Literature, Scholarship, Philosophy, and History: Classical Studies in Memory of Ioannis Taifacos 3515110348, 9783515110341

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Literature, Scholarship, Philosophy, and History Classical Studies in Memory of Ioannis Taifacos

Classical Philology Franz Steiner Verlag

Edited by

GeorGios A. Xenis

Literature, Scholarship, Philosophy, and History Classical Studies in Memory of Ioannis Taifacos Edited by Georgios A. Xenis

Redaktion: Martin Rheinheimer (federführend), Peter Danker-Carstensen, Ole Fischer, Detlev Kraack und Ortwin Pelc.

Literature, Scholarship, Philosophy, and History Classical Studies in Memory of Ioannis Taifacos Edited by Georgios A. Xenis

Franz Steiner Verlag

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek: Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über abrufbar. Dieses Werk einschließlich aller seiner Teile ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung außerhalb der engen Grenzen des Urheberrechtsgesetzes ist unzulässig und strafbar. © Franz Steiner Verlag, Stuttgart 2015 Druck: Hubert & Co. Göttingen Gedruckt auf säurefreiem, alterungsbeständigem Papier. Printed in Germany. ISBN 978-3-515-11034-1 (Print) ISBN 978-3-515-11036-5 (E-Book)

CONTENTS Acknowledgements ................................................................................................. 7 Contributors ............................................................................................................ 9 In memoriam: Ioannis Taifacos (1948–2013) Georgios A. Xenis .......................................................................................... 15 Publications of Ioannis Taifacos ........................................................................... 19 PART I: LITERATURE 1

Early Poetry in Cyprus Martin West †.................................................................................................. 25 2 Polybius between Linguistics and Narratology. An Analysis of 1.6-12 Antonis Tsakmakis ......................................................................................... 37 3 Catiline as Atreus in Cicero’s First Catilinarian Spyridon Tzounakas ....................................................................................... 53 4 Some Observations on Virtutes and Vitia in Caesar’s Bella Carl Joachim Classen † ................................................................................... 73 5 Editing the Fragments of Atellane Comedy Costas Panayotakis ......................................................................................... 87 6 Writing and Dying in Ovid’s Heroides: a Cixousean Reading Charilaos N. Michalopoulos........................................................................... 97 7 Cases of Link between Hypsipyle’s and Medea’s Epistles to Jason (Ov. Epist. 6 and 12) Vaios Vaiopoulos .......................................................................................... 107 8 Two Syrians and Greek Paideia: Lucian and Tatian Heinz-Günther Nesselrath ............................................................................ 129 9 Il carme 1.1.33 di Gregorio di Nazianzo Enrico Magnelli ............................................................................................ 143 10 Utriusque Linguae Doctus et Peritus. Die zweisprachige Dichtung der Spätantike D. Z. Nikitas ................................................................................................. 157 11 Ἐπίδραση τοῦ ἀρχαίου ἑλληνικοῦ ἐπιγράμματος σὲ λογίους-ποιητὲς τοῦ 19ου αἰώνα Μαρία Ὑψηλάντη ..................................................................................... 183 PART II: SCHOLARSHIP 12 La scuola di Valerio Probo Mariarosaria Pugliarello ............................................................................... 213 13 A Note on ‘Prototypon’ and ‘Absolutum’ in Ancient Latin Grammar Javier Uría .................................................................................................... 223

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Contents

14 Un caso discusso di grecismo: alcune considerazioni sulla cosiddetta “para-ipotassi” latina Giovanbattista Galdi..................................................................................... 233 15 Randnotizen zu einem Fund griechischer Buchrollen (Aristoteles, Ἀθηναίων Πολιτεία, Herodas, u. a.) Demokritos Kaltsas ...................................................................................... 247 16 Priscian on the Distinction between Adverbs and Conjunctions Pierre Swiggers – Alfons Wouters................................................................ 265 17 Ἰωάννου Ἀλεξανδρέως Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα: διορθωτικὰ καὶ μεθοδολογικά Γεώργιος Ἀ. Ξενῆς ..................................................................................... 277 18 Difficult Problems in the Transmission and Interrelation of the Greek Etymologica Klaus Alpers ................................................................................................. 293 19 Performing a Speech: the Suitable Introduction in George of Trebizond’s Rhetoricorum Libri V Lucia Calboli Montefusco ............................................................................ 315 PART III: PHILOSOPHY 20 Metaphysics, Politics and Poetic Language in Anaximander Thanassis Samaras........................................................................................ 327 21 Τεταγμένον τε καὶ κεκοσμημένον πρᾶγμα: Die Suche nach Ordnung in Platons Gorgias Ioannis G. Kalogerakos ................................................................................ 341 22 “Cet étant n’a pas été généré en tant qu’étant”? Doukas Kapantaïs......................................................................................... 355 23 La Notion de Luxe (Poluteleia) selon les Cyniques et les Stoïciens: le Personnage d’Héraclès Maria Protopapas-Marneli............................................................................ 401 24 Due note a Clearco e Galeno Tiziano Dorandi ............................................................................................ 411 25 Le Ekphraseis di Zenone, Cleante e Crisippo Aldo Brancacci ............................................................................................. 421 26 Cusanus’ Lehre der docta ignorantia in ihren philosophischen Konsequenzen Nikolaos Avgelis .......................................................................................... 441 PART IV: HISTORY 27 The Roman Temples of Kourion and Amathus in Cyprus: A Chapter on the Arabian Policy of Trajan Theodoros Mavrojannis................................................................................ 457 List of Photographs and Illustrations .................................................................. 503

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This volume has a sad history. It had been planned as a means to mark the sixty-fifth birthday of Professor Ioannis Taifacos on 25 November 2013. However, while it was being assembled, the honorand died of an atrocious form of cancer on 6 July 2013. For all who were there, the massive courage that he showed in struggling with the illness was a lesson not easily to be forgotten, and played beside other factors a crucial role in the decision of the editor to transform the planned Festschrift to a Memorial Volume. I would like to express my gratitude to all the contributors both for their hard work and for continuing to be willing to contribute, even after the nature of the volume changed. Deserving of special mention are Demokritos Kaltsas, Giovanbattista Galdi and Tiziano Dorandi, who provided expert commentary and advice on the German, Italian and French papers respectively. Special thanks are also due to Antonis Tsakmakis, Maria Ypsilanti and all the other colleagues in the Department of Classics and Philosophy, University of Cyprus, for providing encouragement and every kind of support, thus helping to bring the project to fruition. In the editing stage, I am grateful to Katharina Stüdemann and Harald Schmitt at Franz Steiner Verlag for their help and support, and to Charalambos Themistocleous and Rodia Rousou, who kindly helped with computing issues and the correction of proofs respectively. Finally, Franz Steiner is to be thanked for understanding that typically in Festschriften and Memorial Volumes a single theme is difficult to run throughout. University of Cyprus, Nicosia August 2015

Georgios A. Xenis

CONTRIBUTORS Klaus Alpers is Emeritus Professor of Classical Studies at the Institut für Griechische und Lateinische Philologie, University of Hamburg. His main research interests include Ancient and Byzantine Lexicography, Byzantine Orthographical Literature, Byzantine Rhetorical Literature, Greek and Roman Novels, the Greek Physiologus, and the History of Ancient and Byzantine Philology. Nikolaos Avgelis is Emeritus Professor of Philosophy at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki. He has published extensively on Epistemology, Philosophy of Science and Philosophy of Language, and is currently working on the reception of the Platonic tradition in Medieval Philosophy. Aldo Brancacci is Professor of the History of Ancient Philosophy at the University of Rome “Tor Vergata”. His research fields range from the Presocratics to the Later Imperial Age. His most recent books: Antisthène. Le discours propre, Paris 2004; Studi di storiografia filosofica antica, Firenze 2008; Musica e Filosofia da Damone a Filodemo, Firenze 2008. Furthermore, he edited several books, including: Platon, source des Présocratiques, Paris 2002; Democritus: Science, the Arts, and the Care of the Soul, Leiden-New York 2007. Carl Joachim Classen † (1928–2013) was Professor of Classical Studies at Göttingen University (since 1973). He published on a wide range of subjects (including Medieval Latin and Renaissance texts); his main fields of research included the Presocratic philosophers, the sophists of the Classical Age and Socratic and Platonic philosophy, but also the rhetoric of Cicero and later ages. In more recent times he focused on studying ethical norms and values in various ancient authors (e.g. Homer and Isocrates). Tiziano Dorandi is Directeur de recherche at the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (Centre J. Pépin, UP76 CNRS France). His research interests lie in Greek Papyrology, Textual Criticism, Ancient Biography, and Ancient Philosophy. He has recently published a new critical edition of Diogenes Laertius’ Lives of Emi­ nent Philosophers (Cambridge 2013). Giovanbattista Galdi is Professor of Latin Language at the University of Ghent. His main areas of interest lie in the field of late and substandard Latin, epigraphic language and Greek–Latin bilingualism. He is the author of Grammatica delle iscrizioni latine dell’impero (province orientali). Morfosintassi nominale (2004) and Syntaktische Untersuchungen zu den Romana des Jordanes (2013), as well as of numerous articles on Latin Language.

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Contributors

Ioannis G. Kalogerakos is a tenured Assistant Professor of Presocratic Philosophy at the University of Athens. His research interests include Greek Philosophy, Ontology, Philosophy of Nature, Ethics and Political Philosophy. He is the author of Seele und Unsterblichkeit. Untersuchungen zur Vorsokratik bis Empedokles (1996) and the editor of Aristotle and Contemporary Time. Proceedings of the Sixth Pan­ hellenic Congress (Ierissos, 19–21 October 2001) (2004) (in Greek with English summaries). He is currently working on Plato’s Political Philosophy. Demokritos Kaltsas is Associate Professor of Ancient Greek at the University of Cyprus. His main research interests are Ptolemaic Papyrology, the ancient book, Greek Tachygraphy and Hellenistic Greek. He is currently working on a book concerning literary texts written on the verso of documentary papyrus rolls. Doukas Kapantaïs is Main Researcher at the Research Center for Greek Philosophy of the Academy of Athens. His research interests focus on ancient Greek Logic and Metaphysics, and modern Mathematical and Philosophical Logic. He is currently preparing a book on Intuitionistic Logic and Logical Atomism, and one on Gödel’s Second Theorem of Incompleteness. Enrico Magnelli is Associate Professor of Greek Literature at the University of Florence. He has published widely on Greek poetry from the Hellenistic to Byzantine periods, Attic comedy, and Greek metre, including Alexandri Aetoli testimonia et fragmenta (Florence 1999) and Studi su Euforione (Rome 2002). He is currently preparing a monograph on the use of Homer in Greek comedy and satyr-play, a critical edition of Greek epigrams on poets of the Imperial and Late Antique periods (with Gianfranco Agosti), and a commented edition of the fragments of Euphorion. Theodoros Mavrojannis is Associate Professor of Ancient History at the University of Cyprus. He has published on the Hellenistic and Roman periods of the Aegean and the Eastern Mediterranean, with particular emphasis on political history, historical monuments and topography (Delos, Alexandria, Cyprus, Phoenicia, Syria). He is currently working on a project aiming to contextualise the monuments of Cyprus from the Archaic Age to the Late Antiquity. Charilaos N. Michalopoulos is Assistant Professor of Latin at the Department of Greek Philology of the Democritus University of Thrace. His research interests include Augustan Poetry, Gender Studies and Classics, and Modern Reception of Latin Literature. He is the author of Myth, language and gender in the Corpus Priapeorum (Athens, 2014). Lucia Montefusco is Professor of the History of Classical Rhetoric at the University of Bologna. She is a member of the editorial board of the journal Rhetorica, past president of the International Society for the History of Rhetoric, and director of the Centro di Studi Retorici e Grammaticali of the University of Bologna. Her

Contributors

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interests concern the handling of the doctrine of rhetoric in the Greek and Latin handbooks. Heinz-Günther Nesselrath is Professor of Classics (Greek Literature) at the Seminar für Klassische Philologie, Georg-August-Universität Göttingen. His research interests (on which he has published both monographs and articles) include Greek Literature of Roman Imperial and Late Antique Times, Classical Greek Comedy and Greek Historiography (both Classical and Christian). He is currently completing a critical edition of the Emperor Julian’s Hymns and Satires. Dimitrios Z. Nikitas is Professor of Latin Philology at the Aristotelian University of Thessaloniki. His research interests include Classical and Late Latin literature, Byzantine translations of Latin works, Renaissance Latin poetry, Post-byzantine Greek Latinitas. He is currently working on a new Latin-Greek dictionary. Costas Panayotakis is Reader in Classics at the University of Glasgow. He researches on low Roman drama (mime and Atellane comedy) and on Petronius’ novel. He is the author of Decimus Laberius: The Fragments (Cambridge 2010), Theatrum Arbitri: Theatrical Elements in the Satyrica of Petronius (Leiden 1995), and of annotated book-length translations into Modern Greek of one play of Plautus and two of Terence. He is currently working towards an edition (with translation and commentary) of the fragments of all the Atellane playwrights and of the senten­ tiae attributed to the mimographer Publilius. Maria Protopapas-Marneli is Research Director and Acting Director at the Research Centre on Greek Philosophy at the Academy of Athens. Her area of expertise and field of research is Ancient Greek Philosophy, especially Philosophy of the Hellenistic era and Philosophy of the French Renaissance. She is the author, among others, of La Rhétorique des Stoïciens, Paris: L’Harmattan, 2002 and Montaigne. La vigueur du discours. Sur une influence de rhétorique stoïcienne dans les Essais, Laval: Presses de l’Université de Laval, 2009. Mariarosaria Pugliarello teaches at the University of Genova: as a rule she offers ‘Latin Literature’ in the Degree Course of Letters and ‘Latin literature and grammar’ in the Specialisation Degree Course of Classical Letters and Culture. She also teaches in the Research Doctorate Course of Classical Philology. Her main fields of research are Latin grammar, its history and problems, the oratory of Cicero and the indirect tradition of the Ciceronian orations, Phaedrus and classical fables. Thanassis Samaras is Lecturer in Philosophy at the University of Georgia. He is co-editor of the Cambridge Guide to Aristotle’s Politics (forthcoming) and the author of Plato on Democracy (2002). He has also written a Modern Greek Introduction, Translation and Commentary to the Apology and the Crito (2003).

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Contributors

Pierre Swiggers is Professor in the Faculty of Arts at the University of Leuven (KU Leuven) and Research Director of the Flemish Fund for Scientific Research (FWO). His historiographical research focuses on the evolution of grammatical description and grammar teaching, of logic and philosophy of language, and sign theory, in Classical Antiquity as well as in later periods. Antonis Tsakmakis is Associate Professor of Ancient Greek in the Department of Classics and Philosophy, University of Cyprus. His research includes Greek Historiography, Ancient Comedy, the Sophistic Movement, Greek Stylistics and the Didactics of Classical Languages. He is co-editor of Brill’s Companion on Thu­ cydides. His current research projects concern the style in Thucydides’ speeches, representations of leadership in Greek literature, and Aristophanes’ Thesmophori­ azusae. Spyridon Tzounakas is Associate Professor of Latin Literature at the University of Cyprus. His main research interests include: Literature of the Neronian period, Roman Epic, Roman Satire, Cicero’s Orations, Latin Historiography, Roman Elegy, Roman Epistolography, Roman Stoicism, Textual Criticism. He has published many articles in international refereed journals and he is currently working on a book on Persius’ Satires. Javier Uría is Senior Lecturer in Latin Philology at the Universidad de Zaragoza (Spain). He works mainly in the field of ancient Latin grammar, with a focus on grammatical fragments and citation patterns, and he is currently completing his annotated Spanish translation of Charisius’ Ars grammatica. Vaios Vaiopoulos is Associate Professor of Latin Literature at the Ionian University. He is editor of the peer-reviewed journal Mediterranean Chronicle, and member of the editorial board of the journal Mediterranean Studies, indexed in Jstor and Project Muse. His current research interests include Latin literature in the Augustan period, especially Ovid, and also issues related to the translation of Ancient Greek literature into Latin during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Martin West †, OM, MA, DPhil, DLitt, FBA, was a Senior Research Fellow in Classics at All Souls College, Oxford, from 1991 to 2004, when he became an Emeritus Fellow and subsequently Honorary Fellow. He edited various Greek poetic texts and published many books on ancient Greek literature and related subjects. In recent years much of his work had been on early epic, and had nearly finished a new Teubner edition of the Odyssey before his death. Alfons Wouters is Professor Emeritus of the Faculty of Arts of the University of Leuven (KU Leuven). His research focuses on grammatical papyri and on the evolution of grammatical theory and grammar teaching in Classical Antiquity. He is co-founder, with P. Swiggers, of KU Leuven’s “Centre for the Historiography of Linguistics”.

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Georgios A. Xenis is Associate Professor of Ancient Greek at the University of Cyprus. His field of research is mainly Greek Textual Criticism and Ancient Greek Scholarship. He is the editor of the Scholia vetera in Sophoclis Electram (Berlin 2010) and Scholia vetera in Sophoclis Trachinias (Berlin 2010), and has just finished a Teubner edition of John of Alexandria’s Praecepta Tonica. He is now starting on a new critical edition of the scholia vetera to the Oedipus at Colonus . Maria Ypsilanti is Assistant Professor of Ancient Greek Philology at the University of Cyprus. Her research interests focus in the areas of Hellenistic poetry, poetry of Late Antiquity, Epigram, Tragedy and Textual Criticism, in which she has published widely. She is currently working on Nonnus’ paraphrase of St. John’s Gospel as the Principal Investigator of a completed research programme funded by the University of Cyprus and she is preparing an edition with commentary of the epigrams of Crinagoras.

Ioannis Taifacos (1948–2013)

IN MEMORIAM: IOANNIS TAIFACOS (1948–2013) Georgios A. Xenis Ioannis Taifacos was born in Gytheion, in the region of Laconia, in 1948. In 1977 he received his Bachelor of Arts degree in Classics from the University of Athens, where he also attended courses in Law. He then studied at La Sapienza University in Rome for a Master’s degree, which he obtained in 1980. Finally in 1988 he earned his Ph.D. from King’s College, London with a thesis entitled ‘C. Iulius Romanus and his method of compilation in the Aphormai’. He started his academic career as a researcher at the Academy of Athens (1981– 1993). In 1993 he joined the University of Cyprus as Associate Professor of Latin, rising to Professor in 1998. During the last two decades of his life he devoted himself wholeheartedly to the University, serving it through his teaching, research and administration. Academically, he was versatile, his interests relating to areas as diverse as Cicero, Greek and Roman political thought, Latin funeral orations, Latin Grammarians, Petronius, the history of Classical scholarship in Modern Greece with an emphasis on Korais, philosophy, and history. Furthermore, he was a sensitive interpreter of Modern Greek poetry, with a recent publication on Giannis Ritsos, and he wrote some Latin teaching material for secondary schools. A full picture of his varied academic output emerges from the list of publications at the end of this introduction. Administratively, he was a man of great energy and varied activity. At the University of Cyprus, the disciplines of Classics and Philosophy acquired their own administrative unit in 1996. It would not be too much to say that Taifacos was the principal architect of this unit. For eleven whole years, he directed the affairs of the Department, since his widely recognised talent and leadership ability led his colleagues repeatedly to elect him as Chair (1996–8, 1998–2000, 2000–2, 2008–10, 2010–2, and 2012 until his death). Notably, he was the head of the Department during the very crucial period of the first six years of its life. He also occupied many other positions of influence within the University. He was twice the Dean of the Faculty of Letters (2002–5, 2005–8) and many times member of the Senate of the University. The administrative contribution he made to the Department was two-fold. He played a crucial part in the selection of the academic staff, and his role was instrumental in shaping the three programmes of study offered by the Department: two undergraduate programmes, one in Classics and one in Philosophy, and one graduate programme in Classics. The second sphere of his activity revolved around the formation of networks. International collaborations are central to the thriving life of any contemporary aca-

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demic institution, since they are a source of improvement and inspiration for both the academic staff and the student body. This is all the more true of a newly-founded department located in the south-easternmost extremity of Europe. Thus Taifacos took the initiative to create links with well-established institutions across the world, and invited many eminent overseas academics, either through the scheme of visiting professorships or through the many outstandingly successful international conferences that he organised. Furthermore, the position and the status of the Department within the international academic community was greatly enhanced, when, following his recommendation, the Faculty of Letters conferred honorary doctorates upon four distinguished classicists: Nicolaos Conomis (1998), Gregory Sifakis (2006), Martin L. West (2007) and Νigel G. Wilson (2010). Taifacos not only pioneered the establishment of Classical Studies in Cyprus as the academic discipline it now is and the contextualisation of the field in the international community. He was also deeply involved in making Classics available to the general public. Thus he made frequent public appearances, wrote numerous articles in local newspapers and had many discussions and interviews on radio and television programmes. He frequently also addressed gatherings of secondary school teachers and pupils. What motivated him to pursue this wide-ranging goal was his desire to raise consciousness in the wider world of the significance of Classics and the humanistic tradition for contemporary life. Taifacos clearly had a Gadamerian notion of ‘the Classical’, and the following passage of Gadamer’s Truth and Method was one of his most favourite pieces on the subject: The ‘classical’ is fundamentally something quite different from a descriptive concept used by an objectivizing historical consciousness. It is a historical reality to which historical consciousness belongs and is subordinate. The ‘classical’ is something raised above the vicissitudes of changing times and changing tastes. It is immediately accessible, not through that shock of recognition, as it were, that sometimes characterizes a work of art for its contemporaries and in which the beholder experiences a fulfilled apprehension of meaning that surpasses all conscious expectations. Rather, when we call something classical, there is a consciousness of something enduring, of significance that cannot be lost and that is independent of all the circumstances of time – a kind of timeless present that is contemporaneous with every other present.1

Another factor which played a major role in his decision to appeal to the wider community was his view that public statements and acts by Classicists can help to bring about a shift in the dominant discourse that currently assigns an exclusive, narrowly conceived economic role to education. For without this shift, Taifacos thought, the studia humanitatis ac litterarum will continue to lose disciplinary space on university and college campuses. Taifacos held the firm belief that the marginalisation of our field in recent years cannot be addressed simply through a revision of the relevant university curricula, for a major part of the problem lies outside the academy. The reversal of the decline inevitably requires a broadening of our collective imagination regarding what education ought to be about. In other words, Classics should be placed back on the cultural map of society. Toward this end, all classicists, Taifacos held, have the moral obligation to devote time and 1

H.-G. Gadamer, Truth and Method, 2nd ed., translated by J. Weinsheimer and D. G. Marshall, London 1989, 287–8.

In memoriam: Ioannis Taifacos (1948–2013)

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contribute energy: ‘Let us stop merely mourning the decline of Classics; let us deal with it!’, was one of his usual exhortations to his colleagues. Recognition came in many forms. It is enough to mention two examples: he was presented with two awards by the Academy of Athens for his books Σύγκρισις πολιτειῶν στὸ De re publica τοῦ Κικέρωνος. Ἡ ρωμαϊκὴ ἐφαρμογὴ μιᾶς ἑλ­ ληνικῆς μεθόδου (Ἀθήνα 1996), and Φιλοσοφία: Κλέαρχος, Περσαῖος, Δη­ μῶναξ καὶ ἄλλοι Κύπριοι Φιλόσοφοι (Λευκωσία 2008). Moreover, he was appointed Commendatore Ordine al Merito della Repubblica Italiana for the role he had played in the strengthening of Greco-Italian cultural links. Of the traits of Taifacos’ personality, his generosity of spirit and hospitality will be the ones most likely to be remembered. These in combination with a convivial style and a sense of humour helped him to build an astonishing number of friendships with colleagues across Europe and the United States. Besides these qualities, one should not forget his fine sense of the beautiful. Taifacos was a figure of unusual personal elegance, and, if I may add a personal reminiscence, his style of dress in particular seemed to me to be in accord with the advice of [Isocrates] To Demonicus 27: εἶναι βούλου τὰ περὶ τὴν ἐσθῆτα φιλόκαλος, ἀλλὰ μὴ καλλωπιστής. ἔστι δὲ φιλοκάλου μὲν τὸ μεγαλοπρεπές, καλλωπιστοῦ δὲ τὸ περίεργον. However, his taste for style and his life of sophistication did nothing to diminish his hardiness, which he used to associate with his origin in the Mani. Equipped with this quality and a strong belief in the notion of divine providence, he had the courage to continue his academic work in hospital up to the last minute of his life, and face death with extraordinary fearlessness. Taifacos was taken from us not in the ripeness of his years, but at an age when, although he accomplished much, he can hardly be said to have exhausted his contribution to Classical Studies and the academic community. Our aim in this volume is to honour his memory in the fashion he himself most appreciated, that is, first, by creating a collection of essays covering both Greek and Latin texts, since Taifacos was a lifelong and strong proponent of the unity of classical civilisation, and, second, by concentrating on the research areas most closely related to his own interests: given his breadth of expertise, the span of the twenty-seven essays in this volume is appropriately wide, covering literature, scholarship, philosophy, and history. In publishing such a volume we cherish the hope that εἴ τις αἴσθησις τοῖς ἀπελθοῦσι, ΙΩΑΝΝΗΣ ΤΑΪΦΑΚΟΣ συνησθήσεται καὶ κοινωνήσει τῆς ἑορτῆς!

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Γαΐου Ἰουλίου Καίσαρος, Ἀπομνημονεύματα Περὶ τοῦ Γαλατικοῦ πολέμου: C. Iuli Caesaris, De Bello Gallico. Εἰσαγωγή, κείμενον, μετάφρασις, σχόλια, εὑρετήριον ὀνομάτων, λεξικόν, Ἀθῆναι, Ἐκδόσεις Κασσάνδρα Μ. Γρηγόρη, 1973 Οἱ Ρωμαῖοι καὶ τὸ Κοινὸν τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων (IG V 1, 1146), in: Ἑλληνικὸς Λόγος 1, 1973, 345–351 Τὸ σπαρτιατικὸν πολίτευμα εἰς τὴν ρωμαϊκὴν πολιτικὴν σκέψιν, in: Ἑλληνικὸς Λόγος 1, 1973, 428–440 Ρωμαϊκὴ πολιτικὴ ἐν Λακωνίᾳ. Ἔρευναι ἐπὶ τῶν πολιτικῶν σχέσεων Ρώμης καὶ Σπάρτης, Ἀθῆναι 1974 M. T. Ciceronis, Laelius de amicitia. M.T Κικέρωνος, Λαίλιος περὶ φιλίας. Εἰσαγωγή, κείμενον, μετάφρασις, Ἀθῆναι, Ἐκδότης Σπ. Τούντας, 1974 Ἀνέκδοτος λακωνικὴ ἐπιγραφὴ τῶν ρωμαϊκῶν χρόνων, in: Λακωνικαὶ Σπουδαί 2, 1975, 121–126 Βιβλιογραφία τῆς λακωνικῆς ἀρχαιογνωσίας. Συμβολὴ πρώτη, in: Λακωνικαὶ Σπουδαί 2, 1975, 418–87 Δικαιάρχου Τριπολιτικός, in: Πελοποννησιακά 11, 1975, 124–129 = Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 139–145 Ἡ Κύπρος εἰς τὰς Ὠδὰς τοῦ Ὁρατίου, in: Παρνασσός 17, 1975, 398–404 Ἡ τοπογραφία τῆς Νοτίου Κοίλης Λακεδαίμονος κατὰ τὴν περιήγησιν τοῦ Παυσανίου, in: Ἀργοναύτης 1, 1975, 53–66 Παφλαγονία (in collaboration with the editorial board), in: Ἱστορία τοῦ Ἑλληνικοῦ Ἔθνους, vol. VI, Ἀθήνα: Ἐκδοτικὴ Ἀθηνῶν 1976, 240–241 Καππαδοκία (in collaboration with the editorial board) in: Ἱστορία τοῦ Ἑλληνικοῦ Ἔθνους, vol. VI, Ἀθήνα: Ἐκδοτικὴ Ἀθηνῶν 1976, 245–247 Κιλικία (in collaboration with the editorial board), in: Ἱστορία τοῦ Ἑλληνικοῦ Ἔθνους, vol. VI, Ἀθήνα: Ἐκδοτικὴ Ἀθηνῶν 1976, 261–267 Ὁ Ρωμύλος ζηλωτὴς τοῦ Λυκούργου, in: Παρνασσός 18, 1976, 552–559 = Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 125–133 Θεόπομπος καὶ Παυσανίας περὶ τῶν Μεσσαπέων καὶ ἡ πιθανὴ αὐτῶν θέσις, in: Ἀργοναύτης 2, 1976, 49–57 Ἀρχαία Ἀρκαδικὴ ἱστοριογραφία, in: Πρακτικὰ τοῦ Α΄ Συνεδρίου Ἀρκαδικῶν Σπουδῶν, Ἀθῆναι 1977 (Πελοποννησιακά, Appendix. vol. 12, 1976–1977, 273–282 Λακωνικαὶ ἐπιγραφαὶ ἀνέκδοτοι, in: Πελοποννησιακά 12, 1976–7, 214– 223 (= Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum XXVI, 1976–1977, nos. 455– 456, 460, 462)

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Κάτωνος Origines fr. 51P2 καὶ αἱ λακωνικαὶ ἐπιδράσεις ἐπὶ τὰ παλαιὰ σαβινικὰ ἐπιτηδεύματα, in: Πρακτικὰ τοῦ Α΄ Διεθνοῦς Συνεδρίου Πελοποννησιακῶν Σπουδῶν ΙΙ. Ἀθῆναι 1976–1978 (Πελοποννησιακά, Appendix 6.2), 289–299 = Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 17–27 Κάτων καὶ Πολύβιος, in: Πελοποννησιακά 13, 1978–1979, 53–71 = Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 29–49 Una laudatio funebris di M. Catone Nepote. Roma, L’Erma di Bretschneider, 1979 Il De re publica di Cicerone e il modello dicearcheo della costituzione mista, in: Πλάτων 31, 1979, 128–134 = Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 71–80 Ἀργεῖοι μῦθοι εἰς τὴν ρωμαϊκὴν τραγωδίαν, in: Πρακτικὰ Α΄ Συνεδρίου Ἀργολικῶν Σπουδῶν, Ἀθῆναι 1979, 245–252 Cicerone e Polibio: sulle fonti del De re publica, in: Sileno 5–6, 1979–1980, 11–17 = Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 51–58 Cicero and the Sicilian Historiography: Timaeus, in: Ciceroniana n.s. 4, 1980, 177–189 Κικέρωνος κριτικὴ τῆς Λακωνικῆς πολιτείας εἰς τὸ De officiis, in: Λακωνικαὶ Σπουδαί 5, 1980, 31–38 = Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 81–90 Cicero’s Republic and the Aristotelian Politics on the Spartan Constitution, in: Πλάτων 32, 1980–1, 250–7 = Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 59–69 Tacitus’ Criticism of the Mixed Constitution, in: Ἀρχαιογνωσία 2, 1981, 273– 276 = Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 135–138 Review of Ἀνδρέα Παναγόπουλου, Πλάτων καὶ Κρήτη, Ἀθήνα 1981, in: Ἀρχαιογνωσία 2, 1981, 299–301 Tito Livio e una fonte antiromana di Polibio, in: Latomus 41, 1982, 817–832 (= Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 91–109 Lintei libri: Char. 376.26.Ba., in: Athenaeum n.s. 60, 1982, 253–256 The Lexicographical Work of Caesellius Vindex and its Arrangement, in: Hermes 111, 1983, 501–505 On a Citation of Julius Romanus in Charisius, in: Classical Philology 78, 1983, 148–149 Laudatio Turiae II 0, in: Παρνασσός 25, 1983, 770–775 Ἕνας τύραννος στὸν Τίτο Λίβιο, in: Α΄ Πανελλήνιο Συμπόσιο Λατινικῶν Σπουδῶν. Θέμα: Λογοτεχνία καὶ πολιτικὴ στὰ χρόνια τοῦ Αὐγούστου. 5–6.11.1982. Γιάννενα 1984, 125–136 = Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου, 111–124 A Note on Tibullus’ Indirect Tradition, in: Philologus 129, 1985, 155–159 Citazioni poetiche nelle Historiae di Sallustio?, in: Philologus 131, 1987, 265– 269 Ἀνθολόγιο Λατινικῶν Κειμένων. Γιὰ τὴν Γ΄ Κλασικοῦ Λυκείου. Ἀθήνα, Ὀργανισμὸς Ἐκδόσεως Διδακτικῶν Βιβλίων, 1992 Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου. Μελετήματα στὴ διαλεκτικὴ τῆς ἑλληνορωμαϊκῆς πολιτικῆς σκέψης. Ἀθήνα 1995 (a collection of reprinted articles) L. Annaeus Seneca, De otio. Λευκίου Ἀνναίου Σενέκα, Περὶ ἀπραγμοσύνης. Εἰσαγωγὴ Κωνσταντίνου Δεσποτόπουλου. Λευκωσία 1996

Publications of Ioannis Taifacos

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Σύγκρισις πολιτειῶν στὸ De re publica τοῦ Κικέρωνος. Ἡ ρωμαϊκὴ ἐφαρμογὴ μιᾶς ἑλληνικῆς μεθόδου. Ἀθήνα 1996 Πετρώνιος καὶ Κοραῆς. Κριτικὰ καὶ ἑρμηνευτικὰ σχόλια στὸ κείμενο τῶν Σατυρικῶν. Ἀθήνα 1997 The World of Herodotus (co–edited with V. Karageorghis): Proceedings of an International Conference held at the Foundation Anastasios G. Leventis, Nicosia, September 18–21, 2003 and organised by the Foundation Anastasios G. Leventis and the Faculty of Letters, University of Cyprus. Nicosia: Foundation A. G. Leventis 2004 Approaches to Herodotus in Hellenistic Historiography, in: The World of Herodotus, 365–73 The Origins of European Scholarship (edited volume): The Cyprus Millennium International Conference, Nicosia 2000, Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2005 The Notes to the first Grammarians’ corpus discovered: Helias van Putschen, 1605. An interim Report, in: The Origins of European Scholarship, 197–204 Φιλοσοφία: Κλέαρχος, Περσαῖος, Δημῶναξ καὶ ἄλλοι Κύπριοι Φιλόσοφοι, Λευκωσία: Ἵδρυμα Ἀναστ. Λεβέντης 2008 (Ἀρχαία Κυπριακή Γραμματεία, 6) Οἱ νεκροὶ πιὰ δὲν μᾶς πονοῦν. Μαρτυρίες γιὰ τὴ ζωὴ καὶ τὴν ποίηση τοῦ Γιάννη Ρίτσου, Ἀθήνα: Gutenberg–Γιώργος & Κώστας Δαρδανός 2011 SELECTION OF INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCES ORGANISED BY IOANNIS TAIFACOS

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Coray’s Classical Scholarship, Nicosia, 25–26 September 1998 Humankind and the Cosmos (co-organised with E. Moutsopoulos), Nicosia, 11–12 June 1999 The Origins of European Scholarship, Nicosia, 6–8 April 2000 Hellenistic Philosophy: Clearchus of Soloi, Nicosia, 2–3 December 2001 European Scholarship. History, Methodology, and Beyond, Nicosia, 14–17 March 2002 The World of Herodotus (co-organised with V. Karageorghis). Nicosia, September 2003 Hellenistic Erudition: Clearchus of Soloi II, Nicosia, 15–16 December 2003 Hellenism in Cyprus: from Stasinos to Demonax, Nicosia, 22–25 September 2005 Classical Scholarship III. Ten Papers on Greek and Latin (co-organised with G. Xenis and S. Tzounakas), Limassol, 23–24 November 2007 Il Mediterraneo dopo il 1453: identità a confronto (co-organised with A. Feniello), Nicosia, 12–14 June 2008 Φιλοσοφία, Λογοτεχνία, Φιλολογία – Philosophy, Literature, Scholarship. Διεθνὲς Συνέδριο (Νοέμβριος 2010).18–20 Νοεμβρίου 2010

PART I: LITERATURE

1 EARLY POETRY IN CYPRUS Martin West † Abstract In the archaic period epic and hymnic poetry in the Ionian tradition was current in Cyprus. The poet of the Iliad may perhaps have visited the island, though the claim that Homer was a Cypriot, supported by an oracle in the name of the seer Euklos, is a late invention. The sixth and tenth Homeric Hymns, both to Aphrodite, were probably composed in Cyprus, as was the epic Cypria ascribed to Stasinos. The content of this epic is discussed, and it is suggested that it may have been adapted, for the sake of Cyclic continuity, from a poem with greater organic unity that covered only the beginning of the Trojan War and had a somewhat romantic and anti-heroic character, possibly reflecting a Cypriot outlook. Cyprus is an island. It is περίρρυτος, surrounded by water – a lot of water. It is separated from the nearest land by over 60 km of sea. That is too far to swim. Consequently Cyprus had no human population until people living by the shores of the eastern Mediterranean were able to build seagoing vessels. Modern humans spread out of Africa into the Middle East about eighty thousand years ago, and westwards through Europe between forty and fifty thousand years ago. But serious seafaring in this part of the world probably developed only after the last Ice Age, and the earliest evidence for human habitation in Cyprus goes back only some twelve thousand years. For myriads of years before that, as hunter-gatherers roamed through the Levant and Anatolia, hunting and gathering, speaking primitive languages, perhaps singing primitive songs and chanting primitive poems, this happy island slept unknown in the midst of the waters, a nature reserve, alive with the singing of birds and the joyous trumpetings of the dwarf elephant, but innocent of human verse. Then one day in the eleventh millennium before our era there came the first boat, most likely from Anatolia or Syria. Then a few more. One or two small settlements were established. Human speech was heard in the land. We fast-forward to the mid second millennium, the beginning of the Late Bronze Age. Now there are Greeks in Greece, and they are starting to dominate the Aegean and extend their military and political power across the islands, into Crete and onto the western and southern shores of Asia Minor. Cyprus is by this time a country well known to the great powers of the Near East under the name of Alasiya. Its population must have been quite mixed, its native stocks augmented and adulterated by Egyptian, west Semitic, Hurrian, Hittite, and Luwian elements. We cannot say how early the first Greek-speakers found their way here. The first one of whom there is any record was a warlord with the heroic name of Atarsias, the Intrepid,

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who was active around 1400.1 He commanded a force of more than a hundred chariots, perhaps a thousand foot soldiers, and a fleet. He harried the lands of Madduwatta, a vassal of the Hittite king in southwest Asia Minor, and later joined him in raiding Cyprus. Perhaps he had a poet in his entourage to entertain and inspire him with tales of older warriors’ exploits and to celebrate his own. There was no major Greek settlement in Cyprus at this period. That came towards the end of the Mycenaean age, in the twelfth and eleventh centuries, when there was much movement from the Aegean into the eastern Mediterranean. Ever since then there has been a substantial Greek presence on the island. The Homeric tradition almost certainly goes well back into the Mycenaean period. Among the thousands of Achaean migrants who arrived in Cyprus from the Peloponnese and the Aegean islands after 1200 there must have been a certain number of bards who brought with them that tradition of hexameter epic and a body of heroic legend. Others went to the Ionian and Aeolian settlements of Asia Minor. The mainland palaces which had been their most profitable haunts, the seats of their wealthiest patrons, had fallen. The stream of tradition no longer flowed freely in the old heartland. It ran off into side-channels of varying purity and capacity. It would be nice to suppose that a branch of Mycenaean poetry lived on in Cyprus through the Dark Age, its archaic character preserved more faithfully here than anywhere else, just as the Cypriot dialect maintained archaic features of the old Achaean dialect and the Cypriot syllabic script perpetuated a type of writing that disappeared elsewhere after the Bronze Age. But there is no evidence to support this. Certainly in the archaic period there does seem to be a living tradition of epic and hymnic poetry in Cyprus. But so far as we can see, it is nothing more than a local representative of the Ionian tradition in which the Homeric poems stand. There is no sign of a Cypriot version of the epic language or a special Cypriot heritage of ancient myth. Cyprus appears as a very marginal constituency of the heroic world. It looks as if the direct line of tradition had petered out and been replaced in the eighth century by the Ionian epic which was enjoying a new and wonderful flowering and which was becoming known and admired all over Greece. In the Iliad and Odyssey Cyprus is mentioned only twice as a scene of heroic action. It is named together with Phoenicia, Egypt, and Libya in connection with Menelaus’ travels in the eastern Mediterranean, but without reference to any incident there (Od. 4.83–85). The mention in the Iliad (11.19–28) is more interesting. Agamemnon’s ἀριστεία is, as usual, prepared for by an arming scene. He puts on an elaborately decorated cuirass that he had as a gift from Kinyras of Cyprus. The great news of the Achaeans’ expedition against Troy had reached Cyprus, and as a small gesture of support Kinyras had sent Agamemnon this handsome and useful piece of equipment. Kinyras appears as the king of Mycene’s most distant friend, lying outside the warrior community. There are no Cypriots fighting at Troy; the Catalogue of Ships goes no further east than Rhodes. In the Hesiodic catalogue of Helen’s suitors, who 1

G. M. Beckman, T. R. Bryce and E. H. Cline, The Ahhiyawa Texts, Atlanta 2011, 69–100; M. L. West, Atreus and Attarissiyas, in: Glotta 77, 2001, 262–266.

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formed the basis of the grand alliance (frr. 196–204), there is no representative from Cyprus. Kinyras’ isolated appearance as a friend of Agamemnon is an anomaly, like the untraditional piece of armour. My guess is that it is the poet of the Iliad who has established a contact with Cyprus and felt the impulse to give the island an honourable mention in his poem. Perhaps he had made a trip here to perform for the king of Salamis, or at the great festival of Aphrodite in Old Paphos.2 The one mythical name that he had at his disposal was Kinyras. But Kinyras was no typical Mycenaean warlord, as we can see from the other traditions about him. He appears under five aspects: as a king, a priest, a dandy, a musician, and a millionaire. Tyrtaeus names him with Midas as a byword for wealth; God loaded him with it, says Pindar, ὅσπερ καὶ Κινύραν ἔβρισε πλούτωι ποντίᾱι ἔν ποτε Κύπρωι. Alcman praises the lovely hair of the Spartan chorus girls by saying that the glistening charm of Kinyras resides on it: καλλίκ]ομος νοτία Κινύρα χ[άρ]ις [ ˉ ἐπὶ π]αρθενικᾶν χαίταισιν ἵσδει. Anacreon apparently spoke of him as having lived for 160 years—ten years more than the famously long-lived king of Tartessos. For Pindar, besides being an accumulator of riches, he is celebrated in Cypriot legend as Aphrodite’s favourite priest, who was also loved by Apollo, Κινύραν … τὸν ὁ χρυσοχαῖτα προφρόνως ἐφίλησ᾽ ᾽Απόλλων, ἱερέα κτίλον ᾽Αφροδίτας.3 The scholiast explains the last phrase as meaning that he grew up and lived in Aphrodite’s company. It is said that he founded the temple at Paphos, and that he and his descendants were buried in the precinct.4 These were the Kinyradai or Kinyridai, a line of hereditary priests who evidently enjoyed a high status in the land. There are other stories that bring Kinyras into marginal connection with the Trojan War. In the Iliad passage he is presented favourably, even if his contribution to the war effort is a mere token. But in other traditions his behaviour is discreditable. According to an account which has been thought by some to go back to the epic Cypria, he was visited by Menelaos, Odysseus, and Agamemnon’s herald Talthybios and urged to join in the forthcoming expedition against Troy. He gave them the cuirass for Agamemnon and undertook on oath to send a fleet of fifty ships. But in the event he sent just one ship; the other forty-nine he fashioned out of clay, manned with clay crews, and launched out to sea, where presumably they dissolved.5 The Homer scholia give another version according to which Kinyras, king of Cyprus and very wealthy, gave hospitality to passing Greeks (unidentified) and promised to send provisioning for the army at Troy. He neglected to do so, and Agamemnon laid a curse on him. He met his end at the hands of Apollo, with whom he competed in music. His fifty daughters leapt into the sea and turned into kingfishers.6 These are strange tales. What lies behind the fleet of fifty clay ships and crews? Is there some connection between them and the fifty girls who jump into the sea? If 2 3 4 5 6

Cf. M. L. West, The Making of the Iliad, Oxford 2011, 23–24. Tyrt. 12.6; Pi. N. 8.18; Alcm. 3.71 Davies; Anacr. 361 Page; Pi. P. 2.16–17. Tac. Hist. 2.3, cf. Clem. Protr. 2.13.4; Ptolemy of Megalopolis, FGrH 161 F 1. Apollod. Epit. 3.9; sch. T Il. 11.20b. The story is alluded to in Alcid. Od. 20–21, where the number of ships is a hundred. Against the ascription to the Cypria see M. L. West, The Epic Cycle, Oxford 2013, 103. Sch. bT Il. 11.20a.

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an answer is to be found, I suspect that it lies in some ancient Cypriot ritual custom or sport in which clay model ships were floated on the sea. Did girls dive in and swim after them? The stories about Kinyras’ promise to Agamemnon would have been invented to supply the aetiology of the practice. There are in fact in the Archaeological Museum in Nicosia a number of small clay models of ships, some with crews. Perhaps Cypriot archaeologists will one of these days discover a larger hoard of them, lending further colour to my conjecture. In all these accounts in which Kinyras is brought into association with the Trojan War it is implied that he was a king with ships and men at his disposal. The Homeric scholiast actually describes him as king of Cyprus. In other authors of the Roman period he is called a king of Byblos or of Assyria (that is, Syria).7 Should we regard him then as some sort of priest-king? But his descendants, the Kinyradai, are only called priests, never kings. And I think it most probable that Kinyras never existed as a historical person. He was nothing but the fictitious eponym of the Kinyradai, the priests of Aphrodite at Paphos. Their characteristics were projected back onto their mythical ancestor: their elegance, their musicianship, the great wealth of the shrine. But why were the Kinyradai so called, if they were not the descendants of a Kinyras? Music is the clue. Kinyras was not remembered as a poet; we do not hear of any verse attributed to him. If he vied in music with Apollo, it was with the lyre. In the Septuagint and Josephus the word κινύρα is used to render the Hebrew kin­ nôr, ‘lyre’. This was the instrument that King David played, often mistranslated as ‘harp’, but in fact a lyre. The lyre originated in the Near East; the earliest evidence for it is from Megiddo and dates from about 3100 bce. A variant of the Hebrew word, knr (*kinur), was current at Ugarit in the late Bronze Age. It would not be at all surprising if it was also in use in nearby Cyprus, especially in the cult of the Levantine goddess Aphrodite, whose name, as I have shown elsewhere, has a recognizably Semitic structure.8 Perhaps the round-based cithara shown being played by a standing figure on a bowl from Palaipaphos of the first half of the eleventh century was locally called a kinur. The professional musicians who played the instrument might well be called in Semitic idiom ‘the sons of the lyre’, in Hebrew bnê kinnôr, which could be transposed into Greek as Κινυράδαι. This, I maintain, is the origin of the Kinyradai and so of Kinyras. If Kinyras does not feature as a source of verses, there is another legendary pre-Homeric Cypriot who does. This is the seer Euklos. Oracles circulated under his name, as they did under the names of other mythical prophets such as Mousaios, Bakis, and the Sibyl. Attestation is very sparse and limited to post-classical sources. A scholiast on Plato records a rare linguistic usage that occurred in an oracle of Euklos. For the rest, he is cited only in Book 10 of Pausanias, an author with a taste for out-of-the-way hexameter verse. Pausanias claims to have read the oracles of

7 8

Str. 16.2.18, cf. Luc. Syr.D. 9; Hyg. Fab. 58, 242, 270. M. L. West, The Name of Aphrodite, in: Glotta 76, 2000, 134–138 = Hellenica iii, Oxford 2013, 341–346.

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Euklos as well as those of Mousaios and Bakis. A few pages later he mentions that Euklos, who was earlier than Bakis, foretold the Persian expedition against Greece.9 His third reference is more informative. Speaking of the rival claims regarding Homer’s origins, he writes: Κύπριοι δέ, οἰκειοῦνται γὰρ δὴ καὶ οὗτοι ῞Ομηρον, Θεμιστώ τε αὐτῶι μητέρα εἶναι τῶν τινα ἐπιχωρίων γυναικῶν λέγουσι, καὶ ὑπὸ Εὔκλου προθεσπισθῆναι τὰ ἐς τὴν γένεσιν τὴν ῾Ομήρου φασὶν ἐν τοῖσδε· καὶ τότ᾽ (καί ποτ᾽?) ἐν εἰναλίηι Κύπρωι μέγας ἔσσετ᾽ ἀοιδός, ὅν τε Θεμιστὼ τέξει ἐπ᾽ ἀγροῦ δῖα γυναικῶν νόσφι πολυκτεάνοιο πολύκλειτον Σαλαμῖνος. Κύπρον δὲ προλιπὼν διερός (l. -οῖς) θ᾽ ὑπὸ κύμασιν ἀρθείς, ῾Ελλάδος εὐρυχόρου μοῦνος κλέα πρῶτος ἀείσας ἔσσεται ἀθάνατος καὶ ἀγήραος ἤματα πάντα. But the Cypriots (for they too claim Homer as their own) say that his mother was Themisto, one of their local women; and that Homer’s birth was prophesied by Euklos as follows: And then [or: one day] in sea-girt Cyprus there will be a great singer whom the lady Themisto will bear in the countryside, away from wealthy Salamis, a far-famed son. But leaving Cyprus, borne up on the watery waves, the first and only singer of broad Hellas’ glorious deeds, he will be immortal and ageless for evermore.10

When Pausanias refers to ‘the Cypriots’ as his source, he is probably drawing directly or indirectly on a particular Cypriot writer, Kallikles, who is cited in the Lives of Homer for the names of the poet’s parents (Dmasagoras and Themiste) and for his origin in Cyprian Salamis. Kallikles is likely to be also the source for the story that Homer was so called because he was given as a hostage by the Cypriots to the Persians.11 Perhaps Pausanias’ quotation of Euklos’ verses also came from Kallikles, although Pausanias states that he has personally read Euklos’ oracles. Kallikles’ date is uncertain, but the Salaminian claim to Homer appears to go back before 200 bce,12 and if he was its author, that puts him back into the third century. The oracles of Euklos will not have been composed any earlier than that, and perhaps a good deal later, as we can document their currency only in the Roman period. Some of them, curiously, seem to have been taken over or interpolated into a Christian book of Sibylline oracles which Johannes Lydus encountered in Cyprus in the fifth century and in which he found a prophecy of the coming of Homer.13 From the mythical figures of Kinyras and Euklos I pass on to poetry that really was produced in Cyprus at a relatively early date. The greater part of it is of course lost, like the greater part of the poetry composed at Athens and everywhere else. But we do have two short poems from the seventh or sixth century that were very prob9 10 11 12 13

Sch. Pl. Hp.Ma. 295a (p. 177 Greene): ἆ in the sense of νῦν; Paus. 10.12.11, 10.14.6. Paus. 10.24.3. Lives of Homer 1.3 and 7.2 West; FGrH 758 F 13; cf. F. Jacoby, RE X 1635. If AP 7.5, where the claim is denied, is rightly ascribed to Alcaeus of Messene (Epigr. 22 Gow– Page). Cf. U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Die Ilias und Homer, Berlin 1916, 428 n. 2. Lyd. Mens. 4.47 (p. 104.1 Wünsch).

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ably designed for performance at festivals in Cyprus and therefore, more likely than not, by a Cypriot poet or poets. I am referring to the sixth and tenth Homeric Hymns, the two shorter of the three hymns to Aphrodite in the collection. In the long Hymn to Aphrodite (no. 5), as also in the Odyssey and in Sappho, Paphos is acknowledged as the goddess’s home base, where she has her temple and her scented altar, and at the end of the hymn she is saluted as queen of Cyprus. But in view of the famous prophecy about the descendants of Aeneas ruling over the Trojans in perpetuity, it looks as if this poem was composed for performance in the Troad in the presence of nobles who claimed to be of that line.14 In Hymn 6, on the other hand, the focus is on Cyprus. It begins Αἰδοίην χρυσοστέφανον καλὴν ᾽Αφροδίτην ἄισομαι, ἣ πάσης Κύπρου κρήδεμνα λέλογχεν,

‘Of the reverend, gold-crowned, lovely Aphrodite I will sing, who has been assigned the citadels of all Cyprus.’ It goes on to tell how the West Wind originally brought her there, hidden in foam, and how the Horai received her and adorned her and took her to join the gods. The poet concludes with a prayer to her for ‘victory in this contest’: χαῖρ᾽ ἑλικοβλέφαρε, γλυκυμείλιχε, δὸς δ᾽ ἐν ἀγῶνι νίκην τῶιδε φέρεσθαι, ἐμὴν δ᾽ ἔντυνον ἀοιδήν.

The contest must be a contest for rhapsodes, probably in the context of a major festival with contests of several kinds. A plausible setting would be the panegyris at Old Paphos to which Strabo refers.15 The emphasis on the myth of Aphrodite’s birth from the sea is a pointer to the Paphos region. Hymn 10 is only six lines long and contains no myth. Yet in those six lines there are three references to Cyprus: ‘Of Cyprus-born Cytherea I will sing … I salute you, goddess, queen of well-cultivated Salamis, and of all Cyprus’. Salamis, perhaps, was where this little poem served as the preface to a longer recitation of epic. Salamis: home of kings whose way of life from about 750 bce, and more particularly their way of death, have struck archaeologists as remarkably Homeric, with their cremations preceded by sacrifices of chariot-horses and other animals and even human victims, offerings of jars of oil, placing of the ashes in an urn wrapped in cloth, and raising of a tumulus. These kings must have known and appreciated epic poetry of the Homeric variety, the Ionian (Euboean?) epic that was taking Greece by storm at this period. It is not surprising if a local Cypriot school of epic poets grew up under their patronage and perhaps that of other royal and aristocratic families in other centres around the island. The primary evidence for the existence of such a school is the currency in Greece, not later than the fifth century, of an epic poem known generally as the Cyprian epic, τὰ Κύπρια ἔπη or just τὰ Κύπρια. It bore this title not, as has sometimes been suggested, because of the part played in it by Kypris-Aphrodite, but 14 15

h.Ven. 196–197. Cf. Il. 20.306–308; West, The Making of the Iliad, 26; The Epic Cycle, 220, 226, 232. Str. 14.6.3.

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because it was known or believed to come from Cyprus. It was associated with a Cypriot poet, usually identified as Stasinos, which is a genuinely Cypriot name; an alternative nomination is Hegesias or Hegesinos, said to be from Salamis. There are other examples of early epics being known by a title that referred not to their subject matter but to their area of origin. There was the Phokais, attributed to Thestorides of Phocaea, and the Ναυπάκτια ἔπη, attributed to Karkinos of Naupactus. In my view the Iliad itself was so named not because its action takes place during the Trojan War – that was true of a great deal of epic poetry of the time, and the title should serve to distinguish this poem from others – but because it was perceived as coming from the Ilion region. Its poet clearly shows personal knowledge of the area, and like the Hymn to Aphrodite it contains a prophecy about the descendants of Aeneas ruling over the Trojans in the future: this is most easily understood on the assumption that the poet enjoyed the patronage of a noble family in the Troad itself. Many of the early epics were cited by title rather than by author, and some of them are completely anonymous. There are others again, like the Cypria, for which two or three alternative authors are named. The reason for this vagueness about the poets’ identities is the traditional nature of epic poetry. The poems were produced by men known as ἀοιδοί, singers – note that the term refers to performance, not creation. The singers portrayed in the Homeric epics are not represented as creating poems but as reproducing songs that they know about the deeds of men and gods, memory of which has been preserved through the ages by the Muses. There was not, to begin with, the same concept of an author in the case of epic poems as in lyric and elegy. Nevertheless, we have some names, and for the Cypria names that accord with the poem’s connection with Cyprus.16 There were two ancient attempts to undermine the attribution of the Cypria to a Cypriot poet. One was an impudent bid to appropriate the poem for Halicarnassus. A Hellenistic historian of Halicarnassus, one Demodamas, claimed that the title written on manuscripts of the epic, ΚΥΠΡΙΑ, was to be read with a long alpha, Κυπρίᾱ, as the genitive of the poet’s name, and that this poet Kyprias came from Halicarnassus. The absurd claim is reflected in a long verse inscription from Halicarnassus of the second century bce celebrating the glories of the city, and it persuaded Proclus.17 It belongs in the context of the Greek cities’ competitive efforts in the Hellenistic period to provide themselves with an illustrious cultural history. The other attempt to hijack the Cypria dates from rather earlier. As the fame of Homer spread in the late sixth and early fifth centuries, there was a tendency to make him responsible for other epics besides the Iliad and Odyssey. Some people credited him with the Cypria and accounted for the rival attribution to Stasinos by the story that Homer had a daughter whom he wanted to marry off but was too poor to provide a normal dowry, so he gave the Cypria in lieu of a dowry to his new sonin-law, who was Stasinos of Cyprus. The tale was apparently already known to 16 17

On the ascriptions of the Cyclic poems see West, The Epic Cycle, 26–40. Demodamas, FGrH 428 F 1; R. Merkelbach and J. Stauber, Steinepigramme aus dem griechischen Osten I, Stuttgart and Leipzig 1998, 40; Proclus in Phot. Bibl. 319a34 ff.; M. L. West, Greek Epic Fragments, Cambridge Mass. 2003, 64–67.

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Pindar. Herodotus is aware that the ascription to Homer is contentious: he rejects it on account of a contradiction that he finds between the Iliad and the Cypria in regard to Paris’ voyage back to Troy with Helen. He does not, however, mention Stasinos; he says that the passage ‘makes plain that the Cypria is not by Homer but by someone else’, οὐκ ῾Ομήρου ἀλλ᾽ ἄλλου τινός.18 The Cypria, at any rate in the form that was current later, was the longest of the Cyclic epics, in eleven books. We have a good deal of information about its contents. On the one hand we have a plot summary extending over several pages, excerpted from the Chrestomathy of Proclus and transmitted in some manuscripts of the Iliad; it can be supplemented at certain points from the parallel narrative in Apollodorus’ Bibliotheke. On the other hand we have about thirty quotations and references from authors extending from Herodotus to Pausanias and Athenaeus. These fragments show that Proclus’ summary has limitations. They attest the presence in the poem of important episodes of which there is no hint in Proclus. Conversely, Proclus includes an important episode which Herodotus explicitly denies was there. The poem was concerned with the origin of the Trojan War and its early course. It began with a cosmic crisis. The population of the world had increased to the point where the earth was oppressed with the weight. Zeus observed this and took pity on Mother Earth. He decided to lighten her burden by bringing about a great war in which large numbers would die—then they would be under the earth instead of on top. After consulting with Themis, he set his plan in motion. The first step was taken at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis. It was a grand event, attended by all the gods. Among the wedding gifts that Peleus received were the immortal horses Balios and Xanthos and the great spear fashioned from a tall ash on Mount Pelion. Both the spear and the horses were later used by Achilles at Troy, and of course the most significant thing about the marriage of Peleus and Thetis was that it was to produce Achilles, the greatest and most dashing of all the Achaean heroes. The wedding pointed towards the war by another route too. It was the occasion when Eris, the spirit of strife, made her appearance and caused the three goddesses Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite to quarrel about their relative charms. This led to the Judgment of Paris and so to the seduction of Helen. On Zeus’ instruction Hermes conducted the three quarrelling goddesses to Mount Ida for adjudication by Paris. They each offered him a bribe. Hera said that if she was preferred she would give him kingship over all, Athena promised victory in war, and Aphrodite offered union with the world’s most beautiful woman. Paris, more excited by this last prospect than by the alternatives, awarded the victory to Aphrodite. It was now, perhaps, that she told him who the beautiful woman was, and now that the poet gave an account of Helen’s birth. Her parents were both divine. Her mother was the goddess Nemesis, the lovely-haired personification of moral disapproval. Zeus pursued Nemesis over land and sea, while she in the attempt to avoid him turned herself into various unappealing species of animals and 18

Pi. Fr. 265 Snell–Maehler; Hdt. 2.117.

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fish. Finally she took the form of a goose, whereupon Zeus assumed the form of a gander and mated with her. Presently she laid an egg. A shepherd found it and brought it to Leda, who put it away in a chest. When in time Helen hatched out of the egg, Leda raised her as her own daughter. In preparation for Paris’ expedition to seduce her, ships were built at Troy by Phereklos, on Aphrodite’s prompting. The seer Helenos prophesied what would come of all this, and so did Cassandra. Aphrodite told Aeneas to sail with Paris. As there was more than one ship, he and Paris may have sailed in different ones. Paris landed in Lacedaemon and was entertained first by the Tyndarids and then by Menelaos, Helen’s husband. After nine days Menelaos had to sail to Crete for the funeral of his grandfather Katreus. He told Helen to look after the visitors until their departure. Aphrodite brought Paris and Helen together, and after making love they sailed away in the night, taking with them as much as they could carry of Menelaos’ property. It is here that we encounter the striking contradiction between the Proclus summary and the testimony of Herodotus. Proclus says that Hera sent a storm which blew the runaway lovers’ ship east, all the way to Sidon, and Paris took the city (just as if he were a normal warrior hero). Apollodorus adds that as a precaution, in case he was being pursued from Sparta, he remained for a long time in Phoenicia and Cyprus. Then he sailed back to Ilion and celebrated his wedding with Helen. The diversion to Sidon is alluded to in the Iliad, when Hecuba for the supplication to Athena takes out one of the fine robes made by the Sidonian women whom Paris had brought back from Sidon on the voyage on which he brought Helen.19 Now, Herodotus’ principal argument against Homer’s being the author of the Cypria is that this detour to Sidon did not occur in the Cypria, where it was stated that Paris arrived from Sparta at Ilion with Helen on the third day, having had a fair wind and a smooth sea. Evidently the Cypria known to Herodotus was a different recension from the Cypria of Proclus. It is interesting that in Proclus’ version Paris and Helen visit Cyprus as well as Phoenicia. It seems likely that this was the original Cypriot version and that Herodotus knew a shorter version in which the eastern diversion was omitted. There is another fragment of legend about Paris’ and Helen’s travels in the eastern Mediterranean that has been suspected of deriving from the Cypria. A town in Caria called Samylia was said to have been founded by one Motylos, who also gave hospitality to Helen and Paris.20 We may have here a distant echo of a historical association, for this Anatolian Motylos has been identified as the Hittite king Muwatallis, who in about 1275 bce concluded a treaty with Alaksandus of Wilusa. It is just a possibility that these names were remembered in Neo-Hittite tradition in southern Asia Minor, and from there found their way into the Cypriot epic tradition. When Menelaοs discovered that his wife had absconded, he went and conferred with his brother in Mycenae and with Nestor in Pylos. Then the forces were assem19 20

Il. 6.289–292. St. Byz. s.v. Σαμυλία· πόλις Καρίας, Μοτύλου κτίσμα τοῦ τὴν ῾Ελένην καὶ Πάριν ὑποδεξαμένου; G. L. Huxley, A Problem in the Kypria, in: GRBS 8, 1967, 25–27; A. Bernabé, Poetae Epici Graeci I, Leipzig 1987, 52.

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bled for the assault on Troy. They gathered with their ships at Aulis. There they saw the portent of the snake and the sparrows, as recalled in Il. 2.301–330, which Calchas explained as meaning that they would take the city in the tenth year. They sailed off, but having no clear idea of their route they arrived in Mysia and sacked Teuthrania under the misapprehension that it was Troy. The local ruler Telephos drove them off, and as they sailed away their ships were scattered by a storm. Achilles was blown to Scyros, where he made love to the king’s daughter, Deidameia. After he departed she gave birth to Neoptolemos, who was to be brought to Troy after Achilles’ death and help the Achaeans to finish off the war. In defending his realm Telephos had received a serious wound from Achilles’ spear. He learned from an oracle that it could only be healed by the one who had caused it, so he travelled to Greece and found Achilles with the army, which was now reconvening. Achilles healed him, and in return he undertook to guide them to Troy. They gathered at Aulis for the second time. Adverse winds prevented their sailing until, on Calchas’ advice, Agamemnon sacrificed Iphigeneia, for whom, however, Artemis substituted a hind. Then they crossed the sea and landed on Tenedos, where Achilles perhaps killed Tennes the king of the island. Philoctetes was bitten by a snake, and because of the stink of his wound he was taken over to Lemnos and abandoned there. When the fleet reached the Trojan mainland, Achilles continued to be at the centre of events. Thetis had warned him not to be the first to disembark from the ships, as the first to disembark would be the first to die. That was Protesilaos, who after killing no small number of the enemy was slain by Hector. Then Achilles disembarked with the Myrmidons and routed the Trojans by killing Kyknos, who ranked beside Hector and Memnon as one of the three great heroes that he overcame.21 Here perhaps is another distorted echo of Hittite history, as Alaksandus’ immediate predecessor as king of Wilusa was called Kukkunnis. Odysseus and Menelaos went into Troy to demand the return of Helen. The Trojans refused, and the Achaeans proceeded to blockade the city and ravage the surrounding settlements. This inconclusive activity continued into the tenth year. Achilles led the action. He sacked Lyrnessos and Pedasos and many of the surrounding towns. He got into Troy one night, captured Priam’s son Lykaon, and sold him into captivity. He ambushed and slew the beautiful Troilos, another son of Priam, in Apollo’s shrine at Thymbra. At some point, probably early in this sequence of events, there was an extraordinary encounter between Achilles and Helen. He wanted to see her beauty for himself. He must have told his mother, Thetis, because she and Aphrodite at once arranged for the two of them to meet. Afterwards, when the Achaeans were despondent and wanted to go home, Achilles held them back, having seen the beauty of the woman they were fighting for. Another strange episode, one that Proclus fails to mention, is attested by a scholiast on Lycophron. There lived on Delos three amazing maidens, the daughters of 21

Pi. Ol. 2.82.

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Anios, whose names, Oino, Spermo, and Elaiis, mark them as spirits of the vine, the grain, and the olive. They had the ability to feed an entire army indefinitely. It seems that in the Cypria the Achaeans somehow took advantage of this resource, but it is not clear in what circumstances. One version of the story, but probably not the one found in the epic, was that the Greeks called at Delos on their way to Troy and Anios invited them to stay on for nine years, living off his daughters’ produce, as they were fated to sack Ilion only in the tenth year. The Cypria version was more likely that they found themselves suffering from famine at a later stage of the campaign and sent to Delos for the girls, who then came to rescue them.22 A food crisis is also implied by Proclus’ statement that Diomedes and Odysseus drowned their enemy Palamedes on a fishing expedition, as Homeric heroes only fish when they are starving.23 This took place very near the end of the poem. Proclus’ summary concludes as follows: ‘And from the spoils Achilles gets Briseis as his prize, while Agamemnon gets Chryseis. Then comes the death of Palamedes; and Zeus’ plan to relieve the Trojans by removing Achilles from the Greek alliance; and a catalogue of the Trojans’ allies.’ It is evident that the poet was tailoring his work to lead directly on to the Iliad. Aristotle criticizes epics such as the Cypria and the Little Iliad for their episodic nature: ‘with the Iliad and Odyssey a single tragedy can be made from each, or no more than two, whereas from the Cypria many can be made, and from the Little Iliad more than eight’.24 Our knowledge of the Cypria is indirect and fragmentary, but we can see from Proclus’ summary what Aristotle meant. It was an unsatisfactory structure, a collage of everything that happened up to the start of the Iliad. It stood, after all, in a chain of epics that were deemed to make up a Cycle and to form a continuous narrative of the war. What most spoils the structure of the Cypria is the effort to bridge the gap before the Iliad. But perhaps there was an older version in which this continuity was not sought. The original Cypriot poet, Stasinos or whatever he was called, might not have been concerned to stretch his story so far. If we snip off the tendrils that reach out towards the Iliad and let the poem end in the first season of the war instead of trying to account for nine more uneventful years of it, we can see that it may originally have been something more than a mere concatenation of episodes and that it had elements of an organic unity and signs of a distinct poetic character. The parallel birth stories of Achilles and Helen from two goddesses single them out as focuses of interest, and although their roles and destinies are quite different, their extraordinary secret meeting at Troy clearly belongs to the same poet’s design. Paris’ choice of love in preference to kingship or prowess in battle strikes a similarly romantic and anti-heroic note, as do the seduction of Helen and the honeymoon in Cyprus, Aphrodite’s island. And then Achilles, the best of the Achaeans, found love on Scyros and, before returning to the army, left a local princess pregnant with a heroic son. Was this romantic vein characteristic of the Cypriot school of epic poetry? Of course it is an idle question; we cannot know. But we may observe that no effort 22 23 24

Sch. Lyc. 570 = Cypria fr. 26 W.; see West, The Epic Cycle, 123–125. Cypria fr. 27; West, The Epic Cycle, 123. Arist. Po. 1459a37.

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seems to have been made to add any Cypriot heroes to those who fought at Troy, or to play down Kinyras’ lack of commitment to the enterprise. Perhaps Aphrodite’s gentle influence did after all colour the islanders’ literary tastes and incline them to imagine heroes who made love as well as war. BIBLIOGRAPHY Beckmann G. L., Bryce T. R. and Cline E. H., The Ahhiyawa Texts, Atlanta 2011 Bernabé A., Poetae Epici Graeci I, Leipzig 1987 Huxley G. L., A Problem in the Kypria, in: GRBS 8, 1967, 25–27 Jacoby F., Kallikles (3), in: RE X, 1917–1919, 1635–1636 Merkelbach R. and Stauber J., Steinepigramme aus dem griechischen Osten I, Stuttgart and Leipzig 1998 West M. L., The Name of Aphrodite, in: Glotta 76, 2000, 134–138 West M. L., Atreus and Attarissiyas, in: Glotta 77, 2001, 262–266 West M. L., Greek Epic Fragments, Cambridge Mass. 2003 West M. L., The Making of the Iliad, Oxford 2011 West M. L., The Epic Cycle, Oxford 2013 Wilamowitz-Moellendorff U. von, Die Ilias und Homer, Berlin 1916

2 POLYBIUS BETWEEN LINGUISTICS AND NARRATOLOGY. AN ANALYSIS OF 1.6–12 Antonis Tsakmakis Abstract Polybius’ first narrative passage, the account of the Romans’ first crossing of the sea (1.6–12), is artfully composed. The elaborate narrative techniques he applies (focalization, anticipations, narrative rhythm) together with his choice of linguistic devices (use of tense, participial clauses, lexical choices) serve his intention to be persuasive. The text contains narrative patterns that corroborate the author’s historical interpretation of events and support his evaluation of persons or groups. In two representative cases, that is, in the portrayal of Hieron of Syracuse and in the explanation of the Roman’s decision to assist the Mamertini against their own values and previous comportment, Polybius’ elaborate narrative endorses the idea that moral considerations yield to political realism and historical necessity. Despite the length of the extant parts of his work, Polybius only recently started to profit from the increasing interest of classical scholarship in ancient narrative.1 His merits as an author long seemed to be less appealing than his ideas and his value as a historical source, or as a source for his sources. Nevertheless, his tendency for theorising and abstraction, his preoccupation with structure and order, and, not least, his bias make analysis of his narrative indispensable for the interpretation of his work. The present paper is based on a selected section of Polybius. It does not aim at an exhaustive linguistic or narratological analysis thereof – it rather offers an example of the mutual fertilisation of the two approaches for the interpretation of 1

J. Marincola, Greek Historians, Oxford 2001, 124–133; T. Rood, Polybius, in: I. J. F. de Jong – R. Nünlist – A. Bowie (eds.), Narrators, Narratees, and Narratives in Ancient Greek Literature, Leiden 2004, 147–164; T. Rood, Polybius, in: I. J. F. de Jong – R. Nünlist (eds.), Time in Ancient Greek Literature, Leiden 2007, 165–181; N Miltsios, The Perils of Expectations: Perceptions, Suspense and Surprise in Polybius’ Histories, in: J. Grethlein – A. Rengakos (eds.), Narratology and Interpretation, Berlin 2009, 481–506; T. Rood, Polybius, in: I. J. F. de Jong (ed.), Space in Ancient Greek Literature, Leiden 2012, 179–197; N. Miltsios, The Shaping of Narrative in Polybius, Berlin 2013; Narratologically oriented is also J. Davidson, The gaze in Polybius’ Histories, in: JRS 81 (1991) 10–24. For a positive appraisal of Polybius as a writer see B. McGing, Polybius’ Histories, Oxford 2010, 10 (“[…] writing of high quality: attentive to detail, coherently planned, and constantly varied in treatment and subject matter”; cf. also 95–128).

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Polybius, especially when the question revolves around the notion of moral assessment. Incongruity between moral and political judgement is not only a problem of philosophy and political theory; it also perplexes the interpretation of historical texts, especially when it comes to the characterisation of political personalities or groups. The first narrative section of Polybius’ work, the description of the Romans’ first crossing of the sea, has troubled scholars not only because of its historical problems,2 but also owing to the moral issues that it raises. For instance, the historian has been much criticised for being extremely tolerant of the Romans’ misbehaviour, since they provided help to the Campanians who had seized Messana, while the same Romans had punished their own citizens who had done similar wrongdoings in Rhegium; besides, scholars respond with equal embarrassment to the presentation of Hieron II of Syracuse (in a digression which is embedded in this section), who receives warm praise for his leadership, but is not appropriately chastised for a morally reproachful trick.3 The Romans’ first expedition overseas – not very far: to Sicily – is taken by Polybius in 1.5.1 as an appropriate starting point for his prokataskeue, the brief review of Roman history to the year 220 B.C., which marks the beginning of his main narrative. Then, 1.6.1–1.12.4 illustrates the pre-history of this expedition and discloses its cause. Polybius is constantly present behind his narrative: he not only tells the story, but he also reveals its meaning and passes explicit judgments on persons, actions, institutions; this holds especially true for the opening chapters of his work, where he is at pains to demonstrate that his starting point is well-chosen, that the causes of this event are sufficiently explained, and that the narrative is self-standing and makes the interpretation self-evident (1.5.4). Polybius’ ultimate ambition is to lay a firm foundation for his entire work: “opinion being once formed on that point, and 2 3

F. Walbank, A Historical Commentary on Polybius, vol. 1, Oxford 1957, 46–60. See also the discussion of K. E. Petzold, Studien zur Methode des Polybios und zu ihrer historischen Auswertung, München 1969, 129–179. This embarrassement is e.g. reflected in different comments made by an expert on the author in two different publications. While in an earlier paper A. M. Eckstein, Polybius, Syracuse, and the Politics of Accomodation, in: GRBS 26 (1985) 265–82 expressed the opinion that Polybius treats Hieron as an ideal leader, he later remarks: “The historian definitely presents the unsavory conduct of a much earlier Greek ruler – Hiero of Syracuse in the 270s – in a neutral or even approving tone. But there are special circumstances involved. Having seized Syracuse in a military coup – an action of which Polybius does not approve, but that he finds mitigated by Hiero’s subsequent mildness toward the citizens (1.8.3–4; cf. 7.8.1–8) – Hiero set about consolidating his regime by the elimination of the mercenaries who formed a good part of the Syracusan army. In a battle with the Mamertines, Hiero therefore allowed his mercenaries to be slaughtered, while he intentionally kept back his citizen troops (1.9.4–6). And Polybius’s assessment of this act of treachery is that Hiero had conducted himself πραγματικῶς (1.9.6.). Perhaps this is merely a morally neutral judgment on the efficiency with which Hiero had achieved his goal; but the epithet generally has favorable connotations. The whole passage therefore seems to most moderns – in De Sanctis’s words – infelice [with reference to De Sanctis, Storia dei Romani 3.1, 94 n. 8]” (A. M. Eckstein, Moral Vision in the Histories of Polybius, Berkeley – Los Angeles 1995, 90–91).

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a general assent obtained, all the succeeding narrative becomes intelligible” (1.5.5). We grasp here the monological quality of his discourse. The author seems to make an effort to convince readers to agree with him. His authoritative persona is the result of a worry to be persuasive. Thus, a reasonable working hypothesis is that he employs narrative devices that correspond to this character of his text. Polybius writes universal history, a history of the whole world, a project which he regards as reasonable, since Fortune has unified world history (1.4.1) and urged the history of the parts to converge and to move towards the same end (another fundamental characteristic of Polybius, his fascination with conceptual metaphors, becomes evident here). In 1.4.9 he explains the advantages of a comprehensive historical overview: although knowledge of a part cannot substitute or sufficiently improve the understanding of the whole, and despite the fact that complete knowledge of all history is impossible, still it is helpful to study the interweaving of various parts and to relate the parts to each other, in order to find out similarities and differences. The proem not only contains the author’s theory behind universal history, but also reveals the principles according to which the opening narrative has been modelled. My analysis of this narrative aims at showing how narrative techniques, which can better be grasped thanks to an examination of linguistic aspects, sustain the construction of meaning and support the communicative goal of the text. Chapter 6 is a narrative introduction to the account of the Romans’ passage to Sicily, the introduction of Polybius’ prokataskeue. Accordingly, it has to be analysed separately. My analysis will mainly focus on the narrative function of verbs (verbs of the main clauses are underlined) and background participles (bold); further aspects of language usage and narrative technique such as point of view and lexical correspondences will be occasionaly commented upon. The text is more or less a series of condensed chronographic entries in narrative form. It contains abundant references to events that are supposed to be known to the reader (the sea-battle at Aigos Potamoi, the battle of Leuctra, the peace of Antalcidas, Dionysius’ victory at Elleporus, Pyrrhus’ campaign, the Gauls’ campaign to Greece and Asia); the reader is not supposed to be in need of additional information, historical or geographical: from the frequent use of the definite article in 1.6.1 we infer that identification of all places, names and events mentioned in this paragraph is taken for granted. Starting from point zero, after Rome has been seized by the Gauls (6.2) about a century earlier, the Romans recover their city (6.3), fight against their neighbours in Latium, then against Tyrrhenians, Celts and Samnites, then against the Italians, culminating with those who had fought on the side of Pyrrhus. Finally, they besiege Rhegium (πολιορκεῖν ἐνεχείρησαν, 6.8), which was under the control of a Roman detachment: (6) ἔτος μὲν οὖν ἐνειστήκει μετὰ μὲν τὴν ἐν Αἰγὸς ποταμοῖς ναυμαχίαν ἐννεακαιδέκατον, πρὸ δὲ τῆς ἐν Λεύκτροις μάχης ἑκκαιδέκατον, (2) ἐν ᾧ Λακεδαιμόνιοι μὲν τὴν ἐπ᾽ Ἀνταλκίδου λεγομένην εἰρήνην πρὸς βασιλέα τῶν Περσῶν ἐκύρωσαν καὶ πρεσβύτερος Διονύσιος τῇ περὶ τὸν Ἐλλέπορον ποταμὸν μάχῃ νενικηκὼς τοὺς κατὰ τὴν Ἰταλίαν Ἕλληνας ἐπολιόρκει Ῥήγιον, Γαλάται δὲ κατὰ κράτος ἑλόντες αὐτὴν τὴν Ῥώμην κατεῖχον πλὴν τοῦ Καπετωλίου. (3) πρὸς οὓς ποιησάμενοι Ῥωμαῖοι σπονδὰς καὶ διαλύσεις εὐδοκουμένας Γαλάταις καὶ γενόμενοι πάλιν ἀνελπίστως τῆς πατρίδος ἐγκρατεῖς

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Antonis Tsakmakis καὶ λαβόντες οἷον ἀρχὴν τῆς συναυξήσεως ἐπολέμουν ἐν τοῖς ἑξῆς χρόνοις πρὸς τοὺς ἀστυγείτονας. (4) γενόμενοι δ᾽ ἐγκρατεῖς ἁπάντων τῶν Λατίνων διά τε τὴν ἀνδρείαν καὶ τὴν ἐν ταῖς μάχαις ἐπιτυχίαν μετὰ ταῦτ᾽ ἐπολέμουν Τυρρηνοῖς, ἔπειτα Κελτοῖς, ἑξῆς δὲ Σαυνίταις τοῖς πρός τε τὰς ἀνατολὰς καὶ τὰς ἄρκτους συντερμονοῦσι τῇ τῶν Λατίνων χώρᾳ. (5) μετὰ δέ τινα χρόνον Ταραντίνων διὰ τὴν εἰς τοὺς πρεσβευτὰς Ῥωμαίων ἀσέλγειαν καὶ τὸν διὰ ταῦτα φόβον ἐπισπασαμένων Πύρρον, τῷ πρότερον ἔτει τῆς τῶν Γαλατῶν ἐφόδου τῶν τε περὶ Δελφοὺς φθαρέντων καὶ περαιωθέντων εἰς τὴν Ἀσίαν, (6) Ῥωμαῖοι Τυρρηνοὺς μὲν καὶ Σαυνίτας ὑφ᾽ αὑτοὺς πεποιημένοι, τοὺς δὲ κατὰ τὴν Ἰταλίαν Κελτοὺς πολλαῖς μάχαις ἤδη νενικηκότες, τότε πρῶτον ἐπὶ τὰ λοιπὰ μέρη τῆς Ἰταλίας ὥρμησαν, οὐχ ὡς ὑπὲρ ὀθνείων, ἐπὶ δὲ τὸ πλεῖον ὡς ὑπὲρ ἰδίων ἤδη καὶ καθηκόντων σφίσι πολεμήσοντες, ἀθληταὶ γεγονότες ἀληθινοὶ τῶν κατὰ τὸν πόλεμον ἔργων ἐκ τῶν πρὸς τοὺς Σαυνίτας καὶ Κελτοὺς ἀγώνων. (7) ὑποστάντες δὲ γενναίως τὸν πόλεμον τοῦτον καὶ τὸ τελευταῖον τάς τε δυνάμεις καὶ Πύρρον ἐκβαλόντες ἐκ τῆς Ἰταλίας αὖθις ἐπολέμουν καὶ κατεστρέφοντο τοὺς κοινωνήσαντας Πύρρῳ τῶν πραγμάτων. (8) γενόμενοι δὲ παραδόξως ἁπάντων ἐγκρατεῖς καὶ ποιησάμενοι τοὺς τὴν Ἰταλίαν οἰκοῦντας ὑφ᾽ αὑτοὺς πλὴν Κελτῶν μετὰ ταῦτα πολιορκεῖν ἐνεχείρησαν τοὺς τότε κατέχοντας τὸ Ῥήγιον Ῥωμαίους.

The first verb is part of the dating: a pluperfect (ἐνειστήκει) which expresses a (continuous) situation at a given moment in the past (reference time: the advancing time of narrative),4 whereas the statement does not hold any more at the moment the utterance is made (speech time).5 Most other verbs of main clauses in this chapter (4 of a total of 6) are imperfective. We notice an almost formulaic repetition of ἐπολέμουν; it is used 3 times, its last occurrence is accompanied by a second verb (κατεστρέφοντο; it is not used again in 1.6–12),6 which marks a climax in the illustration of the Romans’ activity, both semantically and rhetorically. If the repeated use of ἐπολέμουν maximizes the value of the imperfect7 and implies a recurrent, almost habitual process, the reader is entitled to expect that the new (imperfective) verb, by analogy, also refers to a further, similar process, not to an occasional incident. Thus, the reader is prepared to learn about the further, incessant expansion of Rome which will be illustrated in the next section, and this is of much importance for the assessment of subsequent events. The passage also contains two perfective verb forms (ὥρμησαν, ἐνεχείρησαν). The use of aorist in a narrative which is dominated by imperfects usually structures it by marking a narrative peak or a closure (as a consequence of an accomplished 4 5 6 7

For the distinction between reference time and speech time see C.S. Smith, Modes of Discourse. The Local Structure of Texts, Cambridge 2003, 93. For a similar usage of the pluperfect see e.g. X. HG. 4.4.14: ἐκ δὲ τούτου στρατιαὶ μὲν μεγάλαι ἑκατέρων διεπέπαυντο … Regularity is further suggested by αὖθις which, on the other hand, it makes the second verb κατεστρέφοντο even more welcome: it rebuts a growing feeling of monotony, which after αὖθις is foregrounded. “The imperfect form indicates that the event is viewed as unbounded: its initial and terminal boundaries remain out of focus.” (R. J. Allan, History as Presence. Time, tense and narrative modes in Thucydides, in: A. Tsakmakis – M. Tamiolaki (eds.), Thucydides between History and Literature, Berlin 2013, 357–374, esp. 363). Imperfects in narrative indicate that “there is more to come” (M. Buijs, Clause Combining in Ancient Greek Narrative Discourse, Leiden 2005, 162).

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action). While the use of perfective tense eventually subdivides, and, finally, concludes the narrative, the verbs used here undermine this function, because of their lexical meaning. From a semantic point of view, the narrative breaks suggested by the use of the aorist do not mark the completion, but rather the launching of an action, because the verbs which are used denote beginning or attempt.8 These verbs belong to the category categorized by W. Chafe as “low content” verbs;9 both the expressions ἐπὶ τὰ λοιπὰ μέρη τῆς Ἰταλίας ὥρμησαν (with the future participle πολεμήσοντες) and πολιορκεῖν ἐνεχείρησαν in § 8 are prospective. Consequently, they direct the reader’s attention toward a future event. On the other hand, the governing ideas of continuity and regularity generate the expectation of successful accomplishment. Eventually, § 7 confirms that the action annnounced in § 6 has been successfully completed, and this strengthens even more analogous expectations for the action initiated in the closure of the chapter in § 8. This is, however, not explicitly anticipated, hence the reader becomes to a certain extent co-responsible for such a tentative reading of the text. Failure of the Romans would lead to the reader’s partial disappointment. Polybius’ narrative not only fabricates the reader’s solidarity with the Romans, but also forestalls their evaluation. His subjective judgement is not focused in the text, but is artfully provided as background knowledge conveyed by participial clauses. Together with definite verb forms, participial clauses are also expected to contribute to the narrative progress.10 In ch. 6 a particular participial phrase (ἐγκρατεῖς γενόμενοι) recurs three times: this is again an almost formulaic way of expression which corroborates the impression of patterning; it suggests resemblance of historical events, and, in combination with the repeated use of ἐπολέμουν, it implicitly encourages the reader to classify Roman action as “regular”. As will soon come out, the notion of historical parallelism will be applied on historical events in the next chapters. In §§ 3–4 there are four perfective participles (three in § 3 and one in § 4), the role of which is to provide background information. Conjunct participles ideally resume already available information or provide new information that is not focalized, but has to be related to the matrix verb. In a historical narrative, and especially in a comprehensive historical summary like the passage under examination, this background information conveyed by perfective participles is expected to contribute to the narration of events that happened in the past. However, this is not the case here. The 3 particles of § 3 have a different narrative function each: ποιησάμενοι 8

9

10

This impression is further enhanced by the fact that perfective verb forms occur together with adverbial termporal phrases such as μετὰ δέ τινα χρόνον and μετὰ ταῦτα which structure reference time and, usually, mark new narrative units (temporal adverbs and adverbial phrases articulate a text into segments). See W. Chafe, Discourse, Consciousness, and Time, Chicago and London 1994, 111–113. Chafe defines as low-content verb a verb which “does not carry a full load of activation cost. Instead of expressing an independent idea of its own, the verb is subservient to the idea expressed by the object” (111). Buijs, Clause Combining, 187–196.

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eventually contributes to the narrative progression, since it provides new information regarding a completed action. The next participial phrase, γενόμενοι ἐγκρατεῖς, strongly depends on the previous one, it illustrates a consequence of the agreement. What is communicated here is not a new event which came after the one already mentioned. Temporal advancement is rather suggested through the inchoative aspect of the participle: it expresses the reaching of a state which will be maintained in the future. The reader’s need or expectation for narrative progress is further satisfied (or rather recompensed) by the narrator’s latent intervention: his evaluation of the event, expressed by the adverb ἀνελπίστως (it coheres with Polybius’ idea for the role of Tyche in history, as it was announced in the prefatory chapters of the work – hence it becomes evident that this evaluation expresses the author’s point of view). Finally, the third participle is pseudo-narrative: despite its perfective form, it does not provide new information on what happened at this temporal stage. It is both inchoative and perspective (note the use of οἷον, which suggests fluidity and subjectivity); such a statement can only be uttered from a point of view in the future. Thus, there is a movement in time, but no progress in reference time – there is a shift of perspective towards speech-time. This is a comment on the narrated events which assumes but also anticipates knowledge of the outcome from the time and point of view of the author – a characteristic not of narrative, but of reporting.11 The most complex syntactic period is §§ 5–6, which includes not only preposed (3) but also postposed (2) participles (they are found only here in this chapter). Neither the preposed nor the postposed participles are grammatically similar and syntactically equivalent to the other participles of their respective category. In addition, the preposed participles differ from all preposed participles of ch. 6 in various ways. Since the perfective verb suggests a temporary stop of the narrative, the stylistically outstanding elements of this sentence further emphasise the special character of the action it denotes. The first participle is an absolute genitive (ἐπισπασαμένων), whose syntactical subject for the first time in this chapter are not the Romans, so it refers to a different string of action (i.e. other than Rome’s military activity: the Tarentines’ invitation to Pyrrhus to intervene in Italy) and dates it exactly. The method of dating is slightly unexpected (as a point of reference are used Gauls’ military operations in Delphi and in Asia), but in combination with the reference to Pyrrhus’ arrival in Italy, it highlights the motif of a campaign overseas. Hence, it suggests that such operations are all but unusual, and prepares the reader for the Roman passage to Sicily; operations of this kind are not only frequent, they are normal: in this way negative evaluation of the Romans is prevented to a certain degree. The reference to the new challenge that the Romans were facing leads the narrator to an interim balance: two participles (πεποιημένοι, νενικηκότες) upgrade the achievements of the Romans from single incidents, from “events”, to “states”. On the other hand, the two postponed participles of § 6 clearly convey overt evaluation. The first (πολεμήσοντες) resumes the verb which is consistently used 11

According to Smith, Modes of Discourse, 243, “[i]n Reports, events, states, and General Statives are related to Speech Time: texts progress back and forth”.

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for the Romans’ activity and associates it for the first time with their high morale.12 The second (γεγονότες) resumes the Romans’ previous achievements (the victories over their neighbours) and celebrates their importance for the development of Roman bravery in a high-flawn rhetorical manner. The verb πολεμῶ –a leitmotif of the whole chapter– is indirectly resumed in the first pre-posed participle of § 7 (ὑποστάντες … τὸν πόλεμον τοῦτον); the next participle provides new information (Πύρρον ἐκβαλόντες ἐκ τῆς Ἰταλίας), which is appropriately ordered as the last incident of this phase (καὶ τὸ τελευταῖον; the phrase corresponds to τότε πρῶτον in § 6). Finally, the participles of § 8 refer to the entire narrative of ch. 6 and summarize the totality of action. As the reading of the passage makes manifest, we are confronted with a success story; the preposed perfective participles we find in sentence-initial position in §§ 4, 7 and 8, which, in narrative terms, are at first sight formally progressive, are perceived as quasi-resumptive, new information being limited to adverbs or complements (§ 8: ἁπάντων); since the adverbs here clearly reflect the author’s point of view, we may conclude that typical narrative forms are exploited in an unorthodox manner so as to convey evaluation. Evaluation is further suggested through focalization. In § 3 the attributive participle εὐδοκουμένας refers to the Gauls’ opinions, while in ἀνελπίστως the Romans’ and the author’s perspectives merge. Also ambiguous is the perspective of a participial phrase in § 6: the Romans are the grammatical subject of the future participle, which, however, involves epistemic modality (but the use of future here implies a lower degree of certainty), and this is a favorable condition for the author to make his own appraisal understood. The chapter ends with a paradox: Romans besiege Romans; and, what is more, the besieged have under their control Rhegium. It is not the first time that Polybius’ reader hears of Rhegium being besieged. In § 1 the occupation of Rome by the Gauls has been dated by reference to various events; among them figures the siege of Rhegium by Dionysius of Syracuse. Thus, we had left the city besieged by Dionysios, now we return to find it besieged by the Romans. The linguistic form of the chronological entry also deserves commentary. From the four dates the historian provides for the temporal co-ordination of the reported event (Rome’s occupation and the settlement with the Gauls, for which imperfective verb forms are used) the first two are nominal phrases (μετὰ … τὴν ἐν Αἰγὸς ποταμοῖς ναυμαχίαν and πρὸ … τῆς ἐν Λεύκτροις μάχης), the third is a verbal phrase with a perfective tense (ἐν ᾧ Λακεδαιμόνιοι … ἐκύρωσαν), while the fourth, the reference to the siege, is imperfective (and hence synchronizing rather than dating): καὶ πρεσβύτερος Διονύσιος … ἐπολιόρκει Ῥήγιον. This progressive shift from objectified background knowledge (more suitable for the purpose of dating events), to more narrative expressions places the reference to Dionysius’ siege of Rhegium between the two poles: it appears both as a means to date other events and as part of the 12

The reader can recognise a parallel in Thucydides 1.70.7, where the Corinthians make similar claims about the Athenians.

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narrated material itself. It is the second siege which is reported in § 8 that gives the (ambiguous) mention of the first its full sense, beyond the need to provide chronological information (a debatable need, even if it is the only date taken from Western history). First, it serves as a matrix for the Romans’ undertaking: the defamiliarization effect (again Rhegium, but another siege) initially foregrounds the action, then it stimulates a feeling of regularity; secondly, the reference to the first siege of Rhegium introduces a Syracusan ruler, Dionysius. While both Rome and Rhegium reappear in the closure of the chapter, we hear nothing about Dionysius. This suspense will be soon resolved with the introduction of another Syracusan Hieron, whose story will have to receive our full attention. We observed so far that chapter 6 is artfully constructed and that language usage serves the author’s narrative strategies. The historical narrative is not only embedded in rhetorical argumentation, in conformity with Polybius’ prefatory declarations, but it also becomes a pretext or vehicle for subjective evaluation. Analysis of the text helps to disclose the author’s priorities. These are: (1) to suggest historical patterns and to illustrate constant Roman expansion as a normal state which justifies analogous expectations, (2) to create suspense through the absolute dominance of imperfective action (even where the narrative suggests the accomplishment of an action, expressed with perfective verb tenses) which prompts the narrative towards an impending event, (3) to canonize also the “unexpected” so as to make an otherwise unacceptable decision appear less astonishing, finally (4) to mask the author’s evaluation as backgroung knowledge. Thus, the narrative minimizes the conditions for a negative evaluation of the Romans in the following section. It is not possible to analyse in detail Polybius’ long and complex narrative 1.7–12 which deals with the incidents in Messana and Rhegium. Therefore, we provide a summary presentation of its structure and content followed by a commentary on selected language and narrative subtleties.13 The commentary will be limited to the discussion of matters which require a more detailed investigation; preliminary comments on temporal structure will be integrated in the overview, placed in brackets []; I also indicate through italics the places where manifest authorial interventions and comments are found. Given that our main interest is to examine how the narrative suggests an (as positive as possible) evaluation of Hiero’s stratagem and of the Romans’ decision, I restrict my analysis to ch. 7–10, which report the events up to the moment of the decision. 7.1 Polybius announces a narrative analepsis on two similar (παραπλήσιον) and unusual (ἴδιον) events[1] that happened in Messana and Rhegium. 7.2–4 The first incident to be reported is the deceitful occupation of Messana by Campanian mercenaries,[2] who behave cruelly.[3] 13

A more systematic examination would prove that Polybius’ techniques are not dissimilar from those employed by Herodotus, as they are illustrated by I. J. F. De Jong, Narrative Unity and Units, in: E. J. Bakker, I. J. F. de Jong, H. van Wees (eds.), Brill’s Companion to Herodotus, Leiden 2002, 245–266, esp. 259–263.

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7.5 Polybius announces that this action immediately found imitators. 7.6–8 A Roman contingent deceitfully seized Rhegium and commits similar[4] wrongdoing on the population.[5] [The similar events which had been announced seem to have been told]. 7.9–13 The Romans (after some delay, which was due to the wars described in ch. 6) seize Rhegium, punish the invaders and restore order. [The story here reaches a point which has been anticipated in 6.8. As the story of the Messana string will advance beyond this point, the reader may wonder whether there are further similarities between the two stories]. 8.1–2 During a first period when they could rely on the support of the Roman invaders of Rhegium, the Campanian invaders of Messana were involved in further hostilities agaist Syracusans, Carthaginians and some Sicilians. [This is a narrative analepsis which ends by synchronizing events with the end of the previous section; what follows advances the narrative]. After the restoration of order in Rhegium the Campanians withdrew in Messana and were besieged by the Syracusans.[6] A detailed account intended to explain the reason for this is announced. 8.3–9.8 A longer narrative analepsis recounts recent Syracusan history (the Greek text is printed in the Appendix). The narrative is oriented on Hieron:[7] his personality and his career from young age are approached biographically (8.3–9.3);[8] a first, unsuccessful clash with the Campanians is reported in 9.3–9.6; nevertheless, Hieron’s defeat was organized by himself:[9] Hieron primarily intended to let his unreliable mercenaries perish. Later, after having reformed his forces, Hieron triumphs over the Campanians and is proclaimed king of Syracuse[10] (9.7–8). 10.1–2 The defeated Campanians withdraw in the city [the analepsis has now reached the point which had been anticipated in 8.2].[11] A part of them invite the Carthaginians and offer them control of the acropolis. Others, however, ask Rome for help on the basis of kinship.[12] 10.3–4 Romans have been long hesitating to act in a different manner than in Rhegium (i.e. to contradict their principles and their history). [13] 10.5–9 Fear of Carthaginian expansion eventually forced Romans to respond to the Campanians’ petition and cross the straits. Commentary [1] ἴδιον γάρ τι συνέβη καὶ παραπλήσιον ἑκατέραις ταῖς περὶ τὸν πορθμὸν ἐκτισμέναις πόλεσιν· εἰσὶ δ᾽αὗται Μεσσήνη καὶ Ῥήγιον: The perfective verb form also here belongs to a low-content verb which indicates “occurrence”; consequently, the reader is again referred to the entire predicate in order to satisfy her/his need for new information. Thus, the author establishes in advance his authoritative, speech-time perspective of the events. “Similar” is prima facie more descriptive/objective; “strange” is subjective. Was it strange, because it was similar? Presumably yes – such incidents are not particularly unusual. But as ἴδιον comes first, its dependence on παραπλήσιον is dimmed, and corroborates expectations of the unexpected. Ultimately, similarity and exceptionality are not absolutely matching categories. The Romans’ intervention is (accordng to the standard moral perceptions) more strange than akin to any

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other example. But the solemn announcement of 1.7.1 provides a (slightly distorting) frame, and, by suggesting that the Romans were following an already established pattern, appeases the impressions of their culpability. [2] Also here we observe the use of low-content verbs in perfective form in significant points of the narrative; they convey evaluation rather than advance the narrative (7.2, ἐπεχείρησαν παρασπονδεῖν: a verb of “attempt”, which promises very little regarding eventuality, supplemented by an imperfective infinitive whose semantics involve moral and legal judgement, of course from the author’s perspective). The formally narrative, low-content verb allows for a smooth transition from historical content to implicit comment. [3] The interplay of perfective and imperfective verb forms in the structuring of the narrative is again intriguing. The episodic action is carried mainly by perfective verb forms, while imperfective forms are primarily used in contrastive structures suggesting an opposition “delay vs. action”: 7.2 καὶ πάλαι … ὀφθαλμιῶντες – ἅμα τῷ λαβεῖν καιρὸν εὐθὺς ἐπεχείρησαν παρασπονδεῖν; cf. 7.7 where the verb παρασπονδεῖν is used again in a similar construction to mark the peak of the narrative unit: χρόνον μέν τινα διετήρουν – 7.7 τέλος δὲ … παρεσπόνδησαν. The perfective παρεσπόνδησαν indicates increasing intensity of action, if weighed against the conative expression ἐπεχείρησαν παρασπονδεῖν. [4] In two cases the narrator uses proper names with a definite article as narrative topics, although they are not known to the reader. The first is found here (7.8): τέλος δὲ ζηλώσαντες (sc. the Romans, as subject) τοὺς Μαμερτίνους, ἅμα δὲ καὶ συνεργοὺς λαβόντες αὐτοὺς παρεσπόνδησαν τοὺς Ῥηγίνους. The reader ignores who the Mamertines are, and, therefore, has to use all available information in order to infer their identity:14 the Campanians (the motif of envy, ζηλώσαντες, can possibly suggest the line: whom else could the Romans envy?). In any case, uncertainty is dissolved later, in 8.1: οἱ δὲ Μαμερτῖνοι — τοῦτο γὰρ τοὔνομα κυριεύσαντες οἱ Καμπανοὶ τῆς Μεσσήνης προσηγόρευσαν σφᾶς αὐτούς … This response to the readers’ needs, albeit belated, shows that the withholding of information is conscious and deliberate. The reader is encouraged to be actively involved in the construction of meaning by looking for similarities and adequately exploiting them. The second exemple (see below [8]) will further corroborate this estimation. [5] The verbs used in the concluding phrase of § 8 (καὶ τοὺς μὲν ἐκβαλόντες, τοὺς δ᾽ ἀποσφάξαντες τῶν πολιτῶν τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον τοῖς Καμπανοῖς κατέσχον τὴν πόλιν) reproduce vocabulary used in § 3 (παρεισελθόντες δ᾽ ὡς φίλιοι καὶ κατασχόντες τὴν πόλιν οὓς μὲν ἐξέβαλον τῶν πολιτῶν, οὓς δ᾽ ἀπέσφαξαν). This is not surprising, on the contrary there are further lexical correspondences (παρασπονδεῖν, which is used more freely in 7.8, as a genuine narrative perfective verb: παρεσπόνδησαν τοὺς Ῥηγίνους). But it is remarkable that here the narrative function of the verbs is inversed. In the Campanians’ attack on Messana (7.3) the occupation of the city is background information to the main 14

R. Laqueur, Polybius, Berlin 1913, 178–179 fails to realize the reason for this and condemns Polybius’ careless reproduction of his sources! He makes the sources equally responsible for many stylistic features which, however, can by explained by narrative analysis.

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action, the verbs of the matrix clause are ἐξέβαλον and ἀπέσφαξαν. In 7.8 murder and expulsion are in the background, occupation of the city is the action proper. This slight differentiation can convey implicit characterization. The Campanians’ crime appears more severe, and this proves a source of tension, since order is not immediately restored as in Rhegium. On the other hand, the open-endedness of the Messana-story is suggested by the imperfective verb form κατεῖχον (§ 4) at the end. This verb is used for the second time for the Campanians (it is the concluding verb of the Rhegium-episode, as well). But there is a difference between the two concluding verbs, which suggests a difference in duration. Κατέσχον in § 8 is semelfactive, it denotes an action (or accomplishment). Κατεῖχον in § 4 refers to a situation – there is no foreseeable termination. Thus, behind a seeming monotony of Polybius’ lexical preferences there is subtle variation. [6] A large number of perfective verbs in 8.2 foreshadow the length and importance of the Hieron-digression (ἐπεὶ δ᾽ ἐστερήθησαν τῆς προειρημένης ἐπικουρίας, συγκλεισθέντων τῶν τὸ Ῥήγιον κατεχόντων εἰς τὴν πολιορκίαν, παρὰ πόδας ὑπὸ τῶν Συρακοσίων αὐτοὶ πάλιν συνεδιώχθησαν εἰς τὴν πόλιν διά τινας τοιαύτας αἰτίας). Their occurrence is prepared by an equally long series of imperfective forms (8.1: … ἕως μὲν συνεχρῶντο τῇ τῶν Ῥωμαίων συμμαχίᾳ …, οὐ μόνον τῆς ἑαυτῶν πόλεως καὶ χώρας ἀσφαλῶς κατεκράτουν, ἀλλὰ καὶ περὶ τῆς συνορούσης οὐχ ὡς ἔτυχε παρηνώχλουν τοῖς τε Καρχηδονίοις καὶ τοῖς Συρακοσίοις καὶ πολλὰ μέρη τῆς Σικελίας ἐφορολόγουν), which recapitulate the pre-history. [7] In the biographical part of the story of Hieron the predominant focalizing narrative device is the use of historical present, which is for the first time used here in Polybius’ text (bold print in the Appendix). The present is progressive and unbounded, and constrasts the perfective aorists of the framing narrative 8.3–5 and 9.8.15 [8] A private story which deals with Hieron’s marriage with the daughter of Leptines, a highly respected citizen, seems irrelevant to the political and military action. Nevertheless, it manifests Hieron’s realism and opportunism; moreover, the relation to Leptines enforces Hieron’s high esteem by the people (cf. also the repeated mention of other people’s opinions, esp. Hieron’s indirect praise 8.5: ὃς ἐκ τῶν πρώτων ἐπινοημάτων εὐθέως δῆλος ἦν τοῖς ὀρθῶς σκοπουμένοις μειζόνων ὀρεγόμενος ἐλπίδων ἢ κατὰ τὴν στρατηγίαν). As focalizers, third persons guarantee the “objectivity” of Hieron’s assessment. The application of such a device in an otherwise comprehensive account, suggests, together with the historical present, that the story is pivotal for the interpretation of the whole section. Again here a proper name is topic, although readers are not familiar with it (9.2): τὸν δὲ Λεπτίνην εἰδὼς καὶ τῇ προστασίᾳ καὶ τῇ πίστει πολὺ διαφέροντα τῶν ἄλλων πολιτῶν, εὐδοκιμοῦντα δὲ καὶ παρὰ τῷ πλήθει διαφερόντως, συνάπτεται κηδείαν πρὸς αὐτόν, βουλόμενος οἷον ἐφεδρείαν ἀπολιπεῖν ἐν τῇ πόλει τοῦτον, ὅτ᾽ αὐτὸν ἐξιέναι δέοι μετὰ τῶν δυνάμεων ἐπὶ τὰς πράξεις. 15

Cf. C. S. Smith, The Domain of Tense, in: J. Guéron – J. Decarme (eds.), The Syntax of Time, Cambridge 2004, 597–620.

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The use of the definite article implies that Leptines is identifiable. According to Chafe,16 identifiable referents have to fulfill 3 conditions: a) To qualify as already shared knowledge between interlocutors – this is not the case here – b) to be verbalized in a sufficiently identifying way, – this holds true for the case we discussed under [4] and only partly here – c) to be contextually salient: this is what we have to expect. Nevertheless, no additional information is provided. The reader is referred to the text itself, and this text is focalized internally, it is presented from Hieron’s perspective. In the case of the introduction of the term “Mamertines” in 7.8, the text reflected the perspective of the Romans (the glossing of 8.1 was uttered from the narrator’s point of view). In the case of Leptines, the narrator adopts Hieron’s perspective. The reader is forced to adopt it too, in order to successfully manage the information. [9] Apart from the use of historical present (above [7]) the most salient narrative feature of this central part of the diggression on Hieron is persistent internal focalization. As soon as Hieron’s authority is established (effectively, thanks to the reference to third focalizers), the narrator reports in ch. 9 extensively his thoughts (see Appendix, italic). Remarkable is again the formulaic repetition of the same verb (θεωρῶν, συνθεωρῶν, θεωρῶν). [10] In 8.3 Hieron is introduced by an anticipation of his later becoming a king. Thus, the reader becomes attentive to even the least detail concerning him. Still, we are not told how the story of Hieron has to be related to the other stories of the narrative, and this increases the reader’s alertness. We know, however, from 8.2 that this narrative will illustrate the cause of the Campanians’ withdrawal. 9.8 makes finally clear that Hieron is proclaimed king after (and, presumably, because) his success against the Campanians. This emphasizes the importance of the victory, as it resolves all suspense. [11] In 10.1 (οἱ δὲ Μαμερτῖνοι πρότερον μὲν ἐστερημένοι τῆς ἐπικουρίας τῆς ἐκ τοῦ Ῥηγίου, καθάπερ ἀνώτερον εἶπον, τότε δὲ τοῖς ἰδίοις πράγμασιν ἐπταικότες ὁλοσχερῶς διὰ τὰς νῦν ῥηθείσας αἰτίας, οἱ μὲν ἐπὶ Καρχηδονίους κατέφευγον καὶ τούτοις ἐνεχείριζον σφᾶς αὐτοὺς καὶ τὴν ἄκραν, 2οἱ δὲ πρὸς Ῥωμαίους ἐπρέσβευον, παραδιδόντες τὴν πόλιν καὶ δεόμενοι βοηθήσειν σφίσιν αὐτοῖς ὁμοφύλοις ὑπάρχουσιν) we are informed about the disadvantageous position of the Campanians, but we are not told again that they have been expelled from the country and forced to withdraw into the city. The reader has to retrieve this information and identify the situation as the same as in 8.2. The narrative economy forces the reader to treat the story as a cohernt literary text, not as a typical, straightforward narrative. [12] The Campanians claim to be ὁμόφυλοι (10.2) with the Romans. This is the last attribute in a series of explicit or implicit assertions on their ethnic identity. The reader not only has noted the non-Greek, unfamiliar name Mamertines (see above [4]), but has also encountered several instances in the narrative of Hieron’s war against them where they were refered to as “barbarians” (9.4; 9.7; 9.8). This is a further sign that even Polybius’ third-person narrative is implicitly focalized: it re16

Chafe, Discourse, Consciousness, and Time, 94.

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flects the Syracusans’ point of view. From their perspective the Mamertines (Campanians) were barbarians. It follows that the Romans would be equally viewed by the Syracusans as barbarians. This implicitly deepens the opposition between Romans and Syracusans. And if the characterization of Romans as “barbarians” is untenable for Polybius’ audience, Roman intervention in Sicily seems inevitable. Hence, focalization provides further implicit justification to the Romans’ case. [13] Speed of action is a motif that links together various episodes within the narrative. The Campanians act immediately, as soon as they have the opportunity (7.2: ἅμα τῷ λαβεῖν καιρὸν εὐθύς), a motif resumed in 7.5 (ταχὺ δὲ καὶ ῥᾳδίως καλῆς χώρας καὶ πόλεως ἐγκρατεῖς γενόμενοι παρὰ πόδας εὗρον μιμητὰς τῆς πράξεως); here the same hastiness is attributed to the Roman invaders (παρὰ πόδας; note the focus position of the adverbs). But also the reestablishment of order in the case of Rhegium was linked with this sequence of events by means of the same motif: although the Romans reacted with some delay (7.9), as they were involved in other wars, the motif of speediness is not absent from the story, it is applied in 7.13 to the event of returning Rhegion to its inhabitants (παραχρῆμα). This makes the pending restoration of order and the restoration of historical symmetry in the case of Messana more acute. Still, the motive παρὰ πόδας appears in 8.2, when we are told about the withdrawal of the Campanians into their city, because of their defeat by the Syracusans. But the question is here: Is this the expected restoration of order? Since the answer to this question can only be negative, the final solution is expected. The decision in Rome will be again delayed: the motive of Roman delay in this narrative is in contrast with the rashness of all other protagonists, and this strongly suggests that, in the context of this narrative, speediness is associated with criminal behaviour; and this in turn implies that the Romans’ reluctance to act immediately in a controversial case is to be viewed more favourably. This is endorsed by the use of παραχρῆμα in the relevant passage: Ῥωμαῖοι δὲ πολὺν μὲν χρόνον ἠπόρησαν διὰ τὸ δοκεῖν ἐξόφθαλμον εἶναι τὴν ἀλογίαν τῆς βοηθείας. τὸ γὰρ μικρῷ πρότερον τοὺς ἰδίους πολίτας μετὰ τῆς μεγίστης ἀνῃρηκότας τιμωρίας, ὅτι Ῥηγίνους παρεσπόνδησαν, παραχρῆμα Μαμερτίνοις βοηθεῖν ζητεῖν τοῖς τὰ παραπλήσια πεποιηκόσιν οὐ μόνον εἰς τὴν Μεσσηνίων, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὴν Ῥηγίνων πόλιν, δυσαπολόγητον εἶχε τὴν ἁμαρτίαν. (10.3–4). Conclusion Polybius’ narrative is artfully composed. Both his linguistic choices and his narrative techniques serve his desire to be persuasive. His account of the events from the beginning of Rome’s expansion to the first Roman intervention in Sicily implies that the latter operation has been a historical necessity. This consideration mitigates moral reservations (as in this case Rome intervenes not against – as in Rhegium – but on the side of/in favour of the offenders). The linguistic and narrative devices we have identified in the introductory chapter 6 and in the chapters 7–11 corroborate the estimation that the arrangement and presentation of the historical content in this part of Polybius’ work illustrate the dominance of historical patterns: the narrative is composed in a way that seems to

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put forward the ideas a) that Rome’s expansion was a linear development, and b) that the events in Rhegium and Messana follow a similar historical scheme. Both these ideas, once they are adopted by the reader, produce expectations. From a historical point of view, they suggest a form of historical determinism, which makes human agents less accountable for their actions; external causality prevails over moral choices. Polybius’ narrator not only promotes expectations but also suggests the evaluation of the reported action. The evaluation of the Romans in chapter 6 is bluntly positive and results from a calculated exploitation of narrative forms so as to convey subjective judgement. In chapters 7–11 the principal device which is applied in order to make the reader adopt the author’s stance is focalization. By using various focalizers the narrator first extols the skills and the methods of Hieron as a leader. Thus, the reader “witnesses” that Rome is exposed to perils. Vacillating focalization effectuates a destabilization of identities; as identities are re-negotiated, the Romans are threatened to be treated as barbarians. On the other hand, Hieron can be perceived by the reader as an antagonistic pursuer or power and as a threaten for Rome’s influence. The private story of Hieron’s marriage provides a matrix for the evaluation of his later stratagem by which he extiguishes his mercenaries: Hieron is a selfish opportunist, but he serves his interests in a way that does not offend his city’s interests. The convergence of the narrator’s and Hieron’s point of view facilitates a sympathetic treatment of the Syracusan king. And if Hieron’s success partly relies on the fact that he is indifferent to morality, it follows that the Romans’ own concern with morality should not undermine their ambitions and their historical mission. APPENDIX Plb. 1.8 3χρόνοις οὐ πολλοῖς πρότερον αἱ δυνάμεις τῶν Συρακοσίων διενεχθεῖσαι πρὸς τοὺς ἐν τῇ πόλει καὶ διατρίβουσαι περὶ τὴν Μεργάνην κατέστησαν ἐξ αὑτῶν ἄρχοντας, Ἀρτεμίδωρόν τε καὶ τὸν μετὰ ταῦτα βασιλεύσαντα τῶν Συρακοσίων Ἱέρωνα, νέον μὲν ὄντα κομιδῇ, πρὸς δέ τι γένος εὐφυῆ βασιλικῆς καὶ πραγματικῆς οἰκονομίας. 4ὁ δὲ παραλαβὼν τὴν ἀρχὴν καὶ παρεισελθὼν εἰς τὴν πόλιν διά τινων οἰκείων καὶ κύριος γενόμενος τῶν ἀντιπολιτευομένων οὕτως ἐχρήσατο πρᾴως καὶ μεγαλοψύχως τοῖς πράγμασιν, ὥστε τοὺς Συρακοσίους, καίπερ οὐδαμῶς εὐδοκουμένους ἐπὶ ταῖς τῶν στρατιωτῶν ἀρχαιρεσίαις, τότε πάντας ὁμοθυμαδὸν εὐδοκῆσαι στρατηγὸν αὑτῶν ὑπάρχειν Ἱέρωνα. 5ὃς ἐκ τῶν πρώτων ἐπινοημάτων εὐθέως δῆλος ἦν τοῖς ὀρθῶς σκοπουμένοις μειζόνων ὀρεγόμενος ἐλπίδων ἢ κατὰ τὴν στρατηγίαν. 9 θεωρῶν γὰρ τοὺς Συρακοσίους, ἐπειδὰν ἐκπέμψωσι τὰς δυνάμεις καὶ τοὺς ἄρχοντας μετὰ τῶν δυνάμεων, αὐτοὺς ἐν αὑτοῖς στασιάζοντας καὶ καινοτομοῦντας αἰεί τι, 2τὸν δὲ Λεπτίνην εἰδὼς καὶ τῇ προστασίᾳ καὶ τῇ πίστει πολὺ διαφέροντα τῶν ἄλλων πολιτῶν, εὐδοκιμοῦντα δὲ καὶ παρὰ τῷ πλήθει διαφερόντως, συνάπτεται κηδείαν πρὸς αὐτόν, βουλόμενος οἷον ἐφεδρείαν ἀπολιπεῖν ἐν τῇ πόλει τοῦτον, ὅτ᾽ αὐτὸν ἐξιέναι δέοι μετὰ τῶν δυνάμεων ἐπὶ

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τὰς πράξεις. 3γήμας δὲ τὴν θυγατέρα τοῦ προειρημένου καὶ συνθεωρῶν τοὺς ἀρχαίους μισθοφόρους καχέκτας ὄντας καὶ κινητικοὺς ἐξάγει στρατείαν ὡς ἐπὶ τοὺς βαρβάρους τοὺς τὴν Μεσσήνην κατασχόντας. 4ἀντιστρατοπεδεύσας δὲ περὶ Κεντόριπα καὶ παραταξάμενος περὶ τὸν Κυαμόσωρον ποταμὸν τοὺς μὲν πολιτικοὺς ἱππεῖς καὶ πεζοὺς αὐτὸς ἐν ἀποστήματι συνεῖχεν, ὡς κατ᾽ ἄλλον τόπον τοῖς πολεμίοις συμμίξων, τοὺς δὲ ξένους προβαλόμενος εἴασε πάντας ὑπὸ τῶν βαρβάρων διαφθαρῆναι· 5κατὰ δὲ τὸν τῆς ἐκείνων τροπῆς καιρὸν ἀσφαλῶς αὐτὸς ἀπεχώρησεν μετὰ τῶν πολιτῶν εἰς τὰς Συρακούσας. 6συντελεσάμενος δὲ τὸ προκείμενον πραγματικῶς καὶ παρῃρηκὼς πᾶν τὸ κινητικὸν καὶ στασιῶδες τῆς δυνάμεως, ξενολογήσας δι᾽ αὑτοῦ πλῆθος ἱκανὸν μισθοφόρων, ἀσφαλῶς ἤδη τὰ κατὰ τὴν ἀρχὴν διεξῆγεν. 7θεωρῶν δὲ τοὺς βαρβάρους ἐκ τοῦ προτερήματος θρασέως καὶ προπετῶς ἀναστρεφομένους, καθοπλίσας καὶ γυμνάσας ἐνεργῶς τὰς πολιτικὰς δυνάμεις ἐξῆγεν καὶ συμβάλλει τοῖς πολεμίοις ἐν τῷ Μυλαίῳ πεδίῳ περὶ τὸν Λογγανὸν καλούμενον ποταμόν. 8τροπὴν δὲ ποιήσας αὐτῶν ἰσχυρὰν καὶ τῶν ἡγεμόνων ἐγκρατὴς γενόμενος ζωγρίᾳ τὴν μὲν τῶν βαρβάρων κατέπαυσε τόλμαν, αὐτὸς δὲ παραγενόμενος εἰς τὰς Συρακούσας βασιλεὺς ὑπὸ πάντων προσηγορεύθη τῶν συμμάχων. BIBLIOGRAPHY Allan R. J., History as Presence. Time, tense and narrative modes in Thucydides, in: A. Tsakmakis – M. Tamiolaki (eds.), Thucydides between History and Literature, Berlin 2013, 357–374 Buijs M., Clause Combining in Ancient Greek Narrative Discourse, Leiden 2005 Chafe W., Discourse, Consciousness, and Time, Chicago and London 1994 Champion C. B., Cultural Politics in Polybius, Berkeley – Los Angeles – Boston 2004 Davidson J., The gaze in Polybius’ Histories, in: JRS 81 (1991) 10–24 Eckstein, A. M., Polybius, Syracuse, and the Politics of Accomodation, in: GRBS 26 (1985) 265–82 Eckstein A. M., Moral Vision in the Histories of Polybius, Berkeley – Los Angeles 1995 De Jong I. J. F., Narrative Unity and Units, in: E. J. Bakker, I. J. F. de Jong, H. van Wees (eds.), Brill’s Companion to Herodotus, Leiden 2002, 245–266 Laqueur R., Polybius, Berlin 1913 Marincola J., Greek Historians, Oxford 2001 McGing B., Polybius’ Histories, Oxford 2010 Miltsios N., The Shaping of Narrative in Polybius, Berlin 2013 Miltsios N., The Perils of Expectations: Perceptions, Suspense and Surprise in Polybius’ Histories, in: J. Grethlein – A. Rengakos (eds.), Narratology and Interpretation, Berlin 2009, 481–506 Petzold K. E., Studien zur Methode des Polybios und zu ihrer historischen Auswertung, München 1969 Rood, T., Polybius, in: I. J. F. de Jong – R. Nünlist – A. Bowie (eds.), Narrators, Narratees, and Narratives in Ancient Greek Literature, Leiden 2004, 147–164 Rood T., Polybius, in: I. J. F. de Jong – R. Nünlist (eds.), Time in Ancient Greek Literature, Leiden 2007, 165–181 Rood T., Polybius, in: I. J. F. de Jong (ed.), Space in Ancient Greek Literature, Leiden 2012, 179–197 Smith C. S., Modes of Discourse. The Local Structure of Texts, Cambridge 2003 Smith C. S., The Domain of Tense, in: J. Guéron – J. Decarme (eds.), The Syntax of Time, Cambridge 2004, 597–620 Walbank F., A Historical Commentary on Polybius, vol. 1, Oxford 1957

3 CATILINE AS ATREUS IN CICERO’S FIRST CATILINARIAN Spyridon Tzounakas Abstract In his First Catilinarian Cicero frequently combines the notions of odium and me­ tus in a manner that alludes to the famous lines oderint, / dum metuant of Accius (Acc. Trag. 203–204 R2) and quem metuunt oderunt; quem quisque odit periisse expetit of Ennius (Enn. Trag. 348 Jocelyn). I suggest that in this way the orator highlights the need for Catiline’s execution and attempts an implicit association of his political enemy with Atreus, who is regarded as the stereotype of the tyrant. Since Cicero was well aware of the fact that the argument that those who turned against the state lost their civilian rights has not a valid legal basis but only a moral one, he turns to allusions to poetry which add auctoritas to this thought and confirm his views. Thus, he adroitly implies that the mores of Catiline are efficiently highlighted through his parallel with the persona of Atreus in Roman tragedy that allows the orator to attack the character of his opponent and denigrate his image. From early on in the history of Latin literature, poetry worked its charm most effectively on Latin prose. The influence of the first on the latter is evident in all literary genres, while it is often expressed even with the presence of poetic citations in historiographical, rhetorical or philosophical works.1 Cases of allusion are even more frequent, as it allows the writer to make an implied or indirect reference that invokes some information and calls for associations with only a few words.2 The 1

2

See e.g. I. G. Taifacos, Citazioni poetiche nelle Historiae di Sallustio?, in: Philologus 131, 1987, 265–269; A. Foucher, Historia proxima poetis: L’influence de la poésie épique sur le style des historiens latins de Salluste à Ammien Marcellin, Brussels 2000 (Collection Latomus 255); S. Timpanaro, La tipologia delle citazioni poetiche in Seneca: Alcune considerazioni, in: GIF n.s. 15, 1984, 163–182; A. Setaioli, Seneca e i Greci: Citazioni e traduzioni nelle opere filosofiche, Bologna 1988 (Testi e manuali per l’insegnamento universitario del latino 26), 47–90; H. M. Hine, Poetic Influence on Prose: The Case of the Younger Seneca, in: T. Reinhardt, M. Lapidge, J. N. Adams (eds), Aspects of the Language of Latin Prose, Oxford 2005 (Proceedings of the British Academy 129), 211–237; S. J. Harrison, The Poetics of Fiction: Poetic Influence on the Language of Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, in: T. Reinhardt, M. Lapidge, J. N. Adams (eds), Aspects of the Language of Latin Prose, Oxford 2005 (Proceedings of the British Academy 129), 273–286; D. Dueck, Poetic Citations in Latin Prose Works of Historiography and Biography – I, in: Hermes 137, 2009, 170–189; ead., Poetic Citations in Latin Prose Works of Philosophy – II, in: Hermes 137, 2009, 314–334. Cf. W. Irwin, What Is an Allusion?, in: The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 59, 2001, 287–297.

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present paper focuses on precisely one such example of poetic influence on Cicero’s First Catilinarian, where the orator seems to allude to his previous tragedy aiming to taint his adversary’s image and strengthen his own argumentation. The influence of poetry -and theatre in particular- on Cicero’s thought is indisputable,3 since many relevant citations and allusions are dispersed in his prose works. It goes without saying that poetic quotations or allusions may add auctoritas to an idea and brilliance to a theme.4 However, the expediency of this influence must not be attributed solely to intentions of stylistic embellishment, but also to the reinforcement of a prose-writer’s words with a number of poetic implications. In his rhetorical speeches Cicero seems to be fully aware of the possible advantages provided by poetic quotations or allusions. This has already been highlighted by Quin3

4

Cf. e.g. W. Zillinger, Cicero und die altrömischen Dichter: Eine literarhistorische Untersuchung, Diss. Erlangen, Würzburg 1911; E. Malcovati, Cicerone e la poesia, Pavia 1943 (Annali della Facoltà di Lettere e di Filosofia della Università di Cagliari 13); H. D. Jocelyn, Greek Poetry in Cicero’s Prose Writing, in: YClS 23, 1973, 61–111; D. R. Shackleton Bailey, Cicero and Early Latin Poetry, in: ICS 8, 1983, 239–249; L. Spahlinger, Tulliana simplicitas: Zu Form und Funktion des Zitats in den philosophischen Dialogen Ciceros, Göttingen 2005 (Hypomnemata 159), esp. 223–264 for quotation from Latin and Greek poetry. More particularly on the influence of theatre on Cicero’s prose, cf. e.g. F. W. Wright, Cicero and the Theater, Northampton 1931 (Smith College Classical Studies 11); R. Giomini, Echi di Accio in Cicerone, in: Atti del I Congresso Internazionale di Studi Ciceroniani (Roma, aprile 1959), Rome 1961, Vol. II, 321–331; K. A. Geffcken, Comedy in the Pro Caelio, With an Appendix on the In Clodium et Curionem, Leiden 1973, repr. Wauconda 1995 (Mnemosyne, suppl. 30); J.-C. Dumont, Cicéron et le théâtre, in: Actes du IXe Congrès de l’Association Guillaume Budé (Rome, 13–18 avril 1973), Paris 1975, 424–430; L. Alfonsi, Su un verso tragico, in: Dioniso 47, 1976, 107–109; A. Michel, Cicéron et la tragédie: les citations de poètes dans les livres II–IV des Tusculanes, in: Helmantica 34, 1983, 443–454; P. Cugusi, Una citazione Neviana in Cicerone (Cic. Sest. 97), in: Athenaeum n.s. 65, 1987, 234–237; A. De Rosalia, La fruizione ciceroniana dei testi tragici di Ennio, in: Paideia 45, 1990, 139–174; C. Auvray-Assayas, Relectures philosophiques de la tragédie: les citations tragiques dans l’œuvre de Cicéron, in: Pallas 49, 1998, 269–277; G. Mazzoli, Cicerone, Accio e il sublime, in: Paideia 55, 2000, 231–242; U. Eigler, Cicero und die römische Tragödie. Eine Strategie zur Legitimation philosophischer Literatur im philosophischen Spätwerk Ciceros, in: E. Stärk, G. Vogt-Spira (eds), Dramatische Wäldchen. Festschrift für Eckard Lefèvre zum 65. Geburtstag, Zürich, New York 2000 (Spudasmata 80), 619–636; S. M. Goldberg, Cicero and the Work of Tragedy, in: G. Manuwald (ed.), Identität und Alterität in der frührömischen Tragödie, Würzburg 2000 (Identitäten und Alteritäten 3: Altertumswissenschaftliche Reihe 3), 49–59; V. Bonsangue, Dinamiche di pathos tragico e vis comica nella Pro Sestio di Cicerone, in: Pan 21, 2003, 151–163; G. Aricò, Cicerone e il teatro. Appunti per una rivisitazione della problematica, in: E. Narducci (ed.), Cicerone tra antichi e moderni, Atti del IV Symposium Ciceronianum Arpinas (Arpino, 9 maggio 2003), Florence 2004, 6–37; M. Leigh, The Pro Caelio and Comedy, in: CPh 99, 2004, 300–335; C. Arcidiacono, Le citazioni omeriche nell’opera di Cicerone, in: Sileno 33, 2007, 1–42; B. Harries, Acting the Part: Techniques of the Comic Stage in Cicero’s Early Speeches, in: J. Booth (ed.), Cicero on the Attack: Invective and Subversion in the Orations and Beyond, Swansea 2007, 129–147; I. Gildenhard, Greek Auxiliaries: Tragedy and Philosophy in Ciceronian Invective, in: J. Booth (ed.), Cicero on the Attack: Invective and Subversion in the Orations and Beyond, Swansea 2007, 149–182; id., Creative Eloquence: The Construction of Reality in Cicero’s Speeches, Oxford 2011, esp. 88–92, 104–113, 328–343. See e.g. M. von Albrecht, Cicero’s Style: A Synopsis, Followed by Selected Analytic Studies, Leiden, Boston 2003 (Mnemosyne, suppl. 245), 90–91.

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tilian who notes that the leading orators, and primarily Cicero, turn to the poetry of the veteres, not only in order to adorn their eloquence, exhibit their erudition and, with the sweetness of poetry, relieve the audience from the harshness of forensic language, but also in order to support their arguments, while also noting that the poets’ views allow the orators to ascertain their claims by being used as testimonies.5 Besides, it should not be forgotten that poetry had a significant place in the training of the ancient orator.6 Furthermore, Cicero’s profound interest in theatre and his fascination with the link between ancient oratory and theatre are evident not only in linguistic parallels and verbal similarities between his orations and the language of the Roman playwrights, but also in his attempt to imitate drama and use theatrical conventions in his speeches. Thus, in the case of his forensic speeches, for instance, it has already been noted that in this way he attempts to transform the trial into a stage and to exploit to his advantage the multiple implications of this transformation.7 A similar practice could be investigated in his First Catilinarian, where there are remarkable allusions to tragedy which are effective in facilitating his deeper intentions. For example, Cicero’s exhortations at Catil. 1.10: Quae cum ita sint, Catilina, perge quo coepisti, egredere aliquando ex urbe; patent portae: proficiscere. nimium diu te imperatorem tua illa Manliana castra desiderant. educ tecum etiam omnis tuos, si minus, quam plurimos; purga urbem. magno me metu liberabis, modo inter me atque te murus intersit. nobiscum versari iam diutius non potes; non feram, non patiar, non sinam8 bring to mind Accius’ line Trag. 592 R2 (= 595 W): egredere exi 5

6 7

8

Quint. Inst. 1.8.10–12: denique credamus summis oratoribus, qui veterum poemata vel ad fi­ dem causarum vel ad ornamentum eloquentiae adsumunt. nam praecipue quidem apud Cicero­ nem, frequenter tamen apud Asinium etiam et ceteros qui sunt proximi, videmus Enni Acci Pacuvi Lucili Terenti Caecili et aliorum inseri versus, summa non eruditionis modo gratia sed etiam iucunditatis, cum poeticis voluptatibus aures a forensi asperitate respirant. quibus ac­ cedit non mediocris utilitas, cum sententiis eorum velut quibusdam testimoniis quae proposu­ ere confirment; cf. also G. Garbarino, Verba poetica in prosa nella teoria retorica da Cicerone a Quintiliano, in: MAT 5a Ser. 2, 1978, 141–237. See e.g. H. North, The Use of Poetry in the Training of the Ancient Orator, in: Traditio 8, 1952, 1–33. See especially J. Axer, Tribunal-Stage-Arena: Modelling of the Communication Situation in M. Tullius Cicero’s Judicial Speeches, in: Rhetorica 7, 1989, 299–311, with further bibliography. For theatricalization in Cicero’s rhetorical speeches, cf. also J. Dugan, Making a New Man: Ciceronian Self-Fashioning in the Rhetorical Works, Oxford 2005, 133–147 and J. Hall, Cicero’s Use of Judicial Theater, Ann Arbor 2014, while, more generally, on the relation between oratory and theatre, see recently E. Fantham, Orator and / et Actor, in: P. Easterling, E. Hall (eds), Greek and Roman Actors: Aspects of an Ancient Profession, Cambridge 2002, 362–376. For “Cicero’s view on the role of the theatre and his attitude towards actors as well as men as players”, see L. Winniczuk, Cicero on Actors and the Stage, in: Atti del I Congresso Internazionale di Studi Ciceroniani (Roma, aprile 1959), Rome 1961, Vol. I, 213–222; cf. also more recently G. Petrone and A. Casamento (eds), Lo spettacolo della giustizia: Le orazioni di Cicerone, Palermo 2006 (Leuconoe. L’invenzione dei classici 10) and G. Petrone, Cicerone e lo spettacolo, in: Maia n.s. 59, 2007, 223–237. Cf. also Cic. Catil. 1.13: exire ex urbe iubet consul hostem; 20: egredere ex urbe, Catilina, libera rem publicam metu, in exsilium, si hanc vocem exspectas, proficiscere. All references to Cicero’s First Catilinarian follow the edition of T. Maslowski, M. Tullius Cicero, scripta quae

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ecfer te, elimina urbe! from his Phoenissae, which is based on Euripides’ lines Ph. 593, 614, 636: καὶ σὺ τῶνδ’ ἔξω κομίζου τειχέων … ἔξιθι χθονός … ἔξιθ’ ἐκ χώρας, where Eteocles calls his brother Polyneices to leave the city.9 Here we have an allusion that serves the orator’s aims significantly. Catiline is thus compared implicitly with Polyneices, a man who led the enemy against his own people, while Cicero is compared with Eteocles, the man who attempted to defend his country against this threat led by his own brother. It is worth mentioning that in the Second Catilinarian, delivered the day after the First Catilinarian, the orator characterizes the conspiracy as bellum intestinum ac domesticum post hominum memoriam crudelissimum et maximum.10 Thus an allusion to a mythological example of odia fraterna works effectively within this framework. In the rest of the paper I will focus on another example of allusion to tragedy in the particular oration which is also about conflict between siblings. More specifically, I will try to investigate Cicero’s attempt to allude to the famous lines oderint, / dum metuant of Accius’ Atreus (Acc. Trag. 203–204 R2 = 168 W) and quem metu­ unt oderunt; quem quisque odit periisse expetit of Ennius (Enn. Trag. 348 Jocelyn = 379 R2 = 410 W). Cicero is clearly well aware of these lines, since he cites them elsewhere in his works.11 In his First Catilinarian the two notions of hatred and fear appear in a similar combination. In section 13 the orator states that, with the exception of conspirators, everyone in Rome hates and fears Catiline: in qua nemo est extra istam coniurationem perditorum hominum qui te non metuat, nemo qui non oderit. A similar notion is repeated in section 17, where again the citizens are presented as hating and fearing Catiline, only this time they are joined in the hatred and fear by the country itself who is, after all, the parent of all citizens: servi me hercule

9 10 11

manserunt omnia, Fasc. 17: Orationes in L. Catilinam quattuor, Munich, Leipzig 2003 for Teubner. Cf. Giomini, Echi di Accio in Cicerone, 328–329, with relevant bibliography; I. Mariotti, Tragédie romaine et tragédie grecque: Accius et Euripide, in: MH 22, 1965, 206–216, 214–215; Goldberg, Cicero and the Work of Tragedy, 54 with n. 21; Aricò, Cicerone e il teatro, 33–34. Cic. Catil. 2.28: Atque haec omnia sic agentur ut maximae res minimo motu, pericula summa nullo tumultu, bellum intestinum ac domesticum post hominum memoriam crudelissimum et maximum me uno togato duce et imperatore sedetur. Cf. Cic. Sest. 102: Nollem idem alio loco dixisset, quod exciperent improbi cives, ‘oderint, dum metuant’; praeclara enim illa praecepta dederat iuventuti; Phil. 1.34: Quod videmus etiam in fabula illi ipsi qui ‘Oderint, dum metuant’ dixerit perniciosum fuisse; Off. 1.97: Haec ita in­ tellegi, possumus existimare ex eo decoro, quod poetae sequuntur, de quo alio loco plura dici solent. Sed ut tum servare illud poetas, quod deceat, dicimus, cum id quod quaque persona dignum est, et fit et dicitur, ut si Aeacus aut Minos diceret ‘oderint dum metuant’ aut ‘natis sepulchro ipse est parens’ indecorum videretur, quod eos fuisse iustos accepimus; at Atreo di­ cente plausus excitantur, est enim digna persona oratio; sed poetae quid quemque deceat, ex persona iudicabunt; nobis autem personam imposuit ipsa natura magna cum excellentia prae­ stantiaque animantium reliquarum, for the phrase of Accius, and Off. 2.23: Omnium autem rerum nec aptius est quicquam ad opes tuendas ac tenendas quam diligi nec alienius quam ti­ meri. Praeclare enim Ennius ‘Quem metuunt oderunt; quem quisque odit periisse expetit’. Multorum autem odiis nullas opes posse obsistere, si antea fuit ignotum, nuper est cognitum. Nec vero huius tyranni solum, quem armis oppressa pertulit civitas, [apparet cuius] maxime portui interitus declarat, quantum odium hominum valet ad pestem, sed reliquorum similes exitus tyrannorum, quorum haud fere quisquam talem interitum effugit, for the line of Ennius.

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mei si me isto pacto metuerent ut te metuunt omnes cives tui, domum meam relin­ quendam putarem: tu tibi urbem non arbitraris? et si me meis civibus iniuria su­ spectum tam graviter atque offensum viderem, carere me aspectu civium quam in­ festis omnium oculis conspici mallem: tu, cum conscientia scelerum tuorum agno­ scas odium omnium iustum et iam diu tibi debitum, dubitas quorum mentis sensu­ sque volneras eorum aspectum praesentiamque vitare? si te parentes timerent atque odissent tui neque eos ratione ulla placare posses, ut opinor, ab eorum oculis aliquo concederes. nunc te patria quae communis est parens omnium nostrum odit ac metuit12 et iam diu nihil te iudicat nisi de parricidio suo cogitare: huius tu neque auctoritatem verebere nec iudicium sequere nec vim pertimesces?. This amassment of references to the Romans’ fear and hatred of Catiline should not be restricted to Cicero’s intention to present his political adversary as hated and formidable in order to turn his fellow citizens against him; it could also be interpreted as an implicit intertextual reference to the relevant lines in Accius13 and Ennius. In this framework, the literary image of Atreus and the relevant fabulae seem to play a significant role in the construction of Catiline’s portrayal. Without doubt, Atreus is closely associated with the famous lines oderint, / dum metuant of Accius’ Atreus. The line of Ennius quem metuunt oderunt; quem quisque odit peri­ isse expetit belongs to the unassigned fragments of his tragedies, but it could possibly be attributed to his tragedy Thyestes, which also treats the legend of Atreus.14 By recalling Atreus’ literary image, the orator creates an implicit association between Catiline and this mythological persona thus attempting to underline his political enemy’s ferocity, a trait reinforced by a well-known mythological exemplum. In this way he suggests that, just as Atreus did not hesitate to turn against his brother and slay his children, so Catiline does not hesitate to turn against his compatriots and carry out atrocities. Cicero further reinforces the analogies between the two persons by employing additional similarities. Thus, the references to Catiline’s violent behaviour against his own kin in section 14 make his association with Atreus even clearer, while the characterization of the country as the ‘parent of all citizens’ (17: nunc te patria quae communis est parens omnium nostrum odit ac metuit et iam diu nihil te iudicat nisi de parricidio suo cogitare) allows the orator to present the conflict between Catiline and his compatriots as a conflict between siblings, a comparison further qualified by the allusive use of the phrase odit ac metuit. In addition, it is worth noting that the shadow of Accius’ Atreus is also evident in Cicero’s phrase vigilare non solum insidiantem somno maritorum verum etiam bonis otio­ 12 13 14

For the chiasmus, see A. Haury, Cicero: Orationes in Catilinam (Catilinaires). Édition, introduction et commentaire, Paris 1969 (Collection Érasme 22), 67. The verbal similarity between Accius’ phrase and Cic. Catil. 1.17 is already mentioned by Giomini, Echi di Accio in Cicerone, 326, n. 34, without further comments. Cf. O. Ribbeck, Scaenicae Romanorum Poesis Fragmenta, Vol. I: Tragicorum Romanorum Fragmenta, Leipzig 21871, repr. Hildesheim 1962, ad loc. (p. 71): “Fortasse Atreo haec in Thyeste opponebantur”; P. G. Walsh, Cicero: On Obligations, Translated with an Introduction and Notes, Oxford 2000 (Oxford World’s Classics), 162, who regards the particular phrase of Accius’ Atreus as an echo of Ennius’ Thyestes. For Accius’ phrase as an imitation from Ennius, cf. also W. Beare, The Roman Stage: A Short History of Latin Drama in the Time of the Republic, London 31964, repr. 1968, 121.

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sorum (Cic. Catil. 1.26), which seems to echo the language of another well-known sententia from the particular tragedy: vigilandum est semper: multae insidiae sunt bonis (Acc. Trag. 214 R2). It is a line that is very familiar to Cicero, since he quotes it in his Pro Sestio 102 and Pro Plancio 59. Besides, it should not be forgotten that the First Catilinarian could be regarded as the most famous Ciceronian invective15 and it is worth mentioning that the Cati­ linarians also bear the collective title Invectivae in Catilinam, which is further supported by the testimony of the oldest manuscripts.16 As a result, Cicero’s allusion to the literary image of Atreus should be placed within this framework and interpreted according to the laws of the particular genre. As is known, a political invective aims at insulting the political opponent and usually includes standard invective themes and easily recognizable loci, while “the truth-value of the content of the insult is of only secondary importance, if not completely irrelevant”.17 In this framework, one of the established invective loci is that regarding the political enemy’s aspiring to tyranny or regnum.18 As Christopher Craig has recently noted, although the First Catilinarian is indisputably a magnificent invective, it is relatively sparing in its use of established invective loci, a choice that could be attributed to “the circumstances of the speech and the expectations of Cicero’s audience for the veracity of invective”.19 However, the particular locus of aspiring to tyranny or regnum is conspicuously evident here, as this is the principal theme of the speech. Cicero seems to put special emphasis on highlighting Catiline’s specific aspiration and for this reason he exploits the rhetorical stereotype of the tyrant. The portrait of the tyrant in first century B.C. Roman political invective is associated with four other charges of abuse: vis, crudelitas, superbia, and libido.20 In order to depict Catiline’s behaviour as 15

16 17

18

19 20

For this characterization, see C. Craig, Audience Expectations, Invective, and Proof, in: J. Powell, J. Paterson (eds), Cicero the Advocate, Oxford 2004, 187–213, 191, n. 8; more generally on Ciceronian invective, see also A. Corbeill, Ciceronian Invective, in: J. M. May (ed.), Brill’s Companion to Cicero: Oratory and Rhetoric, Leiden, Boston, Cologne 2002, 197–217; J. Booth (ed.), Cicero on the Attack: Invective and Subversion in the Orations and Beyond, Swansea 2007; V. Arena, Roman Oratorical Invective, in: W. Dominik, J. Hall (eds), A Companion to Roman Rhetoric, Malden, Oxford, Carlton 2007 (Blackwell Companions to the Ancient World), 149–160. Cf. A. S. Wilkins, The Orations of Cicero against Catilina. Edited after Karl Halm, with many Additions, London, New York 1964, xxiv–xxv, n. 56; W. W. Batstone, Cicero’s Construction of Consular Ethos in the First Catilinarian, in: TAPhA 124, 1994, 211–266, 219, n. 19. C. Craig, Self-Restraint, Invective, and Credibility in Cicero’s First Catilinarian Oration, in: AJPh 128, 2007, 335–339, 336. In his article Craig relies on the works of W. Süss, Ethos: Studien zur älteren griechischen Rhetorik, Leipzig 1920, R. G. M. Nisbet, M. Tulli Ciceronis in L. Calpurnium Pisonem Oratio, Oxford 1961, and N. W. Merrill, Cicero and Early Roman Invective, Diss. University of Cincinnati 1975 and identifies a set of seventeen loci in the Greek and Roman invective tradition. On the notion of tyranny in the late Republic, see e.g. J. Béranger, Tyrannus: Notes sur la notion de tyrannie chez les Romains particulièrement à l’époque de César et de Cicéron, in: REL 13, 1935, 85–94; Gildenhard, Creative Eloquence, esp. 85–92, 223–243, 351–372, with relevant bibliography. Craig, Self-Restraint, Invective, and Credibility, 335. On the stereotype of the tyrant in Roman political invective, see especially J. R. Dunkle, The Greek Tyrant and Roman Political Invective of the Late Republic, in: TAPhA 98, 1967, 151–

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fully conformed to the stereotype of tyrannical conduct, the orator places all these characteristically tyrannical vices on his political enemy. Thus, the charges of vis and crudelitas are frequently found in the oration21 and Cicero does not hesitate to underline Catiline’s violence and cruelty even against his own family (1.14: nuper cum morte superioris uxoris novis nuptiis domum vacuefecisses, nonne etiam alio incredibili scelere hoc scelus cumulavisti? quod ego praetermitto et facile patior sileri, ne in hac civitate tanti facinoris immanitas aut exstitisse aut non vindicata esse videatur). In a similar way, the charge of arrogance (superbia), which is defined as “that crucial attitude of arrogance which encourages and strengthens the despot in the assertion of his will contrary to the wishes of his subjects”,22 is evident already from the very exordium of the speech (1.1: Quo usque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra? quam diu etiam furor iste tuus nos eludet? quem ad fi­ nem sese effrenata iactabit audacia? nihilne te nocturnum praesidium Palati, nihil urbis vigiliae, nihil timor populi, nihil concursus bonorum omnium, nihil hic muni­ tissimus habendi senatus locus, nihil horum ora voltusque moverunt?). Catiline’s conformity to the rhetorical stereotype of the tyrant is complemented with the charge of sexual licence (libido), which is especially evident at 1.13: quae libido ab oculis, quod facinus a manibus umquam tuis, quod flagitium a toto corpore afuit? cui tu adulescentulo quem corruptelarum inlecebris inretisses non aut ad audaciam ferrum aut ad libidinem facem praetulisti?.23 Moreover, Cicero’s attempt to highlight Catiline’s aspiration to tyranny is further reinforced by relevant charges, which also point to tyranny, as for example by the orator’s allegation that his political enemy has recruited slaves (Cic. Catil. 1.27: M. Tulli, quid agis? tune eum quem esse hostem comperisti, quem ducem belli futurum vides, quem exspectari impera­

21

22 23

171; id., The Rhetorical Tyrant in Roman Historiography: Sallust, Livy and Tacitus, in: CW 65, 1971–1972, 12–20; Ἰ. Γ. Ταϊφάκος, Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου: Μελετήματα στὴ διαλεκτικὴ τῆς ἑλληνορωμαϊκῆς πολιτικῆς σκέψης, Athens 1995, 111–124, who also notes (117) that later this became a topos in the declamationes; cf. also R. Tabacco, Il tiranno nelle declamazioni di scuola in lingua latina, in: MAT, Serie V, 9, 1985, 1–141. On the depiction of the tyrant in Cicero’s works, see also K. Büchner, Der Tyrann und sein Gegenbild in Ciceros ‚Staat‘, in: id., Studien zur römischen Literatur, Band II: Cicero, Wiesbaden 1962, 116–147; R. Heinze, Ciceros ‘Staat’ als politische Tendenzschrift, in: Hermes 59, 1924, 73–94; M. E. Clark and J. S. Ruebel, Philosophy and Rhetoric in Cicero’s Pro Milone, in: RhM 128, 1985, 57–72, who investigate the Stoic basis of Cicero’s view on tyranny in the Pro Milone. For characteristic examples, cf. e.g. Cic. Catil. 1.2: notat et designat oculis ad caedem unum quemque nostrum; 1.3: Catilinam orbem terrae caede atque incendiis vastare cupientem nos consules perferemus?; 1.6: obliviscere caedis atque incendiorum; 1.11–12: quam diu mihi con­ suli designato, Catilina, insidiatus es, non publico me praesidio sed privata diligentia defendi. cum proximis comitiis consularibus me consulem in campo et competitores tuos interficere voluisti, compressi conatus tuos nefarios amicorum praesidio et copiis nullo tumultu publice concitato. denique, quotienscumque me petisti, per me tibi obstiti, quamquam videbam per­ niciem meam cum magna calamitate rei publicae esse coniunctam. nunc iam aperte rem publi­ cam universam petis; templa deorum immortalium, tecta urbis, vitam omnium civium, Italiam denique totam ad exitium et vastitatem vocas. Dunkle, The Rhetorical Tyrant, 19. Cf. also 1.26: ad huius vitae studium meditati illi sunt qui feruntur labores tui, iacere humi non solum ad obsidendum stuprum verum etiam ad facinus obeundum, vigilare non solum insidian­ tem somno maritorum verum etiam bonis otiosorum.

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torem in castris hostium sentis, auctorem sceleris, principem coniurationis, evocatorem servorum et civium perditorum, exire patiere, ut abs te non emissus ex urbe sed immissus in urbem esse videatur?). The fact that Sallust categorically claims that Catiline refused to recruit the slaves that turned to him24 undermines the historical accuracy of Cicero’s allegation and reinforces the possibility that his information should be interpreted within the context of his intention to depict Catiline as a would-be tyrant. Manumission or recruiting of slaves was already closely associated with tyrannical behaviour in Greek political thought25 and such accusations were commonplaces in the Roman political invective of the Republican period.26 Cicero’s allusion to the literary image of Atreus works efficiently within this context. It is worth noting that the tyrant as a stock character first became familiar in Rome through the Roman adaptations of Greek tragedies,27 which could be regarded as the most decisive factor in introducing him to the Roman political invective of the late Republic.28 Thus, allusions to tragedy-tyrants had a prominent role in suggesting charges of tyranny. Atreus, who appeared in Ennius’ Thyestes and Accius’ Atreus, was Rome’s favourite tragic tyrant, while it is worth mentioning that the earliest extant use of the Greek loan word tyrannus in Latin appears in Accius’ Atreus.29 Accordingly, his famous phrase oderint, dum metuant, which pointed 24

25

26 27 28 29

Sall. Cat. 56.5: interea servitia repudiabat, quoius initio ad eum magnae copiae concurrebant, opibus coniurationis fretus, simul alienum suis rationibus existumans videri causam civium cum servis fugitivis communicavisse. For the slaves involved in the conspiracy, see e.g. K. R. Bradley, Slaves and the Conspiracy of Catiline, in: CPh 73, 1978, 329–336, who notes that some slaves were associated with the conspiracy, but “there is no need to believe that the conspirators called directly on slaves to join the revolution actively at any point” (335); on Cicero’s allegation here that Catiline was an evocator servorum, see also A. R. Dyck, Cicero: Catilinarians, Cambridge 2008 (Cambridge Greek and Latin Classics), 114–115. Cf. e.g. X. HG 7.3.8: καὶ μὴν πῶς οὐκ ἀπροφασίστως τύραννος ἦν, ὃς δούλους μὲν οὐ μόνον ἐλευθέρους ἀλλὰ καὶ πολίτας ἐποίει, ἀπεκτίννυε δὲ καὶ ἐφυγάδευε καὶ χρήματα ἀφῃρεῖτο οὐ τοὺς ἀδικοῦντας, ἀλλ’ οὓς αὐτῷ ἐδόκει;; Arist. Pol. 1315a: οὔτε δούλων ἐλευθέρωσιν ἀνάγκη ποιεῖσθαι τὸν τύραννον οὔτε ὅπλων παραίρεσιν. See S. Tzounakas, Clodius’ Projected Manumission of Slaves in Cicero’s Pro Milone, in: Arctos 40, 2006, 167–174, esp. 170–172. On the tyrant in Greek tragedies, see e.g. D. Lanza, Il tiranno e il suo pubblico, Turin 1977, 95–159. Dunkle, The Greek Tyrant, esp. 153–156; id., The Rhetorical Tyrant, 12–13. See Dunkle, The Greek Tyrant, 154; id., The Rhetorical Tyrant, 13. For Atreus as a fundamental example of tragedy-tyrant, cf. also I. Lana, L’Atreo di Accio e la leggenda di Atreo e Tieste nel teatro tragico romano, in: AAT 93, 1958–1959, 293–385, esp. 312–315; A. La Penna, Atreo e Tieste sulle scene romane (Il tiranno e l’atteggiamento verso il tiranno), in: Studi classici in onore di Quintino Cataudella, Catania 1972, Vol. I, 357–371 (= A. La Penna, Fra teatro, poesia e politica romana, con due scritti sulla cultura classica di oggi, Turin 1979, 127–141); A. di Benedetto Zimbone, L’Atreus di Accio, in: SicGymn 26, 1973, 266–285, esp. 268 and 270– 271; R. M. Christillin, In margine al mito di Atreo e Tieste: Accio Atreus fr. X R2, in: RCCM 20, 1978, 1045–1053; Ἰ. Γ. Ταϊφάκος, Ἀργεῖοι μῦθοι εἰς τὴν ρωμαϊκὴν τραγωδίαν, in: Πρακτικὰ Α΄ Συνεδρίου Ἀργολικῶν Σπουδῶν, Athens 1979, 245–252, 249, 252; V. Messina, Appunti sull’Atreus acciano, in: Dioniso 58, 1988, 53–73; M. Leigh, Varius Rufus, Thyestes and the Appetites of Antony, in: PCPhS 42, 1996, 171–197; G. Aricò, … spirat tra­ gicum (Horace, epist. 2,1,166). Réflexions sur le tragique romain archaïque, in: Pallas 49, 1998, 73–90, 80–81; L. Galli, Dicta tyranni. Verg. Aen. 10.443 e la tragedia latina, in: Prometheus 25,

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to his tyrannical character, became emblematic of tyrannical conduct in general30 and, therefore, was frequently quoted as such. The cases of Seneca31 and Suetonius32 are characteristic examples.33

30

31

32

33

1999, 61–76, esp. 66 ff.; G. Petrone, L’Atreo di Accio e le passioni del potere, in: S. Faller, G. Manuwald (eds), Accius und seine Zeit, Würzburg 2002 (Identitäten und Alteritäten 13: Altertumswissenschaftliche Reihe 3), 245–253; E. Champlin, Agamemnon at Rome: Roman Dynasts and Greek Heroes, in: D. Braund, C. Gill (eds), Myth, History and Culture in Republican Rome. Studies in Honour of T. P. Wiseman, Exeter 2003, 295–319, esp. 306–308; G. Aricò, L’Atreus di Accio e il mito del tiranno. Osservazioni in margine a uno studio di Italo Lana, in: F. Bessone, E. Malaspina (eds), Politica e cultura in Roma antica. Atti dell’incontro di studio in ricordo di Italo Lana (Torino, 16–17 ottobre 2003), Bologna 2005 (Pubblicazioni del Dipartimento di Filologia, Linguistica e Tradizione Classica “Augusto Rostagni” / Università degli Studi di Torino 22), 19–34; E. Narducci, La lunga catena dei misfatti qualche ipotesi a partire da un passo delle Verrinae, in: Prometheus 33, 2007, 34–36, esp. 36; Gildenhard, Greek Auxiliaries, 171–172. For the possible political implications of Accius’ Atreus during the time of the Gracchi, see recently A. J. Boyle, An Introduction to Roman Tragedy, London, New York 2006, 128; Gildenhard, Creative Eloquence, 88. See above, n. 29; cf. also Giomini, Echi di Accio in Cicerone, 326–327, who notes that this phrase “investe tutto il programma del tiranno” (326); O. Zwierlein, Der Schluss der Tragödie ‘Atreus’ des Accius, in: Hermes 111, 1983, 121–125, esp. 121. For the fear and the hatred of the cives as typical characteristics of tyranny in the declamationes, see Tabacco, Il tiranno nelle declamazioni, esp. 47–50. Sen. Dial. 3.20.4: veram ignorantibus magnitudinem, qualis illa dira et abominanda ‘oderint, dum metuant’. Sullano scias saeculo scriptam. Nescio utrum sibi peius optaverit ut odio esset an ut timori. ‘Oderint.’ Occurrit illi futurum ut execrentur insidientur opprimant: quid adiecit? Di illi male faciant, adeo repperit dignum odio remedium. ‘Oderint’–quid? ‘dum pareant’? Non. ‘dum probent’? Non. Quid ergo? ‘dum timeant’; Cl. 1.12.3–4: Sed mox de Sulla, cum quaeremus, quomodo hostibus irascendum sit, utique si in hostile nomen cives et ex eodem corpore abrupti transierint; interim, hoc quod dicebam, clementia efficit, ut magnum inter regem tyrannumque discrimen sit, uterque licet non minus armis valletur; sed alter arma habet, quibus in munimentum pacis utitur, alter, ut magno timore magna odia conpescat, nec illas ipsas manus, quibus se conmisit, securus adspicit. Contrariis in contraria agitur; nam cum invisus sit, quia timetur, timeri vult, quia invisus est, et illo execrabili versu, qui multos praecipites dedit, utitur: ‘Oderint, dum metuant’, ignarus, quanta rabies oriatur, ubi supra modum odia creverunt. Temperatus enim timor cohibet animos, adsiduus vero et acer et ex­ trema admovens in audaciam iacentes excitat et omnia experiri suadet; 2.2.2: praeter id, quod bene factis dictisque tuis quam familiarissimum esse te cupio, ut, quod nunc natura et inpetus est, fiat iudicium, illud mecum considero multas voces magnas, sed detestabiles, in vitam hu­ manam pervenisse celebresque volgo ferri, ut illam: ‘oderint, dum metuant’, quoi Graecus versus similis est, qui se mortuo terram misceri ignibus iubet, et alia huius notae. It is worth noticing that the philosopher characterizes the particular phrase with the adjectives dira et abominanda, execrabili, detestabiles. Suet. Cal. 30.1: tragicum illud subinde iactabat: ‘oderint, dum metuant’; cf. also Suet. Tib. 59.2: quae primo, quasi ab impatientibus remedium ac non tam ex animi sententia quam bile et stomacho fingerentur, volebat accipi dicebatque identidem: ‘oderint, dum probent.’ dein vera plane certaque esse ipse fecit fidem, a passage for which see, e.g., A. J. Woodman, Tiberius and the Taste of Power: The Year 33 in Tacitus, in: CQ n.s. 56, 2006, 175–189, 185. For allusions to this phrase, see, for instance, R. Degl’Innocenti Pierini, Studi su Accio, Florence 1980 (Quaderni dell’Istituto di Filologia Classica “Giorgio Pasquali” dell’Università degli studi di Firenze 1), 11–12, 28–30; C. Monteleone, L’Atreus di Accio e l’atto secondo del Thy­ estes di Seneca, in: Maia n.s. 41, 1989, 99–108, 101–102; J. Dangel, Accius: Oeuvres (frag-

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Cicero is well aware of the implications of this phrase. In his De Officiis (1.97), where he refers to the concept of the fitting (decorum) which is observed by the poets, he underlines that the particular words of Atreus are fitting for his person, because they are in keeping with his character (est enim digna persona oratio), thus suggesting that the particular words illustrate perfectly the cruelty of Atreus’ character and represent his tyrannical behaviour. Similarly, in his Pro Sestio (102) he associates the phrase of Atreus with evil-minded men (improbi cives). The orator exploits more explicitly the associations of these words with tyranny in his First Philippic, another example of Ciceronian political invective, where he attacks Mark Antony’s aspiration to tyranny (Phil. 1.33–34: Illud magis vereor ne ignorans verum iter gloriae gloriosum putes plus te unum posse quam omnis et metui a civi­ bus tuis quam diligi malis. Quod si ita putas, totam ignoras viam gloriae. Carum esse civem, bene de re publica mereri, laudari, coli, diligi gloriosum est; metui vero et in odio esse invidiosum, detestabile, imbecillum, caducum. Quod videmus etiam in fabula illi ipsi qui ‘Oderint, dum metuant’ dixerit perniciosum fuisse).34 By employing the tactic of presenting the accusator as amicus,35 Cicero implies to Mark Antony that a leader is led to glory by the love of his compatriots and not by instilling fear and hatred, a practice that is characterized by the adjectives invidiosum, detestabile, imbecillum, caducum and perniciosum, and is exemplified by the quotation of Accius’ phrase oderint, dum metuant. The same thought appears again at Off. 2.23 (Omnium autem rerum nec aptius est quicquam ad opes tuendas ac tenen­ das quam diligi nec alienius quam timeri. Praeclare enim Ennius ‘Quem metuunt oderunt; quem quisque odit periisse expetit’. Multorum autem odiis nullas opes posse obsistere, si antea fuit ignotum, nuper est cognitum. Nec vero huius tyranni solum, quem armis oppressa pertulit civitas, [apparet cuius] maxime portui interi­ tus declarat, quantum odium hominum valet ad pestem, sed reliquorum similes exi­ tus tyrannorum, quorum haud fere quisquam talem interitum effugit. Malus enim est custos diuturnitatis metus contraque benivolentia fidelis vel ad perpetuitatem), where fear and hatred are also associated with tyrants and this association is illustrated by the quotation of Ennius’ line Quem metuunt oderunt; quem quisque odit periisse expetit. In a similar way, Cicero’s allusion to the tragedy-tyrant Atreus in the First Cati­ linarian exploits the easily recognizable implications of his famous phrase. Thus, although the orator appears friendly and encourages Catiline to stop instilling fear and hatred in the citizens, he implicitly accuses his political enemy of tyrannical behaviour and the desire for tyrannical power,36 while at the same time he presents

34 35 36

ments), Paris 1995, 279. More generally on the influence exercised by Accius’ Atreus, see, e.g., La Penna, Atreo e Tieste, 357–371 (=La Penna, Fra teatro, poesia e politica romana, 127–141); Lana, L’Atreo di Accio, esp. 316–321 and 325–344; Dangel, Accius, 276, with rich bibliography. Cf. Dunkle, The Greek Tyrant, 156, n. 13; Batstone, Cicero’s Construction of Consular Ethos, 247–248; T. Stevenson, Antony as ‘Tyrant’ in Cicero’s First Philippic, in: Ramus 38, 2009, 174–186, esp. 177, 181. On this tactic, see especially C. P. Craig, The Accusator as Amicus: An Original Roman Tactic of Ethical Argumentation, in: TAPhA 111, 1981, 31–37. For a different view, see Batstone, Cicero’s Construction of Consular Ethos, 248, who believes

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Catiline as an impobus civis who disregards the constitutional order and is indifferent to the law. Consequently, the particular allusion facilitates all three types of rhetorical means of persuasion, according to Aristotle’s famous categorization, i.e. logos, ethos and pathos. By highlighting the hatred and the fear that Catiline rouses in the citizens and implying a similarity with Atreus, the stereotype of the tyrant, Cicero supports his assertion that Catiline had plotted a conspiracy against Rome in order to gain tyrannical power, thus strengthening his logical appeal to his audience that Rome should be protected from the impending threat of the conspirators and that Catiline should leave the city. At the same time, this equation also serves Cicero’s ethical appeal. By employing Catiline’s similarity with the stereotype of the tyrant, Cicero aims at undermining Catiline’s ethos and at depicting him as impro­ bus, thus drawing a dividing line between the probi and the improbi, a practice frequently found in his rhetorical speeches.37 As is known, ethos plays a significant role in Cicero’s rhetorical speeches and the orator lays special emphasis on denigrating his opponent’s image and exalting that of his own or his client.38 Finally, without doubt the allusion to the literary image of Atreus serves the orator’s intention to rely on pathos,39 since it enables him to appeal to the emotions of his audience and to try to instill in them a hatred for Catiline, while at the same time rousing their anger for his actions. At the same time, this intertextual connection indirectly facilitates Cicero’s deeper aims. It is well known that in the particular speech the orator suggests Catiline’s exile,40 while he does imply that what would also be desirable would be the conspirator’s execution,41 though he avoids proposing it directly due to insufficient 37

38

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40

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that here Cicero is “mocking the hidden desires of a would-be tyrant”. For Cicero’ technique to isolate the improbi, see especially G. Achard, Pratique rhétorique et idéologie politique dans les discours “optimates” de Cicéron, Leiden 1981 (Mnemosyne, suppl. 68), 110–142. For this technique in the First Catilinarian, see e.g. D. Konstan, Rhetoric and the Crisis of Legitimacy in Cicero’s Catilinarian Orations, in: T. Poulakos (ed.), Rethinking the History of Rhetoric: Multidisciplinary Essays on the Rhetorical Tradition, Boulder, San Francisco, Oxford 1993, 11–30, esp. 12–17, 24, 27. Cf. e.g. J. Wisse, Ethos and Pathos from Aristotle to Cicero, Amsterdam 1989; J. M. May, Trials of Character: The Eloquence of Ciceronian Ethos, Chapel Hill, London 1988; A. M. Riggsby, The Rhetoric of Character in the Roman Courts, in: J. Powell, J. Paterson (eds), Cicero the Advocate, Oxford 2004, 165–185. On pathos in Ancient Rhetoric, see e.g. Wisse, Ethos and Pathos; S. Gastaldi, Il teatro delle passioni. Pathos nella retorica antica, in: Elenchos 16, 1995, 57–82; L. Spina, Passioni d’uditorio (il pathos nell’oratoria), in: Elenchos 16, 1995, 83–100; G. Petrone (ed.), Le passioni della retorica. Atti del convegno di Palermo, 26–27 novembre 2003, Palermo 2004 (Leuconoe. L’invenzione dei classici 6). Cf. Cic. Catil. 1.13: interrogas me, num in exsilium? non iubeo sed, si me consulis, suadeo; 20: egredere ex urbe, Catilina, libera rem publicam metu, in exsilium, si hanc vocem exspectas, proficiscere; 22: tametsi video, si mea voce perterritus ire in exsilium animum induxeris, quanta tempestas invidiae nobis, si minus in praesens tempus recenti memoria scelerum tuo­ rum, at in posteritatem impendeat; 23: recta perge in exsilium: vix feram sermones hominum, si id feceris; vix molem istius invidiae, si in exsilium iussu consulis ieris, sustinebo. Cf. e.g. Cic. Catil. 1.2: ad mortem te, Catilina, duci iussu consulis iam pridem oportebat, in te conferri pestem istam quam tu in nos omnis iam diu machinaris; 5: si te iam, Catilina, compre­ hendi, si interfici iussero, credo, erit verendum mihi ne non potius hoc omnes boni serius a me

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evidence. By means of the allusion to Ennius’ line quem metuunt oderunt; quem quisque odit periisse expetit Cicero’s repeated references to the citizens that hate and fear Catiline serve this aim effectively, as they implicitly remind the audience of the proverbial phrase quem quisque odit periisse expetit. Thus, Cicero’s wish to see his political adversary dead is reinforced by the line of thought that his death is the common desire of all the citizens, as those who are hated by all, are wanted destroyed by all. In other words, Catiline’s execution on the one hand constitutes a universal demand that should be adopted, while on the other it is adorned with the generality and timelessness of a magnificent and sententious phrase. The reference to such a desire on the part of the Roman people is in turn placed within a broader framework. In the whole speech it is evident that the orator goes to great lengths to convince his compatriots of the mildness with which he handled the case of Catiline’s conspiracy,42 as well as to refute accusations against himself concerning brutal and tyrannical behaviour.43 Thus, by highlighting the fear and dread the Roman people feel towards Catiline and by reminding the audience of the apophthegmatic poetic phrase quem quisque odit periisse expetit, Cicero presents the need to liquidate his political adversary as both reasonable and required and, consequently, he presents his own political proposal for Catiline’s exile as mild and lenient.44 Furthermore, by presenting a Roman people who hate and fear Catiline and desire his death, Cicero attempts to avoid sole responsibility for the violent handling of the situation, to minimize his own part in this action, and to disassociate himself from the controversy surrounding it, as he implies that the Senate and the Roman people were also responsible for quelling the conspiracy and that he was carrying out their will and acted with their backing.45 Besides, it should not be forgotten that even the purportedly belated publication of the Catilinarians three years after their delivery is connected by many scholars with Cicero’s desire to protect his person against accusations of harshness and tyrannical behaviour that he foresaw he would face.46 At the same time, it is a known fact that Cicero often reverses the

42 43

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quam quisquam crudelius factum esse dicat. verum ego hoc quod iam pridem factum esse oportuit certa de causa nondum adducor ut faciam. tum denique interficiere, cum iam nemo tam improbus, tam perditus, tam tui similis inveniri poterit qui id non iure factum esse fateatur. Cf. R. G. M. Nisbet, The Speeches, in: T. A. Dorey (ed.), Cicero, London 1964 (Studies in Latin Literature and its Influence), 47–79, 62. Cf. especially Cic. Catil. 1.30: Quamquam non nulli sunt in hoc ordine qui aut ea quae immi­ nent non videant aut ea quae vident dissimulent. qui spem Catilinae mollibus sententiis alu­ erunt coniurationemque nascentem non credendo conroboraverunt. quorum auctoritatem secuti multi non solum improbi verum etiam imperiti, si in hunc animadvertissem, crudeliter et regie factum esse dicerent. nunc intellego, si iste quo intendit, in Manliana castra pervenerit, neminem tam stultum fore qui non videat coniurationem esse factam, neminem tam improbum qui non fateatur. A similar expediency is also evident in the intervention of the personified Patria, for which see S. Tzounakas, The Personified Patria in Cicero’s First Catilinarian: Significance and Inconsistencies, in: Philologus 150, 2006, 222–231. For this practice in Cicero’s orations after his consulship, and especially in those after his exile, see A. Robinson, Avoiding the Responsibility: Cicero and the Suppression of Catiline’s Conspiracy, in: SyllClass 5, 1994, 43–51. However, the view that Cicero published his Catilinarians in 60 B.C. is not unanimously ac-

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accusations against his person by directing them in turn against his political adversaries.47 Thus, it is very likely that Cicero’s emphasis on the accusation against Catiline regarding his aspiration to tyranny or regnum could be interpreted as such a counter-attack to protect the orator’s image. However, the advantages of the equation Catiline=tyrannus via the allusion to the tragedy-tyrant Atreus seem to go even further. As we have seen, despite his proposal for Catiline’s exile, in many passages of the speech Cicero stresses the necessity to liquidate his political adversary. In this way he possibly attempts to justify indirectly the future death penalty of certain conspirators without trial, a fact that later constituted the cause for his own exile. In this framework, Cicero aims at depriving Catiline and his fellow conspirators of the legal protection that accompanied their Roman citizenship, since by their behaviour they have relinquished their rights as (Roman) citizens. The frequent, explicit or implicit, characterization of Catiline as hostis serves this purpose aptly.48 In addition, the frequent references to the slaughters, arson and looting planned by Catiline and the rhetorical exploitation of the motif of urbs capta49 highlight Catiline’s hostility towards the city even

47 48

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cepted. For the discussion on the date of publication and the possible revision of the Catilinar­ ians, see e.g. H. Fuchs, Eine Doppelfassung in Ciceros Catilinarischen Reden, in: Hermes 87, 1959, 463–469; W. C. McDermott, Cicero’s Publication of his Consular Orations, in: Philologus 116, 1972, 277–284; A. Primmer, Historisches und Oratorisches zur ersten Catilinaria, in: Gymnasium 84, 1977, 18–38, 36–38; G. A. Kennedy, A New History of Classical Rhetoric, Princeton, New Jersey 1994, 134–135; J. J. Price, The Failure of Cicero’s First Catilinarian, in: C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History IX, Brussels 1998 (Collection Latomus 244), 106–128, 108–109, n. 10; R. W. Cape, Jr., Cicero’s Consular Speeches, in: J. M. May (ed.), Brill’s Companion to Cicero: Oratory and Rhetoric, Leiden, Boston, Cologne 2002, 113–158, 154; Batstone, Cicero’s Construction of Consular Ethos, 214, n. 7, with the relevant bibliography; Dyck, Cicero: Catilinarians, 10–12. Cf. e.g. Craig, Audience Expectations, Invective, and Proof, 196 for some examples in the case of Clodius and Dunkle, The Greek Tyrant, 166 for an example in the case of Mark Antony, and see Tzounakas, Clodius’ Projected Manumission of Slaves, 171–173. Cic. Catil. 1.5: castra sunt in Italia contra populum Romanum in Etruriae faucibus conlocata, crescit in dies singulos hostium numerus; eorum autem castrorum imperatorem ducemque hostium intra moenia atque adeo in senatu videtis intestinam aliquam cotidie perniciem rei publicae molientem; 13: exire ex urbe iubet consul hostem; 27: tune eum quem esse hostem comperisti, quem ducem belli futurum vides, quem exspectari imperatorem in castris hostium sentis; 33: tu, Iuppiter, qui isdem quibus haec urbs auspiciis a Romulo es constitutus, quem Statorem huius urbis atque imperi vere nominamus, hunc et huius socios a tuis ceterisque tem­ plis, a tectis urbis ac moenibus, a vita fortunisque civium omnium arcebis et homines bonorum inimicos, hostis patriae, latrones Italiae scelerum foedere inter se ac nefaria societate coniunc­ tos aeternis suppliciis vivos mortuosque mactabis; cf. also 3: fuit, fuit ista quondam in hac re publica virtus ut viri fortes acrioribus suppliciis civem perniciosum quam acerbissimum hostem coercerent. For Cicero’s aim in the First Catilinarian to induce his audience to see Catiline as a hostis and thus to deprive him of the legal protection that accompanied his Roman citizenship, see especially A. Vasaly, Representations: Images of the World in Ciceronian Oratory, Berkeley, Los Angeles, Oxford 1993, 51–52; Tzounakas, The Personified Patria in Cicero’s First Catilinarian, 225–226; Dyck, Cicero: Catilinarians, 71, 92, 114. On the multiple exploitations of the term hostis in the times of Cicero, see P. Jal, Hostis (publicus) dans la littérature de la fin de la République, in: REA 65, 1963, 53–79. See especially Cic. Catil. 1.12: nunc iam aperte rem publicam universam petis; templa deorum

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more and effectively reinforce his portrayal as hostis. According to Price,50 hostis is “a legal and political definition which would permit immediate, violent suppression”. Thus, by underlining the antinational nature of the conspiracy, Cicero aims to convince the Senate that Catiline must not be treated as a Roman citizen, but as a hostis patriae. In this way he implies that the laws which provide for the death penalty of Roman citizens must not be upheld in the case of Catiline and his fellow conspirators, because by their antinational action they have cut themselves off from the community and have consequently lost their civilian rights. The same purpose is also served by the implicit depiction of Catiline as tyran­ nus, which allows Cicero to suggest that with his tyrannical behaviour Catiline has cut himself off from the society. This suggestion enables Cicero to interpret the murder of the conspirators as tyrannicide and thus justifiable. The case of the Pro Milone could elucidate this tactic.51 There, Cicero attempts to justify Milo’s murder of Clodius by elevating Milo to the status of tyrannoktonos.52 Clark and Rueber have sufficiently proved that Cicero’s theory of tyrannicide in his philosophical works (especially in his De Officiis 3.19–32) has not only a Platonic but also a characteristically Stoic basis, according to which for “the man acting in obedience to the naturae ratio …, tyrannicide is the ultimate ethical decision …, and …, as such, it falls into the category of the Stoic προηγμένα” (60); thus, “not only can homicide be ethically supported as a good (honestum necare), but there is even a mandate to remove the tyrant from society” (61). “The tyrant … is only in figura hominis” (61). He “is something less than human: he does not belong to civilized society, so that his murder involves no greater ethical conflict than the killing of any other beast” (62). In this framework, Cicero’s portrayal of Clodius with the characteristics of the tyrant in his published Pro Milone suggests that “Clodius and his wildness do not belong to a civilized society; indeed, such behavior can destroy society itself” (63); consequently, since “Clodius has disrupted the normal societas of Rome by his wanton recourse to vis, and has intimidated good and decent citizens, robbing them of their natural and civil rights” (64), he has lost the legal protection that accompanied his Roman citizenship and thus not only is his assassination justified, but also it constitutes a benefit to the state.53 In a similar tactic, the implicit depiction of Catiline as a tyrant through his equation with Atreus provides a plausible justification of the violent action against

50 51 52 53

immortalium, tecta urbis, vitam omnium civium, Italiam denique totam ad exitium et vastitatem vocas and 29: an, cum bello vastabitur Italia, vexabuntur urbes, tecta ardebunt, tum te non existimas invidiae incendio conflagraturum?; cf. also 3 and 6. Price, The Failure of Cicero’s First Catilinarian, 119, who cites (n. 37) J. Hellegouarc’h, Le vocabulaire latin des relations et des partis politiques sous la République, Paris 1963, 188–189. More generally, for similarities between the Pro Milone and the Catilinarians, see recently A. Melchior, Twinned Fortunes and the Publication of Cicero’s Pro Milone, in: CPh 103, 2008, 282–297, 287 ff. See especially Clark and Ruebel, Philosophy and Rhetoric in Cicero’s Pro Milone, 57–72; T. Nótári, Notwehr oder Tyrannenmord? Tatbestandsbehandlung und forensische Taktik in Ciceros Pro Milone, in: RIDA 57, 2010, 331–357. Cf. also S. Tzounakas, Transforming the Trial into a Battle: Military Language in the Exordium of Cicero’s Pro Milone, in: Eos 94, 2007, 65–80, esp. 77.

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his conspiracy. Although in the time of his Catilinarians Cicero has not yet fully developed this philosophical interpretation of tyranny that appears in the Pro Mi­ lone,54 he undoubtedly exploits the traditional Roman defence of dignitas by violence. The historical exempla he employs in sections 3–4 and 29 remind the audience of this tradition. Accordingly, the portrayal of Catiline with tyrannical characteristics allows the orator to force his political adversary beyond the constitutional order. At the same time this intention of his is further facilitated by the suggestions of unnatural lust and violence against his family, other typical characteristics of a tyrant, which place Catiline and his band beyond civilization.55 In this way he intends to deprive Catiline and his fellows of their rights and the legal protection of the uncondemned Roman people and thus to justify their execution. However, since Cicero was well aware of the fact that the argument that those who turned against the state lost their civilian rights has not a valid legal basis but only a moral one,56 he turns to allusions to poetry which add auctoritas to this thought and confirm his views. The familiarity with the story of Atreus on the part of Cicero’s audience and the profound influence on public morals exercised by the great Latin dramatists57 reinforce the effectiveness of his allusions. There are many cases where Cicero explicitly admits the moral value of poetry and underlines its similarity with daily life. In his Pro Roscio Amerino, for example, he has noted: Etenim haec conficta arbitror esse a poetis ut effictos nostros mores in alienis personis expressamque imaginem vitae cotidianae videremus (47).58 Thus, in his First Catilinarian he adroitly implies that the mores of Catiline are efficiently highlighted through his parallel with the persona of Atreus in Roman tragedy that allows the orator to attack the character of his opponent and denigrate his image. Consequently, the clever rhetorical exploitation of the multiple advantages of poetry in the particular oration demonstrates that the famous statement studiose equidem utor nostris poetis that occurs in his Tusculan Disputations59 could apply to his rhetorical speeches as well. 54 55 56 57 58 59

According to Clark and Ruebel, Philosophy and Rhetoric in Cicero’s Pro Milone, esp. 57–58, Cicero developed this philosophical interpretation of tyranny after the trial of Milo (52 B.C.). Cf. Konstan, Rhetoric and the Crisis of Legitimacy, 29, n. 5, who notes that the purpose of Cicero’s emphasis on the personal depravity of Catiline “is to place Catiline and his band beyond civilization by suggestions of unnatural lust and violence against the family”. See H. E. Gould and J. L. Whiteley, Cicero, In Catilinam I & II. Edited with Introduction, Notes and Vocabulary, Bristol 1982, 65–66; cf. also Konstan, Rhetoric and the Crisis of Legitimacy, esp. 20 ff.; Tzounakas, The Personified Patria in Cicero’s First Catilinarian, 226. Cf. e.g. Wright, Cicero and the Theater, 33 and 78. Cf. also Cic. Planc. 59: Nonne, quae scripsit gravis et ingeniosus poeta, scripsit non ut illos regios pueros qui iam nusquam erant, sed ut nos et nostros liberos ad laborem et ad laudem excitaret? Cic. Tusc. 2.26: itaque postquam adamavi hanc quasi senilem declamationem, studiose equidem utor nostris poetis. For Cicero’s interest in poetry, cf. also his statement at Cic. Sest. 123: Et quoniam huc me provexit oratio, histrio casum meum totiens conlacrimavit, cum ita dolenter ageret causam meam ut vox eius illa praeclara lacrimis impediretur; neque poetae, quorum ego semper ingenia dilexi, tempori meo defuerunt; eaque populus Romanus non solum plausu sed etiam gemitu suo comprobavit.

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Craig C., Audience Expectations, Invective, and Proof, in: J. Powell, J. Paterson (eds), Cicero the Advocate, Oxford 2004, 187–213 Craig C., Self-Restraint, Invective, and Credibility in Cicero’s First Catilinarian Oration, in: AJPh 128, 2007, 335–339 Cugusi P., Una citazione Neviana in Cicerone (Cic. Sest. 97), in: Athenaeum n.s. 65, 1987, 234–237 Dangel J., Accius: Oeuvres (fragments), Paris 1995 De Rosalia A., La fruizione ciceroniana dei testi tragici di Ennio, in: Paideia 45, 1990, 139–174 Degl’Innocenti Pierini R., Studi su Accio, Florence 1980 (Quaderni dell’Istituto di Filologia Classica “Giorgio Pasquali” dell’Università degli studi di Firenze 1) Di Benedetto Zimbone A., L’Atreus di Accio, in: SicGymn 26, 1973, 266–285 Dueck D., Poetic Citations in Latin Prose Works of Historiography and Biography – I, in: Hermes 137, 2009, 170–189 Dueck D., Poetic Citations in Latin Prose Works of Philosophy – II, in: Hermes 137, 2009, 314–334 Dugan J., Making a New Man: Ciceronian Self-Fashioning in the Rhetorical Works, Oxford 2005 Dumont J.-C., Cicéron et le théâtre, in: Actes du IXe Congrès de l’Association Guillaume Budé (Rome, 13–18 avril 1973), Paris 1975, 424–430 Dunkle J. R., The Greek Tyrant and Roman Political Invective of the Late Republic, in: TAPhA 98, 1967, 151–171 Dunkle J. R., The Rhetorical Tyrant in Roman Historiography: Sallust, Livy and Tacitus, in: CW 65, 1971–1972, 12–20 Dyck A. R., Cicero: Catilinarians, Cambridge 2008 (Cambridge Greek and Latin Classics) Eigler U., Cicero und die römische Tragödie. Eine Strategie zur Legitimation philosophischer Literatur im philosophischen Spätwerk Ciceros, in: E. Stärk, G. Vogt-Spira (eds), Dramatische Wäldchen. Festschrift für Eckard Lefèvre zum 65. Geburtstag, Zürich, New York 2000 (Spudasmata 80), 619–636 Fantham E., Orator and / et Actor, in: P. Easterling, E. Hall (eds), Greek and Roman Actors: Aspects of an Ancient Profession, Cambridge 2002, 362–376 Foucher A., Historia proxima poetis: L’influence de la poésie épique sur le style des historiens latins de Salluste à Ammien Marcellin, Brussels 2000 (Collection Latomus 255) Fuchs H., Eine Doppelfassung in Ciceros Catilinarischen Reden, in: Hermes 87, 1959, 463–469 Galli L., Dicta tyranni. Verg. Aen. 10.443 e la tragedia latina, in: Prometheus 25, 1999, 61–76 Garbarino G., Verba poetica in prosa nella teoria retorica da Cicerone a Quintiliano, in: MAT 5a Ser. 2, 1978, 141–237 Gastaldi S., Il teatro delle passioni. Pathos nella retorica antica, in: Elenchos 16, 1995, 57–82 Geffcken K. A., Comedy in the Pro Caelio, With an Appendix on the In Clodium et Curionem, Leiden 1973, repr. Wauconda 1995 (Mnemosyne, suppl. 30) Gildenhard I., Greek Auxiliaries: Tragedy and Philosophy in Ciceronian Invective, in: J. Booth (ed.), Cicero on the Attack: Invective and Subversion in the Orations and Beyond, Swansea 2007, 149–182 Gildenhard I., Creative Eloquence: The Construction of Reality in Cicero’s Speeches, Oxford 2011. Giomini R., Echi di Accio in Cicerone, in: Atti del I Congresso Internazionale di Studi Ciceroniani (Roma, aprile 1959), Rome 1961, Vol. II, 321–331 Goldberg S. M., Cicero and the Work of Tragedy, in: G. Manuwald (ed.), Identität und Alterität in der frührömischen Tragödie, Würzburg 2000 (Identitäten und Alteritäten 3: Altertumswissenschaftliche Reihe 3), 49–59 Gould H. E. and Whiteley J. L., Cicero, In Catilinam I & II. Edited with Introduction, Notes and Vocabulary, Bristol 1982 Hall J., Cicero’s Use of Judicial Theater, Ann Arber 2014 Harries B., Acting the Part: Techniques of the Comic Stage in Cicero’s Early Speeches, in: J. Booth (ed.), Cicero on the Attack: Invective and Subversion in the Orations and Beyond, Swansea 2007, 129–147 Harrison S. J., The Poetics of Fiction: Poetic Influence on the Language of Apuleius’ Metamorpho­

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ses, in: T. Reinhardt, M. Lapidge, J. N. Adams (eds), Aspects of the Language of Latin Prose, Oxford 2005 (Proceedings of the British Academy 129), 273–286 Haury A., Cicero: Orationes in Catilinam (Catilinaires). Édition, introduction et commentaire, Paris 1969 (Collection Érasme 22) Heinze R., Ciceros ‘Staat’ als politische Tendenzschrift, in: Hermes 59, 1924, 73–94 Hellegouarc’h J., Le vocabulaire latin des relations et des partis politiques sous la République, Paris 1963 Hine H. M., Poetic Influence on Prose: The Case of the Younger Seneca, in: T. Reinhardt, M. Lapidge, J. N. Adams (eds), Aspects of the Language of Latin Prose, Oxford 2005 (Proceedings of the British Academy 129), 211–237 Irwin W., What Is an Allusion?, in: The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 59, 2001, 287–297 Jal P., Hostis (publicus) dans la littérature de la fin de la République, in: REA 65, 1963, 53–79 Jocelyn H. D., Greek Poetry in Cicero’s Prose Writing, in: YClS 23, 1973, 61–111 Kennedy G. A., A New History of Classical Rhetoric, Princeton, New Jersey 1994 Konstan D., Rhetoric and the Crisis of Legitimacy in Cicero’s Catilinarian Orations, in: T. Poulakos (ed.), Rethinking the History of Rhetoric: Multidisciplinary Essays on the Rhetorical Tradition, Boulder, San Francisco, Oxford 1993, 11–30 La Penna A., Atreo e Tieste sulle scene romane (Il tiranno e l’atteggiamento verso il tiranno), in: Studi classici in onore di Quintino Cataudella, Catania 1972, Vol. I, 357–371 (=La Penna A., Fra teatro, poesia e politica romana, con due scritti sulla cultura classica di oggi, Turin 1979, 127–141) Lana I., L’Atreo di Accio e la leggenda di Atreo e Tieste nel teatro tragico romano, in: AAT 93, 1958–1959, 293–385 Lanza D., Il tiranno e il suo pubblico, Turin 1977 Leigh M., Varius Rufus, Thyestes and the Appetites of Antony, in: PCPhS 42, 1996, 171–197 Leigh M., The Pro Caelio and Comedy, in: CPh 99, 2004, 300–335 Malcovati E., Cicerone e la poesia, Pavia 1943 (Annali della Facoltà di Lettere e di Filosofia della Università di Cagliari 13) Mariotti I., Tragédie romaine et tragédie grecque: Accius et Euripide, in: MH 22, 1965, 206–216 Maslowski T., M. Tullius Cicero, scripta quae manserunt omnia, Fasc. 17: Orationes in L. Catilinam quattuor, Munich, Leipzig 2003 May J. M., Trials of Character: The Eloquence of Ciceronian Ethos, Chapel Hill, London 1988 Mazzoli G., Cicerone, Accio e il sublime, in: Paideia 55, 2000, 231–242 McDermott W. C., Cicero’s Publication of his Consular Orations, in: Philologus 116, 1972, 277–284 Melchior A., Twinned Fortunes and the Publication of Cicero’s Pro Milone, in: CPh 103, 2008, 282–297 Merrill N. W., Cicero and Early Roman Invective, Diss. University of Cincinnati 1975 Messina V., Appunti sull’Atreus acciano, in: Dioniso 58, 1988, 53–73 Michel A., Cicéron et la tragédie: les citations de poètes dans les livres II–IV des Tusculanes, in: Helmantica 34, 1983, 443–454 Monteleone C., L’Atreus di Accio e l’atto secondo del Thyestes di Seneca, in: Maia n.s. 41, 1989, 99–108 Narducci E., La lunga catena dei misfatti qualche ipotesi a partire da un passo delle Verrinae, in: Prometheus 33, 2007, 34–36 Nisbet R. G. M., M. Tulli Ciceronis in L. Calpurnium Pisonem Oratio, Oxford 1961 Nisbet R. G. M., The Speeches, in: T. A. Dorey (ed.), Cicero, London 1964 (Studies in Latin Literature and its Influence), 47–79 North H., The Use of Poetry in the Training of the Ancient Orator, in: Traditio 8, 1952, 1–33 Nótári T., Notwehr oder Tyrannenmord? Tatbestandsbehandlung und forensische Taktik in Ciceros Pro Milone, in: RIDA 57, 2010, 331–357 Petrone G., L’Atreo di Accio e le passioni del potere, in: S. Faller, G. Manuwald (eds), Accius und seine Zeit, Würzburg 2002 (Identitäten und Alteritäten 13: Altertumswissenschaftliche Reihe 3), 245–253

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Petrone G. (ed.), Le passioni della retorica. Atti del convegno di Palermo, 26–27 novembre 2003, Palermo 2004 (Leuconoe. L’invenzione dei classici 6) Petrone G. and Casamento A. (eds), Lo spettacolo della giustizia: Le orazioni di Cicerone, Palermo 2006 (Leuconoe. L’invenzione dei classici 10) Petrone G., Cicerone e lo spettacolo, in: Maia n.s. 59, 2007, 223–237 Price J. J., The Failure of Cicero’s First Catilinarian, in: C. Deroux (ed.), Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History IX, Brussels 1998 (Collection Latomus 244), 106–128 Primmer A., Historisches und Oratorisches zur ersten Catilinaria, in: Gymnasium 84, 1977, 18–38 Ribbeck O., Scaenicae Romanorum Poesis Fragmenta, Vol. I: Tragicorum Romanorum Fragmenta, Leipzig 21871, repr. Hildesheim 1962 Riggsby A. M., The Rhetoric of Character in the Roman Courts, in: J. Powell, J. Paterson (eds), Cicero the Advocate, Oxford 2004, 165–185 Robinson A., Avoiding the Responsibility: Cicero and the Suppression of Catiline’s Conspiracy, in: SyllClass 5, 1994, 43–51 Setaioli A., Seneca e i Greci: Citazioni e traduzioni nelle opere filosofiche, Bologna 1988 (Testi e manuali per l’insegnamento universitario del latino 26) Shackleton Bailey D. R., Cicero and Early Latin Poetry, in: ICS 8, 1983, 239–249 Spahlinger L., Tulliana simplicitas: Zu Form und Funktion des Zitats in den philosophischen Dialogen Ciceros, Göttingen 2005 (Hypomnemata 159) Spina L., Passioni d’uditorio (il pathos nell’oratoria), in: Elenchos 16, 1995, 83–100 Stevenson T., Antony as ‘Tyrant’ in Cicero’s First Philippic, in: Ramus 38, 2009, 174–186 Süss W., Ethos: Studien zur älteren griechischen Rhetorik, Leipzig 1920 Tabacco R., Il tiranno nelle declamazioni di scuola in lingua latina, in: MAT, Serie V, 9, 1985, 1–141 Ταϊφάκος Ἰ. Γ., Ἀργεῖοι μῦθοι εἰς τὴν ρωμαϊκὴν τραγωδίαν, in: Πρακτικὰ Α΄ Συνεδρίου Ἀργολικῶν Σπουδῶν, Athens 1979, 245–252 Taifacos I. G., Citazioni poetiche nelle Historiae di Sallustio?, in: Philologus 131, 1987, 265–269 Ταϊφάκος Ἰ. Γ., Φαντασία πολιτείας ἰσονόμου: Μελετήματα στὴ διαλεκτικὴ τῆς ἑλληνορωμαϊκῆς πολιτικῆς σκέψης, Athens 1995 Timpanaro S., La tipologia delle citazioni poetiche in Seneca: Alcune considerazioni, in: GIF n.s. 15, 1984, 163–182 Tzounakas S., Clodius’ Projected Manumission of Slaves in Cicero’s Pro Milone, in: Arctos 40, 2006, 167–174 Tzounakas S., The Personified Patria in Cicero’s First Catilinarian: Significance and Inconsistencies, in: Philologus 150, 2006, 222–231 Tzounakas S., Transforming the Trial into a Battle: Military Language in the Exordium of Cicero’s Pro Milone, in: Eos 94, 2007, 65–80 Vasaly A., Representations: Images of the World in Ciceronian Oratory, Berkeley, Los Angeles, Oxford 1993 Walsh P. G., Cicero: On Obligations, Translated with an Introduction and Notes, Oxford 2000 (Oxford World’s Classics) Wilkins A. S., The Orations of Cicero against Catilina. Edited after Karl Halm, with many Additions, London, New York 1964 Winniczuk L., Cicero on Actors and the Stage, in: Atti del I Congresso Internazionale di Studi Ciceroniani (Roma, aprile 1959), Rome 1961, Vol. I, 213–222 Wisse J., Ethos and Pathos from Aristotle to Cicero, Amsterdam 1989 Woodman A. J., Tiberius and the Taste of Power: The Year 33 in Tacitus, in: CQ n.s. 56, 2006, 175–189 Wright F. W., Cicero and the Theater, Northampton 1931 (Smith College Classical Studies 11) Zillinger W., Cicero und die altrömischen Dichter: Eine literarhistorische Untersuchung, Diss. Erlangen, Würzburg 1911 Zwierlein O., Der Schluss der Tragödie ‘Atreus’ des Accius, in: Hermes 111, 1983, 121–125

4 SOME OBSERVATIONS ON VIRTUTES AND VITIA IN CAESAR’S BELLA Carl Joachim Classen † Abstract Caesar is among our most important sources for the values that shaped the moral outlook of the Romans in early times. In this paper, I discuss a number of ethical concepts appearing in his two Bella: pudor, religio, fides, pietas, scelus, constantia, honestas, turpitudo, continentia, aequitas, iniquitas, iustitia, iniuria, temperantia, luxuria, fortitudo, virtus, prudentia, temeritas. The discussion not only brings out values that had a capital significance in the life of the Romans; it also sheds light on Caesar’s own standards for the moral assessment of people and events. Anyone who tries to find out what the Romans in early times thought about virtues and vices, virtutes and vitia, is confronted with considerable difficulties. The earliest works of literature, the comedies of Plautus and Terence, are based on Greek models or at least are influenced by Greek ideas and concepts to such an extent that their use as sources of typical Roman morality is very limited. Some specific terms are found on coins, and others in funeral inscriptions. Moreover, the elder Pliny attests a funeral speech given in 221 B.C. by Q. Caecilius Metellus in honour of his father, which allows us to assume that on such occasions both particular virtues and a more comprehensive moral ideal were the objects of praise.1 Thus, it is the speeches of Cicero and of Caesar’s two bella that we must turn to, in order to get answers to such questions as which were the virtutes most highly valued and which were the attitudes and kinds of actions most often sought after. For these speeches are the earliest literary works that have been preserved in full. In a well known section of his second Catilinarian speech (11.25) Cicero contrasts seven virtutes and vitia:2 pudor/petulantia; pudicitia/stuprum; fides/frauda1

2

On coins see C. J. C., Virtutes Romanorum nach dem Zeugnis der Münzen republikanischer Zeit, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Römische Abteilung 93, 1986, 257–279, revised version in: C. J. C, Die Welt der Römer. Studien zu ihrer Literatur, Geschichte und Religion, Berlin 1993, 39–61; on some funeral inscriptions see C. J. C., Virtutes Romanorum. Römische Tradition und griechischer Einfluß, Gymnasium 95, 1988, 289–302, revised version in: C. J. C., Zur Literatur und Gesellschaft der Römer, Stuttgart 1998, 243–254), on Metelllus speech see also C. J. C., Aretai und Virtutes. Untersuchungen zu den Wertvorstellungen der Griechen und Römer, Berlin 2010, 202–203. Vitium refers only twice to human actions in Caesar’s works: b.c. III 57, 2 (fault of some delegates of Caesar); b.c. III 72, 4 (the Pompeians did not consider “how often an army has been unsuccessful either through the misconduct of the general or the oversight of a tribune” (b.c. III 72, 4: quotiens vel ducis vitio vel culpa tribuni in exercitu esset offensum) – one of Caesar’s

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tio; pietas/scelus; constantia/furor; honestas/turpitudo; continentia/libido. He then adds a group of four to which the Greeks had given special prominence, the socalled cardinal virtues: courage, justice, modesty and wisdom. These were introduced to Rome by the Stoics and the rhetoricians.3 Finally, he mentions another four virtues referring to prosperity and sound judgement. As these qualities obviously appeared to Cicero to be the commonest in his time, I shall ask here which rôle they play in Caesar’s writings, if any. Pudicitia is never used by Caesar nor petulantia or stuprum, while pudor occurs four times. In the first book of the bellum Gallicum we have the famous scene of the young military tribunes, who had followed Caesar without military experience, but merely amicitiae causa. When confronted with the possibility of an actual fight against Ariovistus, they started looking for an excuse to absent themselves; non­ nulli, Caesar adds, pudore adducti ut timoris suspicionem vitarent, remanebant (“Some were compelled by very shame to stay, to avoid the suspicion of cowardice”: I 39, 3). And in the next chapter Caesar takes up the word again in reproducing a speech of his own in which he announces proxima nocte … castra moturum, ut … intellegere posset, utrum apud eos pudor atque officium an timor plus valeret (“that he would break camp the next night, in order … to perceive at once whether honour and duty, or cowardice, prevail in their minds”: I 40, 14).4 Pudor is used here obviously in the sense of shame, as this is felt among the members of a peer group and especially among soldiers or fighters who try to live up to certain standards. It is a concept known from the Homeric poems onwards.5 In the same sense the word is used by Caesar in the first book of his bellum civile, where Petreius and Afranius and their followers argue about the best time for an attack on Caesar; some are against an attack at night, urging that “soldiers in a civil war are in the habit to consult more their fears than their loyalty (religio). But daylight in itself brings a sense of shame when all are looking on, and the presence of military tribunes and centurions also contributes much.”6 In the second book it is Curio who argues in exactly the same way: “For the honourable ought not to suspect that they are insufficently trusted, nor the dishonest know that they are feared” (b.c. II 31, 4: nam neque pu­ dentes suspicari oportet sibi parum credi neque improbos scire sese timeri); and he insinuates further down that his opponents prefer an action at night “so that, I suppose, those who are striving to do wrong may have a fairer opportunity; For misdeeds of this kind are kept in check either by shame or by fear, and to such checks night is in the highest degree unfavourable” (b.c. II 31, 7: quo maiorem, credo, li­ centiam habeant, qui peccare conentur; namque huiusmodi res aut pudore aut metu

3 4 5 6

typical general remarks). In translating passages of the Bellum Gallicum and Bellum civile I depend heavily on the translations by H. J. Edwards and A. G. Peskett respectively. See Auct. Her. III 3; Cic. inv. II 159. Timor (“fear, cowardice”), like virtus (“courage”), occurs very frequently in Caesar’s works. As the range of the meanings of the two terms is limited, a detailed discussion of all relevant passages was deemed unnecessary. C. J. C., Vorbilder – Werte – Normen in den homerischen Epen, Berlin 2008, 167. quod … miles in civili dissensione timori magis quam religioni consulere consuerit. at luce multum per se pudorem omnium oculis, multum etiam tribunorum militum et centurionum praesentiam adferre (b.c. I 67, 3–4).

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tenentur, quibus rebus nox maxime adversaria est). In the third book, in his account of the conduct, or rather misconduct, of the sons of the Allobrogian Adbucillus, Caesar assumes that they decided to break away from him out of a sense of shame (quo pudore adducti), and summarises the various factors that contributed to their decision: their wrong-doing “brought on them great obloquy and contempt in the sight of all, and they understood that this was so not merely from the reproaches of others but also from the judgement of their intimates and from their own conscience” (b.c. III 60, 2–3: magnam … haec res illis offensionem et contemptionem ad omnes adtulit, idque ita esse cum ex aliorum obiectationibus tum etiam ex do­ mestico iudicio atque animi conscientia intellegebant). Here, Caesar’s detailed description helps to see most clearly the various factors which play a rôle in the creation of the feeling of shame.7 As religio (in the sense of “loyalty”) is used in one of the passages cited above, I shall briefly turn to this concept. Towards the end of the first book of his bellum civile Caesar describes Petreius’ activities to renew and strengthen his followers’ loyalty by making them swear again; and he sums up “Thus the terror employed by the generals, the cruelty of the punishments, the obligation (religio) of their fresh oath, removed all prospect of present surrender”.8 Later, in the second book, Curio encourages his soldiers to stay with Caesar, claiming that Domitius had deserted them and they were no longer bound by their oath: “Left is a new obligation (reli­ gio), that you should disregard the oath, by which you are at present bound and look back to that which has been cancelled by the surrender of your general and his civil degradation.”9 In the third book religio occurs twice: the first occurrence refers to the loyalty created through an oath,10 and the second is associated with a promise (iusiurandum), which Otacilius had given to soldiers to persuade them to surrender themselves, but which he subsequently broke.11 In the more general sense of “obligation” rather than “loyalty”, Caesar uses the word in describing the terms of a proposed reconciliation between himself and Pompey and stressing that he considers the terms unfair, since Pompey “appeared not to be bound by any obligation (religione) against the possible use of a falsehood”.12 7

8 9 10

11 12

The verb pudeo occurs not only in b.c. II 31, 4, but also in b.G VII 42, 4 in a description of the Aeduans, who on the basis of some rumours allow themselves to be carried away to brutal atrocities against the Romans, to the extent “that having committed the crimes they felt ashamed to return to propriety” (ut facinore admisso ad sanitatem reverti pudeat). sic terror oblatus ducibus, crudelitas in supplicio, nova religio iurisiurandi spem praesentis deditionis sustulit (b.c. I 76, 5). relinquitur nova religio, ut eo neglecto sacramento, quo tenemini, respiciatis illud, quod deditione ducis et capitis deminutione sublatum est (b.c. II 32, 10). non denique communis belli casus recordabantur, quam parvulae saepe causae vel falsae suspicionis vel terroris repentini vel obiectae religionis magna detrimenta intulissent (“Finally, they did not consider the common chances of warfare, how often trifling causes, originating in a groundless suspicion, a sudden alarm, or a scruple about loyalty, have often caused considerable losses”: b.c. III 72, 4). qui omnes ad eum producti contra religionem iurisiurandi in eius conspectu crudelissime interficiuntur (“all of them, when brought to him, were most cruelly massacred before his eyes in violation of the obligation resulting from his oath”: b.c. III 28, 4). nulla tamen mendaci religione obstrictus videretur (b.c. I 11, 2).

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In his bellum Gallicum Caesar uses religio invariably with reference to religion, mostly in plural. For example he uses it in relation to the Gauls about whom he says that they are “deeply devoted to religious practices;”13 that they reserve for the gods things taken in war, and that “it has not often happened that a man, in defiance of religious scruple, has dared to conceal such spoils in his house or to remove them from their place”.14 Of the druids Caesar reports that “they interpret all religious issues” (religiones interpretantur: VI 13, 4), and of Dumnorix “that he was prevented by religious reasons” from accompanying Caesar to Britain.15 In one case Caesar uses religiones in the bellum Gallicum with reference to Roman soldiers who, being unexpectedly attacked by Germans, are thrown into total confusion; Caesar continues, “the majority (of the soldiers) pictured to themselves new superstitions (religiones) because of the place, and set before their eyes the disaster of Cotta and Titurius, who fell in the same fort”;16 religiones are visions of past events which seem to act with supernatural force upon the soldiers. The next term on Cicero’s list is fides, a word which occurs very frequently in Caesar’s works, a fact that points to the important rôle this concept played not only in the life of the Romans, but also in Caesar’s ways of thinking and understanding events and people. But while this concept is very common in Caesar, its meaning is more or less always the same: ‘loyalty’, ‘trustworthiness’, ‘reliability’. In the bel­ lum Gallicum one finds peoples trusting in the Romans, e.g. the Aeduans, who according to Caesar showed “long-standing and unbroken fidelity toward the Roman people” (V 54, 4: Haeduos … pro vetere et perpetua erga populum Romanum fide);17 or representatives of a whole state who “surrender themselves and all their possessions to the protection and power of the Roman people” (b.G. II 3, 2: qui dicerent se suaque omnia in fidem atque in potestatem populi Romani permittere); or Caesar ordering a Gallic leader, Commius, “whom he believes to be loyal to him” (b.G. IV 21, 7: quem sibi fidelem esse arbitrabatur),18 to encourage the Atrebates to accept the loyalty (i.e. protection) of the Roman people (b.G. IV 21, 8: ut populi Romani fidem sequantur). One also finds a Gallic tribe trusting in Caesar and thus deciding to surrender, “declaring that they would come into his protection and power” (b.G. II 13, 2: significare coeperunt sese in eius fidem ac potestatem veni­ re)19 – and Caesar accepting them (b.G. II 15, 1);20 or a Germanic tribe emphasising that “they had not broken faith” (b.G. VI 9, 6: neque ab se fidem laesam). Caesar is 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Natio est omnis Gallorum admodum dedita religionibus (b.G. VI 16, 1). Neque saepe accidit ut neglecta quispiam religione aut capta apud se occultare aut posita tollere auderet (b.G. VI 17, 5); here the singular is used. Partim quod religionibus impediri sese diceret (b.G. V 6, 3). Plerique novas sibi ex loco religiones fingunt Cottaeque et Tituri calamitatem, qui in eodem occiderint castello, ante oculos ponunt (b.G. VI 37, 8). See also b.G. VI 4, 2: “The Aeduans whose state was from ancient times under the protection (of Rome)” (Haeduos, quorum antiquitus erat in fide civitas). See also b.G. VII 76, 1; it is noteworthy that Caesar uses the adjective for no other person than Commius, though in the end Commius too took up arms against him: b.G. VII 4; 79, 1. See also b.G. V 3, 7: Indutiomarus promising “to commit the fortunes of himself and of the state to his protection” (seseque … suas civitatisque fortunas eius fidei permissurum). See also b.G. IV 22, 3: eos in fidem recipit.

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said “to have found some Gallic leaders being loyal to himself” (b.G. V 5, 4: quo­ rum in se fidem perspexerat); Caesar “had known the utmost loyalty” of Diviciacus (b.G. I 19, 2: egregiam fidem cognoverat); he developed “confidence” (fides) in local dignitaries in all matters (b.G. I 19, 3: C. Valerius Procillus; I 41, 4: Diviciacus) or in an interpreter such as C. Valerius Procillus (b.G. I 47, 4: propter fidem).21 But he is also seen to worry that “the enemies might say that after pledge given they were surrounded by him during a parley” and he might thereby lose his trustworthiness (b.G. I 46, 3: … putabat, ut … dici posset eos ab se per fidem in colloquio circumventos). And in one case it is Caesar who urges a tribe in great difficulties, the Boii, through the Aeduans “to remain loyal” (b.G. VII 10, 3: ut in fide maneant). In the fifth book of the Gallic war first Ambiorix assures Q.Titurius of his trustworthiness (b.G. V 36, 2: se suam fidem interponere); later the chiefs of the Nervians point to Ambiorix in order to inspire credit (b.G. V 41, 4: Ambiorigem ostentant fidei faciundae causa), and a little later we read of the Nervian Vertico who had “proved his loyalty to Cicero” (V 45, 2: suamque fidem ei praestiterat). Very rarely is there mention of the trustworthiness or reliability of Romans (or the lack thereof). In one case, Cicero does not feel sure that “Caesar would keep his promise as regards the number of days of his absence” (b.G. VI 36, 1: diffidens de numero dierum Caesarem fidem servaturum), and in another Volusenus “fails to make the troops believe that Caesar was close at hand with his army unhurt” (b.G. VI 41, 2: fidem non faceret adesse cum incolumi Caesarem exercitu). Fides is also used to describe the loyalty of one Gallic tribe to another. Right at the beginning of the bellum Gallicum the Helvetians, Sequani and Aeduans join forces, in order to seize the sovereignty in the whole of Gaul; we find them “giving a pledge and oath to one another” (b.G. I 3, 8: inter se fidem et ius iurandum dant). According to Diviciacus, the Bellovaci had always been in a state of loyalty and friendship with the Aeduans (b.G. II 14, 1: Bellovacos omni tempore in fide et ami­ citia civitatis Haeduae fuisse), and according to Caesar, the Bituriges with the Aeduans (b.G. VII 5, 2: ad Haeduos, quorum erant in fide). At the beginning of the seventh book the Carnutes ask that their agreement with the others “be confirmed by oath and pledge of loyalty” (b.G. VII 2, 2: iurando ac fide sanciatur), and Vercingetorix having become king sends out delegations in all directions, “entreating them to remain loyal” (b.G. VII 4, 5: obtestatur ut in fide maneant). Finally, the Avernian Critognatus, in a rebellious speech, asks his people “whether they doubted the faithfulness and firmness of the other tribes, because they were not arrived to the day” (b.G. VII 77, 10: an quod ad diem non venerunt de eorum fide constantiaque dubitatis). Earlier, the Avernians declare that “there could be no doubt of the loyalty of their leader (sc. to his people)” (b.G. VII 21, 1: nec de eius fide dubitandum), while in the fifth book Dumnorix “begins to appeal to the loyalty of his followers” (b.G. V 7, 8 suorumque fidem implorare coepit), having already “pledged his word to his peers, and demanded of them an oath” (b.G. V 6, 6 fidem reliquis interponere, ius iurandum poscere). Of an unusual situation Caesar speaks in the seventh book, 21

Of Mandubracius he simply says “a youth in quest of Caesar’s fidem” (b.G. V 20, 1: adulescens Caesaris fidem secutus); the same he says of Cingetorix (b.G. V 56, 3: quem demonstravimus Caesaris secutum fidem).

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when some Aeduans, encouraged by Convictolitavis, make the military tribune M. Aristius leave Cavillonum fide data: in this case, not “by offering loyalty”, in the sense of submission, but “by giving him a pledge of safety” (b.G. VII 42, 5); i.e. the meaning lies in the semantic field of “trustworthiness”. In the fourth book some Germans ask Caesar for permission to send delegates to another Germanic tribe, the Ubians, to find out if the chiefs and the senate of the Ubians would pledge their faith on oath (b.G. IV 11, 3: si iureiurando fidem fecissent). Of the Germans in general Caesar reports that they are in the habit of forming groups to go out on robberies, and those who do not follow are regarded as traitors and “afterwards trust is denied to them in all matters” (b.G. VI 23, 8: omniumque his rerum postea fides deroga­ tur). At the beginning of the bellum civile one reads that “the consuls and Pompeius would not interrupt their levies, until a pledge was given that Caesar would carry out his promise” (b.c. I 10, 4: quoad fides esset data Caesarem facturum quae pol­ liceretur non intermissuros consules Pompeiumque dilectus). A particular issue is at stake, when towards the end of the first book of the bellum civile the soldiers of Petreius and Afranius first “inquire about Caesar’s trustworthiness, whether they would be justified in committing themselves to him” (imperatoris fidem quaerunt, rectene se illi sint commissuri) and then “demand an assurance from the general for the life of Petreius and Afranius” (fidem ab imperatore de Petreio atque Afranio vita petunt : b.c. I 74, 2 and 3). A little later, in the description of the discussions between Caesar and the followers of Petreius and Afranius, Afranius asks for their understanding in that the soldiers of his camp “have chosen to keep faith with their commander Gn. Pompeius” (b.c. I 84, 3: quod fidem erga imperatorem suum Cn. Pom­ peium conservare voluerint). In the second book M. Terentius Varro, “mistrusting the fortunes of Pompey” (b.c. II 17, 1: diffidens Pompeianis rebus) talks in the most friendly terms of Caesar, pointing out that “he was held bound by a pledge of loyalty to Pompey” (b.c. II 17, 1: teneri fide obstrictum), “yet that no less strong a tie of intimacy existed between himself and Caesar” (necessitudinem quidem sibi nihilo minorem cum Caesare intercedere). Further below, we find Varro surrendering to Caesar and “handing over all public money to him most faithfully” (b.c. II 20, 8 relatis ad eum publicis cum fide rationibus). Then, C. Scribonius Curio assures his troops: “Caesar entrusted to your loyalty me and the province of Sicily and Africa” (b.c. II 32, 3: Caesar me … provinciam Siciliam atque Africam … vestrae fidei commisit); his troops endure with great indignation “the suspicion of disloyalty” (b.c. II 33, 1 infi­ delitatis suspicionem) and encourage Curio “to test their loyalty and courage” (b.c. II 33, 1: suam fidem virtutemque experiri). Further below, “for some time Curio could not be induced to believe the news” (b.c. II 37, 1: aliquamdiu fides fieri non poterat) – “such confidence had he in his own fortunes” (b.c. II 37, 1: tantam habe­ bat suarum rerum fiduciam);22 but when in greatest distress he emphasises that “he 22

Fiducia occurs three times in the bellum Gallicum: VII 19, 2: Gauls’ confidence in their position; 38, 8: Romans reliance on the protection of Litaviccus; 76, 5: self-confidence of the Gallic leaders. Caesar uses it nine times in the bellum civile: self-confidence of the Massilians: I 56, 4; II 4, 2; 14, 5; self-confidence of C. Scribonius Curio: II 31, 2; 37, 1; 38, 2; Pompeians’

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has received his army from Caesar on trust” (b.c. II 42, 4: exercitu, quem a Caesare {suae} fidei commissum acceperit). At b.c. II 44, 2 “the trustworthiness of the Pompeian leader P. Attius Varus is being injured by king Juba” (Varus suam fidem ab eo laedi quereretur); at b.c. III 71, 4, after his defection, Labienus hopes that if he takes certain actions, Pompeius “may show greater trust in him” (quo maior perfugae fides haberetur). At b.c. III 82, 4 Hirrus’ friends appeal to Pompey’s trustworthiness on behalf of Hirrus (cum … fidem implorarent Pompei); at b.c. III 101, 7 even Pompeians believe a rumour that initially they had refused to believe (cognitum est, ut ipsis Pompeianis fides fieret). Further up in the text, Caesar describes an aquilifer who having been entrusted with an eagle “returns it dying to Caesar … with the same loyalty” (b.c. III 64, 3: moriens eadem fide Caesari restituo). At b.c. I 34, 4 a Gallic tribe is described as owing allegiance to the people of Massilia (b.c. I 34, 4: qui in eorum fide … erant). The Massilians themselves acted without fides, i.e. “they looked for a time and opportunity for fraud and treachery” (b.c. II 14, 1: hostes sine fide tempus atque occasionem fraudis et doli quaerunt).23 At the beginning of the third book fides is being used in a very specific sense, referring to the economic situation: “When in the whole of Italy credit was beginning to fail and debts were not paid” (b.c. III 1, 2: cum fides tota Italia esset angus­ tior, neque creditae pecuniae solverentur). The next pair on Cicero’s list is pietas and scelus. Pietas, surprisingly, occurs only once – pius never – in Caesar’s genuine works, said of Ambiorix, “as he had performed his duty to them (the other Gauls) on the score of patriotism” (b.G. V 27, 7: quibus quoniam pro pietate satisfecerit). Scelus, too, is fairly rare.24 It occurs only once in the bellum Gallicum, when in a reply to the Helvetian Divico, Caesar begins with a general reasoning that “the immortal gods are wont to allow those persons whom they wish to punish for their guilt sometimes a greater prosperity and longer impunity” (b.G. I 14, 5: deos immortales … quos pro scelere eorum ulcisci velint, his secundiores interdum res et diuturniorem impunitatem concedere). In the chapter of the first book of the bellum civile, in the description of the reconciliation

23

24

confidence: III 25, 2; 72, 1; 96, 1; similarly, fidens b.c. III 111, 1: His copiis fidens Achillas “Achillas, trusting in these troops”; fiduciarius: b.c. II 17, 2: fiduciaria opera “a post of trust”. Here Caesar contrasts fides with fraus and dolus; cf. Cicero’s list in the second Catilinarian (fides vs. fraus); fraus and dolus are rarely used by Caesar, see b.G. VII 40, 6: Litavicci fraus and b.c. II 22, 1: Massilienses … sese dedere sine fraude constituunt. Caesar attributes dolus to the Gauls (b.G. IV 13, 1), while he makes the Helvetians claim “to fight with courage more than deceit” (b.G. I 13, 6: magis virtute quam dolo contenderent). More frequently, he uses perfidia (“treachery”), invariably for his enemies, Germans, Gauls or in the civil war: b.G. IV 13, 4: eadem et perfidia et simulatione usi Germani, see also 14, 3: pristini diei perfidia; b.G. VII 5, 5: renuntiant se Biturigum perfidiam veritos revertisse; perfidia Gallorum (b.G. VII 17, 7); Haeduorum perfidia (b.G. VII 54, 2); hostium perfidia (b.c. II 14, 4, see also II 6, 1). Sceleratus also is rare. When talking about the Druids, Caesar reports that anyone who does not submit to their decision is regarded as “impious and criminal” (b.G.VI 13, 7: hi numero impiorum et sceleratorum habentur – this being also the only occurence of impius in Caesar’s works); when describing the situation in the area of the Eburones, he once talks of them simply as “criminals” (b.G. VI 34, 5: homines scelerati).

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between Caesar’s troops and those of Petreius and Afranius (see above), the latter demand a solemn promise for the life of Petreius and Afranius, fearing “lest they should seem to have conceived some crime in their hearts” (b.c. I 74, 3: nequod in se scelus concepisse … videantur). In the second book one reads of “an impious violation of an armistice” (by the Massilians, b.c. II 15, 1: indutiisque per scelus violatis) and of C. Scribonius Curio asking his soldiers “for what would be more desirable for the enemies than to involve you in an atrocious crime?” (b.c. II 32, 4: quid enim est illis optatius quam … vos nefario scelere obstringere?). The next pair on Cicero’s list, constantia and furor, is as unpopular with Caesar as the pair examined in the previous paragraph. In a speech before all his centurions, Caesar outlines certain general principles of his attitude towards Ariovistus, stressing that “even if, in a fit of rage and madness, he makes war, what, pray, have you to fear?” (b.G. I 40, 4: quodsi furore atque amentia impulsus bellum intulisset, quid tandem vererentur?);25 a little further below, he mentions recent events in Italy “from which one could judge what profit there is in a good courage” (b.G. I 40, 6: ex quo iudicari posset, quantum haberet in se boni constantia).26 At the beginning of the bellum civile Caesar makes Pompey praise “the senate’s courage and firmness” (b.c. I 6, 1: senatus virtutem constantiamque conlaudat); at the beginnig of the third book of the Gallic war he makes the Remi speak of “the rage of all the other tribes” (b.G. II 3, 5: omnium furorem); in the seventh book he describes “Convictolitavis inciting his people to fury” (b.G. VII 42, 4: plebemque ad furorem in­ citavit). Turning to the next pair on Cicero’s list, honestas and turpitudo, one is confronted with a new problem; for neither honestas nor honeste is found in Caesar’s works; and honor, honestus and also honorificus refer to a person’s social position rather than his attitudes or actions. Turpitudo occurs once, evaluating a flight: “in order to obliterate by valour the disgrace of their flight” (b.G. II 27, 2: ut turpitudi­ nem fugae virtute delerent). But the adjective turpis occurs more frequently, mostly referring, like turpitudo, to actions that are generally regarded as shameful or disgraceful, such as a flight (b.c. II 31, 1; 4);27 or “a rash attack with a disgraceful end” as that of Scipio (b.c. III 37, 4: temere progressus turpem habuit exitum); or the behaviour of certain tax collectors and others who exacted a gain for themselves “claiming that they were in need of all necessaries, trying by a respectable plea to cover up the most infamous action” (b.c. III 32, 4: dictitabant enim … omnibus necessariis rebus egere, ut honesta prescriptione rem turpissimam tegerent).28 25 26

27 28

For amentia see also b.G. V 7, 2, Caesar talking about Dumnorix: “when he saw his madness developing further” (quod longius eius amentiam progredi videbat). For Critognatus’ use of constantia see b.G. VII 77, 10 (above p. 77). The adverb constanter is used twice: the enemy fought in a resolute fashion (b.G. III 25, 1: ab hostibus constanter … pugnaretur); the Gauls all with one consent report that… (b.G. II 2, 4: hi constanter omnes nuntiaverunt). See also b.G. VII 80, 5: quod in conspectu omnium res gerebatur, neque recte aut turpiter factum celari poterat; b.c. I 44, 1: pedem refere et loco excedere non turpe existimarent. M. Caelius Rufus, “lest he should seem to have taken up a disgraceful cause to no purpose, he promulgated a law that…” (b.c. III 20, 5: ne frustra ingressus turpem causam videretur, legem promulgavit).

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Sometimes general practices are characterised as turpes, e.g. when some Roman officers ask “What is regarded as … more discreditable than deciding supreme issues on the advice of the enemy”? (b.G. V 28, 6: quid esset … turpius quam auctore hoste de summis rebus capere consilium ?); or when a young Gaul still in his boyhood takes his place publicly in the presence of his father (b.G. VI 18, 3); or when a German has had knowledge of a woman before his twentieth year (b.G. VI 21, 5: turpissimum); or when a German uses a saddle (b.G. IV 2, 4). In some cases a particular state of affairs brought about by human actions is described as turpis. Thus the fact that Aeduans were heavily dependent on the Germans rather than on the Romans was deemed by Caesar to be an utter disgrace to himself and to the Roman state (b.G. I 33, 2: quod in tanto imperio populi Romani turpissimum sibi et rei publicae esse arbitrabatur). Another example is provided by Critognatus, who speaks of those “who call a disgraceful slavery by the name of surrender” (b.G. VII 77, 3: qui turpissimam servitutem deditionis nomine appellant). 29 The next Ciceronian pair, continentia and libido, is again represented very meagerly. In the seventh book of the Gallic war, Caesar reproaches his soldiers, first for their temeritas (“rashness”) and cupiditas (“avarice”),30 and then – while praising their animi magnitudo31 – for their licentia (“licentiousness”) and arrogantia (“arrogance”),32 pointing out that “he expected in a soldier discipline and self-command no less than valour and courage” (b.G. VII 52, 4: non minus se in milite modestiam ac continentiam quam virtutem atque magnitudinem animi desiderare). When speaking of “the fairness of Trebonius’ decree and his humanitas” (aequitate decreti et humanitate Treboni), he adds by way of explanation that Trebonius “thought that justice should … be administered with clemency and moderation” (b.c. III 20, 2: qui … clementer et moderate ius dicendum existimabat).33 He him29 30

31 32

33

Futher down, he continues: b.G. VII 77, 5: animi est ista mollitia, non virtus, paulisper inopiam ferre non posse; cf. b.G. VII 20, 5. Cupiditas is used with a negative connotation in connection with regni (b.G. I 2, 1; 9, 3), pecuniae (b.G. VI 22, 3), praedae (b.G. VI 34, 4), gloriae (b.G. VII 50, 4); with a positive connotation: belli gerendi (b.G. I 41,1), pugnandi (b.G.VII 74, 2); laudis (b.G. VII 80, 5 together with timor ignominiae). Correspondingly, cupidus is used negatively with bellandi (I 2, 4, see also cupidius b.G. I 15, 2; V 15, 2; 44, 12), rerum novarum (b.G. I 18, 3, and together with imperii V 6, 1); positively: pecoris (b.G. VI 35, 6), and in general, of soldiers cupidissimi (VII 40, 4, see also cupidissime b.G. I 40, 2; b.c. I 15, 2; 85, 4 [an interesting general observation]; II 20,5). Cf. b.G. VII 52, 3: “courage”, see also b.G. II 27, 5 (its extraordinary effects) and b.c. II 38, 2; “to be couragous”: magni animi esse: b.G. V 6, 1 (ambiguous); b.c. II 31, 8 (rather negative: “rash”). Licentia is employed mostly with a negative connotation: “licentiousnees” (at night: b.c. I 21, 2; in Alexandria: b.c. III 110, 2), “boldness” (b.c. II 31, 4), neutral: “freedom of movement” (b.c. I 51, 2). Arrogantia: “arrogance”, used of some barbarians; Ariovist: b.G. I 33, 5; 46, 4 and Roucillus and Aecus (b.c. III 59, 3: stulta arrogantia et pertinacia [“stubborness”]); Caesar in reprimanding his soldiers refers to their “arrogance” (b.G. I 40, 10) and in replying to Afranius speaks of “obstinacy and arrogance” (b.c. I 85, 4: nimia pertinacia et adrogantia), while he himself tries not to appear arrogant (b.c. III 1, 5). Caesar uses humanitas at the beginning of the bellum Gallicum in his description of the Belgians: fortissimi … propterea quod a cultu et humanitate provinciae longissime absunt (“the most courageous, for they are farthest removed from the culture and the civilisation of the

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self restores the money to Domitius “in order that he may not be thought more self-controlled in dealing with men’s life than with their money” (b.c. I 23, ne con­ tinentior in vita hominum quam in pecunia fuisse videatur).34 The next four items on Cicero’s list are well known as ‘cardinal’ virtues; each of them is paired with its opposite: aequitas / iniquitas, temperantia / luxuria, for­ titudo / ignavia and prudentia / temeritas. The word iniquitas occurs rarely in Caesar, while aequus and iniquus refer mostly to advantageous or disadvantageous ground for fighting. As for aequitas (“justice”), it appears only twice in the Gallic war: with respect to the “fair terms” offered to Ariovistus (b.G. I 40, 3: aequitate condicionum perspecta), and in the description of the practice of the Germans “to keep common people in a balanced state of mind, when each man sees that his own wealth is equal to that of the most powerful” (b.G. VI 22, 4: ut animi aequitate plebem contineant, cum suas quisque opes cum potentissimis aequari videat). Caesar uses the adjective aequus in the same sense twice: when making Germans ask: “If he thought it unfair that the Germans should cross into Gaul against his consent, why did he claim imperial power across the Rhine?” (b.G. IV 16, 4: si se invito Germanos in Galliam transire non aequum existimaret, cur sui quicquam esse im­ perii aut potestatis trans Rhenum postularet?); and when making Ariovistus argue for a joint action of the Gauls (b.G. VII 29, 7). At the beginning of the bellum civile, Caesar is waiting a reply to his very lenient demands, in the hope that “by some sense of equity a peaceful conclusion might be reached” (I 5, 5: si qua hominum aequitate res ad otium deduci posset). Later speaking of himself in the Senate he claims “that he was striving to be superior in justice and equity” (b.c. I 32, 9: se … iustitia et aequitate velle superare); and at the end of the book he shows his own fairness by restoring to the soldiers of Petreius and Afranius what his soldiers had taken and by paying to them a recompense – “after a fair estimate had been made” (b.c. I 87, 1: aequa facta aestimatione).35 Correspondingly, iniquitas is used e.g. where Caesar says in view of his soldiers’ determination to fight “that he ought to be considered guilty of the utmost injustice, if he did not hold their life dearer than his personal safety” (b.G. VII 19, 5: summae se iniquitatis condemnari debere, nisi eorum vitam sua salute habeat cariorem). It also occurs in a more general sense “in so grievous a state of affairs” (b.G. II 22, 2: in tanta rerum iniquitate). Iniquus is found where Caesar reproduces

34 35

Province” (I 1, 3; in this sense humanus: b.G. IV, 3, 3 [Ubii]; V 14, 1 [people of Kent]). He also uses it in describing a young officer as “a young man of exemplary courage and courtesy” (b.G. I 47, 4: summa virtute et humanite adulescentem). See further: “all divine and human rights are thrown into confusion” (b.c. I 6, 8: omnia divina humanaque iura permiscentur). Elsewhere continens means simply “continuous” (b.G. VII 24, 1; b.c. III 6, 33; 97, 4). For aequus animus “equanimity, calm” see b.G. V 49, 6 (Caesar about himself, also b.c. I 9, 3; b.c. I 75, 1: shown by Afranius), b.G. V 52, 6: aequior animus expected from the Roman soldiers; b.G. VII 64, 3: aequus animus expected from his allies by Ariovistus; b.c. III 15, 5: shown by Bibulus’ soldiers; I 58, 4: shown by Caesars soldiers, b.c. III 6, 1 and III 41, 5 expected from them; see further aequius imperium (b.G. VI 12, 7: “fairer rule”); aequo Marte ad dimicandum (b.G. VII 19, 3: “for fighting on equal terms” as opposed to iniquitatem condicionis: “inequality with respect to the conditions of fighting”); aequa parte contentum (b.c. III 10, 7: “content with an equal share”); aequo proelio (b.c. III 112, 7: “evenly balanced fight”).

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Ariovistus’ arguments (b.G. I 40, 4 and 8: “unfair”) and where he describes “his hope that barbarous and untrained people might be obliged … to fight on unequal terms”, i.e. at a disadvantage (b.G. VI 10, 2: sperans barbaros atque imperitos homines … ad iniquam pugnandi condicionem posse deduci). At the begining of the bellum civile Caesar in an unusual manner passes a jugdement on Pompey’s proposal, stating, “it was an unfair condition …” (b.c. I 11, 1: erat iniqua condicio). As we saw above, Caesar in one case uses aequitas coupled with iustitia, which is the other noun that denotes “justice, fairness” (b.c. I 32, 9). Iustitia occurs three times in the Gallic war: twice in the lists of the virtues of individuals, the Aeduan Diviciacus (b.G. I 19, 2 see p. 77) and the Suession Galba (b.G. II 4, 7 see p. 84), and once where he praises the Volcae Tectosages “for their high regard for justice and military merit” (b.G. VI 24, 3: summamque habet iustitiae et bellicae laudis opinionem). The adjective iustus is used in the sense “merited, justified”, with regard to: the just grounds for a close relationship between the Romans and the Aeduans (b.G. I 43, 6) – unlike Ariovistus’ claims (b.G. I 43, 5); the just cause that Convictolitavis had won before Caesar (b.G. VII 37, 4); the justified character of the Roman rule in Gaul (b.G. I 45, 3: iustissimum … imperium); one of Caesar’s cogent reasons for crossing the Rhine (b.G. IV 16, 1); the justness of Caesar’s cause in comparison to the justness of Pompey’s cause (b.c. I 35, 3); and a merited penalty (b.c. I 86, 1).36 While iustitia is rare in Caesar’s works, iniuria occurs very frequently. Used either in singular or plural, it refers mostly in a very general way to unjust actions committed by, or expected from, nations: the Helvetians (b.G. I 14, 2; 3; 4; 30, 2; expected by the Romans b.G. I 7, 5 and the Sequani b.G. I 9, 4 and avenged by Caesar: I 12, 7); the Aeduans (Dumnorix: b.G. I 20, 5, expected and complained about by Ariovistus: b.G. I 36, 5; 6); the Suebi (b.G. IV 8, 3); the Pirustae (b.G. V 1, 7); all neighbours of the Nervii (b.G. II 28, 3); the Aduatuci (b.G. II 32, 2); the Gallic tribes amongst themselves (b.G. VI 15, 1);37 the Germans (b.G. IV 8, 2);38 the Romans (b.G. II 33, 1; V 21, 1; 38, 2; VII 38, 10). It may also refer to unjust actions committed by, or expected from, individuals: Ariovistus (expected by Aeduans [Diviciacus] b.G. I 31, 16, by everybody b.G. I 33, 1, by Caesar b.G. I 35, 3; 4); Caesar (complained about by Ariovistus b.G. I 36, 4).39 In the bellum civile the concept of iniuria is applied to acts of violence in general: e.g. acts of violence committed by Pompey’s soldiers (I 28, 1) or Caesar’s enemies against him (I 7, 1; 9, 1; 32, 2; 85, 2). But it is applied to specific forms of violence and wronging too, as is the wrong consisting of robbing Caesar of his legions; I 32, 6; I 7, 8; I 36, 4; III 59, 4.

36 37 38 39

See further b.G. VI 19, 4 (“proper funeral rites”), VII 23, 4 (“regular height of a wall”), b.c. I 23, 5 and III 76, 1 (“regular march”). b.G. VI 10, 5: a very large forest protecting Cherusci and Suevi against “each other’s injuries and incursions” (iniuriis incursionibusque); VI 13, 2: the social order of the Gallic nations, in which the majority is oppressed by the “injustice of the powerful” (iniuria potentiorum). b.G. VI 23, 9 the Germans protect guests from unjust acts. b.G. VII 54, 2; b.G. III 10, 2; b.G. V 20, 2.

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In the second position of his series of cardinal virtues Cicero places temperan­ tia, a term Caesar employs only once. Since both the verb temperare and synonyms like modestia are very rare too,40 one cannot help feeling that this aspect of the moral life was not regarded by him as having any importance, and when he mentions it besides egregia fides and iustitia in characterising the Aeduan Diviciacus (b.G. I 19, 2), I am inclined to assume that he is drawing on philosophers’ and rhetoricians’ stock lists of virtues. The opposite, luxuria, is used rarely too: Caesar uses it in the passage in which he speaks of the Nervii, who did not allow wine and other things tending to luxury to be imported (b.G. II 15, 4: nihil pati vini reliquiarumque rerum ad luxuriam pertinentium inferri); he uses it also twice at the end of the bel­ lum civile, when he describes what was found in Pompey’s camp (b.c. III 96, 1 and 2): “many objects which were proofs of excessive luxury” (multaque … quae ni­ miam luxuriem … designarent) – he adds that the Pompeians “had yet reproached Caesar’s army for luxury (hi … exercitu Caesaris luxuriam obiciebant) and that they “felt no fear about the issue of the day, inasmuch as they sought out unnecessary pleasures” (nihil eos de eventu eius diei timuisse, qui non necessarias conqui­ rerent voluptates).41 Third in Cicero’s series of cardinal virtues comes fortitudo with ignavia as its opposite. As for Caesar, though he describes numerous battles, oddly enough he uses fortitudo only once, when he speaks of the “renown for warfare and bravery” of the Helvetians (b.G. I 2, 5: gloria belli atque fortitudinis), while he never uses ignavia and ignavus. The adjective fortis and the adverb fortiter occur frequently: they nearly always “brave,” “valiant”, “courageous”, so that a detailed discussion of all passages seems superfluous here. The same applies to virtus, the term mostly used for “courage”. When one turns to the last pair, prudentia and temeritas, one is again confronted with a rather surprising picture: prudentia occurs only once in Caesar’s works, temeritas quite frequently. Prudentia (together with iustitia: “foresight and fairness”) is ascribed to Galba, the king of the Suessiones (b.G. II 4, 7), and again one gets the impression that Caesar is drawing on the traditional stock of virtues. Scientia cannot be regarded as a synonym, since it almost always refers to military skill.42 Sapientia does not occur in Caesar’s works.43 But temeritas, temerarius 40

41 42 43

He uses temperare once, when expressing “his opinion that men of hostile disposition, if granted an opportunity of marching through the Province, would not refrain from outrage and mischief” (b.G. I 7, 5: neque homines inimico animo data facultate per provinciam itineris faciundi, temperaturos ab iniuria et maleficio existimabat); similarly b. G. I 33, 4: neque sibi homines feros ac barbaros temperaturos existimabat. Both modestia (“moderation”) and moderate (“with moderation) also occur once only (b.G. VII 52, 4: see above p. 81; b.c. III 20, 2: see above p. 81); moderari is used once for horses (b.G. IV 33, 3), and once when the Gauls decide to assemble not all of their troops, being afraid that otherwise “they could neither govern nor distinguish their men” (b.G. VII 75, 1: ne … nec moderari nec discernere suos … possent). In two other cases voluptas simply means “joy” (b.G. I 53, 6) or some harmless kind of “pleasure” (b.G. V 12, 6). See b.G. II 20, 3; III 23, 5; VII 29, 2; 57, 3 (also scientius: VII 22, 2; scienter: b.c. I 55, 1); b.c. I 58, 1 and 2 the skill of pilots, b.G. I 47, 4 the knowledge of a language. Only sapio once: “they will know” (b.G. V 30, 2: hi sapient).

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and temere are found quite frequently, as are imprudentia and imprudens. Caesar uses temerarius of Ariovistus, when having described his actions as “despotic and cruel” (superbe et crudeliter), he characterises him as “a savage, passionate, and reckless man” (b.G. I 31, 12–13: hominem barbarum, iracundum temerarium).44 Labienus hopes for rash action (recklessness) on the part of the Gauls (b.G. VI 7, 4);45 Caesar says that rash action is typical of the race of the Aeduans (b.G. VII 42, 2); and the Arvernian Critognatus warns the Gauls “forbear by folly, rashness, and cowardice of yours to cause the downfall of the whole of Gaul” (b.G. VII 77, 9: nolite … stultitia ac temeritate vestra aut animi imbecillitate omnem Galliam pros­ ternere);46 however, the Aeduan leaders themelves are not always certain that their own people will act rashly (b.G. VII 37, 6). In his general account of the habits of Gauls and Germans in the sixth book, Caesar gives as the reason behind their establishing certain laws that “it has been found out that hasty and inexperienced men were often alarmed by false reports (b.G. VI 20, 2: quod saepe homines temerarios atque imperitos falsis rumoribus terreri … cognitum est). In describing Britain, he stresses that “nobody except traders journeys thither without good cause” (b.G. IV 20, 3: neque enim temere praeter mercatores illo adit quisquam). As regards the Romans, he points out that his officers “refrain from acting impetuously” (b.G. V 28, 3: nihil temere agendum … existimabant), while he has to admit that once “they had suffered a disaster because of the misconduct and rashness of his lieutenant” (b.G. V 52, 6: detrimentum culpa et temeritate legati sit acceptum). In the bellum civile again one reads that Caesar’s troops persecute their enemies “rashly” (I 45, 2);47 that his enemies venture “rashly” out of the line (b.c. I 55, 2); that Q. Caecilius Metellus Pius Scipio advances “rashly” (b.c. III 37, 4); that C. Scribonius Curio “rashly” believes some rumours (b.c. II 38, 2). In these cases, Caesar obviously admits a defect of his own troops and officers, an indication that he tries – at least in some respects – to be fair in his account of the war in Gaul and the civil war. This survey has shown that Caesar chooses his vocabulary very carefully. Occasionally he makes use of the traditional lists of virtues of the philosophers and rhetoricians (see b.G. I 19, 2 for Diviciacus, and II 4, 7 for Galba). However, the foregoing comparison between the ethical terms of Caesar’s bella and the list of terms for virtues and vices in Cicero’s second Catilinarian speech has shown that throughout the bella Caesar is quite independent in his choice of words. The main reason for this, I think, is not that he gives preference to other terms, but that he regards as most important other aspects of human feeling, thinking and acting than Cicero. For that reason Caesar often speaks – apart from courage (virtus) – of shameful (turpis) actions or rashness (temeritas), and of loyalty (fides and also reli­ gio) and disloyalty (perfidia), virtus and fides being the two virtues which had always played a central rôle in the Roman tradition, as is shown by the coins of the 44 45 46 47

b.G I 40, 2 Caesar himself does not expect a rash action from Ariovistus. b.c. III 87, 2. Stultitia is a hapax legomenon; for stultus see b.c. III 59, 3, where Caesar describes the sons of Adbucillius as “puffed up with stupid and barbarous arrogance” (stulta ac barbara arrogantia elati). Imbecillitas is used in b.c. II 15, 2 for “weakness of material (timber in particular)”. According to Pompey, Caesar had once “rashly” advanced too far (b.c. III 45, 6).

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republican period. What seems equally important to me is the fact that time and again he tries either to carefully analyse or explain the motive of a particular feeling or action (see e.g. b.c. III 60, 2–3) or to make generally applicable observations on human behaviour: e.g. on what he expects of a soldier (b.G. VII 52, 4 [p. 81] or on what – in his view – others think about “soldiers in a civil war” (b.c. I 67, 3–4 ([see note 6]) or “soldiers acting at night” (b.c. II 31, 7 [see p. 74]). Thus Caesar appears throughout his two bella not only as a critic with clear moral standards, but also as a careful observer with well-considered standards to judge many kinds of human actions in very different situations in life. BIBLIOGRAPHY Classen C. J., Virtutes Romanorum nach dem Zeugnis der Münzen republikanischer Zeit, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Römische Abteilung 93, 1986, 257–279; revised version: Classen C.J., Die Welt der Römer, 39–61 Classen C. J., Virtutes Romanorum. Römische Tradition und griechischer Einfluß, in: Gymnasium 95, 1988, 289–302; revised version: Classen C.J., Zur Literatur, 243–254 Classen C. J., Die Welt der Römer. Studien zu ihrer Literatur, Geschichte und Religion, Berlin/New York 1993 Classen C. J., Zur Literatur und Gesellschaft der Römer, Stuttgart 1998 Classen C. J., Vorbilder – Werte – Normen in den homerischen Epen, Berlin/New York 2008 Classen C. J., Aretai und Virtutes. Untersuchungen zu den Wertvorstellungen der Griechen und Römer, Berlin/New York 2010

5 EDITING THE FRAGMENTS OF ATELLANE COMEDY Costas Panayotakis Abstract In this chapter I touch upon some of the difficulties facing an editor of the corpus of playwrights transmitted indirectly and in fragmentary form, and I use as my casestudy a very small selection of the extant literary remains of the native Italian drama conventionally known as Atellane comedy. I talk about the unreliability of existing critical editions, the risks in emending non-standard Latin vocabulary in comic scripts, the uncertainty that exists in the manuscripts with regard both to the titles of plays and to individual words in them, and also (perhaps more importantly) the names of the playwrights associated with the fragments. Many of these observations are transferable to other fragmentary genres of Latin literature, but some of them (for instance, the editorial uncertainty over the variant readings neuius and nouius) are peculiar to the fragments of Atellane comedy. This chapter is a small token of gratitude to the late Professor Ioannis Taifacos, whose unfailing kindness and generous assistance with my research in the manuscripts of Charisius had been of invaluable help to me when I was working on the Latin fragments of the mimographer Laberius.1 The present Festschrift was meant to have been presented to him on the occasion of his birthday in November 2013.2 Sadly he did not live to see this happen, but I would like to think that he would have been amused by the frivolous Latin extracts discussed in my contribution, and that he would have sympathized with the problems outlined here in editing these extracts. My aim in this chapter is to offer no more than an overview of some of the difficulties facing an editor of the corpus of playwrights transmitted indirectly and in fragmentary form, and my case-study for this brief analysis are the extant literary remains (and by ‘literary’ I mean ‘scripted, in verse form, and with literary qualities’) of the native Italian drama conventionally known as Atellane comedy. The adjective Atellanus ‘Atellane’ is linked with theatre already in the early first century bc (Var. Men. 189), and its feminine form (Atellana) is first attested as a technical term in Cicero’s time (Ad fam. 9.16.7), in a letter written in July 46 bc to L. Papirius Paetus, with reference to the (missing) noun fabula ‘play’; it seems to indicate a category of native Italian comic drama named after the town Atella, an 1 2

C. Panayotakis, Decimus Laberius: The Fragments, Cambridge 2010, 85. I am grateful to Dr G. A. Xenis, who kindly issued the original invitation asking me to contribute to the Festschrift, and who subsequently had the sad task of editing the volume after Professor Taifacos’ passing away.

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Oscan town of Campania in west central Italy. Why Atella and not any other town? I do not know, and it may be that even Varro, Cicero, and Livy, who mentions Atellane drama in his celebrated account of the origin of the ludi scaenici,3 did not know either. Perhaps in Varro’s mind (and in the mind of his source?) Atella was the place where this type of popular entertainment originated or at least became prominent. Sadly evidence of material culture of the Republican period related to theatre is yet to be found in Atella. Sophie Hay, who researches on geophysics for the University of Southampton and the British School at Rome, kindly allowed me to read the geophysical survey report carried out in August 2006 in the town of Orta di Atella in Campania by a joint team from the Archaeological Prospection Services of Southampton and the British School at Rome. Several parts of the ancient city have been identified, including a private house with a peristyle, dated to the first century bc, as well as baths with a mosaic pavement of the second century ad, with fourth century modifications. The most prominent part of the ancient city still visible is a section of the baths complex, known as “Il Castellone”, of which remains a part of the frigidarium decorated with painted stuccos, dated to the first half of the second century ad. There is no evidence of permanent theatrical fixtures, and there is little hope of continuing the survey. It may be that early and presumably unscripted Atellane drama was performed, like the palliata, on temporary stages and at ad hoc locations. The Romans may have come to know about Oscan jokes and Campanian theatrical traditions perhaps from the time of the First Samnite War in 343 bc, when the populations of Rome and Capua first seem to have come into direct contact, and very probably after 312 bc, when the Appian Way was opened. We are told by Livy (and I cannot think why his testimony at this point should be doubted) that amateur actors wearing masks acted in farcical situations, which, initially, were probably improvized and delivered in Oscan language (Livy 7.2.12, Val. Max. 2.4.4, Paul.-Fest. 238L). Not much else may be said with certainty about early Atellane drama, but on the evidence of three well-known passages from Plautus (Rud. 535; As. 11; Bacch. 1088) it is possible to argue for the existence of what may have been stock characters with ‘speaking’ names that betray Greek, Latin, or Etruscan influence in their morphology: Maccus, Bucco, Pappus and Manducus or Dossenus. I like to think of them as the ancient equivalent of the Marx Brothers in the American cinema of the 1930s and 1940s, Chico, Harpo, Groucho, and Zeppo. Each of them had his distinct stage persona and they all starred in farcical situations that differed from one film to another. The name Maccus ‘Fool’ is probably related to the Greek verb makkoan ‘to be stupid’ (attested in Ar. Eq. 396). The word bucco ‘fathead’ is attested in inscriptions,4 and was explained by Isidore (10.30) as a derivative of bucca ‘the lower part of the cheek(s)’ (OLD s.v.). So a bucco may originally have been a term of abuse referring to people who puff their cheecks out or have their mouth open all the time (see OLD s.v. bucca 1c). What is intriguing about him is that we now have 3 4

Livy 7.2.1–13; cf. Val. Max. 2.4.4. S. P. Oakley, A Commentary on Livy Books VI—X, Oxford 1998, 40–55, 58–72, and 776–8 is essential reading alongside Livy’s text. To the inscriptional evidence mentioned in TLL II 2229.26–7 add ILS 5219 Dessau.

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the mask of a person with a large, open mouth bearing the inscription bvco; it dates to the first century ad and was found in Pompeii (now in the National Archaeological Museum in Naples, Inv. 322286). It is reproduced clearly on the cover of a book edited by Raffaelli and Tontini (2010), which contains the Proceedings of the First Conference on Atellane Comedy that took place in Succivo (Ce) in October 2009.5 Pappus is the Latinized form (with Latin suffixation) of the Greek word for ‘grandfather’. Manducus or Manduco ‘Glutton’ is derived from the verb manducare ‘to chew’. We know that an effigy of a figure called Manducus was included in festive processions amongst other effigies which provoked fear and laughter (Paul.Fest. 115L). Varro (in LL 7.95), without mentioning Plautus’ passage, explicitly relates this Manducus to Atellane comedy, and identifies him with Dossennus, another character associated with Atellane comedy who seems to have been fond of food, and whose name (probably meaning ‘(?) Hunchback’, according to the OLD) is apparently formed from the root of the Latin noun dorsum ‘back’ and the Etruscan suffix –ennus.6 Establishing the names of these characters rightly is important for an editor of the literary Atellane drama because these names turn up time and again in the titles of the plays and in the scripts themselves: we have, for instance, The Adopted Bucco, Bucco the Gladiator, Wee Bucco, The Maccus Twins, Maccus the Soldier, Maccus the Trustee, Maccus the Maiden, The Two Dossenni, Maccus the Innkeeper, Maccus in Exile. One part of the problem is that even a cursory look at the texts of Varro (LL 6.68) and Nonius Marcellus, who cite Atellane titles and fragments, demonstrates that bucco should not necessarily be always printed with a capital B: ‘fathead’ need not refer to a character’s name. In addition to this, the word Dosse­ num ‘(?)Hunchback’ in the passage of Varro mentioned earlier (LL 7.95) is Müller’s emendation for the nonsensical reading ad obsenum;7 it is not an implausible emendation, because there is no accusative in the transmitted text to function as the object of the verb (Dossenum fills that gap), and it is possible to see the origin of the error. Elsewhere, however, it is quite difficult to justify printing this bizarre name. I have checked every single instance of the name Dossennus in the early manuscripts of Nonius Marcellus, who cites Atellane fragments, and all of them (perhaps predictably enough) have serious textual problems. So much for the names of the characters. The playwrights associated with Atellane drama seem to be Novius, Pomponius (from Bologna), Aprissius (whose name, documented only once in Var. LL 6.68, is

5

6 7

R. Raffaelli and A. Tontini (edd.), L’Atellana Letteraria. Atti della Prima Giornata di Studi sull’Atellana, Urbino 2010. Atellane studies are flourishing under the guidance of Raffaelli and Tontini: see also R. Raffaelli and A. Tontini (edd.), L’Atellana Preletteraria. Atti della Seconda Giornata di Studi sull’Atellana, Urbino 2013. I have written in detail about these names and their possible existence in the plays of Plautus in a chapter entitled ‘Roman laughter: native Italian drama and its influence on Plautus’ in: M. Dinter (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Roman Comedy, Cambridge (forthcoming). in Atellanis Dossenum [K. O. Müller: ad obsenum cod.: an Dossennum?] vocant Manducum. Apud Matium: obscaeni [Vertranius: obsceni cod.] interpres.

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highly dubious), and Mummius. Pomponius, says the untrustworthy Jerome (Chron. p. 150 H), was at his peak in 89 bc. Mummius probably wrote not later than the Augustan period and, according to Macrobius (Sat. 1.10.3), revived Atellane art, when it was long neglected after Novius and Pomponius. We do not know Novius’ and Aprissius’ dates. These playwrights are almost entirely unknown to students of Latin literature and, like the mimographer Laberius, they survive only in fragments, all of them written in Latin (not in Oscan or in Greek). Their fragments were not included in Warmington’s Remains of Old Latin in the Loeb Classical Library series, and there has never been an English translation of the whole corpus or an English commentary on it. In addition to the remains of their plays, we have a few citations (one of them in Greek) from Atellane plays of unknown title and authorship. Finally, the Latin comedies which have been attributed by Nicolaus Damaskenus to Sulla (FGrHist 2, 90 fr. 75) were probably Atellane scripts. None of those survives. The distribution of the fragments is as follows: we have 232 fragments of Pomponius and Novius, as opposed to only 13 from other authors (one from Aprissius, three from Mummius, and nine of unknown authorship). This means that our linguistic knowledge of the fabula Atellana is restricted to Novius and Pomponius, just as our linguistic knowledge of the Republican mime is heavily influenced by the writings of Laberius. There are currently 143 fragments attributed to Pomponius. Only three of these are quoted for literary rather than linguistic reasons: one each is found in Cicero, Seneca, and Lactantius. All the other fragments come from grammarians and lexicographers or literary authors who quote them for linguistic reasons. The vast majority of fragments, 119 in total, comes from Nonius Marcellus, who quotes two of the fragments twice and three of them three times. Ten fragments come from Charisius, eight from Priscian, four from Macrobius, three from Gellius, and two from Donatianus. In addition, we have one fragment each from Augustine, Bede, Cledonius, Diomedes, Donatus, Festus, and the unknown author of De dubiis nominibus. The situation is similar for Novius. There are 89 fragments in total (if we stick with Ribbeck’s arithmetic), only six of which are in authors who transmit them for literary reasons: three are quoted by Cicero, two by Fronto, and one by Macrobius. Macrobius is also the source of another fragment which he transmits for linguistic reasons. Again the vast majority of fragments comes from grammarians, lexicographers, or authors with an interest in language. Just as was the case for Pomponius, Nonius Marcellus is the largest source of our fragments of Novius. He transmits 67, of which he quotes one twice and one three times. Eight fragments are found in Festus, four in Priscian (who uses Nonius as the source for one fragment), two in Gellius, and one each in Diomedes and Servius. The wide variety of authors citing Atellane drama is daunting for an editor of the corpus, who, quite sensibly, will turn to existing editions of these authors in order to form his/her own view on the text, language, style, themes, and metre of Atellane drama. This is what Claudia Squintu did in 2006, when she published a large-scale Italian commentary on Pomponius, using as her text Ribbeck’s third edition of the fragments (published in 1898) in combination with Frassinetti’s edi-

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tion of 1967.8 My own view on this issue is that with rarely studied authors, such as Pomponius, an editor ought not to rely on earlier editions, some of which are over a century old, but ought to go back to collate afresh at least the early manuscripts of the transmitting authors and attempt to understand the transmission of their text. This may not need to happen for all transmitting authors. It is very helpful, for example, that Robert Kaster has quite recently re-edited Macrobius’ Saturnalia in the Oxford Classical Text series (2011) and has published on-line his own collations of previously uncollated manuscripts.9 Gellius’ edition in the Oxford Classical Text series I found generally reliable, when I collated the printed parts I was interested in with the corresponding sections in the manuscripts of Gellius (nonetheless, I look forward to the publication of the new edition of the Noctes Atticae in the OCT series by L. Holford-Strevens). For Charisius I no longer trust Barwick’s Teubner edition, because I discovered that he does not always report the corrections (either by the scribe’s hand or by other hands) in the later Neapolitan manuscripts n and n1; although they are dated to the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, they are very useful because of the illegible and inaccessible state of the sole early manuscript of Charisius, the Neapolitanus IV.A.8, dated to the eighth century. The situation as far as the text of Priscian’s Instit. Gramm. is concerned is most frustrating. A team of Italian scholars, expertly led by Michella Rosellini, is currently busy editing Priscian’s works, but my understanding is that priority has been given to editing the opera minora contained in the later books of Priscian. Perhaps it will be years before the important and difficult Books 1 and 2 of Priscian’s Instit. Gramm. are critically re-edited, and for this reason there is no point in waiting. Taking the initiative to consult the early manuscripts of Priscian is rarely a waste of time. For example, if you look at Hertz’s edition of Priscian 15.22, you will discover that our Pomponius has written a play de Philosophia ‘on Philosophy’: Priscian 15.22 = p. 1014 P = 3, 77 H Pomponius de Philosophia: cum istaec memore meminit pro ‘memoriter’ But titles of plays are indicated in the grammarians either without a preposition or with the preposition in. In their editions of the corpus of Pomponius, Ribbeck and Frassinetti report the reading which Hertz too had reported, de Philosophia, and this is because all three editors simply report the reading of one strand of the manuscript tradition. But Hertz, who edited Priscian in 1858 (this is our most recent edition of the grammarian), had not collated Vatican Lat. 3313, dated to the early ninth century, and occupying a special place in the recensio of Priscian.10 The hand in this manuscript clearly wrote simply Philosophia (which I take to be ablative singular and the correct title of the play attributed to Pomponius). Turning to Nonius, whose text is invaluable for Atellane drama, one can only hope that, after the sad news of the death of Ferruccio Bertini, his colleagues in 8 9 10

C. Squintu, Le Atellane di Pomponio, Cagliari 2006; P. Frassinetti, Atellanae fabulae, Rome 1967. For the references see Panayotakis, Laberius, xxix. On this manuscript see Panayotakis, Laberius, 87 with further references.

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Genoa will soon publish the long-awaited new edition of De Compendiosa Doc­ trina. Lindsay’s fundamental edition of the text (1903) had of course improved greatly on the editions of his predecessors, but even Lindsay did not give all the information that an editor of an author quoted by Nonius would want, particularly where titles of specific works are concerned. Consider the following fragment of Nonius, who cites a trochaic septenarius from Pomponius to illustrate the use of the adverb reverecunditer ‘reverentially’, attested only here. Lindsay prints the text as follows (I am also printing his appara­ tus criticus): Nonius 516M = 831L [HLVPEACX] Reverecunditer. Pomponius Macco Virgine: praeteriens vidit Dossennum in ludo reverecunditer non docentem condiscipulum, verum scalpentem natis vidit Both. || dos sensum ACX: duos sensum HLVPE: corr. Both.

which I translate as ‘Reverentially’. Pomponius in Maccus the Maiden has: as he was passing by, he saw at the school Dossennus, who was reverentially not teaching his fellow-pupil but scratching the buttocks. The phrase scalpentem natis ‘scratching the buttocks’ possibly refers to anal intercourse,11 and the mind boggles how to fit this in a play that may have featured cross-dressing. Although Lindsay dutifully mentions that the difficult name Dos­ sennum is Bothe’s emendation, there is a misprint in his apparatus criticus: Bothe had not proposed uidit but uidi. More importantly, it is nowhere mentioned in the editions of Lindsay or Ribbeck or Frassinetti that almost all the manuscripts (including the more reliable manuscripts) read uirginem, in the accusative case, which could then be taken as the object of the participle praeteriens and as the metrical ending of the previous trochaic septenarius that was included by Nonius’ source at this point in his treatise, a list of adverbs arranged in strict alphabetical order by an unidentified, careful and reliable scholar (28. Alph. Adverb.).12 Only manuscript X (Leidensis Vossianus Latinus Q. 116, saec. IX3–4/4), a descendant of the third family at this point in Nonius’ text, reads uirgine, and his reading has been adopted in the editio princeps of Nonius, which is reported by Ribbeck but neither by Lindsay nor by Frassinetti. The title Maccus Virgo is not attested elsewhere, whereas the title Maccus is. None of this would have been clear by consulting Lindsay’s edition, which is the most recent edition of Nonius. Consider now the following fragment, which illustrates use of the deponent verb expergiscor ‘I wake up’ used as an intransitive active verb, and is attributed by Nonius to Pomponius’ play The False Agamemnon. Frassinetti, the most recent editor of Atellane drama as a whole, prints the fragment as follows: Nonius 473M = 758L [HLVPEACX]: Expergisceret pro expergisceretur. Pomponius Agamemnone Subposito: 11 12

At least according to J. N. Adams, The Latin Sexual Vocabulary, London 1982, 149. On him and his methods see now J. Welsh, The methods of Nonius Marcellus’ sources 26, 27, and 28, in: CQ 62, 2012, 827–845; and Some fragments of republican drama from Nonius Marcellus’ sources 26, 27 and 28, in: CQ 63, 2013, 253–276.

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ne quis miraretur, cum tam clare tonuerit ut, si quis dormitaret, expergisceret

1 miretur ed. princ. Ribbeck; cf. Pl. Aul. 1 ne quis miretur qui sim, paucis eloquar

which I tentatively translate as follows: Expergisceret ‘would wake up’ instead of expergisceretur. Pomponius in The False Agamemnon has: so that nobody would be surprised, whenever it thunders so loudly that, if one was falling asleep, he would start to wake up I have no idea how to scan the first line, although I can scan the second as a senarius. If the first line also is supposed to be a senarius, then ne quis should be scanned short-short (with Iambic Shortening) and written as one word (nequis) so that the first foot may become an anapaest. This is how Lindsay scans the line. But the normal scansion of nequis written as one word is nēquis (with a long first syllable). If we are to keep ne quis as two words, as Frassinetti does (scanning them as long-long), then we have a senarius with an extra syllable. Ne quis as two words is appealing to me because of the symmetry that it creates with si quis (scanned longlong) in the following line. Miraretur is the reading of all the manuscripts at this point, but the editio princeps of Nonius (published in 1470) corrected this to mire­ tur. This would scan and it would also parallel nicely the first line of Plautus’ Aulu­ laria, spoken by the Lar familiaris, the household god: ne quis miretur qui sim, paucis eloquar ‘in case anyone wonders who I am, I’ll explain briefly’. But we should also bear in mind that Pomponius was fond of using deponent verbs with active voice inflections. We have seen here the form expergisceret ‘he would wake up’. Elsewhere in Pomponius we find assentiant ‘they may agree’ (v. 167), com­ plectite ‘embrace’ (v. 48), conuiuant ‘they feast’ (v. 85), frustrarunt ‘they have deceived’ (v. 79), irascere ‘to be angry’ (infinitive not imperative, v. 30), and (last but not least) mirabis ‘you will be surprised’ (v. 108). Could it be then that Pomponius wrote not miraretur but miraret, an imperfect subjunctive of miror with an active inflection, just as he had written the future active form mirabis instead of the standard form miraberis? The line would still scan with miraret and it is possible to see why a scribe who did not understand iambic scansion or Pomponius’ idiosyncratic use of deponent verbs corrected miraret to miraretur: palaeographically this would have been easy. The title of this play is interesting because it refers to a person associated with tragedy, and already in 1897 Albrecht Dietrich had speculated that this fragment came from an Atellane drama which presented a comic version of the return of Agamemnon from Troy (perhaps deliberately alluding to Aeschylus’ play), and was staged as an ‘after-piece’, an exodium, immediately after the performance of Accius’ tragedy Clytaemestra. Frassinetti in 1967 agreed with this view but opted for Accius’ Atreus instead of the Clytaemestra. In the letter to Paetus, dated July 46 bc, that I mentioned earlier, Cicero (Ad fam. 9.16.7) implies that Atellane farces were traditionally performed after tragedies (this might explain the mythological content of some of them). If titles of plays are to be relied upon, then it is striking that mythological scenes (known from tragedy) seem to have featured frequently (and I suppose satirically) in the literary repertory of the Atellana: in addition to The False

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Agamemnon, the plays Ariadne [cited by Porphyrio on Horace’s AP 221], Atalanta [cited by Porphyrio], Sisyphus [cited by Porphyrio], Atreus [cited by Nonius], and The Dispute over the Armour [cited by Lactantius] are attributed to Pomponius, while Andromache [cited by Servius on Verg. G. 1.266], Eurysaces [cited by Nonius] and The Phoenician Women [cited by Festus] are attributed to Novius. But lexicographers and grammarians are notorious for making false attributions, and what complicates the editing process even further is that our sources for the fragments of Pomponius and Novius transmit also fragments of the Republican playwright Naevius, who composed both comedies in the style of the palliata and tragedies, and of the first century ad tragedian Pomponius Secundus, as well as fragments of plays of other playwrights, whose titles resemble the titles of plays attributed to the Atellane playwrights. When the variant readings nouius and neuius are attested in different manuscripts or in the same manuscript in different hands with reference to the name of the author of the same fragment, how should an editor decide to which playwright the fragment should be attributed? Quintilian, Tacitus, Pliny the Younger, Charisius, and Terentianus Maurus qualify the name Pomponius with the adjective Secundus to distinguish the tragic poet from the Atellane playwright, but Nonius does not do this.13 A good example of the confusion that can arise from this may be shown with reference to a fragment from a play probably entitled Atreus. I copy the text and the relevant part of the apparatus criticus from Markus Schauer’s recent edition, in which he attributes the fragment, unwisely in my opinion, to Pomponius Secundus.14 Non. 144,21–23 Merc. = 210 Li. (Li.): notificem, notam faciam. Pomponius Atreo: Atreus […] nunc te obsecro, (tr7) stirpem ut evolvas meorum que notifices mihi. Pomponius Atreo] Ald.: Pomponius […] Accius Atreo Mu. et Kl., qui ex Pomponi Atellana primum frustula, deinde Acci nomen excidisse putaverunt non approbante Ri.3: Pomponius […] Atreo On.: Pomp. Patruo propos. Li. in app. Welsh’s verdict on the authorship of the above fragment is somewhat different, and the reason why I finish my necessarily selective examination of editorial problems associated with Atellane comedy by quoting a substantial and thought-provoking part of Welsh’s analysis of the fragment is that he manages to re-dress and effectively shift the balance of the argument about the authorship of these lines towards the playwright Pomponius, without however being dogmatic about the attribution: The most significant argument adduced in favour of attributing this fragment to Pomponius Secundus or Accius, and not to the author of Atellan farce, is that the tone of the fragment suits tragedy better than it does farce. The loftier tone implicit in the syntax of nunc te obsecro | … ut has already been pointed out elsewhere …, and there is indeed a certain pomposity in the lan13 14

For the testimonia on, and the few fragments attributed to, Pomponius Secundus see M. Schauer (ed.), Tragicorum Romanorum Fragmenta, vol. I, Göttingen 2012, 158–161. Schauer, Fragmenta, 159.

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guage that is redolent of the language employed by republican tragedians. But it should also be noted that the tone of this fragment finds a counterpart in a fragment of Pomponius’ Armorum Iudicium (91–2): tum prae se portant ascendibilem semitam | quam scalam uocitant. Making allowances for farce’s ability to prick the balloon of its own paratragedy, one may also point to the language of fragments of Novius’ Andromache (4a-b), quod tu, mi gnate, quaeso ut in pectus tuum | demittas tamquam in fiscinam uindemitor, and of Pomponius’ Agamemno Suppositus (4–5) ne quis miretur, cum tam clare tonuerit, | ut, si quis dormitaret, expergisceret. Since Atellan farce no less than the other comic genres could ape the particular style of tragedy, it seems worth asking again why these words could not belong to a farcical script entitled Atreus.15

Why indeed? BIBLIOGRAPHY Adams J. N., The Latin Sexual Vocabulary, London 1982 Frassinetti P., Atellanae fabulae, Rome 1967 Oakley S. P., A Commentary on Livy Books VI—X, Oxford 1998 Panayotakis C., Decimus Laberius: The Fragments, Cambridge 2010 Panayotakis C., Roman laughter: native Italian drama and its influence on Plautus, in: M. Dinter (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Roman Comedy, Cambridge (forthcoming) Raffaelli R. and A. Tontini (ed.), L’Atellana Letteraria. Atti della Prima Giornata di Studi sull’Atellana, Urbino 2010 Raffaelli R. and A. Tontini (ed.), L’Atellana Preletteraria. Atti della Seconda Giornata di Studi sull’Atellana, Urbino 2013 Schauer M. (ed.), Tragicorum Romanorum Fragmenta, vol. I, Göttingen 2012 Squintu C., Le Atellane di Pomponio, Cagliari 2006 Welsh J., The methods of Nonius Marcellus’ sources 26, 27, and 28, in: CQ 62, 2012, 827–845 Welsh J., Some fragments of republican drama from Nonius Marcellus’ sources 26, 27 and 28, in: CQ 63, 2013, 253–276

15

For the discussion of the extract see Welsh, Fragments, 274–276; the citation comes from page 276.

6 WRITING AND DYING IN OVID’S HEROIDES: A CIXOUSEAN READING Write yourself: your body must make itself heard. (Cixous and Clément, Sorties, 97)

Charilaos N. Michalopoulos Abstract Ovid’s Heroides is a goldmine for the recuperation of feminine speech in Roman love elegy. The fifteen verse letters of the collection offer us the unique opportunity to listen to the otherwise suppressed voice of women in a genre whose dominant discourse belongs to the male lover poet. My paper investigates the representation of female desire through the heroines’ use of the motif of death. My emphasis is placed primarily, but not exclusively, on Canace’s letter (Her. 11). The heroines’ almost obsessive intersection of writing with dying gives away the corporeality of their écriture féminine, which is better understood through the theoretical work of Hélène Cixous on feminine speech. As it proves, the combination of love with death through the unusual mixture of ink with blood transforms the heroines’ erotic body into a writing surface suitable for the inscription of their bleeding desire. Book 3 of Ovid’s Ars amatoria opens with the poet’s open declaration of intent to make womens’ battle with men even (Ars 3.1–6).1 In the course of the book, the praeceptor amoris instructs the puellae in a variety of subjects covering a wide range of elementary and advanced erotodidactic teaching. Singing and playing musical instruments (Ars 3.311–328) combined with good knowledge of Greek and Roman poetry (Ars 3.329–348) feature among the most desirable female accomplishments. The poet’s catalogue of must-read poetic works2 is rounded off with a reference to his own amatory poetry, namely the Amores, the Heroides and the Ars amatoria… at hand!3 Regarding his Heroides Ovid makes a proud claim for nov1 2

3

Ov. Ars 3.1–6: Arma dedi Danais in Amazonas; arma supersunt / quae tibi dem et turmae, Penthesilea, tuae. / ite in bella pares; vincant, quibus alma Dione / faverit et toto qui volat orbe puer. / non erat armatis aequum concurrere nudas; / sic etiam vobis vincere turpe, viri. Ovid mentions the following poets: Callimachus, Philetas, Anacreon, Sappho, Menander, Propertius, Gallus, Tibullus, Varro and Vergil. For a concise discussion (content, arrangement, rhetorical function) of the catalogue see R. K. Gibson, Ovid Ars amatoria Book 3, edited with introduction and commentary, Cambridge, 230–1. Ov. Ars 3.341–6: atque aliquis dicet ‘nostri lege culta magistri / carmina, quis partes instruit ille duas: / deve tribus libris, titulus quos signat AMORUM, / elige, quod docili molliter ore legas: / vel tibi composita cantetur EPISTULA voce: / ignotum hoc aliis ille novavit opus’.

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elty and generic innovation (346 ignotum hoc aliis ille novavit opus) which has caused considerable dispute among scholars. Whether or not (and to what extent) Ovid was the first to invent the generic amalgam of the Heroides, in which features from other literary genres (i.e. declamation, ethopoeia, dramatic monologues, epigram, verse epistle) merge with Roman love elegy lies outside the scope of this paper.4 There are very few readers, however, who would deny that Ovid’s Heroides lies at the forefront of generic experimentation and poetic innovation in Augustan Rome. Ovid’s Heroides is a collection of fifteen epistolary poems in elegiacs supposedly written by aggrieved heroines of Greek and Roman mythology to their lovers who have in some way mistreated, ignored or abandoned them. The collection belongs to Roman love elegy, where the dominant discourse is that of the male lover-poet. The letters of the heroines seem to be offering us a glimpse in the female side of elegiac love, since women are now provided with the opportunity to voice their suppressed (if not entirely silenced) voice. Even so, one should always bear in mind that within this male-authored genre feminine speech should primarily be regarded ‘as the outcome of the male poet’s re-enactment of feminine voice according to the needs and constraints of his erotic rhetoric’5 and not as a direct reflection of female reality. Such an acknowledgment, however, does not necessarily mean that feminine speech is wiped off from the genre entirely. As it proves, Roman love elegy constitutes a fruitful gen(d)eric field, where the mediation of feminine speech by the male author does not necessarily eradicate its femininity.6 All the more so in the Heroides, where the male poet’s representation of female characters is hugely influenced by the rhetorical exercise of ethopoeia.7 Ovid through his enactment of a multiplicity of female roles constantly challenges the potential of voicing female desire within the male-prescribed discourse of Roman love elegy. The aim of this paper is to investigate the representation of female love in the Heroides through the heroines’ use of the motif of death. My emphasis will be placed primarily, but not exclusively, on Canace’s letter (Her.11) which offers a fine example of the intersection of writing with dying. I will approach Canace’s writing through the theoretical lens of Hélène Cixous, one of the most important representatives of French deconstrunctionist feminism.8 Her theoretical writing on the na4 5 6 7 8

See H. Jacobson, Ovid’s Heroides, Princeton 1974, 319–22; F. Spoth, Ovids Heroides als Elegien Munich 1992, 22–6; B.M.W. Knox, Ovid Heroides: Select Epistles, Cambridge 1995, 14–18. C. N. Michalopoulos, Feminine speech in Roman love elegy: Prop. 1.3, in: LICS 10.4, 2011: 1–14, 2. Cf. e.g. Cynthia’s first-person speech in Prop. 1.3. For a detailed examination of this speech in view of the male poet’s desire against Cynthia’s feminine subjectivity see Michalopoulos, Feminine speech, passim. For Ovid’s acquaintance with the rhetorical exercise of the ethopoeia see Jacobson, Ovid’s Heroides, 325–330; Knox, Ovid Heroides, 16. For instructive introductions to the theoretical pursuits of Cixous see M. Eagleton, Feminist Literary Theory. A Reader, Norwich 1986, 225–31 and eadem Working with Feminist Criticism, Cambridge, Massachusetts 1996, 146–55; S. Sellers (ed.), The Hélène Cixous Reader, with a preface by Hélène Cixous and foreword by Jacques Derrida, London 1994; C. Belsey

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ture and function of the écriture féminine has much to offer towards the recuperation of the feminine voice in Ovid’s Heroides. It is very likely that Ovid drew the material for Canace’s letter mainly from a now lost Euripidean play entitled Αἴολος, of which we posses only a few fragments.9 Judging from the surviving evidence, the story of Canace’s incestuous love affair with her brother must have been a popular one; hence, it is not unlikely that Ovid might have also used an (equally) influential version composed during the Hellenistic times (which nevertheless has not come down to us).10 A very general outline of Canace’s story is the following: Canace, one of the daughters of Aeolus, the king of the winds,11 is seduced by her brother Macareus and becomes pregnant.12 Canace manages to hide her pregnancy from her father by feigning some sickness. Macareus talks his father into marrying his daughters to his sons, but he is unfortunate in the draw. Aeolus’ response to the birth of Canace’s baby (ignorant as he is of the father’s identity) is to order the killing of the baby and send his daughter a sword to kill herself. In the meantime, Macareus discloses the truth to his father; he manages to appease him and then runs to Canace’s room to announce the good news. Too late. When he enters her chamber, Macareus finds Canace’s lifeless body, and then kills himself with the same sword. Canace, like most letter-writers in the collection,13 writes at a crucial moment of her life; only moments before she commits suicide. The criticality of the moment and the heroine’s emotional turmoil become evident in the abrupt opening of the

9 10

11 12

13

and J. Moore, The feminist reader: essays in gender and the politics of literary criticism, Basingstoke 1997, 101–16; T. Moi, Sexual/Textual Politics. Feminist Literary Theory, London 20022, 100–25. TrGF 5.1 Euripides ΑΙΟΛΟC frr. 13a-41 Kannicht. For the dispute over the dependence (or not) of Ovid’s Her. 11 on the Euripidean Aἴολος see A. Palmer, P. Ovidi Nasonis Heroides, with the Greek translation of Planudes [Completed by L. C. Purser], Hildesheim 1967 [=1898], 381; H. Jacobson, Ovid’s Heroides, 160–2; F. Verducci, Ovid’s Toyshop of the Heart: Epistulae Heroidum, Princeton, 198–204; G. Williams, Ovid’s Canace: Dramatic irony in Heroides 11, in: CQ 42, 1992, 201–209, esp. 201–6; Knox, Ovid Heroides, 257–8; J. Reeson, Ovid Heroides 11, 13 and 14. A Commentary, Leiden, Boston and Cologne 2001, 38; L. Fulkerson, The Ovidian Heroine as Author. Reading, Writing, and Community in the Heroides, Cambridge 2005, 68. The identification of Aeolus, king of Thessaly, with Aeolus, the Homeric king of the winds, is already present in the Euripidean Aἴολος (see Williams, Ovid’s Canace, 201–2). In the play’s summary (TrGF 5.1 Euripides ΑΙΟΛΟC Τest. ii Kannicht) the presence of διέφθειρεν, which means ‘rape’ but also ‘seduce’, makes the exact nature of the relationship between Canace and her brother rather unclear. Was Canace physically forced into this relationship or did she have her own share of responsibility? The verb ἔφθειρε also appears in ps-Plutarch’s account of Sostratus’ Tyrrhrenica ([Plut.] Parall. min. 28 A p.312 C, see TrGF 5.1 Euripides ΑΙΟΛΟC Τest. iii a (2) Kannicht). However, Stobaeus in his summary of Sostratus’ work is more explicit using ἐβιάσατο (see TrGF 5.1 Euripides ΑΙΟΛΟC Τest. iii a (1) Kannicht). In her letter, Canace seems to be voicing a reciprocated love, which in all probability constitutes Ovid’s subversive twist on the myth. For more on this see Jacobson, Ovid’s Heroides, 162–3; Fulkerson, The Ovidian Heroine, 68 with nn. 5–6. For the text of the Heroides I am using the 1977 Loeb edition by G. Showerman (revised by G. P. Goold).

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letter which fails to comply with the conventions of Roman letter-writing.14 An ordinary opening of a Roman letter usually comprised the name of the sender, the name of the addressee and a short, often abbreviated, phrase of salutation.15 Canace’s letter, instead, has no salutation and the identity of the correspondents is withheld until the readers reach the third couplet.16 The urgency of Canace’s situation leaves no time or space for any epistolary formalities. The opening lines set the tone for the whole letter by casting a shadow of death. Canace is precariously lingering between life and death, between redemption and self-loss. She is essentially struggling between writing and dying, as she holds the pen on her right hand, and the lethal sword (sent by her father) on the left one. The in-between space is taken up by the half rolled paper of her letter (4 iacet in gremio charta soluta meo) which is thus perceived as a space of confrontation and struggle between love and death. Canace’s reference to her blood-stains that will mar the writing surface of her letter (1–2 Siqua tamen caecis errabunt scripta lituris, / oblitus a dominae caede libellus erit) is multifunctional. Firstly, it draws attention to the letter not only as text, but also as a tangible real object.17 For Canace’s strategy of persuasion the physical appearance of the letter proves to be equally important with the message it carries. Canace fantasizes Macareus (i.e. the internal recipient of her letter) having difficulties reading her letter, deformed as it will be by her bloodstains. In complete contrast with the internal recipient, the readers (i.e. the external recipients of the letter) have no trouble at all reading a printed text on a clear page.18 The irony from the comparison of these two very different reading experiences further underscores the physicality of Canace’s letter. Secondly, Canace’s reference to her bloodstains gives away the corporeality of her écriture féminine. Canace writes in ink and blood.19 The pen (3 calamum) and 14 15 16

17 18 19

Verducci, Ovid’s Toyshop distances herself from the almost unanimously positive appraisal of Canace’s letter. She offers, instead, a highly critical -if not deprecatory- account of what she considers to be ‘Ovid’s richest venture in the fascination of the banal’ (207). See C. N. Michalopoulos, Ovid Heroides 4 and 8. A Commentary with introduction, PhD Diss. Leeds. 2006, 7 n.11. For other examples in the collection of adaptations of the conventional epistolary salutation see e.g. Her. 1.1–2, 4.1–2, 13.1–2, 16.1–2, 18.1–2. Ov. Her. 11.1–6: Siqua tamen caecis errabunt scripta lituris, / oblitus a dominae caede libellus erit. / dextra tenet calamum, strictum tenet altera ferrum, / et iacet in gremio charta soluta meo. / haec est Aeolidos fratri scribentis imago; / sic videor duro posse placere patri. Knox, Ovid Heroides on Her. 11.1–6 excises the couplet transmitted in some late manuscripts before lines 1–2 (‘Aeolis Aeolidae quam non habet ipsa salute / mittit et armata verba notate manu’). On the contrary, Reeson, Ovid Heroides, 39–40 prints the couplet which he considers to be genuine. The Heroides show a particular concern for various formal aspects of their letters. For this see the excellent discussion by J. Farrell, Reading and writing the Heroides, in: HSCP 98, 1998, 307–38, 334–6. For the distinction between the ‘internal’ and ‘external’ recipient/reader of each letter in the collection see D. F. Kennedy, Epistolarity: the Heroides, in The Cambridge Companion to Ovid, Cambridge 2002, 217–232, 221–2. For feminine writing with blood and the consequent intersection of the female body with the text see S. Gubar, ‘The Blank Page’ and the Issues of Female Creativity, in: Critical Inquiry 7,

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the sword (3 ferrum) become in her hands two interchangeable means of inscription: of love and death, respectively. The sword will inscribe death on Canace’s body, just like the pen will inscribe her erotic words on the unwritten surface of her letter. From this viewpoint, the heroine’s body coincides with her text, while the inscription of erotic desire in the letter effectively postpones (at least for as long as it lasts) the inscription of death on her body.20 The association of the heroine’s body with her letter is further strengthened by the widely used in Latin literature metaphorical use of sharp-ended weapons (especially the knife and the sword) for penis.21 Let us not forget also that the δέλτος, i.e. the letter, was a widely used metaphor for the female body in classical antiquity.22 It becomes clear that Canace’s feminine speech differentiates and diverts from the poet’s male speech, as she is not simply expressing her elegiac complaints, but also manages to transfer a part of her (corporeal) self with these complaints. Her letter is transformed into a space, where her corporeality meets the textuality of her erotic desire. Love, writing and death form an inexplicable mixture on the surface of Canace’s letter roll, as her bloodstains mixed with her tears ultimately make the text of the letter ineligible. The visual and aural similarity of the terms littera (letter) και litura (blot, erasure) further adds to the connection between writing, weeping and bleeding.23 Canace’s feminine writing is an erotic writing with an irrevocable deadly content. After all, Canace’s letter is a suicide note! Canace is not the only heroine in the collection obsessed with the smeared text of her letter. Briseis24 and Sappho25 writing to Achilles and Phaon respectively show similar concerns for bloodstains and tear blots that make their letters hard to read. As it turns out, in the Heroides the intersection of corporeality with textuality receives such an importance that the heroines do not hesitate to imagine the stains of tears in the text, even when the tears are not there. A telling example of such fixation is Phaedra who concludes her letter to Hippolytus by urging him to visualize her tears among her words.26 In the collection, tears prove to be much more

20 21 22 23 24 25 26

1981, 243–63, 247–62; L. S. Kauffman, Discourses of desire: gender, genre, and epistolary fictions, Ithaca 1986, 37, 58–9, 152. Cf. Kauffman, Discourses of desire, 37 “for ‘to write’ becomes synonymous with ‘to live’”, 58 ‘the act of writing is a continual deferral of death.’ See J. N. Adams, The Latin sexual vocabulary, London 1982, 19–21. P. DuBois, Sowing the body: Psychoanalysis and Ancient Representations of Women, Chicago and London 1988, 130–66. Farrell, Reading and writing, 336 with n. 58. Ov. Her. 3.1–4: Quam legis, a rapta Briseide littera venit, / vix bene barbarica Graeca notata manu. / quascumque adspicies, lacrimae fecere lituras; / sed tamen et lacrimae pondera vocis habent. Note also the play with littera and litura. Ov. Her. 15. 97–8: scribimus, et lacrimis oculi rorantur obortis; / adspice, quam sit in hoc multa litura loco! Ov. Her. 4.175–6: addimus his precibus lacrimas quoque; verba precantis / qui legis, et lacri­ mas finge videre meas! with Michalopoulos, Ovid Heroides ad loc. for tears as means of erotic persuasion in Roman love elegy. It is very likely that Ovid borrowed the motif of tear blots smudging the written text of the letter from Propertius and more precisely from the opening lines of Arethusa’s versed letter to Lycotas, her absent husband (Prop. 4.3.3–4: si qua tamen tibi lecturo pars oblita derit, / haec erit e lacrimis facta litura meis). See Verducci, Ovid’s Toyshop,

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than mere indications of physical and emotional pain. Briseis proudly states at the opening of her letter that ‘tears too have none the less the weight of words’27 thus offering to her bodily speech precedence over the written text of her letter.28 It is exactly this priority of the corporeal feminine alphabet (written in blood and tears) over the conventional male alphabet (written in ink) which brings Canace and many others of the female letter-writers in the collection, close to the theoretical agenda of Hélène Cixous on feminine writing. Since the early 1970s Cixous in her own idiosyncratic style claimed corporeality as a hallmark and at the same time as a liberating force of the écriture féminine against the predominance of the male discourse. For Cixous feminine writing coincides with female body (and vice versa). She writes in the Sorties:29 ‘Woman must write her body, must make up the unimpeded tongue that bursts partitions, classes, and rhetorics, orders and codes, must inundate, run through, go beyond the discourse with its last reserves (…) In body/Still more: woman is body more than man is. Because he is invited to social success, to sublimation. More body hence more writing.’30 ‘This bodily writing made of the woman’s carnal alphabet will make her overcome all restrictions and prohibitions and claim her own place, her own voice within the asphyxiating constraints of the (social and literary) phallogocentric canon. The female body speaks and the woman inscribes her speech with her ‘passionate body-words’.31 Feminine writing is understood by Cixous primarily as an act of resistance and liberation. In her own words: “A feminine text cannot be more than subversive: if it writes itself it is in volcanic heaving of the old ‘real’ property crust. In ceaseless displacement. She must write herself because, when the time comes for her liber-

27 28

29

30

31

208–9; A. Barchiesi, Epistulae Heroidum on Her. 3.3–4 with bibliography ad loc.; Knox, Ovid Heroides on Her. 11.1–6. Ov. Her. 3.4: sed tamen et lacrimae pondera vocis habent. Ovid re-employs the intersection of corporeality with epistolary textuality in his Metamorphoses. In yet another story of incest, Byblis seals the erotic letter she sends to her brother, Caunus, with her signet ring which is maddened with her tears (Met. 9.566–7: protinus inpressa signat sua crimina gemma, / quam tinxit lacrimis (linguam defecerat umor)). Cf. also Ovid’s reference to tear blots on the writing surface of the book he sends back to Rome in Trist.1.1.13–4: neve liturarum pudeat. qui viderit illas, / de lacrimis factas sentiat esse meis. Τhe text Sorties (translated in English as Sorties: Out and Out: Attacks/Ways Out/Forays) is contained in La Jeune Née (The Newly Born Woman) co-authored with Catherine Clément and published in 1975. All references are given to the 1996 edition of the text by I. B. Tauris Publishers. Cixous and Clément, Sorties, 94–5. See also Cixous and Clément, Sorties: 92 “Listen to a woman speak in a gathering (if she is not painfully out of breath): she doesn’t ‘speak’, she throws her trembling body into the air, she lets herself go, she flies, she goes completely into her voice, she vitally defends the ‘the logic’ of her discourse with her body: her flesh speaks true. She exposes herself. Really she makes what she thinks materialize carnally, she conveys meaning with her body. She inscribes what she is saying because she does not deny unconscious drives the unmanageable part they play in speech” [her emphasis], 93 ‘Text, my body’, 95 ‘Those wonderful hysterics, who subjected Freud to so many voluptuous moments too shameful to mention, bombarding his mosaic statue/law of Moses with their carnal, passionate body-words, haunting him with their inaudible thundering denunciations, were more than just naked beneath their seven veils of modesty – they were dazzling’. Cixous and Clément, Sorties, 95.

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ation, it is the invention of a new, insurgent writing that will allow her to put the breaks and indispensable changes into effect in her history. At first, individually, on two inseparable levels: – woman, writing herself, will go back to this body that has been worse than confiscated, a body replaced with a disturbing stranger, sick or dead, who so often is bad influence, the cause, the place of inhibitions. By censuring the body, breath and speech are censored at the same time.”32 Canace’s écriture féminine is a writing of resistance, as she struggles in her letter against two dynastic father-figures.33 Within the story, Canace in her attempt to stand up to her erotic choice is fighting against Aeolus, her physical father. On a metaliterary level, Canace in an attempt to voice her own feminine desire against the poet’s male speech, who is after all the creator of the collection, is effectively fighting against Ovid, her literary father. Canace’s carnal alphabet, or to put it in a Cixousean way, Canace’s ‘blood-words’ are a testimony to her attempt to make her (suppressed) feminine speech heard. Canace’s letter can be read and should be read as a realization of Cixous’ prompt: ‘Write yourself: your body must make itself heard.’34 Canace’s fragile lingering between life and death is repeated almost identically in Dido’s letter to Aeneas (Her. 7). Dido too writes at the verge of committing suicide, as a result of her abandonment by Aeneas, her beloved. Like Canace,35 Dido also composes her letter while holding the sword left behind by Aeneas.36 The verbal and thematic similarity between the two letters gives away their intra-textual complementarity.37 Their closeness is further strengthened by the poet’s use of variatio which aims at similarity through differentiation. Canace’s letter roll is replaced by Aeneas’ sword on Dido’s and Canace’s reference to the bloodstains on the letter’s writing surface is replaced by Dido’s reference to her mixed bodily fluids (tears and blood) on Aeneas’ sword. The sword by substituting for the letter roll changes from a lethal weapon inappropriate for a woman’s hand to a writing surface suitable for the inscription of female desire. 38 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Cixous and Clément, Sorties, 97 (her emphases). Pace Verducci, Ovid’s Toyshop, 211 who contends that ‘Canace is passive, not daring; submissive, not frightened.’ She finds her ‘at best a passive accomplice in the action, at worst an uncomprehending victim of it’ (234). Cixous and Clément, Sorties, 97. Or perhaps Canace, like Dido! Ov. Her. 7.181–6: si minus, est animus nobis effundere vitam; / in me crudelis non potes esse diu. / adspicias utinam, quae sit scribentis imago! / scribimus, et gremio Troicus ensis adest, / perque genas lacrimae strictum labuntur in ensem, / qui iam pro lacrimis sanguine tinctus erit. Cf. Ov. Her. 7.183: adspicias utinam, quae sit scribentis imago! ~ Her. 11.5 haec est Aeolidos fratri scribentis imago, Her. 7.184: scribimus, et gremio Troicus ensis adest ~ Her. 11.4 et iacet in gremio charta soluta meo. In the Heroides, apart from Canace (Her. 11.19–20: num minus infestum, funebria munera, ferrum / feminea teneo, non mea tela, manu?), Hypermestra also makes complaints for the unsuitability of her female hand to hold the sword, a male weapon par excellence (Her. 14. 55–6: femina sum et virgo, natura mitis et annis; / non faciunt molles ad fera tela manus, 65– 66: quid mihi cum ferro? quo bellica tela puellae? / aptior est digitis lana colusque meis. Fulkerson, The Ovidian Heroine, 67–86, esp. 79–82 makes an interesting case for the complementarity of these two letters.

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The ominous shadow of death haunts Canace throughout letter. From the metonymic use of caede for her blood at the opening couplet through her attempted abortion (lines 39–44), her imagined lament over her dead child (lines 107–118) and her vision of her own corpse (lines 119–128) Canace’s preoccupation with death strikes a sentimental, yet calm and dignified note.39 Even during the birth of her child Canace, instead of having by her side Lucina, the Roman goddess of birth, she finds herself surrounded by fear, shame and death.40 This absurd combination of life and death or to be more precise the attendance of death to the beginnings of life can hardly be missed out. Only moments after she gives life, Canace loses the life of both her baby and her own. She comes eye to eye with death (55 mors erat ante oculos); she would even pronounce herself dead, had it not been for her brother, Macareus, whose words of love brought her back to life (64 mortua, crede mihi, tamen ad tua verba revixi). A similar instance of Canace’s prefigured death can be found near the opening of the letter, where she describes her imminent suicide as a work of art examined by the eyes of her cruel father.41 Her use of the epistolary pluperfect (10 spectasset) ‘offer[s] an image of herself already dead’.42 So, Canace, it seems, is dead long before her father provides her with the lethal sword. It is highly ironic, but Macareus, despite his agonizing attempts to appease their father, will eventually fail to save the life of an already… dead (emotionally and physically) sister! Canace is not dependent only on her brother, but also on her father. Aeolus’ figure dominates her life to such a degree that her letter seems to be addressed to him rather than to Macareus.43 Aeolus not only sits at the centre of the royal court (65 media sedet Aeolus aula); but more importantly, he possesses a central space in Canace’s mind as an all-seeing, all-knowing authoritarian figure exerting his absolute and exhausting control over her. The king-father is everywhere in the letter.44 Canace’s life revolves around him. Never does she call herself by name; instead, she uses her patronymic Aeolis (lines 5 and 34). As Jacobson shrewdly remarks, ‘Canace is so dominated by thoughts of her father that she can scarcely see herself as more than an extension of him.’45 39 40

41 42 43 44 45

Jacobson, Ovid’s Heroides, 172–3 offers a detailed account of Canace’s obsession with death, which, so he contends, is an important part of her character. Ov. Her. 11.51–6: quid faciam infelix? gemitus dolor edere cogit, / sed timor et nutrix et pudor ipse vetant. / contineo gemitus elapsaque verba reprendo / et cogor lacrimas conbibere ipsa meas. / mors erat ante oculos, et opem Lucina negabat– / et grave, si morerer, mors quoque crimen erat. Ov. Her. 11.7–10: ipse necis cuperem nostrae spectator adesset, / auctorisque oculis exigeretur opus! / ut ferus est multoque suis truculentior Euris, / spectasset siccis vulnera nostra genis. Jacobson, Ovid’s Heroides, 172–3. For Aeolus as the ultimate recipient of the letter and for his central role in Canace’s letter see Jacobson, Ovid’s Heroides, 166–8; Verducci, Ovid’s Toyshop, 209–10; Fulkerson, The Ovidian Heroine, 70–2. See Jacobson, Ovid’s Heroides, 166–7. Unfortunately, Jacobson has got his maths wrong: the noun pater appears five times (not nine), the adjective patrius appears once (not twice). Also add the adjective paternus which appears once and the patronymic Aeolis which appears twice. Jacobson, Ovid’s Heroides, 167.

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Still, for Canace death does not necessarily mean cancellation, annulment or failure. On the contrary, the heroine struggles to manipulate her obsession with death towards the reconstitution of her vexed relationship both with her father and her brother. At the beginning of her letter Canace depicts herself as a dead(ly) letter-writer holding the pen on her right and the sword on her left hand, so as to please her hard-hearted father (6 duro posse placere patri). 46 She even expresses the wish that her father would be present to watch her die!47 Equally absurd sounds her wish that her erotic union with Macareus would have taken place after her death.48 In her troubled mind, death becomes a utopia, where the union with her loved-ones can at last happen against all prohibitions of the real world. Canace confronts her imminent death with courage, and at the same time it is her erotic desire that drives her will for life away. Death ultimately becomes a necessary stage of transition, an unusual self-consuming rite de passage towards the fantasy of her union with Macareus. In her letter Canace is constantly and precariously lingering between love and death. Trapped as she finds herself between two authoritarian male figures of her life (her father and her brother/lover), she succeeds in finding her own voice and communicating her erotic desire through the lethal combination of the pen with the sword. Her écriture féminine is essentially a bodily writing, which challenges (male) restriction, order and authority (erotic and/or poetic). Her carnal alphabet, a strange mixture of ink with blood, ultimately transforms her erotic body into a writing surface suitable for the inscription of her bleeding ‘body-words’.49 BIBLIOGRAPHY Adams J. N., The Latin sexual vocabulary, London 1982 Barchiesi A., Epistulae Heroidum 1–3, Florence Belsey, C. and Moore, J. (eds.), The feminist reader: essays in gender and the politics of literary criticism, Basingstoke 1997 Casali, S.,Tragic Irony in Ovid, Heroides 9 and 11, in: CQ 45, 1995, 505–11

46 47 48

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Ov. Her. 11.3–5: dextra tenet calamum, strictum tenet altera ferrum, / et iacet in gremio charta soluto meo. / haec est Aeolidos fratri scribentis imago. For the ironic twist offered to line 7 (ipse necis cuperem nostrae spectator adesset) through the intertextual allusion to Verg. Aen. 10.443 (…cuperem ipse parens spectator adesset) see Williams, Ovid’s Canace, 207–8. Ov. Her. 11.21–2: ο utinam, Macareu, quae nos commisit in unum, / venisset leto serior hora meo! Verducci, Ovid’s Toyshop, 210–11 finds these exclamations rigid and emotionally cold: ‘In Ovid’s other treatments of incestuous women, such sentiments are usually prefatory to lavish amplification and appraisal. With Canace they open and close the subject of incest with epigrammatic yet euphemistic brevity. They seem merely de rigeur. What concerns her is not her own incestuous motivation but the consequence of it: leto meo.’ A preliminary version of this paper was read at the 3rd International Conference on Hellenic Civilization: ‘Representations of Women in the Work of Male Artists of the Mediterranean’ (Corfu 2010). Acknowledgements are owed to the members of that audience for helpful comments and suggestions.

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–, Ovid’s Canace and Euripides’ Aeolus: Two Notes on Heroides 11, in: Mnemosyne 51, 1998, 700–10 Cixous, H. and Clément, C., The Newly Born Woman, translation by Betsy Wing; introduction by Sandra M. Gilbert, London 1996 DuBois, P., Sowing the body: Psychoanalysis and Ancient Representations of Women, Chicago and London 1988 Dutsch, D. M., Feminine Discourse in Roman Comedy: on echoes and voices. Oxford and New York 2008 Eagleton, M., Feminist Literary Theory. A Reader, Norwich 1986 –, Working with Feminist Criticism, Cambridge, Massachusetts 1996 Farrell, J., Reading and writing the Heroides, in: HSCP 98, 1998, 307–38 Fulkerson, L., The Ovidian Heroine as Author. Reading, Writing, and Community in the Heroides, Cambridge 2005 Gibson, R. K., Ovid Ars amatoria Book 3, edited with introduction and commentary, Cambridge Gubar, S., ‘The Blank Page’ and the Issues of Female Creativity, in: Critical Inquiry 7, 1981, 243–63 Jacobson, H., Ovid’s Heroides, Princeton 1974 Kauffman, L. S., Discourses of desire: gender, genre, and epistolary fictions, Ithaca 1986 Kennedy, D. F., Epistolarity: the Heroides, in The Cambridge Companion to Ovid, Cambridge 2002, 217–232 Knox, B. M. W., Ovid Heroides: Select Epistles, Cambridge 1995 Michalopoulos, C. N., Ovid Heroides 4 and 8. A Commentary with introduction, PhD Diss. Leeds. 2006 –, Feminine speech in Roman love elegy: Prop. 1.3, in: LICS 10.4: 1–14 Moi, T., Sexual/Textual Politics. Feminist Literary Theory, London 2002 Palmer, A., P. Ovidi Nasonis Heroides, with the Greek translation of Planudes [Completed by L. C. Purser], Hildesheim 1967 [=1898] Reeson, J., Ovid Heroides 11, 13 and 14. A Commentary, Leiden, Boston and Cologne 2001 Sellers, S. (ed.), The Hélène Cixous Reader, with a preface by Hélène Cixous and foreword by Jacques Derrida, London 1994 Showerman, G. (ed.) (1977), Ovid. Heroides and Amores, with an English translation, revised by G. P. Goold, Cambridge, Massachusetts 1977 Spoth, F., Ovids Heroides als Elegien (Zetemata 89), Munich 1992 Snell B., Kannicht R., Radt S. (eds.) (1971–1999). Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, vols. 1–4, Gottingen, 1971–1999 Verducci, F., Ovid’s Toyshop of the Heart: Epistulae Heroidum, Princeton 1985 Williams, G., Ovid’s Canace: Dramatic irony in Heroides 11, in: CQ 42, 1992, 201–209

7 CASES OF LINK BETWEEN HYPSIPYLE’S AND MEDEA’S EPISTLES TO JASON (OV. EPIST. 6 AND 12) Vaios Vaiopoulos Abstract This article continues a wider study of the intertextual complementarity of two Ovidian letters (other aspects of the same issue are presented in my article, Mediterranean Studies 21.2, 2013, 122–148), supposedly written by Hypsipyle (Ov. Her. 6) and Medea (Ov. Her. 12). In this framework it examines a few cases in which Hypsipyle’s and Medea’s epistles seem to ‘communicate’: the two heroines’ jealous reactions against Jason; the fact that Medea succeeded Hypsipyle in the position of the abandoned wife; the way the two women deconstruct Jason’s heroic identity; the way Medea answers to Hypsipyle emphasizing on her naïveté and silencing all the Lemnian’s accusations against her for sorcery and killings. This paper will indicatively present some cases in which Hypsipyle’s and Medea’s epistles (Ov. Epist. 6 and 12) to Jason, seem to ‘communicate’. These two fictitious letters offer a unique basis for comparative reading as they have, unlike the rest of the Epistulae, the same man as their hypothetical recipient.1 In particular, Hypsipyle’s portrayal of Medea in the sixth epistle, in contrast with Medea’s self-portrayal in the twelfth epistle, apart from the potentially dramatic aspects that the Colchian’s figure inevitably possesses, sheds light on the mechanisms that activate human subjectivity in all its extent and manifestations: not only does the poet not try to cover or mask the two ‘subjectivities’, that of Hypsipyle and that of Medea, but he also exposes them in a flagrant way. It can arguably be assumed that the poet has consciously avoided projecting a unifying, integrating ‘objective’ truth2 for the myth; he seems rather to present those epistles ready for comparative consideration by the reader.3 Ovid’s Epistulae is a collection of poems, which in the past had been strongly criticized for being monotonous and repetitious, yet in the last decades it has greatly attracted the attention of scholars and also given rise to brilliant approaches. Among the new elements brought by the so called Heroides or Epistulae Heroidum into light, is the lyrical-elegiac passion of an abandoned woman who, in an earlier stage 1 2 3

Cf. G. Rosati, Ovidio. Lettere di Eroine. Introduzione, traduzione e note. Testo latino a fronte, Milano 1989, 8–9. Cf. Rosati, Ovidio. Lettere di Eroine, 8. Cf. M. Scordilis Brownlee, Ovid’s Heroides and the Novela Sentimental, Princeton 1990, 31.

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of her literary existence, was either a main or a secondary character in tragedy or epic. Personages known from ‘serious’ literary genres such as epic and tragedy are dressed in elegiac costumes. The reader’s interest arises from the parallel study of their words and deeds in different textual environments: the archaic or the ‘modern’ (Hellenistic or Roman) epic, tragedy, and ultimately the elegiac epistle. The modern interpreter’s knowledge of the intertext leaves plenty of room for the creation of irony, since the informed reader is in a position to interpret even the most subtle hint that each elegiac epistle allows or deliberately creates: more often than not, the heroine is reported to say one thing, while the reader is able or encouraged to understand another. Likewise, the writer of the letter seems to be addressing one particular person, yet the addressees are more than one. This irony is based on the knowledge of the wider literary tradition relevant to each heroine; among other things, it allows not only the heroine’s voice, through which the poet expresses himself,4 to be clearly heard, but also his own. This is because the nature of the genre makes it impossible for the poet to directly intervene and present the unfolding of the events in whole.5 It could be added that this irony, depending on the text that constitutes the literary background of each letter and the ending of each story, sometimes possesses tragic implications: these implications are placed, however, outside the literary time of each letter, as in the case of Medea, Phaedra or Laodamia. And other times irony possesses a liberating-redemptive power for the usually sympathizing reader, as in the case of Penelope or Ariadne.6 In particular, the factor that generates this irony is actually our knowledge in relation to the course of events that the fictitious writer of each letter seems to ignore.7 This, at least supposedly overall perspective that the reader holds, allows him/her to go beyond the highly subjective consideration presented in each elegiac monologue; thus, it undermines in advance the arguments put forward (with seemingly great seriousness). It also diminishes this exact seriousness of tone in the epistles or the authenticity of their authors’ lament. Seen exclusively through the prism of the collection, each of Ovid’s Epistulae seems to systematically and point by point undermine the plausibility, and at times even the seriousness, of their own words. This becomes particularly obvious in the pair of epistles studied in the paper. The heroines’ monologues, on the one hand, appear to be conflicting even when they reach the same conclusion and put forward the same theoretically high ‘moral values’ and commonplace axioms of ‘bio-theoretical gravity’. Let us also note that Ovid himself has fostered the meta-poetic reflection in his readers. ‘His’ female characters appear to be commenting on each other; they prompt comparisons and reveal the extent to which the poet sets out subjective viewpoints which are, to a great degree, conflicting and mutually refuting (and, at the same time, mutually complementary). Those views are in relation to love, in general, the sufferings 4 5 6 7

Cf. F. Bessone, P. Ovidii Nasonis. Heroidum Epistula XII. Medea Iasoni, Firenze 1997, 11. Cf. Rosati, Ovidio. Lettere di Eroine, 11. Cf. E. Salvadori, Publio Ovidio Nasone. Eroidi, introduzione, traduzione e note, Milano 1996, XIII–XIV. Cf. R. Armstrong, Ovid and His Love Poetry, London 2005, 48.

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caused by it, and, at times, they concern the mythical event itself.8 This remark is also confirmed by the pair of epistles that prompted most of the thoughts presented here (Epist. 6 and 12). On the other hand, there are many underlying contradictions in each individual monologue, as a development in mood, tone and aim also takes place within them: for within each letter a circular pattern is made visible: the heroines originally ask for mutual love, then express hatred, then despair followed by rekindled hope, and so on,9 as it usually happens, to the point it ultimately becomes a convention, in elegiac compositions in general. So, contradiction comes out not only from comparative analysis of the two letters discussed, but also from the study of each epistle separately. 7.1 JEALOUS REACTIONS 7.1.1 Genus humile The heroines’ reactions in epistles 6 and 12, upon seeing a rival, illustrate seemingly accidental (for them, but not for the reader) similarities that reinforce the connection between them. Neither of them shows intention of avoiding verbal exaggerations that clearly go against the seriousness of tone in other literary genres that had been concerned with the same plotline in the past. Hypsipyle would not be able to restrain her rage, if she ever met Medea: she would cover the Colchian’s face with blood, she would become ‘a Medea to Medea’.10 In the same spirit, Medea says that she barely restrains herself from attacking Jason and shouting ‘He is mine!’, as he and his new wife walk side by side during the wedding procession.11 Hypsipyle’s curses directed at Medea come right after her lament and complaints against Jason.12 Medea’s lament and final desperate plea to Jason, begging 8 9 10

11 12

In Epist. 5, 16, 17, 19.177–178, 20.49, for example, the same love affair, that of Helen with Paris, is seen through the eyes of Oenone, Paris, Helen, Hero and Acontius. Cf. Brownlee, Ovid’s Heroides, 31. Epist. 6.149–151 paelicis ipsa meos inplessem sanguine vultus, / quosque veneficiis abstulit illa suis!/ Medeae Medea forem! [but as for your mistress–with my own hand I would have dashed my face with her blood, and your face, that she stole away with her poisonous arts! I would have been Medea to Medea!]. I am using the Latin text of Goold’s edition and Showerman’s Engish translation. Epist. 12.157–158 vix me continui, quin dilaniata capillos/ clamarem ‘meus est!’ iniceremque manus [I scarce could keep from crying out, with my hair all torn, “He is mine!” and laying hold on you]. Epist. 6.153 gemit Hypsipyle [Hypsipyle groans], 41–48 heu! ubi pacta fides? ubi conubialia iura/ faxque sub arsuros dignior ire rogos?/ non ego sum furto tibi cognita; pronuba Iuno/ adfuit et sertis tempora vinctus Hymen./ at mihi nec Iuno, nec Hymen, sed tristis Erinys/ prae­ tulit infaustas sanguinolenta faces./ Quid mihi cum Minyis, quid cum Dodonide pinu?/ quid tibi cum patria, navita Tiphy, mea? [alas! Where the bonds of wedlock, and the marriage torch, more fit to set ablaze my funeral pile? I was not made acquaint with you in stealthy wise; Juno was there to join us when we were wed, and Hymen, his temples bound with wreaths. And yet neither Juno nor Hymen, but gloomy Erinys, stained with blood, carried before me the unhal-

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him to come back to her even at the last minute, prevent the actual, violent attack on her rival. Hypsipyle’s curses are much fiercer than those of Medea directed at Creusa,13 making up for the Lemnian’s inability to ‘act’ violently, seemingly due to distance issues. But it is also probable that the Ovidian Hypsipyle needs, to make up in a way, because literary tradition before Ovid does not see any erotic abandonment in her case, while this dimension is explicit in Medea: the latter had already been established as an exemplary victim of erotic infidelity. In a way the two heroines are equated: whatever Hypsipyle lacks in pain because of erotic abandonment, she catches it up by exaggerating a little more in her wrath against Jason and his new wife. In the end the reader cannot discriminate what is the ‘real’ pain among all Heroidean complaints he/she has heard. So, both Hypsipyle’s and Medea’s complaints are expressed in the frame of a rather conventional generic need: both of them complain and protest out of a generic elegiac duty regardless how high their pain is, or how legitimate their demands and expectations are. If there is no real cause/effect relation between pain and reactions, it does not really matter whose curses and grieving are fiercer: Hypsipyle may sound more wounded than Medea, although her sufferings are much less serious than Medea’s, even according to her own words. The similarity and exaggeration that characterize the reactions of the two betrayed-by-the-same-man women has a comic and at the same time ironic effect, as the second heroine changes from the victimizer of the first into the love victim of the same man. The gradual transformation of the royal Hypsipyle into a vengeful ‘Medea’, whose curses14 are, of course, confirmed by what the reader knows, renders the analogies even more interesting. A comic hue tints the words, lament, curses and threats of Hypsipyle and Medea: both Hypsipyle’s epic dignity and Medea’s tragic vengefulness are converted into a behaviour typical of heartbroken women, quite common to the Roman everyday life of the poet’s era. This exaggeration in tone brings an ‘inferior’ aspect of both Hypsipyle and Medea to the surface: if Aristotle15 is right about the co-existence –to different extents– of two extremes/contradictory ‘properties’ (fairness-unfairness/justice-injustice, paltriness-magnificence) in every person, in this case we have the appearance to the foreground of a more humane, ‘earthy’ existence of these two personages, presented with royal costume or with a semi-divine identity in other genres. We used to have a more ‘serious’ picture of them based on their presence in tragedy and epic; now, in this collection, we have the contrast of this image of theirs to the one that was previously formed. The introduction of elements from everyday life

13

14 15

lowed torch. What had I with the Minyae, or Dodona’s pine? What had you with my native land, O helmsman Tiphys?], et passim. It is a de facto intrusion of magic into Hypsipyle’s epistle, since the heroine follows the ritual of the appeal to the gods of the Underworld, although she is directed to Jupiter. It is only the addressee that is different, all other elements of appeals to the Underworld’s gods remain. See J.-Cr. Jolivet, Allusion et fiction épistolaire dans les Héroïdes. Recherches sur l’intertextualité ovidienne, École Française de Rome 2001, 282. Epist. 6.153–164. EN 1137a.

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and colloquial discourse is what changes the weight of these hypotheses and renders them appropriate and suitable as material for the ‘lighter’ genre of elegy. 7.1.2 An ‘active’ letter The letters, with their narrative complementarity, provide (in the marge of dramatic action) a commentary on the story of Jason and the sufferings of his two ‘wives’; like all other letters of the same collection, they are, therefore, characterized by immutability/passivity, since they are not capable of altering the course of events, and function more or less as a comment on the development of events. In relation to Jason, they are prooved completely incapable of changing the hero’s mind and behaviour vis-à-vis the two fictitious authors of the epistles. Neither Hypsipyle nor Medea achieve anything through their letters, exactly as it happens with all the Epistulae Heroidum, even in the rare cases in which the stories have a happy end (e.g. in Penelope’s and Hypermestra’s cases). Nevertheless, in this particular epistolary pair of Epist. 6 and 12 we are given the impression that there is an etiologic connection between the Lemnian’s curse and Medea’s tragedy. Owing to this fact, Epist. 6 can easily be listed in the ‘active epistolary genre’, where letters constitute action and influence the narrative development the way all momentous events do: it seems that everything is going to happen as if epistle 6 had indeed exerted a real influence on the myth, contributing to the commencement of tragedy.16 The reader is under the momentary illusion that everything will turn out in a particular way for Medea because of the curses in the sixth letter. In Hypsipyle’s curses against Medea the reader will find in advance whatever Medea will be complaining of in the twelfth letter: abandonment, erotic betrayal, and pain caused by the same unfaithful man/husband; these are exactly the circumstances under which Medea will start composing her own letter to Jason. But, apart from that in Hypsipyle’s curses we have a preliminary idea of all Medea’s actions, crimes and sufferings that will follow after the hypothetical composition of the twelfth letter: loss of the two children, exile, escape through the air. Of those developments, known from the Euripidean play, only hints can be found in Medea’s letter, while Hypsipyle’s curses are more explixit. In this way, the sixth letter is momentarily considered as responsible not only for what Medea is suffering of at the very moment she is composing her epistle, but also for all her misfortunes (and Jason’s misfortunes) known from tragedy. In other words, the reader’s illusion, his/her involvement in deceit and self-deception is in this case based on the overall knowledge of the story that he or she possesses, which feeds this illusion thanks to his/her omniscience. Ovid himself relies on this omniscience in order to direct the reader to the desired result, and eventually determines his/her reactions, placing in this way his epistles in the ‘ac-

16

Jolivet, Allusion et fiction épistolaire dans les Héroïdes, 283.

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tive genre’; otherwise, his epistles bear no connection to one another and have no interaction and dialogue. Consequently, the doctus poeta is in need of the doctus reader to complete his work also in terms of its receptions, which the writer appears to control in a way that is unique: the reader appears to be omniscient, capable of perceiving this causeand-effect relationship that is built for the two letters. At the same time, if the reader is aware of the intertext and that this causal connection is one of Ovid’s innovations, he/she perceives both the ephemeral dimension and the depth of his/her illusion.17 7.1.3 One step before drama Discussing lovers’ reactions we can recall Epist. 5, when Oenone had a terrible experience very much like the one Medea had. She saw the worst fears of a mistress come true,18 the man she loved in the arms of another woman. She had, that is, Paris before her eyes with her rival, Helen of Troy.19 Medea’s experience, though, was even worse than Oenone’s, because in the twelfth letter picture is complemented by tormenting sound, that causes more pain and rage.20 Hypsipyle does not have her beloved’s infidelity before her eyes, like Medea and Oenone: she is informed about it only from the narration of her host. Her anger is not inferior to Oenone’s or to Medea’s rage though. 17

18 19

20

Within this framework it seems that the first epistle belongs to those not only ‘commenting on’ but also seriously ‘effecting on’ the development of the story; it is as if Medea’s misfortunes are the result of Hypsilyle’s curses. Cf. Jolivet, Allusion et fiction épistolaire dans les Héroïdes, 283, who mentions two types of the epistolary function, one active, dramatic and direct, and another considering the letters as a simple comment, in the merge of the incidental development. Cf. Epist. 19.101-104, where Hero is unreasonably afraid that her Leander might be in a pae­ lex’s arms. The same term (paelex) is also used in Epist. 5.60 in combination with the nunc alter fruitur motif, already known from Tibullus (Lenz-Galinsky) 1.5.17–18 Omnia persolvi: fruitur nunc alter amore,/ Et precibus felix utitur ille meis [I have paid in full: and now another enjoys my love, and, happy man, he makes use of my prayers’ fruits, my transl.]; in Epist. 6.73–75 this same motif takes an ironic character: the gods had listened to Hypsipyle’s prayers indeed; they sent Medea to help Jason. Juno’s presence becomes highly ironic in these circumstances. The goddess had witnessed Hypsipyle’s wedding, but she is at the same time the goddess protecting Jason during his adventures; for the elegiac Hypsipyle Juno is considered to be the guarantee of her marriage sacrity and stability, but in an epic context this same goddess stands by an epic hero, indifferent for probable ‘adjacent losses’, possible (elegiac) victims of love. Within this perspective the constant elegiac salvation motif (see for example Tib. 1.5, Prop. 2.28) is enriched with a higher intensity and dramatic irony reaching the point of comic; it is not only about elegiac Tibullus’ disillusionment, when he sees a rival enjoying the fruits of his own prayers; in this case the rival is identified with the ἰατρός. Epist. 12.137–140 ut subito nostras Hymen cantatus ad aures/ venit, et accenso lampades igne micant,/ tibiaque effundit socialia carmina vobis,/ at mihi funerea flebiliora tuba [when, all suddenly, there came to my ears the chant of Hymen, and to my eyes the gleam of blazing torches, and the pipe poured forth its notes, for you a wedding-strain, but for me a strain more tearful than the funeral trump].

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The nymph’s similarities to Medea (and Hypsipyle), apart from the fact that she was indirectly responsible for the death of her ex-beloved, also include a child she had with Paris.21 Children are potential weapon in the hands of abandonded women and could be used either for persuasion (as the Ovidian Hypsipyle and Medea do) or revenge (as the Euripidean Medea does).22 Yet, while being still within elegiac territory, the Ovidian Oenone’s reaction can also be described as elegiac, is similar to Hypsipyle’s and Medea’s, it is practically static: lament and curses.23 In none of these cases do we have development with transition to violence, action and (tragic or comic) ‘drama’. Hypsipyle has a good pretext for not refuging to violence: distance prohibits her to act violently, so she is permitted to be more violent in her words. Medea and Oenone, who are closer to their beloved ones, although pain becomes more intense because they have infidelity before their eyes, will spend enough time in mourning, complaining, hoping, before they do anything. Elegy systematically preserves outbreaks that are either tragic in form (because of their implications), or comic (because of the exaggeration they contain), in the field of intentions or declarations; in this way, elegy protects and is being protected against both the transition to the tragedy of infanticide or murder, and the shift to mime with a scene/act (actus) of a ‘catfight’. The (tragic) action/act/actus will come in due course, after the epistle has been completed, as it is foreshadowed with the word agit in the last line,24 but also implied in Epist. 12.207–208 quos equidem actutum–sed quid praedicere poenam/ attinet? ingentis parturit ira minas [whom, hark you, I will straight–but what boots it to foretell your penalty? My ire is in travail with mighty threats]. Medea’s discourse stops on two words loaded with rich meta-poetic value, as they both (actu­ tum, agit) allude to scenic action (actus), put through divine possession: this divine intervention, bringing tragic μανία, is declared in Epist. 12.211 viderit ista deus, qui nunc mea pectora versat! [Be that the concern of the god who now embroils my heart!], and constitutes a usual trait of tragic characters and poets. The last word of 21 22 23

24

Parth. 34 (Hercher). L. Fulkerson, The Ovidian Heroine as Author. Reading, Writing, and Community in the Heroides, Cambridge 2005, 64, L. Landolfi, Scribentis Imago. Eroine Ovidiane e Lamento Epistolare, Bologna 2000, 48 and 60 regarding Oenone’s similarities with Medea. Epist. 5.71-76 tunc vero rupique sinus et pectora planxi,/ et secui madidas ungue rigente genas,/ inplevique sacram querulis ululatibus Iden/ illuc has lacrimas in mea saxa tuli./ sic Helene doleat defectaque coniuge ploret,/ quaeque prior nobis intulit, ipsa ferat! [Then indeed did I rend my bosom and beat my breast, and with the hard nail furrowed my streaming cheeks, and filled holy Ida with wailing cries of lamentation; yonder to the rocks I love I bore my tears. So may Helen’s grief be, and so her lamentation on finding herself without a mate; and what she was first to bring on me may she herself endure!]. Cf. R. Alden Smith, Fantasy, Myth and Love Letters. Text and Tale in Ovid’s Heroides in: P. E. Knox (ed.), Oxford Readings in Ovid, Oxford 2006, 231, commenting on Epist. 5 and 12 and pointing out the specific motif of a rival’s presence, as both heroines see their beloved in another woman’s arms, which would be the worst nightmare a lover could have. The repetition of the motif confirms the nature of the Ovidian heroines, elegized as they are in this collection: the emotional intensity of similar scenes equates these personages with quaevis amantes, taking them away from their epic-tragic gravitas. Cf. Jolivet, Allusion et fiction épistolaire dans les Héroïdes, 279.

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an elegiac epistle marks the starting point of tragic action. All the same, this stop at the last minute also designs elegiac ἀμηχανία in surpassing its thematic limits.25 The avoidance of action/act and the reference to practices and actions which are fitting in tragedy and not elegy, is also underlined by the use of the figure of prae­ teritio (paraleipsis); this figure of speech is already found in Apollonius’ Argonau­ tica 4.247–50 (when the poet avoids to depict Hecate’s rites in detail).26 Ovid employs this technique both in Hypsipyle’s and in Medea’s letters: et quae nes­ cierim melius27 [and other deeds that it would be have been better not to know] says Hypsipyle; on the other hand Medea declares nescio quid certe mens mea maius agit!28 [I don’t know really what portentous thing moves my mind]. The heroines of the elegiac collection and the elegiac universe do indeed ignore, pretend, or feel it’s better to ignore practices and actions that belong in other genres. These are exactly the kind of practices and ways that the heroines will become acquainted with, when the ‘fulfilling’ of their literary destiny will make them protagonists in another genre: then, they will be in a state of action and alertness and not in a state of anticipation and complaint. Of course, everything takes place in absence of and unbeknown to the emblematic perfidus hospes Jason. The latter is ‘irresponsibly responsible’ for the pain and rage he caused to the female characters; but for now he does not act, he does not speak either; it is only by Hypsipyle’s and Medea’s letters that we know his words and deeds. He has not acquired his tragic role yet; we will see his actions and listen to his arrogant speech only within the framework of tragedy, and it will be only then, outside the field of elegy, that he will meet his tragic fate. Thus, the end of the twelfth epistle looks like a preliminary to further action, which will start in the Euripides’ Medea according to the last distich of Epist. 12,29 as if the Ovidian letter preceded the Euripidean play. Only that now, in Ovid’s epistle, the βούλευμα produced by Medea’s mind could or should also allude to poetic composition which would result to drama creation: is Medea advertising only 25 26

27 28 29

A. Barchiesi, Speaking Volumes. Narrative and Intertext in Ovid and Other Latin Poets, Edited and Translated by Matt Fox and Simone Marchesi, London 2001, 112, F. Spoth, Ovids Heroides als Elegien, München 1992, 202. See A. R. 1.648–649, another example of self-interruption, a practice usual in Hellenistic poetry, cf. D. F. S. Thomson, Catullus. Edited with a Textual and Interpretative Commentary, Toronto – Buffalo – London 1998, 408, also A. N. Michalopoulos, Fighting against a Witch: the Importance of Magic in Hypsipyle’s Letter to Jason (Ov., Epist. 6), in: MHNH 4, 2004, 109, stating that the paraleipsis of a full list of Medea’s magic feats lets the reader’s mind free to imagine a series of repulsive crimes, and the impression of the heroine’s criminal nature is strengthened. See also n. 89 and 90 for the magic feats Hypsipyle could potentially contain in her account if only the generic demands had been different. See for example A. R. 3.528–533, Theoc. 2.48–49, Arist. HA 572a, Verg. Ecl. 8.69–71, G. 3.280–283, Tib. 1.8.17–22, 2.4.55–58, Prop. 2.28.35, 3.6.25–26, 4.5.13–14, 17–18, Ov. Am. 1.8.7–18, 1.14.39–40, 2.1.23–26, Med. 37, 38, 39. Epist. 6.93. Epist. 12.212. See M. Lipka, Language in Vergil’s Eclogues, Berlin – New York 2001, 167, cf. 72 and 79, on the use of the epithet for the description of poetic height. Eur. Med. 37 δέδοικα δ’ αὐτὴν μή τι βουλεύσῃ νέον [I am afraid that she may think of something evil, Kovacs, my transl.].

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Ovid’s tragic ‘Medea’ to come? Or just reminding that drama and elegy have different and conflicting codes, and, thus the last distiches of Epist. 12 determine the frontiers and the passage from elegiac territory to dramatic action, after divine inspiration had worked in both Medea’s and the poet’s mind, the maius explicitly exploiting all innuendos offered by Vergil and Propertius?30 Moreover, a fully detailed enumeration of Medea’s powers would have resulted to a longer narratio, so the neoteric demand of brevity would have been neglected.31 So, both heroines follow the same way of expression; they practically interrupt narration, just like Hypermestra or Ariadne in the same collection. Their statements concern poetic art,32 yet always in relation to narration which is interrupted and constitutes only a short and brief break within the elegiac poem. If there is some truth in psychoanalytic criticism of classical literature33 suggesting that the maiden exists so as to help and support the male (e.g. Athena, Nausicaa, Ariadne while being still in Crete), whereas the mature woman/goddess is less helpful to man than the virgin (e.g. Calypso, Circe), and at times she is rendered dangerous (e.g. Harpyies and Sirens), especially if left alone,34 then Apollonius’ Medea as (still a) maiden meets the aforementioned criteria. She does that by functioning as an ally and indispensable aide for the male; she changes into Euripides’ Medea, when, a mature woman, she is left all alone and deprived of the man’s presence, and sexual intercourse, something which is absolutely necessary for her, as the ancient medical texts confirm. The cases of Hypsipyle and the Lemnians, and 30 31 32

33 34

See Verg. A. 7.44–45, Prop. 2.34.66 nescio quid maius nascitur Iliade [I don’t know what poem higher than the Iliad will rise, Goold, my transl.], cf. Barchiesi, Speaking Volumes, 113. See for example Call. Epigr. 28 (Pfeiffer), cf. V. Vaiopoulos, Hypermestra as seen by Ovid in Epist. 14, in: Eikasmos 20, 2009, 217, A. Cameron, Callimachus and his Critics, Princeton 1995, 394–399. Cf. Catul. 64.116–117 (Thomson) sed quid ego a primo digressus carmine plura/ commemorem [but why, turned aside from my first story, should I recount more, my transl.], the praeteritio (paraleipsis) used in the violent interruption of an epic digression (parekbasis), the epyllion of Ariadne and Theseus, embedded in Carmen 64, see L. Tromaras, Catulli Carmina. Introduction, Text, Translation, Commentary, Thessaloniki 2001, in Modern Greek, 479, Am. 3.6.101-104 Huic ego, vae! demens narrabam fluminum amores!/ iactasse indigne nomina tanta pudet./ nescio quem hunc spectans Acheloon et Inachon amnem/ et potui nomen, Nile, referre tuum! [to a stream like this–out upon it!–I was fool enough to tell of the loves of rivers! I shame to have uttered unworthily names so great. To think that, looking on this nothing of a stream, I could mention your names, Achelous and Inachus, and thine, O Nile! Transl. Showerman], the interruption of rivers’ catalogue, Epist. 14.109–110 ultima quid refero, quorum mihi cana senectus/ auctor? dant anni, quod querar, ecce, mei [why do I talk of far-off things, told me by hoary eld?], the abrupt interruption of ‘Io’s epyllion’. Cf. Verg. Ecl. 3.103, 8.108, Hor. S. 1.9 and Catul. 80.5, and Lipka’s (Language in Vergil’s Eclogues, 85, 138, 141), comment on the colloquial character of the expression. S. B. Pomeroy, Goddesses, Wives, Whores, and Slaves. Women in Classical Antiquity, New York 1995, 10. Medea and Clytemnestra, as well as Phaedra and Deianira are among the main examples that could support this viewpoint; Ariadne also becomes dangerous for Theseus (because of his curses) only after she has been abandoned in Dia/Naxos; even the non-virgin Danaides kill their husbands after they have been left alone and the latter literally ‘turn their backs on them’ after the drinking at the wedding and the exhaustion after sexual intercourse.

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also of the abandondoned-unwilling to help wounded Paris- Oenone reinforce the impression about the danger a mature woman may represent if abandonded. The constant reminder of Medea’s long-gone virginity in Epist. 12 –if Ovid unconsciously follows this distinction– suggestively points out future events while focusing on the past: Medea was renowned for her unscathed (and in fact beneficial in favour of Jason) nature and activity all the while she was at Colchis, when she was indeed an inexperienced virgin; she was also benefactory for Jason, as long as she remains on his side as a wife. But the fact that she has long ago been deprived of the earlier state of virginity and now risks to stop being a wife, leaves all options open for the future, when she steps out of elegy and is able to perform ‘maiora’? In any case, those maiora should wait until the elegiac epistle is over. Till then, only lament, curses, complaints, and possibly recognizable hints of the future tragic developments (and all this, on the condition that they are not too long) are accepted. 7.2 A SERIES OF DECEPTIONS The constant reminder that, in the chain of the exposed love liaisons in letters 12 and 6, Medea occupied the same position in Colchis as the one Creusa did in Corinth,35 further reinforces the link between letters 12 and 6. Each heroine are successively deceived by the same unfaithful man of whom they had been benefactors; this man is already seeking and eventually finds a new beloved with royal dowry, ready to be exploited. Medea was a princess in Colchis and she attracted Jason’s love in exchange for services that she would provide to him in the future taking him away from Hypsipyle, his previous mistress/benefactor; that is, she did exactly what Creusa did. She had been a ‘Creusa’ before Creusa. The Corinthian embodies similar expectations of future interest for the same opportunistic man taking him away from his previous mistress/benefactor, Medea. Consequently, the issue of Jason’s imminent marriage to Creusa is introduced in such a way that it also answers Hypsipyle’s accusations about Medea’s alchemistic abilities; these abilities are universally acknowledged as unethical, fraudulent or powerless as far as their application in love is concerned. Medea, according to Hypsipyle, has unethically used magic in love, thus succeeding in taking Jason away from Hypsipyle; Jason’s unfaithful towards Hypsipyle behaviour is mainly attributed to magic used by Medea. The latter, through her tricks, broke Jason’s marriage with the Lemnian and made him marry her. Yet, the reader knows that the Lemnian queen is wrong. Magic in love is not only unmoral but practically useless: in Ars 2.99–108 Ovid will make Medea an emblematic example of how inefficient is magic in love affairs; in Epist. 12 Medea herself admits that her artes are incapable of saving her marriage with Jason: the imminent Jason’s marriage with Creusa practically constitutes a Medea’s answer to Hypsipyle’s accusations that she stole 35

Epist. 12.25 hoc illic Medea fui, nova nupta quod hic est [there I, Medea, was what here your new bride is].

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the Thessalian thanks to her magical skills. Since Medea is not able to avert her own husband’s marriage to another woman, she cannot be guilty of stealing him through magic, as his ex-wife Hypsipyle claims in her epistle. But this Medea’s answer to Hypsipyle’s accusations does not completely favours her cause: Medea may succesfully deny the blames for using magic, but she practically gives right to the Lemnian’s complaints. The marriage issue, retrospectively justifying the Lemnian’s stand concerning the right to ‘own’ and ‘exploit’ the Thessalian, undermines in advance Medea’s lament for erotic betrayal: she herself has played the role of the rival for Hypsipyle; she factually contributed, just like Creusa, to the erotic betrayal of the same man, before she herself eventually suffers the consequences of Jason’s firm erotic levitas. Apart from that, Medea, opening a conversation about benefacta and meritum, practically ‘legitimizes’ her predecessor and, with her entire argumentation against Creusa, justifies Hypsipyle’s wrath against herself. But, seen from a different point of view so does Hypsipyle in favour of Medea. The justification of arguments, claims, and complaints of the female characters can also be reversed. By reminding Jason of his ties with and obligations towards her, the day they were joined in Juno’s presence, Hypsipyle introduces a dimension completely absent in both Euripides36 and the first book of the Argonautica.37 She invokes exactly the same conjugal authority and power as Medea, who also points out Juno’s involvement in her relationship with Jason.38: the Lemnian unconscioulsy offers Medea a conjugal legitimization, especially if this exposition of ‘nuptial contracts’ is cited within the intertext. Hypsipyle’s conjugal identity is only by the ‘written by herlself’ sixth epistle testified. Apollonius, as mentioned before, never presents the queen as a real coniux of Jason, as deceived by him, as erotically desperate or hoping and demanding a reunion with the hero. Of course she modestly proposes marriage to Jason; but she seems to be very understanding when the latter has to depart; as he has an important epic mission to accomplish, she never tries to change his mind; she never seems to have considered that a marriage between her and Jason had taken place. On the contrary, literary sources unanimoulsy describe the relation between Medea and Jason as a love story; they acknowledge Medea’s contribution in Jason’s tasks and point out the unfaithful towards her hero’s attitude. In Epist. 6 Hypsipyle seems to have ‘raised’ her relationship with Jason, without taking Jason, Apollonius (or both) into mind. It is on her initiative only that her relationship with Jason is presented as a marriage. Within this ‘legitimization’ of the relationship from the part of Hypsipyle, we have the emergence of etymological games that entangle the hypothetical parental approval or rejection of the barbarian bride Medea by the Greek mother-in36 37 38

Medea is the only one suffering from Jason’s infidelity. In A.R. 1.827–831 it is Hypsipyle practically proposing Jason to marry her, and the hero rejects this proposal, cf. Ir. Mitousi, De genere. Sex and Genre in Ovid’s Heroides, Thessaloniki 2007, PHD thesis, in Modern Greek, 159. Epist. 12.87–88 conscia sit Iuno sacris praefecta maritis‘/ et dea marmorea cuius in aede su­ mus!’ [My witness be Juno, ward of the rites of wedlock, and the goddess in whose marble shrine we stand!”], cf. Brownlee, Ovid’s Heroides, 33.

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law Alcimede39 –ironic manipulation of the maternal40 or the women’s of Iolcus41 fear for Jason’s expedition to Colchis.42 Hypsipyle is, in other words, essentially projecting and validating the arguments of her ‘rival’43 in advance (the word rival is in quotation marks because the issue of this rivalry is raised only in the Ovidian version of the sixth epistle): the same arguments are about to be put forward by Medea in her own epistle. This happens when she refers to Creusa as paelex,44 ‘clumsily’ reminding that she also had been a paelex in the eyes of Hypsipyle because of her relationship with Jason; thus, she embellishes the reader’s journey between the sixth and twelfth letter with irony free of tragic weight. Hypsipyle may be complaining in Epist. 6 that she received a blow from an enemy that she did not expect,45 as ‘she was afraid of the brides of Argos’, not of a barbarian woman; but Medea, thanks to Hypsipyle’s arguments, seems to have secured the most unexpected ally–advocate for herself. This silent communication between the two ‘rivals’ is being realized thanks to their familiarity with literary tradition concerning their plots. Both women seem to be aware of each other’s activity: Hypsipyle knows Medea’s role in the tasks of Jason thanks to a narratio not essentially different from Apollonius’ epic; Medea seems to have read Hyspipyle’s letter, as she practically answers to Hypsipyle’s accusations in many points. They both know too many, at least much more than they admit to know. Their identity as puellae doctae, familiar as they are with the wider intertext, even enables them to unequivocally cite an ‘Alexandrian footnote’ –as it happens with fama (Epist. 6.9), narratur (Epist. 6.1946), narrat (Epist. 6.32, 39), dicitur (Epist. 12.39). So, their apparent principal goal is to defend their own causes, but in fact they both justify each other’s arguments: whatever is true in favour of one is also true in favour of the other, because both of them have been deceived by the same man. Only that this legitimization of each other’s arguments and complaints is not as unconscious and clumsy as they present it. The reader, and 39 40 41 42

43 44 45 46

Epist. 6.105–106 non probat Alcimede mater tua–consule matrem–/ non pater, a gelido cui venit axe nurus [your mother Alcimede–ask counsel of your mother–favours her not, not your sire, who sees his son’s bride come from the frozen north]. A.R. 1.278–291. A.R. 1.251-259. Cf. Michalopoulos, Fighting against a Witch, 98, pointing out that the common etymological origin of the names Alcimede and Medea from the Greek μῆδος endows the latter’s rejection by the former with an ironic twist. In this case, Alcimede could be the bright side and Medea the dark, ominous and malevolent side of the μῆτις, cf. F. Frontisi-Ducroux, Dédale. Mythologie de l’artisan en Grèce ancienne, Paris 2000, Greek translation: Athens 2002, 102. By bringing into stage the discourse on marriage and rights deriving from conjugal status and the attended by Juno and Hymen ceremonies. On the multiple connotations of the term paelex and the importance of its use in these epistles, see e.g. V. Vaiopoulos, Between Lament and Irony: Some Cross-references in Ovid’s Heroides 6 and 12, in: Mediterranean Studies 21.2, 2013, 134 and 146, n. 50. Epist. 6.81-82 Argolidas timui–nocuit mihi barbara paelex!/non expectata vulnus ab hoste tuli [‘twas the daughters of Argolis I feared–yet my ruin has been a barbarian jade! The wound I feel is not from the foe whence I thought to see it come]. Cf. Michalopoulos, Fighting against a Witch, 97, also D. O. Ross, Backrounds to Augustan Poetry. Gallus, Elegy and Rome, Cambridge 1975, 78.

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before him the poet, has the right to snicker with this shift of characters in the role of the victim and the constant exchange of offensive characterizations. 7.3 JASON’S HEROIC IDENTITY QUESTIONED Hypsipyle disparages Jason’s, already established by Apollonius, epic identity, when she depicts him as being in tears while he was the last person to board the Argo heading for Colchis. Let us remind that Apollonius emphasizes the fact that he was the first (παροίτατος) to board the ship47 – even if it was Heracles who in the Argonautica had strictly called the Argonauts to ‘epic order’, separating them from the women of Lemnos.48 This prima facie silent but finally obvious Ovidian modification gives an idea of the distance separating the Apollonian character from the Ovidian Jason: Apollonius’ Jason, plenty of epic vigour, was the first to board the Argo; his Ovidian subsitute stays behind the whole crew, in elegiac-type tears, and is the last to embark. Ovid may have transformed the royal Hypsipyle of Apollonius’ epic into an elegiac jealously mourning puella; but also Hypsipyle/Ovid has transformed the brave Jason of the epic into a personage more or less fitting to elegiac ambient. Hypsipyle, apart from Jason’s heroic status, highly undermines the narration’s credulity and the epic poet’s authority, since she practically denies Apollonius’ categorical statement. Or, like Medea in the twelfth epistle, she intentiously distorts the literary ‘truth’, by counterfeiting information provided by Apollonius: Hypsipyle is in a superior position compared to Apollonius’, as she may claim that she had been a witness and a protagonist in the reported ‘facts’. According to Hypsipyle, it is Medea who will further threaten the Thessalian’s heroic identity. The justification of Hypsipyle’s views or predictions encompasses the alleged usurpation of Jason’s feats by Medea;49 she points out that this usurpation constitutes a kind of direct dispute of Jason’s heroic nature.50 Let us remind that, according to the ninth Ovidian epistle, Deianeira’s letter,51 Iole, another pae­ lex, does the same with the heroic identity of Heracles –the guardian of epic conscience (in Argonautica). In the twelfth letter Medea will insist on reminding her beneficence to Jason; the persistent use of the first person in Epist. 12 inevitably 47 48 49

50 51

A.R. 1.910. A.R. 1.861-874. Epist. 6.99–104 adde, quod adscribi factis procerumque tuisque/ sese avet, et titulo coniugis uxor obest./ atque aliquis Peliae de partibus acta venenis/ inputat et populum, qui sibi credat, habet:/ ‘non haec Aesonides, sed Phasias Aeetine/ aurea Phrixeae terga revellit ovis.’ [add that she wishes her name writ in the record of your own and hour heroes’ exploits, and the wife obscures the glory of the husband. And someone of the partisans of Pelias imputes your deeds to her poisons, and wins the people to believe; “This fleece of gold from the ram of Phrixus the son of Aeson did not seize away, but the Phasian girl, Aeëtes’ child.”]. Brownlee, Ovid’s Heroides, 33. Epist. 9.121 ante meos oculos adducitur advena paelex [but now my very eyes must look upon a stranger-mistress led before them].

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leads to the appropriation of the hero’s glory which stemmed from his feats.52 Thus Medea will make sure to justify, though seemingly unsuspecting, the claims of her predecessor in Jason’s bed that she poses a threat to the epic hero’s reputation. The reference to Jason’s tears in Epist. 12.91 will complete the Thessalian’s portrayal made by the Colchian and the Lemnian. The two ‘wives’ seem to agree in how they depict their ex-beloved: Jason, apart from being constantly unfaithful and deceiving, owes his tasks and reputation to Medea; and, when necessary, he may burst out in cries. This dispute of Jason’s masculinity by Hypsipyle may suggestively take on more specific characteristics; Jason could be even more ridiculed, if the motif of magic, which is employed in relation to Medea, is linked to Ovid’s earlier literary works. In Am. 3.7 the lover-poet, the protagonist in this collection, suffers from sex-impotence, has lost his basic male ability, and blames his male membrum in particular; this loss is attributed to the use of black magic against the most typical male part. While the use of ‘voodoo magic’ is basically the only practice of magic that is mentioned and depicted in the sixth letter,53 it is rather easy for the reader to recall the Ovidian reference to sexual incompetence at the end of the Amores. If the Ovidian passage from the Amores is indeed remembered, this contributes to the further and literal deconstruction of Jason’s male-heroic character that takes place in the letter; and this deconstruction is due to Medea in various ways according to the Lemnian queen.54 The latter, in this way, looks more like the Ovidian Deianeira who practically accused Heracles for transvestism:55 these hints/accusations would sound even more serious within a Roman milieu, as Roman social stereotypes would not be very tolerant vis-à-vis Heracles’ dressing in women’s clothes or the hero’s absorption in femineae artes.56 Thus, in Epist. 6 Hypsipyle is doubting not only Jason’s heroicity but also Jason’s overall masculine identity. And this deconstruction of Jason’s image comes up as a result: of the systematic reversal of narrative details known from Apollonius 52

53 54 55 56

Epist. 12.97 ipsa ego, quae dederam medicamina… [myself, the giver of the charmèd drug…], 105–108 illa ego, quae tibi sum nunc denique barbara facta,/ nunc tibi sum pauper, nunc tibi visa nocens,/ flammea subduxi medicato lumina somno,/ et tibi quae raperes, vellera tuta dedi [I, the maiden who am now at last become a barbarian in your eyes, who now am poor, who now seem baneful–I closed the lids of the flame-like eyes in slumber wrought by my drug, and gave into your hand the fleece to steal away uncharmed], et passim. Cf. Michalopoulos, Fighting against a Witch, 109, n. 91, A. M. Tupet, La magie dans la poésie latine I. Des origines à la fin du règne d’Auguste, Paris 1976, xi. Michalopoulos, Fighting against a Witch, 108, also correlating the two passages and wondering if Hypsipyle/Ovid humorously implies that Medea may have employed her tricks to affect not only Jason’s emotions but also his sexual competence, by wiping out his desire for Hypsipyle. Epist. 9.111–118, cf. 77–80. See M. Silveira Cyrino, Heroes In D(u)ress. Transvestism and Power in the Myths of Herakles and Achilles, in: Arethusa 31.2, 1998, 216, noting that Heracles’ metamorphosis does not deeply degrade his masculinity, since the hero still preserves his power and also his sexual potency. However, the mention of Hercules’ ‘domestic’ activity under Omphale’s orders represents an insult in the framework of Deianira’s attack to Hercules. Cf. Ar. Av. 831 and Cic. de Orat. 2.277, stating that accusing a man of being absorbed in weaving is equated with a direct contestation of his masculinity, see also Mitousi, De genere, 56.

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(like the order in which the Argonauts embarked the Argo); of the attribution of all heroic deeds to Medea instead of Jason according to both Medea herself and Hypsipyle; of rather offensive hints about the general and particular effects the voodoo magic applied by Medea on Jason might have. 7.4 MEDEA’S NAÏVETÉ 7.4.1 A deceptive self-portrayal The reader is particularly surprised when he/she hears the cynical declarations of a person already established as a criminal that her only flaws are excessive sensitivity and vulnerability.57 Medea is making for herself the portrait of a fearful, tender and inexperienced, gullible maiden. In particular, –Medea ingeniously masks her capacity as poisoner (what Hypsipyle called barbara venefica) with medical jargon and modernistic scientia,58 which reinforces the (wrong) etymology of her own name.59 Medea, in this way, is not a witch coming from the mysterious irrational oriental world, as the Euripidean Jason had accused her; she is not a barbarian, she is a kind of medicus, her potions are neither venena nor magical but medicamina; she exercises an ars, like all those belonging to the rational civilized Greek-Roman world. –Regarding the undeniably horrible consequences of her witchcraft (e.g. against Pelias), she silently and conveniently puts the blame on Jason. The same happens, even when she confesses to instigating murders, slaying her own flesh and blood,60 57 58

59

60

Cf. Bessone, P. Ovidii Nasonis. Heroidum Epistula XII, 21. Witchcraft is presented through Medea’s eyes as a side of medicine; the word doctis attributed to medicatibus in Epist. 12.165 implies that Medea is equated to the rest of the elegiac puellae of the same collection, apart from her desertion by an unfaithful lover and her simplicity and naïveté, also in what concerns her docta identity. See also Mitousi, De genere, 288, pointing out the neoteric and urbane characteristics the heroine acquires in Ovid’s version. Medea, apart from calling her magic skills an ars, seems to emphasize on the ‘medical’ dimension of her activity, see for example praemedicatus Epist. 12.15, 97 medicamina, 107 medicatο somno, 165 medicatibus doctis, while she constantly avoids using the word venenum; the latter is mentioned only in 12.180, and exclusively with regards to Creusa. This is a de facto answer to Hypsipyle’s accusations for Medea’s venefica nature, although the heroine never seems aware of Jason’s past (but Ovid is of course!), so the medical phraseology aims to disguise what her predecessor called poisonοus skill (Epist. 6.101, 131, cf. 19) into an ars (see 12.2, 167, cf. 12.50). On the other hand, this terminology is totally in accordance with Euripides’ (385 φαρμάκοις, 718 φάρμακα, 789 and 806 φαρμάκοις, 1126 and 1201 φαρμάκων) and Apollonius’ (3.27 πολυφάρμακον, 478 φαρμάσσειν, 530 φάρμαχ’, 4.1677 πολυφαρμάκου, 3.845 φάρμακον) reminiscences. See Michalopoulos, Fighting against a Witch, 99–100, cf. Lipka, Language in Vergil’s Eclogues, 106 on the dimension of medicina as cure for love torments. Epist. 12.113 germane. Another interesting difference from Apollonius’ treatment is that Ovid adopts a version according to which Absyrtus is Medea’s brother from both their parents and not a half-brother, as in A.R. 3.241–244; so Medea is, in this point, equated with Catullan Ariadne who treats Minotaur as a germanus in 64.150 (cf. Ov. Epist. 10.77 fratrem), although he

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and (literally) cooking relatives by affinity.61 All responsibility for the possible usurpation of her scientia is attributed to the man who took profit of her skills. Her cruelty also is a consequence of her submission to Jason’s wills, needs, and ambitions. – She obsessively invokes her virginity,62 her girlish innocence and inexperience in love.63 The heroine is trying to reestablish her image in the reader’s mind, as depicted by Apollonius’ narration at the time she first met Jason: then, although she already possessed the magical skills she is famous of, she was still a maiden and had not committed any crime yet. But in the meantime, Medea has committed murders and trahisons, as she admits in her epistle, while hints to the future infanticide are not absent. So, her deliberate attempt to present herself as a goodhearted innocent girl results to self-irony, since her own letter is full of contradictions and is unable to delete the image that has already been established in the reader’s mind. At the end of the day Medea is proved to be naïve indeed, if she hopes that she will really succeed to embellish her notorious image. Thus Medea deceives others and herself in this ‘torrent’ of her overall account of her development up to that point.

61

62 63

was a half-brother of hers. See Thomson, Catullus, 413, cf. Tromaras, Catulli Carmina, 482, Mitousi, De genere, 291. Epist. 12.113–116 At non te fugiens sine me, germane, reliqui!/ deficit hoc uno littera nostra loco./ quod facere ausa mea est, non audet scribere dextra./ sic ego, sed tecum, dilaceranda fui [but thee, O my brother, I did not leave behind as I fled! In this one place my pen fails. Of the deed my right hand was bold enough to do, it is not bold enough to write], 129–132 Quid re­ feram Peliae natas pietate nocentes/ caesaque virginea membra paterna manu?/ ut culpent alii, tibi me laudare necesse est,/ pro quo sum totiens esse coacta nocens [why rehearse the tale of Pelias’ daughters, by devotion led to evil deeds–of how their maiden hands laid knife to the members of their sire? I may be blamed by others, but you perforce must praise me–you, for whom so many times I have been driven to crime]. Equally ironic with the persistent Hypermestra’s reference to her virgo/soror identity in Epist. 14.55, 117, 123. See Epist. 12.81 virgo, 111 virginitas. Lipka, Language in Vergil’s Eclogues, 161–162 discusses the use of the term and its character in comparison with puella. Epist. 12.31–38 tunc ego te vidi, tunc coepi scire, quid esses;/ illa fuit mentis prima ruina meae./ et vidi et perii; nec notis ignibus arsi,/ ardet ut ad magnos pinea taeda deos./ et formo­ sus eras, et me mea fata trahebant;/ abstulerant oculi lumina nostra tui./ perfide, sensisti–quis enim bene celat amorem?/ eminet indicio prodita flamma suo [then ‘twas that I saw you, then began to know you; that was the first impulse to the downfall of my soul. I saw you, and I was undone; nor did I kindle with ordinary fires, but like the pine-torch kindled before the mighty gods. Not only were you noble to look upon, but my fates were dragging me to doom; your eyes had robbed mine of their power to see. Traitor, you saw it–for who can well hide love? Its flame shines forth its own betrayer], 89–92 Haec animum–et quota pars haec sunt!–movere puellae/ simplicis, et dextrae dextera iuncta meae./ vidi etiam lacrimas–sua pars et fraudis in illis./ sic cito sum verbis capta puella tuis [words like theseand how slight a part of them is here!– and your right hand clasped with mine, moved the heart of the simple maid. I saw also tears–they, too, played their part in the deception. Thus quickly was I ensnared, girl that I was, by your words], 97–98 ipsa ego, quae dederam medicamina, pallida sedi,/ cum vidi subitos arma tenere viros [myself, the giver of the charmèd drug, sat pallid there at sight of men all suddenly arisen and in arms].

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7.4.2 Medea, Dido, and Canace Medea presents herself (at least in terms of gullibility)64 equated to numerous female literary characters of the same collection who lack, however, a similar negatively-tinted literary profile: someone who does not know Medea would find her words sounding like Phyllis’,65 Ariadne’s,66 and Hypermestra’s.67 Only that those heroines are not charged in the readers’ subconscious with a guilt similar to that accompanying Medea in literature. Yet similitudes with other Heroidean characters are not limited to the above-mentioned heroines. Particular similitudes can be noticed between Medea and Dido. The latter pities herself in the same tone as Medea; she should have considered herself warned after the abandonment of a woman who happens to go by the name ‘Creusa’68 by an emblematic perfidus hospes of the Roman literary universe. Medea’s connection with Dido is further strengthened by a not imperceptible similitude of the opening of the twelfth epistle with the opening of the fourth book of the Aeneid:69 this probable connection could possibly provide a partial interpretation of Ovid’s choice not to use the name used by Euripides – ‘Glauce’ – for Medea’s rival. The other interpretation does not favour Jason: the etymology of the name Κρέουσα ( ἣ δ’ ἔθεεν κατὰ κῦμα διαπρήσσουσα κέλευθον (Ἰλ. 1.483), σὲ συνδυασμὸ μὲ τὰ ὑγρὰ κέλευθα (Ἰλ. 1.312, Ὀδ. 3.71, 4.842, κ. ἀ.). Ἡ παρομοίωση τῆς ταχύτητας τοῦ ἀτμόπλοιου μὲ τὴν κίνηση πτεροῦ ἢ νοήματος στὸν ἕβδομο στίχο ἀκολουθεῖ πιστὰ τὴν Ὁμηρικὴ περιγραφὴ τῶν καραβιῶν τῶν Φαιάκων, Ὀδ. 7.36 τῶν νέες ὠκεῖαι ὡς εἰ πτερὸν ἠὲ νόημα. Αὐτὴ ἡ συσχέτιση εἶναι ἰδιαιτέρως ἐπιτυχής, ἐφόσον τὰ θρυλικὰ πλοῖα τῶν 14

Θεοκρ. 5.93, μὲ τὸ σχόλιο τοῦ Gow (A. S. F. Gow, Theocritus, 2 τόμοι, Καῖμπριτζ 1950) ad loc., Νικάνδρου Θηρ. 576, Στράτωνος ΠΑ 12.197, 3.

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Φαιάκων ὑποτίθεται ὅτι ἀνέπτυσσαν ὑπερφυσικὴ ταχύτητα, ἀσύλληπτη γιὰ τὰ τεχνικὰ δεδομένα τοῦ ἐπικοῦ κόσμου καὶ τῆς ἀρχαιότητας γενικά·15 ἔτσι ἡ διάσταση θαύματος ποὺ ὁ Τανταλίδης ἐπιδιώκει νὰ προσδώσει στὸ περιγραφόμενο πλοῖο ταιριάζει ἀπόλυτα μὲ τὰ χαρακτηριστικὰ τοῦ κατ’ ἐξοχὴν θαυμαστοῦ μυθολογικοῦ πλοίου στὸ ὁποῖο ὁ Ὅμηρος ἀποδίδει δυνατότητες ποὺ ξεπερνοῦν τὴν λογική. Ἀξίζει νὰ σημειωθεῖ ὅτι ὁ Τανταλίδης χρησιμοποιεῖ τὸν μέσο τύπο τοῦ Ὁμηρικοῦ ρήματος ἀλεγίζω, ὁ ὁποῖος ἀπαντᾶται μόνο μία φορὰ στὴν σωζόμενη λογοτεχνία, στὸν ἐπιγραμματοποιὸ Ρουφῖνο (ΠΑ 5.18, 6 οὐκ ἀλεγιζόμενον), μὲ τὴν ἴδια σύνταξη καὶ στὴν ἴδια μετρικὴ θέση. Μὲ μιὰ ἀστεία ὑπερβολὴ ποὺ ἐπιστρέφει στὸ πνεῦμα τοῦ πρώτου στίχου, τὸ ποίημα κλείνει μὲ τὴν θαυμαστικὴ προσφώνηση πρὸς τὸ πλοῖο, ὡς ἔργο τῆς μηχανικῆς σοφίης ἐρισθενέος, μεταφέροντας τὸ Ὁμηρικὸ ἐπίθετο ποὺ χαρακτηρίζει ἀποκλειστικὰ καὶ μόνο τὸν Δία στὰ ἔπη (Ἰλ. 13.54, 19.355, 21.184, Ὀδ. 8.289) στὴν ἀνθρώπινη τέχνη καὶ ἐφευρετικότητα, ποὺ ἔτσι ἀντικαθιστᾶ σὲ ἰσχὺ τὸν ἀρχηγὸ τῶν Ὀλυμπίων θεῶν. Ἀλλὰ καὶ στὸ σύνολό της ἡ ἐπιστράτευση Ὁμηρικοῦ λεξιλογίου καὶ εἰκόνων γιὰ τὴν θάλασσα καὶ τὴν ναυσιπλοΐα μὲ σκοπὸ τὴν περιγραφὴ ἑνὸς σύγχρονου κατασκευάσματος δὲν ἀποτελεῖ μόνον στοιχεῖο τοῦ συνδυασμοῦ εὐρυμάθειας καὶ φαντασίας ποὺ σταθερὰ ὁ ποιητὴς ἐπιδεικνύει στὰ ἐπιγράμματά του, ἀλλὰ καὶ προσδίδει ἐπιπλέον στὸ ποίημα χιοῦμορ καὶ ἀνάλαφρη διάθεση. Ἕνα ἄλλο ἐπίγραμμα, κατὰ τὸ πρότυπο τῶν ἐπιγραμμάτων τῆς Ἑλληνικῆς Ἀνθολογίας ποὺ γράφονται ἐξ ἀφορμῆς ἔργων τέχνης, εἶναι ἐμπνευσμένο ἀπὸ τὸν “ἐν Κέῳ λελατομημένον λέοντα”, μὲ ἡμερομηνία συγγραφῆς 21 Αὐγούστου 1842. Ὁ Τανταλίδης εἶδε αὐτὸ τὸ μνημειῶδες ἐπὶ τοῦ βράχου γλυπτό, χρονολογούμενο στὴν ἀρχαϊκὴ περίοδο,16 κατὰ τὴν περιήγησή του 15

16

Ὁ Εὐστάθιος (Ὀδ. 1.278, 19–25, σχολιάζοντας τὸ χωρίο Ὀδ. 7.323 κ. ἑξ.: πρβλ. Ὀδ. 7.325–326 καὶ μὲν οἱ ἔνθ’ ἦλθον καὶ ἄτερ καμάτοιο τέλεσσαν / ἤματι τῷ αὐτῷ καὶ ἀπή­ νυσαν οἴκαδ’ ὀπίσσω) χρησιμοποιεῖ ἀκριβῶς αὐτὸν τὸν Ὁμηρικὸ στίχο γιὰ νὰ δικαιολογήσει τὴν “ἀδύνατη” ταχύτητα τῶν καραβιῶν τῶν Φαιάκων: ὅτι θέλων ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐνδείξεσθαι τὸ τάχος τῶν παρὰ τοῖς Φαίαξι νηῶν, ἱστορεῖ ὡς ἦν καιρὸς ὅτε οἱ Φαίακες τὸν Ῥαδάμανθυν ἦγον εἰς Εὔβοιαν ἐπὶ θέᾳ τοῦ Τιτυοῦ. καὶ κατὰ τὴν αὐτὴν ἡμέραν ἀπήγαγον αὐτὸν οἴκαδε, ἀπονητί. Ἔνθα σημείωσαι ὡς εἴτε ἀντικρὺ τῆς ἰδίως οὕτω καλουμένης Ἠπείρου κατὰ τὴν ἱστορίαν ἡ νῆσος τῶν Φαιάκων ᾤκισται εἴ τε καί που ποῤῥωτάτω ἐν ἀπανθρώπῳ τόπῳ καθὰ φαίνεται δοκεῖν Ὁμήρῳ, ὑπερβολικὸς ὁ ἐνταῦθα λόγος. καὶ ἀδύνατον ἀνυσθῆναι τὸν ἐκ Φαιάκων εἰς Εὔβοιαν πλοῦν καὶ ἐκεῖθεν εἰς Φαίακας, ἤματι τῷ αὐτῷ, ἤγουν ἡμέρᾳ μιᾷ. ἔσται δὲ ὅμως ἡ τοῦ τοιούτου πλοῦ ἱστορία δυνατὴ εἰ τὸ τάχος τῶν Φαιακικῶν νηῶν εἴη ὡσεὶ πτερὸν ἠὲ νόημα. Γιὰ τὸν λέοντα τῆς Ἰουλίδας, βλ. H. Gabelmann, Studien zum frühgriechischen Löwenbild, Βερολῖνο 1965, 54–55· ὁ Gabelmann διακρίνει Αἰγυπτιακὲς ἐπιδράσεις στὸ γλυπτό. Ὁ P. O. Brøndsted (Reisen und Untersuchungen in Griechenland, τόμος 1, Στουτγάρδη καὶ Παρίσι 1826, 32) ἤδη συνδέει τὸ γλυπτὸ μὲ τὸν μῦθο γιὰ τὴν ἐκδίωξη τῶν νυμφῶν τῆς νήσου Κέω ἀπὸ ἕνα λιοντάρι καὶ τὴν ἀκόλουθη καταφυγή τῶν νυμφῶν στὴν Κάρυστο. Ὁ ἱστορικὸς τοῦ δευτέρου π.Χ. αἰῶνα Ἡρακλείδης ὁ Λέμβος λέει γιὰ αὐτό (Περὶ Πολιτειῶν 26 Dilts): ἐκαλεῖτο μὲν Ὑδροῦσα ἡ νῆσος, λέγονται δὲ οἰκῆσαι νύμφαι πρότερον αὐτήν, φοβήσαντος δ’ αὐτὰς λέοντος εἰς Κάρυστον διαβῆναι, διὸ καὶ ἀκρωτήριον τῆς Κέω Λέων καλεῖται. Κέως δ’ ἐκ Ναυπάκτου διαβὰς ᾤκισε, καὶ ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ ταύτην ὠνό­ μασαν.

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στὶς Κυκλάδες τὸ 1842,17 ἐνόσω φοιτοῦσε στὸ ἑλληνικὸ Πανεπιστήμιο. Τὸ ποίημα, ἀπευθυνόμενο στὰ ἄγρια ζῶα τῆς περιοχῆς στὴν ὁποία εἶναι λαξευμένο τὸ λιοντάρι, ἔχει ὡς ἑξῆς (Ἰδιωτικὰ Στιχουργήματα, 291): Φεύγετ’, ὀρεσκῷοι θῆρες τάχος, ἔξιτε χώρου ἠνίδ’ ἐπῶρτο ποσὶν κείμενος ὧδε λέων. Καὶ τάχ’ ἂν ἔστε νάπας, ἔς τ’ οὔρεα ἦλθε λοχήσων, ἀλλὰ πέδας πετρίνας οὐ οἱ ἔλυσε γλυφή. Προειδοποιώντας τὰ ἀγρίμια νὰ φυλάγονται ἀπὸ τὸ λιοντάρι, πρὶν “θυμηθεῖ” στὸ τελευταῖο δίστιχο, μὲ τὴν τελικὴ ἀποκάλυψη στὸν τελευταῖο στίχο, ὅτι τὸ λιοντάρι εἶναι πέτρινο, ὁ ποιητὴς τονίζει μὲ παιγνιώδη ὑπερβολὴ τὴν φυσικότητα ποὺ προσέδωσε ὁ γλύπτης στὸ δημιούργημά του.18 Ὀρεσκῷοι θῆρες εἶναι ἡ φράση μὲ τὴν ὁποία ὁ Νέστορας περιγράφει τοὺς Κενταύρους στὴν ἀρχὴ τῆς Ἰλιάδας (1.268)· ἀξίζει νὰ σημειωθεῖ ὅτι ἡ προμετωπίδα τῆς ἴδιας τῆς συλλογῆς Ἰδιωτικὰ Στιχουργήματα εἶναι μιὰ φράση τοῦ Νέστορα τρεῖς στίχους παρακάτω (Ἰλ. 1.271): καὶ μαχόμην κατ’ ἔμ’ αὐτὸν ἐγώ. Τὸ σύνταγμα ἐπῶρτο λέων εἶναι ἐμπνευσμένο ἀπὸ τὴν Ὁμηρικὴ παρομοίωση ὦρτο λέων ὥς (Ἰλ. 11.129 καὶ 20.164). Ὁ Τανταλίδης χρησιμοποιεῖ τὸν τύπο νάπη (Ὁμ. Ἰλ. 8.558 καὶ 16.300, καὶ συχνὰ στὴν τραγωδία),19 ποὺ ὡς κατοικία λεόντων ἐμφανίζεται στὸν Πίνδαρο (Ἰ. 3/4, 11 κ. ἑξ. κοίλᾳ λέοντος / ἐν βαθυστέρνου νάπᾳ) καὶ στὸν Εὐριπίδη (Ἀλκ. 580 Ὄθρυος νάπαν λεόντων). Ἡ παρουσία τῶν λεόντων στὰ ὄρη ἀντικατοπτρίζεται στὸ Ὁμηρικὸ λέων ὀρεσίτροφος (Ἰλ. 12.299, 17.61, Ὀδ. 6.130, 9.292)· πρβλ. καὶ Εὐρ. Βακχ. 1141 κ. ἑξ. ὀρεστέρου / … λέοντος. Τὸ ὅλο ἐπίγραμμα ἴσως ἀποτελεῖ παραλλαγμένη ἀντιστροφὴ τῆς Καλλιμάχειας προτροπῆς πρὸς τὶς αἶγες τοῦ ὄρους Κύνθος τῆς Δήλου νὰ μὴ φοβοῦνται πλέον τὸ τόξο τοῦ κυνηγοῦ Ἐχέμμα, διότι ἀφιερώθηκε στὴν Ἄρτεμι (ΠΑ 6.121), καὶ τῆς ἀντίστοιχης προτροπῆς τοῦ Ἀρχία (ΠλΑ 94) στοὺς βοσκοὺς καὶ στοὺς γεωργοὺς τῆς Νεμέας νὰ μὴ φοβοῦνται πλέον τὸν λέοντα ποὺ σκότωσε ὁ Ἡρακλῆς.20 Παρουσιάζοντας μὲ ὑπερβολὴ καὶ μὲ παιγνιώδη διάθεση τὸν ἀνάγλυφο λέοντα ὡς ἱκανὸ νὰ τρομοκρατεῖ τὰ ζῶα, σὲ ἀντίθεση μὲ τὸν θρυλικὸ πραγματικὸ λέοντα ποὺ ὅμως, ὡς νεκρὸς πιά, εἶναι λογικὸ νὰ παύει νὰ ἀπειλεῖ τοὺς κατοίκους τῆς Νεμέας, ὁ Τανταλίδης χρησιμοποιεῖ ἀρχαῖες ἐπιγραμματικὲς ἀναλογίες γιὰ 17

18 19 20

Τὸ 1842 ἐπισκέφθηκε, μαζὶ μὲ τὸν Ν. Ἀ. Μαυροκορδᾶτο, τὴν Αἴγινα, τὸ Σούνιο, τὴν Κύθνο, τὴν Κέα, τὴν Σῦρο, τὴν Μύκονο, τὴν Δῆλο καὶ τὴν Τῆνο. Εἶχε προηγηθεῖ, τὸ 1841, ταξίδι στὴν Αἴγινα, Πόρο, Ὕδρα, Ναύπλιο, Ἄργος, Μυκῆνες. Βλ. Κασιάνη, Ἠλίας Τανταλίδης, 30 καὶ Τωμαδάκη, Καταγραφή, 145. Ἀντιστοίχως ἀναφέρει καὶ ὁ Brøndsted (Reisen, 31), περιγράφοντάς το, “das Ganze ist kräftig gemacht; in der Ruhe des Thiers und den Verhältnissen der Glieder ist Natur und Wahrheit”. Καὶ ὄχι τὸ μεταγενέστερο νάπος (π.χ. Πινδ. Ἰσθμ. 8.63, Εὐρ. Ἑλ. 1303, Θεοκρ. 20.39). Τὸ ἐπίγραμμα τοῦ Ἀρχία ἀναφέρεται σὲ εἰκαστικὴ ἀπεικόνιση τοῦ Ἡρακλῆ Λεοντοφόνου· βλ. Gow-Page (A. S. F. Gow καὶ D. L. Page, The Greek Anthology: The Garland of Philip, 2 τόμοι, Καῖμπριτζ 1968) 2.449.

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νὰ ὑπογραμμίσει περαιτέρω τὴν ζωντάνια ποὺ διακρίνει τὸ πέτρινο ἔργο καὶ γιὰ νὰ μεγιστοποιήσει τὸν ἔμμεσο ἔπαινο γιὰ τὸν γλύπτη ποὺ τὸ φιλοτέχνησε. Τὰ μεγάλα νησιὰ τῆς Πριγκιποννήσου περιγράφονται, σὲ ἕνα ἐπίγραμμα μὲ ἡμερομηνία 19 Ἰουνίου 1848, μὲ ἔντονα Ὁμηρικοὺς ὅρους καὶ μὲ καταλογικὴ μορφὴ ποὺ καταλήγει σὲ priamel21 ὥστε νὰ δηλωθεῖ ἡ προτίμηση τοῦ γράφοντος σὲ ἕνα ἀπὸ αὐτά (Ἰδιωτικὰ Στιχουργήματα, 295):

5

10

Τέσσαρες ἀντιάουσι Προποντίδι εἰν ἁλὶ νῆσοι μέσον Βύζαντος κ’ Ἀστακινοῦ πελάγους· Πρώτη μὲν Πρώτη αἰπεινὴ παιπαλόεσσα· τὴν δὲ μετ’, Ἀντιγόνη, νηυσὶν ἀκυμοτέρη· Χαλκῖτις τριτάτη δικόρυμβος, βωτιάνειρα, Μουσάων ἱερή, μουσοπόλοισι φίλη· αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα τετάρτη ἐύσκιος, ἀνθεμόεσσα, πασάων μείζων Πρίγκιπος ἠγαθέη· τῶν τις χαιρέτω ἄλλῃ, ὁ δ’ ἄλλῃ· αὐτὰρ ἔμοιγε Χαλκῖτις μούνη εὔαδε μουσοτρόφος.

Τὰ Πριγκιποννήσια βρίσκονται εἰν ἁλί, μὲ τὸν ἐμπρόθετο προσδιορισμὸ στὸν προτελευταῖο πόδα τοῦ ἑξαμέτρου, ὅπως στὸν Ὅμηρο ἡ Ὠγυγία (Ὀδ. 7.244) καὶ ἡ Ἰθάκη, κατὰ τὴν περιγραφὴ τοῦ Ὀδυσσέα (Ὀδ. 9.25). Ὁ κόλπος τῆς Νικομήδειας ἀναφέρεται μὲ τὸ ἀρχαιότερό του ὄνομα, Ἀστακηνός,22 μὲ βράχυνση τοῦ η σὲ ι γιὰ μετρικοὺς λόγους. Τὸ ἀγαπημένο νησὶ τοῦ ποιητῆ, ἡ Χάλκη,23 ἀναφέρεται μὲ τὸ ἀρχαῖο της ὄνομα Χαλκῖτις.24 Εἶναι μουσοτρό­ φος, ὅπως ἡ Ὁμηρικὴ Ἰθάκη εἶναι ἀγαθὴ κουροτρόφος στὰ λόγια τοῦ 21 22

23 24

Γιὰ τὴν ἀπόδοση τῆς λέξεως στὰ Ἑλληνικὰ ἔχει προταθεῖ ὁ ὅρος σωρείτης παραδειγ­ μάτων ἀπὸ τὸν καθηγητὴ Δανιὴλ Ἰ. Ἰακώβ (βλ. Β. Π. Βερτουδάκη, Τὸ Ὄγδοο Βιβλίο τῆς Παλατινῆς Ἀνθολογίας, Ἀθήνα 2011, 202, μὲ τὴν σημείωση 343). Πρβλ. Στράβωνα 12.4, 2 ἔπειτ’ ἐκδέχεται τὴν τῶν Χαλκηδονίων ᾐόνα ὁ Ἀστακηνὸς καλούμενος κόλπος, μέρος ὢν τῆς Προποντίδος, ἐν ᾧ ἡ Νικομήδεια ἔκτισται ἐπώνυμος ἑνὸς τῶν Βιθυνικῶν βασιλέων τοῦ κτίσαντος αὐτήν. Ὁ κόλπος πῆρε τὸ ὄνομά του ἀπὸ τὴν πόλη Ἀστακός, γιὰ τὴν σχέση τῆς ὁποίας μὲ τὴν Νικομήδεια δὲν ὑπάρχει συμφωνία στὶς πηγές. Κατὰ τὸν Στράβωνα (αὐτόθι), ὁ Ἀστακὸς καταστράφκε ἀπὸ τὸν Λυσίμαχο καὶ ὁ Νικομήδης μετέφερε λίγο ἀργότερα τοὺς κατοίκους του στὴν πόλη ποὺ ὁ ἴδιος ἔκτισε (ἦν δ’ ἐν αὐτῷ τῷ κόλπῳ καὶ Ἀστακὸς πόλις, Μεγαρέων κτίσμα καὶ Ἀθηναίων καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα Δοιδαλσοῦ, ἀφ’ ἧς καὶ ὁ κόλπος ὠνομάσθη· κατεσκάφη δ’ ὑπὸ Λυσιμά­ χου· τοὺς δ’ οἰκήτορας μετήγαγεν εἰς Νικομήδειαν ὁ κτίσας αὐτήν). Κατὰ τὸν Παυσανία (5.12, 7), ὁ Ἀστακὸς ἁπλῶς μετονομάσθηκε σὲ Νικομήδεια: ἀπὸ τούτου (sc. Νικομήδους) δὲ καὶ τῇ μεγίστῃ τῶν ἐν Βιθυνίᾳ πόλεων μετεβλήθη τὸ ὄνομα, Ἀστακῷ τὰ πρὸ τούτου καλουμένῃ. Γιὰ τὴν ἀγάπη τοῦ ποιητῆ γιὰ τὴν Χάλκη καὶ γιὰ τὴν ἐξύμνησή της στὰ ποιήματά του, βλ. Χασιώτη, Βυζαντιναὶ Σελίδες, 234 κ. ἑξ. Ἐξ αἰτίας τοῦ χαλκοῦ ποὺ ἐξορυσσόταν ἀπὸ τὸ νησί. Βλ., π.χ., Β. Κουτλουμουσιανό, Ὑπόμνημα ἱστορικὸν περὶ τῆς κατὰ τὴν Χάλκην μονῆς τῆς Θεοτόκου, Κωνσταντινούπολις 1846, 3, Δ. Σκαρλᾶτο Βυζάντιο, Ἡ Κωνσταντινούπολις, ἢ περιγραφὴ τοπογραφική, ἀρχαιολογικὴ καὶ ἱστορική, τόμος Β, Ἀθῆναι 1862, 298, G. Schlumberger, Les îles des Princes, Παρίσι 1884, 103, Χασιώτη, Βυζαντιναὶ Σελίδες, 187.

11 Ἐπίδραση τοῦ ἀρχαίου ἑλληνικοῦ ἐπιγράμματος

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Ὀδυσσέα ποὺ τὴν προκρίνει, καθὼς ὁ Τανταλίδης τὴν Χάλκη, ἀπὸ ὅλα τὰ μέρη τοῦ κόσμου στὸ ἴδιο χωρίο (Ὀδ. 9.27) τὸ ὁποῖο φαίνεται ἔτσι νὰ κυριαρχεῖ στὸ νοῦ τοῦ ποιητῆ γιὰ τὴν σύνθεση τῆς ἐν λόγῳ περιγραφῆς. Ἡ Χάλκη φέρει καὶ ἄλλους προσδιορισμοὺς ποὺ τονίζουν τὰ ἰδιαίτερα χαρακτηριστικά της. Ἀφενὸς εἶναι βωτιάνειρα, ὅπως στὸν Ὅμηρο ἡ Φθία (Ἰλ. 1.155) καὶ ἡ χθών γενικότερα (Ὀδ. 19.408). Θὰ ἦταν ἐνδιαφέρον νὰ παραθέσουμε μιὰν ἄλλη περιγραφὴ τοῦ νησιοῦ, γραμμένη τὴν ἴδια ἐποχή: “ὁ τόπος τῆς Χάλκης εἶναι ὅλος σχεδὸν μετέωρος, ἄνισος, βουνώδης, ξηρός, καὶ ἄνικμος ἐπὶ τῶν λόφων, ξανθόχρους τὴν γῆν, καὶ ἱκανῶς καρποφόρος εἰς τὰ χαμηλώματα”.25 Ὁ Τανταλίδης, ἑπομένως, δὲν παραλείπει μὲν ἕνα θετικό, ἀπὸ ὑλικῆς πλευρᾶς, στοιχεῖο τοῦ τόπου (βωτιάνειρα), ἀποσιωπώντας ἀσφαλῶς συγχρόνως τὰ ἀρνητικά, ὅπως ταιριάζει σὲ ποίημα ποὺ ἀποσκοπεῖ στὴν ἐξύμνηση τοῦ νησιοῦ, ἀλλὰ ἐπικεντρώνεται στὸ κυρίως ἐπιδεκτικὸ ἐπαίνου χαρακτηριστικὸ τῆς Χάλκης, γιὰ τὸ ὁποῖο καὶ τὴν προτιμᾶ. Αὐτὸ τὸ στοιχεῖο δὲν ἀνήκει στὴν ὑλικὴ διάσταση: εἶναι ἡ πνευματικὴ ζωὴ τοῦ νησιοῦ, τῆς ὁποίας ἀποτελεῖ καὶ ὁ ἴδιος μέρος.26 Ἀφετέρου ἡ Χάλκη εἶναι δικό­ ρυμβος, ὅπως, π.χ. ὁ Παρνασσός (πρβλ., γιὰ παράδειγμα, Λουκιανοῦ Χάροντα ἢ Ἐπισκοποῦντας 5.24). Ὅμως τὸ νησὶ ξέρουμε ὅτι ἔχει τρεῖς κορυφές,27 ἐνῶ δύο ἔχει ἡ Πρίγκιπος.28 Τὸ ἐπίθετο ποὺ χρησιμοποιεῖ ὁ ποιητὴς ἴσως ὀφείλεται στὸ ὅτι σὲ δύο ἀπὸ τὶς τρεῖς κορυφὲς τῆς Χάλκης ὑψώνονται κτίσματα καὶ ἔτσι αὐτὲς καθίστανται πιὸ περίοπτες.29 Ἴσως, βέβαια, ὁ Τανταλίδης νὰ μὴ σκέπτεται τὶς ἴδιες τὶς κορυφές, ἀλλὰ τοὺς λόφους οἱ ὁποῖοι τὶς σχηματίζουν, ποὺ στὴν πραγματικότητα εἶναι δύο, ὁ βόρειος καὶ ὁ νότιος ποὺ ἔχει δύο κορυφές.30 25 26

27

28 29

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Κουτλουμουσιανός, Ὑπόμνημα, 7–8. Πρβλ. καὶ Σκαρλᾶτο Βυζάντιο, Κωνσταντινούπολις, 299. Γιὰ τὸν ἴδιο λόγο προκρίνει τὴν Χάλκη καὶ ὁ Χασιώτης, βλέποντας τὴν σπουδαιότητά της ὑπὸ “πνευματικωτέραν” ἄποψη (Βυζαντιναὶ Σελίδες, 195)· ὁ Χασιώτης ὑπογραμμίζει τὴν σημασία τῆς Θεολογικῆς καὶ τῆς Ἐμπορικῆς Σχολῆς τοῦ νησιοῦ γιὰ τὸ Γένος, στὸ ὁποῖο διαχέονται, μέσῳ αὐτῶν τῶν Σχολῶν, τὰ φῶτα τῆς παιδείας, καὶ περιγράφει εἰκόνες ἀπὸ τοὺς δρομους καὶ τοὺς λόφους τῆς Χάλκης μὲ νέους ποὺ περπατοῦν καὶ συζητοῦν (αὐτόθι, 196). Ὁ Schlumberger πάλι (Les îles, 105) τονίζει ὅτι ἡ “δόξα” τῆς Χάλκης εἶναι τὰ ὡραῖα καὶ πλούσια μοναστήρια της. Γιὰ παλαιὲς περιγραφὲς αὐτοῦ τοῦ χαρακτηριστικοῦ, πρβλ. P. Gilles, De Topographia Constantinopoleos, Λέιντεν 1562, 261 “quae tribus vertibus, seu collibus intumescit”, Σκαρλᾶτο Βυζάντιο, Κωνσταντινούπολις, 298–299 “διαιρεῖται δέ, ἐν σχήματι χηνόποδος ἢ τριγώνου, εἰς τρία ὀρεινὰ μέρη”, κτλ., Χασιώτη, Βυζαντιναὶ Σελίδες, 187–188. Πρβλ. W. S. Monroe, Turkey and the Turks, Βοστώνη 1907, 206: “two peaks, separated by a deep pass, rise form its surface”. Πρβλ. Σκαρλᾶτο Βυζάντιο, Κωνσταντινούπολις, 299–300: “ἐκ δὲ τῶν τριῶν τῆς νήσου ὀρέων, έπὶ τοῦ πρώτου μὲν καὶ ὑψηλοτέρου σώζεται κατηρειπωμένος, ἀφ’ οὗ διήρκεσεν ἕνα περί που αἰῶνα, ὁ ἀνεμόμυλος τοῦ μοναστηρίου τῆς Παναγίας, ἀνεγερθεὶς τῷ 1710 ὑπὸ τοῦ ἡγουμένου καὶ πρῴην σκευοφύλακος τῆς Μονῆς Νεοφύτου· ἐπὶ τῆς κορυφῆς δὲ τοῦ δευτέρου ὄρους, ὑψουμένου κωνοειδῶς ὕπερθεν τῆς πρὸς βοῤῥᾶν τοῦ χωρίου ἄκρας καὶ σχηματίζοντος ἀκρωτήριον ἢ ἰδίαν νῆσον, ἵδρυται ἡ Μονὴ τῆς Ἁγίας Τριάδος, ἐπονομαζομένη πρότερον Τῆς Σιών (…) καὶ προσεπονομασθεῖσα ἔπειτα, διὰ τὸ περίοπτον τῆς θέσεως, Κάτοπτρον”. Πρβλ. R. Pococke, A Description of the East and Some other Countries, vol. II, part II,

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Τὸ πρῶτο νησί, ἡ Πρώτη, φέρει τὰ Ὁμηρικὰ ἐπίθετα αἰπεινή καὶ παιπα­ λόεσσα, ὅρους ποὺ ἀποδίδουν τὸ ἄγριο καὶ βραχῶδες της ἔδαφος καὶ εἶναι ἀκριβῶς ἀνάλογοι μὲ αὐτοὺς ποὺ χρησιμοποιεῖ ὁ ἱστορικὸς Gustave Schlumberger τὸ 188431 καί, κυρίως, ὁ Wilson στὸν ταξιδιωτικό του ὁδηγὸ τοῦ 1907:32 μὲ τὰ ἐπίθετα αὐτὰ τὸ νησὶ συγχρόνως φωτίζεται μὲ ἐπικὸ χρῶμα. Αἰπεινά χαρακτηρίζονται πολλὰ μέρη στὸν Ὅμηρο (ἡ Ἴλιος, Ἰλ. 9.419 13.773, 15.215· ἡ Καλυδών, Ἰλ. 13.217, 14.116, κ. ἀ.), ἐνῶ παιπαλόεσσαι (συνήθως στὸ τέλος τοῦ στίχου, ὅπως ἐδῶ) εἶναι στὰ ἔπη διάφορες νῆσοι: ἡ Ἴμβρος (Ἰλ. 13.33, 24.78), ἡ Χίος (Ὀδ. 3.170), ἡ Σάμος (Ὀδ. 4.845. 15.29) καὶ ἡ Ἰθάκη (Ὀδ. 11.480). Ἡ Ἀντιγόνη χαρακτηρίζεται νηυσὶν ἀκυμοτέρη, μὲ ὅρο ποὺ ἀνακαλεῖ τὸ ἀρχαῖο της ὄνομα, Πάνορμος, τὸ ὁποῖο ἔφερε ἐξ αἰτίας τοῦ ἀσφαλοῦς της λιμανιοῦ, πρὶν μετονομασθεῖ, ἴσως ἀπὸ τὸν Δημήτριο τὸν Πολιορκητὴ πρὸς τιμὴν τοῦ πατέρα του Ἀντιγόνου.33 Ἡ Πρίγκιπος, τὸ μεγαλύτερο ἀπὸ τὰ Πριγκιπόννησα,34 εἶναι ἐύσκιος, ἀνθεμόεσσα καὶ ἠγαθέη. Τὸ Ὁμηρικὸ ἐπίθετο ἠγαθέη χαρακτηρίζει στὰ ἔπη κατὰ κανόνα τὴν Πύλο (Ἰλ. 1.252, Ὀδ. 2.308, 4.599, κ. ἀ.) καὶ τὴν Λῆμνο (Ἰλ. 2.722, 21.58). Σχετικὰ μὲ τὸ ἐύσκιος, πρέπει νὰ σημειωθεῖ ὅτι τὸ κείμενο τῶν Ἰδιωτικῶν Στιχουργημάτων ἔχει εὐΐσκιος. Ὅμως ὁ ὀρθὸς τύπος τοῦ ἐπιθέτου εἶναι εὔσκιος35 ἤ, στὴν ἐπική του μορφή, ἐύσκιος:36 φαίνεται ὅτι τὸ εὐΐσκιος τῆς ἐκδόσεως εἶναι τυπογραφικὸ λάθος, μᾶλλον ἀντὶ γιὰ ἐύσκιος, ποὺ ταιριάζει ἀπόλυτα στὸ μέτρο καὶ στὸ ἐπικὸ ὕφος. Ἀνθεμόεντα μέρη στὸν Ὅμηρο εἶναι οἱ λειμῶνες (Ἰλ. 2.467, Ὀδ. 12.159) καὶ ἡ πόλη Πύρασος (Ἰλ. 2.695), κοντὰ στὴ σημερινὴ Νέα Ἀγχίαλο τῆς Μαγνησίας. Μὲ τὸ εἰδυλλιακὸ τοπίο ποὺ οἱ λέξεις ἐύσκιος καὶ ἀνθεμόεσσα ὑποδηλώνουν μπορεῖ νὰ παραβληθεῖ ἡ ἔκφραση τοῦ Χασι-

31 32

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Λονδῖνο 1745, 99: “This island…consists of two hills; at the eastern foot of the northern hill is the small town (…); on the top of the hill there is a convent of the Holy Trinity (…). We went southward to the delightful convent called Panaiea, which is situated between the two summits of the southern hill”. Schlumberger, Les îles, 11: “Proti et Andérovithos (ou Térébinthos) sont nues et rocailleuses”. Πρβλ. καὶ αὐτόθι, 19. “The steep, rugged island of Proti” (C. W. Wilson, Handbook for Travellers in Constantinople, Brûsa, and the Troad, Λονδῖνο 1907, 116). Ἕνας ἄλλος ταξιδιωτικὸς ὁδηγός (F. Lacroix, Guide du voyageur à Constantinople et dans ses environs, Παρίσι 1839, 150) περιγράφει τὸ τοπίο τοῦ νησιοῦ ὡς ἐξῆς: “nous remarquons en passant que la partie de cet îlot qui regarde le sud est coupée à pic; ce sont les flots de la Propontide qui, violemment poussés par le vent, ont ainsi creusé cette masse solide qui leur faisait obstacle”. Ὁ C. Pertusier (Picturesque Promenades in and near Constantinople and on the waters of Bosporus, Λονδῖνο 1820, 121) καὶ ὁ A. Timoni (Nouvelles promenades dans le Bosphore ou médidations Bosphoriques Κωνσταντινούπολις 1844, 379) παρατηροῦν τὴν ἀσβεστολιθικὴ σύνθεση τοῦ ἐδάφους τῆς Πρώτης. Ζωναρᾶ Ἱστορ. 374, 13 κ. ἑξ. εἰς τὴν Πάνορμον νῆσον, ἣ νῦν τοῦ Ἀντιγόνου καλεῖται. Βλ. καὶ Σκαρλᾶτο Βυζάντιο, Κωνσταντινούπολις, 294. Ὁ Timoni (Promenades, 370) ὑποθέτει ὅτι ὁ Δημήτριος τὴν μετονόμασε τὸ 311 π.Χ., κατὰ τὴν ἐκστρατεία του στὴν Θράκη. Γιὰ τὴν περιγραφὴ τοῦ νησιοῦ καὶ γιὰ λοιπὰ στοιχεῖα περὶ αὐτοῦ, βλ. Σκαρλᾶτο Βυζάντιο, Κωνσταντινούπολις, 311 κ. ἑξ. Π.χ. Πινδ. Πυθ. 11.21 Ἀχέροντος ἀκτὰν παρ’ εὔσκιον. Π.χ. Θεοκρ. 7.8 ἐύσκιον ἄλσος.

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ώτη πού, ὅταν μιλάει γιὰ τὸ νησί, ἀναφέρει τοὺς “συσκίους παραδείσους” καὶ τὰ “βαθύσκια δάση” του,37 καθὼς καὶ ἡ ἀναλυτικὴ περιγραφὴ μιᾶς Ἀγγλίδας ἐπισκέπτριας τὸν Ἰούλιο τοῦ 1856: “among fir-trees are mixed fig and olive-trees, with every here and there a patch of sloping vineyard, the bright scarlet flower of the pomegranate, and picturesque Greek shepherds lying in the shade… The fir-trees overhang the cliffs, which are green almost to the water’s edge”·38 παρόμοια εἶναι καὶ ἡ περιγραφὴ τοῦ Tischendorf κάποια χρόνια νωρίτερα, ὁ ὁποῖος, ἀφοῦ δηλώσει ὅτι ἡ Πρίγκιπος εἶναι “der größten und gesegnetesten von allen neun (sc. τὰ νησιὰ τῆς Πριγκίπου)”, συνεχίζει: “Granaten und Cypressen, Oliven und Reben bekleiden ihre Höhen”.39 Στὰ ἴδια πλαίσια κινεῖται καὶ ἡ περιγραφὴ τοῦ Schlumberger ποὺ ἀναφέρει ποικίλα δένδρα καὶ ἄνθη.40 Τὸ τελευταῖο δίστιχο τοῦ ἐπιγράμματος τοῦ Τανταλίδη ἴσως ἀπηχεῖ τὰ λόγια τοῦ Ὀδυσσέα (Ὀδ. 14.227–228) αὐτὰρ ἐμοὶ τὰ φίλ’ ἔσκε, τά που θεὸς ἐν φρεσὶ θῆκεν· / ἄλλος γάρ τ’ ἄλλοισιν ἀνὴρ ἐπιτέρπεται ἔργοις, ποὺ ἀποτελοῦν ἕνα μικρὸ priamel, καθὼς τὸ ἐπίγραμμα τοῦ Τανταλίδη καταλήγει τελικὰ ὁλόκληρο σὲ ἕνα priamel ποὺ ἔχει σκοπὸ νὰ προτάξει τὴν Χάλκη ἀπὸ τὰ ἄλλα νησιὰ στὴν καρδιὰ τοῦ ποιητῆ, ὅπως φαίνεται στὴν κατακλεῖδα τοῦ ποιήματος. 11.2 ΦΙΛΙΠΠΟΣ ΙΩΑΝΝΟΥ Ὁ Φίλιππος Ἰωάννου (1800–1880) ὑπῆρξε ἀπὸ τοὺς σπουδαιότερους Ἕλληνες λογίους τοῦ δεκάτου ἐνάτου αἰῶνα. Συμμετεῖχε στὸν ἐθνικοαπελευθερωτικὸ ἀγῶνα τοῦ 1821· ἀργότερα φοίτησε στὸ Πανεπιστήμιο τοῦ Μονάχου, ὅπου παρακολούθησε μαθήματα Φυσικῶν Ἐπιστημῶν, Φιλοσοφίας καὶ Φιλολογίας καὶ συνέγραψε διδακτορικὴ διατριβὴ σχετικὰ μὲ τὸ φαινόμενο τῶν μετεώρων (1836). Ἐπέστρεψε στὴν Ἀθήνα τὸ 1837 καὶ διωρίσθηκε καθηγητὴς Φιλοσοφίας στὸ Πανεπιστήμιο τὸ 1839. Ἐξ αἰτίας τοῦ στενοῦ του συνδέσμου μὲ τὸν πρῶτο βασιλιᾶ τῆς Ἑλλάδας Βαυαρὸ Ὄθωνα ἀπολύθηκε ἀπὸ τὸ Πανεπιστήμιο τὸ 1862, ἀλλὰ ἐπανῆλθε σὲ αὐτὸ μὲ ἀπαίτηση τῆς Πανεπιστημιακῆς κοινότητας τὸ 1863. Ἔλαβε πολυάριθμα ἀξιώματα καὶ συνταξιοδοτήθηκε τὸ 1871.41 Τὸ ἔργο τοῦ Ἰωάννου εἶναι ὀγκωδέστατο: φι37 38

39 40 41

Χασιώτης, Βυζαντιναὶ Σελίδες, 18 καὶ 96. E. Hornby, Constantinople during the Crimean War, Λονδῖνο 1863, 400. Ἡ συγγραφέας εἶναι ἰδιαίτερα παραστατικὴ σὲ ὅλες τὶς περιγραφές της. Μιλώντας γιὰ τὰ μικρότερα νησιὰ τῆς Πριγκίπου, ἡ Hornby (Constantinople, 434) δίνει τὴν ἀκόλουθη περιγραφή, ποὺ εἶναι ἐνδιαφέρουσα ὅσον ἀφορᾶ τὴν ἐντύπωση ποὺ δημιουργοῦν τὰ νησιὰ αὐτὰ ἀπὸ μακριά, καὶ τὴν παρατηρητικότητα τῆς συγγραφέως: “we passed several small islands, which seemed uninhabited. Stone-pines grew close to the cliffs as to hang quite over them. The rocks were of wonderful beauty and variety of colour, and the contrast of the brilliant green of the luxuriant arbutus and heath growing on them, with the dark-grey and red and brown of the different strata, was the most beautiful thing to the eye that can be conceived”. K. Von Tischendorf, Reise in den Orient, 2 τόμοι, Λειψία 1846, 2.297. Schlumberger, Les îles, 138–139. Π. Πατριαρχέας, Φίλιππος Ἰωάννου: ὁ ἀπὸ καθέδρας Ἕλλην Φιλόσοφος τοῦ 19ου

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λοσοφικό, ρητορικό, λογοτεχνικό, φιλολογικό. Ἀπὸ τὴν φιλολογικὴ ἐργασία ἀξίζει νὰ ἀναφερθεῖ ἡ ἑλληνικὴ “μεθερμηνεία”, σὲ δακτυλικὸ ἑξάμετρο προσωδιακὸ στίχο, συνοδευόμενη ἀπὸ σχολιασμό, τῶν Γάμων τοῦ Πηλέα καὶ τῆς Θέτιδος καὶ τῆς Κόμης τῆς Βερενίκης τοῦ Κάτουλλου καὶ τῶν δύο πρώτων βιβλίων τῶν Μεταμορφώσεων τοῦ Ὀβιδίου· ἐπίσης ἡ “μεθερμηνεία”, σὲ ἐλεγειακὸ δίστιχο, τῆς πρώτης Ἐπιστολῆς τῶν Ἡρωίδων τοῦ ἴδιου ποιητῆ, καὶ ἡ “μεθερμηνεία”, σὲ δακτυλικὸ ἑξάμετρο μὲ Δωρικὰ στοιχεῖα, τοῦ πέμπτου βιβλίου τῶν Βουκολικῶν τοῦ Βιργιλίου. Τόσο σὲ αὐτὰ τὰ ἔργα ὅσο καὶ στὰ πρωτότυπά του ποιήματα (ὅλα περιλαμβανόμενα στὰ Φιλολογικὰ Πάρεργα, πρώτη φορὰ ἐκδοθέντα τὸ 1865 στὴν Ἀθήνα), συντεθειμένα σὲ ἀρχαϊκὸ ἰδίωμα, ἐνίοτε μιμούμενο συγκεκριμένο ποιητή,42 φαίνεται ὅτι ἡ φιλοδοξία τοῦ Ἰωάννου ἦταν νὰ ἀναβιώσει τὴν σύνθεση ἀρχαίας ποιήσεως, ἀξιοποιώντας τὴν πολύχρονη τριβή του στὰ κείμενα.43 Ὁ ποιητὴς ἀποκαλοῦσε τὰ Φιλολογικὰ Πάρεργα “ἐπισκεπτήριον”, τὴν μαρτυρία τῆς παρουσίας του στὸν κόσμο· ἡ γλῶσσα τῶν ποιημάτων τὰ καθιστοῦσε ἀναγνώσιμα ἀπὸ τοὺς ἀρχαιομαθεῖς ξένους καὶ ἀποδείκνυε ὅτι ὁ σημερινὸς ἑλληνισμὸς δὲν εἶναι καὶ τόσο ἀπομακρυσμένος ἀπὸ τὸ παρελθόν του.44 Ἀπὸ τὰ διάφορα ποιήματα ἐδῶ μᾶς ἐνδιαφέρουν τὰ ἐπιγράμματά του. Κατὰ τὸ πρότυπο τῶν ἀρχαίων ἐπιγραμματικῶν κατηγοριῶν, ἔχει γράψει σκωπτικά, ἐπιδεικτικὰ καί, κυρίως, ἐπιτύμβια ἐπιγράμματα·45 ὅλα φανερώνουν μεγάλη ἐξοικείωση μὲ τὴν Ἑλληνικὴ Ἀνθολογία καί, ἀσφαλῶς, μὲ πολλὰ ἄλλα κείμενα τῆς ἀρχαιοελληνικῆς γραμματείας. Συχνὰ ὁ Ἰωάννου συνθέτει περισσότερα τοῦ ἑνὸς ἐπιγράμματα πάνω σὲ κάποιο θέμα, ὅπως ἔκαναν καὶ οἱ ἀρχαῖοι ἐπιγραμματοποιοί. Ἐνδιαφέρον ζεῦγος εἶναι τὰ δύο ἐπιδεικτικὰ ἐπιγράμματα ποὺ ἐπιγράφονται Εἰς ναῦν ἀτμόπλουν (Πάρεργα, 395):46 42 43

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αἰῶνος, Ἀθῆναι 1936, 7–25. Π.χ. ἡ ᾨδὴ ἐν μέτρῳ Σαπφικῷ: Πάρεργα, 340–342, ἢ οἱ ᾨδὲς σὲ Πινδαρικὸ μέτρο: Πάρεργα, 343–353. Ἡ κλίση τοῦ Ἰωάννου πρὸς τὴν ἀρχαιοπρεπῆ ποίηση ὀφείλεται ἀφ’ ἑνὸς στὸ γενικὸ πνευματικὸ κλίμα τῆς ἐποχῆς του καὶ ἀφ’ ἑτέρου στὴν δική του ἰδιοσυγκρασία. Βλ. Β. Σκουβαρᾶ, “Ἀνέκδοτο χαιρετιστήριο ἆσμα: ὁ Φίλιππος Ἰωάννου στὸν Ἰωάννη Καποδίστρια”, Ἑπτανησιακὴ Πρωτοχρονιά 1, 1960, 33–47, 45, καὶ ἑπόμενη σημείωση. Πατριαρχέας, Φίλιππος Ἰωάννου, 49. Τὸ μέγεθος τοῦ θαυμασμοῦ του γιὰ τὴν ἀρχαία ποίηση καὶ ἡ ὑποτιμητική του ἄποψη γιὰ τὶς νεώτερες ἑλληνικὲς ποιητικὲς συνθέσεις (θέση ποὺ ἀσφαλῶς δὲν συμμερίζεται ἡ σύγχρονη φιλολογικὴ ἔρευνα) φαίνονται καθαρὰ στὴν δήλωσή του (Φ. Ἰωάννου, Λόγος Ὀλυμπιακός, Ἀθῆναι 1871, 76–78) “ὅσον λαμπρὰ καὶ πλουσία ὑπῆρξεν ἡ ποίησις ἐν τῇ ἀρχαίᾳ Ἑλλάδι, τόσον μεγάλη ἡ πτωχεία αὐτῆς καὶ εὐτέλεια κατὰ τὰς τελευταίας ἑκατονταετηρίδας τῆς βυζαντινῆς αὐτοκρατορίας πολὺ δὲ μαγαλῃτέρα ἡ κατὰ τοὺς χρόνους τῆς δουλείας τοῦ γένους. Ὅταν λαὸς ὅλος καταπιέζηται φέρων σιδηροῦν ἐπὶ τοῦ τραχήλου κλοιόν…, πῶς δύναται νὰ τηρήσῃ τὴν ζωηρὰν ἐκείνην τοῦ πνεύματος ἐνέργειαν καὶ τὴν ἐλευθέραν πτῆσιν τῆς παραγωγικῆς φαντασίας, ἐξ ὧν γεννᾶται ἡ ποίησις;” Βλ. Πατριαρχέα, Φίλιππος Ἰωάννου, 46–47. Ἡ λογιότητα αὐτῶν τῶν ἐπιγραμμάτων κάνει τὸν Πατριαρχέα (Φίλιππος Ἰωάννου, 70) νὰ τὸν ἀποκαλέσει τὸν Ἕλληνα ἐπιγραμματοποιὸ τοῦ δεκάτου ἐνάτου αἰῶνος. Γιὰ ἄλλα “θαύματα” τῆς ἐποχῆς ἔγραψε καὶ τρία ἐπιγράμματα Εἰς τὴν ἀεροστατικὴν

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α.Θαῦμα τόδ’ ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ὁρώμεθα, νῆα πελώρην, λαίφεος ἠδ’ ἐρετμῶν ποντοπορεῦσαν ἄτερ. Ἦ ῥα Τυφάον’ ἔχει κύτος ἔνδοθι πουλυκάρηνον, Ταρτάρου ἠδ’ αἴης υἱέ’ ἀμαιμάκετον; Δὴ γὰρ καπνὸν τόσσον ἐρεύγεται, ὅσσον ἐκείνου ἶπος ἀπειρεσίη, Σικανίης μέγ’ ὄρος· σμερδνὸν δ’ ἐξανίησιν ἀπ’ αὐλοῦ μηκεδανοῖο σύριγμ’, οἷον ὄφεις ἐξ ἑκατὸν στομάτων· πῶς τέρατος τοίου ἐπιβήω; Νῆα πέφρικα ἶσα καὶ ἀφριόεν κῦμ’ ἁλὸς ἀτρυγέτου. β.Μηκέτ’ ἀητάων ταμίαν λιτανεύετε, ναῦται, οὖρον ἀπὸ σπείους ἴκμενον ὔμμ’ ἰέναι, Αἴολον ἱπποτάδην· ἁλινηχέσιν οὐκέτι χρειώ νηυσὶ λίνων λευκῶν, οὐκ ἐρετμῶν πλατέων. Ἠνίδ’ ὃν Ἡφαίστῳ γλαυκὴ φιλότητι μιγεῖσα υἷ’ Ἀμφιτρίτη γείναθ’ ὑπερμενέα, τούτῳ νῦν ἐπὶ πόντον ἐπέτραπε νῆας ἐλαύνειν μήτηρ, νηοπόρους ῥυομένη καμάτων. Ἦ ῥ’ ἀπέλεθρον ἔχει τὸ τέρας σθένος, ἐς πλέον αἰέν χῶρον ἐπεκτείνειν ὃν δέμας ἱέμενον.

Τὸ πρῶτο ἐπίγραμμα ἀρχίζει μὲ παρόμοιο τρόπο μὲ τὸ ἀντίστοιχο ἐπίγραμμα τοῦ Τανταλίδη (βλ. ἀνωτέρω), τοποθετώντας τὸ ποίημα σὲ Ὁμηρικὸ κλίμα· πέρα ἀπὸ τὴν ἐναρκτήρια φράση, Ὁμηρικὸ στοιχεῖο εἶναι, γιὰ παράδειγμα, τὸ σύνταγμα νῆα … ποντοπορεῦσαν, παραλλαγὴ τοῦ Ὁμηρικοῦ ναῦς ποντο­ πόρος (σὲ διάφορες πτώσεις: Ἰλ. 1.439, 2.771, 3.46, 7.72, κ. ἀ.), καί, ἰδιαιτέρως, ἀπήχηση τοῦ τῆς δὲ (sc. νηός) πανημερίης τέταθ’ ἱστία ποντοπορούσης, Ὀδ. 11.11. Ὅμως τὸ ἐπίγραμμα ἀντλεῖ κυρίως ἀπὸ ἐξω-ομηρικὲς πηγὲς τὴν ἔνταση καὶ τὴν παραστατικότητά του. Στοὺς στίχους 3 κ. ἑξ. ὁ Ἰωάννου συνδυάζει τὸ ἐπικὸ λεξιλόγιο καὶ τὸ Ὁμηρικὸ ὄνομα τῆς Σικελίας Σικανίη (Ὀδ. 24.307) μὲ τὴν εἰκόνα τοῦ ἑκατοκέφαλου Τυφῶνα ποὺ πιέζεται κάτω ἀπὸ τὸ βάρος τῆς Αἴτνας, ὅπως αὐτὴ ἀναπτύσσεται σὲ δύο Πινδαρικὰ χωρία τὴν φρασεολογία τῶν ὁποίων ἐν μέρει ἀναπαράγει / παραλλάσσει: Ὀλ. 4.6 κ. ἑξ. Αἴτναν … ἔχεις / ἶπον ἀνεμόεσσαν ἑκατογκεφάλα / Τυφῶνος ὀβρί­ μου, καὶ Πυθ. 1.16 Τυφὼς ἑκατοντακάρανος, 21 κ. ἑξ. (Αἴτνας) τᾶς ἐρεύγο­ νται μὲν ἀπλάτου πυρὸς ἁγνόταται / ἐκ μυχῶν παγαί· ποταμοὶ δ’ ἁμέραισιν / μὲν προχέοντι ῥόον καπνοῦ. Ἡ χρήση τοῦ Τυφῶνα ὡς μεταφορᾶς γιὰ τὸ ἀτμόπλοιο, τὸ ὁποῖο ὁ Ἰωάννου παρουσιάζει ὡς κάτι τὸ ὑπερφυσικό, ἀπηχεῖ περαιτέρω καὶ τὴν περιγραφή του ἴδιου τέρατος στὸν Προμηθέα Δεσμώτη, ὅπου εἶναι ἐπίσης ἑκατοντακάρανον (351) καὶ σμερδναῖσι γαμφηλαῖσι συρί­ ζων φόβον (355): ὁ Ἰωάννου χρησιμοποιεῖ τὸ [Αἰσχύλειο] λεξιλόγιο γιὰ νὰ σφαῖραν καὶ δύο Εἰς τὸν ἠλεκτρικὸν Τηλέγραφον (Πάρεργα, 394–395 καὶ 395–396).

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παραστήσει τὸν ἦχο τοῦ πλοίου τὸ ὁποῖο ἀντιλαμβάνεται, μὲ τὴν ἴδια χιουμοριστικὴ ὑπερβολὴ ποὺ εἴδαμε καὶ στὸν Τανταλίδη, ὡς τρομακτικὸ καὶ θορυβῶδες φίδι. Ἡ Ὁμηρικὴ ἀτμόσφαιρα ἐπιστρέφει καὶ κλείνει τὸ ἐπίγραμμα μὲ τὴν φράση ἶσα καὶ ἀφριόεν κῦμ(α), παραλλαγὴ τοῦ κύματά τε τροφόεντα (Ἰλ. 15.621 καὶ Ὀδ. 3.290· ἴσως ἀπηχεῖται συγκεκριμένα ὁ στίχος Ὀδ. 3.290 κύματά τε τροφόεντα πελώρια, ἶσα ὄρεσσιν), καὶ μὲ τὴν κατακλεῖδα ἁλὸς ἀτρυγέτου (ἁλὸς ἀτρυγέτοιο: Ἰλ. 1.316, 24.752, Ὀδ. 5.52, κ. ἀ.). Στὸ δεύτερο ἐπίγραμμα, ἐκτὸς ἀπὸ τὴν γενικὴ χρήση ἐπικοῦ λεξιλογίου, μέσον γιὰ τὴν δημιουργία Ὁμηρικῆς ἀτμόσφαιρας εἶναι καὶ οἱ ἀναφορὲς σὲ συγκεκριμένα Ὁμηρικὰ χωρία. Ἡ φράση οὖρον … ἴκμενον εἶναι Ὁμηρικὸς λογότυπος ποὺ χρησιμοποιεῖ καὶ ὁ Τανταλίδης στὰ ἴδια συμφραζόμενα (βλ. ἀνωτέρω), ἡ ἔκφραση ἀητάων ταμίην γιὰ τὸν Αἴολο ἀποτελεῖ παραλλαγὴ τοῦ κεῖνον γὰρ ταμίην ἀνέμων ποίησε Κρονίων (Ὀδ. 10.21), ἡ φράση Αἴολον Ἱπποτάδην βρίσκεται (σὲ ἄλλες πτώσεις) στὴν ἴδια ραψωδία τῆς Ὀδύσσειας (10.2 καὶ 10.36), καὶ τὸ σύνταγμα ἀπέλεθρον … σθένος βασίζεται στὸ ἶν’ ἀπέ­ λεθρον (Ἰλ. 5.245, 7.269, Ὀδ. 9.538). Παράλληλα, στὸ ἐπίγραμμα ἀπηχοῦνται καὶ χωρία ἄλλων ποιητῶν, ὅπως τοῦ Θεοκρίτου (21.55 γλαυκᾶς … Ἀμφι­ τρίτας) καὶ ἐπιγραμματοποιῶν τῆς Ἑλληνικῆς Ἀνθολογίας, μὲ τὸ σπάνιο ἐπίθετο ἁλινηχής (Φιλίππου ΠΑ 6.5, 1 ἁλινηχέα κώπην, Ἰουλιανοῦ 6.29, 1 ἁλινηχέος ὄργανα τέχνης) καὶ μὲ τὴν κατακλεῖδα τοῦ πενταμέτρου ῥυομένη καμάτων ποὺ παραλλάσσει τὸ παυσάμενος / ­αι καμάτων στὴν ἴδια μετρικὴ θέση (Λεωνίδου ΠΑ 6.289, 8, Ἀντιφίλου 6.95, 6, Μακηδονίου 6.30, 2 καὶ 6.73, 4 κ. ἀ.). Στὸ δεύτερο μισὸ τοῦ ἐπιγράμματος ὁ Ἰωάννου ἀνατρέπει τὰ μυθολογικὰ δεδομένα, παρουσιάζοντας τὴν φανταστικὴ συζυγία Ἡφαίστου καὶ Ἀμφιτρίτης,47 δηλαδὴ μηχανουργίας καὶ θάλασσας, ἀπὸ τὴν ὁποία προκύπτει ἡ ὑπερμενής ἀτμομηχανὴ ποὺ μπορεῖ νὰ ἐλαύνει νῆας. Ἔτσι, διατηρώντας τὴν μεταφορικότητα τοῦ πρώτου ἐπιγράμματος στὴν ὁποία τὸ ἀτμόπλοιο παρουσιάζεται μὲ σατιρικὸ πνεῦμα ὡς μυθολογικὸ τέρας, τὸ δεύτερο ἐπίγραμμα παραλλάσσει τὸ πρῶτο, ἐφόσον ἐκεῖ τὸ τέρας ἦταν ὁ Τυφῶνας, ἐνῶ ἐδῶ εἶναι ἕνα ad hoc ἐπινοημένο γέννημα δύο ἀρχαίων θεοτήτων. Γιὰ τὸν ναύαρχο Ἀνδρέα Μιαούλη48 ὁ Ἰωάννου συνέθεσε τέσσερα ἐπιτύμβια (Πάρεργα, 399–400): α.Ἄγχι Θεμιστοκλέους Μιαούλης ὁ κρατερόφρων ναυμάχος ἔνθ’ εὕδει ὕπνον ὀφειλόμενον. β.Δουλοσύνην τὸ πάροιθε Θεμιστοκλέης ἀπάλαλκεν Ἑλλάδος αὐτονόμου ᾗς πυκινῇς πραπίσιν· ἀλλὰ μενεπτόλεμος δεσποζομένην Μιαούλης νῦν αὖ Ἑλλάδ’ ἑῇ ῥύσατο καρτερίῃ· 47 48

Ἀντὶ γιὰ τὴν σύζευξη Ποσειδῶνα καὶ Ἀμφιτρίτης, ποὺ κατέληξε στὴ γέννηση τοῦ Τρίτωνα (πρβλ. Σχολ. στὸν Λυκόφρονα, στ. 34). Τῶν παιδιῶν τοῦ ὁποίου ὑπῆρξε δάσκαλος: βλ. Γ. Ζωχιό, Λόγος ἐκφωνηθεὶς ἐν τῇ Ριζαρείῳ Σχολῇ κατὰ τὸ μνημόσυνον τοῦ ἀειμνήστου καθηγητοῦ Φιλίππου Ἰωάννου, Ἀθῆναι 1880, 7, καὶ Πατριαρχέα, Φίλιππος Ἰωάννου, 13.

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τῷ ῥ’ ἀμφοῖν φωτοῖν ἁλιγείτονας ἐνθάδε τύμβους συμφύλων χεῖρες χεῦαν ἐπ’ ἠιόνι. Κείνου μὲν Σαλαμὶς ἐρέει κλέος ἀντιπεραίη, τοῦ δ’ ἁλὸς Αἰγαίης οἶδμά τε καὶ σπιλάδες. γ.Ἠρέμα ποντιάδες κρατεροῦ προσπνείετε τύμβῳ αὖραι ναυάρχου· πνείετε ἦκα, φίλαι· καὶ ῥ’ ἄνθεα ἀτιτάλλετ’ ἐύχροα, κόσμον ἀναύδου σήματος, οὗ κνώσσει Ἑλλάδος ὁ πρόμαχος. Μάνθανε δ’ ὃς παράγεις τὴν στήλην, ὡς Μιαούλην ἅζονται πνοιαὶ καὶ νέκυν ἁλίτυποι. δ.Ποντοπόρον βιοτὰν ἁλιδνεῖς τ’ ἄνυσ’ ἀέθλους, ἶφι πάτρας σεμνᾶς ἀμφιμαχεσσάμενος. Πολλὰ μὲν Ἑλλάνων ναυαρχῶν στίφεα ναῶν αὔτανδρ’ ἀντιπάλων ὤλεσ’ ἁλιπλανέων. Πολλὰ δ’ ἄρ’ ἐν πελάγεσσι τροπήια ἡμιφλεγέσσι ναῶν βαρβαρικῶν στᾶσα ποτ’ ἐν δρυόχοις. Τοὔνεκα μοιριδίῳ πότμῳ φάος ἔνθα λιπόντα τύμβευσαν μ’ ἀγχοῦ πόντου ἐριβρεμέος καὶ νέκυι ἀφριόεντος ἐμὶν πέλας ἁδὺς ἀκούειν κύματος ὁ φλοῖσβος, ναυσιβατῶν τε θρόος.

Σὲ αὐτὰ τὰ ἐπιγράμματα ὁ Ἰωάννου ἀξιοποιεῖ πολλαπλῶς ἀρχαῖα λογοτεχνικὰ δεδομένα ἀπὸ διάφορα εἴδη. Τὸ θέμα τῶν ἐπιγραμμάτων, ποὺ σκοπεύουν στὴν ἐξύμνηση τῶν ναυμαχικῶν κατορθωμάτων τοῦ Μιαούλη, προσκαλεῖ τὴν ἀνάκληση τῆς θρυλικῆς νίκης τῶν Ἑλλήνων, τῆς ναυμαχίας τῆς Σαλαμίνας, καὶ τὴν μνεία τοῦ πρωταγωνιστῆ της, καθὼς καὶ τὴν χρήση λεξιλογίου καὶ εἰκόνων ἀπὸ ἀφηγήσεις σχετικὲς μὲ τὰ Μηδικά, μεταξὺ τῶν ὁποίων βρίσκεται τὸ κατ’ ἐξοχὴν ἐκθειαστικὸ τῆς ἑλληνικῆς νίκης ἀρχαῖο ἔργο, οἱ Πέρσες τοῦ Αἰσχύλου.49 Ἔτσι, τὸ πρῶτο ἐπίγραμμα ἀρχίζει μὲ τὴν ἔμφαση στὴν ἀντιστοιχία τῶν δύο ἡρώων, Θεμιστοκλῆ καὶ Μιαούλη, καὶ στὸ γεωγραφικὸ δεδομένο τῆς ἐγγύτητας τῶν τάφων τους.50 Ἡ δουλοσύνη τῆς Ἑλλάδας τοῦ δευτέρου ἐπιγράμματος, τὴν ὁποίαν ἀποσόβησε ὁ Θεμι49

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Σχολιάζοντας τὴν ποίηση τοῦ Ἰωάννου σὲ σχέση καὶ μὲ τὴν ὅλη του κοσμοθεωρία, παρατηρεῖ ὁ Σκουβαρᾶς (Ἀνέκδοτο χαιρετιστήριο ἆσμα, 42) πὼς ὁ Φ. Ἰωάννου θεωρεῖ “ὅτι ὁ τιτανικὸς ἀγώνας, ποὺ κάνουν οἱ Ἕλληνες σὲ στεριὲς καὶ πέλαγα γιὰ νὰ λευτερωθοῦν, δὲν εἶναι παρὰ κάτι ἀνάλογο μὲ τοὺς πολέμους τῆς ἑλληνικῆς κλασσικῆς ἀρχαιότητας. Ἡ ἴδια ἀγωνιστικὴ προσπάθεια κεντρισμένη ἀπὸ παραπλήσια ἰδανικά. Τὸ ἱδρωμένο μέτωπο τοῦ μαχητῆ πρέπει νὰ τὸ στέψη ἕνα σιμωνίδειο δαφνοστέφανο”. Ὁ τάφος τοῦ Μιαούλη βρίσκεται στὴν λεγόμενη Ἀκτὴ Μιαούλη στὸν Πειραιᾶ. Στὸν Πειραιᾶ φημολογεῖτο ἤδη ἀπὸ τὴν ἀρχαιότητα ὅτι εἶχαν μεταφερθεῖ τὰ ὀστᾶ τοῦ Θεμιστοκλῆ ἀπὸ τὴν Μαγνησία τῆς Ἀσίας· αὐτὸ ἐπιβεβαιώνεται σήμερα μὲ ἀρχαιολογικὰ εὑρήματα τὰ ὁποῖα τοποθετοῦν κατὰ πᾶσα πιθανότητα τὸν “τάφο τοῦ Θεμιστοκλῆ” στὴν Ἀκτὴ Μιαούλη, ἐκεῖ ὅπου τοποθετεῖτο καὶ ἐπὶ Τουρκοκρατίας: βλ. P. W. Wallace, “The Tomb of Themistocles in the Peiraieus”, Hesperia 4, 1972, 451–462, 451 καὶ passim.

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στοκλῆς καὶ ἡ ὁποία ἐδῶ παραλληλίζεται μὲ τὴν Τουρκοκρατία, ἐμφανίζεται ἐπανειλημμένως (αὐτολεξεὶ ἢ μὲ ὁμόρριζά της) στὴν ἀρχαία γραμματεία γιὰ νὰ περιγράψει τὸν σκοπὸ τῶν Περσῶν καὶ τοῦ Ξέρξη ἰδιαιτέρως.51 Στὸ τρίτο ἐπίγραμμα τὸ ἐπίθετο ἁλίτυπος ἀπηχεῖ τὸ Αἰσχύλειο ἁλίτυπά τε βάρη (Περσ. 945) ποὺ ἀναφέρεται στὴν ἧττα τῶν Περσῶν στὴν Σαλαμίνα,52 καὶ στὸ τέταρτο ἐπίγραμμα τὰ στίφεα ναῶν τοῦ ἐχθροῦ (ἐδῶ τῶν Τούρκων) θυμίζουν τὸ ἐπίσης Αἰσχύλειο νεῶν στῖφος τῶν Περσῶν (Περσ. 366) καὶ ἡ φράση ναῶν βαρβαρικῶν βασίζεται στὰ βαρβάρων / ναῦς (Περσ. 337 κ. ἑξ.) καὶ πᾶσα ναῦς … / … βαρβάρου στρατεύματος (Περσ. 422 κ. ἑξ.). Ἀναφορὰ στὰ Μηδικὰ γίνεται καὶ ἐκτὸς τῶν ὁρίων τῆς ναυμαχίας τῆς Σαλαμίνας: ἡ περιγραφὴ τοῦ ἥρωα τοῦ 1821 ὡς προμάχου τῆς Ἑλλάδος στὸ τρίτο ἐπίγραμμα θυμίζει τὸν πρῶτο στίχο (Ἑλλήνων προμαχοῦντες Ἀθηναῖοι Μαρα­ θῶνι) τοῦ περίφημου ἐπιγράμματος ποὺ παραδίδει ὁ ρήτορας Λυκοῦργος (Κατὰ Λεωκράτους 109) καὶ ποὺ ἀποδιδόταν παραδοσιακὰ στὸν Σιμωνίδη,53 γιὰ τὴν πρώτη σπουδαία Ἑλληνικὴ νίκη κατὰ τῶν Περσῶν. Παράλληλα, τὸ ἐπικὸ λεξιλόγιο τονίζει τὸ μαχητικὸ σθένος τοῦ Μιαούλη τὸ πρόσωπο καὶ οἱ πράξεις τοῦ ὁποίου μάλιστα περιγράφονται μὲ ὅρους ποὺ ταιριάζουν σὲ Ὁμηρικοὺς πολεμιστὲς καὶ ἔτσι τὸν τοποθετοῦν στὸ ὕψιστο ἐπίπεδο ἡρωϊσμοῦ ποὺ ἀγγίζει τὸν θρύλο. Στὸ δεύτερο ἐπίγραμμα ἔχουμε τὸ ἐπίθετο μενεπτόλεμος ποὺ ἐμφανίζεται στὸν Ὅμηρο κυρίως γιὰ τοὺς Ἀχαιοὺς Πολυποίτη (Ἰλ. 2.740, 6.29, 23.836 καὶ 844) καὶ Θρασυμήδη (Ἰλ. 10.255, Ὀδ. 3.442), καθὼς ἐπίσης καὶ γιὰ τὸν Διομήδη (Ἰλ. 19.48)· ἐπιπλέον ἔχουμε τὴν φράση τύμβους / … χεῦαν ποὺ χρησιμοποιεῖται συνήθως γιὰ τὴν ταφὴ τῶν νεκρῶν Ἀχαιῶν στὸν Ὅμηρο (Ἰλ. 7.336, Ὀδ. 4.584, 12.14, 24.80 κ. ἑξ.), ταφὴ ποὺ πραγματοποιεῖται ἀπὸ τοὺς συντρόφους τους, ὅπως καὶ στὴν περίπτωση τοῦ Μιαούλη (συμφύλων χεῖρες).54 Στὸ τέταρτο ἐπίγραμμα ἔχουμε τὴν φράση ἶφι … ἀμφεμαχεσσάμενος, ποὺ συνδυάζει τὴν κατακλεῖδα ἶφι μάχεσθαι (Ἰλ. 1.151, 2.720, 4.287, 5.606, κ. ἀ.) μὲ τὸ ρῆμα ἀμφιμάχομαι (Ἰλ. 9.412, 16.73, 16.496, κ. ἀ.). Ὁ τάφος τοῦ Μιαούλη εἶναι δίπλα στὴ θάλασσα. Ἐκεῖ βρίσκεται καὶ ὁ τάφος τῶν Ἀχαιῶν ποὺ σκοτώθηκαν στὴν Τροία (ἀκτῇ ἔπι προὐχούσῃ), ἔτσι ὥστε νὰ μαρτυρεῖται εὐρέως ἡ δόξα τους, σύμφωνα μὲ τὴν ἀφήγηση τῆς Ὀδύσσειας, ἀμέσως μετὰ ἀπὸ τὴν περιγραφὴ τῆς ταφῆς τους μὲ τὴν φράση 51

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Π.χ. Ἡροδ. 7.102 λόγους δουλοσύνην φέροντας τῇ Ἑλλάδι, Θουκ. 1.18, 2 δεκάτῳ δὲ ἔτει μετ’ αὐτὴν (sc. τὴν μάχη τοῦ Μαραθῶνος) αὖθις ὁ βάρβαρος τῷ μεγάλῳ στόλῳ ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα δουλωσόμενος ἦλθεν, Αἰσχ. Περσ. 50 ζυγὸν ἀμφιβαλεῖν δούλιον Ἑλλάδι, κ. ἀ. Ἄλλη μιὰ φορὰ τὸ ἐπίθετο ἐμφανίζεται στὸν Εὐριπίδη (Ὀρ. 373). Τὸ ἐπίγραμμα ἐκδίδεται ἀπὸ τὸν Page ὡς “Σιμωνίδου” XXI. Γιὰ τὴν ὁμάδα τῶν “Σιμωνιδείων” ἐπιγραμμάτων ποὺ ἀναφέρονται στοὺς Περσικοὺς πολέμους, βλ. D. L. Page, Further Greek Epigrams, Καῖμπριτζ 1981, 219–238. Ἡ σύγχρονη τάση εἶναι νὰ μὴ θεωρεῖται τὸ ἐπίγραμμα, ποὺ ἴσως βρισκόταν στὸ μνημεῖο τῶν πεσόντων στὸν Μαραθῶνα, γνήσιο Σιμωνίδειο. Βλ. καὶ J. Engels, Lykurg, Rede gegen Leokrates, Ντάρμστατ 2008, 165. Ἰλ. 7.336 τύμβον … ἕνα χεύομεν, Ὀδ. 4.584 χεῦ’ Ἀγαμέμνονι τύμβον, 12.14 τύμβον χεύαντες (γιὰ τὴν ταφὴ τοῦ Ἐλπήνορα), 24.80 κ. ἑξ. τύμβον / χεύαμεν Ἀργείων ἱερὸς στρατὸς αἰχμητάων.

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χεύω τύμβον (Ὀδ. 24.82 κ. ἑξ.)55 ποὺ χρησιμοποιεῖ καὶ ὁ Ἰωάννου, ὅπως εἴδαμε, στὸ δεύτερο ἐπίγραμμα. Ἐκεῖ βρίσκεται, ἀσφαλῶς, καὶ ὁ τάφος τοῦ Ἐλπήνορα τοῦ ὁποίου ἡ ταφὴ περιγράφεται μὲ τὴν ἴδια φράση, χεύω τύμ­ βον (Ὀδ. 12.14): ὅθ’ ἀκροτάτη πρόεχ’ ἀκτή (Ὀδ. 12.11)· ἡ γειτνίαση τοῦ τάφου του μὲ τὴν θάλασσα ἦταν καὶ τὸ αἴτημα τοῦ Ἐλπήνορα ὅταν τὸν συνάντησε ὁ Ὀδυσσέας στὸν Ἅδη, μὲ τὸ ἴδιο σκεπτικὸ περὶ ὑστεροφημίας (Ὀδ. 11.75–76).56 Ἡ ὑστεροφημία τοῦ Μιαούλη, στὸ τέλος τοῦ δευτέρου ἐπιγράμματος, ἔγκειται καὶ αὐτὴ στὴν θάλασσα / ἐξαρτᾶται ἀπὸ τὴν θάλασσα, ἐφόσον ἡ θάλασσα ἀπετέλεσε συγχρόνως καὶ πεδίο δράσεώς του καὶ τὸ φυσικὸ στοιχεῖο ποὺ συνδέεται μὲ τὸ μνῆμα του· ἐδῶ βέβαια ἡ ἔμφαση δίδεται στὴν φήμη μέσῳ τῆς θάλασσας ὡς περιβάλλοντος τῶν κατορθωμάτων τοῦ ἥρωα. Γιὰ τὸ μοτίβο ποὺ ἀνακαλεῖται μὲ τὸ ἀφριόεν κῦμα τοῦ τετάρτου ἐπιγράμματος, βλ. ἀνωτέρω: ὁ Ἰωάννου παραλλάσσει τὴν φράση ποὺ χρησιμοποιεῖ καὶ στὸ πρῶτο του ἐπίγραμμα Εἰς ναῦν ἀτμόπλουν. Τὴν παραλλαγὴ αὐτὴν τὴν συνδυάζει μὲ ἀνάμνηση τοῦ Ὁμηρικοῦ συντάγματος κῦμα πολυφλοί­ σβοιο θαλάσσης (Ἰλ. 2.209, 6.347, λίγο διαφορετικὰ στὸν 13.798), καὶ ἴσως ὁ ἐριβρεμὴς πόντος τοῦ στ. 8 ἀπηχεῖ τὴν συνέχεια τοῦ στίχου 2.209 τῆς Ἰλιάδας, αἰγιαλῷ μεγάλῳ βρέμεται. Ὁ Ἰωάννου συνυφαίνει τὴν ἐπικὴ φρασεολογία καὶ μὲ ἐπιτύμβια μοτίβα, ὅπως ἁρμόζει στὴν περίσταση. Τὸ πρῶτο ἐπίγραμμα κλείνει μὲ τὴν φράση εὕδει ὕπνον ὀφειλόμενον, ἀναπαραγωγὴ ἑνὸς στίχου τοῦ Μελεάγρου ποὺ ἀνάγεται σὲ Καλλιμάχειο πρότυπο.57 Στὸ τρίτο ἐπίγραμμα καλεῖ τὰ φυσικὰ στοιχεῖα νὰ πλαισιώσουν τὸν τάφο μὲ τὴν ὀμορφιά τους ἡ ὁποία δημιουργεῖ ἕνα εἰδυλλιακὸ τοπίο, ἕναν locum amoenum, ὅπως ἔκαναν Ἑλληνιστικοὶ καὶ μεταγενέστεροι ποιητὲς ποὺ συνέθεσαν ἐπιδεικτικὰ ἐπιτύμβια γιὰ τὸν Ἀνακρέοντα (Ἀντίπατρος Σιδώνιος ΠΑ 7.23, [Σιμωνίδης] 7.24, Διοσκορίδης 7.31) καὶ γιὰ τὸν Σοφοκλῆ (Σιμίας 7.22, Ἐρύκιος 7.36· ὁ Σιμίας, ἀρχίζει τὸ ποίημα ἐπίσης μὲ τὸ ἐπίρρημα ἠρέμα).58 Ἡ προσφώνηση στὸν διαβάτη, στὸ τέλος τοῦ ἴδιου ἐπιγράμματος, μὲ σκοπὸ τὴν γνωστοποίηση σὲ αὐτὸν ἑνὸς μηνύματος εἴτε μὲ συμβατικὲς πρακτικὲς πληροφορίες εἴτε μὲ πιὸ ἰδιαίτερο περιεχόμενο, εἶναι διαδεδομένος ἀρχαῖος ἐπιγραμματικὸς τόπος.59 Σὲ ἐπιτύμβιο γιὰ διάσημο πρόσωπο, πρβλ. τὴν ἔκκληση στὸν διαβάτη νὰ “μάθει”, 55 56 57

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ἀκτῇ ἔπι προὐχούσῃ, ἐπὶ πλατεῖ Ἑλλησπόντῳ, / ὥς κεν τηλεφανὴς ἐκ ποντόφιν ἀνδρά­ σιν εἴη / τοῖσ’, οἳ νῦν γεγάασι καὶ οἳ μετόπισθεν ἔσονται. σῆμά τέ μοι χεῦαι πολιῆς ἐπὶ θινὶ θαλάσσης, /… καὶ ἐσσομένοισι πυθέσθαι. Καλλιμάχου ΠΑ 7.459, 3 κ. ἑξ. ἡ δ’ ἀποβρίζει / ἐνθάδε τὸν πάσαις ὕπνον ὀφειλόμενον, Μελεάγρου 7.419, 2 εὕδει κοιμηθεὶς ὕπνον ὀφειλόμενον. Ἄλλες μιμήσεις: Πομπηίου Νεωτέρου 7.219, 4 ἐκοιμήθη δ’ ὕπνον ὀφειλόμενον, Διονυσίου 7.78, 2 εὐνήθης δ’ ὕπνον ὀφειλόμενον. Ἐνδεικτικὰ ἀξίζει νὰ παρατεθεῖ τὸ ἐπίγραμμα τοῦ Σιμία: ἠρέμ’ ὑπὲρ τύμβοιο Σοφο­ κλέος, ἠρέμα, κισσέ, / ἑρπύζοις χλοεροὺς ἐκπροχέων πλοκάμους, / καὶ πέταλον πάντῃ θάλλοι ῥόδου ἥ τε φιλορρὼξ / ἄμπελος ὑγρὰ πέριξ κλήματα χευαμένη, / εἵνεκεν εὐμα­ θίης πινυτόφρονος, ἣν ὁ μελιχρὸς / ἤσκησεν Μουσῶν ἄμμιγα καὶ Χαρίτων. Μὲ παρόμοια περιγραφὴ τοῦ περάσματος τοῦ διαβάτη, πρβλ. Kaibel, Epigrammata 517=2036, 11 κ. ἑξ. Peek, Vers-Inschriften (Ἔδεσσα, 3–4ος αἰ. μ.Χ.) ὃς τὸν ἐμὸν παρὰ τύμβον ἄγεις, Τίτον ἴσθι Φιλίππου / πατρὸς Ἐδεσσαῖον παῖδά με καὶ Μαρίας.

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ἴσθ’ (ἕνα γεωγραφικὸ παράλληλο), στὸ ἐπιδεικτικὸ ἐπιτύμβιο τοῦ Ἀντιπάτρου Σιδωνίου γιὰ τὸν Ὅμηρο (ΠΑ 7.2, 9). Πέρα καὶ ἀπὸ τὶς ἐπιτύμβιες, ἡ ὁμάδα τῶν ἐπιγραμμάτων γιὰ τὸν Μιαούλη φέρει καὶ ἄλλες ἀρχαῖες ἀναφορές. Σὲ ὅλα τὰ ποιήματα, ὅπως φαίνεται ἰδιαιτέρως μὲ τὴν φράση ποντιάδες … αὖραι τοῦ τρίτου ἐπιγράμματος, μαρτυρεῖται ἐπίδραση λεξιλογίου ἀπὸ τοὺς στίχους 444 κ. ἑξ. τῆς Εὐριπίδειας Ἑκάβης: αὔρα, ποντιὰς αὔρα, / ἅτε ποντοπόρους κομί­ / ζεις θοὰς ἀκάτους ἐπ’ οἶδμα λίμνας / (…) / τῷ δουλόσυ­ νος πρὸς οἶ­ / κον κτηθεῖσ’ ἀφίξομαι; Μὲ τὴν χρήση τῶν εἰκόνων τοῦ Εὐριπιδείου χορικοῦ ἴσως ὑπογραμμίζεται ἡ ἀντίθεση μεταξὺ τῆς θάλασσας ἐκεῖ, ποὺ γιὰ τὶς γυναῖκες τῆς Τροίας σημαίνει δουλοσύνην, καὶ τῆς ἴδιας θάλασσας ἐδῶ (ἁλὸς Αἰγαίης οἶδμα, στὸ δεύτερο ἐπίγραμμα), ποὺ ἀπετέλεσε τὸ πεδίο τῆς δόξας τοῦ Μιαούλη καὶ μέσο γιὰ τὴν κατάκτηση τῆς Ἑλληνικῆς ἐλευθερίας. Ἡ ἀντιστοιχία μεταξὺ τῶν ὅρων δουλοσύνην καὶ δεσποζομένην γιὰ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, ὅρων ποὺ περιγράφουν τὴν κατάσταση ποὺ καταργήθηκε (ἀπεφεύχθη, στὴν περίπτωση τοῦ Θεμιστοκλῆ) ἀπὸ τὶς πράξεις τοῦ Θεμιστοκλῆ καὶ τοῦ Μιαούλη, ὑπάρχει καὶ στὴν Ἑκάβη, γιὰ νὰ ἀποδώσει τὴν σκλαβιὰ τῶν Τρωάδων: δεσποσύνους σκηνὰς προλιποῦσ’ / (…) / δούλη (99 κ. ἑξ.). Πέραν αὐτῶν, εἶναι ἐνδιαφέρων καὶ ὁ ὅρος δρύοχος τοῦ τετάρτου ἐπιγράμματος. Σὲ συνεργασία μὲ δύο πλωτάρχες, τὸν Λ. Παλάσκα καὶ τὸν Ἀ. Κουμελᾶ, ὁ Ἰωάννου συνέταξε ἕνα λεξικὸ ναυτικῆς ὁρολογίας, τὸ Ναυτικὸν Ὀνοματολόγιον, συχνὰ ἀντλώντας ἀπὸ τὴν ἀρχαία Ἑλληνικὴ λέξεις μὲ τὶς ὁποῖες ἀντικαθιστᾶ ξενικοὺς ὅρους ποὺ μέχρι τότε χρησιμοποιοῦσαν οἱ ναυτικοί. Ἡ λέξη δρύοχος ὑπάρχει ἤδη στὸν Ὅμηρο (Ὀδ. 19.574) καὶ ὁ Εὐστάθιος, στὸ σχόλιό του στὸ χωρίο, δίνει μιὰ ἀναλυτικὴ ἐξήγησή της·60 στὸν Ἀπολλώνιο Ρόδιο (1.723 κ. ἑξ.), σὲ ἀναφορὰ στὴ ναυπήγηση τῆς Ἀργῶς, ἔχουμε τὴν φράση δρυόχους … νηός / Ἀργοῦς. Μὲ τὸν ἴδιον ὅρο, ποὺ τὸ Ὀνομαστικόν τοῦ Πολυδεύκους ἀναφέρει ὡς μέρος τοῦ πλοίου61 καὶ ἡ Σούδα ἐξηγεῖ ὡς πάτταλοι, οἱ ἐντιθέμενοι ναυπηγουμένης νεώς, ὁ Ἰωάννου ἀποδίδει στὸ λεξικό του τὸ madrier, la pièce de quille (Ἰωάννου κ. ἄ., Ὀνομα­ τολόγιον Ναυτικόν, Ἀθῆναι 1858, 7).

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Εὐστ. Σχολ. Ὀδ. 2.221, 1 κ. ἑξ. δρύοχοι δὲ κυρίως πάσσαλοι, ἐφ’ ὧν στοιχηδὸν διατεθει­ μένων ἡ τρόπις ἵσταται τῶν καινουργουμένων πλοίων διὰ ἰσότητα. καὶ ἄλλως δὲ εἰπεῖν, δρύοχοι πάτταλοι ἐκ δρυὸς, ὅ ἐστιν ἁπλῶς ξύλου, καθιστῶντες τὴν τρόπιν ἐν τῷ πέριξ αὐτὴν συνέχειν. Τὰ ἄλλα μέρη στὸ ἴδιο λῆμμα: τρόπις, τρόπιδες, τροπίδια, στεῖρα, τροποί.

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11.3 ΒΑΣΙΛΕΙΟΣ ΣΜΥΡΝΗΣ Ὁ Βασίλειος (1834–1910)62 ὑπῆρξε μητροπολίτης ἀρχικὰ Ἀγχιάλου (1865– 1884) καὶ μετὰ Σμύρνης, ἀπὸ τὸ 1884 μέχρι τὸν θάνατό του. Φοίτησε στὴν Θεολογικὴ Σχολὴ τῆς Χάλκης ἀπὸ τὸ 1853 ἕως τὸ 1860, ὅπου παρουσίασε ἰδιαίτερες ἐπιδόσεις στὰ ἀρχαῖα Ἑλληνικὰ καὶ στὰ Λατινικὰ καὶ ἀνέπτυξε ἤδη ὡς μαθητὴς συγγραφικὴ δράση63 ὑπὸ τὴν καθοδήγηση τοῦ καθηγητῆ του Ἠλία Τανταλίδη. Ἐπέστρεψε στὴ Σχολὴ ὡς διεθυντής της ἀπὸ τὸ 1870 μέχρι τὸ 1876.64 Ἦταν ἰδιαίτερα παραγωγικός, συγγράφοντας ἔργα κυρίως θεολογικοῦ περιεχομένου, ἀλλὰ καὶ δοκίμια γενικότερου ἐνδιαφέροντος:65 μάλιστα κάποιοι λόγοι του μεταφράστηκαν στὰ Ἀγγλικὰ ἀπὸ τὴν “ἑταιρεία γιὰ τὴν προώθηση τῆς Χριστιανικῆς γνώσεως”.66 Τὰ ἐπιγράμματα τοῦ Βασιλείου, συγκεντρωμένα σὲ ἕνα τόμο, εἶναι γραμμένα σὲ καθαρὰ ἐπικὴ διάλεκτο καὶ σὲ ἐλεγειακὸ δίστιχο. Βρίθουν ἀναφορῶν σὲ ἀρχαῖα ἐπιτύμβια, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀπηχήσεων τοῦ Ὁμήρου καὶ ἄλλων ἀρχαίων ποιητῶν. Ἀναφορὲς σὲ ἀρχαῖα ἐπιτύμβια ἔχει τὸ ἐπίγραμμα γιὰ τὸ ζεῦγος Χρυσὸ καὶ Βαλάσα Χρυσοπούλου (Βασίλειος Μητροπολίτης Σμύρνης, Διάφορα Ἐπιγράμματα Βασιλείου Μητροπολίτου Σμύρνης τοῦ ἀπὸ Ἀγχιάλου καὶ διαφόρων ἄλλων, Σμύρνη 1906, 7):

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Σῶμα μὲν ὧδε Χρυσοῦ καὶ ἑῆς ἀλόχοιο Βαλάσης ἥδ’ εὔξεστος πλὰξ μαρμαρέη ὑπέχει, αὐτὰρ πνεύματα τῶν σκηνώμασ’ ἐν οὐρανίοισι τέρπεται εὐσεβίης ἔξοχον ἀντίδοσιν. Οὓς λάτριας γὰρ Ἄναξ Χριστὸς βίοτον μετέβησε πρὸς μάκαρ’ ἐκ φλαύρου, κάδδ’ ἔβαλεν θάνατον. Κατὰ τὸν Διαμαντόπουλο (Βασίλειος, 150), πέθανε στὶς 23 Ἰανουαρίου 1910. Σύμφωνα μὲ ἄλλους, ἔτος θανάτου του θεωρεῖται τὸ 1909: βλ. Κ. Α. Βοβολίνη, Ἡ ἐκκλησία εἰς τὸν ἀγῶνα τῆς ἐλευθερίας, 1453–1953, Ἀθήνα 20033, 255, R. A. Klostermann, Erzbischof Basileios von Smyrna, Γκότεμποργκ 1962, 7. Μὲ τὴν ἔκδοση Προλεγομένων σὲ ὁμιλίες τοῦ Γρηγορίου Παλαμᾶ καὶ στὴν Ἀκολουθία τῆς Ἁγίας Εὐφημίας. Βλ. Διαμαντόπουλο, Βασίλειος, 151 μὲ σημ. 1. Γιὰ τὶς λεπτομέρειες τῆς σταδιοδρομίας του, βλ. Διαμαντόπουλο, Βασίλειος, 150–163 καὶ passim. Γιὰ δοκίμια εὐρύτερου περιεχομένου (συνήθως βέβαια ὄχι στερούμενα στοχασμοῦ μὲ θρησκευτικὲς προεκτάσεις), πρβλ. Βασιλείου, Μητροπολίτου Ἀγχιάλου, Σκέψεις καὶ Μελέται: τόμος πρῶτος, Χαρακτῆρες καὶ Εἰκόνες (Ἀθῆναι 1906), μὲ κεφάλαια ὅπως “Πρωινὴ ἐκδρομή”, “Εἰς τὸν ἐγκέφαλόν μου”, κ. ἀ. Addresses and Sermons by Basil, Archbishop of Smyrna, translated (with his permission) by Rev. A. Baker, R. N. (London 1897). Ὅπως ἀναφέρει στὸν πρόλογό του ὁ μεταφραστής, ἡ συνάντησή του στὴν Σμύρνη μὲ τὸν Βασίλειο καὶ ἡ γνωριμία μὲ ἕνα μέρος τοῦ ἔργου του ὑπῆρξαν τὰ ἐναύσματα τῆς μεταφραστικῆς του προσπάθειας. Ἡ ἑταιρεία (Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge) προλογίζει τὸ ἔργο ὡς ἑξῆς: “The following work having been submitted to the S.P.C.K. for publication, the Tract Committee –in consideration of the growing interest among Anglican Churchmen both at home and abroad as to the doctrines held by our fellow Christians in the Ancient Eastern Churches- have thought it well to publish it as showing what is the authoritative teaching of the pulpit in the Orthodox Eastern Church”.

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Εἰ δ’ ἀμφ’ αὐτοῖν, ξεῖν’, ἔρεαί τι, σαφῶς ἐπίγνωθι ὡς Χρυσοπούλων οἵδ’ ἡγεμόνες πατριῆς. Ἡ διαφοροποίηση τῆς τύχης σώματος καὶ ψυχῆς εἶναι χαρακτηριστικὴ τῶν Χριστιανικῶν ἐπιγραμμάτων (πρβλ. Ἀνων. ΠΑ 7.689, Γρηγορίου 8.33, 1 κ. ἑξ., κ. ἀ.), ἀλλὰ δὲν ἀπουσιάζουν καὶ ἀπὸ μὴ Χριστιανικὰ ἐπιτύμβια (πρβλ. Kaibel, Epigrammata 21=20, 5 κ. ἑξ. Peek, Vers-Inschriften [Ἀθήνα, 5ος αἰ. π.Χ.], Ἀνων. ΠΑ 7.570, 3 κ. ἑξ., Σπευσίππου ΠλΑ 31). Τὸ μοτίβο τῆς πέτρας ποὺ καλύπτει ζεῦγος ἐμφανίζεται σὲ ἀρχαῖα ἐπιτύμβια, εἴτε λογοτεχνικὰ εἴτε πραγματικά·67 ἡ πρώτη φράση τοῦ ἐπιγράμματος μοιάζει ἐξαιρετικὰ μὲ τὸ πρῶτο δίστιχο ἐπιτύμβιας ἐπιγραφῆς τῆς Ρωμαϊκῆς περιόδου γιὰ νεκρὸ ἀνδρόγυνο.68 Ἡ χρήση κλασσικῶν συμβάσεων τοῦ εἴδους, ὅπως ἡ ἀναφορὰ στὴν ταφόπλακα στὴν ἀρχὴ τοῦ ποιήματος καὶ ὁ ρητορικὸς διάλογος μὲ τὸν “ξένο” στὸ τελευταῖο δίστιχο, ἀποσκοποῦν στὸ νὰ μεταφέρουν τὸ λογοτεχνικὸ αὐτὸ ἐπιτύμβιο ὅσο γίνεται πλησιέστερα στὰ ἀρχαῖα του πρότυπα.69 Ἐπιτυχὴς συνδυασμὸς Χριστιανικῶν ἰδεῶν μὲ τὸ ἐπικὸ χρῶμα γίνεται στὴν φράση κάδδ’ ἔβαλεν θάνατον, τῆς ὁποίας πρότυπο εἶναι τὸ Ὁμηρικὸ κὰδ δ’ ἔβαλε κρατερῶς (Ὀδ. 4.344 καὶ 17.135), ποὺ περιγράφει τὴν νίκη σὲ πάλη τοῦ Ὀδυσσέα ἐπὶ κάποιου βασιλιᾶ τῆς Λέσβου. Ὁ Βασίλειος διατυπώνει τὴν παραδοσιακὴ ἔννοια τῆς νίκης τοῦ Χριστοῦ ἐπὶ τοῦ θανάτου διατηρώντας τὴν ἔκφραση “κατέβαλε τὸν θάνατον” ποὺ ἀπαντᾶται ἐνίοτε στὴν Χριστιανικὴ γραμματεία,70 ἀλλὰ μεταφέροντάς την στὸ ἐπικό της ἀντίστοιχο: ἔτσι σκιαγραφεῖ τὸν Χριστὸ ὡς ἕναν ἥρωα ποὺ κατατροπώνει κυριολεκτικὰ καὶ μὲ ἐπικὸ δυναμισμὸ τὸν ἀντίπαλο. Ἀξιοποίηση ἀρχαίων ποιητικῶν μοτίβων γίνεται καὶ στὸ ἐπιτύμβιο γιὰ τὸν Μητροπολίτη Ἀγχιάλου Σωφρόνιο (τὸν τρίτο), ὁ ὁποῖος ἀπεβίωσε τὸ 1867, δύο ἔτη μετὰ τὴν παραίτησή του ἀπὸ τὴν ἀρχιερατεία, διάστημα κατὰ τὸ ὁποῖο τὸν φρόντισε ὁ διάδοχός του Βασίλειος.71 Τὸ ποίημα, ποὺ χαράχθηκε στὸν νάρθηκα τοῦ ναοῦ τῶν Ταξιαρχῶν,72 ἔχει ὡς ἑξῆς (Βασίλειος Ἐπιγράμματα, 4): 67 68 69 70

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Π.χ. Ἀπολλωνίδου ΠΑ 7.378 (στ. 3: ἄμφω δ’, ὡς συνέναιον, ὑπὸ πλακὶ τυμβεύονται)· βλ. καὶ ἑπόμενη σημείωση. Kaibel, Epigrammata 341=08/06/08, 1 κ. ἑξ. Merkelbach καὶ Stauber, Steinepigramme (στὴν κοιλάδα τοῦ ποταμοῦ Μακέστου, 237–238 μ.Χ.) σῶ μα π έτρος κατέ[χ]ει τὸ Λεωνίδα / σὺν γαμετῇ ἁγνῇ Ἀφροδεισί[ᾳ. Γιὰ παραδείγματα διαλόγου μὲ τὸν “ξένο” στὴν Ἀνθολογία, πρβλ. Λεωνίδου ΠΑ 7.660, Νοσσίδος 7.718. Γιὰ τὸν τύπο προσφωνήσεως στὸν διαβάτη “ἂν ρωτᾶς, ξένε, …τότε μάθε …”, βλ. Peek, Vers-Inschriften 1334–1339. Γιὰ παράδειγμα, στὸν Ἰωάννη τὸν Χρυσόστομο (Ἑλλ. Πατρ. Migne 50.458,35, 52.770, 25–26). Πρβλ. καὶ Μ. Ἀθανάσιο, Ἑλλ. Πατρ. Migne 27.280, 51 πατήσαντος τοῦ Κυρίου τὸν θάνατον, Ἑλλ. Πατρ. Migne 27.388, 55 πατήσας τὸν θάνατον καὶ σκυλεύσας τὸν ᾅδην. Ἡ περιγραφὴ τῆς νίκης τοῦ Χριστοῦ ἐπὶ τοῦ θανάτου μὲ τὴν ἔκφραση “ἐσκύλευσε τὸν Ἅδην” ὑπάρχει σὲ ἀρκετοὺς συγγραφεῖς (ὅπως, γιὰ παράδεγμα, στὸν Κύριλλο Ἀλεξανδρείας) καὶ σὲ ἐκκλησιαστικὰ κείμενα καὶ ἤδη ἀποτελεῖ στοιχεῖο παραλληλισμοῦ τοῦ Χριστοῦ μὲ ἐπικὸ ἥρωα-πολεμιστή. Βλ. Διαμαντόπουλο, Βασίλειος, 153–154. Βλ. Διαμαντόπουλο, Βασίλειος, 154.

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Σῆμα τόδ’ ἔνδοθι Σωφρονίου ἱρὸν δέμας ἴσχει, τὸν τέκε Ῥαιδεστός, ποιμένος Ἀγχιάλου. Ὀκτάκις ἐννέα μὲν τολύπευσ’ ὁ μάκαρ λυκάβαντας, νούσου ἐξ ὀλοῆς ζωόνεκρος τελέθων τετράετες κάμνεν, καὶ δόξαζ’ εἵνεκα πάντων Παγκρατέοντα Θεόν, τοῦ πέλε μυστοπόλος. Τῷ ῥα νέκυς τῇδ’ οἱ ἀμπαύετ’ ἐγέρσιμον ὕπνον τῷ Μεσσημβρείης Γρηγορίου ἅμα, ψυχὴ δ’ ἀΐξασ’ αἰγλῆεν βήσατο δῶμα, ἔνθ’ ἀνδρῶν δῆμος ναιετάει μακάρων.

Παράλληλα μὲ τὴν χρήση τῶν κλασσικῶν ἐπιτυμβίων μοτίβων, ὅπως ἡ γνωστοποίηση τοῦ ὀνόματος, τῆς καταγωγῆς, τῆς ἰδιότητας καὶ τῆς ἡλικίας τοῦ νεκροῦ καὶ τῆς αἰτίας τοῦ θανάτου του, πληροφορίες ἐκφραζόμενες μὲ ἐπικὴ / ἐπιγραμματικὴ ὁρολογία ὅπως σῆμα … δέμας ἴσχει,73 τολύπευσε,74 λυκάβαντας,75 ἡ ἀνάμειξη ἀρχαιοελληνικῶν καὶ Χριστιανικῶν στοιχείων εἶναι καὶ ἐδῶ αἰσθητὴ σὲ κάθε δίστιχο. Ἐντυπωσιακὴ εἶναι ἡ σκόπιμη ἀντιστροφὴ τῆς κλασσικῆς φράσεως νήγρετος ὕπνος, χρησιμοποιούμενης ἤδη ἀπὸ τὸν Ὅμηρο γιὰ τὸν βαθὺ ὕπνο (Ὀδ. 13.74, 13.80) ποὺ πλησιάζει στὸν θάνατο (Ὀδ. 13.80 θανάτῳ ἄγχιστα ἐοικώς), ἡ ὁποία ἔγινε μεταγενεστέρως καθαρὰ συνώνυμη τοῦ θανάτου (π.χ. [Μόσχου] Ἐπιτ. Βίων. 104, Ἀδδαίου ΠΑ 7.305, 3, Ἀνων. 7.338, 6). Ἡ φράση τοῦ Βασιλείου ἐγέρσιμον ὕπνον ταιριάζει μὲ τὴν Χριστιανικὴ πίστη στὴν Ἀνάσταση ἀλλὰ καὶ παραπέμπει εὐθέως στὸ ἀρχαιοελληνικό της παράλληλο, τονίζοντας τὴν ἀντίθεση μεταξὺ τῆς ἀπαισιοδοξίας τῆς ἀρχαίας θρησκείας ὡς πρὸς τὸ μὴ ἀναστρέψιμο τοῦ θανάτου καὶ τῆς Χριστιανικῆς αἰσιόδοξης πίστεως γιὰ τὴν προσωρινότητά του.76 Εἶναι ἐνδιαφέρον ὅτι ἡ φράση ἐγέρσιμον ὕπνον χρησιμοποιεῖται ἀπὸ τὸν Θεόκριτο (24.7 εὕδετ’, ἐμὰ βρέφεα, γλυκερὸν καὶ ἐγέρσιμον ὕπνον) γιὰ τὴν περιγραφὴ τῶν λόγων τῆς Ἀλκμήνης καθὼς βάζει γιὰ ὕπνο τὰ δίδυμα μωρά της, Ἡρακλῆ καὶ Ἰφικλῆ: μὲ τὸ ἐπίθετο ἐγέρσιμος ἡ ὁμιλοῦσα θέλει νὰ ἀντιδιαστείλει τὴν προσωρινότητα τοῦ κυριολεκτικοῦ ὕπνου μὲ τὴν 73

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Π.χ. Θεοδωρίδα ΠΑ 7.479, 1–2 πέτρος ἐγὼ τὸ πάλαι γυρὴ καὶ ἄτριπτος ἐπιβλὴς / τὴν Ἡρακλείτου ἔνδον ἔχω κεφαλήν, Λεωνίδα 7.719, 1 Τέλληνος ὅδε τύμβος· ἔχω δ’ ὑπὸ βώλακι πρέσβυν, Πινυτοῦ 7.16, 1 ὀστέα μὲν καὶ κωφὸν ἔχει τάφος οὔνομα Σαπφοῦς, κ. ἀ. Π.χ. Ἰλ. 14.85 κ. ἑξ. οἷσιν ἄρα Ζεὺς / ἐκ νεότητος ἔδωκε καὶ ἐς γῆρας τολυπεύειν / ἀρ­ γαλέους πολέμους, 24.7, Ὀδ. 1.238, κ. ἀ. Ὀδ. 14.161 καὶ 19.306. Σὲ ἐπιτύμβια ἐπιγράμματα, πρβλ. Ἀγαθία ΠΑ 7.568, 1 ἑπτά με δὶς λυκάβαντας ἔχουσαν ἀφήρπασε δαίμων, Kaibel, Epigrammata 231=945, 1 κ. ἑξ. Peek, Vers-Inschriften (Χίος, 2ος αἰ. π.Χ.) ἕβδομον εἰς δέκατόν τε βίου λυκάβαντα περῶντα / Μοῖρά με πρὸς θαλάμους ἅρπασε Φερσεφόνας, Kaibel, Epigrammata 226=967, 3 Peek, Vers-Inschriften (Merkelbach καὶ Stauber, Steinepigramme, 03/06/02, Τέως, ἴσως 3ος-4ος αἰ. μ.Χ.) εἴκοσι γὰρ καὶ πέντε μόνους̣ λυκάβαντας ὁδεύσας, κ. ἀ. Πρβλ. καὶ τὴν φράση τοῦ Βασιλείου (Ἐπιγράμματα, 5) σκῆνος μὲν δή οἱ ἐνθάδε μίμνει ἐγέρσιμον ἦμαρ, στὸν πέμπτο στίχο τοῦ ἐπιγράμματος γιὰ τὸν Πελάγιο Δράκου ποὺ πνίγηκε στὴν θάλασσα τῆς Ἀγχιάλου τὸν Ὀκτώβριο τοῦ 1870.

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μονιμότητα τοῦ μεταφορικοῦ, τοῦ νηγρέτου θανάτου.77 Ὅμως τὸ σύνταγμα ἐγέρσιμος ὕπνος χρησιμοποιεῖται, γιὰ νὰ ἀποδοθεῖ ὁ τριήμερος θάνατος τοῦ Χριστοῦ, καὶ ἀπὸ τὸν Νόννο (Παρ. 20.42 καὶ 21.78), ὁ ὁποῖος συγχρόνως ἀνακαλεῖ / ἀξιοποιεῖ μὲ τὴν φράση αὐτὴν καὶ τὸ ρῆμα ἐγείρω ποὺ ἀποδίδει στὰ Εὐαγγέλια τὴν Ἀνάσταση τοῦ Χριστοῦ.78 Τὸ αἰγλῆεν δῶμα στὸ ὁποῖο μεταβαίνει ἡ ψυχὴ τῶν μακάρων ἀνδρῶν θυμίζει τὸν Ὁμηρικὸ Ὄλυμπο ποὺ εἶναι αἰγλήεις (Ἰλ. 1.532, 13.243, Ὀδ. 20.103) καὶ ὅπου ὁ Δίας καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι θεοὶ ἔχουν τὰ δώματά τους (Ἰλ. 1.533, 2.67, 5.383, 5.398, 11.218, κ. ἀ.)· τὸ ἐπίθετο μάκαρες, ἀποδιδόμενο ἐδῶ στὶς ἀγαλλόμενες δίκαιες ψυχές, μαζὶ μὲ τὸ ρῆμα ναιετάω, παραπέμπει στὶς μυθικὲς Νήσους τῶν Μακάρων, ὅπου κατοικοῦν οἱ εὐτυχεῖς νεκροὶ τοῦ γένους τῶν ἡρώων: Ἡσ. Ἔργα 170–171 καὶ τοὶ μὲν ναίουσιν ἀκηδέα θυμὸν ἔχοντες / ἐν μακάρων νήσοισι παρ’ Ὠκεανὸν βαθυδίνην. Ἔτσι, ὁ Χριστιανικὸς Παράδεισος περιγράφεται ὡς συνδυασμὸς τοῦ μυθικοῦ Ὀλύμπου καὶ τῶν Νήσων τῶν Μακάρων, δηλαδὴ τῶν τόπων ὅπου ζοῦν θεοὶ καὶ ἡμίθεοι, σὲ ἀντιδιαστολὴ μὲ τὸν θλιβερὸ Ἅδη τῶν κοινῶν θνητῶν: μιὰ τέτοια παρουσίαση εἶναι εὔλογη, ἐφόσον στὴ Χριστιανικὴ θρησκεία ὑπάρχει ἡ πίστη μιᾶς αἰώνιας μεταθανάτιας εὐτυχίας γιὰ τοὺς δικαίους, τῆς ὁποίας τὸ ἀρχαιοελληνικὸ παράλληλο δὲν μπορεῖ παρὰ νὰ εἶναι οἱ κατ’ἐξοχὴν φωτεινοὶ καὶ ἐξαίσιοι μεταφυσικοὶ τόποι. Γιὰ τὸν Ἠλία Τανταλίδη ὁ Βασίλειος ἔγραψε τὸ ἀκόλουθο ἐπιτύμβιο (Βασίλειος, Ἐπιγράμματα, 8–9):79

5

Μουσάων Ἑλικωνιάδων θεράποντ’ ὀτρηρὸν καὶ σοφίης ἱρῆς, θρέψαθ’ ὃν εὐσεβίῃ, ἀγλαὸν ὀσσομένοις τε φόως, ἀλαόν περ ἐόντα, Τανταλίδην Ἠλίαν ἔνθ’ ἀνέπαυσε Θεός. Πολλὰ δ’ ὃ πίστει θ’ ὁπλοτέρῃ γενεῇ τ’ ἐμόγησεν ἀτρεκέως. Θείων δ’ αὖτ’ ὄχ’ ἄριστος ἔην ὑμνῳδῶν ὀπὶ καλῇ ἀείδων Ὑψιμέδοντα. Τίετέ μιν πᾶσαί γ’ εὐσεβέων γενεαί.

Τὸ Ὁμηρικὸ χρῶμα εἶναι ἔκδηλο, μὲ τὴν ἐπικὴ διάλεκτο καὶ μὲ λεξιλόγιο καὶ ἐκφράσεις ὅπως οἱ juncturae θεράποντ’ ὀτρηρόν, ὄχ’ ἄριστος καὶ ὀπὶ καλῇ. Ὁλόκληρο τὸ ἐπίγραμμα διέπεται ἀπὸ τὴν ἰδέα τῆς θεϊκῆς προελεύσεως τοῦ ποιητικοῦ ταλέντου τοῦ τιμωμένου προσώπου, σὲ μιὰ μείξη στοιχείων τοῦ Χριστιανικοῦ καὶ τοῦ εἰδωλολατρικοῦ κόσμου: Μουσάων Ἑλικωνιάδων, Θεός, πίστει, θείων ὑμνῳδῶν ὄχ’ ἄριστος, Ὑψιμέδοντα. Στὴν ἐπιτυχία αὐτῆς τῆς ἐναλλαγῆς Χριστιανικῶν καὶ ἀρχαιοελληνικῶν μοτίβων καὶ στὴν ἀξεδι77 78 79

Βλ. καὶ Gow, Theocritus, στὸ 18.55 τοῦ Θεοκρίτου. Π.χ. Ματθ. 27.53 μετὰ τὴν ἔγερσιν αὐτοῦ, Ἰω. 21.14 ἐγερθεὶς ἐκ νεκρῶν. Βλ. περαιτέρω D. Accorinti, Parafrasi del Vangelo di S. Giovanni, Canto XX, Πίζα 1996, 158. Εἶναι ἀξιοσημείωτο ὅτι ὁ Τανταλίδης εἶχε γράψει τὸ 1871 ἐπιτύμβιο ἐπίγραμμα γιὰ τὸν παπποῦ τοῦ Βασιλείου, ἱερέα Νικολάου (πατέρα τῆς μητέρας τοῦ Βασιλείου Αἰκατερίνης), ποὺ ἦταν θαμμένος στὸ Μπαλουκλί. Βλ. Διαμαντόπουλο, Βασίλειος, 50, σημ. 3. Τὸ ἐπίγραμμα ἐκδίδεται στὸ ἔργο τοῦ Βασιλείου Ἐπιγράμματα, 16.

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άλυτη ἀνάμειξή τους συμβάλλουν καὶ οἱ Ὁμηρικὲς φράσεις μὲ τὸ νέο περιεχόμενο ποὺ τοὺς ἀποδίδεται: ἡ φράση ὀπὶ καλῇ, συνήθως συνδυαζόμενη μὲ τὸ ρῆμα ἀείδω ἢ παράγωγό του, ἀναφέρεται πάντοτε στὸ ἆσμα θεοτήτων στὸν Ὅμηρο.80 Ἡ φράση ὄχ’ ἄριστος ποὺ περιγράφει, μεταξὺ ἄλλων, θεόπνευστους μάντεις (τὸν Κάλχαντα Ἰλ. 1.69· τὸν Ἕλενο Ἰλ. 6.76, τὸν Πολυφείδη, γιὸ τοῦ Ἀμφιαράου, Ὀδ. 15.253) καὶ Ἀχαιοὺς ἥρωες (Ἰλ. 5.843, 15.282, 23.357) τονίζει περαιτέρω τὴν σπανιότητα τῶν ποιητικῶν ἱκανοτήτων τοῦ ἐπαινουμένου. Ἡ ἰδέα τοῦ ποιητῆ ὡς θεράποντος τῶν Μουσῶν (σὲ συνδυασμὸ μὲ τὸ Ὁμηρικὸ ὀτρηρὸς θεράπων: Ἰλ. 1.321, Ὀδ. 1.109, 4.38) εἶναι κλασσικὴ καὶ πασίγνωστη στὴν ἀρχαιότητα, ἤδη ἀπὸ τὸν Ἡσίοδο (Θεογ. 100) καὶ τὸν Θέογνι (769).81 Ἡ σύζευξη, ἑπομένως, τῶν στοιχείων ποὺ παραπέμπουν σὲ ὑπεράνθρωπα ὄντα τῆς ἑλληνικῆς μυθολογίας, ὅπως παρουσιάζονται στὸν Ὅμηρο, μὲ τὴν ἐπαναλαμβανόμενη ἀναφορὰ στὶς πνευματικὲς ἰδιότητες τοῦ τιμωμένου, ἀπὸ πλευρᾶς ποιητικῆς δεινότητας ἀλλὰ καὶ γενικότερων διανοητικῶν προσόντων, συμπεριλαμβανομένου τοῦ Χριστιανικοῦ ἤθους (σοφίης ἱρῆς, εὐσεβίῃ, πίστει), φιλοδοξεῖ νὰ τοποθετήσει τὸν ἐξέχοντα νεκρὸ στὸ ἐπίπεδο τῶν θρυλικῶν ποιητικῶν μορφῶν τοῦ ἀρχαιοελληνικοῦ κόσμου, ὑπογραμμίζοντας τὴν ἐξωανθρώπινη διάσταση ποὺ ἐμπεριέχει ἡ ποιητικὴ ἔμπνευση· ἐπιπλέον, ὑπενθυμίζει ὅτι τὰ πνευματικὰ καὶ καλλιτεχνικὰ ἐπιτεύγματα τοῦ σύγχρονου Χριστιανικοῦ πολιτισμοῦ καὶ τῶν φορέων του μποροῦν νὰ σταθοῦν ἰσότιμα δίπλα σὲ αὐτὰ τῶν ἱστορικῶν τους προγόνων. *** Τὸ ἀρχαῖο ἐπίγραμμα δὲν ἔπαψε νὰ γοητεύει νεοέλληνες λογίους καὶ ποιητές, ἀκόμα καὶ ἂν ἀτόνησε ἡ προσπάθεια νὰ “ἀντιγραφεῖ” ἡ ἀρχαϊκή του διάλεκτος καὶ τὸ μέτρο. Ἔχουμε πολυάριθμα καθαρὰ νεοελληνικὰ “ἐπιγράμματα”, τὰ ὁποῖα ἀναπαράγουν περισσότερο τὸ πνεῦμα παρὰ τὸ γράμμα του ἐπιγράμματος ὡς εἴδους, προσαρμόζοντάς το στὴν σύγχρονη ποιητικὴ πράξη τῆς ἐποχῆς τους, εἴτε γνωστότερα, ὅπως τὸ περίφημο Σολωμικὸ Ἐπίγραμμα γιὰ τὴν καταστροφὴ τῶν Ψαρῶν ἀπὸ τοὺς Τούρκους, γραμμένο τὸ 1825, εἴτε λιγότερο γνωστά. Στὰ τελευταῖα ἀνήκουν καὶ τὰ νεοελληνικὰ ἐπιγράμματα τοῦ διαπρεποῦς κλασσικοῦ φιλολόγου, καθηγητῆ τοῦ Πανεπιστημίου Ἀθηνῶν καὶ μέλους τῆς Ἀκαδημίας Σίμου Μενάρδου (1872–1933) ὁ ὁποῖος, ἐκτὸς ἀπὸ τὶς μεταφράσεις ἀρχαίων ποιημάτων ποὺ συγκεντρώνονται στὸ ἔργο του Στέφανος (Ἀθήνα 1924), δημοσίευσε καὶ τὴν ποιητικὴ συλλογὴ Ἐπιγράμματα τὸ 1930, “κατὰ τὸ ἑορτάσιμον ἔτος τῆς ἑλληνικῆς ἐλευθερίας” (Μενάρδος, Ἐπιγράμματα, 3), ὅπου παρουσιάζονται ποιήματά του συντεθειμένα μεταξὺ 1892 καὶ 1904, στὰ ὁποῖα προσπαθεῖ νὰ ἀναβιώσει μὲ 80 81

Μοῦσες: Ἰλ. 1.604, 24.60, Καλυψώ: Ὀδ. 5.61, Κίρκη: Ὀδ. 10.221· πρβλ. καὶ Ἡσ. Θεογ. 68 καὶ Ὁμ. Ὕμνο Εἰς Ἀπολ. 189 (Μοῦσες). Γιὰ τὸν νεκρὸ ὡς Μουσάων θεράποντα σὲ ἐπιτύμβιες ἐπιγραφές, πρβλ. Kaibel, Epigrammata 101=1332, 3 Peek, Vers-Inschriften (Ἀθήνα, 1ος-2ος αἰ. μ.Χ.), 371, 1 Peek, Vers-Inschriften (Ρώμη, 2ος-3ος αἰ. μ.Χ.), IG X 2.2, 272, 5 (Μακεδονία, 3ος αἰ. μ.Χ.).

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σύγχρονους ὅρους τὸ ἐπίγραμμα τῆς Ἑλληνικῆς Ἀνθολογίας, ὅπως δηλώνει στὴν ἀναλυτική εἰσαγωγὴ τῆς συλλογῆς. Ὁ Μενάρδος θεωρεῖ ὅτι τὰ δημώδη ὁμοιοκατάληκτα δίστιχα, καὶ δὴ τὰ Κυπριακά, συνεχίζουν τὴν ἀρχαία ἐπιγραμματικὴ παράδοση καὶ λέει ὅτι “ἐὰν λοιπὸν μετὰ τὰ ἀρχαῖα στρέψωμεν καὶ ἡμεῖς τὴν προσοχὴν πρὸς τὰ λαϊκὰ δίστιχα, θὰ διακρίνωμεν ἀμέσως τὸν ἐντελῶς ἀρχαϊκόν των χαρακτῆρα” (Ἐπιγράμματα, 18). Ἀπὸ τὰ ποικίλης θεματολογίας ὁμοιοκατάληκτα τετράστιχα τῆς συλλογῆς αὐτῆς μποροῦν νὰ παρατεθοῦν ἐνδεικτικὰ τρία, ἐμπνευσμένα ἀπὸ τὴν ἀρχαιολογικὴ ἔρευνα καὶ τὰ εὑρήματά της (Ἐπιγράμματα, 30–31): Ἀρχαία στήλη στὸν γιαλὸ νεκρὴν θυμίζει νύφη. ΧΑΙΡΕ ΑΓΑΘΟΚΛΕΙΑ ΧΡΗΣΤΗ. Πεσμένη μοναχὰ τὴν περιχεῖ καὶ τἀμυδρὰ ψηφιὰ τὸ κῦμα γλείφει. Νά, τώρα ἡ Ἀγαθόκλεια στ’ ἀλήθεια ξεψυχᾶ. Τἀνέσκαψα καὶ μοῦ γελᾷ τὸ δακτυλίδι ἀκόμα· σπιθοβολεῖ ὁ ἀμέθυστος καὶ λάμπει τὸ χρυσάφι. Μὰ ποῦ τὸ χέρι τὸ λευκὸ ’που τὸ φοροῦσε, ὦ τάφοι, τὰ μάτια ’που τὸ κοίταζαν καὶ γάλιαζαν, ὦ χῶμα; Εἰς Ταναγραίαν κόρην. Κορούλλα ’που συγκόλλησα καὶ στέκεις τώρα ἐμπρός μου καί, γελαστή, στοὺς στίχους μου βάζεις, νομίζω, αὐτί, ’νά, τόσο ἀπὸ τὴν χάρι σου καὶ τὴν εὐγένεια δός μου καὶ τότ’ ἀπ’ τοὺς αἰῶνες σου θὰ πάρουνε κι αὐτοί. Ὡς τελευταῖα δείγματα σχετικὰ παραγνωρισμένων νεοελληνικῶν ποιημάτων βασισμένων σὲ ἀρχαῖα ἐπιγράμματα ἀξίζει νὰ ἀναφερθοῦν τὰ τετράστιχα τὰ ἐμπνευσμένα ἀπὸ ἐπιτύμβια γιὰ ἑταῖρες ποὺ συνέθεσε ὁ ποιητής, σεναριογράφος καὶ σκηνοθέτης, ἀδελφὸς τοῦ ἥρωα τοῦ Β΄ Παγκοσμίου Πολέμου Βασίλη Λάσκου, Ὀρέστης Λάσκος (1907–1992), ἰδιαίτερα γνωστὸς ἀπὸ ἀρκετὰ νωρὶς γιὰ τὴν μεταφορὰ τοῦ μυθιστορήματος τοῦ Λόγγου στὴν βωβή του ταινία Δάφνις καὶ Χλόη (1931). Ἡ ὑποενότητα Ἐπιτάφια καὶ μεταθανάτια ἐπιγράμματα ἀρχαίων ἑταιρῶν τῆς ἑνότητας Ἀρχαϊκά ἀπὸ τὴν συλλογὴ Τὸ Φὶλμ τῆς Ζωῆς τοῦ 1934 περιλαμβάνει ποιήματα γιὰ ἱστορικὲς ἀλλὰ καὶ γιὰ φανταστικὲς ἑταῖρες τῆς ἀρχαιότητας, τὰ ὁποῖα ἀποδίδουν μὲ σύγχρονα μέσα ἀρχαῖα ἐπιτύμβια μοτίβα. Ἡ σύνθεση διακρίνεται ἀπὸ ζωντάνια καὶ ὀμορφιὰ ποὺ ἀναδύονται μέσα ἀπὸ τὴν ὑποβλητικὴ μουσικότητα καὶ τὴν ἔνταση τῶν εἰκόνων.82 Ἐνδεικτικὰ εἶναι ἐνδιαφέρον νὰ παρατεθοῦν 82

Χαρακτηριστικὰ ἔχει περιγράψει τὴν ἔμμετρη ποίηση τοῦ Λάσκου γενικῶς ὁ Καραντώνης ὡς “φαντασμαγορική, ἠχηρή, ἐντυπωσιακή, κράμα μεσοπολεμικοῦ αἰσθησιασμοῦ, κοσμοπολιτισμοῦ καὶ λεπτοῦ ρομαντισμοῦ” (Ἀ. Καραντώνης, “Ὀρέστη Λάσκου: “Γυμνὴ Μοῦσα” καὶ ἡ σατιρικὴ τριλογία “Βρεκεκέξ-Κοάξ-Κοάξ””, Νέα Ἑστία 1172, 1976, 624–626, 625). Τὴν χρονιὰ ποὺ ἐκδόθηκε ἡ συλλογὴ ὁ Γάλλος συγγραφέας Phileas Lebesgue (μὲ τὸ ψευδώνυμο Δημήτριος Ἀστεριώτης) τὴν εἶχε περιγράψει μὲ παρόμοι-

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τὰ ἐπιγράμματα γιὰ δύο πραγματικὲς ἑταῖρες καὶ μιὰ φανταστική, τὴν Λαΐδα, τὴν Ροδῆ καὶ τὴν Φρύνη (Τὸ Φίλμ, 51–52), στὸ τελευταῖο ἀπὸ τὰ ὁποῖα ἡ Ἀφροδίτη προσφωνεῖται μὲ τὸ ὄνομα ποὺ τῆς δίνουν οἱ Ἀσσύριοι, σύμφωνα μὲ τὸν Ἡρόδοτο:83 Ὠχρὲ διαβάτη τῆς Ζωῆς, ἐδῶ ἀναπαύεται ἡ Λαΐς, ἡ πιὸ λαμπρὴ μέσ’ στὶς λαμπρὲς ἑταίρα τῆς Κορίνθου, ποὖχε τὰ μάτια βυρηλλιά, κι’ εἶχε τὴ σάρκα γιὰ φιλιά, κι’ εἶχε τὰ χείληα πορφυρὰ σὰν πέταλα ὑακίνθου! … Ἐδῶ, ποὺ ὀργιάζ’ ἡ πασκαλιὰ κοντὰ στοῦ τάφου τὰ σκαλιά, καὶ τὰ γκρενὰ γαρούφαλα μοσκοβολοῦν στὴ γλάστρα, πικρὰ θρηνῶντας ἡ Ροδῆ, τοὺς ἔρωτές της τραγουδεῖ, πᾶσα τὴ μέρα στὰ πουλιὰ κι’ ὅλη τὴ νύχτα στ’ ἄστρα! … Σ’ ὕπνο βαρύ, στερνὴ φορά, ἱερὴ στὸν Ἅδη προσφορά, νεκρή, τὰ ὠχρόλευκα μεργιὰ τανύει στὸν τάφο ἡ Φρύνη. -Δεόμεθά Σου, ὦ Μύλιττα, τὰ κάλλη της τ’ ἀμίλητα κάμε ν’ ἀνθίσουν ζουμπουλιές … κι’ ἡ πλάκα ν’ ἀλαφρύνῃ! … Τὸν ὁρισμὸ τοῦ Σίμου Μενάρδου γιὰ τὸ ἐπίγραμμα γενικῶς, ἀρχαῖο καὶ σύγχρονο, “τὸ ἐπίγραμμα λοιπὸν εἶναι τρόπον τινὰ στιγμιαία φωτογραφία μιᾶς ἐντυπώσεως ἐξωτερικῆς, ἑνὸς αἰσθήματος φευγαλέου” (Μενάρδος, Ἐπιγράμματα, 12) ἐπιβεβαιώνουν κατὰ τὸ μᾶλλον ἢ ἧττον τὰ πιὸ “μοντέρνα” ἀπὸ τὰ ἐπιγράμματα τῶν νεοελλήνων λογίων καὶ ποιητῶν ποὺ παρατέθηκαν. Ἀλλὰ καὶ τὰ ἀρχαΐζοντα νεοελληνικὰ ἐπιγράμματα, ἀκόμα καὶ ἂν εἶναι πλήρως ἀποστασιοποιημένα ἀπὸ τὴν αὐτοσχεδιαστικὴ βάση τοῦ εἴδους καὶ ἀξιοποιοῦν μὲ φανερὴ ἐγκεφαλικότητα τὸ λογοτεχνικὸ ἑλληνικὸ παρελθόν, δὲν παύουν νὰ ὁρμῶνται καὶ αὐτὰ ἀπὸ τὸ συναίσθημα, τὴν παρατήρηση τοῦ κόσμου καὶ τῆς ζωῆς καὶ τὰ ἐρεθίσματα τῶν αἰσθήσεων καὶ νὰ τὰ ἀποτυπώνουν μὲ τὸν τεχνηέντως πυκνὸ καὶ αἰχμηρὸ τρόπο τῶν ἀρχαίων τους προτύπων. ΒΙΒΛΙΟΓΡΑΦΙΑ Accorinti D., Parafrasi del Vangelo di S. Giovanni, Canto XX, Πίζα 1996 Astériotis D., “Lettres Neo-Grecques”, Mercure de France 254, 1934, 194–202

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ους ὅρους (D. Astériotis, “Lettres Neo-Grecques”, Mercure de France 254, 1934, 194–202, 202): “en de grands vers sonores et colorés, d’inspiration très variée, M. Orestis Laskos déroule Le Film de la Vie”. Ἡροδ. 1.131 καὶ 1.199. Στὸ 1.199 ὁ Ἡρόδοτος περιγράφει τὴν Βαβυλώνια συνήθεια σύμφωνα μὲ τὴν ὁποίαν ὅλες οἱ γυναῖκες τῆς χώρας ἔπρεπε μία φορὰ στὴ ζωή τους νὰ δεχθοῦν ἕνα ὁποιοδήποτε χρηματικὸ ποσὸν στὸν ναὸ τῆς θεᾶς ἀπὸ κάποιον ξένο ποὺ θὰ τοὺς πεῖ “ἐπικαλέω τοι τὴν θεὸν Μύλιττα” καὶ ἀκολούθως νὰ συνευρεθοῦν μαζί του.

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Βασίλειος Μητροπολίτης Σμύρνης, Διάφορα Ἐπιγράμματα Βασιλείου Μητροπολίτου Σμύρνης τοῦ ἀπὸ Ἀγχιάλου καὶ διαφόρων ἄλλων, Σμύρνη 1906 Βερτουδάκης Β. Π., Τὸ Ὄγδοο Βιβλίο τῆς Παλατινῆς Ἀνθολογίας, Ἀθήνα 2011 Βοβολίνης Κ. Α., Ἡ ἐκκλησία εἰς τὸν ἀγῶνα τῆς ἐλευθερίας, 1453–1953, Ἀθήνα 20033 Brøndsted P. O., Reisen und Untersuchungen in Griechenland, τόμος 1, Στουτγάρδη καὶ Παρίσι 1826 Gabelmann H., Studien zum frühgriechischen Löwenbild, Βερολῖνο 1965 Γιαλούρης Ἀ., “Στερνοὶ Φαναριῶτες λόγιοι: Ἠλίας Τανταλίδης”, Νεοελληνικὰ Γράμματα 41, 1936, 3, 15 Gilles P., De Topographia Constantinopoleos, Λέιντεν 1562 Gow A. S. F., Theocritus, 2 τόμοι, Καῖμπριτζ 1950 Gow A. S. F and Page D. L., The Greek Anthology: The Garland of Philip, 2 τόμοι, Καῖμπριτζ 1968 Δημαρᾶς Κ. Θ., Ἱστορία τῆς Νεοελληνικὴς Λογοτεχνίας. Ἀπὸ τὶς πρῶτες ρίζες ὣς τὴν ἐποχή μας, Ἀθήνα 20009 Διαμαντόπουλος Ἀ. Ν., “Βασίλειος Μητροπολίτης Σμύρνης (25 Μαρτίου 1834–23 Ἰανουαρίου 1910)”, Μικρασιατικὰ Χρονικά 2, 1939, 148–198 Engels J., Lykurg, Rede gegen Leokrates, Ντάρμστατ 2008 Ζωχιὸς Γ., Λόγος ἐκφωνηθεὶς ἐν τῇ Ριζαρείῳ Σχολῇ κατὰ τὸ μνημόσυνον τοῦ ἀειμνήστου καθηγητοῦ Φιλίππου Ἰωάννου, Ἀθῆναι 1880 Hornby E., Constantinople during the Crimean War, Λονδῖνο 1863 Ἰσιδωρίδης Σκυλίσσης Ἰ., “Ἠλιοῦ Τανταλίδου Βίος καὶ Ἔργα”, Παρνασσός 1, 1877, 81–95 Ἰωάννου Φ., Φιλολογικὰ Πάρεργα, Ἀθῆναι 1865 Ἰωάννου Φ., Λόγος Ὀλυμπιακός, Ἀθῆναι 1871 Ἰωάννου Φ., Παλάσκας Λ., Κουμελᾶς Ἀ., Ὀνοματολόγιον Ναυτικόν, Ἀθῆναι 1858 Kaibel G., Epigrammata Graeca ex lapidibus conlecta, Βερολῖνο 1878 Καραντώνης Ἀ., “Ὀρέστη Λάσκου: “Γυμνὴ Μοῦσα” καὶ ἡ σατιρικὴ τριλογία “Βρεκεκέξ-Κοάξ-Κοάξ””, Νέα Ἑστία 1172, 1976, 624–626 Κασιάνης Ἐ., Ἠλίας Τανταλίδης, Ποιητὴς καὶ Διδάσκαλος τοῦ Γένους, Ἀθῆναι 1971 Klostermann R. A., Erzbischof Basileios von Smyrna, Γκότεμποργκ 1962 Κουτλουμουσιανὸς Β., Ὑπόμνημα ἱστορικὸν περὶ τῆς κατὰ τὴν Χάλκην μονῆς τῆς Θεοτόκου, Κωνσταντινούπολις 1846 Lacroix F., Guide du voyageur à Constantinople et dans ses environs, Παρίσι 1839 Λάσκος Ὀ., Τὸ Φὶλμ τῆς Ζωῆς, Ἀθήνα 1934 Μενάρδος Σ., Ἐπιγράμματα, Ἀθήνα 1930 Merkelbach R., Stauber J., Steinepigramme aus dem griechischen Osten, Στουτγάρδη, Μόναχο καὶ Λειψία 1998–2004 Monroe W. S., Turkey and the Turks, Βοστώνη 1907 Page D. L., Further Greek Epigrams, Καῖμπριτζ 1981 Παλαμᾶς Κ., Ἅπαντα, τόμος ὄγδοος, Ἀθήνα 19723 Πατριαρχέας Π., Φίλιππος Ἰωάννου: ὁ ἀπὸ καθέδρας Ἕλλην Φιλόσοφος τοῦ 19ου αἰῶνος, Ἀθῆναι 1936 Peek W., Griechische Vers-Inschriften: Grabepigramme, Βερολῖνο 1955 Pertusier C., Picturesque Promenades in and near Constantinople and on the waters of Bosporus, Λονδῖνο 1820 Pococke R., A Description of the East and Some other Countries, vol. II, part II, Λονδῖνο 1745 Schlumberger G., Les îles des Princes, Παρίσι 1884 Σκαρλᾶτος Βυζάντιος Δ., Ἡ Κωνσταντινούπολις, ἢ περιγραφὴ τοπογραφική, ἀρχαιολογικὴ καὶ ἱστορική, τόμος Β, Ἀθῆναι 1862 Σκουβαρᾶς Β., “Ἀνέκδοτο χαιρετιστήριο ἆσμα: ὁ Φίλιππος Ἰωάννου στὸν Ἰωάννη Καποδίστρια”, Ἑπτανησιακὴ Πρωτοχρονιά 1, 1960, 33–47 Τανταλίδης Ἠ., Ἰδιωτικὰ Στιχουργήματα, Τεργέστη 1860 Tarán S. L., The Art of Variation in the Hellenistic Epigram, Λέιντεν 1979

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Timoni A., Nouvelles promenades dans le Bosphore ou médidations Bosphoriques Κωνσταντινούπολις 1844 Τωμαδάκης Β., “Καταγραφὴ ἐπιγραμμάτων Ἠλία Τανταλίδου ποιηθέντων εἰς ἀρχαίαν γλῶσσαν καὶ μέτρα προσῳδιακά”, Ἀθηνᾶ 72, 1971, 144–159 Von Tischendorf K., Reise in den Orient, 2 τόμοι, Λειψία 1846 Wallace P. W., “The Tomb of Themistocles in the Peiraieus”, Hesperia 4, 1972, 451–462 Wilson C. W., Handbook for Travellers in Constantinople, Brûsa, and the Troad, Λονδῖνο 1907 Χασιώτης Γ., Βυζαντιναὶ Σελίδες, τόμος Α΄. Αἱ Πριγκηπόνησοι, Ἀθῆναι 1910

Ὁ Λέων τῆς Κέας Πηγή: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lion_of_Kea.JPG Εἰλημμένο: 11-6-2015

PART II: SCHOLARSHIP

12 LA SCUOLA DI VALERIO PROBO Mariarosaria Pugliarello Abstract In chapter 13.21 of Noctes Atticae Aulus Gellius vividly describes a dispute between the grammarian Valerius Probus and an anonymous interlocutor, who is questioning him about a morphological matter. Valerius Probus is presented as an impatient and intolerant magister, as well as a supporter of an asystematic grammar, free from the excessive conditioning of regulae. Aulus Gellius agrees with this approach and makes Valerius Probus the mouthpiece for his own conception of the language, which he considers a balance of the different canons of Latinitas. Fonti su Valerio Probo sono, come è noto, Svetonio, dal cui ritratto nel De gramma­ ticis et rhetoribus derivano le nostre informazioni sugli interessi culturali del grammatico e sul suo metodo di insegnamento,1 e Aulo Gellio, che in alcuni passi delle Noctes Atticae fornisce indicazioni sulla dottrina di Probo.2 Benché sparsi e non sistematici, i dati offerti da Gellio convergono in parte con la descrizione svetoniana,3 contribuendo a far emergere un quadro abbastanza omogeneo di questa figura di intellettuale, filologo e maestro, vissuto probabilmente nella seconda metà del I secolo d.C.4 1 2 3

4

Suet. Gram. 24. Gel. 1.15.18; 3.1.5; 4.7.1–5; 6.7.3; 6.9.11–12; 9.9.12–17; 13.21.1–9; 15.30.3–5; 17.9.5. Mentre Svetonio attribuisce a Probo lo studio esclusivo dei ueteres, dalle Noctes Atticae emerge un più ampio ventaglio di interessi, che si estende a Sallustio e a Virgilio; cfr. G. Pascucci, Valerio Probo e i ueteres, in: Grammatici latini d’età imperiale, Genova 1976, 26–30; un bilancio del concetto di ueteres per Probo e del suo probabile canone di autori è proposto da S. Rocchi, I ueteres di Valerio Probo, in: Dialogando con il passato. Permanenze e innovazioni in età flavia (a cura di A. Bonadeo, E. Romano), Firenze 2007, 77–96; per la presenza di Probo nelle Noctes Atticae si veda L. Holford-Strevens, Aulus Gellius. An Antonine Scholar and his Achievement, Oxford 2003, 2a ed. (=2007), 163–165. Su Probo filologo e sulla sua presunta attività ecdotica ampia è la bibliografia; si vedano, per un primo approccio, oltre agli studi citati nella nota precedente, il giudizio fortemente critico di N. Scivoletto, La “filologia” di Valerio Probo di Berito, in: GIF 121, 1959, 97–124 (= Studi di letteratura latina imperiale, Napoli 1963, 155–221), e ancora S. Timpanaro, Per la storia della filologia virgiliana antica, Roma 1986, 77–127; M.L. Delvigo, Testo virgiliano e tradizione indiretta. Le varianti probiane, Pisa 1987; S.Timpanaro, Virgilianisti antichi e tradizione indiretta, Firenze 2001, 37–105. Su Probo grammatico e sulle opere grammaticali oggi riconosciute come apocrife cfr. A. Della Casa, La “grammatica” di Valerio Probo, in: Argentea aetas, in memoriam Entii V. Marmorale, Genova 1973, 139–160 (= Grammatica e letteratura. Scritti scelti di A. Della Casa, Genova 1994, 117–140); per l’attribuzione a Probo di testi tardolatini v. anche R. Herzog, Restauration et renouveau. La littérature latine de 284 à 374 après J.-C., Turnhout 1993, 131–136. Per la biografia svetoniana rinvio a: M. C. Vacher, Suétone. Gram-

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Il capitolo XIII 21 delle Noctes Atticae è emblematico della rappresentazione che Gellio vuole offrire di tale personaggio, poiché rivela elementi significativi per la teoria e la didattica di Probo, come il suo concetto di lingua e di norma grammaticale, e illustra la stretta connessione fra teoria del linguaggio e metodo filologico. Nel capitolo in esame un familiaris del grammatico riferisce la risposta di Probo, interrogato se si dovesse dire urbis o urbes e turrim o turrem: Interrogatus est Probus Valerius, quod ex familiari eius quodam conperi, ‘has’ ne ‘urbis’ an ‘has urbes’ et ‘hanc turrim’ an ‘hanc turrem’ dici oporteret. “Si aut uersum” inquit “pangis aut orationem solutam struis atque ea uerba tibi dicenda sunt, non finitiones illas praerancidas neque fetutinas grammaticas spectaueris, sed aurem tuam interroga, quo quid loco conueniat dicere; quod illa suaserit, id profecto erit rectissimum”.5

Come si vede, Probo non ricorre a regole grammaticali, né tenta una spiegazione razionale, ma consiglia l’interlocutore chiamando in causa un principio fonico: sed aurem tuam interroga. L’interlocutore non riesce a comprendere come si possa au­ rem interrogare: Tum is, qui quaesierat: “quonam modo” inquit “uis aurem meam interrogem?” Et Probum ait respondisse: “Quo suam Vergilius percontatus est, qui diuersis in locis ‘urbis’ et ‘urbes’ dixit arbitrio consilioque usus auris. Nam in primo Georgicon, quem ego” inquit “librum manu ipsius correctum legi, ‘urbis’ per ‘i’ litteram scripsit. Verba e uersibus eius haec sunt: ‘urbisne inuisere, Caesar,/ terrarumque uelis curam’ (Verg. G. 1.25 s.). Verte enim et muta, ut ‘urbes’ dicas: insubidius nescio quid facies et pinguius. Contra in tertio Aeneidis ‘urbes’ dixit per ‘e’ litteram: ‘centum urbes habitant magnas’ (Verg. A. 3.106). Hic item muta, ut ‘urbis’ dicas: nimis exilis vox erit et exsanguis; tanta quippe iuncturae differentia est in consonantia uocum proximarum. Praeterea idem Vergilius ‘turrim’ dixit, non ‘turrem’, et ‘securim’, non ‘securem’: ‘turrim in praecipiti stantem’ (Verg. A. 2.460) et ‘incertam excussit ceruice securim’ (Verg. A. 2.224). Quae sint, opinor, iucundioris gracilitatis, quam si suo utrumque loco per ‘e’ litteram dicas”.6

Probo sostiene dunque che Virgilio non si era ispirato a regole pedantesche, ma che le sue scelte erano il risultato di una ricerca di effetti musicali; conferma l’osservazione dell’interlocutore sulla compresenza di due forme, per l’accusativo singolare e plurale di temi in –i della terza declinazione, ricordando di aver letto egli stesso, in un autografo virgiliano delle Georgiche, urbis a 1.25, mentre nel terzo libro del l’ Eneide, al v. 106, il poeta aveva preferito urbes e aggiunge a questa documentazione altri esempi virgiliani di accusativo in -im, come turrim (A. 2.460) e securim (A. 2.224). Alla caparbia insistenza dell’altro, definito rudis profecto et aure agresti homo,7 Probo, che appare iam commotior, risponde con insofferenza, troncando bruscamente la discussione: “Noli”, inquit, “igitur laborare, utrum istorum debeas dicere, ‘urbis’ an ‘urbes’. Nam cum id genus sis, quod uideo, ut sine iactura tua pecces, nihil perdes, utrum dixeris”.8

5 6 7 8

mairiens et rhéteurs (texte ét. et trad.), Paris 1993, 180–197; R. A. Kaster, Suetonius Tranquillus. De grammaticis et rhetoribus (ed. with transl., intr. and comm.), Oxford 1995, 243–269. Gel. 13.21.1 = Prob. fr. 2 Velaza; cfr. la bibliografia citata in J. Velaza, M. Valeri Probi Beryti Fragmenta (ed.), Barcelona 2005, 7. Gel.13.21.2–6 = Prob. frr. 2 e 15; 16; 19 Velaza. Gel.13.21.7. Gel.13.21.8.

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Gellio conclude l’episodio commentando: His tum uerbis Probus et hac fini homi­ nem dimisit, ut mos eius fuit erga indociles.9 Dal commentarius gelliano emerge lo stretto legame intercorrente fra problema grammaticale e risvolto filologico-testuale, che si concretizza nella consultazione di antichi testi e, laddove possibile, di manoscritti autografi o ritenuti tali, in linea con l’orientamento della ricerca erudita dell’epoca.10 Se dunque alla figura di Probo è qui connesso un problema di carattere grammaticale, in realtà il passo evidenzia una valorizzazione degli aspetti filologici e testuali: Probo rinvia alla lezione di manoscritti autorevoli, dei quali constata e rispetta la grafia.11 All’attenzione testuale si salda il concetto di euphonia quale parametro linguistico, come Gellio anticipa nel lemma: Quod a scriptoribus elegantissimis maior ratio habita sit sonitus uocum atque uerborum iucundioris, quae a Graecis εὐφωνία dicitur, quam regulae disciplinaeque, quae a grammaticis reperta est.

Sarebbe dunque l’euphonia che consente, superando il criterio normativo, di affidare alcune scelte morfologiche, come in questo caso, alla sensibilità individuale.12 Gellio presenta da un lato un grammatico che si rifiuta di fornire regole, dall’altro un interlocutore che reclama indicazioni precise. L’insofferenza di Probo deriva da una programmatica asistematicità dottrinale, che si riflette nel carattere non scolastico del suo insegnamento; nello stesso tempo il commentarius di Gellio rivela l’atteggiamento di un intellettuale poco avvezzo alla scuola tradizionale, che non è abituato a esercitare pazienza e comprensione nei confronti degli interlocutori, siano essi discepoli o semplici conoscenti, e allontana bruscamente gli indociles. La singolarità della dottrina probiana e il particolare metodo di insegnamento sono messi bene in luce nella vita di Svetonio che, come è stato osservato, permette di “mesurer la distance qui sépare ce personnage des grammairiens ordinaires”;13 la figura di Probo appare quasi un unicum nel De grammaticis: diversamente dalla maggior parte dei suoi colleghi non svolge attività professionale regolare e non mira a un folto uditorio, preferendo riunire pochi, scelti discepoli in conversazioni che si svolgono nelle ore pomeridiane, durante le quali non parla ex cathedra, ma sdraiato comodamente.14 E senz’altro è all’interno di questo ristretto gruppo di sectatores (unum et alterum uel cum plurimum tres aut quattuor) che vanno indivi9 10

11 12 13 14

Gel. 13.21.9. Cfr. L. Gamberale, Autografi virgiliani e movimento arcaizzante, in: Atti del convegno virgiliano nel bimillenario delle Georgiche (Napoli 17–19 dicembre 1975), Napoli 1977, 359–362 e Id., La riscoperta dell’arcaico, in: Lo spazio letterario di Roma antica (a cura di G. Cavallo, P. Fedeli, A. Giardina), Roma 1993, 3, 577–579; sulla consultazione di manoscritti da parte di Gellio v. anche Timpanaro, Per la storia della filologia, 34–42. Timpanaro, Per la storia della filologia, 28 s. F. Cavazza, Gellio e i canoni (varroniani?) della Latinitas, in: Grammatica e ideologia nella storia della linguistica (a cura di P. Berrettoni, F. Lorenzi), Perugia 1997, 131 s. Vacher, Suétone, 194. Suet. Gram. 24.4: Hic non tam discipulos quam sectatores aliquot habuit. Numquam enim ita docuit ut magistri personam sustineret: unum et alterum uel cum plurimum tres aut quattuor postmeridianis horis admittere solebat cubansque inter longos ac uulgares sermones legere quaedam, idque perraro.

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duati i familiares di Probo, importante fonte gelliana sul grammatico,15 mentre non dovrebbe essere annoverato fra costoro il rudis profecto et aure agresti homo, impazientemente congedato, che forse aspirava a far parte del cenacolo intellettuale. Tornando a Gellio, il breve specimen di lezione probiana si richiama al suo stesso ideale didattico di un insegnamento non normativo, ma problematico, che privilegia la discussione e la ricerca al risultato.16 In tale ottica deve essere interpretata la polemica contro finitiones praerancidae e fetutinae grammaticae. Non sappiamo se davvero Probo abbia pronunciato queste parole di aperta sfiducia nei confronti di una tendenza normativa portata all’eccesso e percepita come lontana dalla realtà della lingua; di sicuro certe forzature espressive sono estranee a Gellio, che, più probabilmente, ha riportato fedelmente quanto riferito dal familiaris di Probo. Si può osservare però come Gellio, nell’attribuire a Probo la violenta invettiva, appaia mosso da un duplice scopo. Da una parte vuole caratterizzare la teoria e la prassi didattica di Probo, dall’altra, facendo sua una valutazione fortemente critica, trova modo di esprimere il proprio orientamento in fatto di dottrina grammaticale e didassi. Come si vede, il problema morfologico presentato nel capitolo, cioè l’alternanza delle forme -em /-im e -es /­is rispettivamente per l’accusativo singolare e plurale di temi in -i della terza declinazione, dovuta a fenomeni di attrazione analogica,17 non è assolutamente dibattuto da Probo18 e tanto meno da Gellio. Quest’ultimo non trae spunto dalla discussione per proporre una spiegazione morfologica, ma lasciando spazio alla risposta di Probo, che sposta l’attenzione sul versante fonico e testuale, si adegua ad essa e amplia l’esemplificazione con altri casi degni di nota.19 Già Varrone aveva constatato la concorrenza delle due forme desinenziali, individuando in questo fenomeno un evidente caso di anomalia: Quae si esset (sc. analogia), negant ullum casum duobus modis debuisse dici; quod fit contra. Nam sine reprehensione uulgo alii dicunt in singulari ‘hac oui’ et ‘aui’, alii ‘hac oue’ et ‘aue’, in multitudinis ‘hae puppis restis’ et ‘hae puppes restes’; item quod in patrico casu hoc genus dispariliter dicuntur ‘ciuitatum parentum’ et ‘ciuitatium parentium’, in accusandi ‘hos montes, fontes’ et ‘hos montis, fontis’.20

L’originalità di Probo consiste nell’aver evidenziato la coesistenza degli allotropi morfologici “nel ristretto ambito del linguaggio poetico individuale”.21 Virgilio, evocato dal grammatico, appare come auctoritas indiscussa: quella che all’interlo15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Gellio riferisce informazioni ricevute da familiares e discipuli di Probo in 1.15.18; 3.1.5; 6.7.3; 9.9.12–17; 13.21.1–8; invece in 4.7.1–5; 15.30.3–5; 17.9.5 ricorda di aver attinto a scritti probiani. Cfr. M. Pugliarello, Disparilitas e memoria nella trama delle Noctes Atticae, in: Serta Antiqua et Mediaevalia, Genova 1997, 107. Cfr. A. Ernout, Morphologie historique du latin, Paris 1974 (=1953), 50–56; M. Leumann, Lateinische Laut- und Formenlehre, München 1977, 437–440; F. Cavazza, Aulo Gellio. Le notti attiche, libro XIII 19–31 (testo, trad. e comm.), Bologna 1999, 102–104. Cfr. la critica alla dottrina probiana di Scivoletto, La “filologia”, 109. Gel. 13.21.10. Var. L. 8.66; cfr. per la documentazione virgiliana F. Bömer, Der Akkusativus pluralis auf -is, -eis und -es bei Vergil, in: Emerita 21, 1953, 182–234. Pascucci, Valerio Probo e i ueteres, 32.

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cutore di Probo sembra una oscillazione occasionale, mentre dovrebbe essere sottomessa a una regola precisa, è riconosciuta come il risultato della somma maestria del poeta, attento al valore musicale delle parole.22 Ma, a monte dell’interesse per l’aspetto fonico della lingua, troviamo comunque i manoscritti, la cui lettura è alla base della riflessione probiana; Probo non si serve della propria sensibilità al suono per scegliere fra lezioni contrastanti, ma rispetta il testo dei manoscritti e solo in un secondo momento ne giustifica le apparenti contraddizioni proponendo il criterio della euphonia.23 Per quanto riguarda, poi, la tradizione manoscritta dei loci virgiliani menzionati dal grammatico, ricordo che in gran parte concorda con le lezioni probiane, in genere accolte dagli editori.24 Il metodo filologico di Probo, ancorato alla realtà dei manoscritti, si rivela rispettoso dei testi e della correttezza linguistica. Dalla spiegazione di Probo emerge una netta contrapposizione fra auctoritas (cioè Virgilio) e finitio (regola). Gellio stesso condivide questo orientamento, come si legge nel lemma che, sintetizzando l’argumentum del capitolo, lascia trasparire ostilità nei confronti della precettistica grammaticale (maior ratio habita sit sonitus uocum atque uerborum iucundioris […]quam regulae disciplinaeque, quae a gram­ maticis reperta est). La critica nei confronti di alcuni grammatici, o sedicenti tali, descritti come pedanti, superficiali e talvolta anche ignoranti, ricorre frequentemente nelle Noctes Atticae, dove Gellio non si esime da una severa valutazione dei contenuti e dei metodi dell’insegnamento.25 Del resto già Quintiliano aveva affermato aliud esse Latine, aliud grammatice loqui,26 individuando nella tendenza allo schematismo normativo uno dei rischi dell’insegnamento dell’ars grammatica, disciplina di cui peraltro si dichiarava appassionato fautore.27

22 23 24

25

26 27

F. Portalupi, Contributo alla critica di Virgilio nel II secolo, in: Atti del convegno virgiliano nel bimillenario delle Georgiche (Napoli 17–19 dicembre 1975), Napoli 1977, 478. Cfr. Timpanaro, Per la storia della filologia, 112: “Probo non si affidava al proprio orecchio, ma ai manoscritti (non sempre necessariamente fededegni) e considerava l’orecchio – magari illudendosi – solo come una convalida a posteriori di ciò che leggeva nei manoscritti.” A Verg. G. 1.25 Geymonat (P. Vergili Maronis Opera, Roma 2008, 2a ed.) accoglie urbis, di fronte a urbes di alcuni manoscritti; per Verg. A. 3.106 i codici concordano su urbes; al verso A. 2.460 la tradizione manoscritta concorda su turrim, testimoniato anche da Prisciano (G.L. 2.329.6; ma Char. 45.14 B. riporta turrem), così come su securim (A. 2, 224), parimenti citato da Prisciano (G.L. 2, 329, 11). Per il rapporto di Gellio con i grammatici cfr. G. Maselli, Lingua e scuola in Gellio grammatico, Lecce 1979, 31 s.; L. Gamberale, La filosofia di Domizio Insano, ovvero Gellio e i confini della grammatica, in: Storia, letteratura e arte a Roma nel secondo secolo dopo Cristo (Atti del Convegno, Mantova 8–10 ottobre 1992), Firenze 1995, 249–275; F. Cavazza, Gellio grammatico e i suoi rapporti con l’ars grammatica romana, in: The History of Linguistics in the Classical Period (ed. by D. J. Taylor), Amsterdam-Philadelphia 1987, 97–99; si veda anche R. A. Kaster, Guardians of Language. The Grammarian and Society in Late Antiquity, Berkeley – Los Angeles – London 1988, 50–60. Quint. Inst. 1.6.27. Cfr. Quint. Inst. 1.4.5: necessaria (sc. ars grammatica) pueris, iucunda senibus, dulcis secretorum comes et quae uel sola in omni studiorum genere plus habeat operis quam ostentationis; si veda anche la precisazione di Quint. Inst.1.7.34: Sed nihil ex grammatice nocuerit, nisi quod superuacuum est.

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Nell’articolazione dell’insegnamento scolastico, suddiviso fra poetarum enar­ ratio e recte loquendi scientia,28 sono gli auctores che, veri garanti della correttezza linguistica, ridimensionano le rigide regole grammaticali, consentendone la giusta interpretazione; di fronte alle scelte creative del poeta, le norme grammaticali sono per Probo finitiones praerancidae e fetutinae grammaticae: non finitiones illas praerancidas neque fetutinas grammaticas spectaueris.29 Finitio corrisponde in vari campi lessicali a “regola, precetto, prescrizione”;30 nel linguaggio grammaticale è attestato in età imperiale, anche se sporadicamente, come vocabolo tecnico, sinonimo di regula, norma grammaticale31 e con questo significato è utilizzato da Gellio stesso.32 Se finitiones, di per sé privo di particolare connotazione è, per così dire, semanticamente neutro, il qualificante praerancidas segnala la valutazione negativa di Probo (e di Gellio). Praerancidus è hapax gelliano,33 mentre nelle Noctes Atticae ricorre, in questa stessa accezione, l’avverbio rancide, in riferimento all’uso fastidioso e sgradevole di presunte eleganze stilistiche o di parole non appropriate.34 Praerancidus è termine espressivo, che rinvia al parlato, sia per il significato stesso dell’aggettivo rancidus, sia, ancora di più, per il prefisso intensivo prae.35 Se comunque finitiones praerancidas è espressione non del tutto estranea a Gellio, non si può fare la stessa osservazione per fetutinas gram­ maticas, accostamento che, fortemente connotato in senso negativo, dovrebbe piuttosto riflettere le parole e il pensiero di Probo. Fetutinae è voce rara e propria del volgare,36 documentata solo nel II secolo d.C. e precisamente in questo passo di Aulo Gellio, che comunque ne fa risalire l’uso a Probo, e in un locus dell’Apologia di Apuleio, dove appare in coppia sinonimica con olenticetum, in riferimento alla lingua malefica e menzognera di Emiliano, degna solo di fetidi letamai: nocens lingua mendaciorum et amaritudinum praeministra semper in fetutinis et olentice­ tis iaceat.37

28

29 30 31

32 33 34 35 36 37

Quint. Inst. 1.4.2 : Haec igitur professio, cum breuissime in duas partis diuidatur, recte loquendi scientiam et poetarum enarrationem, plus habet in recessu quam fronte promittit; Inst. 1.9.1: Et finitae quidem sunt partes duae, quas haec professio pollicetur, id est ratio loquendi et enarratio auctorum, quarum illam methodicen, hanc historicen vocant; e ancora: Quint. Inst. 1.2.14 e anche Cic. de Orat. 1.187; Sen. Ep. 88.3; cfr. M. Pugliarello, A lezione dal grammaticus: la lettura degli auctores, in: Maia 61, 2009, 592–594. Gel. 13.21.1. Cfr. ThlL 6.802.38–56. Finitio, con questo valore semantico, si legge in Plinio fr. 51 Mazzarino (= 79 Della Casa); il passo è riportato da Carisio 178.25–27 B.: Quoniam nec finitionem ullam in monosyllabis, inquit (sc. Plinius), grammatici temptauerunt, così come in Festo 378.13 s. L.: quae nunc contraria uidentur esse finitioni portionis; cfr. F. Cavazza, Aulo Gellio. Le notti attiche, 104 s. Gel. 6.17.13; 15.9.11. Cfr. ThlL 10.2.789, 65–68. Cfr. Gel. 18.8.1 ; 18.11.2. R. Marache, Mots nouveaux et mots archaïques chez Fronton et Aulu-Gelle, Paris 1957, 127. Marache, Mots nouveaux, 171. Apul. Apol. 8; cfr. anche Claud. Mam. Anim. 2.9.

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L’etimologia del vocabolo f(o)etutinae è discussa: da alcuni studiosi viene fatta risalire a foeteo, foetor,38 mentre Marache vi individua una relazione con fetus.39 Indipendentemente dalla derivazione etimologica, è comunque evidente il forte significato negativo del termine, come del resto si legge nei glossari tardolatini, che spiegano: Foetutina: res foedae et sordidae et inquinatissimae.40 Il linguaggio di Probo si configura dunque, in questa specie di breve lezione orale, come intriso di espressioni volutamente rudi e popolari. Svetonio, rilevando la peculiarità dell’insegnamento probiano, menziona i longi ac uulgares sermones mediante i quali il maestro svolgeva un’attività didattica libera da condizionamenti, sia organizzativi che dottrinari; anche se in questo caso il sermo non può definirsi longus, ma semmai sintetico e incisivo, comunque la formulazione intensa e aderente al parlato conferma il dato biografico svetoniano. La critica contro finitiones rancidae e foetutinae grammaticae, espressa da Probo e fatta propria da Gellio, mira a stigmatizzare l’artificiosa cristallizzazione del dogmatismo normativo e riflette l’esigenza di considerare i criteri che definiscono la correttezza linguistica nel loro molteplice intrecciarsi. La grammatica di Probo e di Gellio non appare qui come una scienza esatta, ma nasce dalla mediazione di diversi parametri che, sincronicamente presenti nella lingua, ne indirizzano il funzionamento e la conseguente interpretazione. L’euphonia fa parte dei “canoni che rientrano nei criteri della lingua corretta”;41 e viene spesso chiamata in causa, come nel capitolo gelliano, in presenza di scelte lessicali, morfologiche e fonematiche giustificate e accolte nell’alveo della lingua corretta in nome dell’attenzione all’aspetto sonoro del linguaggio. Il termine euphonia, documentato a partire da Quintiliano,42 è presente nei testi grammaticali tardolatini e definisce uno spazio riservato alla valutazione della musicalità, che si sottrae all’azione di altri parametri linguistici; come osserverà Donato: uerum euphoniam in dictionibus plus interdum ualere, quam analogiam uel regulam praeceptorum.43 Il criterio proposto da Probo è dunque irriducibile a ogni tentativo di schematizzazione normativa e appare riservato piuttosto alla sensibilità individuale. Come si vede, il capitolo è ricco di implicazioni per la storia della grammatica e della filologia; ai fini di una piena valutazione, tuttavia, non si può prescindere dal considerare la struttura stessa del commentarius. Gellio riporta le parole di un anonimo familiaris,44 il quale a sua volta riferisce un episodio relativo all’attività del 38 39 40 41 42

43 44

Così A. Ernout, A. Meillet, Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue latine (retirage de la 4e édition augm. d’add. et corr. par J. André), Paris 2001, 244; cfr. anche ThlL 6.1010.55. Marache, Mots nouveaux, 171; cfr. Leumann, Lateinische Laut-, 224. Gloss. 5.23.18; cfr. 23.14; il vocabolo è citato anche da Non. 88.23 L. Cavazza, Aulo Gellio. Le notti attiche, 121; cfr. anche Cavazza, Gellio e i canoni, 131–133. Quint. Inst. 1.5.4: Sola est quae notari possit uelut uocalitas, quae εὐφωνία dicitur: cuius in eo dilectus est, ut inter duo, quae idem significant ac tantundem ualent, quod melius sonet malis; Quintiliano utilizza la grafia greca, come Gellio. Il rinvio alle aures nel giudizio sull’aspetto fonico del linguaggio risale a Cicerone (orat.159 e 163); per la documentazione sull’importanza delle aures nella valutazione dell’ euphonia si veda Cavazza, Le notti attiche, 105 n. 8. Don. G.L. IV 379, 2 = 627.12 Holtz. Unico familiaris di Probo di cui si conosca il nome è Anniano, che ne era stato allievo; appare nelle Noctes Atticae come amico di Gellio e poeta arcaizzante (Gel. 6.7; 9.10 e 20.8).

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grammatico: la trattazione si articola, in un gioco di scatole cinesi, su tre livelli, dei quali all’ultimo, più lontano cronologicamente, è riservata la brillante ed efficace mise en scène,45 rivolta a caratterizzare la figura professionale di Probo. Ma anche a se stesso Gellio assegna un ruolo ben preciso, presentandosi, nel prosieguo della narrazione, come un sectator di Probo che ne porta avanti l’insegnamento:46 Nos autem aliud quoque postea consimiliter a Vergilio duplici modo scriptum inueni­ mus.47 Il commentarius appare diviso in due parti, la prima riservata a Probo (paragrafi 1–9), la seconda dedicata alla personale chasse aux mots48 di Gellio stesso (paragrafi 10–25), che si indirizza, per quanto riguarda Virgilio, verso un caso analogo di accusativo allotropo per i temi in ­i, e verso un esempio di oscillazione di genere,49 per poi toccare la presenza di forme eterogene e eteroclite in vari autori,50 a conferma dell’insegnamento probiano e dell’importanza dell’euphonia. Ma Gellio si pone sulla scia del maestro anche nella lettura dei manoscritti antichi, giacché corrobora la sua selezione di particolarità lessicali riportando la lezione peccatu in un locus della quinta verrina di Cicerone (5.169), di cui ricorda: hoc enim scriptum in uno atque in altero antiquissimae fidei libro Tironiano repperi.51 Probo è certo fra i maestri più apprezzati da Gellio, che lo presenta come portavoce di una concezione di grammatica ampia e asistematica e di approccio didattico libero da condizionamenti normativi, raffigurandosi come suo allievo e seguace e ripercorrendone le tracce. BIBLIOGRAFIA Bömer F., Der Akkusativus pluralis auf -is, -eis und -es bei Vergil, in: Emerita 21, 1953, 182–234 Cavazza F., Aulo Gellio. Le notti attiche, libro XIII 19–31 (testo, trad. e comm.), Bologna 1999 Cavazza F., Gellio e i canoni (varroniani?) della Latinitas, in: Grammatica e ideologia nella storia della linguistica (a cura di P. Berrettoni, F. Lorenzi), Perugia 1997 Cavazza F., Gellio grammatico e i suoi rapporti con l’ars grammatica romana, in: The History of Linguistics in the Classical Period (ed. by D. J. Taylor), Amsterdam-Philadelphia 1987, 85–104 Della Casa A., La “grammatica” di Valerio Probo, in: Argentea aetas, in memoriam Entii V. Marmo-

45

46 47 48 49 50 51

Sulla mise en scène di Aulo Gellio cito le pagine fondamentali di Marache, La mise en scène des “Nuits Attiques”. Aulu-Gelle et la diatribe, in: Pallas 1, 1953, 84–95.; v. L. Holford -Strevens, Fact and Fiction in Aulus Gellius, in: LCM 7, 1982, 65–68.; cfr. anche L. Holford -Strevens, Aulus Gellius, 65–72. Cfr. Timpanaro, Per la storia della filologia, 29. Gel.13.21.10. R. Marache, Mots nouveaux, 12. Gel.13.21.10-12; si tratta di Verg. A. 10.350 s. (tres /tris); A. 2.554; A.1.241 (finis). Gel. 13.21.13–24; Gellio cita Ennio (Ann. 490 Vahlen = 511 Skutsch; Ann. 454 Vahlen = 440 Skutsch), Cicerone (Verr. 2.191; 4.99; 5.169), Lucrezio (2.1153 s.). Gel. 13.21.16. Si deve osservare che nei tre loci ciceroniani citati da Gellio due lezioni non trovano conferma nella tradizione diretta: Verr. 2.191(peccatu) e 5.169 (fretu); sulle lezioni tironiane riportate da Gellio cfr. Timpanaro, Per la storia della filologia, 200–209; Id., Virgilianisti antichi, 167.

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rale, Genova 1973, 139–160 (= Grammatica e letteratura. Scritti scelti di A. Della Casa, Genova 1994, 117–140) Delvigo M. L., Testo virgiliano e tradizione indiretta. Le varianti probiane, Pisa 1987 Ernout A., Morphologie historique du latin, Paris 1974 (=1953) Ernout A., Meillet A., Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue latine (retirage de la 4e édition augm. d’add. et corr. par J. André), Paris 2001 Gamberale L., Autografi virgiliani e movimento arcaizzante, in: Atti del convegno virgiliano nel bimillenario delle Georgiche (Napoli 17–19 dicembre 1975), Napoli 1977, 359–367 Gamberale L., La filosofia di Domizio Insano, ovvero Gellio e i confini della grammatica, in: Storia, letteratura e arte a Roma nel secondo secolo dopo Cristo (Atti del Convegno, Mantova 8–10 ottobre 1992), Firenze 1995, 249–275 Gamberale L., La riscoperta dell’arcaico, in: Lo spazio letterario di Roma antica (a cura di G. Cavallo, P. Fedeli, A. Giardina), Roma, 1993, 3, 547–595 Geymonat M., P. Vergili Maronis Opera (rec.), Roma 2008, 2a ed. Herzog R., Restauration et renouveau. La littérature latine de 284 à 374 après J.-C., Turnhout 1993 Holford-Strevens L., Aulus Gellius. An Antonine Scholar and his Achievement, Oxford 2003, 2a ed. (=2007) Holford – Strevens L., Fact and Fiction in Aulus Gellius, in: LCM 7, 1982, 65–68 Kaster R. A., Guardians of Language. The Grammarian and Society in Late Antiquity, Berkeley – Los Angeles – London 1988 Kaster R. A., Suetonius Tranquillus. De grammaticis et rhetoribus (ed. with transl., intr. and comm.), Oxford 1995 Leumann M., Lateinische Laut- und Formenlehre, München 1977 Marache R., La mise en scène des “Nuits Attiques”. Aulu-Gelle et la diatribe, in: Pallas 1, 1953, 84–95 Marache R., Mots nouveaux et mots archaïques chez Fronton et Aulu-Gelle, Paris 1957 Maselli G., Lingua e scuola in Gellio grammatico, Lecce 1979 Pascucci G., Valerio Probo e i ueteres, in: Grammatici latini d’età imperiale, Genova 1976, 17–40 Portalupi F., Contributo alla critica di Virgilio nel II secolo, in: Atti del convegno virgiliano nel bimillenario delle Georgiche (Napoli 17–19 dicembre 1975), Napoli 1977, 471–487 Pugliarello M., A lezione dal grammaticus: la lettura degli auctores, in: Maia 61, 2009, 592–610 Pugliarello M., Disparilitas e memoria nella trama delle Noctes Atticae, in: Serta Antiqua et Mediaevalia, Genova 1997, 105–119 Rocchi S., I ueteres di Valerio Probo, in: Dialogando con il passato. Permanenze e innovazioni in età flavia (a cura di A. Bonadeo, E. Romano), Firenze 2007, 77–96 Scivoletto N., La “filologia” di Valerio Probo di Berito, in: GIF 121, 1959, 97–124 (= Studi di letteratura latina imperiale, Napoli 1963, 155–221) Timpanaro S., Per la storia della filologia virgiliana antica, Roma 1986 Timpanaro S., Virgilianisti antichi e tradizione indiretta, Firenze 2001 Vacher M. C., Suétone. Grammairiens et rhéteurs (texte ét. et trad.), Paris 1993 Velaza J., M. Valeri Probi Beryti Fragmenta (ed.), Barcelona 2005

13 A NOTE ON ‘PROTOTYPON’ AND ‘ABSOLUTUM’ IN ANCIENT LATIN GRAMMAR Javier Uría Abstract This paper seeks to elucidate some difficult passages which reflect different uses of the words prototypon and absolutum in ancient Latin grammarians. Both terms are used to refer to the positive degree of the adjective. It is shown how these terms have often lost the precise meaning they had in the Greek sources. Still, there are some passages where the original nuance seems to have been preserved. Some aspects of the adaptation of Greek terminology to Latin grammar teaching are dealt with. Proposals for textual emendations are also put forward. Within the general monotony and uniformity reigning over the corpus of the Gram­ matici Latini, some particular points stand out as surprisingly varied or even contradictory, whether because of the different source used, a different approach by one or another grammarian, or because of a misinterpretation by either an author or a later copyist. As I shall try to show in this paper, this seems to be the case in some uses of the Greek loan word prototypon (or prototypus) and some other related terms in later Latin grammarians.1 The word prototypon is correctly glossed as “basic form” in Shad’s Lexicon,2 and so it is in the relevant entry of the ThLL, which provides a generous explanation of the grammatical use of the word: “i. q. primiformis, sc. forma originaria praeditus, unde alia derivantur (neutr. pro subst. de exemplari, prima positione sim. maxime …)” (ThLL X 2.2291.43–44). In fact, modern lexicographers have simply followed in the steps of the Latin grammarians, who glossed the word themselves, as in the case of Diom. gramm. 1.408.4 sunt quaedam principalia, quae Graeci prototypa dicunt, ut fons mons villa schola hortus, and Martyr.–Cassiod. gramm. 7.179.10 ergo composita vel appellativa vel traducticia sive facticia, id est quae ex

1

2

It was a real pleasure to accept the invitation to contribute to the volume in memoriam of Ioannis Taifacos, so I can repay the generosity of a man who kindly invited me to the Millennium Conference (Cyprus 2000), thus giving me, when still a young scholar, the opportunity to meet the leading scholars in the field of Greek and Latin grammarians. S. Schad, A Lexicon of Latin Grammatical Terminology, Pisa–Roma 2007, 333. As for Priscian, I could also use the rich information in M. A. Gutiérrez (dir.), Diccionario Electrónico Concordado de Términos Gramaticales y Retóricos Latinos (DECOTGREL, Pmin.), which I have been kindly allowed to use before publication. For the corresponding Greek word see V. Bécares Botas, Diccionario de terminología gramatical griega, Salamanca 1985, 334.

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aliis facta sunt, notare debemus sequentes prototypa, id est primas positiones,3 ut novus novalis … It is noticeable that in this term there is an underlying idea of the impositio nominum, which can be traced back to Plato’s Cratylus (Pl. Cra. 422d), and which is later developed in some lost books of Varro’s De lingua latina.4 In spite of the unambiguous, clear–cut sense of the word, we find different uses in parallel passages from the grammarians of the so–called “group of Charisius” (Diomedes, Dositheus, the Anonymus Bobiensis and Charisius himself).5 This can easily be seen by comparing, on the one hand,6 [1] Diom. gramm. 1.408.4 haec adverbia prototypum non habent, post posterior postumus, supra superior supremus, infra inferior infimus, prope propior proximus, intra interior intimus, extra exterior extremus, ultra ulterior ultimus, citra citerior non habet; pe­ nitus penitissimus [2] Dosith. gramm. 44.3–4 haec adverbia πρωτότυπον non habent, velut post posterius pos­ tremum, supra superius supremum, infra inferius infime, propius proxime, extra ex­ terius extreme, ultra ulterius ultimo, citra citerius citime. Penes et penitus non habent ex se comparativa nec superlativa, ut supra scripta adverbia …

with, on the other hand,

3

4

5

6

On positio (Greek θέσις) as the basis for positivus see V. I. Mazhuga, Die Begriffe absolutus und absolutivus in der römischen Grammatik (1. bis 5. Jh. N. Chr.), in: Th. Fögen, Antike Fachtexte – Ancient Technical Texts, Berlin–New York 2005, 171–189, esp. 177 f. The relevant text is D.T. 25.3–4 πρωτότυπον μὲν οὖν ἐστι τὸ κατὰ τὴν πρώτην θέσιν λεχθέν. It has been pointed out that in his bilingual handbook Dositheus uses πρωτότυπα to render primae posi­ tionis and that, by doing so, he invites the reader “à considérer plus spécialement le stade créateur de l’impositio uerborum” (G. Bonnet, Glose ou traduction? La version grecque de l’‘Ars grammatica’ de Dosithée, in: L. Basset et al., Bilinguisme et terminologie grammaticale gréco-latine, Leuven–Paris–Duley, MA 2007, 191–199, esp. 196). See J. J. Iso, Derivación y composición: su posición en el ‘De lingua Latina’ de Varrón, in: Voces 8–9, 1997–98, 57–73, especially 59; D. Blank, Varro and the epistemological status of etymology, in: Histoire Épistémologie Langage 30, 2008, 49–73, especially 65–58. As for the Techne of Dionysius Thrax (see preceding note), we can follow P. Swiggers (Histoire de la pensée linguistique. Analyse du langage et réflexion linguistique dans la culture occidentale, de l’Antiquité au xixe siècle, Paris 1997, 39 f.), and state that “la définition du nom primaire suggère que l’auteur croit à une ‘première institution’ (par qui?) des noms, mais le texte n’offre aucun critère pour reconnaître le prōtótupon. Le grammairien garde le silence en ce qui concerne le caractère approprié ou non des noms” For Charisius I used K. Barwick, Flavii Sosipatri Charisii Artis Grammaticae Libri V, ed. corr. F. Kühnert, Leipzig 1964; for Dositheus, G. Bonnet, Dosithée. Grammaire latine, Paris 2005; for the Anonymus Bobiensis, M. De Nonno, La grammatica dell’‘Anonymus Bobiensis’ (GL I 533–565 Keil). Con un’appendice carisiana, Roma 1982; for the rest of Latin grammarians, H. Keil, Grammatici Latini. 8 vols., Leipzig 1957–1880, although F. Biville et al., Priscien. Grammaire, livre xvii – Syntaxe, 1, Paris 2010 was consulted for some passages from Priscian. For Apollonius Dyscolus and Dionysius Thrax I followed the volumes in Grammatici Graeci, edited respectively by G. Uhlig (1883), and R. Schneider and G. Uhlig (1878–1910), but I also consulted the annotated translations by Jean Lallot: Apollonius Dyscole. De la construction (Perì syntáxeos), 2 vols., Paris 1997, and La grammaire de Denys Le Thrace, Paris 1989. For the purposes of clarity I will number some of the most important passages I am quoting, so that abbreviated internal references are easy to follow.

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[3] Char. gramm. 148.6–8 sunt comparativa adverbia ex prototypis. velut est prope adverbium; ex hoc fit comparativum propius proxime: item intus interius intime, et siqua alia (the passage comes from book I, chapter xvi “De gradibus comparationis sive conlationis”).

It is obvious that there are two different points of view in these passages: Diomedes and Dositheus (examples [1] and [2], both at the end of a section on the adverb) emphasize the lack of a positive adjective corresponding to comparative forms such as (e.g.) posterior–posterius7 and to superlative forms such as postumus­postre­ mum.8 In turn, Charisius (example [3]) points out that there are some comparative adverbs that are derived from a basic adverb, that is to say, from an adverb that is not itself derived from another word (usually an adjective): this is remarkable because it is an exception to the rule stating that there is a comparative for those adverbs derived from adjectives that have themselves a comparative (Diom. gramm. I 405, 20–22 conparationem recipiunt adverbia, quotiens appellationes unde transe­ unt conparantur, ut docte doctius doctissime, quia est doctus doctior doctissimus). However, the closest parallel for the Diomedes and Dositheus passages is not the above–mentioned passage [3], but rather two other passages from Charisius and the Anonymus Bobiensis, both of them in the section on comparison included in the chapter de nomine: [4] Char. gramm. 199.10–12 sunt item nomina superlativa quae absolutum non habent, sed ab adverbio , ut citerior citimus a citra, inferior infimus ab infra; superior supremus a supra, prior etiam et primus ab adverbio prius et peior pessimus ab adverbio peius. [5] Anon. Bob. 7.22 sunt etiam nomina superlativa quae absolutum, id est πρωτότυπον, non habent, sed ex adverbio veniunt, ut ulterior ultimus ab ultra adverbio, citerior citimus a citra, inferior infimus ab infra, superior summus a supra, prior etiam et primus ab adverbio prius et peior pessimus ab adverbio peius.9

As I have said, these two passages are not included in the section on adverbs, but in the chapter de nomine: this is very important, as it explains why Diomedes (passage [1]; see note 7 above) gives examples using the comparative and superlative of the adjective, and not of the adverb (supra superior supremus and so on). Also, from that inconsistency in Diomedes, we can deduce that the source of Charisius’ group very probably dealt with those forms in the chapter de nomine (as witnessed by Charisius [4] and the Anonymus [5]), and that their inclusion in the chapter de ad­ verbio is an innovation by Dositheus and Diomedes. In making this innovation, and unlike Diomedes, Dositheus (text [2]) was aware of the new context of the paragraph (the chapter de adverbio) and consequently replaced the adjectival forms with the corresponding adverbial forms (supra superius supremum and so on). However, even Dositheus leaves an inconsistent point in his adaptation, namely πρωτότυπον non habent, for it is not true that, e.g., propius–proxime do not have a base form: actually, the adverb prope is their base form, as is clearly stated in 7 8 9

Bonnet (Dosithée, 168) is right in remarking that, unlike Dositheus, Diomedes writes down the comparative of the adjective, and not that of the adverb, as expected; however, he does not try to explain this inconsistency (see below for a possible explanation). Let us note again the divergence between the two grammarians. An exact parallel of these passages is found also in Dosith. gramm. 25.12–17.

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Charisius (text [3] sunt comparativa adverbia ex prototypis. velut est prope adver­ bium). What propius really lacks is an adjectival base form. In contrast, this inconsistency is not in the passages from Charisius and the Anonymus (texts [4] and [5]), given that they emphasize the lack of a corresponding positive adjective (absolu­ tum) for some comparative and superlative (adjectival) forms. In turn, those passages exhibit a different “oddity”, namely the use of nomina superlativa, which does not seem to be fully consistent (or, at least, incomplete) in a context where both the comparative and superlative are dealt with.10 Regarding this oddity, I think it is very probable that the handbook used as a source by the group of Charisius11 presented a somewhat trivialized account of this point, in which the original doctrine, whoever had developed it, might have read either relativa or relativa et super­ lativa instead of superlativa;12 in support of this hypothesis we can quote two passages from the section de barbarismo in Charisius’ handbook: [6] Char. gramm. 354.1–5 in nominibus, absolutum pro relativo, ut ‘neve putes alium sapiente bonoque beatum’ pro beatiorem, absolutum pro superlativo, ut ‘sequimur te, sancte deorum’ pro sanctissime, [7] 354.14–16 adverbiis, cum relativum pro absoluto , ut ‘saepius Andromache ferre incomitata solebat’ pro saepe.

Texts [6] and [7], together with the original phrasing I have suggested for the source of texts [4] and [5], provide an interesting parallel for a Greek tradition of the use of ἀπολελυμένον.13 Within Greek grammar, this term was used to refer to a se­ mantic14 category of the noun: D.T. 44.6–7 Ἀπολελυμένον δέ ἐστιν ὃ καθ᾽ ἑαυτὸ νοεῖται, οἷον θεός λόγος (see the translation in Lallot, La grammaire de Denys, 57: “Le (nom) absolu es celui qui est pensé en lui-même, par exemple ‘dieu’, ‘raison’”). However, the word is found much earlier in philosophical contexts with the meaning of ‘absolute’; in these contexts it is the opposite of ‘relative’ (πρός τι).15 According to Wouters, this contrast between ‚absolute‘ and ‘relative’ was “applied very early to distinguish the semantic notion of the positive degree of an adjectival 10

11

12 13 14 15

The peculiarity is noted by De Nonno, Anonymus Bobiensis, 7: “exspectes superlativa, sed cf. Dos.” Also Bonnet (Dosithée, 140) attempts to explain it, but he cannot avoid using an exclamation mark when considering citerior, ulterior: “mais sa valeur n’est pas spécialement superlatif!” Very probably the handbook of Cominianus, as defended by P. L. Schmidt, Grammaire et rhétorique, in: R. Herzog – P. L. Schmidt (eds.), Nouvelle histoire de la littérature latine. 5. Restauration et renouveau 284–374, Turnhout 1993 (French edition by G. Nauroy [dir.]), 113– 181, esp. 139. This assumption has further consequences in the evaluation of some of the late Latin grammarians’ skills, which in many cases left much to be desired. For the following I am heavily indebted to A. Wouters, The Grammatical Term ἀπολελυμένον in the School Book Brit.Mus. Add.MS. 37533 (= Pack2 2712), in: Chronique d’Égypte 68, 1993, 168–177. Wouters, Grammatical Term, 171. For the complex philosophical background of this distinction, which seems to reflect two different traditions (an Academic one and a Stoic one), see P. Swiggers – A. Wouters, The treatment of relational nouns in ancient grammar, in: Orbis 38, 1995, 149–178. For the particular adaptation of Priscian, see also note 32 below.

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noun from that of the comparative and the superlative, which always contain a reference to something else”.16 Wouters founds this assumption on a text by Sextus Empiricus (S.E. M. 2.161–162), in which, when discussing the difference between things that have an absolute, and things that have a relative existence, he puts forward the parallel of the opposition between positive and comparative adjectives. Accordingly, Wouters concludes: “Such comparisons must have paved the way in Greek grammar for calling the first of the three gradus comparationis itself ‘absolute’, ‘non-referential’”.17 Even if the first use of ἀπολελυμένον for the gradus positivus is found relatively late in Herodianus18 I think Wouters is also right in proposing that the use may be much earlier, since its exact Latin counterpart19 absolutum is already in [8] Quint. Inst. 9.3.19 utimur vulgo et comparativis pro absolutis ut cum se quis infir­ miorem esse dixerit.20 The reason for the scarce early attestation of ἀπολελυμένον in Greek grammar may be that the Greek authors dealing with the comparative used to emphasize the morphological aspects, and consequently use πρωτότυπον “primary/basic form” for the positive degree. I can only agree with Jean Lallot’s statement21 that πρωτότυπον was probably used “dans le domaine morphologique”, ἀπολελυμένον being its “équivalent sémantique”.22 This distinction was mostly lost in Latin grammar, where prototypon is even used to gloss absolutum, as in text [5], and absolutus is found in plainly formal contexts;23 sometimes it simply reflects the Greek πρωτότυπον as in 16 17

18

19

20 21 22 23

Wouters, Grammatical Term, 173. Wouters, Grammatical Term, 174. It must be emphasized that it was not only the Stoic tradition that reflected the relationship between the category of πρός τι and the comparative: this was also the case in Aristotle, for example at the beginning of his treatment of relation: Arist. Cat. 6a 36–39 Πρός τι δὲ τὰ τοιαῦτα λέγεται, ὅσα αὐτὰ ἅπερ ἐστὶν ἑτέρων εἶναι λέγεται ἢ ὁπωσοῦν ἄλλως πρὸς ἕτερον· οἷον τὸ μεῖζον τοῦθ’ ὅπερ ἐστὶν ἑτέρου λέγεται, τινὸς γὰρ μεῖζον λέγεται. See Wouters, Grammatical Term, 174, with the remarks by S. Matthaios, Untersuchungen zur Grammatik Aristarchs: Texte und Interpretatione zur Wortartenlehre, Göttingen 1999, 270 n. 318. Hdn. Sol. 300.12–14 Nauck. It is noticeable that his contemporary Phrynicus (Phryn. PS p.1 B.) used the corresponding adverb in the sense of “in the positive degree” (see LSJ s.v.). For the possibility that ἀπολελυμένον had been previously used by Aristarchus and/or Aristonicus, see the discussion by Matthaios, Grammatik Aristarchs, 268. Needless to say, absolutum is both formally and semantically a strict parallel of ἀπολελυμένον; see Matthaios, Grammatik Aristarchs, 270: “Der Ausdruck absolutus, der in dieser Bedeutung bei Quintilian belegt ist, ist daher keine Innovation der römishen Grammatik, sondern geht auf den griechischen Terminus ἀπολελυμένον zurück”. Wouters, Grammatical Term, 176. Wouters, Grammatical Term, 172 n. 18. On similar lines, Matthaios, Grammatik Aristarchs, 268 n. 5: “Man kann vermuten, daβ Adjektive positiven Grades in Vergleich zu den Komparativ– und Superlativformen in morphologischer Hinsicht als primäre Nomina (πρωτότυπα) betracht wurden”. E.g., in Prob. gramm. 4.56.34–35 positivus sive absolutus gradus est ipsa positio, ut puta ‘for­ tis’ (note the use of positio, short for prima positio, one of the Latin counterparts of Greek πρωτότυπον); Char. gramm. 199.18–20 sunt alia absoluta quae nullo quidem gradu compa­ rationis figurantur (note the morphological verb figurare); 144.4–5 et est primus gradus abso­ lutus, quem et primitivum dixerunt (note primitivum, another Latin equivalent to πρωτότυπον:

228

Javier Uría Char. gramm. 196.22–25 sunt quaedam deminutiva quae in absolutis nominibus adiecta in novissima parte aut littera aut syllaba capiunt deminutionem sine ulla comparatione, ut mons monticulus, scholasticus scholasticulus (mons and schola are given some lines earlier as examples of nomina quae sicut nata sunt efferuntur),

a text to be compared with D.T. 28.6–7 Ὑποκοριστικὸν δέ ἐστι τὸ μείωσιν τοῦ πρωτοτύπου ἀσυγκρίτως δηλοῦν (translation by Lallot, La grammaire de Denys, 53: “Le diminutif est le dérivé qui indique une réduction du primaire, sans comparaison”). In spite of this, it may not be by chance that some of the remaining uses of ab­ solutum for the positive degree are found precisely where a matter of meaning is at issue, as is the case in passages [6], [7] and [8], which account for what we still know as “absolute (or intensive) use of the comparative”.24 However, the semantic approach to the comparative as a relative word was soon lost within the tradition, and no other Latin grammarian but Priscian seems to have been conscious of the original sense of absolutus.25 For I do not think one can claim that absolute is used by Charisius (gramm. 198.1) and Diomedes (gramm. 1.323.17) to distinguish nouns which are semantically related.26 As for Priscian, he is directly influenced by Apollonius, so that he does not only know the old distinction of relative and absolute nouns,27 but also the relationship of the comparative with the relative nouns,28 even if he may have not fully understood it.29 In fact, it is difficult to ascertain

24 25

26

27 28

29

principale is yet another one: see L. Basset, La dérivation adjectivale dans la terminologie grammaticale gréco-latine, in: L. Basset et al., Bilinguisme et terminologie grammaticale gréco-latine, Leuven–Paris–Duley, MA 2007, 57–69, esp. 62). See, e.g., P. M. Suárez Martínez, El sistema de la gradación en latín: noción básica, estructura y usos, in: Emerita 64, 1996, 45–58, esp. 45. Accordingly, I do not think that double labels such as positivus qui et absolutus (Diom. gramm. 1.324.16) or positivum sive absolutum (Consent. gramm. 5.342.3) were used to indicate “ein morphologisches als auch ein semantisches Verhältnis”, as suggested by Mazhuga, Die Begriffe, 179. This is the view taken by Mazhuga, Die Begriffe, 177. I have myself explained absolute in those texts as meaning “independently, not depending on another noun”: see J. Uría, Latin Grammarians echoing the Greeks: The doctrine on ‘proper epithets’ and the Adjective, in: Philologus 154, 2010, 97–118, esp. 106. Prisc. gramm. 2.62.5–6 absolutum est, quod per se intellegitur et non eget alterius coniunctione nominis, ut deus ratio. Prisc. gramm. 2.374.7–8 … positivus gradus dicitur, qui absolutus per se ponitur non egens alterius coniunctione; 3.141.11–15 discretiva [scil. pronomina] sunt quae egent adiunctione aliarum personarum, quae ὀρθοτονούμενα vocant, ut εἶδεν ἐμέ, οὐκ ἐκεῖνον: necesse est enim aliam inferre personam, quomodo in comparativis nominibus necesse est ad alias ea fieri [proferri var.lect. fortasse referri legendum] personas, absoluta vero eorum, id est positiva, per se proferuntur (to be compared with A.D. Synt. 133.3–7): see the text and translation of this passage in F. Biville et al., Priscien, 141: “Sont distinctifs ceux qui ont besoin de l’adjonction d’autres personnes; on les appelle en grec orthotonoumena, comme dans eiden eme, ouk ekei­ non [moi il m’a vu, pas lui], où il est indispensable qu’une autre personne soit introduite; c’est la même chose qu’avec les noms au comparatif: ils ne peuvent apparaître que par rapport à d’autres personnes, alors que ceux qui sont absolus, c’est-à-dire au positif, sont employés de façon autonome”. Regarding this, we can cite an interesting observation by S. Ebbesen, namely that Priscian

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whether Priscian has in mind in absentia or rather in praesentia relationships, for, when he states that the nomen absolutum does not need the addition of another noun, he is probably comparing it to the nomen adiectivum, which, in his own account, is the one that needs the addition of another noun.30 I mean that he seems to present the matter in terms of syntax, and not in terms of logic. Accordingly, when Priscian says that comparative nouns must refer to other persons,31 he may be simply meaning the so–called second term of the comparison, and not specifically the relational nature of the comparative.32 Coming back to the term prototypon I would finally like to emphasize that our interpretation of the doctrine in text [3] above (Char. gramm. 148.6–8 sunt compa­ rativa adverbia ex prototypis …) provides a basis for a full understanding of another passage in Charisius’ work, in which an unparalleled class of collativa adverbia33 is presented: [9] Char. gramm. 246.3–6 Collativa sunt adverbia. Varro (fr. 48 G.­Sch.) sic ait in III περὶ χαρακτήρων, propius proxime. in his extra consuetudinem communem frequenter perfectis uti solet Plautus, ut in Aulularia (668) ‘ea sublevit os mihi penisssime’ et in Mostellaria (656) (63) ‘quid faciam? in latebras condas pectori penitissimo’ et in Curculione (121) ‘salve oculissime homo’. sed num oculissime βραχέως legendum?

30 31

32

33

seems to have been unaware that comparatives were both adjectival and relational words, as he would have deduced had he read chapter 7 of Aristotle’s Categoriae, with which apparently he was not familiar: see S. Ebbesen, Priscian and the Philosophers, in: M. Baratin – B. Colombat – L. Holtz, Priscien. Transmission et refondation de la grammaire. De l’Antiquité aux Modernes, Turnhout 2009, 85–107, especially 95. Prisc. gramm. 2.60.14–15 … egent adiectione aliorum nominum, quomodo communia adiec­ tiva. It is true that this is seen as a consequence of their semantic incompleteness, as I have tried to show elsewhere (Uría, Proper epithets, 109). Prisc. gramm. 2.101.3–14 diminutivum est, quod diminutionem primitivi sui absolute demon­ strat, ‘rex regulus’, id est ‘parvus rex’. ideo autem positum est absolute, quia comparativa quoque non solum augent, sed etiam est quando minuunt vim primitivorum, sed non absolute. ad aliquid enim [omnimodo] fit comparatio, ut ‘brevior’ dicitur ad brevem [et] ‘angustior’ ad angustum. unde, quamvis in his quoque [comparativis] inveniantur quaedam diminutiva apud Latinos, ut superius docuimus, non possunt tamen esse absoluta, cum a comparativis sint deri­ vata et ipsa quoque comparationem significent, ut ‘plusculus’, ‘maiusculus’, ‘minusculus’: necesse est enim, ad aliquid ea comparari, ut Terentius in eunucho ‘Thais quam ego sum ma­ iuscula est’, id est, ‘parvo maior quam ego’. This departure from the doctrine in Apollonius may be due to the above–mentioned (see note 29) lack of familiarity with the Aristotelian doctrine (Ebbesen, Priscian and the Philosophers, 107). In fact, I think that Ebbesen is absolutely right in assuming that Priscian was not fully aware of the relational nature of comparatives, so that it is not even necessary to accept that he finally acknowledges that nature in 2.101.3–14 (see preceding note): in that passage absolute seems to imply absence of comparison (as is made clear by the parallel text in Dionysius Thrax, who uses ἀσυγκρίτως; see also above on Char. gramm. 196.22–25), and ad aliquid seems to be used in a non–technical way (it may be considered as an alternative phrase to ad alias per­ sonas in 3.141.14; see note 28 above). The fact that Priscian gives examples of explicit comparisons (maior quam, maiuscula quam) supports this view. Let me note that collativa is the reading in the Excerpta Cauchii (and it was also proposed by Nettleship) for the main manuscript’s reading collatia (see Barwick’s edition and ThLL III 1580.25). Keil preferred conlata.

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In what sense are these adverbs more comparative than, e.g., doctius doctissime? In the sense that these comparative forms are derived directly from an adverb which is not itself derived34 (ex prototypo, we could say) and not from the comparative of an adjectival noun (or from an adverb which is itself derived from an adjectival noun). To judge from the examples in Charisius, it is also likely that those adverbs were labelled as collativa because of their absolute use.35 Moreover, text [9] can be even better understood if some changes are accepted in the text, namely iis instead of in his and perfectis instead of perfectis:36 iis extra consuetudinem communem frequenter perfectis uti solet Plautus “these forms are often used by Plautus, beyond common use, instead of the perfect ones”. This provides a further example of perfectus37 in the sense of absolutus, positivus, an utterance that does not seem to have an exact parallel within Greek tradition, even if a word of similar meaning as it is αὐτοτελής is found in a passage from Apollonius (referring to intransitive verbs) which Priscian translates by using both perfectum and absolutum:38 this need for the two adjectives to render the Greek word may mean that using one of them might not be enough: perfectus would probably have been ambiguous if referring to a verb, and absolutus would have implied the idea of syntactic autonomy, but not that of semantic self-sufficiency. In conclusion, I have tried to present an example of the underlying complexity39 in the Roman’s assimilation of Greek grammatical doctrine and terminology. 34 35

36 37 38

39

Note that Char. gramm. 149.10–12 qualifies the adverb temere as a proprium adverbium, arguing that it does not originate from another word: neque enim ex appellatione neque ex verbo venit. I mean that they were seen as adverbs with a characteristic comparative/superlative suffix. In the light of this, one might explain why Priscian (Prisc. gramm. 3.88.4 superlativa [scil. adver­ bia] ‘maxime, minime, ocissime’) included ocissime together with maxime and minime among the so–called superlative adverbs. The three of them fall under the label superlativa, but for different reasons: maxime and minime, because they are used to form superlative phases (just as magis and minus are adverbia comparativa because they form comparative phrases); ocis­ sime, because it is an adverb with a typically superlative suffix. A different (tentative) suggestion is put forward in M. Baratin – A. Garcea (eds.), Autour du ‘de adverbio’ de Priscien, in: Histoire Épistémologie Langage 27.2, 2005, 82 n. 60: “La présence de ocissime dans cette liste est énigmatique. Le groupement avec maxime et minime fait penser a une perte du sème “rapidité”, mais aucun exemple attesté de ce terme ne permet de confirmer cette hypothèse”. Regarding these textual changes see J. Uría – R. Gutiérrez, Vague boundaries: delimiting grammatical fragments in Charisius, in: Eruditio Antiqua 3, 2011, 57–72, esp. 64 f. To be added to those in Mazhuga, Die Begriffe, 187; cf. ThLL X 1.1378.27–34. Also, Schad (Lexicon, 296–297) should then be corrected, since there would be no need for meaning 1.iv), the use being perfectly classified by meaning 2.i). This is the case in A. D. Synt. 161.4–6 οὐ γὰρ ἅπαντα τὰ ῥήματα πλαγίους ἀπαιτεῖ ὀνομάτων ἢ ἀντωνυμιῶν, ἐπεὶ ἃ μὲν αὐτῶν αὐτοτελῆ ἐστιν, ἃ δὲ ἐλλειπῆ, to be compared with Prisc. gramm. 3.154.25–28 non enim omnia verba obliquos desiderant casus nominum vel pronominum, quomodo omnes obliqui casus verba desiderant, quoniam quaedam ex his per­ fecta sunt et absoluta, quaedam defectiva. It must be stressed, with Lallot (Apollonius Dyscole II, 8), that αὐτοτελής is inherited from Aristotelian logic, but among the Stoics it is contrasted to ἐλλιπής and becomes an “épithète privilégiée de logos” (as it is perfecta in respect to oratio in Priscian). The phrase “complexité fascinante” is used to refer to the “rencontre entre bilinguisme, ou

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We have seen how terms with very different meanings, origins and histories finally came together in the hands of Latin grammarians, who were mostly unaware of the precise meaning of the words they had inherited from their predecessors. Only from this viewpoint can we understand why a chiefly semantic term such as ἀπολελυμένον-absolutum became in some later grammar books a synonym of a predominantly morphological term (πρωτότυπον); in between, the rich tradition of Latin grammar provides traces of a former coherent use of the two terms. From a more optimistic point of view, Latin grammarians must be credited with the achievement of adapting a terminology which had been created for very different purposes to their own purposes: just as we have mainly adapted their descriptive terminological apparatus to our scientific approach to language, they took over the terminology of Aristotle’s Categories, the Stoic logic concepts and the metalanguage of Alexandrian philology40 with the main aim of constructing grammar handbooks for school. BIBLIOGRAPHY Baratin M. – Garcea A. (eds.), Autour du ‘de adverbio’ de Priscien, in: Histoire Épistémologie Langage 27.2, 2005 Barwick K., Flavii Sosipatri Charisii Artis Grammaticae Libri V, ed. corr. F. Kühnert, Leipzig 1964 Basset L., La dérivation adjectivale dans la terminologie grammaticale gréco-latine, in: L. Basset et al., Bilinguisme et terminologie grammaticale gréco-latine, Leuven–Paris–Duley, MA 2007, 57–69 Bécares Botas V., Diccionario de terminología gramatical griega, Salamanca 1985 Biville F. et al., Priscien. Grammaire, livre xvii – Syntaxe, 1, Paris 2010 Blank D., Varro and the epistemological status of etimology, in: Histoire Épistémologie Langage 30, 2008, 49–73 Bonnet G., Dosithée. Grammaire latine, Paris 2005 Bonnet G., Glose ou traduction? La version grecque de l’‘Ars grammatica’ de Dosithée, in: L. Basset et al., Bilinguisme et terminologie grammaticale gréco-latine, Leuven–Paris–Duley, MA 2007, 191–199 De Nonno M., La grammatica dell’‘Anonymus Bobiensis’ (GL I 533–565 Keil). Con un’appendice carisiana, Roma 1982 Ebbesen S., Priscian and the Philosophers, in: M. Baratin – B. Colombat – L. Holtz, Priscien. Transmission et refondation de la grammaire. De l’Antiquité aux Modernes, Turnhout 2009, 85–107 Gutiérrez M. A. (dir.), Diccionario Electrónico Concordado de Términos Gramaticales y Retóricos Latinos (DECOTGREL, Pmin.), San Millán de la Cogolla 2013 Iso J. J., Derivación y composición: su posición en el ‘De lingua Latina’ de Varrón, in: Voces 8–9, 1997–98, 57–73 Keil H., Grammatici Latini, 8 vols., Leipzig 1857–1880 Lallot J., Apollonius Dyscole. De la construction (Perì syntáxeos), 2 vols., Paris 1997 Lallot J., La grammaire de Denys Le Thrace, Paris 1989

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multilinguisme, et terminologie grammaticale” in P. Swiggers – A. Wouters, Transferts, contacts, symbiose: L’élaboration de terminologies grammaticales en contact bi/plurilingue, in: Bilinguisme et terminologie grammaticale gréco-latine, Leuven–Paris–Duley, MA 2007, 19– 36, esp. 33. Actually these are the three stages described by Swiggers, Histoire de la pensée linguistique, 20–31.

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Matthaios S., Untersuchungen zur Grammatik Aristarchs: Texte und Interpretatione zur Wortartenlehre, Göttingen 1999 Mazhuga V. I,, Die Begriffe absolutus und absolutivus in der römischen Grammatik (1. bis 5. Jh. N. Chr.), in: Th. Fögen, Antike Fachtexte – Ancient Technical Texts, Berlin–New York 2005, 171–189 Schad S., A Lexicon of Latin Grammatical Terminology, Pisa–Roma 2007 Schmidt P. L., Grammaire et rhétorique, in: R. Herzog–P. L. Schmidt (eds.), Nouvelle histoire de la littérature latine. 5. Restauration et renouveau 284–374, Turnhout 1993 (French edition by Gérard Nauroy [dir.]), 113–181 Schneider, R. – Uhlig, G., Apollonii Dyscoli quae supersunt, 2 vols., Leipzig 1878–1910 Swiggers P., Histoire de la pensée linguistique. Analyse du langage et réflexion linguistique dans la culture occidentale, de l’Antiquité au xixe siècle, Paris 1997 Swiggers P. – Wouters A., The treatment of relational nouns in ancient grammar, in: Orbis 38, 1995, 149–178 Swiggers P. – Wouters A., Transferts, contacts, symbiose: L’élaboration de terminologies grammaticales en contact bi/plurilingue, in: Bilinguisme et terminologie grammaticale gréco-latine, Leuven–Paris–Duley, MA 2007, 19–36 Suárez Martínez P. M., El sistema de la gradación en latín: noción básica, estructura y usos, in: Emerita 64, 1996, 45–58 Uhlig G., Dionysii Thracis Ars grammatica, Leipzig 1883 Uría J., Latin Grammarians echoing the Greeks: The doctrine on ‘proper epithets’ and the Adjective, in: Philologus 154, 2010, 97–118 Uría J. – Gutiérrez R., Vague boundaries: delimiting grammatical fragments in Charisius, in: Eruditio Antiqua 3, 2011, 57–72 Wouters A., The Grammatical Term ἀπολελυμένον in the School Book Brit.Mus. Add.MS. 37533 (= Pack2 2712), in: Chronique d’Égypte 68, 1993, 168–177

14 UN CASO DISCUSSO DI GRECISMO: ALCUNE CONSIDERAZIONI SULLA COSIDDETTA “PARA-IPOTASSI” LATINA Giovanbattista Galdi Abstract This paper deals with the phenomenon often referred to as “para-hypotaxis”, that is, with the cases in which an adverbial phrase is linked to the matrix clause by means of a copulative conjunction that “breaks” the hypotactic nexus, e.g. Gel. 2.29.8 haec ubi ille dixit et discessit. Specifically, we shall focus on the theory put forward by Pasquali and Wehr, according to which the certain instances of this construction are due to a Greek influence. After a short introduction on the use and distribution of apodotic καί in Greek, we will discuss the pre-Christian Latin passages that have been (or should be) interpreted as a Greek calque. 14.1 INTRODUZIONE Il presente contributo è rivolto alla discussione di quei passi in cui una congiunzione coordinativa (solitamente et) è inserita a inizio di apodosi dopo subordinata o frase participiale, generando una (talora apparente) rottura del nesso sintattico, es. Petr. 47. 6 credite mihi, anathymiasis si in cerebrum it, et in toto corpore fluctum facit. Si tratta di un fenomeno noto, spesso citato dagli studiosi col nome di “paraipotassi”,1 la cui analisi è stata largamente trascurata in questi ultimi quarant’ anni, soprattutto per ciò che riguarda le sue prime attestazioni. In omaggio alla personalità e al contributo scientifico di Ioannis Taifakos, utriusque linguae culturaeque peritissimus, concentreremo la nostra attenzione su quegli esempi in cui è ipotizzabile un influsso del greco. L’esposizione è suddivisa in cinque parti: dopo un breve accenno allo status quaestionis, si prenderà in esame l’ipotesi del grecismo avanzata dal Pasquali e, in modo più sistematico, dalla Wehr; si discuterà poi l’impiego del καί apodotico in greco antico e si procederà infine a una disamina degli esempi latini attribuiti o attribuibili a un grecismo. I risultati principali saranno riassunti nella sezione conclusiva.

1

Il termine fu coniato da L. Sorrento nel suo celebre articolo: Il fenomeno di para-ipotassi nelle lingue neolatine. Due note, in: RIL 62, 1929, 449–463, 481–496.

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14.2 STATUS QUAESTIONIS L’uso in latino di una congiunzione copulativa in posizione apodotica ha attratto l’attenzione di vari filologi e linguisti, soprattutto nella prima metà del secolo scorso. Nonostante diverse ipotesi siano state avanzate nella discussione generale del fenomeno o in riferimento a singoli esempi,2 soltanto due studi ne hanno investigato in modo sistematico l’origine e la diffusione, estendendo l’analisi anche agli idiomi romanzi. Il primo, ad opera del Sorrento, si basa su una tesi per così dire di tipo unitario:3 tutti gli esempi – indipendentemente dal tipo di congiunzione (atque, et, ­que) e dall’autore o genere letterario – hanno la stessa causa, ovvero una contaminazione psicologica tra il costrutto ipotattico e quello paratattico.4 Si tratterebbe di una forma di anacoluto scaturito da un’ingerenza, per così dire, della formulazione paratattica, ritenuta caratteristica del parlato, su quella ipotattica, giudicata invece propria dello stile letterario o comunque più “controllato”. Di conseguenza, la “para-ipotassi” è un fenomeno comune a lingue diverse5 e “si manifesta soprattutto […] in epoche linguistiche in cui son più vivi i contatti interdipendenti tra la lingua popolare e la letteraria, per es. nel latino arcaico e nel latino tardo”.6 In ogni singolo esempio lo scrittore sarebbe dunque – in linea di massima inconsciamente – “scivolato” dalla ipotassi alla paratassi.7 Tale ipotesi è tuttavia fortemente indebolita da: (a) l’elevato numero di attestazioni (vedi sotto); (b) la breve distanza che per lo più intercorre tra le due frasi (es. Gel. 2.29.8 haec ubi ille dixit et disces­ sit); (c) l’emergenza del fenomeno quasi esclusivamente in testi letterari (è improbabile che un Virgilio o un Quintiliano abbiano “perso” il controllo sintattico della frase). Più convincente appare lo studio della Wehr che, come il Pasquali, considera le attestazioni del costrutto in latino e in romanzo.8 Ella tende a distinguere da un 2

3 4

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6 7 8

Per uno sguardo bibliografico d’insieme, con un breve riassunto delle varie esegesi, si vedano le introduzioni di A. Dell’Era, Appunti sulla paraipotassi latina, in: Omaggio a Eduard Fraenkel per i suoi ottant’anni: contributi di allievi dei suoi seminari di Pisa, Bari e Roma, Roma, 1968, 38–43 e B. Wehr, Diskurs-Strategien im Romanischen, Tübingen 1984, 154–159. Cf. L. Sorrento, Il fenomeno, e Sintassi romanza. Ricerche e prospettive (2a ed.), Varese 1951, 27–91. Un’interpretazione simile si trova già in E. Löfstedt, Philologischer Kommentar zur Peregrinatio Aetheriae. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der lateinischen Sprache, Uppsala 1911, 201s. Dopo lo studio del Sorrento, essa è ripresa e avvalorata dal Pighi e dal Dell’Era. Si veda G. Pighi, Recensione di Giorgio Pasquali, “Le origini greche della para-ipotassi romanza”, in: Aevum 3, 1929, 547–560 e A. Dell’Era, Appunti. In particolare il Pighi, Recensione, 554–560 discute la presenza del costrutto in latino, greco (antico e moderno) ed ebraico. L’ipotesi della poligenesi è invece rifiutata dalla Wehr, Diskurs-Strategien, 180: “Die Vertreter der Polygenese verkennen, daß sie das Problem der historischen Erklärung nicht eliminieren, sondern vervielfachen, da damit für jede Einzelsprache eine eigene Erklärung gesucht werden müßte”. Sorrento, Sintassi romanza, 56. Cf. Sorrento, Sintassi romanza, 57: “Lo scrittore […] è mosso verso l’ipotassi, ma poi la paratassi prende istintivamente quasi il sopravvento su di lui”. Cf. Wehr, Diskurs-Strategien, 152–181, e Spätlatein aus der Sicht der Romanistik: zu apodosis-einleitendem et, in: R. Wright (ed.), Latin vulgaire latin tardif VIII. Actes du VIIIe colloque international sur le latin vulgaire et tardif. Oxford, 6–9. Septembre, 2008, 179–190.

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lato tra gli usi di atque e et (il primo è per lo più limitato all’epoca arcaica), dall’altro tra gli esempi più antichi e quelli cristiani, dal II secolo in avanti. La Wehr ha buon gioco nel dimostrare che nella maggior parte dei passi cristiani l’uso di et non è dovuto ad anacoluto, ma pare adottato intenzionalmente dall’autore per richiamare l’attenzione del lettore / ascoltatore su una determinata sezione di testo. Si tratterebbe dunque di una precisa scelta sintattico-espressiva con funzione focalizzatrice che figura in tre tipi di contesto: (a) miracolo o evento inatteso; (b) entrata in scena di nuovo protagonista; (c) verba dicendi seguiti da discorso diretto. A detta della Wehr, come vedremo fra breve, l’origine della costruzione sarebbe da ricercare in un calco sintattico dal greco. 14.3 L’IPOTESI DEL GRECISMO Al di là di menzioni sporadiche del Brenous e del Baehrens,9 l’ipotesi del grecismo è sostenuta e sviluppata per la prima volta in un breve articolo del Pasquali10 nato come risposta critica all’ipotesi “para-ipotattica” del Sorrento. Il Pasquali inserisce la sua analisi nella teoria di più ampia portata secondo cui l’intera storia di Roma e del suo impero “è per buona parte una storia della penetrazione degli Orientali, attraverso la emancipazione e la milizia, nei gradi più alti dell’amministrazione romana” (Le origini greche, 119). Egli osserva che in greco l’uso apodotico di καί e soprattutto δέ è diffusamente attestato da Omero in poi. Esso sarebbe poi passato nel latino di età imperiale e di qui alle lingue romanze, dove se ne hanno numerosi esempi. Non si può dunque parlare di poligenesi del fenomeno, ma di uno sviluppo, o meglio di un’estensione lineare che avrebbe le sue radici nel greco. Nonostante la sua indubbia originalità (per la prima volta si pone in rapporto il greco col romanzo), il contributo del Pasquali rimane per diversi aspetti incompiuto. Il suo limite principale sta nella scarsa attenzione rivolta agli esempi di età precristiana: dei circa venti passi riportati dal Sorrento, egli ne ritiene sei, di cui però cinque con atque e solo uno (con et) interpretato come grecismo – vd. (6) sotto –; la maggior parte dei rimanenti viene attribuita, con forse eccessiva leggerezza, a un’errata interpretazione del contesto sintattico.11 Metodologicamente dubbia appare inoltre la scelta di porre sullo stesso piano gli usi di καί e di δέ, dato che quest’ultimo, come riconosciuto dal Pasquali, è di uso molto più comune mentre in latino il fenomeno è per lo più limitato a congiunzioni coordinative (quasi esclusivamente et12). Infine, tenuto conto che il καί/δέ apodotico è diffusamente attestato in greco, da Omero in avanti, il Pasquali avrebbe dovuto chiarire perché esso si sia esteso in latino solo in 9 10 11 12

Vd. J. Brenous, Étude sur les hellénismes dans la syntaxe latine, Paris 1895, 435 e W. A. Baehrens, Beiträge zur lateinischen Syntax, in: Philologus, Supplementband XII (zweites Heft), 1912, 426. G. Pasquali, Le origini greche della para-ipotassi romanza, in: A&R 19 (n.s.), 1929, 116–119. Quest’aspetto è ben messo in luce negli studi del Pighi, Recensione, e del Dell’Era, Appunti. I casi certi di atque apodotico in età precristriana si limitano a cinque passi di Plauto – vd. (1)(5) sotto –, un esempio delle Georgiche (1.199–203) e un’attestazione in Gellio – vd. (10). Non si hanno invece esempi di -que in questa funzione.

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epoca cristiana e non abbia lasciato alcuna traccia in autori d’età anteriore, se si fa eccezione per un esempio dubbio in Petronio – vedi sotto (6). Dopo lo studio del Pasquali, l’ipotesi di un calco del greco fu acremente combattuta dal Pighi e, anni dopo, dal Dell’Era. Il primo, chiamato direttamente in causa dal Pasquali quale “ricollazionatore” del Sorrento, sostiene con decisione la teoria di una poligenesi del fenomeno che si paleserebbe indipendentemente in età e in lingue diverse (anche non indoeuropee). Il secondo, riallacciandosi alla polemica tra il Sorrento e il Pasquali, ripercorre tutti gli esempi precristiani (reali o presunti) di atque/et in posizione apodotica, difendendo sistematicamente la lettura “para-ipotattica” e escludendo categoricamente un calco di καί.13 L’ipotesi del grecismo fu così generalmente abbandonata, soprattutto tra i filologi classici.14 Una felice eccezione è costituita dal succitato studio della Wehr (Diskurs-Strategien), secondo cui uno degli elementi principali che avrebbe contribuito all’estensione dell’et apodotico in autori cristiani (cf. sopra) sarebbe da ricercare nel suo impiego diffuso accanto a ecce dopo subordinata o frase participiale (es. Itin. Anton. Plac. rec. A 37 inde mouentes ut ascenderemus Sinna, et ecce multitudo monachorum obuiauerunt nobis). Quest’uso, a sua volta, si sarebbe originato nella Vetus Latina come calco del greco καὶ ἰδού spesso attestato nei Settanta con la stessa funzione. Partendo da et ecce, ecce avrebbe “contagiato” la semantica di et e quest’ultimo sarebbe cominciato ad apparire con la stessa funzione anche in passi in cui non era accompagnato da et. Tale teoria ha il merito di rendere conto, in modo convincente, del perché della notevole diffusione del costrutto in testi cristiani (la Wehr ne conta circa 40 esempi, l’Eklund più di 80!15). Pur ammettendo, col Sorrento, che il fenomeno scaturisca in alcuni casi (soprattutto in autori tardi) da anacoluto, la sua grande frequenza nella letteratura cristiana va imputata a una scelta intenzionale dello scrittore. La Wehr si concentra nella sua analisi sulle attestazioni di età imperiale, rivolgendo, come il Pasquali, scarsa attenzione a quelle precristiane: ella riduce a poche istanze i numerosi esempi raccolti dal Dell’Era (non si trova menzione, ad esempio, dei passi in poesia) raggruppandoli sotto l’etichetta generica di grecismo, senza tuttavia soffermarsi sulla loro discussione. Alla luce dei punti deboli e degli interrogativi suscitati dai contributi del Pasquali e della Wehr, ci pare necessaria una – seppur parziale – revisione del problema in cui si definisca la portata diacronica e “stilistica” del fenomeno in autori e testi greci e, alla luce di ciò, si cerchi di stabilire quali degli esempi latini precristiani possano considerarsi influenzati dal greco, e in che misura. 13

14 15

Una posizione meno rigida si coglie in Sorrento, Sintassi romanza, 78, che ritornando, ad anni di distanza, sul suo precedente contributo e sulla diatriba tra il Pasquali e il Pighi, non esclude che il greco possa aver contribuito alla diffusione del fenomeno in latino e, di riflesso, in romanzo: “Non ho nulla in contrario ad ammettere anche un certo influsso che può essere venuto alle lingue romanze, e in particolare all’italiana, dal greco”. Egli tuttavia ribadisce che non si può parlare “di esclusiva origine greca della paraipotassi” (ibidem). Cf. Dell’Era, Appunti, 40: “Dopo il Pasquali l’ipotesi di derivazione dal greco è stata definitivamente abbandonata”. Cf. S. Eklund, The periphrastic, completive and finite use of the present participle in Latin (with special regard to translations of Christian texts in Greek up to 600 A.D.), Uppsala 1970, 180.

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14.4 USI APODOTICI DI ΚΑΙ IN GRECO La raccolta più completa degli usi di καί in apodosi, dalle origini della letteratura sino al IV secolo a.C., si trova nella nota monografia di Denniston sulle particelle greche.16 Egli menziona non meno di 25 esempi sicuri, da Omero a Platone, insieme ad altri 11 più incerti e passibili anche di altre interpretazioni. L’impressione generale che si ricava dai dati del Denniston è che il costrutto sia caratteristico – per quanto non esclusivo – dei registri più elevati:17 se ne hanno nove esempi in Omero, cinque in poesia lirica (di cui uno in un passo di Erodoto su cui si tornerà sotto) e due incerti in tragedia. In commedia risultano sei attestazioni sicure, tutte nella forma κᾆτα, κἄπειτα, ed è significativo che in almeno tre di esse – tutte in Aristofane – si nota un innalzamento di registro, che in Lys. 560 produce un voluto contrasto stilistico con la situazione rappresentata: καὶ μὴν τό γε πρᾶγμα γέλοιον / ὅταν ἀσπίδ᾽ ἔχων καὶ Γοργόνα τις κᾆτ᾽ ὠνῆται κορακίνους.18 Questi dati, uniti all’assenza quasi totale di attestazioni in prosa (se ne hanno due soli esempi in Platone e Senofonte)19 rendono plausibile l’ipotesi che il fenomeno derivi da uno stadio linguistico più antico e sia sopravvissuto in letteratura come arcaismo sintattico.20 Alla luce della notorietà e della rilevanza dei testi in cui καί apodotico ricorre, è molto probabile che la maggior parte, se non la totalità, degli esempi fosse nota agli scrittori romani d’epoca classica o di prima età imperiale. Inoltre, data la sua prevalenza nella poesia epica e lirica, è plausibile che esso fosse da loro associato a generi letterari più elevati. Quest’aspetto, come vedremo, è di cruciale importanza per valutare l’ipotesi del grecismo nei brani latini. Maggior incertezza domina relativamente al periodo post-classico e della κοινή. In questa fase, infatti, l’uso della costruzione è limitato ai papiri tolemaici, nei quali peraltro esso ricorre unicamente dopo frase participiale.21 Numerosi casi (dopo subordinata esplicita o participio) si rinvengono successivamente nei Settanta, ma essi sono accompagnati quasi sistematicamente da ἰδού e, cosa più importante, parrebbero influenzati in larga misura dall’ebraico ṷehinnē.22 Allo stato attuale della ricerca, dunque, non disponiamo di prove sufficienti per ipotizzare un uso ininterrotto del καί apodotico da Omero alla versione dei Settanta, ed è preferibile operare una suddivisione tra gli esempi più antichi, imputabili ad arcaismo, e quelli di età cristiana, condizionati dall’ebraico.23 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Vd. J. D. Denniston, The Greek particles, Oxford 1959, 308–309. Cf. Denniston, The Greek particles, 308: “Most of the true examples are from Homer and lyric”. Più serio è il tono in Eq. 392 ἀλλ᾽ ὅμως οὗτος τοιοῦτος ὢν ἅπαντα τὸν βίον, κᾆτ᾽ ἀνὴρ ἔδοξεν εἶναι, τἀλλότριον ἀμῶν θέρος e in Nu. 624 (pronunciato dal coro) λαχὼν Ὑπέρβολος τῆτες ἱερομνημονεῖν, κἄπειθ᾽ ὑφ᾽ ἡμῶν τῶν θεῶν τὸν στέφανον ἀφῃρέθη. Denniston, The Greek particles, 309. Vd. Wehr, Diskurs-Strategien, 179. Cf. E. Mayser, Grammatik der griechischen Papyri aus der Ptolomäerzeit (2. Band, 1. Teil), Berlin-Leipzig 1926, 343. Cf. al riguardo la discussione di Wehr, Diskurs-Strategien, 148ss. Su questo punto si veda anche Wehr, Diskurs-Strategien, 179 (n. 284): “Es fehlt […] weitge-

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14.5 USI APODOTICI DI ATQUE/ET NEL LATINO PRECRISTIANO Come detto sopra, uno dei punti deboli degli studi del Pasquali e della Wehr sta nel poco spazio riservato alla discussione degli esempi di atque/et apodotico in testi anteriori all’età cristiana. Il Pasquali considera genuini solo cinque casi di atque in Plauto – (1)-(5) sotto – e un esempio di et in Petronio – vd. (6) –, mentre la Wehr interpreta come grecismo la maggior parte delle attestazioni,24 senza tuttavia addentrarsi nella loro analisi. A nostro giudizio, entrambi gli studiosi suggeriscono l’ipotesi di grecismo per passi in cui essa non è necessaria, escludendola invece (o comunque non considerandola) in altri casi in cui appare plausibile. Riportiamo di seguito gli esempi da loro citati (in tutti i casi la congiunzione apodotica segue una subordinata temporale): (1) Pl. Epid. 217s quom ad portam uenio, atque ego illam illi uideo praestolarier / et cum ea tibicinae ibant quattuor. (2) Pl. Poen. 649ss nescimus nos quidem istum qui siet; / nisi dudum mane ut ad portum processimus, / atque istum e naui exeuntem oneraria uidemus. (3) Pl. Bac. 278ss postquam aurum abstulimus, in nauem conscendimus, / domi cupientes. forte ut adsedi in stega, / dum circumspecto, atque ego lembum con­ spicor / longum, strigorem maleficum exornarier. (4) Pl. Mer. 255ss ad portum hinc abii mane cum luci simul; / postquam id quod uolui transegi, atque ego conspicor / nauem ex Rhodo quast heri aduectus fi­ lius. (5) Pl. Mos. 1048ss postquam ex opsidione in tutum eduxi maniplares meos, / ca­ pio consilium, ut senatum congerronum conuocem. / quoniam conuocaui, atque illi me ex senatu segregant. (6) Petr. 38. 8 sed quomodo dicunt – ego nihil scio, sed audiui – quom Incuboni pilleum rapuisset, et thesaurum inuenit. (7) Apul. Met. 7. 26. 4 interim dum puerum illum parentes sui plangoribus fletibus­ que querebantur, et adueniens ecce rusticus nequaquam promissum suum frust­ ratus destinatam sectionem meam flagitat. (8) Gel. 2. 29. 8 haec ubi ille dixit et discessit. In (1)-(5) la Wehr (Diskurs-Strategien, 151–153) ravvisa in atque un valore enfatico-focalizzatore, analogo a quello che assumerà et apodotico nel latino cristiano. Si constata, infatti, che: (a) quattro dei cinque esempi contengono un verbum videndi in apodosi (uideo, conspicor); (b) il verbo principale è un presente storico; (c) in quattro casi figura in funzione di soggetto un pronome personale, il cui uso, come noto, tende a essere limitato a contesti di particolare espressività;25 (d) in quattro dei

24 25

hend an Belegen, die die Kontinuität des Gebrauchs von apodosis-einleitendem καί von Homer bis zum Neuen Testament erweisen”. Cf. Wehr, Diskurs-Strategien, 179: “Die lateinischen Belege für et in der Apodosis außerhalb des christlichen Lateins müßten m.E. auf griechischen Einfluß zurückgeführt werden (sofern et nicht auch von Haus aus adverbiellen Charakter besitzt, was unwahrscheinlich ist)”. L’uso del pronome personale colpisce soprattutto in (1), (3) e (4), dove il soggetto della princi-

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cinque passi atque introduce un evento inatteso. Ella conclude dunque: “[Es] erscheint […] legitim, atque in diesen Fällen die Funktion der besonderen Aufmerksamkeitslenkung (etwa: ecce, “siehe da!”) zuzuerkennen, die für Plautus [corsivo suo] neben der koordinierenden Funktion bestanden haben muß, sonst hätte er nicht diesen Gebrauch von ihr machen können”. Quest’ipotesi è in linea con le affermazioni di altri studiosi prima di lei che ravvisano in atque delle proprietà espressive distinte da et26 e trova parziale conferma in un noto passo di Gellio, in cui si fa riferimento a un valore temporale del lessema (= statim) noto solo a coloro che hanno dimestichezza con testi arcaici.27 Poche pagine più avanti, però, la Wehr ritorna sui passi plautini osservando: “Es liegt nahe, nun auch in dem apodosis-einleitenden atque bei Plautus […] einen Gräzismus zu vermuten” (Diskurs-Strategien, 180). Quest’ipotesi appare alquanto debole, anche perché si basa esclusivamente su un’asserzione generica del Löfstedt sull’influsso anche linguistico dei modelli greci in Plauto.28 Peraltro, non vi sono elementi del contesto che autorizzino a supporre un calco dal greco e, pur ammettendo quest’idea, non si spiega perché il fenomeno in Plauto sia limitato ad atque (più in generale, i primi esempi sicuri di et apodotico risalgono alla seconda metà del I secolo a.C.). L’esempio (6) è uno dei passi più citati in riferimento all’et apodotico. Alcuni studiosi eliminano la congiunzione ipotizzando dittografia di (rapuisset et).29 Tuttavia, dovendoci basare su un unico testimone (H) è più prudente mantenere il testo tradito.30 Il Pasquali (Le origini greche, 118) nota: “Sarà caso che proprio l’esempio più antico [di et apodotico] è messo da Petronio (38, 8) in bocca a uno dei suoi personaggi volgari, che, volere o non volere, grecizzano?”. Quest’ipotesi, condivisa dalla Wehr (Diskurs-Strategien, 180), troverebbe supporto nel fatto che il latino di Hermeros (che qui parla) è caratterizzato da un alto numero di grecismi (per lo più lessicali, comunque) che rivele-

26

27 28 29 30

pale coincide con quello della subordinata antecedente. Löfstedt, ad esempio, osserva: “Zur Zeit des Plautus oder zur Zeit der Entstehung dieses Sprachgebrauchs hatte man offenbar noch das Gefühl, dass atque = ad­que, ‘und dabei’, war” (Philologischer Kommentar, 203), e Pasquali, riferendosi ai cinque esempi plautini, nota: “Qui c’è veramente un uso particolare di atque, cioè di una particella […] alla quale sin da principio erano riserbate funzioni che il sinonimo et non assume se non molto più tardi” (Le origini greche, 118). Si veda anche il celebre passo di Ennio ann. 537 atque atque accedit muros Romana iuuentus e la sua discussione in G. Dunkel, Ennian atque atque; prope, in: Glotta 58, 1980, 97–103. Vd. Gel. 10. 29. 1ss “atque” […] interdum alias quasdam potestates habet non satis notas, nisi in ueterum litterarum tractatione atque cura exercitis […] pro alio quoque aduerbio dicitur, id est “statim”. Vd. E. Löfstedt, Syntactica. Studien und Beiträge zur historischen Syntax des Lateins. Zweiter Teil: syntaktisch-stilistische Gesichtspunkte und Probleme, Lund 1956, 411. Più specificamente, il Löfstedt fa riferimento ai grecismi nel Rudens. Questa soluzione è adottata anche nel Thesaurus Linguae Latinae (V/2, 896, col. 56). Per riferimenti bibliografici vd. Dell’Era, Appunti, 39. Vd. anche G. Calboli, Latin syntax and Greek, in: Ph. Baldi, P. Cuzzolin (edd.), New Perspectives on Historical Latin Syntax (vol. 1), Berlin-New York 2009, 65–193, 166: “I accept et in Petronius’ text, because the only reason to exclude it is a grammatical argument, which is not an adequate reason”. Il Calboli contempla, con prudenza, la possibilità di un grecismo: “In my opinion, a Greek basis cannot be excluded” (ibidem).

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rebbero un’acquisizione incompleta della lingua.31 Ora, data la bassa estrazione sociale del personaggio – per cui non è ammissibile l’ipotesi di un arcaismo sintattico o di un’imitazione di Omero –, l’unica possibilità per accogliere l’idea del Pasquali è di supporre che il καί apodotico fosse d’uso comune nel greco parlato del I secolo d.C.: esso avrebbe fatto parte del registro espressivo di Hermeros e sarebbe stato da lui inavvertitamente trasposto in latino. Tuttavia, come notato sopra, le fonti a nostra disposizione non ci consentono di raggiungere alcun tipo di conclusione circa l’uso e l’eventuale diffusione della costruzione nel greco postclassico (gli unici esempi certi si rinvengono su papiri tolemaici dopo sintagma participiale) e l’ipotesi di una sua persistenza da Omero ai testi sacri è molto dubbia. In assenza di nuovi dati è pertanto preferibile pensare a soluzioni diverse per il passo petroniano.32 La più probabile è che et sia qui usato col valore avverbiale di etiam, atto a enfatizzare l’immediata successione delle due azioni rapuisset – inuenit: “Quando / l’attimo in cui strappò via il cappuccio a Incubone (vi) trovò anche un tesoro (nel senso: oltre a strappare via il cappuccio vi trovò anche un tesoro)”. In (7) la Wehr (Diskurs-Strategien, 180) basandosi su un’osservazione del Löfstedt relativa al ruolo del greco in Apuleio,33 ipotizza nuovamente un’influenza di καί. Più istruttivo risulta invece il confronto con un altro passo delle Metamorfosi: (9) Apul. Met. 5. 28 interim, dum Psyche quaesitioni Cupidinis intenta populos circumibat, at ille uulnere lucernae dolens in ipso thalamo matris iacens ingeme­ bat. Gli esempi (7) e (9) sono accomunati da tre caratteristiche sintattiche che non si rinvengono altrove in Apuleio: (a) la costruzione dum + imperfetto indicativo (tale congiunzione è solitamente seguita dal congiuntivo); (b) la sequenza interim dum (interim ricorre di norma isolatamente in Apuleio); (c) l’uso apparente di una congiunzione paratattica – et in (7), at (9) – in posizione apodotica. L’unico modo per giustificare tutte queste peculiarità è di supporre che in entrambi i passaggi dum non abbia funzione di subordinatore ma, insieme all’interim che precede, detenga valore avverbiale, analogo a interdum (“intanto”, “nel frattempo”).34 Accettando quest’esegesi, et e at non si troverebbero in posizione apodotica ma coordinereb31

32

33 34

Cf. B. Boyce, The language of the freedmen in Petronius’ Cena Trimalchionis, Leiden 1991, 92: “In the speech of Hermeros […] we are still left with a large number of others [sc. Greek words] which have perfectly good Latin equivalents, and which seem to indicate a special attempt by Petronius to represent the heavy Greek influence on the speech of Hermeros”. Vedi anche J. N. Adams, Bilingualism and the Latin language, Cambridge 2003, 21. Per lo stesso motivo non si possono considerare grecismi gli altri due passi di Petronio citati dal Dell’Era, Appunti, 55–57 (in entrambi i casi parla Trimalcione, anch’egli liberto di madre lingua greca): Petr. 47.6 credite mihi, anathymiasis si in cerebrum it, et in toto corpore fluctum facit, 59, 2 et tu cum esses capo, cocococo, atque cor non habebas. Vd. Löfstedt, Syntactica, 425 (in riferimento ad Apuleio): “Die griechische Färbung ist unverkennbar und sogar stark hervortretend”. Questa pare anche la soluzione adottata da R. Helm che nella sua edizione di Apuleio (Apulei Platonici Medaurensis Metamorphoseon libri XI (3. Aufl.), Leipzig 1931) stampa in entrambi i casi interimdum come parola unica. Vd. anche L. Callebat, Sermo Cotidianus dans les Métamorphoses d’Apulée, Caen 1968, 345: “Apulée a […] deux exemples de dum ainsi suivi d’un imparfait mais deux exemples où dum apparaît en corrélation avec et ou at et n’a donc pas une nette valeur subordonnante”.

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bero due frasi sintatticamente equipollenti. L’esempio (8), infine, tratto dal noto racconto dell’allodola che depone il suo nido in un campo di grano in procinto di essere falciato, è comunemente ricondotto a una satira perduta di Ennio. La Wehr, basandosi ancora una volta su un’asserzione del Löfstedt sull’influenza del greco in Ennio,35 ipotizza un calco di καί riconducibile al modello. In realtà, come sottolineato da Luzzatto, non vi sono motivi cogenti per affermare che la fonte principale di Gellio qui è Ennio:36 l’intera storia è presentata come la traduzione di una favola di Esopo (haec eius [Aesopi] fabula de auiculae nidulo) e solo alla fine si trova un riferimento a due versi tratti dalle satire di Ennio (hunc Aesopi apologum Q. Ennius in satiris … composuit). Di conseguenza, le caratteristiche linguistiche del testo vanno attribuite in prima istanza a Gellio. Per la costruzione in (8) vi sono due spiegazioni plausibili: (a) data l’origine esopiana della favola, Gellio ha adottato una costruzione greca (l’et apodotico, appunto) che, come visto sopra, era probabilmente associato a registri letterari più elevati e ben si adattava dunque al marcato stile arcaizzante dell’intero racconto;37 (b) come in (6) sopra, et va inteso con valore avverbiale (= etiam) e collega i due predicati dixit – discessit, sottolineando la rapidità della loro successione: “Nel momento in cui disse queste parole (smise di parlare) andò anche via”.38 Riassumendo, degli otto passi citati dalla Wehr, solo quello di Gellio (8) può eventualmente essere imputato a influsso del greco: contrariamente però a quanto da lei sostenuto, il costrutto andrebbe ricondotto all’autore stesso e non al suo modello letterario. Vorremmo concludere la nostra disanima discutendo tre attestazioni di atque/et in apodosi che sono state variamente interpretate dai filologi e in cui potrebbe effettivamente celarsi un calco di καί: (10) Gel. 17. 20. 4 haec uerba ubi lecta sunt, atque ibi Taurus mihi “heus” inquit “tu, rhetorisce” eqs. (11) Verg. A. 9. 47ss Turnus, ut ante uolans tardum praecesserat agmen / uiginti lectis equitum comitatus et urbi / improuisus adest, maculis quem Thracius albis / portat equus cristaque tegit galea aurea rubra, / ‘ecquis erit mecum, iuuenes, qui primus in hostem? / en,’ ait et iaculum attorquens emittit in au­ ras. (12) Verg. A. 9. 402s ocius adducto torquens hastile lacerto / suspiciens altam lunam et sic uoce precatur.

35 36 37 38

Löfstedt, Syntactica, 411 osserva che Ennio esibisce una serie di grecismi, in parte molto arditi. Cf. M. J. Luzzatto, Note su Aviano e sulle raccolte esopiche greco-latine, in: Prometheus 10, 1984, 75–94, 82. A supporto di tale esegesi si può notare che Gellio quasi certamente conosceva la costruzione del καί apodotico, che egli imita in un contesto diverso. Vd. sotto la discussione di (10). Un’ipotesi simile si trova nella dissertazione di R. Frobenius, Die Syntax des Ennius, Nördlingen 1910, 87, il quale tuttavia attribuisce l’intero passo a Ennio. Egli parla di “kumulative Bedeutung” di et (“da ging er “auch schon” davon”).

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L’esempio (10) è normalmente spiegato come un arcaismo di Gellio che ben conosceva gli usi plautini di atque e, in un altro passo, fa riferimento a un antico valore avverbiale-temporale della congiunzione (vd. sopra la nota 27). Sebbene questa ipotesi non sia da scartare, dato anche il noto gusto arcaizzante dell’autore, il confronto con (1)-(5) rivela che atque in Gellio è del tutto privo della valenza pragmatica individuata in Plauto, volta a richiamare l’attenzione del lettore / ascoltatore su una particolare sezione di testo. In (10) la congiunzione segnala semplicemente l’inizio di un nuovo discorso tenuto dalla stessa persona che ha parlato fino un attimo prima (haec uerba ubi lecta sunt, atque … inquit). Una soluzione alternativa è invece suggerita dall’analisi del contesto. Nel paragrafo in questione, l’autore ricorda una lezione pubblica del filosofo Tauro cui egli prese parte quando era ancora un giovane studente ad Atene. Dopo aver declamato un passo dal Simposio di Platone (Gellio cita a memoria l’originale greco), Tauro rivolge alcune parole a Gellio, da lui riportate in traduzione latina, eccezion fatta per un paio di termini greci (rhe­ torisce, ἐνθύμημα, ὁδοῦ πάρεργον). Il passo termina con la versione latina del brano di Platone ad opera di Gellio. Si può dunque ipotizzare che in tale contesto in cui quasi tutto è greco (il luogo, la lingua, il carattere principale e i riferimenti all’interno dei suoi discorsi) Gellio abbia intenzionalmente adottato, forse in segno 39 di stima, un espediente sintattico che egli considerava caratteristico del greco letterario e, più in particolare (come visto sopra), dei registri stilistici più elevati. Tale impressione è corroborata dal fatto che, a differenza di (1)-(5) in Plauto, atque è accompagnato da un avverbio temporale (ibi) che riprende il subordinatore antecedente (ubi … atque ibi). La stessa caratteristica si rinviene in greco: nella maggior parte degli esempi raccolti dal Denniston e dal Cooper il καί apodotico è immediatamente seguito da un avverbio temporale quale τότε, δή, ἔπειτα, etc. che riprende 40 la congiunzione subordinante, es. Hdt. 1. 55. 2 (oracolo esametrico) ἀλλ’ ὅταν ἡμίονος βασιλεὺς Μήδοισι γένηται, / καὶ τότε, Λυδὲ ποδαβρέ, πολυψήφιδα παρ’ Ἕρμον / φεύγειν μηδὲ μένειν. In (11) alcuni editori emendano comitatus et (v. 48) in comitantibus oppure ut (v. 47) in at, ma il testo è trasmesso unanimemente dai codici ed è anche citato in questa forma da Macrobio (sat. 1. 2. 7). Altri, tra cui il Pasquali, ritengono che la frase introdotta da ut si estenda sino a rubra (v. 50) e la proposizione principale cominci con ecquis erit … ait al verso 51s. Ma in questo modo avremmo un inusuale cambio di tempo all’interno della medesima subordinata: ut … praecesserat 39

40

Si noti che all’inizio del paragrafo l’autore loda espressamente le proprietà ritmiche e sintattiche del brano di Platone: uerba sumpta ex Symposio Platonis numeris coagmentisque uer­ borum scite modulateque apta … uerba illa Pausaniae inter conuiuas amorem uice sua laudan­ tis, ea uerba ita prorsum amauimus, ut meminisse etiam studuerimus. Riferendosi all’intero passo, S. M. Beall, Translation in Aulus Gellius, in: CQ n.s. 47, 1997.1, 215–226, 219, osserva: “The atmosphere of the chapter is one of courteous rivalry, not only between Gellius and Plato, but also between rhetoric and philosophy and between Latin and Greek. Emulation of this kind, in Gellius’ view, is the spice of liberal studies”. Cf. G. L. Cooper III, Greek Syntax (after K. W. Krüger) (vol. 4), Ann Arbor 2002, 3017: “Apodotic καί stands in some places in Epic and Lyric without a supporting adverb, but τότε, δή, or ἔτι a combination of these more usually support the καί. In comedy εἶτα or ἔπειτα support the καί and the protasis is participial”. Vd. anche Denniston, The Greek particles, 308–309.

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… et … adest.41 In (12) la maggior parte degli editori sostituisce torquens con tor­ quet (così Mynors) o emenda il verso seguente in diversi modi (suspicit en! altam lunam; suspicit altam lunam sic, etc.).42 Tuttavia, come nel caso di (11) i manoscritti non esibiscono varianti e i due versi sono citati come sopra da Nonio (p. 246M) e Prisciano (in G.L. 3. 104).43 Un’altra possibilità sintattica sarebbe l’ellissi di est dopo torquens o suspiciens, ma questo tipo di perifrasi non è attestata in Virgilio.44 Riassumendo, poiché il testo di (11) e (12) trova supporto nella tradizione diretta e indiretta, non vi è motivo di alterarlo e ogni tentativo di integrare et nella sintassi della frase si rivela vano. In entrambi i casi andrà piuttosto ipotizzato un uso non comune della congiunzione. Il Dell’Era (come già il Sorrento e il Pighi prima di lui) propende per la “para-ipotassi” che sarebbe qui adottata in virtù delle sue proprietà espressive.45 Infatti, in entrambi i passi il contesto è altamente drammatico: (11) si riferisce al primo assalto di Turno contro il campo troiano e la scena è per così dire “preparata” da una lunga sezione di testo (v. 25–46) che descrive la veloce avanzata dell’esercito di Turno attraverso i campi e la susseguente reazione dei Troiani; (12) introduce l’invocazione di Niso a Diana che a sua volta fa da preludio al suo disperato attacco contro i Latini: anche questa scena è preceduta da una breve introduzione (v. 394–401) in cui Niso vede il suo amico Eurialo trascinato via dai nemici e si domanda cosa fare (v. 399ss quid faciat? qua ui iuuenem, quibus audeat armis eripere? etc.). È lecito dunque ipotizzare in entrambi gli esempi la presenza di un anacoluto mirante a isolare un segmento testuale all’interno di una sequenza narrativa di grande pathos. Non si può però parlare, col Sorrento, di “paraipotassi”, intesa come “ricaduta” involontaria nella paratassi o come un sopravvento dello stile colloquiale su quello letterario. Ma anche l’ipotesi del Dell’Era (Appunti, 62) di adozione della “para-ipotassi” come “scelta stilistica di maggiore espressività” va scartata. Essa, infatti, presuppone che il costrutto, in latino, costituisca un codice espressivo consolidato o comunque riconoscibile dal lettore (una sorta di artificio retorico), laddove negli autori precedenti a Virgilio non se ne rinvengono esempi certi (tolto Plauto, in cui si ha un uso speciale di atque). Il costrutto 41

42

43 44 45

Su questo punto cf. Dell’Era, Appunti, 48. Anche l’ipotesi suggerita da J. Conington e H. Nettleship (P. Vergili Maronis opera. The works of Virgil, with a commentary by J. Conington and H. Nettleship (vol. 3), Oxford 1875, 157) di collegare comitatus a improuisus (comitatus et … improuisus) va scartata perché i due lessemi appartengono a categorie grammaticali differenti (non risultano in Virgilio casi di coordinazione di participio in funzione verbale e aggettivo) e sono separati da urbi, che è certamente legato ad adest. Per riferimenti bibliografici si veda Dell’Era, ibidem. Cf. Dell’Era, Appunti, 49. A supporto della prima ipotesi (torquet per torquens) si potrebbero citare tre paralleli dell’Eneide in cui la clausula et sic + verbum dicendi (seguito da discorso diretto) è preceduta da verbo finito: 1.614s obstipuit … et sic ore locuta est, 4.363s huc illuc uoluens oculos totumque pererrat … et sic accensa profatur, 6.185s haec … cum corde uolutat aspectans siluam … et sic forte precatur. L’ultimo esempio è particolarmente vicino a (11) per la corrispondenza quasi letterale della clausula (sic forte precatur – sic uoce precatur) e la sequenza verbo finito (ipotizzando torquet per torquens) – participio. Per una critica al commento di Prisciano (che ipotizza la postposizione in quarta sede di et), vd. Dell’Era, Appunti, 50s. Vd. J. B. Hofmann e A. Szantyr, Lateinische Syntax und Stilistik, München 1972, 388. Vd. Dell’Era, Appunti, 53.

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va dunque spiegato, a nostro giudizio, come un anacoluto che risponde, sì, a una precisa esigenza stilistica dell’autore, ma che ha le sue radici nel καί apodotico greco. L’intero nono libro dell’Eneide è infatti fortemente influenzato da Omero. Come noto, gli ultimi sei libri dell’opera sono unanimemente considerati l’Iliade virgiliana. Poiché però i libri sei e sette sono largamente ispirati da fonti non omeriche, il nono libro rappresenta “the first of the substantially Iliadic four last books of the Aeneid; its action is the central Iliadic action of the siege, as Turnus launches a full-scale assault on the Trojan fortifications”.46 Come si evince dalla puntuale introduzione del Hardie, ogni singolo episodio del libro è riconducibile a un preciso modello omerico (principalmente dell’Iliade).47 Non sorprende pertanto di incontrare proprio qui l’impiego ripetuto di un artificio sintattico stilisticamente marcato che trova in Omero la sua maggiore diffusione, sia dopo subordinata, come in (11), sia dopo frase participiale, come in (12). 14.6 CONCLUSIONI Dalla nostra analisi emergono tre considerazioni principali. In primo luogo, la frequenza di et/atque apodotico (soprattutto in età imperiale), la breve distanza che di norma separa la subordinata – o il participio – dalla principale e il ricorrere quasi unicamente in testi letterari ci portano – in linea con la Wehr – a rifiutare l’ipotesi del Sorrento secondo cui il costrutto rifletterebbe una “ricaduta” – per lo più inconsapevole – dalla formulazione ipotattica a quella paratattica. Pur non escludendo, in alcuni casi, la possibilità di una rottura involontaria del nesso sintattico, la maggior parte degli esempi cristiani pare rispondere a una precisa scelta dell’autore, le cui origini risalgono alle traduzioni dei testi sacri, in particolare alla Vetus Latina, secondo lo sviluppo (teorizzato dalla Wehr): ebr. ṷehinnē [“ed ecco”, “e vedi”] → καὶ ἰδού → et ecce → et. In secondo luogo, nell’uso del καί apodotico si distinguono due fasi: una prima, dagli inizi della letteratura al IV secolo a.C. circa, in cui il costrutto tende a essere limitato a registri stilistici più elevati, ciò che rende plausibile l’ipotesi di un arcaismo, e una seconda, dalla versione dei Settanta in poi, riconducibile probabilmente all’ebraico. Quanto al periodo intermedio, le uniche attestazioni certe si rinvengono dopo frase participiale su papiri tolemaici. Questi dati non ci consentono di postulare un uso ininterrotto del fenomeno da Omero all’età imperiale o una sua diffusione nel parlato (non, perlomeno, sino all’epoca cristiana). In terzo luogo, la quasi totalità degli esempi latini precristiani spiegati dalla Wehr come grecismo (in totale otto) è in realtà passibile di interpretazioni diverse, che rendono superflua l’ipotesi dell’anacoluto (uso particolare di atque, et = etiam, in­ terim dum = interdum). Gli unici casi probabili di anacoluto rimodellato sul greco si rinvengono in Gellio – un esempio di et apodotico forse improntato a Esopo e un altro di atque condizionato dal contesto – e prima di lui in Virgilio, come imitazione di Omero. In entrambi i casi siamo difronte a un grecismo dotto, ereditato per via 46 47

P. Hardie, Virgil: Aeneid, Book IX, Cambridge 1995, 2. Per dettagli vedi Hardie, Virgil, 9s.

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letteraria e difficilmente conciliabile con l’ipotesi di una popolarità del costrutto nel greco parlato. Concludendo, l’uso di et in apodosi non può ritenersi un fenomeno genuino del latino e tutti gli esempi noti sono spiegabili o come calco del greco (arcaismo / influsso dei testi sacri), o in base a una diversa lettura sintattica (che elimina l’anacoluto) o, infine, postulando un uso avverbiale del lessema (= etiam).48 BIBLIOGRAFIA Adams J. N., Bilingualism and the Latin language, Cambridge 2003 Baehrens W. A., Beiträge zur lateinischen Syntax, in: Philologus, Supplementband XII (zweites Heft), 1912 Beall S. M., Translation in Aulus Gellius, in: CQ n.s. 47, 1997.1, 215–226 Boyce B., The language of the freedmen in Petronius’ Cena Trimalchionis, Leiden 1991 Brenous J., Étude sur les hellénismes dans la syntaxe latine, Paris 1895 Calboli G., Latin syntax and Greek, in: Ph. Baldi, P. Cuzzolin (edd.), New Perspectives on Historical Latin Syntax (vol. 1), Berlin-New York 2009, 65–193 Callebat L., Sermo Cotidianus dans les Métamorphoses d’Apulée, Caen 1968 Conington J. – Nettleship H. (edd.), P. Vergili Maronis opera. The works of Virgil, with a commentary by J. Conington and H. Nettleship (vol. 3), Oxford 1875 Cooper III G. L., Greek Syntax (after K. W. Krüger) (vol. 4), Ann Arbor 2002 Dell’Era A., Appunti sulla paraipotassi latina, in: Omaggio a Eduard Fraenkel per i suoi ottant’anni: contributi di allievi dei suoi seminari di Pisa, Bari e Roma, Roma 1968, 38–69 Denniston J. D., The Greek particles, Oxford 1959 Dunkel G., Ennian atque atque; prope, in: Glotta 58, 1980, 97–103 Eklund S., The periphrastic, completive and finite use of the present participle in Latin (with special regard to translations of Christian texts in Greek up to 600 A.D.), Uppsala 1970 Frobenius R., Die Syntax des Ennius, Nördlingen 1910 Galdi G., Some considerations on the apodotic use of atque and et (2nd c. BC – 2nd c. AD), in: Journal of Latin Linguistics 13, 2014, 63–91 Hardie P., Virgil: Aeneid, Book IX, Cambridge 1995 Helm R. (ed.), Apulei Platonici Medaurensis Metamorphoseon libri XI (3. Aufl.), Leipzig 1931 Hofmann J. B. – Szantyr A., Lateinische Syntax und Stilistik, München 1972 Löfstedt E., Philologischer Kommentar zur Peregrinatio Aetheriae. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der lateinischen Sprache, Uppsala 1911 Löfstedt E., Syntactica. Studien und Beiträge zur historischen Syntax des Lateins. Zweiter Teil: syntaktisch-stilistische Gesichtspunkte und Probleme, Lund 1956 Luzzatto M. J., Note su Aviano e sulle raccolte esopiche greco-latine, in: Prometheus 10, 1984, 75– 94 Mayser E., Grammatik der griechischen Papyri aus der Ptolomäerzeit (2. Band, 1. Teil), Berlin-Leipzig 1926 Pasquali G., Le origini greche della para-ipotassi romanza, in: A&R 19 (n.s.), 1929, 116–119 Pighi G., Recensione di Giorgio Pasquali, “Le origini greche della para-ipotassi romanza”, in: Aevum 3, 1929, 547–560 48

Questa spiegazione si applica ovviamente anche agli esempi precristiani esclusi dalla presente trattazione, es. Curt. 4.15.22 qui auerso ei (Alexandro) instabant, et ab Agrianis equitibus pre­ mebantur, Quint. Inst. 6.3.60 “quamuis reus sum“, inquit, “et panem candidum edo” (in entrambi i passi è probabile l’ipotesi et = etiam). Per una discussione di tutti i passi rimandiamo al nostro articolo, in: Journal of Latin Linguistics 13, 2014, 63–91, Some considerations on the apodotic use of atque and et (2nd c. BC – 2nd c. AD).

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Sorrento L., Il fenomeno di para-ipotassi nelle lingue neolatine. Due note, in: RIL 62, 1929, 449– 463, 481–496 Sorrento L., Sintassi romanza. Ricerche e prospettive (2a ed.), Varese 1951 Wehr B., Diskurs-Strategien im Romanischen, Tübingen 1984 Wehr B., Spätlatein aus der Sicht der Romanistik: zu apodosis-einleitendem et, in: R. Wright (ed.), Latin vulgaire latin tardif VIII. Actes du VIIIe colloque international sur le latin vulgaire et tardif. Oxford, 6–9. Septembre, 2008, 179–190

15 RANDNOTIZEN ZU EINEM FUND GRIECHISCHER BUCHROLLEN (ARISTOTELES, ΑΘΗΝΑΙΩΝ ΠΟΛΙΤΕΙΑ, HERODAS, U.A.) Demokritos Kaltsas Abstract The contribution concerns the fields of literary papyrology and history of scholarship. It investigates some aspects of the purchase in Egypt in 1888/89 of a number of literary papyrus rolls of unusual importance: among them, Aristotle’s Constitution of Athens and Herodas’ Mimiambs. Subjects of the inquiry are, i.a., the exact number of the rolls concerned, the circumstances of their discovery and the place of their last use in antiquity. The testimony of the scholars involved in their purchase and publication is examined anew and hitherto neglected pieces of evidence drawn upon. „Tacent tacebuntque curatores Musei Britannici, apud quos est id volumen, unde et a quo acceperint; itaque nos ne simus curiosi.“ So schrieb Friedrich Blass, Hyperidis orationes sex cum ceterarum fragmentis (Teubner), Leipzig 31894, S. VIII, zu einer der Papyrusrollen, die uns einen Teil des Werkes des Redners wiedergeschenkt haben, dem späteren P.Lond.Lit. 134, mittlerweile in der British Library aufbewahrt.1 Das Schweigen ist nunmehr gebrochen: Besonders in den letzten Jahren hat man einiges ermitteln können über die Fund- und Erwerbsumstände einer Gruppe von Papyri, die 1889 ins British Museum gelangt sind und deren einer der genannte Hypereides ist. Der grundlegende Beitrag stammt von Guido Bastianini: Un luogo di ritrovamento fantasma, in: Atti del II Convegno Nazionale di Egittologia e Papirologia, Siracusa, 1–3 dicembre 1995 (Quaderni dell’Istituto Internazionale del Papiro, 7), Siracusa 1996, 69–84 (im Folgenden: Luogo); wichtige Präzisierungen hierzu bietet A. Martin, Heurs et malheurs d’un manuscrit. Deux notes à propos du papyrus d’Hérondas, in: ZPE 139, 2002, 22–26 (im Folgenden: Heurs et malheurs). Weitere Punkte haben geklärt D. Manetti, Proposte di collocazione di due frammenti in PBritLibr inv. 137 (Anonimo Londinese) e nuove letture, in: I. Andorlini (Hg.), ‘Specimina’ per il Corpus dei Papiri Greci di Medicina. Atti dell’Incontro di studio, Firenze, 28–29 marzo 1996, Firenze 1997, 141–152, bes. 141–143 (im Folgenden: Proposte), und G. Messeri, PLitLond 131: Isocrates, «De pace», in: Studi sulla tradizione del testo di Isocrate (STCPF, 12), Firenze 2003, 21–54, bes. 23–26 1

Für vergleichbare diskrete Äußerungen in Zusammenhang mit Aristoteles s. Bastianini, Luogo, 71, Anm. 8.

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(im Folgenden: PLitLond 131). Eine zusammenhängende Diskussion des ganzen Komplexes bietet L. Del Corso, L’Athenaion Politeia (P. Lond. Lit. 108) e la sua ‘biblioteca’: libri e mani nella chora egizia, in: D. Bianconi – L. Del Corso (Hg.), Oltre la scrittura. Variazioni sul tema per Guglielmo Cavallo (Dossiers byzantins, 8), Paris 2008, 13–52, bes. 33–52 (im Folgenden: Athenaion Politeia). Zwei ältere Publikationen, die für die hier zu untersuchenden Fragen wichtig sind, sind E.A.W. Budge, By Nile and Tigris. A Narrative of Journeys in Egypt and Mesopotamia on Behalf of the British Museum between the Years 1886 and 1913, 2 Bde, London 1920 (im Folgenden: By Nile and Tigris); und A. H. Sayce, Reminiscences, London 1923. Die nachfolgenden Bemerkungen betreffen einige sekundäre Punkte, die mir noch der Klärung zu bedürfen schienen. Entstanden sind sie im Laufe meiner Arbeit an einer Monographie über literarische Papyri, die auf der Rückseite von Dokumenten geschrieben sind, in erster Linie in Zusammenhang mit M.–P.3 163 und auch mit 697 (s. für die Nachweise Anm. 2). Auf jenes Buch, welches die Resultate eines von der Deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft finanzierten Projekts präsentieren soll, sei für weitere Diskussion verwiesen. 15.1 ZUM BESTAND DER GRUPPE Nicht vollkommen fest steht zunächst die Anzahl und Identifizierung der Papyrusrollen, die damals gemeinsam in das Museum eingegangen sind. Es dürfte sich um die im Jahre 1889 erworbene Inventar-Gruppe Nr. 128–137 oder den Großteil derselben handeln; erschließen läßt sich dies aus der Kombination des Rückblicks von F. G. Kenyon auf jene Stücke, Fifty Years of Papyrology, in: Actes du Ve Congrès International de Papyrologie, Oxford, 30 août – 3 septembre 1937, Bruxelles 1938, 1–11, 6–7, mit den aus den verschiedenen gedruckten Katalogen des British Museum zu entnehmenden Angaben über die Erwerbungsjahre der Papyri der Institution. Nachdem Bastianini, Luogo, 70–71, Anm. 7, bereits erwiesen hatte, daß Nr. 128 (P.Lond.Lit. 27; M.–P.3 998: Ilias Ψ und Ω) auszuschließen ist, konnte Manetti, Proposte, 141–142, auf Grund archivarischen Materials des British Museum weiter präzisieren, daß es um die Nr. 130–137 geht;2 sie waren im Museum bereits 1889, 2

Nr. 130: P.Lond. I 130 (S. 132–139), ein ausführliches und sorgfältig geschriebenes Horoskop; Nr. 131: P.Lond.Lit. 108 (M.–P.3 163: Aristoteles, Ἀθηναίων πολιτεία; auf Verso von vier Rollen, deren Rekto-Seiten dokumentarischen Text enthalten) + P.Lond.Lit. 179 (M.–P.3 307: Hypothesis und Anfang eines nicht vollendeten Kommentars zu Demosthenes, In Midiam; auf dem Verso der ersten Rolle) + P.Lond.Lit. 181 (M.–P.3 197: Flüchtige Notizen aus einem Kommentar zu Kallimachos, Aetia I; auf dem Rekto der ersten Rolle); Nr. 132: P.Lond.Lit. 131 (M.–P.3 1272: Isokrates, De pace); Nr. 133: P.Lond.Lit. 130 (M.–P.3 337: Demosthenes, Epi­ stula III; dieselbe Rolle wie Nr. 134); Nr. 134: P.Lond.Lit. 134 (M.–P.3 1234: Hypereides, In Philippidem; dieselbe Rolle wie Nr. 133); Nr. 135: P.Lond.Lit. 96 (M.–P.3 485: Herodas, Mi­ miambi); Nr. 136: P.Lond.Lit. 11 (M.–P.3 697: Ilias Γ und Δ; auf Verso zweier [?] dokumentarischer Rollen); Nr. 137: P.Lond.Lit. 165 (M.–P.3 2339: Anonymus Londiniensis, medizinischer Traktat).

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der Preis für sie wurde im Jahre 1890 entrichtet.3 Del Corso, Athenaion Politeia, 37–38, Anm. 77, aber zweifelt die volle Beweiskraft der offiziellen Erwerbungsnachweise an, weil etwa aus praktischen Gründen für nicht zusammenhängende Ankäufe gemeinsam gezahlt worden sein könne, o.ä. (vgl. auch S. 35, Anm. 67). Daher berücksichtigt er von der uns interessierenden Gruppe die Nr. 130 und 136, welche von Kenyon zit. nicht explizit erwähnt werden, nicht.4 Den an den beiden letztgenannten Stücken haftenden Zweifel erlaubt uns ein anderes Zeugnis Kenyons zu zerstreuen. Es handelt sich um die Publikation des Caxton Club: F. G. Kenyon, Ancient Books and Modern Discoveries, Chicago 1927.5 Dort, S. 45–46, schreibt er: „In the following year [d.h., 1889], through the same channels [d.h., „through the activities of … Dr (now Sir) E. A. Wallis Budge“], the Museum obtained a much larger consignment, the most epoch-making in all the history of papyrus literature up to the present day. I well remember how in January, 1890, I, being then a junior of just one year’s standing in the Museum, was confronted with a table covered with papyrus rolls which had been opened by our skilled technical attendant, and was told to make what I could of them.“ Dann spricht er von der ihm gelungenen Identifizierung von Aristoteles, Herodas, Hypereides und Demosthenes, dem Anonymus Londiniensis (s. für die Nachweise Anm. 2); er fährt fort, S. 47: „A horoscope, dated a.d. 91,6 the speech of Isocrates De 3

4 5

6

Zu vergleichen sind die auch im Netz verfügbaren Jährlichen Berichte des Museums in den Parliamentary Papers des Britischen House of Commons. So heißt es im Bericht für das Jahr 1889 (British Museum. Return to an order of the Honourable The House of Commons, dated 5 May 1890; for, account of the income and expenditure of the British Museum (Special Trust Funds) for the year ending the 31st day of March 1890; and, return of the number of persons admitted to visit the Museum and the British Museum (Natural History) in each year from 1884 to 1889, both years inclusive; together with a statement of the progress made in the arrangement and description of the collections, and an account of objects added to them, in the year 1889; House of Commons Papers, Accounts and Papers Jg. 1890 [218] LVI.819), S. 16: „Papyri CXXII–CXXVII., acquired in 1888, and CXXVIII., CXXIX., acquired in 1889, have been described“ (http://gateway.proquest.com/openurl?url_ver=Z39.88–2004&res_dat=xri:hcpp& rft_dat=xri:hcpp:fulltext:1890–067084:16); auf S. 17 (… 1890–067084:17) werden dementsprechend bloß zwei neu erworbene Papyri verzeichnet. Erst im Bericht des nächsten Jahres (British Museum. Return to an order … dated 6 May 1891; for, account … for the year ending the 31st day of March 1891; and, return of the number of persons … from 1885 to 1890, both years inclusive; together with a statement … in the year 1890; House of Commons Papers, Accounts and Papers Jg. 1890–91 [322] LXI.815), S. 26–27 ist die Rede von der hier interessierenden Gruppe (mit ausdrücklicher Nennung von nur acht Neuzugängen; http://gateway. proquest.com/openurl?url_ver=Z39.88–2004&res_dat=xri:hcpp&rft_dat=xri:hcpp:fulltext:1890–068232:26 und …1890–068232:27). Bereits Bastianini, Luogo 70, Anm. 7, hatte zu Nr. 136 angemerkt, Kenyon erwähne sie in Fifty Years nicht. Auf das schöne Buch verweist bereits Martin, Heurs et malheurs, 23, Anm. 14, ohne es für die hier interessierende Frage (die er nicht näher behandelt) zu benutzen. Kapitel IV, „The Materials of Books: Papyrus“ ist in deutscher Übersetzung eigenständig erschienen: F.G. Kenyon, Papyrus. Alte Bücher und moderne Entdeckungen (Schriften des Philobiblon), übers. v. G. Lehmann-Viereck, Brünn – Leipzig – Wien 1938; der hier interessierende Passus findet sich auf S. 22–24. Ein Flüchtigkeitsfehler Kenyons; das Horoskop wurde für eine Person geschrieben, deren Ge-

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Pace, and portions of a roll containing a tax-account on the front and books iii and iv of the Iliad on the back, completed a haul of incomparable richness.“ Also waren auch die Nr. 130 (das Horoskop) und 136 (Ilias Γ und Δ) Teile jenes großen zusammenhängenden Ankaufs von 1889; daß sie Kenyon in Fifty Years nicht erwähnt, liegt an ihrer geringen Bedeutung gegenüber den anderen Bestandteilen jener großartigen „Beute“.7 15.2 EIN ZUSAMMENHÄNGENDER FUND? Als nächstes ist zu fragen, ob diese Rollen, die gemeinsam gekauft wurden, auch einen einheitlichen Fund darstellen. Eine sichere Antwort ist nicht zu geben, denn kein Wissenschaftler wohnte ihrer Entdeckung bei; unsere einzige Quelle für die Fundumstände sind die von Budge und Sayce wiedergegebenen Angaben der einheimischen Finder, die aber durchaus unzuverlässig sind und durch die gewollte oder ungewollte Ungenauigkeit von Budge noch schwerer zu beurteilen werden. Siehe Abschnitt 15.3. Budge gibt den Inhalt der brieflichen Ankündigung der Entdeckung folgendermaßen wieder (By Nile and Tigris II, 150): „I kept in communication with the natives who were making the search for papyri, and I received from one of them in November, 1888, a letter saying that they had found some good-sized rolls of papyrus in a painted cartonnage box. The writer of this letter and two of his partners met me … and we discussed the purchase of all these papyri and they named their price.“ Dies klingt nach etwas Einheitlichem, unabhängig aber von der Frage nach der Glaubwürdigkeit der Mitteilung an sich,8 ist Budges Erzählung zu summarisch, als daß man ganz ausschließen könnte, daß vor dem Treffen zu der angekündigten Entdeckung mehr dazugekommen war, o.ä.9 Anzumerken ist, daß Budge in der Auflistung der Beute seiner „Third Mission“, S. 137–138, deutlich zwischen den Aristoteles-Rollen (Nr. III) und dem Rest der griechischen Papyri (Nr. IV10) trennt; aber dies geschieht doch nur der Wichtigkeit nach, s. im Folgenden, Abschnitt 15.5.11

7

8 9 10 11

burtsjahr 81 n.Chr. war (s. O. Neugebauer – H. B. Van Hoesen, Greek Horoscopes [American Philosophical Society, Memoirs, 48], Philadelphia 1959, S. 24 [im Folgenden: Horoscopes], und D. Hagedorn – K. A. Worp, Das Wandeljahr im römischen Ägypten, in: ZPE 104, 1994, 243–255, 247 mit Anm. 18). Nr. 136 bleibt sogar in dem den Trustees des Museums vorgelegten Bericht unerwähnt, s. Manetti, Proposte, 142. Andererseits erwähnen die Ilias als Teil der Gruppe Sayce (s. im Folgenden, S. 255) und (wenn keine Verwechslung mit früher erworbenem Material vorliegt) Budge, By Nile and Tigris II, 137 (und ist das Magische, von welchem er ebd. redet, das Horoskop?). Vgl. Bastianini, Luogo, 75–76, Anm. 27, und allgemeiner im Folgenden, S. 253–254. Bei einem anderen Buchfund, welcher den eigenen Interessen näher lag und wo Autopsie möglich war, zeigte sich Budge der Wichtigkeit des Fundkontextes durchaus bewußt, s. By Nile and Tigris II, 372–374. Hierzu vgl. freilich Anm. 7. Selbstverständlich ungenau ist auch die Angabe auf S. 147, „[t]he Greek rolls were transferred to the Department of Manuscripts, where they were examined and transcribed by the present Director of the British Museum (Sir F. G. Kenyon) who discovered that the reverses of the rolls were inscribed with a copy of Aristotle’s lost work on the Constitution of Athens“.

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Bei Sayce ist eindeutig die Rede von einem zusammenhängenden Fund, aber die ganze Erzählung ist unzuverlässig, s. im Folgenden, Abschnitt 15.3. Die Formulierung Kenyons, Fifty Years, 6: „In the same winter of 1889–1890 Dr. (afterwards Sir Ernest) Budge had acquired a parcel of papyrus rolls from a dealer“ besagt nichts zur hier interessierenden Frage (vgl. aber immerhin das Zitat von Kenyon auf S. 258). Wo auch immer der Fund geglückt ist (s. den nächsten Abschnitt), scheint es mir grundsätzlich (aber s. im Folgenden) nicht ausgeschlossen zu sein, daß er das Ergebnis einer Anzahl zeitlich und örtlich nah beieinander liegender aber dem speziellen Fundkontext nach voneinander unabhängiger Entdeckungen war, eher als etwas Zusammenhängendes: Nach Budges Erzählung scheinen die koptischen Entdecker im Antiquitätenhandel nicht unerfahren gewesen zu sein; sie blieben darin auch nach 1888–1889 tätig (By Nile and Tigris II, 148–149; 150: „As a matter of fact the natives … did business with me for at least twenty years more, in fact as long as they had anything to sell“; 345: „a man from Meir, who did not belong to the “company” of dealers with whom I was acquainted“ [wenn es um die hier interessierende Gruppe geht]); also muß es sich nicht um einen einmaligen, glücklichen Zufallsfund handeln, wir könnten es mit dem Ergebnis längeren systematischen Suchens zu tun haben. Ferner erwähnt Budge zusammen mit den griechischen drei hieroglyphische Rollen (S. 137; 147), die ihm von denselben Ägyptern übergeben wurden; da man vermutlich nicht wird glauben wollen, daß auch diese neben dem Aristoteles und dem Herodas gefunden wurden, wird man zugeben müssen, daß diese Männer über disparates Material verfügten.12 Trotzdem scheint es gut möglich, daß es sich bei den griechischen Texten um etwas Zusammenhängendes handelt; vgl. Martin, Heurs et malheurs, 23; Messeri, PLitLond 131, 25 mit Anm. 17; und Del Corso, Athenaion Politeia, 33–52, der als erster die Gruppe als Ganzes untersucht. Neben den verschiedenen Ähnlichkeiten zwischen den Rollen, auf welche Messeri zit. hinweist und die Del Corso weiter ausführt, könnte man auch die bunte Durchmischung der abgeblätterten Fragmente (von Herodas, Isokrates, Homer, Aristoteles, Anonymus Londiniensis13) in der „Rolle“ von Sayce und in der Schachtel von 1900 (s. Abschnitt 15.3, S. 254–257 und Anm. 21) heranziehen: Diese paßt recht gut zu der Annahme, daß alle diese Stücke zusammenlagen (ohne sie unvermeidbar zu machen). Auch der sehr ähnliche Erhaltungszustand kann als ein schwaches Indiz in derselben Richtung gedeutet werden: Diejenige Extremität, welche im Innersten lag (d.h. das Schlußstück, wenn die Rolle in anfänglicher Leseposition war, der Anfang, wenn die Rolle nach Ende der Lektüre nicht zurückgerollt worden war), ist jeweils allem Anschein nach in ihrer ganzen ursprünglichen Ausdehnung, also einschließlich der vor dem Anfang 12

13

Handelt es sich bei der einen von ihnen um das Exemplar des Totenbuches BM EA 10479 (M. Mosher, Jr., The Papyrus of Hor (BM EA 10479), with Papyrus MacGregor: The Late Period Tradition at Akhmim, Bd. II von: Catalogue of the Books of the Dead in the British Museum, London 2001), so wurde dieser 1890 registrierte Papyrus durch Vermittlung von Ch. Murch in Akhmim, möglicherweise von einem lokalen Händler erworben; s. die Ed., S. 1. Auch das Schlußstück des Horoskops ist abgebrochen; könnte es sein, daß auch dies mit der ersten Lieferung von Sayce nach England kam?

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bzw. nach dem Ende des Textes zum Schutz der Schrift gelassenen unbeschriebenen Strecke erhalten.14 Und allgemeiner könnte man darauf hinweisen, daß es bei beiden für möglich gehaltenen Fundkontexten (Grabkomplex bzw. Ruinen einer Stadt; s. den nächsten Abschnitt) vielleicht etwas wahrscheinlicher ist, daß mehrere literarische Rollen auf einmal gefunden wurden, als daß sie aus mehreren Funden stammen.15 15.3 DER FUNDORT Die Frage nach dem Fundort der Rollen ist von Bastianini in Luogo behandelt worden. Den Anlaß hierzu hat ihm die Angabe der Lokalität Meir als Herkunft von Nr. 163 (sowie 197 und 307) in Pack2 (im übrigen bereits bei den entsprechenden Nummern in Pack1) gegeben;16 ihre Quelle suchend, ist er auf das Buch von Budge gekommen, s. gleich im Folgenden. Diesbezüglich ist zunächst eine sehr kleine Präzisierung möglich: Die unmittelbare Quelle Packs war wohl der ältere Katalog von Ch. H. Oldfather, The Greek Literary Texts from Greco-Roman Egypt. A Study in the History of Civilization (University of Wisconsin Studies in the Social Sciences and History, 9), Madison 1923; dort, S. 9, wird für die Nr. 98, „Aristotle: Ἀθηναίων πολιτεία“ als Herkunft „Meir“ angegeben, und in Anm. 4 auf S. 9–10 präzisiert: „E. A. W. Budge in his On Nile and Tigris, II, 331ff., 345ff., recounts the manner in which this papyrus and the Bacchylides (No. 110) were secured for the British Museum. They apparently were found in the cemetery of Meir. The document on the recto of this papyrus was concerned with some land near Hermopolis Magna and it is probable that both papyri are to be connected originally with that metropolis.“ Dieselbe Angabe wird dementsprechend auch zu Bakchylides und zu Nr. 170, M.– P.3 307 (s. Anm. 2; hier versehentlich „Meif“), gemacht; s. auch S. 101. Damals konnte Oldfather natürlich die Verbindung zu den anderen Stücken nicht von sich aus herstellen; daher werden diese als unbekannter Herkunft bezeichnet, was auch 14

15

16

Verwiesen für das eben Gesagte sei allgemein auf die Editionen und die Abbildungen, soweit vorhanden. Im Falle des Aristoteles war es allem Anschein nach der Anfang des ersten τόμος, der im Rolleninnersten lag, s. im Folgenden, Abschnitt 15.5. Es sticht davon nur die Inv.-Nr. 133–134 ab (Demosthenes und Hypereides), deren Schlußstück (dies wird hier die geschützte Extremität gewesen sein) mit etwa drei Kolumnen Text (s. Kenyon, Classical Texts from Papyri in the British Museum; Including the Newly Discovered Poems of Herodas, Oxford 1891 [im Folgenden: Classical Texts], 56) verlorengegangen ist. Auch in der Datierung weicht dieses Stück vom Rest der Rollen ab; die beiden Texte werden ins I. oder sogar II. Jh. v. Chr. datiert (s. Del Corso, Athenaion Politeia, 38–39, ferner auch S. 47, Anm. 114). Könnte es also sein, daß speziell dieses Stück ein Eindringling in unsere Gruppe ist? In den Ruinen hätte man auch das ungemein häufigere Dokumentarische erwartet; und die Existenz mehrerer voneinander unabhängiger Gräber von Freunden griechischer Literatur ist auch keine einfache Annahme (vgl. H. Cuvigny, The Finds of Papyri: The Archaeology of Papyrology, in: R. S. Bagnall [Hg.], The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology, Oxford 2009, 30–58, bes. S. 44–45 [im Folgenden: Finds]). Pack1: R. A. Pack, The Greek and Latin Literary Texts from Greco-Roman Egypt (University of Michigan, General Library Publications, 8), Ann Arbor 1952; Pack2: ders., The Greek and Latin Literary Texts from Greco-Roman Egypt, Ann Arbor 21965.

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Pack (dem es grundsätzlich möglich gewesen wäre, anhand von Kenyons Berichten weiter zu kommen) übernommen hat (dies notieren Bastianini, Luogo, 70, und Messeri, PLitLond 131, 25, Anm. 17). Bastianini hat nun die Schilderung der Fundumstände durch Budge und Sayce kritisch geprüft und bei ersterem gravierende und unerklärliche Widersprüche festgestellt.17 Budge spricht von einem von ihm selbst besuchten Grabkomplex, dessen Lage er aber allem Anschein nach falsch angibt (By Nile and Tigris II, 149; vgl. Bastianini, Luogo, 74–75); dort hätten Einheimische in seinem Auftrag ohne seine Anwesenheit gegraben, die uns interessierenden Stücke gefunden und ihm die Entdeckung brieflich mitgeteilt; anschließend hätten sie die Papyri zu ihm nach Port Said gebracht (By Nile and Tigris II, 150; vgl. S. 136–137 und 147). Im Jahre 1892, als er den Nil hinaufging auf der Suche nach Antiquitäten, habe er dann den Plan gefaßt, „to carry out excavations on the site of the old cemetery near Meir, where I obtained the Aristotle Papyrus“ (ebd. S. 331); es handelt sich um denselben Ort, von welchem auf S. 149–150 die Rede war, der aber nach der dort gegebenen Beschreibung keineswegs „near Meir“ gewesen sein kann (Bastianini, Luogo, 75–76). Diesmal habe er selbst der Entdeckung von „kleinen“ griechischen Papyri (d.h. wohl, keine Rollen) beigewohnt, die er nach London geschickt habe (By Nile and Tigris II, 331–332). Im November 1896, zurück in Cairo, habe er „a mass of small Greek papyri, some from Meir, some from the Fayyûm, and some from places further south“ gefunden (ebd., S. 345 – mit „I found“ meint er wohl, daß die Händler, die in diesen Ortschaften ihr Handwerk trieben, zu ihm mit den Stücken oder auch nur mit der Nachricht über Neufunde gekommen waren). Anschließend (ebd., S. 345 ff.) spricht er von „a man from Meir, who did not belong to the “company” of dealers with whom I was acquainted“, der ihm einen neuen Schatz, den BakchylidesPapyrus (s. oben, S. 252 und unten, Anm. 30), angeboten habe; diesen hätte der Mann entdeckt „in a square (i.e., rectangular) coffin, in a tomb in a hill close to Meir“ (ebd., S. 346). Das Weitere interessiert hier nicht. Man steht, wie anscheinend oft bei Budge, vor einer Reihe von Rätseln; allenfalls mit Hilfe weiteren archivarischen Materials, wenn solches vorhanden sein sollte, wird man in der Frage vielleicht etwas weiterkommen können, was das alles heißen soll (vgl. den oben, Anm. 17 zitierten Aufsatz von M. Smith).18 Immerhin 17

18

Für eine lehrreiche Untersuchung eines vergleichbaren Falles, wo Budges Fundangaben über ägyptologisches Material als widersprüchlich und unzuverlässig erwiesen werden, s. M. Smith, Budge at Akhmim, January 1896, in: Ch. Eyre u.a. (Hg.), The Unbroken Reed. Studies in the Culture and Heritage of Ancient Egypt in Honour of A. F. Shore (The Egypt Exploration Society, Occasional Publications, 11), London 1994, 293–303 (im Folgenden: Budge at Akhmim). Von der Diskussion auszuschließen ist wohl Mallawi, über dessen Erwähnung bei Budge, S. 331, Bastianini, Luogo, 72, 76 und 84, sich wundert: Diese Ortschaft scheint eine Art Stützpunkt für Budge während seiner Reisen in der Region gewesen zu sein, s. By Nile and Tigris II, 339: „I therefore hurried up to Mallawî al-῾Arîsh, and spent a few days there in seeing and hearing what had been done in the neighbourhood“; er bricht daher nach Süden auf und kehrt wieder dorthin zurück, wohin auch Kisten mit dem zu erwerbenden Material gebracht worden sind (S. 343). Vgl. bereits die erste Erwähnung in Bd. II, 148–149. (Auch Wilhelm Schubart war später mit seiner ersten Frau Frida in Mallawi auf der Suche nach Papyri; und auch in diesem Falle ist ein Händler von woandersher zu ihnen nach Mallawi gekommen; s. Fr. Schubart, Von Wüste,

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können wir mit Bastianini, Luogo, 72, 76 und 84, daran festhalten, daß der Ort, wo die Aristoteles-Gruppe nach Budge gefunden wurde, nicht Meir war.19 Noch wichtiger ist die Beobachtung Bastianinis, Luogo, 76–77, daß Budge überhaupt nur die Angabe der Finder wiedergab, die in diesem Falle nicht als bindend gelten kann. Bastianini findet die ganze Erzählung unwahrscheinlich und denkt statt dessen an die Ruinen von Hermupolis als möglichen Fundort (S. 84); vgl. den nächsten Abschnitt. Auch Messeri, PLitLond 131, 25, denkt, die Rollen könnten in der Bibliothek eines Privathauses gefunden worden sein; gegen einen Grabkontext spreche zum einen ihre hohe Zahl, zum zweiten ihre buchtechnisch niedrige Qualität.20 Zustimmend Del Corso, Athenaion Politeia, 36–37 (der an Hermupolis oder Antinoupolis denkt). S. für diese Frage im Folgenden, S. 257–258. Sayce wiederum behauptet in Reminiscences, 332–334, derjenige gewesen zu sein, der den ganzen Fund für die Wissenschaft gerettet hat, indem er ihn vom einheimischen Entdecker erworben habe, nachdem dieser ihn zunächst vergeblich an J. R. Alexander, einen Amerikaner in Asyut, angeboten hatte, von welchem dann Sayce von der Sache erfahren und sich wie geschildert betätigt habe; Sayce habe dann dafür gesorgt, daß das Gekaufte nach London ins Museum kam. Hinzu sei eine größere Anzahl von Kleinfragmenten gekommen, die sich vom erworbenen Material durch dessen sorglose Behandlung gelöst hatten; auch diese habe Sayce in die Hände bekommen und später ins British Museum überbracht (Reminiscences, 333).21 In diesem Falle habe der Finder genauere Angaben über den Fundort ma-

19 20

21

Nil und Sonne, Berlin 1922, 69–70.) Also wird auch die Erwähnung des Ortes auf S. 331 so zu verstehen sein: Budge und seine einheimischen „Freunde“ reisen von Cairo aus zu jener Lokalität, um von dort aus die Grabungen „on the site of the old cemetery near Meir, where [Budge] obtained the Aristotle Papyrus“ in Gang zu setzen. Ich weiß nicht, ob folgende Beobachtungen von irgendeiner Bedeutung für die Frage sind: a. Für Meir als zweifelhafte von Budge stammende Provenienzangabe s. auch Smith, Budge in Akhmim, 299: „The two gaudily-painted statues of a nude woman described in By Nile and Tigris were first offered for purchase to the Trustees of the British Museum in a report written by Budge dated 3 May 1895, in which they are said to come from Meir, not Akhmim.“ b. In Cook’s Handbook for Egypt and the Egyptian Sûdân; with Chapters on Egyptian Archaeology, London 41921, 364, schreibt Budge zu „Mîr“ (= Meir): „The ancient cemeteries of Cusae lie in the neighbourhood of Mîr (population 7,216), some miles to the west, and many of the tombs of the Middle Empire are well worth visiting. In the tombs of the Roman Period many of the mummies were provided with painted plaster portrait busts, and many Greek papyri have been found in the coffins“. Mir scheint sich im übrigen aus Budges Bericht nicht unbedingt zu ergeben, daß er genau denselben Fundort für diese Gruppe und den Bakchylides behauptet. Für griechische Bücher als Totenbeigaben s. A. Martin – O. Primavesi, L’Empédocle de Strasbourg (P. Strasb. gr. Inv. 1665 – 1666), Berlin – New York 1999, 36–38 mit Lit.; Cuvigny, Finds, 44–45. In meiner oben, S. 248 erwähnten Monographie diskutiere ich die besondere Natur des Papyrus der Ἀθηναίων πολιτεία und komme zum Schluß, es könnte sich um eine bloß vorläufige Kopie handeln; eine solche hätte sich keineswegs als Totenbeigabe geeignet. Wie man erkannt hat, handelt es sich dabei um die Schachtel mit Kleinfragmenten, die 1900 ins Museum kam und aus welcher Kenyon kleine Ergänzungen zu den Texten lieferte; s. Bastianini, Luogo, 83–84; vertreten waren darin Aristoteles, Herodas (s. für beide Bastianini zit.), Isokrates (s. Messeri, PLitLond 131, 28, Anm. 27 [aber s. hier, Anm. 22]) und der Anonymus Londiniensis (s. Manetti, Proposte, 142–143). Ob auch Hypereides, ist nicht klar.

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chen und auch weiteres Material aus demselben mitliefern können: Es habe sich um das reichlich ausgestattete Grab eines Paares in Meir gehandelt, in welchem sich auch ein (vom Finder Alexander und Sayce vorgelegtes) Mumientäfelchen gefunden habe. Bereits 1890 hatte Sayce relevante Mitteilungen gemacht, und zwar in der Publikation The Academy, Nr. 937 vom 19. April 1890, S. 273 (allgemein zum Fund, mit vielen der auch in Reminiscences gegebenen Details), und wieder in Nr. 962 vom 11. Oktober desselben Jahres, S. 319; in der letzteren Nummer publizierte er zwei Fragmente aus „seinem“ Teil des Fundes, Teile von Kol. 41 und 42 der Herodas-Rolle, später einverleibt als Herodas VII 116–129 und VIII 1–3 und 6–7. Ein weiteres Fragment, das Sayce gesehen und transkribiert hatte, ebenfalls des Herodas (jetzt VIII 40–46), wurde dank einer Mitteilung von Th. Reinach an H. Weil in dessen Miszelle Fragment iambique inédit, rapporté par M. Sayce, in: REG 3, 1890, 309–310, publiziert. S. für die Geschichte dieser Herodas-Fragmente Martin, Heurs et malheurs, bes. S. 22–23 und 24. Weitere Fragmente der Gruppe, die Sayce gesehen hatte, stammten von Isokrates, De pace (Weil zit., 309, Anm. 1: „Il [das Herodas-Fragment] provient de la tombe d’un certain Sarapous, aux environs de Deyrout. Dans la même tombe on a recueilli un fragment du Περὶ εἰρήνης d’Isocrate, § 20“22) und der Ilias (Sayce, Academy vom 19. April 1890, 273: „a number of Greek papyri, including some lines of the Iliad“). Hier liegen die Sachen viel einfacher: Wie Bastianini, Luogo, 82–84, erkannt hat, dürfte es sich bei dem, was Sayce erworben und aus welchem er z.T. mitgeteilt hat, keineswegs um den ganzen Fund handeln, sondern bloß um abgebröckelte Fragmente der Rollen, die statt an Budge in der Hoffnung auf einen Nebenverdienst anderweitig angeboten wurden; in den beiden eindeutigen Fällen von Herodas und Isokrates handelt es sich bezeichnenderweise um Fragmente aus den schlecht erhaltenen äußeren Lagen der jeweiligen Rolle (vgl. oben, S. 251–252). Sayce spricht in Reminiscences, 333, von einer Rolle („… a man came to me with a Greek Papyrus … the incriminating roll of papyri … A hasty glance at the roll … the roll was sent to the British Museum… with the roll in the pocket of his galabîya … a corner of it“); wie Bastianini, Luogo, 80, bemerkt, spricht dies ja eindeutig gegen die Annahme, Sayce hätte je den ganzen Fund gesehen. Ich frage mich, ob die Finder die verbliebenen losen Fragmente zu einer kleinen Rolle verarbeitet haben könnten; über solches spricht Budge selbst (nicht in dem uns interessierenden Zusammenhang), By Nile and Tigris II, 323–324: „Some of the forgeries were clumsy … and the same may be said of the “rolls of papyri”–though many people bought them– which were composed of bits of genuine papyri glued together, and covered over with a sheet of genuine papyrus“; s. ferner F. G. Kenyon, Hyperidis orationes et fragmenta (Scriptorum Classicorum bibliotheca Oxoniensis), Oxford 1907, S. III– IV („rotuli ficticii“); R. A. Coles – C. Gallazzi, Papyri and Ostraka: Alterations and 22

Siehe hierzu Messeri, PLitLond 131, 26–27, Anm. 20. Sie meint, das Fragment habe zur Masse von Bruchstücken gehört, die erst im Jahre 1900 nach London gelangt sind (s. Anm. 21); so auch S. 28, Anm. 27. Mir ist aber wahrscheinlicher, daß es sich um etwas Größeres handelte (sonst wäre es Sayce wohl nicht so leicht gefallen, es zu identifizieren), wie die Stücke von Herodas, und daß es wie diese bereits im Jahre 1890 in Kenyons Hände kam, rechtzeitig für die Berücksichtigung in Classical Texts (s. S. 256).

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Counterfeits, in: E. Bresciani u.a. (Hg.), Scritti in onore di Orsolina Montevecchi, Bologna 1981, 99–105, 100 mit Abb. 3 auf S. 104; C. Gallazzi, I falsi rotoli dell’Acerbi, P.Paris 3 ter e P.Lond.Lit. 13, in: ZPE 112, 1996, 183–188, bes. 183– 184 mit Parallelen in Anm. 11 auf S. 184; und vgl. auch H. Harrauer – A. Papathomas, Griechische ptolemäische Papyri aus “Totenbuchröllchen” in Graz, in: Aegyptus 86, 2006, 119–137. Daß Sayce glauben konnte, jene eine Rolle habe den ganzen Fund enthalten (Reminiscences, 333; vgl. Bastianini, Luogo, 80 mit Anm. 45), ist merkwürdig. Die genaue Anzahl und der Inhalt der Reststücke von Sayce ist nur im Falle des Herodas klar erkennbar: Das Material kam rechtzeitig in England an (s. am Ende dieses Absatzes für die relevante Zahlung vom 12. Juli 1890), so daß die Fragmente im Bande Classical Texts vom Jahre 1891 für Homer und Isokrates ohne jede besondere Hervorhebung berücksichtigt werden konnten. Nur beim schwierigen Neuland des Herodas konnte die Plazierung offenbar nicht so schnell gelingen; wohl um die Publikation nicht aufzuhalten, hat Kenyon sich damit begnügt, nur das eine Fragment mit Herodas VII 116–129 und VIII 1–3 in den Text einzuverleiben und auf die übrigen in der Einleitung summarisch hinzuweisen (Classical Texts, 6: „Some small detached fragments of the missing portion are in existence, including the title of one additional poem, besides that of which the first three lines are contained at the end of the continuous portion of the MS.“); die Bekanntgabe der letzteren ist noch im Jahre 1891 geschehen, s. Martin, Heurs et malheurs, 22–23.23 Auch bei den später publizierten P.Lond. I 130 (s. Anm. 2; publiziert im Jahre 1893) und Anonymus Londiniensis (ed.pr. von H. Diels als Supplementum Aristotelicum III.1 im Jahre 1893) findet man keine mit Herodas vergleichbaren Spuren eines stufenweisen Erwerbsvorgangs mehr. Daß auch letzterer Text in der Gruppe von Sayce vertreten war, legt aber der Umstand nahe, daß auch von ihm kleinere Fragmente in der Schachtel zu finden waren, in welcher Sayce den Detritus gesammelt hatte (s. Anm. 21). Dasselbe Argument kann man auch für die Ἀθηναίων πολιτεία benutzen. Hier gibt es auch die Frage jenes verlorenen Stücks, von welchem Budge in By Nile and Tigris II, 147–148 und 153–154 spricht (s. Abschnitt 15.5): Es scheint die einfachste Lösung, mit Bastianini, Luogo, 82–84, auch dies für einen Teil des eben besprochenen Materials zu halten (zumal Budge das Stück bei einem „gentleman at Asyûṭ“ [S. 154] gefunden hat, womit Alexander gemeint sein dürfte, s. Bastianini, Luogo, 82); dann muß man annehmen, daß es Budge war, der das ganze Material nach England geschickt hat (die Annahme ist mit Sayces farbloser Ausdrucksweise „I made myself responsible for it, and the roll was sent to the British Museum“, Reminiscences, 333, nicht unvereinbar24); und dann wohl auf die S. 23

24

Diese Addenda des Herodas wurden auch als Sonderheft mit Seitennummern, die an die letzte Seite von Classical Texts anschlossen (S. 117–122), gedruckt (vgl. Kenyon, Nouveaux fragments d’Hérodas, in: RPh 15, 1891, 162–167, 162); in früher gedruckten Exemplaren von Classical Texts fehlen sie, in späteren sind sie bereits eingefügt worden. In einer seiner seltenen Äußerungen zur Frage der Erwerbsumstände schreibt Kenyon aus Anlaß des oben zitierten Titels der Miszelle von H. Weil: „Il ne semble pas correct de dire que le fragment a été rapporté d’Égypte par M. Sayce; mais il est certain que M. Sayce l’a vu et copié, usw.“ (RPh 15, 1891, 163, Anm. 1).

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154 seines Berichtes dargelegte abenteuerliche Art und Weise. Ich sehe aber darin ein kleines Problem, daß nach Manettis Angaben in Proposte, 141–142, in Zusammenhang mit der einzigen in den Unterlagen des British Museum festgehaltenen Zusatzzahlung für „[f]urther fragments“ der Gruppe auf die Trustees’ Minutes vom 12. Juli 1890 verwiesen wird, während Budge das fehlende Stück des Aristoteles nach eigener Angabe erst nach dem 7. Oktober 1890 hat finden können (By Nile and Tigris II, 153–154; vgl. Bastianini, Luogo, 78–79). Vorstellbar ist etwa, daß das Aristoteles-Stück erst später in Alexanders Hände gelangt ist, o.ä.25 Was Alexanders Rolle in der Affäre betrifft, so hat man auf Vermerke in den Unterlagen des British Museum aufmerksam gemacht, aus welchen hervorgeht, daß der Preis nicht nur für die Zusätze von 1890 (s. den vorigen Absatz), sondern auch für den großen Kauf selbst an ihn gezahlt wurde, s. Manetti, Proposte, 141–142. Diese Angabe könnte dahin gedeutet werden, daß Alexander das Ganze in den Händen gehabt hätte (so anscheinend Del Corso, Athenaion Politeia, 34–35). Ich finde aber die Annahme Bastianinis, Luogo, 82–83, Anm. 51 (vgl. auch 75–76, Anm. 27), daß er nur Mittelsmann bei der Entlohnung der Finder war, durchaus überzeugend, und kann sie mit der Aussage von Budge selbst in Zusammenhang mit einer wohl ganz ähnlichen Situation bekräftigen, By Nile and Tigris II, 341–342, Anm. 4: „The name of Mr. C. Murch is appended to the descriptions of a great many MSS. in this Catalogue [d.h., W. E. Crum, Catalogue of the Coptic Manuscripts in the British Museum, London 1905] as if they were obtained by or from him; but such is not the case. Being a permanent resident in Upper Egypt, Mr. Murch was so kind as to receive the Treasury warrants which the Trustees sent in payment for their purchases, and he cashed them, and paid the natives, to each the share which was his due.“ Vgl. auch ebd. 138, Anm. 1: „Dr. Wright advanced the money for the payment for these manuscripts [d.h. „British Museum, Nos. Oriental 4051–4102“], and arranged with Dr. Rieu, Keeper of the Department of Oriental Manuscripts, to hand them over to the British Museum when funds became available. Dr. Wright died before the arrangement could be carried out, and the manuscripts were despatched to the Museum by his widow. I mention this to explain the official entry in the Register that the manuscripts were purchased from Mrs. Wright.“ Man muß nur den Zufall hinnehmen, daß Alexander auf zweierlei Art und Weise beteiligt war (als Mittelsmann von Budge und selbst als Kunde); aber die Sache ist keineswegs unwahrscheinlich. Es bleibt noch, den Wert der Sayce gemachten Angabe über den Fundort zu prüfen: Den auf der angeblichen Datierung des oben genannten Mumientäfelchens ins 14. Jahr des Augustus basierenden Einwänden von Kenyon und anderen gegen die Möglichkeit einer Herkunft der offenbar späteren Papyrusrollen aus dem Grab konnte Martin, Heurs et malheurs, 24–26, durch die richtige Interpretation jener Angabe als das Alter der Verstorbenen den Boden entziehen. Auch hat er durch schlagende Parallelen bewiesen, daß die von Sayce wiedergegebene Beschreibung 25

Das Eintreffen der Nachzügler von Sayce könnte vielleicht in Kenyon die Hoffnung erst geweckt haben, auch von Aristoteles könnte mehr vorhanden sein; ist es nur Zufall, daß wie gesagt die Zahlung für die neuen Fragmente am 12. Juli 1890 festgehalten wird, die Bitte an Budge, nach dem fehlenden Aristoteles zu suchen, anscheinend im Juni–Juli desselben Jahres ergeht (Bastianini, Luogo, 78)?

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des Grabes bei Meir einen realen Hintergrund haben dürfte. Dies läßt den einheimischen „Fundbericht“ nicht mehr so unglaubhaft erscheinen (vgl. Cuvigny, Finds, 44). Trotzdem enthält dieser zwei Elemente, die m.E. nicht gerade für seine Glaubwürdigkeit sprechen: Zunächst einmal wurde Sayce und Alexander mitgeteilt, daß die mitgefundenen Papyri, wie die Mumien des Paares, „torn and scattered“ worden seien (Sayce, Academy, Nr. 937, S. 273); dies war, wie wir wissen, nicht der Fall. Schwerer wiegt die chronologische Ungereimtheit: Nach dem Finder sei das Grab im Winter 1889/1890 gefunden worden (Sayce, ebd.); wir wissen aber, daß sich der Großteil der uns interessierenden Papyri bereits im April 1889 in den Händen von Budge befand. Es könnte also sein, daß zwei unabhängige Funde (der der Papyri und der des Grabes) miteinander verbunden wurden, um die Sache für die möglichen Käufer der nicht gerade ansehnlichen Reste der Papyri interessanter zu machen. Man darf auch fragen, warum die Finder nicht über die sonstige Ausstattung des Grabes mit Budge verhandelt hätten, der mit ihnen ausgemacht hatte, „to purchase from them one-half of everything they might find in the tombs“ (Budge, By Nile and Tigris II, 149). M.E. kann es also bei den oben, S. 254, wiedergegebenen Einwänden von Bastianini und Messeri gegen die Annahme des Grabfundkontextes bleiben. Schließlich notiere ich, daß allem Anschein nach auch Kenyon die Angaben von Budge über den Fundort für wahr hielt. In seinem Aufsatz The Library of a Greek of Oxyrhynchus, in: JEA 8, 1922, 129–138, 129, schreibt er: „The great discoveries which preceded it [d.h. „the work of the Graeco-Roman Branch of the Egypt Exploration Society“] had been the product … or of rolls found in a few tombs, like the Hyperides manuscripts of the middle of the century, or the British Museum acquisitions of 1890“; vgl. auch S. 138, wo er allgemein über Papyri in Gräbern redet. Vgl. ferner seine Oxoniensis der Ἀθηναίων πολιτεία v.J. 1920, S. V: „Opus Aristotelicum igitur homini Aegyptio debemus, qui in volumine papyraceo vetere id transcribendum curavit … tandem secum in tumulum mortuus socium attulit.“ Dies entscheidet die Frage freilich keineswegs. Vgl. dagegen H. I. Bell, Egypt from Alexander the Great to the Arab Conquest. A Study in the Diffusion and Decay of Hellenism. Being the Gregynog Lectures for 1946, Oxford 1948, 13: „It is reported that three famous literary papyri in the British Museum, Aristotle’s treatise on the Athenian Constitution, the odes of Bacchylides, and the mimes of Herôdas, had a similar origin [d.h., aus einem Grab]; but since they were bought from dealers, who always do their best to conceal the source of their wares, these statements cannot be relied on.“ 15.4. WEITERES ZUM „SCHREIBORT“ Die mit der im vorigen Abschnitt behandelten natürlich nicht identische Frage nach dem Ort, wo die Rollen geschrieben und gelesen wurden, ist für die Ἀθηναίων πολιτεία erörtert worden, deren aus dem Hermopolites stammende dokumentarische Vorderseite einen Anhaltspunkt bietet: Sie legt nahe anzunehmen, auch das literarische Werk sei in diesem Gau niedergeschrieben worden; vgl. Kenyon, Ari-

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stotelis Res publica Atheniensium (Supplementum Aristotelicum, III.2), Berlin 1903, S. VII: „unde papyrum Londinensem circa finem saeculi p. Ch. primi in Aegypto (fortasse prope oppidum Hermopolim, in qua regione rationes Didymeae confectae sunt26) transcriptam esse constat“, sowie das oben, S. 252, gegebene Zitat aus Oldfathers Katalog, der an die Metropole selbst denkt. Für letztere Deutung ist in neuerer Zeit M. Manfredi, L’Athenaion Politeia di Aristotele e i papiri, in: A. H. S. El-Mosallamy (Hg.), Proceedings of the XIXth International Congress of Papyrology. Cairo, 2–9 September 1989, Cairo 1992, Bd. I, 447–460, bes. 451–453 (vgl. S. 458–460) mit beachtenswerten Argumenten eingetreten; diese wird mittlerweile allgemein angenommen (s. Bastianini, Luogo, 69 und 84; Messeri, PLitLond 131, 26). Will man alle hier diskutierten Rollen als ein zusammenhängendes Ganzes ansehen (s. oben, Abschnitt 15.2), so wäre Hermupolis folgerichtig auch für den Rest als der Ort zu bezeichnen, wo sie einst gelesen wurden.27 Daß etwa auch P. Lond.Lit. 131 (Isokrates, De pace) aus jener Metropole stammen könnte, hält dementsprechend Messeri zit. für wahrscheinlich. Hierfür lassen sich nun auch die beiden zugehörigen Stücke heranziehen, von welchen in Abschnitt 15.1 die Rede war: Am Schluß des Horoskops P.Lond. I 130 (= Neugebauer – Van Hoesen, Horoscopes, Nr. 81 [S. 21–28]) steht die astronomisch relevante Information, ἐψηφίσθη | ἐν Ἑρμοῦ | πόλει („[das vorliegende Horoskop] wurde errechnet, zusammengestellt, in Hermupolis“; Z. 200–202 bei Neugebauer – Van Hoesen zit.; vgl. ebd. S. 170 und D. Baccani, Oroscopi greci. Documentazione papirologica [Ricerca papirologica, 1], Messina 1992, 44). Freilich muß der Kunde nicht zwingend am selben Ort wie der Astrologe gelebt haben, doch ist dies auf jeden Fall wahrscheinlich. Auch bei den Ilias-Rollen P.Lond.Lit. 11 gibt es immerhin ein Indiz für Hermupolis, auch diesmal, wie bei Aristoteles, im dokumentarischen Text der Vorderseite:28 Der Großteil des Δ steht auf dem Verso eines älteren Dokuments, welches anhand mancher Ortsnamen aus dem Süden des Landes (Hermonthis) zu stammen scheint. Das Schlußblatt der Rolle aber, welches nicht ursprünglich ist, sondern eine Reparatur darstellt, stammt von einem anderen Dokument. Hier konnte ich den Namen Ἠπιοδώ(ρου) Ἑρμοπολ(ίτου) lesen; das Ethnikon weist in die uns interessierende Metropole, wenn es freilich darüber hinaus nichts garantieren kann (nicht einmal, daß das Stück im Gau abgefaßt wurde). Immerhin scheint mir die Rekonstruktion, daß die Ilias-Rolle, für welche eine aus dem Süden mitgebrachte admini26 27

28

Didymos ist der Urheber der Rechnungen auf der Vorderseite. Ob sie sämtlich dort auch tatsächlich geschrieben wurden, entzieht sich natürlich wie fast immer in solchen Fällen einem sicheren Urteil. In Zusammenhang mit dem Anonymus Londiniensis ist diskutiert worden, ob er außerhalb Ägyptens geschrieben haben könnte, s. A. Ricciardetto, La lettre de Marc Antoine (SB I 4224) écrite au verso de l’Anonyme de Londres (P. Brit. Libr. inv. 137 = MP3 2339), in: APF 58, 2012, 43–60, 47–48 und 53–60. Die Bedeutung ihrer Untersuchung hat bereits Messeri, PLitLond 131, 26, betont. Das Folgende basiert auf Autopsie in der British Library; eine längere Diskussion mancher hier nur angedeuteten Probleme wird man in meinem oben, S. 248 erwähnten Buch finden (v.a. in den Kapiteln „Sammelrollen mit mehreren Werken oder Werkbüchern“ und „Reparaturen am Textträger im Zuge der Wiederverwendung oder später“).

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strative Rolle gebraucht worden war,29 im Hermopolites (vielleicht in Hermupolis) gelesen, beschädigt und mit „lokalem“ Material repariert wurde, durchaus glaubhaft zu sein. 15.5 BUDGE UND DIE AΘΗΝΑIΩΝ ΠΟΛΙΤΕIΑ Es gibt keinen Grund zu glauben, daß bereits Budge selbst die Aristoteles-Rollen als Objekte vom Rest des ihm von den Findern übergebenen Materials unterschieden hätte. Er sondert zwar in der Erwerbungsliste auf S. 137 des zweiten Bandes seines bereits öfter zitierten Werkes die drei (!) Rollen des Aristoteles von allen weiteren griechischen Volumina jener Mission ab, aber wie bereits gesagt (Abschnitt 15.2) doch wohl bloß ex euentu und auf Grund der größeren Wichtigkeit – wie er auch sonst immer nur von der Anschaffung des Aristoteles redet (nur einmal nennt er daneben auch den Herodas, Bd. II, 326). Daß er sich nicht die Mühe gegeben hat, anhand von Inventaren, Katalogen und Publikationen genau nachzuverfolgen, was jener Ankauf von 1889/1890 daneben enthalten hat, wird ihm niemand verdenken. Daher glaube ich auch nicht, daß aus Budges Formulierungen Schlüsse zum Originalzustand dieses Teils des Fundes zu gewinnen sind. Wie bereits hervorgehoben, spricht er von drei Rollen (S. 137, 148, Anm. 1), während es ja bekanntlich deren vier gibt. Bastianini, Luogo, 77–78, versucht mit großer Vorsicht, hieraus einen möglichen Anhaltspunkt für die Beantwortung der Frage zu gewinnen, von welchem der vier Volumina das Stück stammte, dessen von Kenyon noch rechtzeitig (vor der Publikation) entdecktes Fehlen Budge zwang, sich erneut nach Ägypten zu begeben, um danach zu suchen, wiederum mit Erfolg (s. oben, S. 256–257): Er meint, Budge könnte die fragmentarischen Überreste der dritten und der vierten Rolle als Einheit aufgefaßt haben. Hierfür sieht er in den Messungen eine Stütze, die Budge, By Nile and Tigris, Bd. II, 148, Anm. 1, für seine dritte Rolle bietet: „The official description of the papyrus is as follows: Papyrus CXXXI. Recto. Accompt-book of Didymus, son of Aspasius, farm bailiff to Epimachus, son of Polydeuces, in the neighbourhood of Hermopolis, giving his receipts and expenditure for the 11th year of the Emperor Vespasian (a.d. 78–79), 3 rolls, 7 ft. 2 ½ in., 5 ft. 5 in., 3 ft. 11 in. Verso Ἀθηναίων πολιτεία. Late first or early second century. See Greek Papyri in the British Museum, p. 166 ff., and Kenyon, Aristotle on the Constitution of Athens, 3rd edit., 1892.“ Die Angabe der Länge (3 ft. 11 in.), höher als die der tatsächlichen dritten Rolle, niedriger als die von dritter und vierter Rolle zusammen, könnte sich (so Bastianini zit.) auf die zunächst in Budges Hände gekommenen Überreste des dritten und vierten τόμος, eben ohne das noch fehlende Stück, beziehen. Sicherlich hat Budge die Rollen nicht selbst gemessen – dies würde eine intensive Beschäftigung mit dem Material bedeuten, welche wir anzunehmen keinen 29

Das Phänomen ist im Material aus Oxyrhynchos mehrmals bezeugt. Vgl. etwa E. G. Turner, Greek Papyri: An Introduction, Oxford 1980, 90; die Frage werde ich in einem der späteren Bände der oben genannten Untersuchung behandeln.

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Grund haben. Er gibt ja die Maße ausdrücklich als Teil einer „official description“ an. Ich glaube, es handelt sich bei dem eben im Wortlaut zitierten Passus um eine verkürzte und versehentlich leicht entstellte Wiedergabe des Eintrags in: Catalogue of Additions to the Manuscripts in the British Museum in the Years MDCCCLXXXVIII.–MDCCCXCIII., London 1894, S. 393: „Pap. CXXXI. Recto. Accompt-book of Didymus, son of Aspasius, farmbailiff to Epimachus, son of Polydeuces, in the neighbourhood of Hermopolis, giving his receipts and expenditure for the 11th year of the emperor Vespasian [a.d. 78–79]. Imperfect, the papyrus having been cut … In its present state the papyrus is divided into three rolls, measuring 7 ft. 2½ in., 5 ft. 5 in., and 3 ft. in length, and 11 in. in height. … Printed in Greek Papyri in the British Museum, pp. 166–188. Verso. Aristotle on the Constitution of Athens (Ἀθηναίων πολιτεία). The three rolls above mentioned are here numbered α, β, and γ τόμος. … The papyrus is much rubbed in places, and there are considerable lacunae in the third roll. Late 1st or early 2nd cent. Printed in Aristotle on the Constitution of Athens, ed. F. G. Kenyon (1891, 3rd ed. 1892), with facsimile of the whole in a separate atlas.“ Budge scheint hierbei zwei seiner nicht seltenen Flüchtigkeitsfehler begangen zu haben: Aus der Angabe „3 ft. in length, and 11 in. in height“ hat er „3 ft. 11 in.“ gemacht; und, was wichtiger ist, er hat den nächsten Eintrag auf derselben Seite des Catalogue übersehen, in welchem die gesondert inventarisierte vierte Rolle erst Erwähnung findet: „Pap. CXXXI*. Recto. Accompt-book of the same Didymus for the preceding year, the 10th of Vespasian … Much mutilated and in bad condition; originally measured about 3 ft. in length and 10 in. in height. … On the verso is the concluding portion of Aristotle’s Ἀθηναίων πολιτεία (cols. 31–37), this having formed the fourth roll of that work. …“ Ich meine also, daß Budge nur aus Versehen und nicht aus eigener Anschauung von drei Rollen des Aristoteles spricht. In diesem Zusammenhang ist auch auf eine Bemerkung von G. B. D’Alessio aufmerksam zu machen: In seinem Aufsatz Danni materiali e ricostruzione di rotoli papiracei: le Elleniche di Ossirinco (POxy 842) e altri esempi, in: ZPE 134, 2001, 23–41, kommt er auf S. 37–38 auch auf diesen Papyrus zu sprechen. Er verfolgt eine Reihe von Beschädigungen, die erlitten worden sein dürften, als der erste τόμος im Innersten lag, der zweite um diesen und der dritte um den zweiten gewickelt war (mehr zu der Bedeutung dieser Beobachtungen in meinem oben, S. 248 zitierten Buch). Daß dies der letzte Zustand der Rollen war, in welchem sie auch entsorgt, verlassen oder begraben wurden, ist zwar keine zwingende, aber doch die wahrscheinlichste Auffassung. Es könnte also sein, daß die Finder und Budge nicht einmal sehen konnten, daß es sich bei Aristoteles um mehr als eine Rolle handelte.30 30

Etwas Ähnliches nimmt Bastianini selbst in Zusammenhang mit dem ebenfalls von Budge im Jahre 1896 für das British Museum erworbenen Bakchylides-Papyrus (P.Lond.Lit. 46; M.–P.3 175) an: Anders als beim Kauf von 1889 hatte Budge hier Gelegenheit, sich den Papyrus in Ägypten näher anzuschauen; in seinem lebhaften Bericht darüber (By Nile and Tigris II, 345– 348 und 350–355) spricht er von einer Rolle, während es Indizien dafür gibt, daß es sich um zwei solche gehandelt haben könnte. Sein Zeugnis versucht Bastianini folgendermaßen zu relativieren, Tipologie dei rotoli e problemi di ricostruzione, in: PapLup 4, 1995, 21–42, 38: „il

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Was den vierten τόμος anlangt, so schließt D’Alessio hier zögernd auf Grund der Beschädigungen, daß er nicht um die drei anderen gewickelt war, wie man erwartet hätte, ferner, daß das ursprüngliche Verso mit dem Aristoteles immer noch die Außenseite der Rolle bildete. Vielleicht stellte die vierte Rolle ursprünglich die äußersten Lagen des Konvoluts dar, fiel aber eben wegen dieser ungeschützten Position früh auseinander; hierzu paßt gut ihr Erhaltungszustand, der der schlechteste von allen vier τόμοι ist. Die mit dem Fall verbundenen Fragen, v. a. diejenige nach der Außenseite, werde ich in meinem oben, S. 248 erwähnten Buch behandeln. LITERATURLISTE31 Baccani D., Oroscopi greci. Documentazione papirologica (Ricerca papirologica, 1), Messina 1992 Bastianini G., Tipologie dei rotoli e problemi di ricostruzione, in: PapLup 4, 1995, 21–42 Bastianini G., Un luogo di ritrovamento fantasma, in: Atti del II Convegno Nazionale di Egittologia e Papirologia, Siracusa, 1–3 dicembre 1995 (Quaderni dell’Istituto Internazionale del Papiro, 7), Siracusa 1996, 69–84 Bell H. I., Egypt from Alexander the Great to the Arab Conquest. A Study in the Diffusion and Decay of Hellenism. Being the Gregynog Lectures for 1946, Oxford 1948 Blass Fr., Hyperidis orationes sex cum ceterarum fragmentis (Teubner), Leipzig 31894 [The British Museum], Catalogue of Additions to the Manuscripts in the British Museum in the Years MDCCCLXXXVIII.–MDCCCXCIII., London 1894 Budge E. A. W., By Nile and Tigris. A Narrative of Journeys in Egypt and Mesopotamia on Behalf of the British Museum between the Years 1886 and 1913, 2 Bde, London 1920 Budge E. A. W., Cook’s Handbook for Egypt and the Egyptian Sûdân; with Chapters on Egyptian Archaeology, London 41921 Coles R. A. – C. Gallazzi, Papyri and Ostraka: Alterations and Counterfeits, in: E. Bresciani u.a. (Hg.), Scritti in onore di Orsolina Montevecchi, Bologna 1981, 99–105

31

rotolo dei Ditirambi, in effetti, poteva trovarsi avvolto all’interno del rotolo degli Epinici, così che a un osservatore frettoloso potevano dare l’impressione di essere uno solo; potrebbe essere verosimile che Wallis Budge non si accorgesse di questo, neanche quando li fece a pezzi per poterli trafugare dall’Egitto. Forse i due rotoli, già in qualche misura mutili, erano stati inseriti l’uno dentro l’altro, come cosa che non interessava più, o che comunque si pensava di non maneggiare ulteriormente.“ Zu einer ähnlichen Vermutung nimmt auch Smith, Budge at Akhmim, 294–295, in Zusammenhang mit den von Budge 1896 erworbenen demotischen Papyri BM 10507 und 10508 seine Zuflucht: „It is only in connection with these last two items that any real discrepancy exists between the earlier and later reports of Budge. The first mentions one demotic papyrus; the second speaks of two. Presumably, the manuscripts in question had been found and purchased rolled or somehow wrapped up together. It is difficult to imagine any other way in which they could have been mistaken for a single thick roll of papyrus. In this connection, it is worth remembering that Budge’s second report, unlike the first, was written after his purchases had actually arrived back in England, when there would have been an opportunity to inspect them more closely and ascertain the true state of affairs regarding the papyri.“ Für die Abkürzungen der Papyruseditionen im Text s. die Checklist of Editions of Greek, Latin, Demotic, and Coptic Papyri, Ostraca and Tablets (http://library.duke.edu/rubenstein/scriptorium/papyrus/texts/clist.html). M.-P.3 ist der ebenfalls online einsehbare Katalog literarischer Papyri Mertens – Pack3, Catalogue des papyrus littéraires grecs et latins (http://promethee. philo.ulg.ac.be/cedopal/index.htm).

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Cuvigny H., The Finds of Papyri: The Archaeology of Papyrology, in: R. S. Bagnall (Hg.), The Oxford Handbook of Papyrology, Oxford 2009, 30–58 D’Alessio G. B., Danni materiali e ricostruzione di rotoli papiracei: le Elleniche di Ossirinco (POxy 842) e altri esempi, in: ZPE 134, 2001, 23–41 Del Corso L., L’Athenaion Politeia (P. Lond. Lit. 108) e la sua ‘biblioteca’: libri e mani nella chora egizia, in: D. Bianconi – L. Del Corso (Hg.), Oltre la scrittura. Variazioni sul tema per Guglielmo Cavallo (Dossiers byzantins, 8), Paris 2008, 13–52 Gallazzi, C., I falsi rotoli dell’Acerbi, P.Paris 3 ter e P.Lond.Lit. 13, in: ZPE 112, 1996, 183–188 Hagedorn D. – K. A. Worp, Das Wandeljahr im römischen Ägypten, in: ZPE 104, 1994, 243–255 Harrauer H. – A. Papathomas, Griechische ptolemäische Papyri aus “Totenbuchröllchen” in Graz, in: Aegyptus 86, 2006, 119–137 Kenyon F. G., Classical Texts from Papyri in the British Museum; Including the Newly Discovered Poems of Herodas, Oxford 1891 Kenyon F. G., Nouveaux fragments d’Hérodas, in: RPh 15, 1891, 162–167 Kenyon F. G., Aristotelis Res publica Atheniensium (Supplementum Aristotelicum, III.2), Berlin 1903 Kenyon F. G., Hyperidis orationes et fragmenta (Scriptorum Classicorum bibliotheca Oxoniensis), Oxford 1907 Kenyon F. G., Aristotelis Atheniensium Respublica (Scriptorum Classicorum bibliotheca Oxoniensis), Oxford 1920 Kenyon F. G., The Library of a Greek of Oxyrhynchus, in: JEA 8, 1922, 129–138 Kenyon F. G., Ancient Books and Modern Discoveries, Chicago 1927 Kenyon F. G., Fifty Years of Papyrology, in: Actes du Ve Congrès International de Papyrologie, Oxford, 30 août – 3 septembre 1937, Bruxelles 1938, 1–11 Manetti D., Proposte di collocazione di due frammenti in PBritLibr inv. 137 (Anonimo Londinese) e nuove letture, in: I. Andorlini (Hg.), ‘Specimina’ per il Corpus dei Papiri Greci di Medicina. Atti dell’Incontro di studio, Firenze, 28–29 marzo 1996, Firenze 1997, 141–152 Manfredi M., L’Athenaion Politeia di Aristotele e i papiri, in: A. H. S. El-Mosallamy (Hg.), Proceedings of the XIXth International Congress of Papyrology. Cairo, 2–9 September 1989, Cairo 1992, Bd. I, 447–460 Martin A., Heurs et malheurs d’un manuscrit. Deux notes à propos du papyrus d’Hérondas, in: ZPE 139, 2002, 22–26 Martin A. – O. Primavesi, L’Empédocle de Strasbourg (P. Strasb. gr. Inv. 1665 – 1666), Berlin – New York 1999 Messeri G., PLitLond 131: Isocrates, «De pace», in: Studi sulla tradizione del testo di Isocrate (STCPF, 12), Firenze 2003, 21–54 Mosher M., The Papyrus of Hor (BM EA 10479), with Papyrus MacGregor: The Late Period Tradition at Akhmim, Bd. II von: Catalogue of the Books of the Dead in the British Museum, London 2001 Neugebauer O. – H. B. Van Hoesen, Greek Horoscopes (American Philosophical Society, Memoirs, 48), Philadelphia 1959 Oldfather Ch. H., The Greek Literary Texts from Greco-Roman Egypt. A Study in the History of Civilization (University of Wisconsin Studies in the Social Sciences and History, 9), Madison 1923 Pack R. A., The Greek and Latin Literary Texts from Greco-Roman Egypt (University of Michigan, General Library Publications, 8), Ann Arbor 1952 Pack R. A., The Greek and Latin Literary Texts from Greco-Roman Egypt, Ann Arbor 21965 Ricciardetto A., La lettre de Marc Antoine (SB I 4224) écrite au verso de l’Anonyme de Londres (P.Brit. Libr. inv. 137 = MP3 2339), in: APF 58, 2012, 43–60 Sayce A. H., Letter from Egypt, in: The Academy, Nr. 937, 19. April 1890, S. 273 Sayce A. H., A Fragment of a Lost Greek Poet, in: The Academy, Nr. 962, 11. Oktober 1890, S. 319 Sayce A. H., Reminiscences, London 1923 Schubart Fr., Von Wüste, Nil und Sonne, Berlin 1922

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Smith M., Budge at Akhmim, January 1896, in: Ch. Eyre u.a. (Hg.), The Unbroken Reed. Studies in the Culture and Heritage of Ancient Egypt in Honour of A. F. Shore (The Egypt Exploration Society, Occasional Publications, 11), London 1994, 293–303 Turner E. G., Greek Papyri: An Introduction, Oxford 1980 (Erstedition 1968, hier mit Add.) Weil H., Fragment iambique inédit, rapporté par M. Sayce, in: REG 3, 1890, 309–310

16 PRISCIAN ON THE DISTINCTION BETWEEN ADVERBS AND CONJUNCTIONS Pierre Swiggers / Alfons Wouters Abstract Books XIV, XV and XVI of Priscian’s Institutiones grammaticae deal with the indeclinable parts of speech: the preposition, the adverb, and the conjunction. In dealing with these three word classes Priscian shows his concern with defining their respective boundaries, which is a problematic issue given the absence of a one-toone correspondence between the nature of a class and the use of (some of) its members. An interesting case is constituted by quando, discussed by Priscian in Book XV. This word can function as an adverb or as a conjunction; Priscian’s argumentation in distinguishing between these two uses is examined here in detail. The late Ioannis Taifacos had an intimate knowledge of both Greek and Latin grammaticography and lexicography, and was specifically interested in the process of translatio studiorum, from the Greek to the Latin world, as well as from classical scholarship to later periods of humanistic learning.1 As a tribute to the memory of Ioannis we would like to offer this brief study on that great Latin grammarian active in Constantinople, Priscian [fl. early 6th century], who was a mediating figure between the Greek and the Latin world, and a “go-between” in the transition from ancient to medieval scholarship. Our study will focus on a problematic topic in Priscian’s Institutiones grammaticae,2 more particularly in the books dealing with the indeclinable parts of speech.

1 2

Cf. I. Taifacos (ed.), The Origins of European Scholarship. The Cyprus Millennium International Conference, Wiesbaden 2005. We use the text of the Institutiones grammaticae published in H. Keil (ed.), Grammatici Latini ex recensione H. Keilii, Lipsiae 1855–1880, volumes 2 and 3 [henceforth abbreviated as “G.L.”, followed by the volume number and page number; in addition, we add the reference to the “Book” (XIV/XV/XVI), followed by page number and lines, in order to facilitate comparison with M. Baratin et al., Priscien: Grammaire. Livres XIV, XV, XVI – Les invariables. Texte latin, traduction introduite et annotée par le Groupe Ars grammatica, Paris 2013]. On Priscian’s life and work, and his intellectual heritage, see the various contributions in M. Baratin et al. (eds.), Priscien: transmission et réformation de la grammaire, de l’Antiquité aux Modernes, Turnhout 2009.

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16.1 PRISCIAN’S TREATMENT OF THE INDECLINABLE PARTS OF SPEECH Books XIV, XV and XVI3 of the Institutiones grammaticae deal with the indecli­ nabilia,4 a group of word classes which Priscian opposes to the declinabilia, positively defined as words presenting an inflection. As appears from the beginning of Book XIV, Priscian (a) perceives the commonality between the indeclinabilia in terms of a negative, defective property (sine illis [sc. declinabilibus] sententiam complere non possunt),5 and (b) advances a justification why he treats the indecli­ nabilia in the order preposition – adverb – conjunction: the preposition can be used either in “adposition” (appositio) or in composition (compositio). Due to its possible incorporation into the inflected word classes, and through its use as a relational marker on the other hand, the preposition has a twofold status which is missing in the two other indeclinable parts of speech, the adverb6 and the conjunction. Although this is not explicitly stated by Priscian, the preposition may have been seen 3

4

5

6

The books on the preposition, the adverb and the conjunction have recently been translated into French by the Groupe Ars grammatica (cf. Baratin et al., Priscien: Grammaire. Livres XIV, XV, XVI – Les invariables); the books on the preposition and the conjunction have also been translated, with explanatory notes, into German by A. Schönberger, Priscians Darstellung der lateinischen Präpositionen: lateinischer Text und kommentierte deutsche Übersetzung des 14. Buches der Institutiones Grammaticae, Frankfurt am Main 2008; Priscians Darstellung der lateinischen Konjunktionen: lateinischer Text und kommentierte deutsche Übersetzung des 16. Buches der Institutiones Grammaticae, Frankfurt am Main 2010. We prefer to translate Priscian’s term indeclinabilia as “indeclinable” rather than as “invariable”. The latter translation, although not inaccurate, has two disadvantages: (a) it is less literal, and (b) it bypasses the complicating fact that some of the indeclinable parts of speech are “variable” (for phonotactic reasons, or – in the case of the adverbs – because of taking degrees of comparison). G.L. 3, 24 = Book XIV 24.2–5: Quoniam de omnibus, ut potui, declinabilibus supra disserui, id est de nomine et verbo et participio et pronomine, nunc ad indeclinabilia veniam, quae iure extrema ponuntur: ea enim sine illis sententiam complere non possunt, illa vero sine istis saepissime complent. [Translation: “Since, so far, I have dealt, as well as I could, with all the declinable parts of speech, viz. the noun, the verb, the participle, and the pronoun, I will now turn to the indeclinable parts of speech, which are quite appropriately put at the end; as a matter of fact, while they cannot constitute a full sentence without the first ones [= the declinable parts of speech], these in turn very often constitute a full sentence without them [= the indeclinable]”] As well-known, Priscian, following the Greek model, treats the interjection as a subclass of the adverbs, although he is perfectly aware of the fact that other Latin grammarians consider the interjection to be a separate part of speech. Cf. G.L. 3, 90 = Book XV 90.6–12: Interiectionem Graeci inter adverbia ponunt, quoniam haec quoque vel adiungitur verbis vel verba ei subaudiuntur, ut si dicam papae, quid video?, vel per se papae, etiamsi non addatur miror, habet in se ipsius verbi significationem. Quae res maxime fecit, Romanarum artium scriptores separatim hanc partem ab adverbiis accipere, quia videtur affectum habere in se verbi et plenam motus animi significationem, etiamsi non addatur verbum, demonstrare. [Translation: “The Greeks put the interjection under the adverb since it also combines with verbs or verbs are implied by it, as when I say oh! what do I see?, or saying merely oh!, even without adding “I am amazed”, involves the meaning of this verb. But this is precisely why the authors of Latin grammar books consider this part of speech to be separate from the adverbs, because it seems to contain in itself

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as the part of speech that stands closest to the declinabilia, because of its possible integration (as a “prefix”)7 into the latter type of words. Whatever may have been the implied reasoning, Priscian appeals to the authority of the “most learned” Greek authors (and most prominently, Apollonius Dyscolus [c. 110–175 A.D.]) when he speaks of the first place accorded to the preposition among the indeclinable word classes: Itaque cum mihi bene videantur praepositionem ceteris indeclinabilibus Graecorum doctissimi praeposuisse, et maxime Apollonius, cuius auctoritatem in omnibus sequendam putavi, ego quoque ab ea incipiam. Nomini enim, quae principalis est omnium orationis partium, et ceteris quae casus ad nominis similitudinem sumunt, praeposita vim potest sibi dictionis defendere, aliis vero, id est carentibus casu, adiuncta unitur cum eis iusque dictionis proprium perdit. (G.L. 3, 24 = Book XIV 24. 5–12) “Therefore, as it seems to me the right thing that the most learned among the Greeks, and especially Apollonius, whose authority I have decided to follow in all matters, have given the lead to the preposition with respect to the other indeclinable parts of speech I too will start with it. As a matter of fact, when it is pre-posed to the noun, which is the principal of all parts of speech, or to the other parts of speech which have cases after the example of the noun, the preposition can claim the value of a word; when it is joined to the other parts of speech which lack cases, it constitutes a single unit with them and it loses the proper status of a word”

The twofold “integrational” status of prepositions, which can either occur in “apposition”/juxtaposition or in composition,8 is taken up again by Priscian further on in Book XIV, precisely because Greek and Latin are quite distinct with regard to this phenomenon;9 whereas Greek allows the twofold status for all its “pre-posed” elements, Latin presents a more complicated picture: some prepositions can occur as prepositions and prefixes, others (e.g. di(s)-, re-, se- …) occur only as prefixes, and still others occur only as “full” prepositions, never in composition with another (word)base. Interestingly, the latter subclass raises the problem of the distinction between respective word classes.10

7 8

9 10

the affect expressed by the verb and to express the full meaning of the soul’s emotion, even when the verb is not added”] Their occurrence as some kind of “suffix” in the case of forms such as mecum, tecum etc., is considered by Priscian to be an instance of the “adpositional” or juxtapositional use of the preposition. G.L. 3, 24 = Book XIV 24.13–14: Est igitur praepositio pars orationis indeclinabilis quae praeponitur aliis partibus vel appositione vel compositione. [Translation: “The preposition is thus an indeclinable part of speech which is pre-posed to other parts of speech either by ‘adposition’ or by composition”] Differences between Latin and Greek prepositions (or adverbs!) are also discussed by Priscian in G.L. 3, 28–29 = Book XIV 28.20 – 29.14. G.L. 3, 56 = Book XIV 56.8–10: sunt quae numquam componuntur, ut apud, citra, circa, erga, extra, infra, iuxta, pone, prope, secundum, ultra, supra, quorum pleraque adverbiorum vim habent, ut ostendimus. [Translation: “There are some which never enter into a composition, like apud, citra, circa, erga, extra, infra, iuxta, pone, prope, secundum, ultra, supra, most of which have the value of adverbs, as we have shown”]

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16.2 PRISCIAN’S CONCERN WITH DRAWING BOUNDARIES One of Priscian’s major concerns, in line with the approach of his principal source, Apollonius Dyscolus, is the question of how to define the boundaries of the various parts of speech. This is particularly manifest in the sections dealing with the indeclinable word classes. At the beginning of Book XIV on the preposition, Priscian undertakes the task of delimiting the preposition with respect to the conjunction (the latter does not enter into a composition, except in the case of the indefinite forms siqua and nequa) and of delimiting the preposition with respect to the adverb, which is a more intricate problem.11 In the case of the adverb, the issue turns up, not as a general problem, but on the occasion of the status of quando. We will turn to this problem in the following section. Finally, in dealing with the conjunction, Priscian is confronted with a fundamental problem of language description, viz. the absence of a one-to-one correspondence between the (morphosyntactic) nature of a word class and the (syntactic-discursive) use of (members of) a word class. In other words: Priscian struggles there with the (at times loose) relation between form and function. In the case of the “conjunction”, Priscian observes that a ‘conjunctive/conjoining’ function — e.g. causality, opposition (or oppositeness) — can be expressed not only by conjunctions proper, but also by words which by nature belong to other word classes:12 Inveniuntur tamen nomina vel pronomina vel etiam praepositiones vel adverbia quae loco causalium accipiuntur coniunctionum: pronomina, ut ideo, eo; nomina, qua causa, qua gratia, qua propter, quam ob rem et quas ob res. Ne quoque, quando ἵνα μή significat, coniunctio est causalis […] Invenitur tamen etiam verbum pro adversativa coniunctione cum adverbio, ut quamvis pro quamquam et pro etsi, quomodo et licet et licebit. (G.L. 3, 95–96 = Book XVI 95.23 – 96.2; 96.14–16). “However, one finds nouns, pronouns, and even prepositions or adverbs that are used instead of causal conjunctions; pronouns such as ideo, eo [‘for this reason’], nouns such as qua causa, qua gratia, qua propter, quam ob rem and quas ob res [‘for this/these reason(s)’]. And ne, when it has the meaning of ἵνα μή is also a causal conjunction. […] One even finds a verb used with the meaning of an adversative conjunction, in combination with an adverb, as quamvis for quam­ quam and for etsi; and likewise licet and licebit”

This “problematizing” approach, focusing on problems of demarcation, contrasts with the firm stand taken concerning the accidentia of the parts of speech in question. For the preposition, Priscian does not present a list of accidentia, but he offers an extensive analysis of their case-government under the heading “De potestate praepositionum” (G.L. 3, 35–56 = Book XIV 35.4 – 56.3), and one could also consider the twofold morphosyntactic behaviour (“adposition”/ juxtaposition next to 11 12

Cf. the extensive discussion in G.L. 3, 25–27 = Book XIV 25.27 – 27.3. At least this is the way Priscian conceives the issue; as a matter of fact, one can note that Priscian does not go into a detailed analysis of synthetic formations and locutions that constitute the “conjunction”.

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composition) as an accidens.13 Otherwise, it seems that the preposition is defined by its grammatical “essence”, which happens to be its place (or positioning); as Priscian judiciously points out, it is the only word class defined by its locus.14 In the case of the adverb and the conjunction Priscian clearly identifies their defining ac­ cidentia: (a) the adverb has three explicitly mentioned accidentia, to which further on a fourth is added: – species; significatio; figura [cf. G.L. 3, 63 = Book XV 63.6,15 and the subsequent detailed treatment] – ordo [cf. G.L. 3, 89 = Book XV 89.14,16 with subsequent treatment]

(b) the conjunction has two explicitly mentioned accidentia, to which a third is immediately added: – figura; species; ordo [cf. G.L. 3, 93 = Book XVI 93.9–10: Accidunt igitur coniunctioni figura et species, quam alii potestatem nominant, quae est in significatione coniunctionum, praeterea ordo]. “The accidents of the conjunction are figura and species, which some call capacity, which consists in the meaning of the conjunctions, and further the sequential order”

Also, as regards the semantic subclasses of adverbs and conjunctions Priscian avoids a “problematizing” stand: he straightforwardly enumerates the various “species”17 of meanings. 13

14

15 16 17

On the other hand, it would be, in our view, inaccurate to consider significatio as an accidens of the preposition: Priscian aligns himself with the Greek grammarians in adopting the principle that prepositions lack a determinate meaning (since they have a flexible meaning, which becomes specific within the broader syntactic context: cf. G.L. 3, 30 = Book XIV 30.14–15), and in the rare cases where prepositions seem to have a determinate meaning, Priscian favours the view that they are in fact adverbs (e.g., supra, infra, extra, pone; cf. G.L. 3, 30–31 = Book XIV 30.25 – 31.4). Iure igitur sola haec pars, id est praepositio, a loco, quem proprium possidet, nomen accepit (G.L. 3, 31 = Book XIV 31.10–11). [Translation: “It is therefore right that only this part of speech, viz. the preposition, has received its name from its place, which is its proper feature”] On the definition of the preposition in ancient Latin grammaticography, see J. M. Santiago Ángel, Las definiciones de preposición en los gramáticos latinos: coherencia y aportaciones, in: Fortunatae 8, 1996, 283–308. Accidit autem adverbio species, significatio, figura (G.L. 3, 63 = Book XV 63.6). [Translation: “The accidents of the adverb are species, significatio, and figura”] De ordine quoque adverbiorum quaeritur (…). [Translation: “The question to be asked about the place of the adverbs is (whether …)”] In the case of the adverbs, the term species is used to refer to the meaning classes falling under the accidens of the significatio; in the case of the conjunctions, the term species is used both as the “hyperonym” designating the accidens (which Priscian also gloses as potestas and significatio: “species quam alii potestatem nominant, quae est in significatione coniunctionum”) and also as the “hyponym” referring to the various meaning classes: Species sunt: copulativa, continuativa, subcontinuativa, adiunctiva, causalis, effectiva, approbativa, disiunctiva, subdisiunctiva, disertiva, ablativa, praesumptiva, adversativa, abnegativa, collectiva vel rationalis, dubita-

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The lists offered by Priscian for meanings of both the adverbs and the conjunctions could be made the object of an extensive study, from the point of view of their insertion within the various phases of ancient Greek and Latin grammaticography (and its treatment of both word classes), as well as from the point of view of the terminology used by Priscian (e.g., in comparison with his Latin predecessors).18 In a more global way, the (definitional) approach and the descriptive treatment of both word classes in Priscian’s Institutiones deserve a comprehensive analysis.19 Our aim, within the limits imposed on the length of this contribution, is a more modest one: focusing on a single passage at the beginning of Priscian’s treatment of the semantic species of the adverb, we would like to offer some reflections on the underlying dimension of Priscian’s description. 16.3 THE CASE OF QUANDO An interesting issue in this respect is Priscian’s discussion of quando in Book XV on the adverbs. Priscian starts by treating quando as a temporal20 adverb, of unspecified meaning (“one day, once”), and immediately associates with the simple form the compound adverbs aliquando,21 siquando and nequando: Quando quoque simplex et ex eo composita omnia, aliquando, siquando, nequando, quae et infinitae sunt et antepaenultimo acuto proferuntur (G.L. 3, 82 = Book XV 82.21–23).

18

19

20

21

tiva, completiva (G.L. 3, 93 = Book XVI 93.13–16); for a translation and discussion of this passage, see infra. For a terminological inventory and a brief terminological description, see S. Schad, A Lexicon of Latin Grammatical Terminology, Pisa, 2007; cf. P. Swiggers, review article on S. Schad, A Lexicon of Latin Grammatical Terminology, in: Bryn Mawr Classical Review [electronic journal], February 2009. For detailed historiographical treatments of the analysis and approach of the adverb, see the various contributions in S. Matthaios – A. Kärne (eds.), Das Adverb in der Grammatikographie, Teil I (= Beiträge zur Geschichte der Sprachwissenschaft, 17.1), Münster 2007, and for the conjunction, see C. F. Jahn, Grammaticorum Graecorum de coniunctionibus doctrina, Greifswald 1847; A. Sancho Royo, Aproximación al sistema conjuncional griego desde la perspectiva de los gramáticos antiguos, in: Habis 15, 1984, 95–116; M. A. Gutiérrez Galindo, Las definiciones de conjunción en los gramáticos latinos: un capítolo importante en la historia de la sintaxis, in: Revista española de lingüística 19, 1989, 389–419; M. Baratin, La naissance de la syntaxe à Rome, Paris 1989; P. Swiggers – A. Wouters, The syndesmos in Ancient Grammar: Grammatical Status and Subtypes, in: B. Caron (ed.), Proceedings of the 16th International Congress of Linguists, 20–25 July 1997, Oxford 1998. For a discussion of the content to be given to the term σύνδεσμος in Aristotle’s Poetics, cf. P. Swiggers – A. Wouters, Grammatical Theory in Aristotle’s Poetics, chapter XX, in: P. Swiggers – A. Wouters (eds.), Grammatical Theory and Philosophy of Language in Antiquity, Leuven – Paris 2002, 101–120. Cf. the beginning of the treatment of the (semantic) species of adverbs: Sunt enim temporalia (G.L. 3, 80–81 = Book XV 80.30 – 81.1), which is followed by the enumeration (with exemplification) of adverbs referring to the past, to the present, or to both, to the future, or to several time periods. After the temporalia, Priscian discusses the localia (starting G.L. 3, 83 = Book XV 83.9), and then a long list of other semantic (-pragmatic) species. Aliquando had already been mentioned before by Priscian as an adverb referring to the fluctuating present (viz. a present expressing impatience or expressing the expectation of a change).

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“There is also the simple form quando, and from this all the compounds aliquando, siquando, nequando, which are in(de)finite and pronounced with the acute accent on the antepenultimate”

In the immediately following passage Priscian devotes an extensive discussion to the form quando. Two points are of particular interest here: (1), first, the fact that Priscian proceeds to define the various semantic-pragmatic values of quando as an adverb, pointing out that there is a prosodic correlation involved in the distinction between an interrogative and an affirmative (or non-interrogative) use; (2) the fact that Priscian admits a transitional use of quando as a conjunction. The justification for speaking of “transitional use” lies, in our view, in Priscian’s formulation by means of the expressions invenitur … pro and accipitur, a terminology which refers to linguistic usage. We will first quote the passage, and then comment upon it. Quando autem et interrogativum et relativum est et infinitum.22 Interrogativum, ut quando ve­ nisti ?; relativum, ut quando eram iuvenis, peccavi; infinitum, quando veniam, faciam. Accentu tamen discernitur, quomodo et nomina interrogativa et relativa. Invenitur tamen etiam pro ali­ quando et pro causali coniunctione: Vergilius in X [sc. Aeneidos, 366–367): aspera quis natura loci dimittere quando suasit equos quando dixit pro aliquando; idem in I Aeneidos [sc. 261]: hic tibi, fabor enim quando haec te cura remordet, quando pro quoniam accipitur (G.L. 3, 82–83 = Book XV 82.24 – 83.8) “Quando is interrogative, ‘relative’ (anaphorical) and in(de)finite. Interrogative as in quando venisti ? [when did you come ?], relative (anaphorical) as in quando eram iuvenis, peccavi [when I was young, I sinned/erred], in(de)finite as in quando veniam, faciam [when I will come, I will take action]. What makes the difference, however, is the accent, as likewise for the interrogative and relative (anaphorical) nouns. But one finds also quando used instead of aliquando, and as a causal conjunction; e.g. Virgil in book X [of the Aeneis]: the roughness of the soil compelled them to leave their horses for once where quando is used for aliquando; and in Aeneis, book I: listen, as I will speak, given that this worry troubles you where quando is used for quoniam”

In discussing the values of quando, Priscian recognizes three distinct meanings or functions: an “interrogative” one, a “relative” one, and an “infinite” one. The basic distinction is that between “interrogative” vs. the two others, as is clear from Priscian’s remark on distinctive accentuation. While Priscian does not elaborate on the distinction between quando “relativum” and quando “infinitum”, nor on the 22

G. Bonnet, Coniunctiones an adverbia? Une confusion dans le classement des parties du discours chez les artigraphes latins, in: F. Poli – G. Vottéro (eds.), De Cyrène à Catherine: trois mille ans de Libyennes. Études grecques et latines offertes à Catherine Dobias-Lalou, Nancy – Paris 2005, 289–299, 291 in quoting this text supplies: .

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coupling with distinct moods (and tenses), it is clear that relativum means here “anaphoric” or “referential” (in a general way), whereas infinitum means “in(de)finite, open-ended”. Also, quando “infinitum” functions as a kind of correlative element introducing a clause without autonomous truth-value status, whereas quando “relativum” is an element introducing a clause which has an autonomous truth-value status, apart from that of the main clause (viz. “I was young” and “I sinned/erred”). Both uses of quando, which today we would consider to be “conjunctional”, are treated by Priscian as uses of the adverb quando. Interestingly, Priscian is willing to admit a “conjunctional” use of quando, but only in the case of its use as a causal clause-linker, equivalent to quoniam (cf. his formulation: Invenitur tamen […] pro causali coniunctione […] quando pro quo­ niam accipitur). How do we have to judge Priscian’s position? In recent years, two different interpretations have been put forward. The first, defended by Baratin,23 consists in adopting a semantic-categorial point of view: adverbs, in Priscian’s approach, are elements linked to the verb as the main predicator in a (simple) proposition, whereas a conjunction is an element linking members of a sentence constituent or referring to a content which is exterior to the one expressed by the main predicator. The second interpretation, advanced by Bonnet,24 consists in adopting a syntactic-constructional point of view: here a conjunction fulfills the role of marking a correlation with a corresponding term in the other clause (e.g., the correlation between quando and enim in Virgil’s verse quoted above: hic tibi, fabor enim, quando haec te cura remordet), whereas adverbs function in the absence of an explicitly marked correlation between elements. In other terms: in case we do not have a type of “mirror” (or “echo”) construction ranging over a full proposition (sententia [perfecta]), we do not deal with conjunctions, but with adverbs. Whereas the two interpretations have different backgrounds (the first is rooted in the Stoic approach of the [simple] utterance; the second is based on the more formal-discursive approach of Apollonius Dyscolus and his followers), and whereas the two interpretations have a different orientation (the first focuses on non-compound sentences as the starting point, the second starts from complex predicative structures), they are not radically25 opposed. Yet, it seems to us that one should try to explain Priscian’s position from within its own proper logic: 23 24

25

See M. Baratin, Le traitement de l’adverbe au-delà du livre XV des IG de Priscien. Les adverbes “génériques” et la distinction entre adverbe et conjonction, in: Histoire Épistémologie Langage 27/2, 2005, 151–165. See G. Bonnet, Coniunctiones an adverbia? Une confusion dans le classement des parties du discours chez les artigraphes latins, in: F. Poli – G. Vottéro (eds.), De Cyrène à Catherine: trois mille ans de Libyennes. Études grecques et latines offertes à Catherine Dobias-Lalou, Nancy – Paris 2005, 289–299, and ID., Les adverbes dans la tradition grammaticale latine avant Priscien, in: Histoire Épistémologie Langage 27/2, 2005, 141–150. Cf. the interesting statement in M. Baratin et al., Priscien: Grammaire. Livres XIV, XV, XVI – Les invariables. Texte latin, traduction introduite et annotée par le Groupe Ars grammatica, Paris 2013, 30: “Ces deux interprétations ne sont pas incompatibles: l’une prend pour cadre l’énoncé simple, l’autre l’énoncé complexe, l’une met l’accent sur la dimension sémantique, l’autre sur la dimension syntaxique, mais les deux points de vue peuvent avoir existé en même

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(1) There is first the simple fact that Priscian, in conformity with the grammatical tradition before him, does not provide a place for a type (or species) of “temporal” conjunctions. His extensive list of species of conjunctions includes connective (copulativa), causal, argumentative, consecutive, and many other types of conjunctions, but there is no room for a “temporal” species. Interestingly, cum is considered to be an “adjunctive” conjunction, and dum as a conjunction is also taken to be “adjunctive”, and thus used with the subjunctive (whereas dum in its “temporal” uses, with the indicative, is seen as an adverb). This is the full list of species of conjunctions as given by Priscian: Species sunt: copulativa, continuativa, subcontinuativa, adiunctiva, causalis, effectiva, approbativa, disiunctiva, subdisiunctiva, disertiva, ablativa, presumptiva, adversativa, abnegativa, collectiva vel rationalis, dubitativa, completiva (G.L. 3, 93 = Book XVI 93.13–16). “The species are: connective, continuative, indicating consequence, “adjunctive”/joined (to the subjunctive mode), causal, inferential (effective), indicating approval, disjunctive, “sub-disjunctive”, expressing a choice/preference, discarding (ablative), anticipatory, adversative, annulling, syllogistic or argumentative, expressing doubt, sentence-filling”

(2) The second point to be made is that for Priscian adverbs “add” their meaning to the verb,26 i.e. adverbs contribute to, are incident to, the predicative structure construed by the verb. This implies that the circumstances under which the factual content signified by the verb (and its arguments) occurs, are expressed by means of “adverbs”. Time and place of occurrence belong thus, by the very nature of their contribution to the meaning and reference of the sentence, in the adverbial domain. This of course also holds for the interrogative use (asking for a reference point, in time), for the anaphoric use (with an explicit temporal marking), and for the indefinite use (setting a reference point by correlation), of quando: quando venisti?; quando eram iuvenis…; quando veniam, …. But in the case where quando is used as an argumentative, explanatory and causal linker (hic tibi, fabor enim, quando

26

temps, voire s’être renforcés l’un l’autre. En tout état de cause, la conjonction est présentée comme un élément qui, dans un énoncé, rattache cet énoncé à autre chose, mais en dehors de toute perspective hiérarchique, de telle façon que dans une suite d’énoncés liés les uns aux autres, il est possible que tous comportent une conjonction, comme c’est le cas précisément dans la séquence hic tibi, fabor enim, quando haec te cura remordet, où les deux énoncés hic tibi, fabor enim et quando haec te cura remordet comportent chacun la conjonction (enim / quando) qui les relie à l’autre. C’est encore ce qui permet à Priscien d’affirmer que les “annulatives” ken et an, grecques, ont pour équivalent en latin le subjonctif seul, par exemple dans fecissem, si potuissem: dans l’esprit de Priscien fecissem et potuissem sont chacun susceptibles d’être reliés à l’autre par une conjonction, et c’est simplement une particularité du latin de ne pas l’être explicitement pour fecissem – contrairement à l’équivalent grec epoiêsa an ei edunêthên. En somme, la conjonction est un lien, mais non le signe d’une hiérarchisation: la subordination n’existe pas dans ce système de pensée”. Cf. G.L. 3, 60 = Book XV 60.2–5: Adverbium est pars orationis indeclinabilis, cuius significatio verbis adicitur. Hoc enim perficit adverbium verbis additum, quod adiectiva nomina appellativis nominibus adiuncta, ut prudens homo prudenter agit, felix vir feliciter vivit. [Translation: “The adverb is an indeclinable part of speech, the meaning of which is added to verbs. The adverb added to verbs performs exactly what adjectival nouns added to appellative nouns do, e.g., a wise man acts wisely; a happy man lives happily”]

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haec te cura remordet), it is no longer the expression of a circumstance under which the predicative structure assumes its reference, hence it is not used as an adverb, but as a conjunction. Put in more formal-linguistic terms, we could say that as long as quando is proportional with, or “equifunctional” with elements such as nunc or tunc, it functions as an adverb; once this equifunctionality is lost, and when it thus becomes proportional with a set of (causal or other) conjunctions, it is used in a “conjunctional” way. In conclusion, Priscian’s treatment of the invariable parts of speech and of their distinctiveness, is a well-pondered one: not only does the author’s argumentation involve prosodic, phonetic, compositional, and semantic criteria or observations, but he is also guided by a view on (morpho)syntactic structure in which the verbal predicate has a central role, and in which elements (or constituents) of the sentence are primarily approached from the point of view of their contribution to the “referential load” of the utterance. ΒIBLIOGRAPHY Baratin M., La naissance de la syntaxe à Rome, Paris 1989 Baratin M., Le traitement de l’adverbe au-delà du livre XV des IG de Priscien. Les adverbes “génériques” et la distinction entre adverbe et conjonction, in: Histoire Épistémologie Langage 27/2, 2005, 151–165 Baratin M. et al. (eds), Priscien: transmission et réformation de la grammaire, de l’Antiquité aux Modernes, Turnhout 2009 Baratin M. et al., Priscien: Grammaire. Livres XIV, XV, XVI – Les invariables. Texte latin, traduction introduite et annotée par le Groupe Ars grammatica, Paris 2013 Bonnet G., Coniunctiones an adverbia? Une confusion dans le classement des parties du discours chez les artigraphes latins, in: F. Poli – G. Vottéro (eds.), De Cyrène à Catherine: trois mille ans de Libyennes. Études grecques et latines offertes à Catherine Dobias-Lalou, Nancy – Paris 2005, 289–299 Bonnet G., Les adverbes dans la tradition grammaticale latine avant Priscien, in: Histoire Épistémologie Langage 27/2, 2005, 141–150 Gutiérrez Galindo M. A., Las definiciones de conjunción en los gramáticos latinos: un capítolo importante en la historia de la sintaxis, in: Revista española de lingüística 19, 1989, 389–419 Jahn C. F., Grammaticorum Graecorum de coniunctionibus doctrina, Greifswald 1847 Keil H. (ed.), Grammatici Latini ex recensione H. Keilii, Lipsiae 1855–1880 (8 volumes) Matthaios S. – Kärnä A. (eds.), Das Adverb in der Grammatikographie, Teil I (= Beiträge zur Geschichte der Sprachwissenschaft, 17. 1), Münster 2007 Sancho Royo A., Aproximación al sistema conjuncional griego desde la perspectiva de los gramáticos antiguos, in: Habis 15, 1984, 95–116 Santiago Ángel J. M., Las definiciones de preposición en los gramáticos latinos: coherencia y aportaciones, in: Fortunatae 8, 1996, 283–308 Schad S., A Lexicon of Latin Grammatical Terminology, Pisa 2007 Schönberger A., Priscians Darstellung der lateinischen Präpositionen: lateinischer Text und kommentierte deutsche Übersetzung des 14. Buches der Institutiones Grammaticae, Frankfurt am Main 2008 Schönberger A., Priscians Darstellung der lateinischen Konjunktionen: lateinischer Text und kommentierte deutsche Übersetzung des 16. Buches der Institutiones Grammaticae, Frankfurt am Main 2010

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Swiggers P., review article on S. Schad, A Lexicon of Latin Grammatical Terminology, 2007, in: Bryn Mawr Classical Review [electronic journal], February 2009 [14 p. available at http://ccat. sas.upenn.edu/bmcr/2009 under 2009.02.03] Swiggers P. – Wouters A., The syndesmos in Ancient Grammar: Grammatical Status and Subtypes, in: B. Caron (ed.), Proceedings of the 16th International Congress of Linguists, 20–25 July 1997, Oxford 1998 [Paper No. 0039; CD-ROM, ISBN 0 08 043 438X] Swiggers P. – Wouters A., Grammatical Theory in Aristotle’s Poetics, chapter XX, in: P. Swiggers – A. Wouters (eds.), Grammatical Theory and Philosophy of Language in Antiquity, Leuven – Paris 2002, 101–120 Taifacos I. (ed.), The Origins of European Scholarship. The Cyprus Millennium International Conference, Wiesbaden 2005

17 ΙΩΑΝΝΟΥ ΑΛΕΞΑΝΔΡΕΩΣ ΤΟΝΙΚΑ ΠΑΡΑΓΓΕΛΜΑΤΑ: ΔΙΟΡΘΩΤΙΚΑ ΚΑΙ ΜΕΘΟΔΟΛΟΓΙΚΑ Γεώργιος Ἀ. Ξενῆς Abstract The text of John of Alexandria’s Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα, a major epitome of Aelius Herodian’s lost Περὶ καθολικῆς προσῳδίας, stands in need of thorough overhaul. The first part of this paper briefly describes the weaknesses of Karl Dindorf’s edition (17.1), and then discusses three passages that can be remedied by ‘internal’ means: either through the use of conjectural emendation (17.2 I, III) or by simply repunctuating the paradosis (17.2 II). The second part (17.2 IV.1–4) refers to the ninth-century grammarians Michael Syncellus and Theognostus, whose significance as sources of evidence for the text of the Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα has entirely gone unnoticed: it addresses methodological issues concerning the appropriate use of their testimony, and deals with the restoration of three passages (17.2 IV.1–3) as an illustration of the way in which they can benefit our text. 17.1 ΕΙΣΑΓΩΓΗ Τὰ Toνικὰ παραγγέλματα τοῦ γραμματικοῦ Ἰωάννου Ἀλεξανδρέως ἀποτελοῦν μία ἀπὸ τὶς πλουσιότερες σωζόμενες πηγὲς πληροφοριῶν γιὰ τὴν ἀρχαία ἑλληνικὴ προσωδία. Τὸ περιεχόμενο τοῦ κειμένου δὲν εἶναι πρωτότυπο δημιούργημα τοῦ Ἰωάννη, ἀλλὰ ἐπιτομὴ τοῦ περίφημου Περὶ καθολικῆς προσῳδίας συγγράμματος τοῦ Αἰλίου Ἡρωδιανοῦ, γραμματικοῦ τοῦ 2ου αἰ. μ.Χ. Μάλιστα περιλαμβάνει ἀρκετὸ ὑλικὸ τῆς Καθολικῆς ποὺ δὲν ἔχουν διαφυλάξει οἱ ἄλλες ἐπιτομές της1 καὶ ἀκριβῶς γιὰ τὸν λόγο αὐτὸν εἶναι ἀπαραίτητο ἐργαλεῖο γιὰ τὴν ἀνασυγκρότησή της. 1

Κατατοπιστικὰ σημειώματα γιὰ τὶς ἐπιτομὲς τῆς Καθολικῆς μὲ παράθεση ὅλης τῆς σχετικῆς βιβλιογραφίας δίνει ὁ Andrew Dyck, Aelius Herodian: Recent Studies and Prospects for Future Research, στό: ANRW II 34.1, Berlin/New York 1993, 776–83. Περισσότερα στοιχεῖα εἰδικὰ γιὰ τὴν ἐπιτομὴ τοῦ [Ἀρκαδίου] βρίσκει κανεὶς στὴν πρόσφατη διδακτορικὴ διατριβὴ τῆς Stephanie Roussou, Pseudo-Arcadius’ Epitome of Herodian’s Περὶ Καθολικῆς Προσῳδίας with a Critical Edition and Notes on Books 1–8, Πανεπιστήμιο Ὀξφόρδης 2011, 55–130. Οἱ παρατηρήσεις τῆς Roussou γιὰ τὸ περιεχόμενο τοῦ 18ου βιβλίου (σσ. 102–4) καὶ τοῦ Παραρτήματος (σσ. 111–2) τῆς Καθολικῆς ἔχουν ἀναθεωρηθεῖ ἀπὸ τὸν Georgios Xenis, Michael Syncellus: A Neglected Source for Aelius Herodian’s Περὶ καθολικῆς προσῳδίας, στό: Classical Quarterly, 65.2, 2015, 1-13, doi:10.1017/ S0009838815000415.

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Παρὰ τὴ σπουδαιότητα τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων, ἡ χρήση τους παρεμποδίζεται ἀπὸ τὸ γεγονὸς ὅτι ἀκόμη δὲν διαθέτουν κείμενο κριτικὸ ὑπὸ τὴν αὐστηρὴ ἔννοια τοῦ ὅρου. Ἡ ὑφιστάμενη ἔκδοση, ποὺ ὀφείλεται στὸν Karl Wilhelm Dindorf καὶ ἀνάγεται στὸ ἔτος 1825,2 εἶναι ἀνεπαρκέστατη. Θὰ περιορισθοῦμε ἐδῶ στὴν περιγραφὴ τῶν κύριων ἀδυναμιῶν της – γιὰ λεπτομέρειες ὁ ἀναγνώστης παραπέμπεται στὴ Praefatio τῆς νέας ἐκδόσεως.3 Πρῶτα ἀπ’ ὅλα ἡ ἔκδοση πάσχει στὸ ἐπίπεδο τῆς recensio. Ὑπάρχουν πέντε συνολικὰ χειρόγραφα, ἀπὸ τὰ ὁποῖα τὰ δύο πρέπει νὰ τεθοῦν ὡς βάση τῆς ἐκδόσεως: ὁ κώδικας Hauniensis 1965, 4o τοῦ 15ου αἰ. (σύμβολο A) καὶ ὁ δίδυμος πρὸς αὐτὸν Vindobonensis Phil. gr. 240 τοῦ 16ου αἰ. (σύμβολο V).4 Ὁ Dindorf γνώριζε μόνο τὸν Α. Τὴν ἀξία τοῦ κώδικα V πρῶτος ἐπεσήμανε ὁ Peter Egenolff ἐν ἔτει 1887.5 Γιὰ νὰ ἀντιληφθοῦμε τὴ σπουδαιότητα τοῦ ὑλικοῦ, τοῦ ὁποίου ἡ ἔκδοση στερήθηκε λόγω ἀγνοίας τοῦ V, ἀρκεῖ νὰ ἀναφέρουμε ὅτι σὲ τρία χωρία ὁ V παρέχει πληρέστερο κείμενο, τὸ ὁποῖο συμπληρώνει χάσματα τοῦ Α: στὸ σημεῖο 16.76 μετὰ τὸ «προπαροξύνεται» ὁ V παραδίδει τὶς ἐπιπλέον λέξεις «ὅθεν τὸ ἡ μ ε ρ α ι , τὸ μὲν ἐπὶ χρόνου παροξύνεται, τὸ δὲ ἐπιθετικὸν προπαροξύνεται»· στὸ 29.26 μετὰ τὸ «πέρην» δίνει «Ἰωνικῶς, ἀπὸ τοῦ ἡ π έ ρ α , τ ῆ ς π έ ρ α ς , τ ῇ π έ ρ ᾳ , τ ὴ ν π έ ρ α ν καὶ π έ ρ η ν » καὶ στὸ 32.3 μετὰ τὸ «λέγεται» δίνει «μίγδ’ ἄλλοισι θεοῖσι (Θ 437), σῖγα, ὦκα, πύκα, ἧκα, φύγα, ὃ πάλιν φύγδα λέγεται». Ἡ μεγάλη ἀξία τοῦ V δὲν πρέπει ὡστόσο νὰ μᾶς ὁδηγήσει στὴν ἄκριτη ἀποδοχὴ ὅλων τῶν γραφῶν του, διότι ὁ V περιέχει λ.χ. ἐπικεφαλίδες, ποὺ κατὰ πᾶσαν πιθανότητα ὀφείλονται στὸν γραφέα του καὶ ὄχι σὲ κληρονομημένο αὐθεντικὸ ὑλικό. Ἐκτὸς ἀπὸ τὴν ἄμεση παράδοση, ὑπάρχουν ἀκόμη δύο πηγὲς πληροφορήσεως γιὰ τὸ κείμενο τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων, οἱ ὁποῖες θὰ πρέπει νὰ ἐξετασθοῦν. Ὑπάρχει κατ’ ἀρχὰς ἕνα συμπίλημα ἐπιγραφόμενο Περὶ τόνων ἐκ τῶν Χοιροβοσκοῦ, Αἰθερίου, Φιλοπόνου καὶ ἑτέρων,7 τὸ ὁποῖο ἐν μέρει στηρίζεται στὰ Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα καὶ ὡς ἐκ τούτου μπορεῖ νὰ λειτουργήσει ὡς ἔμμεση παράδοση. Ὑπάρχουν καὶ ἄλλοι συγγραφεῖς, λ.χ. ὁ Θεόγνωστος καὶ ὁ Μιχαὴλ Σύγκελλος, οἱ ὁποῖοι, ὅπως ὁ Ἰωάννης Ἀλεξανδρεύς, βασίσθηκαν στὴν Καθολική καὶ ἑπομένως μᾶς ἐπιτρέπουν νὰ διαμορφώσουμε πληρέστερη εἰκόνα γιὰ τὴ μορφὴ καὶ τὸ περιεχόμενο τοῦ ἡρωδιανι2 3 4 5 6 7

Guilielmus Dindorfius (ἐκδ.), Ἰωάννου Ἀλεξανδρέως Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα. Αἰλίου Ἡρωδιανοῦ Περὶ σχημάτων, Λειψία: Libraria Weidmannia, 1825, σελ. 3–42. Georgios Xenis (ed.), Iohannes Alexandrinus. Praecepta Tonica, Berolini/Monachii/Bostoniae: Walter de Gruyter (Bibliotheca scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana), 2015, xix–xx. Περισσότερα στοιχεῖα γιὰ τὰ χειρόγραφα βλ. στὸν Georgios Xenis, Herodian and Strattis: A Further Link?, στό: RhM 156.1, 2013, 106 μὲ ὑποσημ. 1, 2 καὶ 3. Egenolff Ρ., Die orthoepischen Stücke der byzantinischen Litteratur, Λειψία 1887, κυρίως 37–8, ἐπίσης 13 ὑποσημ. 12. Ἐξηγήσεις γιὰ τὶς παραπομπὲς στὰ Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα δίνονται στὸ τέλος τῆς εἰσαγωγῆς. Ἡ πρώτη καὶ μοναδικὴ ἔκδοση εἶναι: W.J.W. Koster, De accentibus excerpta ex Choerobosco, Aetherio, Philopono, Aliis, στό: Mnemosyne 59, 1931, 132–64.

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κοῦ συγγράμματος. Αὐτὸ τὸ τελευταῖο συνεπάγεται ἐνίοτε βελτίωση τοῦ παραδεδομένου κειμένου τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων8 – ἂς μὴ λησμονοῦμε ὅτι οἱ συγγραφεῖς αὐτοὶ ἀνάγονται στὸν 9ο αἰ. καὶ ἑπομένως ἡ μαρτυρία τους εἶναι κατὰ ἕξι αἰῶνες ἀρχαιότερη ἀπὸ τὴ μαρτυρία τοῦ παλαιότερου χειρογράφου τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων. Καμμία ἀπὸ αὐτὲς τὶς πηγὲς βοηθείας δὲν εἶχε ὑπόψιν του ὁ Dindorf, ἁπλούστατα διότι ἐν ἔτει 1825 δὲν εἶχαν ἀκόμη ἔλθει στὴν ἐπιφάνεια. Ἡ χειρόγραφη βάση τῆς ἐκδόσεως τοῦ Dindorf πέρα ἀπὸ τὴ στενότητά της παρουσιάζει ἀκόμη ἕνα πρόβλημα: ἡ ἀντιβολὴ τοῦ Α, τὴν ὁποία ὁ Dindorf ὀφείλει στὸν Δανὸ λόγιο Bloch, βαρύνεται ἀπὸ πληθώρα παραναγνώσεων καὶ παραλείψεων. Ὅσον ἀφορᾶ τὸν ἔλεγχο τῆς γνησιότητας τοῦ παραδεδομένου στὸν Α κειμένου, αὐτὸς ἔγινε ὅλως ἀτελῶς ἀπὸ τὸν Dindorf, μὲ ἀποτέλεσμα νὰ μοιάζει ἡ ἔκδοση μὲ διπλωματικὴ μεταγραφὴ τοῦ Α. Ἐντύπωση προκαλεῖ τὸ ὅτι ἐνίοτε ὁ ἐκδότης, ἐνῶ εἶχε στὴ διάθεσή του ἀπολύτως ὀρθὲς καὶ ἀναγκαῖες εἰκασίες, περιορίσθηκε νὰ τὶς σημειώσει στὸ ὑπόμνημα χωρὶς νὰ τὶς εἰσαγάγει στὸ κείμενο. Τέλος, σὲ καθαρὰ τεχνικὸ ἐπίπεδο, ὁ Dindorf ἀκολούθησε ἕνα τρόπο παρουσιάσεως ποὺ δὲν ἐπιτρέπει στὸν ἀναγνώστη νὰ ἀντιληφθεῖ τὴ λογικὴ διάρθρωση τοῦ κειμένου σὲ νοηματικὲς ἑνότητες. Στὴν παροῦσα ἐργασία, ἀρχικῶς μὲν (ἑνότητες 17.2 Ι, ΙΙ, ΙΙΙ) ἐπισημαίνονται τρία προβληματικὰ χωρία τῆς ἐκδόσεως τοῦ Dindorf, τὰ ὁποῖα μποροῦν νὰ ἀποκατασταθοῦν ope ingenii, ἐπὶ τῇ βάσει ἐσωτερικῶν ἐνδείξεων τῶν Το­ νικῶν παραγγελμάτων: ἀφοροῦν τὰ σημεῖα 5.16, 8.24 καὶ 10.33. ἐν συνεχείᾳ δὲ (ἑνότητα 17.2 ΙV) ἐπὶ τῇ βάσει τεσσάρων χωρίων (27.33, 38.5, 32.25, 38.5) ἀναλύεται ἡ μεθοδολογία χρήσεως ἄλλων συγγραφέων στὴν κριτικὴ ἀποκατάσταση τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων. Οἱ παραπομπὲς στὰ Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα γίνονται κατὰ σελίδα καὶ στίχο τῆς ἐκδόσεως τοῦ Dindorf. Τὸ παρατιθέμενο ὅμως κριτικὸ κείμενο ἀκολουθεῖ τὴ δική μου ἔκδοση, στὴν ὁποία ἐπίσης βρίσκονται συγκεντρωμένες ὅλες οἱ εἰδήσεις γιὰ τὶς γραφὲς τῶν κωδίκων ΑV καὶ γιὰ τὶς εἰκασίες τῶν ἐκδοτῶν καὶ ἄλλων κριτικῶν φιλολόγων. Οἱ παραπομπὲς στὸ Περὶ καθολι­ κῆς προσῳδίας γίνονται κατὰ σελίδα καὶ στίχο τῆς ἐκδόσεως τοῦ Lentz. Ὅσον ἀφορᾶ τὰ χρησιμοποιούμενα ἐδῶ χωρία ἀπὸ τὸ Περὶ ὀρθογραφίας τοῦ Θεογνώστου, αὐτὰ παρατίθενται κατὰ ἰδική μου κριτικὴ ἀποκατάσταση, ἡ ὁποία ὅμως στηρίζεται, ὅπως καὶ ἡ ἔκδοση τοῦ Cramer, μόνον στὸν Baroccianus 50. Πάντως ἀντέβαλα ἐκ νέου τὸν κώδικα διορθώνοντας πολλὲς παραναγνώσεις καὶ παραλείψεις τοῦ Cramer – συμβουλεύθηκα καὶ τὶς παρατηρήσεις τοῦ Richard Schneider, Bodleiana, Λειψία 1887. Οἱ παραπομπὲς ὅμως ἀκολουθοῦν τὴν ἀρίθμηση σελίδων καὶ στίχων τῆς ἐκδόσεως τοῦ Cramer. Πλήρη στοιχεῖα τῶν ἐκδόσεων παρατίθενται στὸν πίνακα βιβλιογραφίας. 8

Πῶς μᾶς βοηθοῦν ἀλλὰ καὶ πῶς μποροῦν νὰ μᾶς παραπλανήσουν συγγραφεῖς, ὅπως ὁ Θεόγνωστος καὶ ὁ Μιχαὴλ Σύγκελλος, εἶναι θέμα ποὺ ἐξετάζεται στὴν ἑνότητα ΙV τῆς παρούσης ἐργασίας.

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17.2 ΔΙΟΡΘΩΣΗ ΕΠΙ ΜΕΡΟΥΣ ΧΩΡΙΩΝ ΤΩΝ ΤΟΝΙΚΩΝ ΠΑΡΑΓΓΕΛΜΑΤΩΝ I Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα 5.5 κ.ἑξ. οὐδέποτε, μακρᾶς οὔσης τῆς ἐπὶ τέλους, τρίτη ἀπὸ τέλους πίπτει ἡ ὀξεῖα. ἔνθεν τῆς εὐθείας τοῦ Ὅμηρος καὶ αἰτιατικῆς καὶ κλητικῆς προπαροξυνομένων, Ὅμηρος, Ὅμηρον, Ὅμηρε, ἡ γενικὴ καὶ δοτική, τοῦ Ὁμήρου καὶ τῷ Ὁμήρῳ, διὰ τὴν ἐπὶ τέλους μακρὰν παροξύνονται, σεσημειωμένων τῶν Ἀττικῶν. πόλεως, μάντεως, Μενέλεως. τὸν γὰρ τῶν κοινῶν εὐθειῶν τόνον φυλάττουσι τὰ Ἀττικὰ ἐπὶ πάσης πτώσεως. ὁ ναός ὀξύνεται, διὰ τοῦτο καὶ ὁ νεώς, τοῦ νεώ, καὶ αἱ λοιπαὶ πτώσεις ὀξύνονται ὁμοίως. καὶ ἔτι τοῦ Μενέλαος προπαροξυνομένου, ὁ Μενέλεως καὶ αἱ λοιπαὶ πτώσεις καὶ οἱ ἀριθμοὶ προπαροξύνονται, κἂν κατὰ γενικὴν μόνην γένηται ἡ ἐπέκτασις ὡς ἐπὶ τοῦ πόλεως καὶ μάντεως.

Τὸ νόημα τοῦ χωρίου ἔχει ὡς ἀκολούθως: ἡ ὀξεῖα δὲν τίθεται ποτὲ στὴν προπαραλήγουσα, ὅταν ἡ λήγουσα εἶναι μακρά. Ὁ κανόνας αὐτὸς παραβιάζεται στὰ «ἀττικά». Ἀπὸ τὰ παραδείγματα ποὺ προσκομίζει ὁ Ἰωάννης φαίνεται ὅτι μὲ τὴ γενικὴ κατηγορία «ἀττικά» ἐννοεῖ ἀφ’ ἑνὸς τὶς ἀττικὲς γενικές, δηλαδή τὶς τριτόκλιτες γενικὲς τοῦ τύπου πόλεως καὶ μάντεως, καὶ ἀφ’ ἑτέρου τὰ ἀττικόκλιτα δευτερόκλιτα οὐσιαστικά, ὅπως λ.χ. Μενέλεως καὶ νεώς. Ἐν συνεχείᾳ τὸ κείμενο ἐξηγεῖ ποῦ ὀφείλεται ἡ παραβίαση τοῦ κανόνα: τὰ «ἀττικὰ» φυλάσσουν σὲ ὅλες ἀνεξαιρέτως τὶς πτώσεις ὅλων τῶν ἀριθμῶν τὸν τόνο τῆς λέξης στὴ θέση ποὺ τὸν ἔχει ἡ κοινὴ ὀνομαστική (ὑπονοεῖται: ἀνεξαρτήτως τῆς ποσότητας τῆς λήγουσας). Ἀκολουθοῦν δύο παραδείγματα: ἐπειδὴ ὁ τύπος τῆς κοινῆς ὀνομαστικῆς ναός ὀξύνεται, ὀξύνονται καὶ ὅλες οἱ πτώσεις ὅλων τῶν ἀριθμῶν τοῦ ἀττικοῦ νεώς (ἡ ὀνομαστικὴ ἑνικοῦ νεώς, ἡ γενικὴ ἑνικοῦ νεώ κτλ). Καὶ ἐπειδὴ ὁ τύπος τῆς κοινῆς ὀνομαστικῆς Μενέλαος προπαροξύνεται, προπαροξύνονται καὶ ὅλες οἱ πτώσεις ὅλων τῶν ἀριθμῶν τοῦ ἀττικοῦ Μενέλεως. Ἐν κατακλεῖδι τὸ χωρίο περιλαμβάνει ἕνα εἶδος σύγκρισης μεταξὺ τῶν ἀττικῶν τριτόκλιτων γενικῶν (πόλεως, μάντεως) καὶ τῶν ἀττικόκλιτων δευτερόκλιτων οὐσιαστικῶν (Μενέλεως) ἐν σχέσει πρὸς τὴν ἔκταση9 τοῦ φωνήεντος τῆς λήγουσας. Ὡστόσο ὅπως παραδίδεται στὰ χειρόγραφα καὶ τυπώνεται στὴν ἔκδοση τοῦ Dindorf καὶ μεταφέρεται στὴν ἔκδοση τῆς Καθολικῆς τοῦ Lentz 8.30, ἡ σύγκριση δὲν μπορεῖ νὰ γίνει ἀποδεκτή: ἁπλούστατα δὲν εὐσταθεῖ ἡ πρόταση ὅτι τὰ δευτερόκλιτα ἀττικόκλιτα οὐσιαστικὰ ἔχουν ἔκταση (σὲ σχέση μὲ τὸν ἀντίστοιχο κοινὸ τύπο) φωνήεντος στὴ λήγουσα μόνο τῆς γενικῆς πτώσης, ὅπως τὰ ἄλλα ἀττικὰ πόλεως, μάντεως κτλ. Τὸ ἀληθὲς εἶναι ὅτι ἔχουν ἔκταση φωνήεντος στὴ λήγουσα ὅλων τῶν πτώσεων καὶ ὄχι μόνον τῆς γενικῆς, ὅπως ἔχει τὸ πόλεως καὶ μάντεως. Εἶναι προφανὴς ἡ ὕπαρξη χάσματος στὸ κεί9

Ἡ «ἐπέκτασις», ὁ ὅρος ποὺ χρησιμοποιεῖται στὸ ἀρχαῖο κείμενο, συνήθως δηλώνει τὴν ἐπιμήκυνση μιᾶς λέξεως μὲ ἕνα παραγωγικὸ μόρφημα: λ.χ. τὸ ἐντευθενί εἶναι ἡ «ἐπεκτεταμένη» μορφὴ τοῦ ἐντεῦθεν. Ὡστόσο ἡ «ἐπέκτασις» ἐνίοτε τίθεται ἀντὶ τοῦ «ἔκτασις», δηλ. τῆς μετατροπῆς ἑνὸς βραχέος φωνήεντος στὸ ἀντίστοιχο μακρό: βλ. LSJ λ. ἐπέκτασις II ‘lengthening of a vowel’.

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μενο. Συμπλήρωση ἡ ὁποία θὰ ἀποκαθιστοῦσε τὸ νόημα μπορεῖ νὰ εἶναι ἡ ἀκόλουθη: … καὶ ἔτι τοῦ Μενέλαος προπαροξυνομένου, ὁ Μενέλεως καὶ αἱ λοιπαὶ πτώσεις καὶ οἱ ἀριθμοὶ προπαροξύνονται, κἂν κατὰ γενικὴν μόνην γένηται ἡ ἐπέκτασις ὡς ἐπὶ τοῦ πόλεως καὶ μάντεως.

Ἡ προστεθεῖσα φράση εὔκολα θὰ μποροῦσε νὰ ἐκπέσει μὲ ἕνα saut du même au même. II Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα 8.14 κ.ἑξ. Πάντα τὰ εἰς -ας μακροκατάληκτα ἐπὶ τῷ τέλει τὸν τόνον ἔχοντα ὧν ἡ κλίσις ἢ κατ’ ἀποβολὴν τοῦ -ς ἢ διὰ τοῦ -ντ- (scil. περισπᾶται). Μητρᾶς Μητρᾶ, Ζηνᾶς Ζηνᾶ, Γλισᾶς Γλισᾶντος, πελεκᾶς πελεκᾶντος, ἀλλᾶς ἀλλᾶντος καὶ εἴ τι τοιοῦτον. Ἰωνικῶς παραλόγως διὰ τοῦ -δ- κεκλιμένα, ὧν τὸ α μακρόν. Βοιβᾶς Βοιβᾶδος, Βιττᾶς Βιττᾶδος (scil. περισπᾶται). τὰ δὲ παρὰ παρακείμενον συντεθέντα, οἷόν ἐστι τὸ χαλκοκράς, νεοκράς, οὐκ ἀντίκειται ὀξυνόμενα. διὰ γὰρ μόνου τοῦ -τ- κλίνεται. σεσημείωται τὸ ἱμάς καὶ ἀνδριάς ὀξυνθέντα. ἱμάντος γὰρ καὶ ἀνδριάντος, ἅπερ παρ’ Ἀττικοῖς περισπᾶται.

Μετὰ τὴν πραγμάτευση τῶν μονοσυλλάβων περισπωμένων ὀνομαστικῶν ὁ Ἰωάννης στρέφεται στὶς ὑπερμονοσύλλαβες ὀνομαστικὲς ποὺ εἶναι μακροκατάληκτες καὶ ἔχουν τὸν τόνο στὴ λήγουσα. Σκοπός του καὶ ἐδῶ εἶναι νὰ διακρίνει ἐκεῖνες στὶς ὁποῖες ὁ τόνος αὐτὸς εἶναι ἡ περισπωμένη. Στὸ ἀνωτέρω χωρίο, ὁ συγγραφέας πραγματεύεται (1) ἐκεῖνες τὶς ὑπερμονοσύλλαβες ὀνομαστικές, (2) ποὺ λήγουν σε -ας (μὲ μακρὸ ἄλφα) καὶ (3) ποὺ ἔχουν τὸν τόνο στὴ λήγουσα. Διδάσκει ὅτι αὐτὲς οἱ ὀνομαστικὲς λαμβάνουν περισπωμένη, ἂν ἐκπληρώνουν ἀκόμη μία προϋπόθεση: (4) ἂν σχηματίζουν τὴ γενικὴ ἑνικοῦ μὲ -ντ- (ἢ κατ’ ἀποβολὴν τοῦ -ς): ἀλλᾶς ἀλλᾶντος κτλ. Ὁλοκληρώνει τὸ χωρίο σημειώνοντας δύο ἐξαιρέσεις στὸν κανόνα: ὁ ἱμάς καὶ ὁ ἀνδριάς, παρὰ τὸ ὅτι ἱκανοποιοῦν καὶ τὶς τέσσερεις προϋποθέσεις, λαμβάνουν ὀξεῖα. Ὅλοι οἱ φιλόλογοι κατανοοῦν τὴ δομὴ τοῦ ὑπογραμμισμένου σημείου μὲ ὅμοιο τρόπο. Ὁ Dindorf (8.24), ἀκολουθούμενος ἀπὸ τὸν Lentz (51.20), θέτει κόμμα μετὰ τὸ ἀνδριάντος ὑποδηλώνοντας ἔτσι ὅτι ἡ φράση ἅπερ παρ’ Ἀττικοῖς περισπᾶται κατὰ τὴ γνώμη του ἀναφέρεται στὸ ἱμάντος καὶ ἀνδριάντος. Τὴ γνώμη του αὐτὴ τὴν ἐκφράζει ρητῶς λίγα χρόνια ἀργότερα στὸν Thesaurus Graecae Linguae τοῦ Ἑρρίκου Στεφάνου: ‘… Joannes gramm. p. 8, ἱμᾶντα et ἀνδριᾶντα scribendum esse praecipiens.’10 Μὲ άλλα λόγια ὁ Dindorf παρουσιάζει τὸν Ἰωάννη νὰ διδάσκει ὅτι οἱ γενικὲς ἱμάντος καὶ ἀν­ δριάντος εἶναι προπερισπώμενες στὴν ἀττικὴ διάλεκτο. Ὁ Walter Haas, στὸ πλαίσιο τῆς μελέτης τοῦ ἀποσπάσματος 13 τοῦ γραμματικοῦ Τυραννίωνος, υἱοθετεῖ τὴν ἴδια προσέγγιση μὲ τὴν προσέγγιση τοῦ 10

H. Stephanus, Thesaurus Graecae Linguae, τόμ. IV, 3η ἔκδ. ἀπὸ C. B. Hase, G. Dindorf καὶ L. Dindorf, Παρίσι χ.χ., λ. ἱμάς, σ. 591 B.

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Dindorf.11 Ἐπιπροσθέτως προσκομίζει ἕνα παράλληλο χωρίο ποὺ πιστοποιεῖ ὅτι ἡ περισπωμένη στὴν παραλήγουσα τοῦ ἱμᾶντος καὶ τοῦ ἀνδριᾶντος δὲν εἶναι ξένη πρὸς τὴ διδασκαλία τοῦ Ἡρωδιανοῦ, ὁ ὁποῖος θεωροῦσε ὅτι στὴ νεώτερη ἀττικὴ διάλεκτο προέφεραν τὴν αἰτιατικὴ τοῦ ἱμάς προπερισπωμένως ὡς ἱμᾶντα: Ἡρωδιανὸς12 παρὰ τῷ σχολ. Ξ 214b ἱμάντα. τὸ γὰρ ἐκτεταμένον νέας Ἀτθίδος, ὡς ἀλλᾶντα.

Ὁ Haas σημειώνει ἀκόμη ἕνα παράλληλο χωρίο, τοῦ ὁποίου ἡ σχέση μὲ τὸ συζητούμενο θέμα εἶναι ἀκόμη πιὸ στενὴ καὶ τὸ ὁποῖο μπορεῖ νὰ προέρχεται ἐπίσης ἀπὸ τὸν Ἡρωδιανό. Μάλιστα ὁ Andrew Dyck πιστεύει ὅτι προέρχεται εἰδικῶς ἀπὸ τὴν Καθολική: Ἐπ. Ὁμ. An. Ox. 1.217.12 Cramer = Ἐπ. Ὁμ. ι 57, στ. 14 Dyck: ἐπὶ μέντοι γενικῆς ἱμάντος, οἱ μὲν Ἀττικοὶ τῷ χρόνῳ τῆς εὐθείας ἀκολουθοῦντες προπερισπῶσι τὴν γενικήν.

Τέλος, ὁ Dyck κατὰ τὸν σχολιασμὸ τοῦ ἀποσπάσματος 52 τοῦ Ἡλιοδώρου, ἀκολουθεῖ τὴν ἴδια πορεία στὴν ἑρμηνεία τοῦ χωρίου, ἀλλὰ παρουσιάζει μεγαλύτερη συνέπεια ἀπὸ τοὺς προκατόχους του, καθὼς διορθώνει τὸ κείμενο τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων μετατρέποντας τὸ περισπᾶται (8.24) σὲ περισπᾶται.13 Ἡ διόρθωση εἶναι ἁπλῆ καὶ εὔκολα μπορεῖ νὰ ὑποστηριχθεῖ μὲ ἄλλα παραδείγματα αὐτῆς τῆς παραφθορᾶς. Στὸν Ἐπ. Ὁμ. ι 57, στ. 15, γιὰ νὰ ἀναφέρουμε ἕνα μόνο παράδειγμα, τὸ G καὶ d δίνουν προπερι­ σπῶσι, ἐνῶ τὸ O ἔχει περισπῶσι. Ἡ ὁμοφωνία ὡστόσο τῶν φιλολόγων δὲν πρέπει νὰ ἀποκλείσει μιὰ ἐναλλακτικὴ ἀνάλυση τῆς δομῆς τοῦ ὑπογραμμισμένου σημείου. Ἡ περὶ ἧς ὁ λόγος ἀνάλυση δὲν ἀπαιτεῖ ἀναθεώρηση τοῦ παραδεδομένου κειμένου, ἀλλὰ ἁπλῶς ἐπανερμηνεία του στὸ ἐπίπεδο τῆς στίξεως. εἶναι δὲ ἀνώτερη γιὰ τὸν λόγο ποὺ θὰ ἀναφερθεῖ πιὸ κάτω. Νὰ πάρουμε τὰ πράγματα ἀπὸ τὴν ἀρχή. Ἡ ἐπανερμηνεία εἶναι ἡ ἑξῆς: σεσημείωται τὸ ἱμάς καὶ ἀνδριάς ὀξυνθέντα. ἱμάντος γὰρ καὶ ἀνδριάντος. ἅπερ παρ’ Ἀττικοῖς περισπᾶται.

Ἡ φράση ἱμάντος γὰρ καὶ ἀνδριάντος ἀποτελεῖ αἰτιολογία τῆς προηγούμενης φράσης σεσημείωται … ὀξυνθέντα: τὰ ὀξυτονούμενα ἱμάς καὶ ἀνδριάς θεωροῦνται ὅτι παραβιάζουν τὸν κανόνα, διότι ἐκπληρώνουν καὶ τὴν τέταρτη προϋπόθεση, σχηματίζουν δηλαδή τὴ γενική τους μὲ -ντ-, καὶ ἑπομέ11 12

13

W. Haas, Die Fragmente der Grammatiker Tyrannion und Diokles, στό: Die Fragmente des Grammatikers Dionysios Thrax. Die Fragmente der Grammatiker Tyrannion und Diokles. Apions Γλῶσσαι Ὁμηρικαί, SGLG 3, Bερολίνο/Νέα Υόρκη 1977, 114. Τὸ σχόλιο δὲν προσδιορίζει τὴν πηγή του. Ὅμως εἶναι γνωστὸ ὅτι τὰ σχόλια Τ τῆς Ἰλιάδας περιλαμβάνουν φιλολογικὴ ὕλη τῆς ἀλεξανδρινῆς ἐποχῆς καὶ ἡ συνήθης ὑπόθεση εἶναι ὅτι ὅσα σχόλια τοῦ Τ σχετίζονται μὲ προσωδιακὰ θέματα ἀντλοῦνται ἀπὸ τὸ Περὶ Ἰλιακῆς προσῳδίας τοῦ Ἡρωδιανοῦ (βλ. E. Dickey, Ancient Greek Scholarship. A guide to finding, reading, and understanding scholia, commentaries, lexica, and grammatical treatises, from their beginnings to the Byzantine period, Ὀξφόρδη 2007, 19, 76). Ἑπομένως ἡ ἀπόδοση ἀπὸ τὸν Erbse τοῦ σχολ. Ξ 214b στὸν Ἡρωδιανὸ εἶναι ἀπολύτως ἀποδεκτή. A. Dyck, The Fragments of Heliodorus Homericus, στό: HSPh 95, 1993, 56.

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νως θὰ ἔπρεπε νὰ πάρουν περισπωμένη. Ἂν μετὰ τὸ ἀνδριάντος βάλουμε τελεία, τότε διαχωρίζουμε τὴν ἀναφορικὴ πρόταση ἀπὸ τὶς ἀμέσως προηγούμενες λέξεις καὶ τὴ συνδέουμε μὲ τὴν κύρια ἰδέα τῆς ἑνότητας, ἡ ὁποία ἀσφαλῶς ἀφορᾶ τὶς ὀνομαστικές ἱμάς καὶ ἀνδριάς καὶ ὄχι τὶς γενικές ἱμάν­ τος καὶ ἀνδριάντος. Οἱ γενικὲς στὴν πιὸ πάνω πρόταση, ὅπως ἐξ ἄλλου καὶ σὲ ὁλόκληρο τὸ χωρίο ποὺ παραθέσαμε στὴν ἀρχή, δίνονται ὄχι γιὰ χάρη τοῦ ἑαυτοῦ τους, ἀλλὰ γιὰ νὰ ἀποδείξουν ὅτι οἱ ὀνομαστικὲς πρέπει νὰ πάρουν ὁρισμένο τόνο. Μὲ ἄλλα λόγια οἱ γενικὲς ὑποτάσσονται στὶς ὀνομαστικές. Σύμφωνα λοιπὸν μὲ τὴν ἑρμηνεία αὐτή, περισπωμένη στὴν ἀττικὴ διάλεκτο λαμβάνουν οἱ ὀνομαστικὲς ἱμᾶς καὶ ἀνδριᾶς. Ὁ λόγος γιὰ τὸν ὁποῖο κρίνεται προτιμητέα ἡ ἑρμηνεία αὐτὴ εἶναι διότι παρέχει νόημα τὸ ὁποῖο εὑρίσκεται σὲ ἀπόλυτη ἁρμονία μὲ τὴν ἐσωτερικὴ λογικὴ ἐκείνου τοῦ τμήματος τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων στὸ ὁποῖο τὸ ὑπὸ ἐξέτασιν χωρίο ὀργανικῶς ἀνήκει: ἀπὸ τὸ σημεῖο 7.16 τῶν Τονικῶν πα­ ραγγελμάτων ὁ Ἰωάννης πραγματεύεται τὸν τόνο τῶν ὀνομαστικῶν ἑνικῶν καὶ συνεχίζει νὰ ἀσχολεῖται μὲ τὸ θέμα αὐτὸ ὣς τὸ σημεῖο 9.18: 7.16 ὀνομαστικὲς μονοσύλλαβες μακροκατάληκτες οὐδετέρου γένους. 7.20 ὀνομαστικὲς μονοσύλλαβες μακροκατάληκτες ἀρσενικοῦ γένους σὲ -ξ. 7.25 ὀνομαστικὲς μονοσύλλαβες μακροκατάληκτες θηλυκοῦ γένους σὲ -ξ. 7.27 ὀνομαστικὲς μονοσύλλαβες μακροκατάληκτες ἀρσενικοῦ καὶ θηλυκοῦ γένους σὲ -ς κτλ. Γιατί λοιπὸν νὰ θεωρήσουμε ὅτι στὰ μέσα τῆς πορείας διασπᾶ αὐτὴ τὴ συστηματικὴ γραμμὴ σκέψης καὶ αἴφνης στρέφεται στὸν τόνο γενικῶν πτώσεων; Τὸ ὑπὸ ἐξέτασιν χωρίο, ἂν λάβει τὴν ἑρμηνεία ποὺ τοῦ δώσαμε ἐμεῖς, καθίσταται ἡ μοναδικὴ ὑπάρχουσα μαρτυρία γιὰ τὸ ὅτι ὁ Ἡρωδιανὸς δίδασκε ὅτι στὴν ἀττικὴ διάλεκτο τὸ ἱμᾶς καὶ τὸ ἀνδριᾶς περιεσπῶντο.14 Ἔχουμε ὅμως στοιχεῖα ποὺ θὰ μᾶς ἔκαναν νὰ περιμένουμε τέτοια διδασκαλία ἀπὸ τὸν Ἡρωδιανό;15 Νομίζω ὅτι στήριξη μπορεῖ νὰ μᾶς προσφέρει ὁ ἑξῆς συλλογισμός: ἂν ὁ Ἡρωδιανὸς ἀναγνώρισε ἀναλογία μεταξὺ τῶν αἰτιατικῶν ἱμαντα καὶ ἀλλᾶντα (σχόλ. Ξ 214b), βάσει τῆς ὁποίας ἀπέδωσε στοὺς νεώτε14

15

Κατὰ τὸν Eduard Schwyzer, Griechische Grammatik, τόμ. I, Μόναχο 1939, 383, οἱ περισπώμενοι τύποι ἱμᾶς καὶ ἀνδριᾶς ἀνήκουν στὴ νεώτερη ἀττικὴ διάλεκτο καὶ ἀποτελοῦν ἀναλογικοὺς τονισμούς. Ὡστόσο δὲν προσκομίζει οἱεσδήποτε μαρτυρίες γιὰ τοὺς τύπους αὐτούς. Στὸ Περὶ μονήρους λέξεως σύγγραμμά του ὁ Ἡρωδιανὸς παραθέτει τρεῖς γραμματικούς, τὸν Ἡλιόδωρο, τὸν Τυραννίωνα καὶ τὸν Δράκοντα τὸν Στρατονικέα, οἱ ὁποῖοι ἔβαζαν περισπωμένη στὸ ἱμᾶς καὶ ἀνδριᾶς. Ἡ ἀντίθεση τοῦ Ἡρωδιανοῦ πρὸς αὐτοὺς δὲν ὀφείλεται στὸ ὅτι θεωροῦσε τοὺς τύπους ἀνύπαρκτους, ἀλλὰ στὴν ἐπιθυμία τους νὰ τοὺς εἰσαγάγουν στὸ ὁμηρικὸ κείμενο (κατ’ ἀκρίβειαν, τὸν τύπο ἱμᾶς, διότι τὸ ἀν­ δριάς/ἀνδριᾶς δὲν ἀπαντᾶται στὸν Ὅμηρο). Τὸ κείμενο ἔχει ὡς ἑξῆς: Π. μον. λέξ. 2.939.20 Lentz (=47.12 Papazeti) «Ἀνδριάς …. οὐκ ἀγνοῶ δὲ ὅτι Ἡλιόδωρος (ἀπ. 52 Dyck) ἐβούλετο αὐτὸ (i.e. ἀνδριάς) περισπᾶν.. ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ τὸ ἱμάς. τὸ δ’ αὐτὸ ἠξίου καὶ Δράκων ὁ Στρατονικεύς, ἔτι δὲ καὶ Τυραννίων (ἀπ. 13 Haas). οὐκ ἔχει δὲ οὕτω τὰ τῆς ἀναγνώσεως, ὡς ἐν ἑτέροις ἐδήλωσα». Σημειωτέον ὅτι ὁ Dyck, Heliodorus, 57 σημ. 101 δικαίως θεωρεῖ ὅτι τὸ ἐν ἑτέροις κατὰ πᾶσαν πιθανότητα ἀναφέρεται στὴν Ἰλιακὴ προσῳδία παρὰ στὴν Καθολικὴ προσῳδία.

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ρους Ἀττικοὺς προπερισπώμενον ἱμᾶντα, μποροῦμε νὰ ὑποθέσουμε ὅτι θὰ ἀναγνώριζε ἀκόμη ἰσχυρότερη ἀναλογία μεταξὺ τῶν ὀνομαστικῶν ἱμας καὶ ἀλλᾶς, ποὺ θὰ ὁδηγοῦσε τοὺς Ἀττικοὺς νὰ προφέρουν περισπώμενη ὀνομαστικὴ ἱμᾶς. Ἡ ἀναλογία μεταξὺ τῶν ὀνομαστικῶν θὰ ἦταν ἰσχυρότερη, διότι ἔχουν ἕνα ἐπιπρόσθετο κοινὸ στοιχεῖο, τὸ μακρὸ ἄλφα τῆς λήγουσας, ἐνῶ οἱ αἰτιατικὲς διαφέρουν ὡς πρὸς τὴν ποσότητα τοῦ ἄλφα τῆς παραλήγουσας. Ὅσον ἀφορᾶ τὸ ἀνδριᾶς στὴν ἀττική, θὰ ἦταν πάλι ἀναλογικὸς τονισμὸς βασιζόμενος στοὺς τύπους ποὺ ἱκανοποιοῦσαν τὰ τέσσερα κριτήρια ποὺ προσδιορίσαμε στὴν ἀρχὴ αὐτοῦ τοῦ κριτικοῦ σημειώματος. III Ἀφοῦ ἔχει ἐξετάσει τὸν τονισμὸ τῆς ὀνομαστικῆς πτώσεως, ὁ Ἰωάννης ἀκολούθως, μεταξὺ τῶν στίχων 9.19 καὶ 20.34, πραγματεύεται τὸν τονισμὸ τῶν πλαγίων πτώσεων. Ἐνῶ ἡ πραγμάτευση εἶναι γενικῶς λίαν λεπτομερής – μέχρι βαθμοῦ ὑπερβολῆς, θὰ ἔλεγε κανείς – τὸ τμῆμα ποὺ ἀναφέρεται στὸν τόνο τῆς δοτικῆς ἑνικοῦ (10.35–12.5) παραδόξως καλύπτει μόνο τὶς δοτικὲς ποὺ λήγουν σε -ι (μὲ τὶς ὑποδιαιρέσεις τους). Ἡ παντελὴς ἀπουσία αὐτὴ καθ’ ἑαυτὴν τῶν πολὺ σημαντικῶν δοτικῶν σε -ῳ, -ῃ, καὶ -ᾳ ἐγείρει ὑποψίες φθορᾶς στὴ χειρόγραφη παράδοση. Οἱ ὑποψίες αὐτὲς ἐνισχύονται ἀπὸ τὰ ἑπόμενα τρία χωρία τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων: (1) Στὸ 11.28 κ.ἑξ. ὁ συγγραφέας, καθὼς ἐξηγεῖ τὸν τόνο τῶν μεταπεπλασμένων (ἑτεροκλίτων) δοτικῶν, κάνει λόγο γιὰ δοτικές σὲ -ῳ καὶ σὲ -ῃ: 11.28 Aἱ μεταπεπλασμέναι ὑπὲρ δύο συλλαβὰς ἀπὸ μὲν τῶν εἰς -ῳ προπαροξύνονται. π ο λ υ π α τ ά γ ῳ π ο λ υ π ά τ α γ ι , δ ι χ ο μ ή ν ῳ δ ι χ ό μ η ν ι … ἀπὸ δὲ τῶν εἰς -ῃ προπερισπῶνται. ὑ σ μ ί ν ῃ ὑ σ μ ῖ ν ι …

(2) Στὸ 20.5 κ.ἑξ. ὁ συγγραφέας καθορίζει τοὺς κανόνες ποὺ διέπουν τὸν τονισμὸ τῶν δοτικῶν πληθυντικοῦ σὲ -οις καὶ -αις, δηλαδὴ τῶν δοτικῶν ἐκείνων ποὺ ἀντιστοιχοῦν στὶς δοτικὲς ἑνικοῦ σὲ -ῳ, -ῃ καὶ -ᾳ: 20.5 Αἱ εἰς -αις καὶ εἰς -οις ἀπὸ ὀξυτόνων μὲν ἢ περισπωμένων εὐθειῶν οὖσαι περισπῶνται. ἀ θ λ η τ α ί ἀ θ λ η τ α ῖ ς , κ α λ ο ί κ α λ ο ῖ ς , σ ο φ ο ί σ ο φ ο ῖ ς , ἀλλὰ καὶ ο ἱ Ἑ ρ μ α ῖ τ ο ῖ ς Ἑ ρ μ α ῖ ς , α ἱ χ ρ υ σ α ῖ τ α ῖ ς χ ρ υ σ α ῖ ς . ἀπὸ δὲ βαρυτόνων πρὸ μιᾶς ἔχουσι τὸν τόνον. φ ί λ ο ι φ ί λ ο ι ς , ἵ π π ο ι ἵ π π ο ι ς , Μ ή δ ε ι α ι Μ η δ ε ί α ι ς , τ ά λ α ι ναι ταλαίναις, ξύλα ξύλοις.

(3) Τέλος, ὁ συγγραφέας περιγράφει τὸν τονισμὸ τῶν γενικῶν ἑνικοῦ, τὸ μὲν σὲ -ου (9.34 κ.ἑξ.), τὸ δὲ σὲ -ας καὶ -ης (10.27 κ.ἑξ.), οἱ ὁποῖες πάλι ἀντιστοιχοῦν στὶς ἐλλείπουσες δοτικὲς σὲ -ῳ, -ῃ, καὶ -ᾳ: 9.34 Πᾶσα γενικὴ εἰς -ου λήγουσα ἀπὸ μὲν ὀξυτόνων ὀνομάτων καὶ περισπωμένων περισπᾶται. κ α λ ό ς κ α λ ο ῦ , σ ο φ ό ς σ ο φ ο ῦ , ἀ ρ γ υ ρ ο ῦ ς ἀ ρ γ υ ρ ο ῦ , Ἑ ρ μ ῆ ς Ἑ ρ μ ο ῦ . ἀπὸ δὲ βαρυτόνων πρὸ μιᾶς ἔχει τὸν τόνον. Ὅ μ η ρ ο ς Ὁ μ ή ρ ο υ , ν ῆ σ ο ς νήσου.

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10.27 Αἱ εἰς -ας καὶ -ης γενικαὶ θηλυκαὶ ἀπὸ μὲν ὀξυνομένων εὐθειῶν καὶ περισπωμένων περισπῶνται. ἡ φ ο β ε ρ ά τῆς φ ο β ε ρ ᾶ ς , ἡ κ α λ ή τῆς κ α λ ῆ ς , ἀλλὰ καὶ Ἀ θ η ν ᾶ Ἀ θ η ν ᾶ ς καὶ χ ρ υ σ ῆ χ ρ υ σ ῆ ς . αἱ δὲ ἀπὸ βαρυτόνων πρὸ μιᾶς ἔχουσι τὸν τόνον. Μ ή δ ε ι α Μ η δ ε ί α ς , ὁ σ ί α ὁ σ ί α ς . τὸ μ ι ᾶ ς περισπώμενον ἀπὸ τοῦ μ ί α βαρυνομένου Ἴωσί τινες ἀνατιθέασι, καὶ ἔτι ἀπὸ τοῦ ἴ α τὸ ἰ ᾶ ς . ὁμοίως καὶ τὰς δοτικάς.16

Ὁ a priori συλλογισμὸς ποὺ διατυπώσαμε στὴν ἀρχὴ τῆς ἑνότητας αὐτῆς φαίνεται νὰ συμπίπτει μὲ τὰ δεδομένα ποὺ μᾶς παρέχουν τὰ τρία αὐτὰ χωρία: στὸ αὐτόγραφο τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων πρέπει νὰ ὑπῆρχε χωρίο (ἢ χωρία) μὲ θέμα ἀκριβῶς τὸν τονισμὸ τῶν δοτικῶν ἑνικοῦ σε -ῳ, -ῃ καὶ -ᾳ, τὸ ὁποῖο ἐξέπεσε κατὰ τὴν παράδοση. Ποῦ ὅμως ἀκριβῶς πρέπει νὰ σημειωθεῖ τὸ χάσμα καὶ πῶς ἄραγε πρέπει νὰ συμπληρωθεῖ; Ἡ φράση ὁμοίως καὶ τὰς δοτικάς στὸ ἀμέσως προηγούμενο χωρίο, τοποθετημένη στὸ τέλος τῆς ἑνότητας ποὺ ἀφορᾶ τὸν τονισμὸ τῶν γενικῶν ἑνικοῦ, μπορεῖ νὰ χαρακτηρισθεῖ ὡς ἁρμόδια γέφυρα ποὺ θὰ συνέδεε ἐντὸς τοῦ αὐτογράφου τὴν ἑνότητα τῶν γενικῶν ἑνικοῦ μὲ τὴν ἑνότητα τῶν δοτικῶν ἑνικοῦ – εἰδικότερα τὶς γενικὲς ἑνικοῦ σὲ -ας καὶ -ης, ποὺ μόλις ἔχουν ἐξετασθεῖ, μὲ τὶς δοτικὲς ἑνικοῦ σὲ -ᾳ καὶ -ῃ, ποὺ ἀντιστοιχοῦν σὲ αὐτές. Ἀξίζει ἐπίσης νὰ διερωτηθοῦμε ἂν οἱ δοτικὲς ἑνικοῦ σὲ -ῳ θὰ ἐξετάζονταν σὲ χωριστὴ ἑνότητα ἢ ἂν θὰ ἦταν συνδυασμένες μὲ τὶς δοτικὲς ἑνικοῦ σὲ -ᾳ καὶ -ῃ. Τὸ χωρίο ποὺ παραθέσαμε ὑπὸ τὸ (2) μᾶς ὁδηγεῖ στὴν ἰδέα τοῦ συνδυασμοῦ, ὅπως ἀκριβῶς ἔχει γίνει καὶ μὲ τὶς δοτικὲς πληθυντικοῦ σὲ -αις καὶ -οις. Ὁμολογουμένως ὁ Ἰωάννης πραγματεύεται χωριστὰ τὶς γενικὲς ἑνικοῦ σὲ -ου ἀφ’ ἑνός, καὶ τὶς γενικὲς ἑνικοῦ σὲ -ας καὶ -ης ἀφ’ ἑτέρου. Ὅμως ἡ δεύτερη ὁμάδα γενικῶν ἀνήκει ἀποκλειστικὰ καὶ μόνον σὲ θηλυκὰ οὐσιαστικά: τὸ γένος παίζει ρόλο στὶς ταξινομήσεις τοῦ Ἰωάννη σὲ ἀρκετὰ σημεῖα, ἀσχέτως τοῦ ἂν ἐπηρεάζει τὸν τονισμὸ ἢ ὄχι: πβ. Τον. Παρ. 7.20, 7.25 (ἡ ἔννοια «θηλυκὰ ὀνόματα» ὑποκρύπτεται), 7.28, 7.34 κτλ. Τέλος, τὰ χωρία ὑπὸ τὸ (2) καὶ (3) ὑποδεικνύουν τὸν γενικὸ τύπο ποὺ θὰ ἀκολουθοῦσε τὸ περιεχόμενο τῆς ἀπολεσθείσης παραγράφου. Γιὰ τὸ ποιά ὅμως παραδείγματα χρησιμοποιήθηκαν δὲν μποροῦμε νὰ εἴμαστε καθόλου βέβαιοι. Παραθέτουμε κατωτέρω τὴν παράγραφο ἀποκατεστημένη στὸ πλαίσιο τῶν συμφραζομένων της: 10.33 … ὁμοίως καὶ τὰς δοτικάς. Πᾶσα δοτικὴ δισύλλαβος εἰς -ι ἐκφωνούμενον λήγουσα ἑνική τε καὶ πληθυντικὴ ὀξύνεται …

Ἡ ἔκπτωση τῶν προστεθέντος ὑλικοῦ εὔκολα θὰ μποροῦσε νὰ συμβεῖ λόγῳ τοῦ ὁμοιοάρκτου τῶν διαδοχικῶν ἑνοτήτων. IV.1 Ὅπως ἀναφέραμε στὴν εἰσαγωγή, μία ἐπιπρόσθετη καὶ μάλιστα σημαντικὴ πηγὴ βοηθείας γιὰ τὸν κριτικὸ τοῦ κειμένου τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων προσφέρουν ἄλλοι συγγραφεῖς, οἱ ὁποῖοι ἐπίσης βασίσθηκαν στὴν Καθο­ λική. Ὡστόσο ἡ εἰδικὴ αὐτὴ πηγὴ βοηθείας πρέπει νὰ ἀντιμετωπίζεται μὲ «κριτικὸν ὄμμα» καὶ ἰδιαίτερη περίσκεψη γιὰ τὸν ἁπλούστατο λόγο ὅτι ἕκαστος τῶν συγγραφέων αὐτῶν ἄντλησε μόνο ἐκεῖνο τὸ ὑλικὸ τῆς Καθολικῆς ποὺ ἦταν σύμφωνο μὲ τὸν χαρακτῆρα τοῦ ἔργου του καὶ τὸ ἀναπροσάρμοσε μὲ τέτοιο τρόπο, ὥστε νὰ ἱκανοποιεῖται πληρέστερα ὁ ἰδιαίτερος σκοπὸς τοῦ ἔργου του. Θὰ προσπαθήσουμε νὰ διευκρινίσουμε τὴ μεθοδολογία ποὺ ἀφορᾶ τὸ θέμα αὐτὸ μὲ βάση τέσσερα συγκεκριμένα χωρία τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελ­ μάτων, τὰ ὁποῖα ἀντιστοιχοῦν σὲ τμήματα ἔργων ἄλλων συγγραφέων. Ξεκινοῦμε μὲ ἕνα χωρίο, τοῦ ὁποίου ἀνάλογο τμῆμα περιέχεται στὸ Περὶ τῆς συντάξεως τοῦ λόγου σύγγραμμα τοῦ Μιχαὴλ Συγκέλλου. Σημειωτέον ὅτι, ὅπως πρόσφατα ἐπισημάνθηκε, ὁ Μιχαὴλ Σύγκελλος εἶχε ἄμεση πρόσβαση στὴν Καθολική: τὴ χρησιμοποίησε, γιὰ νὰ συνθέσει τὴ διδασκαλία του περὶ ἀναστροφῆς προθέσεων καὶ περὶ συνδέσμου ἤ/ἦ.17 Στὸ χωρίο 27.28 κ.ἑξ. ὁ Ἰωάννης προσδιορίζει τὰ χαρακτηριστικὰ ποὺ πρέπει νὰ διαθέτει μιὰ πρόθεση προκειμένου, ἂν βρεθεῖ στὸ κατάλληλο περιβάλλον, νὰ μπορεῖ νὰ ἀναστραφεῖ, νὰ ἀναβιβάσει δηλαδὴ τὸν τόνο της: πρέπει νὰ εἶναι δισύλλαβος καὶ δίχρονος, νὰ ἀποτελεῖται δηλαδὴ ἀπὸ δύο βραχεῖες συλλαβές. Ἐν συνεχείᾳ ἐπισημαίνει μιὰ ἐξαίρεση: ἡ πρόθεση διά, ἂν καὶ φέρει τὶς δύο αὐτὲς ἰδιότητες, ἐντούτοις δὲν ἀναστρέφεται. Τὸ πλῆρες κείμενο ἔχει ὡς ἑξῆς: 27.28 Καθόλου δὲ αἱ ἀναστρεφόμεναι δισύλλαβοί τε εἶναι 〈θέλουσι〉 καὶ δίχρονοι. ὅθεν τριχρονοῦσαι ἡ ἀ ν τ ί καὶ ἀ μ φ ί οὐκ ἀναστρέφονται οὐδὲ αἱ τῷ -ι πλεονάζουσαι. κ α τ α ί , π α ρ α ί , ὑ π ε ί ρ . σημειούμεθα τὴν δ ι ά χώραν ἔχουσαν ἀναστροφῆς καὶ μὴ ἀναστρεφομένην διὰ τὴν πρὸς τὸν Δ ί α συνέμπτωσιν. ἡ δὲ ἐ ν πλεονάσασα τῷ -ι ἀνεστράφη. «ᾧ ἔνι κούρη / κοιμᾶτο» (ζ 15–6).

Τὸ ἀντίστοιχο χωρίο τοῦ Μιχαὴλ Συγκέλλου εἶναι τὸ ἀκόλουθο: Μιχ. Συγκ. 1135 (ἔκδ. Donnet) Τῶν δὲ δισυλλάβων αἱ μὲν δίχρονοι ἔν τε τοῖς πεζοῖς καὶ ἐν τοῖς ἐμμέτροις ἀναστρέφονται παρὲξ τῆς διά ἵνα μὴ συνεμπέσῃ τῇ αἰτιατικῇ τοῦ Ζεύς ὀνόματος, τουτέστιν τῇ Δία, καὶ τῆς ἀνά, ἵνα μὴ συνεμπέσῃ τῷ. «ἄνα / Λητοῦς 17

Τὰ ἀποδεικτικὰ στοιχεῖα καὶ ὁ τρόπος μὲ τὸν ὁποῖο ὁ Μιχαὴλ ἐμπλουτίζει τὶς γνώσεις μας γιὰ τὸ περιεχόμενο, τὶς γραφὲς καὶ τὸν τρόπο διατάξεως τῆς ὕλης στὴν Καθολική εὑρίσκονται στὸν Xenis, Michael Syncellus.

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υἱέ» (Ἀ. Ῥόδ. 2.214–5). αἱ δὲ τρίχρονοι οὐκ ἀναστρέφονται, ἥ τε ἀμφί καὶ ἀντί, ὅθεν οὐδὲ αἱ τὸ -ι πλεονάζουσαι οἷον καταί, παραί, ὑπείρ, ἅτε τρίχρονοι γενόμεναι οὐκ ἀναστρέφονται. Ἡ δὲ ἐν πρόθεσις δισυλλαβήσασα καὶ διχρονήσασα ἀναστρέφεται, οἷον. «ἡμετέρῳ ἔνι οἴκῳ» (Α 30), καὶ πάλιν «ᾧ ἔνι κούρη / κοιμᾶτο» (ζ 15–6).

Συγκρίνοντας τὰ πανόμοια αὐτὰ χωρία, βλέπουμε ὅτι ὁ Μιχαὴλ δίνει δύο σημαντικὰ στοιχεῖα ποὺ ἀπουσιάζουν ἀπὸ τὸν Ἰωάννη: τὴ διδασκαλία γιὰ τὴ μὴ ἀναστροφὴ τῆς πρόθεσης ἀνά καὶ τὸ ἐπιπρόσθετο ὁμηρικὸ παράδειγμα Α 30 ἐν σχέσει πρὸς τὴν πρόθεση ἔνι. Πρέπει νὰ ἐντάξουμε αὐτὰ τὰ στοιχεῖα τῆς Καθολικῆς στὰ Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα;18 Ἂς ξεκινήσουμε ἀπὸ τὸ δεύτερο σημεῖο, τὸ Α 30. Ἡ Καθολικὴ προσῳ­ δία ἐκτεινόταν σὲ εἴκοσι βιβλία καὶ ἕνα παράρτημα. Τὸ τεράστιο μέγεθός της ἦταν ἀσφαλῶς ὁ λόγος ποὺ ὤθησε στὴ δημιουργία ἀρκετῶν ἐπιτομῶν ἤδη ἀπὸ τὸν 4ο αἰ.,19 μία ἀπὸ τὶς ὁποῖες εἶναι καὶ τὰ Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα. Ἕνας ἀπὸ τοὺς συντελεστὲς τῶν πελώριων διαστάσεών της ἦταν καὶ ἡ ὕπαρξη μεγάλου ἀριθμοῦ παραδειγμάτων πρὸς διευκρίνιση τοῦ κάθε προσωδιακοῦ κανόνα. Σημειώνει λ.χ. ὁ Ἰωάννης στὸ 37.33 «Τὰ εἰς -δην πάντα βαρύνεται. κ λ έ 〈β〉 δ η ν , μ ί γ δ η ν , ἐ μ π λ ή γ δ η ν , κ λ ή δ η ν , ἄ δ η ν , ἐ π α ΐ γ δ η ν , β ά δ η ν καὶ ἄλλα μυρία». Τὸ καὶ ἄλλα μυρία εὔγλωττα δηλώνει τὴν ἐντύπωση τοῦ Ἰωάννη γιὰ τὴν ἀφθονία τῶν παραδειγμάτων ποὺ ἔδινε ὁ Ἡρωδιανὸς στὸ συγκεκριμένο σημεῖο. Ἡ ὀρθότητα τῆς ἐντύπωσης τοῦ Ἰωάννη ἐπιβεβαιώνεται ἀπὸ τὸ ἀντίστοιχο σημεῖο τοῦ Περὶ ὀρθογρα­ φίας συγγράμματος τοῦ Θεογνώστου, τὸ ὁποῖο ἐπίσης, ὡς γνωστόν, στηρίχθηκε στὴν Καθολική:20 161.19 (κανὼν 976) «Τὰ εἰς -δην ἐπιρρήματα διὰ τοῦ -η γράφονται, οἷον χύδην, φύρδην, ἀλλάγδην, παμπήδην, σποράδην, κρύβδην, μίγδην, διαρρήδην». Βλέπουμε ὅτι ὅλα τὰ παραδείγματα τοῦ Θεογνώστου μὲ τὴν ἐξαίρεση τοῦ μίγδην εἶναι διαφορετικὰ ἀπὸ ὅσα σταχυολόγησε ὁ Ἰωάννης. Ὄντως λοιπὸν μυρία τὰ παραδείγματα τῆς Καθολικῆς! Ἡ περικοπὴ ἀπὸ τὸ κείμενο πολλῶν ἀπὸ τὰ παραδείγματα ἀποτελοῦσε συχνὸ μέλημα τῶν ἐπιτομέων. Ἰδοὺ πῶς περιγράφει τὸ θέμα αὐτὸ ὁ συντάκτης τῆς ἐπιτομῆς τοῦ [Ἀρκαδίου]: 2.12 «ἀλλὰ καὶ τὸ πολὺ πλῆθος τῶν παραδειγμάτων … καταλέλειπται τῷ συγγραφεῖ». Τὸ ὅτι καὶ ὁ Ἰωάννης ἀκολούθησε τὴν ἴδια πορεία μὲ τὸν [Ἀρκάδιο] τὸ πιστοποιεῖ ἡ πρακτική του σὲ πολλά σημεῖα. Στὸ 36.36 λ.χ. δίνει ἕνα μόνο παράδειγμα, τὸ ἀπνευστί, ἐνῶ ἡ Καθολικὴ πρέπει νὰ διέθετε ἄφθονα, ὅπως μποροῦμε νὰ κρίνουμε ἀπὸ τὸ ἀντίστοιχο σημείο (159.18, καν. 963) τοῦ Θεογνώστου, ὅπου δίνονται τὰ παραδείγματα 〈ἀν〉αιμωτί, ἀκλαυστί, ἀνιδρωτί, 18

19 20

Ὑπάρχει καὶ τὸ ἐνδεχόμενο ὁ Ἰωάννης νὰ εἶχε χρησιμοποιήσει ἀντίγραφο τῆς Καθολι­ κῆς τὸ ὁποῖο εἶχε χάσματα, νόθους γραφές καὶ ἄλλου τύπου φθορές. Ὅμως δὲν διαθέτουμε κανένα μέσο ποὺ θὰ μᾶς βοηθοῦσε νὰ ἀντιληφθοῦμε ἂν καὶ κατὰ πόσον ἰσχύει αὐτὸ τὸ ἐνδεχόμενο. Dyck, Aelius Herodian, 776. Γιὰ τὴν ἐξάρτηση τοῦ Θεογνώστου ἀπὸ τὴν Καθολικὴ καὶ τὴ μέθοδο μὲ τὴν ὁποῖα μετέτρεπε τοὺς προσωδιακοὺς κανόνες τῆς Καθολικῆς σὲ ὀρθογραφικοὺς κανόνες, βλ. πρόσφατα Roussou, Pseudo-Arcadius’ Epitome, 136–9 μὲ τὴ σχετικὴ βιβλιογραφία. Ὁ σκεπτικισμὸς τῆς Ρούσσου γιὰ τὴν ἐπιβίωση τῆς ἴδιας τῆς Καθολικῆς ὡς τὸν 9ο αἰ. ἐλέγχεται ἀστήρικτος ἀπὸ τὸν Xenis, Michael Syncellus, 8–9 with n. 36.

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ἀγελαστί, ἀπηρωτί, ἀπνευστί, αὐτονυχί, ἀπαυστί. Κατόπιν τούτων, μπορούμε να συμπεράνουμε ὅτι ἡ ἀπουσία τοῦ ὁμηρικοῦ παραδείγματος Α 30 ἀπὸ τὰ Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα ὑπῆρξε συνειδητὴ ἐπιλογὴ τοῦ Ἰωάννη. Στρεφόμενοι τώρα στὸν τονισμὸ τῆς προθέσεως ἀνά, παρατηροῦμε ὅτι ἡ περίπτωση αὐτὴ εἶναι διαφορετική. Ἐδῶ ἔχουμε καινούργια πληροφορία καὶ μάλιστα πολὺ σημαντική: ὅτι ὁ Ἡρωδιανὸς ἐξαιροῦσε ἀπὸ τὴ δυνατότητα ἀναβιβασμοῦ τοῦ τόνου παραλλήλως πρὸς τὴν διά καὶ τὴν ἀνά, ὥστε νὰ ἀποτραπεῖ ὁ κίνδυνος συγχύσεώς της μὲ τὴν κλητικὴ πτώση ἄνα.21 Ἐπίσης ἔχουμε καὶ ἕνα παράδειγμα ἀπὸ τὸν Ἀπολλώνιο Ῥόδιο πρὸς διευκρίνιση τῆς πληροφορίας. Ἐδῶ δὲν μποροῦμε νὰ ὑποθέσουμε ὅτι ὁ Ἰωάννης εἶχε θεωρήσει τὴν πληροφορία αὐτὴ τοῦ προτύπου του δευτερεύουσα καὶ περιττή. Θὰ μποροῦσε κανεὶς νὰ σκεφθεῖ ὅτι διαφωνοῦσε μὲ τὴν πληροφορία καὶ γι’ αὐτὸ τὴν παρέλειψε.22 Πάλι ὅμως μᾶς λείπουν τὰ στοιχεῖα ποὺ θὰ στήριζαν τέτοιο ἐνδεχόμενο. Ἔτσι πιθανότερη λύση παραμένει αὐτὴ ποὺ σκέφθηκε ἤδη τὸ 1837 ὁ Karl Lehrs, ἔστω καὶ μὲ ἀνεπαρκῆ ἐκεῖνος τότε τεκμηρίωση: ‘Apud Jo. Al. ἀνά casu excidit’.23 Ἡ μεθοδολογικὴ ἀρχὴ ποὺ προκύπτει ἀπὸ τὴν προηγηθεῖσα ἀνάλυση εἶναι ὅτι δὲν θὰ πρέπει αὐτομάτως νὰ ὑποθέτουμε ὅτι κάτι ἐξέπεσε ἀπὸ τὸ κείμενο τοῦ Ἰωάννη κατὰ τὴν παράδοση, κάθε φορὰ ποὺ θὰ ἀνακαλύπτουμε σὲ ἕνα ἀπὸ τοὺς ἄλλους συγγραφεῖς τὴν παρουσία ἑνὸς στοιχείου τῆς Καθολικῆς τὸ ὁποῖο ἀπουσιάζει ἀπὸ τὰ χειρόγραφα τῶν Τονικῶν πα­ ραγγελμάτων. Πρὶν εἰκάσουμε ἔκπτωση ὑλικοῦ θὰ πρέπει νὰ λαμβάνουμε ὑπόψη μας τὸ ἐνδεχόμενο ὁ Ἰωάννης συνειδητὰ νὰ ἀπέκλεισε ἀπὸ τὴν ἐπιτομή του στοιχεῖα ποὺ ὑπῆρχαν στὴν Καθολική. Βάσει λοιπὸν τῆς μεθοδολογίας αὐτῆς ἀποκαθιστοῦμε τὸ κείμενο τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων ὡς ἀκολούθως: 27.28 Καθόλου δὲ αἱ ἀναστρεφόμεναι δισύλλαβοί τε εἶναι 〈θέλουσι〉 καὶ δίχρονοι. ὅθεν τριχρονοῦσαι ἡ ἀ ν τ ί καὶ ἀ μ φ ί οὐκ ἀναστρέφονται οὐδὲ αἱ τῷ -ι πλεονάζουσαι. κ α τ α ί , π α ρ α ί , ὑ π ε ί ρ . σημειούμεθα τὴν δ ι ά χώραν ἔχουσαν ἀναστροφῆς καὶ μὴ ἀναστρεφομένην διὰ τὴν πρὸς τὸν Δ ί α συνέμπτωσιν. 〈ὁμοίως καὶ τὴν ἀνά διὰ τὴν τοῦ «ἄνα Λητοῦς / υἱέ»24 (A.R. 2.214–5) συνέμπτωσιν〉. ἡ δὲ ἐ ν πλεονάσασα τῷ -ι ἀνεστράφη· «ᾧ ἔνι κούρη / κοιμᾶτο» (ζ 15–6). 21 22 23

24

Βλ. καὶ Ἡρωδ. Π. Ἰλιακῆς προσῳδίας παρὰ τῷ σχολ. Ε 824a, ὅπου ὁ Ἡρωδιανὸς φαίνεται νὰ ἀποδέχεται τὴν ἄποψη τοῦ Ἀριστάρχου ὅτι ἡ πρόθεση ἀνά δὲν ἀναστρέφεται, ἐξαιτίας τοῦ ὅτι θὰ ὑπῆρχε κίνδυνος συγχύσεως μὲ τὴν κλητικὴ ἄνα. Δὲν θὰ ἦταν ὁ μοναδικός, ἂν ἴσχυε αὐτὸ τὸ ἐνδεχόμενο. Τὴν ἀνά συγκατέλεγε στὶς ἀναστρεφόμενες προθέσεις καὶ ὁ Ἀπολλώνιος ὁ Σοφιστής (30.21). Karl Lehrs, Quaestiones epicae, Regimontii Prussorum 1837, 72. Ὁ Lehrs εἴκασε ἔκπτωση τῆς ἀνά ἀπὸ τὰ Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα χωρὶς νὰ γνωρίζει τὸ χωρίο τῆς Καθολικῆς ποὺ διασώζει ὁ Μιχαήλ. Στηρίχθηκε στὸ γεγονὸς ὅτι ὁ Ἡρωδιανὸς δίδασκε τὴν ἐξαίρεση τῆς ἀνά ἀπὸ τοὺς κανόνες τῆς ἀναστροφῆς (τὴν ἐν λόγῳ διδασκαλία τὴν ἄντλησε ἀπὸ σχόλ. Ε 824a, σχόλ. Διον. Θρ. (Ἡλιοδώρου) 94.27, [Ἀρκ.]. 204.18, Ἐπ. Ὁμ. α 264, Εὐστ. Ἰλ. I 119.5–7 (ὁ [Ἀρκ.]. 210.18 θεωρῶ ὅτι ἀνήκει σὲ νόθο τμῆμα τῆς ἐπιτομῆς). Ὁ Lentz 480.14–7 ἐντάσσει τὰ περὶ τῆς ἀνά στὴν ἀνασυγκροτημένη μορφὴ τῆς Καθολικῆς ἀντλώντας τα ἀπὸ τὰ σχόλ. Διον. Θρ. ποὺ ἀναφέραμε ἀνωτέρω. Ὡστόσο δὲν ἐξηγεῖ γιατί θεωρεῖ ὅτι τὸ ἐν λόγῳ σχόλιο ἀκολουθεῖ τὴν Καθολική. Γιὰ τὴ σύνταξη στὸ ‹διὰ τὴν τοῦ «ἄνα Λητοῦς/ υἱέ» συνέμπτωσιν› πβ. 37.6 τὸ δέ «χῶρι

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ΙV.2 Στὸ χωρίο 38.1 κ.ἑξ., ἀπὸ τὸ πλούσιο σὲ λεπτομέρειες κεφάλαιο γιὰ τὸν τόνο τῶν ἐπιρρημάτων, ὁ Ἰωάννης πραγματεύεται τὸν τόνο τῶν ἐπιρρημάτων ἐκείνων ποὺ λήγουν σὲ -ον. Τὰ διαιρεῖ σὲ δύο ὁμάδες: σὲ ὅσα λήγουν σὲ -δον καὶ εἰς τὰ «πρὸ τοῦ -ο- τὸ -ι- ἔχοντα»: 38.1 Τὰ εἰς -δον πάντα ὀξύνεται. χ α ν δ ό ν , σ χ ε δ ό ν , β ο τ ρ υ δ ό ν , ἀ γ ε λ η δ ό ν . μόνον τὸ ἔ ν δ ο ν βαρύνεται, διότι μόνον παρὰ πρόθεσιν καὶ ὅτι μόνον τοπικὸν τῶν εἰς -δον. Τὰ εἰς -ον λήγοντα πρὸ τοῦ -ο- τὸ -ι- ἔχοντα βαρύνεται. ἔ γ γ ι ο ν , π ό ρ σ ι ο ν , ὕψιον.

Ἡ ἀνωτέρω διαίρεση ἐγείρει ὑποψίες, καθὼς δὲν καλύπτει ἐπιρρήμματα ὅπως τὸ σήμερον, τὸ μᾶλλον κτλ., δηλαδὴ ἐπιρρήματα τὰ ὁποῖα πρὸ τοῦ -οἔχουν ἄλλο σύμφωνο ἐκτὸς τοῦ -δ-. Οἱ ὑποψίες ἐνισχύονται, διότι στὴν ἀμέσως προηγούμενη ἑνότητα ὁ Ἰωάννης ἀκολουθεῖ ἀκριβῶς τὸ σχῆμα ποὺ θὰ περιμέναμε καὶ στὸ ὑπὸ ἐξέτασιν χωρίο: πραγματεύεται τὸν τόνο τῶν ἐπιρρημάτων ποὺ λήγουν σὲ -δην (37.33: κλέβδην, μίγδην κτλ) καὶ ἐκείνων ποὺ πρὸ τοῦ -η- ἔχουν ἄλλο σύμφωνο ἐκτὸς τοῦ -δ- (37.35, ἔστω καὶ ἂν δὲν τὸ δηλώνει ρητῶς: βύζην, ἔμπλην κτλ).25 Ἑπομένως ἂν στὴν Καθολικὴ ὑπῆρχε ὁ κανόνας γιὰ τὰ ἐν λόγῳ ἐπιρρήματα, δὲν μποροῦμε – λογικὰ σκεπτόμενοι – νὰ ὑποθέσουμε ὅτι ὁ Ἰωάννης θὰ τὸν παρέλειπε. Πράγματι στὴν Καθολικὴ ὑπῆρχε ὁ κανόνας – μαρτυρεῖ περὶ τούτου τὸ Περὶ ὀρθογραφίας τοῦ Θεογνώστου: 162.3 (καν. 980) Τὰ εἰς -δον ἐπιρρήματα διὰ τοῦ -ο- μικροῦ γράφονται καὶ ὀξύνονται· παραλήγεται δὲ ἢ τῷ -η-, ὡς ἀγεληδόν, σωρηδόν, κιονηδόν, ταυρηδόν, κρουνηδόν, βομβηδόν, ἢ τῷ -ε-, ὡς τὸ σχεδόν, ἢ τῷ -υ-, ὡς τὸ βοτρυδόν, ἢ τῷ -α-, ὡς τὸ εἰλαδόν, ἐνωπαδόν, ὁμαδόν, ἢ τῷ -αν- ὡς τὸ χανδόν, φανδόν, ἀναφανδόν. σεσημείωται τὸ ἔνδον συγκείμενον ἐκ προθέσεως καὶ βαρυνόμενον καὶ δηλοῦν τοπικὴν σχέσιν. λήγει δὲ καὶ εἰς -δος. ἔνδος γὰρ λέγεται πολλάκις καὶ ἔνδοι. τέσσαρσιν οὖν διαφοραῖς διαλλάξαν οὐδὲν θαυμαστὸν εἰ καὶ κατὰ τόνον διήλλαξεν.

162.14 (καν. 981) Τὰ εἰς -ον ἐπιρρήματα μὴ ἔχοντα πρὸ τοῦ -ο- τὸ -δ-, ἀλλ’ ἢ ἕτερον σύμφωνον ἢ τὸ -ι-, διὰ τοῦ -ο- μικροῦ γράφεται, οἷον σήμερον, αὐθημερόν, αὐθωρόν, μᾶλλον, ἧττον, ἆσσον, αὔριον, ἔγγιον. τὸ ἐξόν μετοχικὸν ἐκ τῆς ἐξ προθέσεως καὶ τοῦ ὄν οὐδετέρου.

Κατόπιν τούτων τὸ ἐν λόγῳ χωρίο τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων ἀναθεωρεῖται ὡς ἀκολούθως: 38.1 Τὰ εἰς -δον πάντα ὀξύνεται. χ α ν δ ό ν , σ χ ε δ ό ν , β ο τ ρ υ δ ό ν , ἀ γ ε λ η δ ό ν . μόνον τὸ ἔ ν δ ο ν βαρύνεται, διότι μόνον παρὰ πρόθεσιν καὶ ὅτι μόνον τοπικὸν τῶν εἰς -δον. Τὰ εἰς -ον λήγοντα πρὸ τοῦ -ο- 〈τὸ -δ- μὴ ἔχοντα ἀλλ’ ἕτερον σύμφωνον βαρύνεται. * * * *. ὁμοίως καὶ τὰ εἰς -ον λήγοντα πρὸ τοῦ -ο-〉 τὸ -ι- ἔχοντα βαρύνεται. ἔ γ γιον, πόρσιον, ὕψιον.

Ποιά ἀκριβῶς παραδείγματα (λ.χ. σήμερον, μᾶλλον, ἧττον, ἆσσον) εἶχε μεταχειρισθεῖ ὁ Ἰωάννης μετὰ τὸ βαρύνεται δὲν μποροῦμε νὰ γνωρίζουμε. 25

διατμήγουσι» (Call. fr. 302.2 Pf.) βαρύνεται. Ὁ Lentz (στὸ 509.19) δὲν φαίνεται νὰ συνειδητοποίησε τὸ πρόβλημα.

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Πολὺ πιθανὸν θεωρῶ καὶ τὸ ἐνδεχόμενο νὰ εἶχε ἐξηγήσει ὅτι ἐπιρρήματα ὅπως τὸ αὐθωρόν26 καὶ τὸ αὐθημερόν δὲν μειώνουν τὴν ἰσχὺ τοῦ κανόνα, διότι αὐτὰ εἶναι ὀνοματικὰ καὶ ὄχι θεματικά – τὸ χωρίο μας ἀνήκει στὴν ἑνότητα τῶν θεματικῶν ἐπιρρημάτων, ἡ ὁποία ἔχει ἀρχίσει ἀπὸ τὸ 30.30. Τὸ ἀνάλογον εἶχε πράξει καὶ ὀλίγον ἐνωρίτερα (37.36): τόνισε ὅτι τὸ ἀκμήν καὶ ἐθελοντήν, ὡς ὀνοματικά, δὲν καλύπτονται ἀπὸ τὸν κανόνα ποὺ ἀναφέρεται στὰ θεματικὰ βύζην, ἔμπλην, ἄντην. Τὸ ὅτι τὸ αὐθημερόν τὸ ἔχει ἤδη ἀναφέρει στὸ τμῆμα τῶν ὀνοματικῶν, συγκεκριμένα στὸ 30.24, δὲν θὰ ἀπέτρεπε τὸν Ἰωάννη νὰ τὸ ἐπαναλάβει καὶ στὸ ὑπὸ ἐξέτασιν χωρίο: τὸ ἴδιο ἔκανε πάλι σὲ σχέση μὲ τὸ ἀκμήν (29.35 καὶ 37.36). ΙV.3 Στὰ μονοσύλλαβα θεματικὰ ἐπιρρήματα ποὺ ἔχουν τὴ δίφθογγο -αι- ὁ Ἰωάννης ἐντάσσει μόνο τὸ ἐπιφωνηματικὸ αἴ καὶ τὸ ἐπίρρημα συγκατανεύσεως ναί, ἐνῶ ὁ Θεόγνωστος παρέχει ἐπιπλέον καὶ τὸ «εὐκτικὸν» αἴ. Τὰ δύο χωρία: Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα 32.24 Τὰ τὴν αι δίφθογγον ἔχοντα ὀξύνεται, οἷον « α ἴ τ ά λ α ς » (Men. Mis. 177), ν α ί .

Θεογνώστου Περὶ ὀρθογραφίας 155.30 (καν. 940) Τὰ εἰς -αι λήγοντα ἐπιρρήματα μονοσύλλαβα, τρία ἐστίν. αἴ τὸ ὀξυνόμενον, ὡς ὅταν λέγωμεν «αἴ τάλας» (Men. Mis. 177). καὶ αἴ τὸ εὐκτικόν, ὅπερ ἀπὸ τοῦ εἴ γέγονεν Δωρικῇ τροπῇ τοῦ ε εἰς α, ὡς κύπειρον κύπαιρον. καὶ τὸ ναί συγκαταθέσεως. Θεωρῶ πολὺ πιθανὸ ὅτι τὸ «εὐκτικὸν» αἴ ἐξέπεσε ἀπὸ τὰ χειρόγραφα τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων. Ἡ ἄποψή μου βασίζεται στὰ ἑξῆς: 1) στὸ 33.34 ἡ διδασκαλία γιὰ τὸ προπαροξύτονον αἴθε δὲν γίνεται κατανοητὴ χωρὶς τὴν πληροφορία ὅτι τὸ «εὐκτικὸν» αἴ ὀξύνεται. (Ἐπίσης στὸ 5.22 ἐν σχέσει πρὸς τὸ αἴθε προϋποτίθεται ὅτι τὸ αἴ λαμβάνει ὀξεῖα). 2) Τὸ ἀντίστοιχο «εὐκτικὸν» εἰ (32.15) τυγχάνει πραγματεύσεως καθ’ ὅμοιον τρόπο μὲ τὸ εἴθε (5.22 καὶ 33.33). Ἀσφαλῶς τὸ σημεῖο (1) εἶναι πολὺ ἰσχυρότερο ἔρεισμα ἀπὸ τὸ (2). Tὸ κείμενο θὰ τὸ ἀποκαθιστοῦσα ὡς ἑξῆς: Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα 32.24 Τὰ τὴν αι δίφθογγον ἔχοντα ὀξύνεται, οἷον < α ἴ > , « α ἴ τ ά λ α ς » (Men. Mis. 177), ν α ί .

Βέβαια θὰ προτιμοῦσε κανεὶς νὰ ὑπάρχει στὸ κείμενο τοῦ Ἰωάννη καὶ διευκρίνιση σχετικὰ μὲ τὴ φύση τοῦ προστεθέντος ἐπιρρήματος, ὅπως ὑπάρχει καὶ στὸν Θεόγνωστο. Ὡστόσο δεδομένου ὅτι δὲν δίνεται τέτοια διευκρίνιση οὔτε γιὰ τὸ ἐπιφωνηματικὸ αἴ οὔτε γιὰ τὸ ἐπίρρημα συγκατανεύσεως ναί, δὲν μποροῦμε νὰ ὑποθέσουμε τὴν ὕπαρξη στὸ αὐτόγραφο διευκρίνισης γιὰ τὸ «εὐκτικὸν» αἴ. Οὔτε θὰ πρέπει νὰ ἐγείρει ἀμφιβολία ἡ ὕπαρξη τοῦ παραδείγματος « α ἴ τ ά λ α ς » χωρὶς νὰ ἔχει προηγηθεῖ ἡ χωριστὴ ἀναφορὰ τοῦ 26

Ὁ Lentz (στὸ 509.19) δὲν δικαιολογεῖ τὴ σκέψη του ὅτι τὸ αὐθωρόν, ποὺ παραδίδεται ἀπὸ τὸν Θεόγνωστο, δὲν ἀνῆκε στὴν Καθολική.

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ἐπιφωνηματικοῦ αἴ: τὸ φαινόμενο ἀπαντᾶ καὶ σὲ σχέση μὲ τὶς γενικὲς Ὦπος καὶ υἷος στὸ πιὸ κάτω χωρίο: Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα 10.9 ἡ « Ὦ π ο ς θ υ γ ά τ η ρ » (α 429) πρὸς ἀντιδιαστολὴν τοῦ ὀφθαλμοῦ. ἡ « υ ἷ ο ς ἑ ο ῖ ο » (Ν 522, Ξ 9, Σ 138) ἐκ τρισυλλάβου τῆς ὕ ϊ ο ς προπαροξυτόνου

ΙV.4 Θὰ ὁλοκληρώσουμε τὴν ἑνότητα ΙV καὶ τὴν ὅλη ἐργασία μὲ μιὰ περίπτωση ποὺ ἀφορᾶ καὶ πάλι τὰ κριτήρια μὲ τὰ ὁποῖα κρίνουμε ὅτι δὲν ἔχουμε ἔρεισμα, ὥστε νὰ ὑποθέσουμε ὅτι ὑλικὸ τῆς Καθολικῆς σωζόμενο σὲ ἄλλους συγγραφεῖς ἐξέπεσε ἀπὸ τὸν Ἰωάννη. Ἡ ἀνάλυση αὐτὴ συμπληρώνει ἕνα μέρος τῆς προβληματικῆς ποὺ ἀναπτύχθηκε στὴν ἑνότητα ΙV.1: ἐκεῖ εἴδαμε γιατί ἕνα ὁμηρικὸ παράδειγμα τῆς Καθολικῆς, ποὺ διαφύλαξε ὁ Μιχαὴλ Σύγκελλος, δὲν δικαιολογούμαστε νὰ εἰκάσουμε ὅτι ἐξέπεσε ἀπὸ τὰ Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα καὶ γιατί ἀντ’ αὐτοῦ θὰ πρέπει νὰ σκεφθοῦμε ὅτι ὁ Ἰωάννης συνειδητὰ τὸ εἶχε ἀποκλείσει ἀπὸ τὴν ἐπιτομή του. Ὁ Θεόγνωστος ἀναφέρεται στὸν ἀκόλουθο κανόνα, ὁ ὁποῖος δὲν εὑρίσκει τὸν ἀντίστοιχό του στὰ Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα: Περὶ ὀρθογραφίας 162.19 (καν. 982) Εἰς -υν λῆγον ἐπίρρημα οὐδὲν ἔστιν, εἰ μὴ τὸ βίσχυν βαρύτονον μόνον ὄν.

Τὸν κανόνα ὁ Θεόγνωστος ἀσφαλῶς τὸν ἄντλησε ἀπὸ τὴν Καθολικὴ καὶ ὀρθῶς ὁ Lentz τὸν περιέλαβε στὴν ἀνασυγκροτημένη ἐκδοχὴ τοῦ ἡρωδιανικοῦ συγγράμματος (509.21). Ἐδῶ δὲν μποροῦμε νὰ ὑποθέσουμε ὅτι ἀπὸ τὴν ἑνότητα τῶν Τονικῶν παραγγελμάτων ποὺ ἀφορᾶ τὸν τονισμὸ τῶν θεματικῶν ὑπερμονοσυλλάβων ἐπιρρημάτων σὲ -ν (37.26–38.5, -αν, -ην, -ον) ἐξέπεσε τὸ τμῆμα ποὺ ἀναφερόταν στὰ ἐπιρρήματα (κατ’ ἀκρίβειαν, στὸ ἐπίρρημα) σὲ -υν. Ὁ ἀποτρεπτικὸς παράγων δὲν εἶναι ἁπλῶς τὸ γεγονὸς ὅτι τὸ βίσχυν εἶναι μιὰ διαλεκτικὴ καὶ σπάνια λέξη, διότι διαλεκτικὲς ἤ/καὶ σπάνιες λέξεις βρίσκει κανεὶς στὰ Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα καὶ σὲ ἄλλα σημεῖα: ἀπὸ τὴν ἑνότητα τῶν ἐπιρρημάτων ἀναφέρουμε ὡς παραδείγματα πέρην, δοάν, τηνεῖ, τουτεῖ, αὐτεῖ. Μᾶς ἐμποδίζει τὸ ὅτι τὸ βίσχυν εἶναι μιὰ διαλεκτικὴ καὶ σπάνια λέξη σὲ συνδυασμὸ μὲ τὸ ὅτι δὲν ὑπάρχουν ἐσωτερικὲς ἐνδείξεις στὴν πραγματεία ποὺ νὰ παραπέμπουν στὴν ἀπουσία αὐτή. Ἂν εἴχαμε τὴν ὑποψία ὅτι ἡ ἑνότητα τῶν θεματικῶν ὑπερμονοσυλλάβων ἐπιρρημάτων σὲ -ν χαρακτηριζόταν ἀπὸ πληρότητα, τότε αὐτὸ θὰ συνιστοῦσε ἔνδειξη. Ὅμως τέτοια ὑποψία δὲν μᾶς ἐπιτρέπεται νὰ ἔχουμε, δεδομένου ὅτι ἀπὸ τὴν ἑνότητα ἀπουσιάζει λ.χ. καὶ τὸ τμῆμα ποὺ σχετίζεται μὲ ἐπιρρήματα σὲ -εν (Θεόγν. 161.28, καν. 978. Lentz 508.8). Ἑπομένως ἡ ἐναλλακτικὴ ὑπόθεση, ὅτι ὁ ἴδιος ὁ Ἰωάννης παρέλειψε τὸν κανόνα ἀπὸ τὴν ἐπιτομή του, ἀποβαίνει πολὺ ἰσχυρότερη.

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ΒΙΒΛΙΟΓΡΑΦΙΑ Cramer A. (ἐκδ.), Θεογνώστου Κανόνες, στό: Anecdota Graeca e codd. ms. bibliothecarum Oxoniensium, τόμος 2, Ὀξφόρδη 1835, 1–165 Dickey E., Ancient Greek Scholarship. A guide to finding, reading, and understanding scholia, commentaries, lexica, and grammatical treatises, from their beginnings to the Byzantine period, Ὀξφόρδη 2007 Dindorf G. (ἐκδ.), Ἰωάννου Ἀλεξανδρέως Τονικὰ παραγγέλματα. Αἰλίου Ἡρωδιανοῦ Περὶ σχημάτων, Λειψία 1825, 3–42 Donnet D. (ἐκδ.), Le Traité de la Construction de la Phrase de Michel le Syncelle de Jérusalem: Histoire du Texte, Édition, Traduction et Commentaire, Βρυξέλλες/Παρίσι 1982 Dyck A. (ἐκδ.), The Fragments of Heliodorus Homericus, στό: HSPh 95, 1993, 1–64 _______, Aelius Herodian: Recent Studies and Prospects for Future Research, στό: ANRW II 34.1, Βερολίνο/Νέα Ὑόρκη 1993, 772–94 Egenolff Ρ., Die orthoepischen Stücke der byzantinischen Litteratur, Λειψία 1887 Haas W. (ἐκδ.), Die Fragmente der Grammatiker Tyrannion und Diokles, στό: Die Fragmente des Grammatikers Dionysios Thrax. Die Fragmente der Grammatiker Tyrannion und Diokles. Apions Γλῶσσαι Ὁμηρικαί, SGLG 3, Βερολίνο/Νέα Ὑόρκη 1977, 79–184 Hunger H. (ἐκδ.), Palimpsest-Fragmente aus Herodians Καθολικὴ προσῳδία, Buch 5–7, στό: Jahrbuch der österreichischen byzantinischen Gesellschaft 16, 1967 1–33 Koster W. J. W. (ἐκδ.), De accentibus excerpta ex Choerobosco, Aetherio, Philopono, Aliis, στό: Mnemosyne 59, 1931, 132–64 Lehrs K., Quaestiones epicae, Regimontii Prussorum 1837 Lentz A. (ἐκδ.), Herodiani Technici Reliquiae, Volumen I Praefationem et Herodiani Prosodiam Catholicam continens, Λειψία 1867 Roussou S. (ἐκδ.), Pseudo-Arcadius’ Epitome of Herodian’s Περὶ Καθολικῆς Προσῳδίας with a Critical Edition and Notes on Books 1–8, Διδ. διατρ., Πανεπιστήμιο Ὀξφόρδης 2011 Schneider R., Bodleiana, Λειψία 1887 Schwyzer E., Griechische Grammatik, τόμ. I, Μόναχο 1939 Stephanus H., Thesaurus Graecae Linguae, τόμ. IV, 3η ἔκδ. ἀπὸ C. B. Hase, G. Dindorf καὶ L. Dindorf, Παρίσι 1841 Xenis G., Herodian and Strattis: A Further Link?, στό: RhM 156.1, 2013, 106–110 Xenis G., Michael Syncellus: A Neglected Source for Aelius Herodian’s Περὶ καθολικῆς προσῳδίας, στό: Classical Quarterly, 65.2, 2015, 1–13, doi:10.1017/S0009838815000415 Xenis G. (ed.), Iohannes Alexandrinus. Praecepta Tonica, Berolini/Monachii/Bostoniae: Walter de Gruyter (Bibliotheca scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana) 2015

18 DIFFICULT PROBLEMS IN THE TRANSMISSION AND INTERRELATION OF THE GREEK ETYMOLOGICA Klaus Alpers There are so many practical, methodological, and editorial problems the editor of the Etymologicum Genuinum is faced with, that it would easily be possible to fill a whole conference discussing them alone.1 I intend to present only some of the most intricate of them in this paper. There is a well-known poem by Joseph Justus Scaliger about the torments of hell, which the compilers of lexica have to confront, but I think that one may actually apply the poem also to the toil the editor of the oldest and most important of the Byzantine etymologica has to undergo:2 Si quem dura manet sententia iudicis olim, Damnatum aerumnis suppliciisque caput: Hunc nec fabrili lassent ergastula massa, Nec rigidas vexent fossa metalla manus: Lexica contexat, nam caetera quid moror? omnes Poenarum facies hic labor unus habet.

The printing history of the Greek etymologica starts very impressively. In the summer of 1499, after more than six years of preliminary work, the first book from the new Venetian press of the Cretan calligrapher and printer Zacharias Calliergis appeared, which was highly praised and became rightly famous for its high typographical quality and elegance: Ἐτυμoλoγικὸν Μέγα κατὰ ἀλφάβητoν πάνυ ὠφέλιμoν. Also in the colophon the title is named once more: Τὸ μέγα ἐτυμoλoγικὸν ἐντυπωθὲν, πέρας εἴληφεν ἤδη σὺν θεῶ ἐν ἐνετίαις. The famous Cretan scholar Marcus Musurus had written the dedicatory epistle and the enormous expenses incurred thereby were borne by the affluent Cretan aristocrat Nikolaos Blastós.3 It is the book that we nowadays use under the title Etymologicum 1

2 3

An earlier version of this paper was read at the conference „European Scholarship – History, Methodology and Beyond“ 15-16 March, 2002 in Nicosia. Shorter versions were read (in Danish) to The Royal Danish Academy of Sciences and Letters in Copenhagen on 27 February, 2003, and (in German) to the Geisteswissenschaftliche Klasse of Braunschweigische Wissenschaftliche Gesellschaft at Brunswick on 7 March, 2003. I wish to express my thanks to my colleague and friend Dr William Beck (Hamburg) for improving my English. Josephi Scaligeri, Poemata omnia ex Museio Petri Scriverii, Antwerpen: Ex officina Plantiniana, 1615, 15: In Lexicorum compilatores, inscriptum Lexico Arabico a se collecto. Cf. D. J. Geanakoplos, Byzantium and the Renaissance. Greek Scholars in Venice, Hamden, Conn. 1973 (First published under the title: Greek Scholars in Venice, Cambridge, Mass. 1962), 204–207. Musurus’ dedicatory epistle is repeated in Gaisford (see n. 4), p. II. It has to be emphasised that the opinion, which one unfortunately still encounters from time to time, that

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Magnum in Thomas Gaisford’s edition,4 and abbreviate as EM. The manuscript which had been used for printing is lost, so that the edition is codicis instar. In the manuscript tradition of this work at six places one of the sources is cited as τὸ μέγα ἐτυμoλoγικόν,5 and this is several times confronted with an ἄλλo ἐτυμoλoγικόν.6 If I understand Gaisford’s words in his preface correctly, these six quotations are changed in print, non sine quadam doli suspicione, as Gaisford puts it.7 The first scholarly treatment given to the work was performed by Friedrich Sylburg in his Heidelberg edition of 1594, which was reprinted by Gottfried Heinrich Schaefer, Leipzig 1816.8 The edition of 1499 still served as the basis for his text, as no improvements from new manuscript material had taken place. This did not happen until 1864, when Emmanuel Miller by chance found a manuscript in Florence dating from the late 10th century,9 Laurent. S. Marci 304, that up to then had remained unnoticed. He published his findings in his book Mélanges de Littéra­ ture Grecque, Paris 1868, but did it in a very impractical and incomplete way, in the form of annotations to Gaisford’s text of the Magnum.10

4 5 6 7

8

9

10

Musurus was the editor of the editio princeps, is erroneous and has been refuted long ago, especially by Radulf Menge, De Marci Musuri Cretensis Vita Studiis Ingenio Narratio, in M. Schmidt’s edition of Hesychius, vol. V, Jena 1868, 15–18; cf. also Geanakoplos 124 f. Etymologicon Magnum seu verius Lexicon saepissime vocabulorum origines indagans … ad codd. mss. recensuit et notis variorum instruxit Thomas Gaisford S.T.P, Oxonii 1848. EM 142.25; 713.5; 780.35; 789.8; 802.43; 814.22. EM 142.25; 670.31; 816.23. Gaisford (see n. 4), p. 3: „Lexici hujus Etymologici, (cui Magni cognomen indidit sive Marcus Musurus sive Zacharias Calliergus, hoc fortasse consilio ut plures ad librum coëmendum alliceret, attamen non sine quadam doli suspicione, nam diversum esse hoc opus ab Etymologico Magno arguunt loca minimum octo …“ Etymologicum Magnum seu Magnum Grammaticae Penu. Opera Friderici Sylburgii Veterani. Editio Nova Correctior, Lipsiae 1816. That G. H. Schaefer was responsible for this reprint is shown in the publisher’s catalogue in col. 1089: „… Editio nova correct. (stud. G. H. Schaeferi).“ On F. Sylburg cf. B. A. Müller, in: Philologische Wochenschrift 46, 1926, 1164–1168, and R. Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship from 1300 to 1850, Oxford 1976, 141 with n. 2. Sylburg’s preface is also reprinted in Gaisford (see n. 4) col. III–XII. As date of publication of Sylburg’s original edition 1594 is normally given in library catalogues, though Sylburg dated his preface (at the end) as „Heidelbergae in Collegio Principis III Non. April. MDXCV“. That this date was erroneous is shown by Sylburg’s own addition to Calliergis’ colophon (in Schaefer’s print in col. 749/50): νῦν δὲ … ἀκριβέστερoν ἀνακεκαίνισται ἐν Εἱδελβέργῃ ἀναλώμασι μὲν τoῦ λoγιωτάτoυ ἀνδρὸς Κoμμελίνoυ, πόνῳ δὲ καὶ ἐπιμελείᾳ Φριδερίχoυ Συλπoυργίoυ … ἔτει τῆς σωτηρίoυ oἰκoνoμίας ,αφϙδ‘ (= 1594). Cf. R. Reitzenstein (see n. 16 below) 3–7. On the place and the date of origin of the Laurent. S. Marci 304: it was written and the part of it which contains the Etymologicum Genuinum was finished in Constantinople (and not in Southern Italy, as had been maintained) on 13 May of the year 994, see K. Alpers, Marginalien zur Überlieferung der griechischen Etymologika, in: D. Harlfinger and G. Prato (edd.), Paleografia e Codicologia Greca. Atti del II Colloquio internationale (Berlino–Wolfenbüttel, 17–21 ottobre 1983), Alessandria 1991, volume I, 523–541 (here 527–530). The eastern origin of the manuscript has been confirmed by the palaeographers D. Harlfinger and G. Prato. Cf. also E. Follieri, BZ 84/85, 1991–92, 175–176: „infatti non presenta affatto, dal punto di vista paleografico, caratteri provinciali“, and N. Wilson, On the Transmission of the Greek Lexica, in: GRBS 23, 1982, 369–375 (here 371). E. Miller, Mélanges de Littérature Grecque, Paris 1868: „Etymologicum Magnum de Florence“

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That this so-called Etymologicum Florentinum, a codex we now call B, was no manuscript of the Magnum, but of the original Μέγα Ἐτυμoλoγικόν, could only be fully realized, when Richard Reitzenstein among his many brilliant manuscript discoveries made his most spectacular one, the codex Vatic. gr. 1818, dating from the 10th century, which he discovered in the Vatican library in 1887.11 He named this manuscript A. It now became apparent that the greatest part of the most valuable components of the Magnum were drawn from this source, the genuine Μέγα Ἐτυμoλoγικόν and that foremost this source contained many invaluable citations from lost works of antiquity that were not taken over by the Magnum. As its name was already occupied by its descendant, Reitzenstein initially called the older book Etymologicum Magnum formae genuinae, later abbreviated to Etymologicum Ge­ nuinum. The other etymologicum quoted by the Magnum as ἄλλo ἐτυμoλoγικόν is preserved too. Reitzenstein showed that this book is identical with a lexicon that has come down to us in a great number of widely differing manuscripts. It had already been printed in Leipzig in 1818 under the title Etymologicum Gudianum by Friedrich Wilhelm Sturz12 from a copy made by Lüder Kulenkamp of the most inferior manuscript, a codex once in the possession of Marquard Gude and now at Wolfenbüttel.13 Also for this Gudianum it was Reitzenstein, who found the most important manuscript, Barberin. gr. 70 (d), „das Original, den Entwurf dieses gesamten Werkes“,14. This codex is usually dated to the 11th century, but there are substantial reasons, as I have pointed out in 1984, for dating it earlier, to the second half of the 10th century.15 Reitzenstein published the rich results of his splendid findings and 11 12

13

14

15

(pp. 11–318). Cf. Reitzenstein (see n. 16 below) 2–3; P. Canart, Bibliothecae Apostolicae Vaticanae codices manu scripti recensiti. Codices Vaticani Graeci, Codices 1745–1962. Tomus I, Vatican 1970, 205–208; Tomus II, Vatican 1973, XXXIX. Etymologicum Graecae linguae Gudianum et alia grammaticorum scripta e codicibus manuscriptis nunc primum edita, accedunt notae ad Etymologicum Magnum ineditae E. H. Barkeri, Imm. Bekkeri, Lvd. Kvlencampii, Amad. Peyroni aliorumque, quas digessit et una cum suis edidit Frider. Gvl. Stvrzivs. Cum indice locvpletissimo. Lipsiae 1818. Codex Guelferbytanus 29 and 30, dated by a subscription to 18 February, 1293, written in Southern Italy. On this ms. cf. D. Harlfinger, in: Griechische Handschriften und Aldinen. Eine Ausstellung anläßlich der XV. Tagung der Mommsen-Gesellschaft in der Herzog August Bibliothek Wolfenbüttel, Wolfenbüttel 1978 (Ausstellungskataloge der Herzog August Bibliothek Nr. 24), No. 9 (pp. 35–37 with fig. on p. 36). Reitzenstein (see n. 16 below) 90. The manuscript is described by him on pp. 91–103 (two figures at the end of his book). Cf. V. Capocci, Codices Barberiniani Graeci. Tomus I: Codices 1–163, Vatican 1958, 75–78 and especially the detailed and careful palaeographical and codicological examination by St. Maleci, Il codice Barberinianus Graecus 70 dell’Etymologicum Gudianum, Supplemento n. 15 al „Bollettino dei Classici“. Accademia nazionale dei Lincei, [Rome] 1995. Cf. also A. Cellerini, Introduzione all’Etymologicum Gudianum. Supplemento n. 6 al „Bollettino dei Classici“. Accademia nazionale dei Lincei, [Rome] 1988. It is now generally assumed that d was written somewhere in Southern Italy. That means that the compilation of the Etymologicum Gudianum took place in that region. On the possible place of origin cf. the references at Maleci p. 36 note 13. On the numerous descendants of d see Reitzenstein pp. 70–90 and Cellerini pp. 25–29. See K. Alpers, Die Etymologiensammlung im Hodegos des Anastasios Sinaites, das Etymolo-

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penetrating analysis in a ground-breaking and still indispensable book in 1897.16 Here he published also specimens of editions of the Genuinum, the Gudianum, the Magnum, and of another etymologicum, the manuscripts of which he had also found: the Etymologicum Symeonis.17 The most urgent task, it was clear, was the publishing of an edition of the Ge­ nuinum by Reitzenstein. He copied large portions of A and B himself and had the rest of the text copied by Max Consbruch, a scholar known for his Teubner edition of Hephaistion.18 Consbruch did not “collate” the two manuscripts, but had to “depict them with all their abbreviations”.19 Reitzenstein made extensive sketches of parts of the text of the Genuinum, but eventually gave up in resignation, because – as he wrote in 192920 – he had not been able to find „eine geeignete Form, das Genuinum in seiner Urgestalt, d.h. die beiden Exzerpte ergänzt aus dem Magnum und den anderen Ableitungen darzustellen“. Reitzenstein’s Geschichte contains some serious errors, many of which he himself corrected in an excellent article21 in 1907, but which nevertheless are continually repeated up to the present day, because people tend to read only the famous Geschichte. It was possible to correct these errors and to clear up some other pro-

16 17

18 19 20 21

gicum Gudianum (Barb. Gr. 70) und der Codex Vind. Theol. Gr. 40“, in: JÖB 34, 1984, 55–68 (especially 62–63); id., Marginalien zur Überlieferung der griechischen Etymologika, in: D. Harlfinger and G. Prato (edd.), Paleografia e Codicologia Greca. Atti del II Colloquio internationale (Berlino-Wolfenbüttel, 17–21 ottobre 1983), Alessandria 1991, volume I, 523–541 (here 536–539). R. Reitzenstein, Geschichte der griechischen Etymologika. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Philologie in Alexandria und Byzanz, Leipzig 1897. The Etymologicum Symeonis is preserved in four manuscripts, two of which transmit the original text (Vindob. phil. gr. 131 = F and Parmensis 2139 = E), whereas two other manuscripts have an extended version under the title Μεγάλη γραμματική (Laurent. S. Marci 303 = C and Vossianus gr. 20 = V, called D by Reitzenstein). See Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 254–286. A fifth manuscript has recently been discovered in Prague: Praha, Narodni Knihovna Česke Republiky, ms. XXV C 3, cf. Jean-Marie Olivier Marie-Aude Monégier du Sorbier, Manuscrits grecs récemment découverts en République Tchèque. Supplement au Catalogue des manuscrits grecs de Tchécoslovaquie [Documents, études et répertoires publiés par l’Institut de Recherche et d’Histoire des Textes 76], Paris 2006, 205–221 (S. 205 Nr. 1 „(ff. 1–121v) , cum nonnullis variis lectionibus, scholiis et additamentis marginalibus“). Only parts of the text of Et. Sym. have been edited so far: Das Etymologicum Symeonis (α-ἀίω), hrsg. von H. Sell (Beitr. z. Klass. Phil. 25), Meisenheim am Glan 1968 (see K. Alpers, in: Gnomon 42, 1970, 120–125; E. Degani, in: Maia N.S. 25, 1973, 88–91); Etymologicum Genuinum et Etymologicum Symeonis (β), hrsg. von G. Berger (Beitr. z. Klass. Phil. 45), Meisenheim am Glan 1972 (see K. Nickau, in: BZ 68, 1975, 393–397; F. Bossi, in: Maia 27, 1975, 155–157); D. Baldi, Etymologicum Symeonis Γ–Ε (Corpus Christianorum series Graeca 79), Turnhout 2013 (see I. Cunningham, in: BMCR 2014.01.14). Cf. also Baldi’s valuable article Etymologicum Symeonis: tradizione manoscritta ed edizione critica. Considerazioni preliminari, in: Vie per Bisanzio, a cura di A. Rigo, A. Babuin e M. Trizio, Bari 2013, 855–874. Hephaestionis Enchiridion cum commentariis veteribus, ed. M. Consbruch, Leipzig 1906. Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 2: „mit allen ihren Abkürzungen abzumalen.“ R. Reitzenstein, Review of: Suidae Lexicon ed. A. Adler, Pars I, in: Gnomon 5, 1929, 238. R. Reitzenstein, „Etymologika“, in: Pauly-Wissowa, RE VI 1 (1907) 807–817.

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blems by consequently applying a skill, which Reitzenstein in his works had developed to true mastery, i.e. the technique of source analysis. In A and in B we find at the end of the letter κάππα supplements out of alphabetical order under the heading Φωτίoυ πατριάρχoυ and in one of the witnesses of the indirect transmission even oὕτως ἐγὼ Φώτιoς ὁ πατριάρχης.22 The Gudi­ anum has the commendable peculiarity of placing in front of many entries certain letters or signs that indicate the source from which the glosses were taken. Among these we very often find a ligature of the three letters φωτ. Reitzenstein combining this with the Photios-supplements in the Genuinum interpreted the φωτ of the Gudianum as Φωτίoυ.23 From these observations he inferred that Photios was the initiator of the Genuinum and that the ligature φωτ in the Gudianum referred to the Genuinum.24 Now most of the entries in the Gudianum marked with φωτ are not to be found in the manuscripts AB. Therefore, Reitzenstein concluded that the compilers of the Gudianum must have disposed of a much more complete copy of the Genuinum than AB. These two assumptions of Reitzenstein were fatal errors. The Italian scholar Eduardo De Stefani, who was preparing an edition of the Gudianum, proved that with the ligature φωτ the Gudianum refers to epimerismi on the iambic canon of St. John Damascene εἰς τὰ φῶτα, i.e. the feast of Epiphany.25 Unfortunately Reitzenstein’s fatal error, though he had retracted his theory in 1907,26 lives on to the present day and causes damage, as we can judge from the CD-ROM (E) of the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae (TLG) in Irvine that again resolves the ligature φωτ in the Gudianum into Φωτίoυ. However, still worse is that the TLG-CD resolves another ligature, the letters ΧρΓ (also only Χρ), meant by the Gudianum to denote St. 22 23 24 25

26

These words are preserved in the codex Gudianus 30 in an appendix (copied from a lost manuscript of the Etymologicum Genuinum) behind the Etymologicum Gudianum and printed in Sturz’ edition (see n. 12) col. 586, 37 f. See Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 56. Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 138. Against this assumption objection was raised by L. Cohn in his review of Reitzenstein’s book, in: DLZ 18, 1897, 1414–1418. E. L. De Stefani, Per le fonti dell’Etimologico Gudiano, in: BZ 16, 190–7, 52–68 (here 52–54). Cf. also L. Cohn, in: BZ 20, 1911, 205–206. The texts of the iambic canons of St. John Damascene are printed in: W. Christ and M. Paranikas, Anthologia Graeca carminum christianorum, Leipzig 1871, 205–236, and in: Iohannis Damasceni Canones iambici cum commentario et indice verborum ex schedis Augusti Nauck editi (iussu Imperialis Academiae edidit P. Nikitin), in: Bulletin de l’Académie Impériale des Sciences de St.-Pétersbourg N.S. 4 (36), 1893, 199– 223 (= Mélanges Gréco-Romains 6, 1893, 105–129). The Epimerismi to St. John’s Canons are preserved in continuous series at various places within the conglomeration of the Ἐπιμερισμoὶ κατὰ στoιχεῖov γραφικά (sic!) and printed by J. A. Cramer from codex Barocc. 50 (10th century), in: Anecdota Graeca e codd. manuscriptis bibliothecarum Oxoniensium, vol. I, Oxford 1835, 331–426. The Canon Εἰς τὰ Φῶτα (viz. Εἰς τὰ Θεoφάνεια) is nr. 2 (p. 209–213 Christ-Paranikas, p. 205–210 Nauck). A little lexicon to St. John’s Canons is edited by De Stefani (as above pp. 58–66, addenda by the same author, in: BZ 21, 1912, 431–435). Cf. also Cellerini (see n. 14) 55–60. Reitzenstein (see n. 21) 813: „Daß ich früher fälschlich aus einer Sigle (φωτ) im Gudianum gefolgert habe, der Veranstalter des ganzen Werkes sei Photios selbst gewesen, wird Luigi De Stefani demnächst erweisen.“

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John’s canon εἰς τὴv Χριστoῦ γέννησιν, i.e. Christmas, into Γεωργίoυ τoῦ Χoιρoβoσκoῦ or Χoιρoβoσκoῦ.27 This is not only absurd, but misleading and dangerous. With De Stefani’s results in mind the question of which relationship the Gudianum has to the Genuinum had to be investigated once anew.28 I shall return to this matter at a later point. Also the role that the patriarch Photius played – or did not play – in compiling the Genuinum, had to be evaluated again, and Reitzenstein described the situation correctly in his RE-article of 1907:29 Photios has nothing to do with the genesis of the Genuinum, but he was already able to use a copy of that lexicon and to introduce some supplements under his name on a page that was partly blank at the end of the letter κάππα, in the same way as Arethas has done with his annotations in the codex Paris. gr. 451 with Ἀρέθα ἀρχιεπισκόπoυ. These supplements made by Photius occur not only in AB, but also in the other etymologica, which had used lost manuscripts of the Genuinum, therefore it is clear that Photius read and annotated the original manuscript of the Genuinum. This observation is an important factor for dating the Genuinum: Photius read the archetype of the Genuinum at the earliest in 858 and at the latest in 872, as I argued at the Second Colloquium on Greek Palaeography in 1983.30 Reitzenstein had arrived at another date in his Geschichte.31 He supposed that a subscription in B at the end of the Genuinum:32 “Finished with God in May, on the 13th, a Sunday, at the time, when the Great Church was opened” was meant to denote the finishing of the Genuinum 27

28 29

30 31 32

Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 101 had confused the siglum ΧρΓ with that for Choeroboscus (normally [Γ ̑o], but sometimes [Γ ̑oχ]). Reitzenstein (ibid.) again erroneously inferred that the si̅ ] meant Νικήτoυ, when in fact the Gudianum through [Ν ̅ ] (i.e. the symbol for number glum [Ν 50) abbreviates its source, i.e. the epimerismi to St. John’s Canon nr. 3 (Εἰς τὴν Πεντηκοστήν). ̅ ] in the Reitzenstein’s mistake is perpetuated in the TLG from Irvine, where all instances of [Ν Gudianum are wrongly resolved to Νικήτoυ! Cf. Cohn (see n. 25) 206: „… reduziert sich die Benutzung des Genuinum im Gudianum beträchtlich. Das Verhältnis der beiden Etymologika zueinander bedarf überhaupt einer erneuten Untersuchung.“ Cf. also Reitzenstein (see n. 21) 815, 4–7. Reitzenstein (see n. 21) 813, 354.33–43: „… der auch für die Zeitbestimmung wichtige Umstand, daß Photios in den Nachträgen mehrfach genannt wird, und zwar zu Glossen, die nicht aus seinem Lexikon oder irgend einem bestimmten Werke, sondern nur unmittelbar aus seiner Lektüre stammen können. Der Patriarch benutzte also ein Exemplar des in seinem Hauptbestand fertigen Werkes.“ Nevertheless the wrong opinion of the etymologicum „composed by Photius“ was repeated again and again even in recent articles (cf. the instances named in Alpers [see n. 9] 527). Cf. also K. Alpers, Eine byzantinische Enzyklopädie des 9. Jahrhunderts. Zu Hintergrund, Entstehung und Geschichte des griechischen Etymologikons in Konstantinopel und im italogriechischen Bereich, in: G. Cavallo and others (edd.), Scritture, Libri e Testi nelle Aree Provinciali di Bisanzio. Vol. I, Spoleto 1991, 235–269 (here 248). One of the earliest users of the Genuinum we know was Johannes Sardianos in his commentary on the Progymnasmata of Aphthonios, see K. Alpers, Untersuchungen zu Johannes Sardianos und seinem Kommentar zu den Progymnasmata des Aphthonios, Braunschweig 2009 (Abhandlungen der Braunschweigischen Wiss. Gesellschaft Band LXII), 2. durchgesehene und verbesserte Auflage, Braunschweig 2013 (as digital resource: http://www.digibib.tubs.de/?docid=00047848), 142 ff. The Proceedings were not published until 1991: see Alpers (see n. 9) 525–527 and 540. Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 69. See Alpers (see n. 9) 527.

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and that the date was to be interpreted as May 13th, 882, which was a Sunday.33 Papadopulos-Kerameus argued already in 1898 against this date in his review of Reitzenstein’s book and pointed out that May 13, 994 was implied and that the date had to be referred to the manuscript B itself.34 I have discussed this problem again in the aforementioned proceedings and shown that 994 is the date of B, which was written in Constantinople and not, as some have thought, in Southern Italy. Though Reitzenstein in his article of 1907 had dropped his old dating,35 this is again and again repeated even in modern discussions.36 The terminus post quem for the Ge­ nuinum is the date of the latest source quoted in it, i.e. the Orthography of Theognostus, which was dedicated to Emperor Leo V., who reigned from 813 to 820.37 Reitzenstein died in 1931 shortly before his 70th birthday,38 but some time before his death he transferred all his materials concerning the etymologica, copies, collations, and preparations to the Danish Academy in Copenhagen. Here Ada Adler after having finished her monumental and famous edition of Suidas39 wanted to edit the Genuinum on the basis of Reitzenstein’s collation and preliminary work. From 1936 until her death in 1946 at the age of 68 she worked very energetically on this project, supported by some very able young assistants. Under the German occupation of Denmark, due to her Jewish origin – she was a first cousin of the Nobel Prize winner Niels Bohr – she escaped to Sweden in 1943 and picked up her work on the Genuinum again in the summer 1945. About twenty years later the Danish Academy transferred Reitzenstein’s and Adler’s papers to me and asked me to revise Adler’s preliminary texts and complete the edition. At that time I was officially employed apart from teaching and administration, to work on the Index Hippocraticus and, later on, the Lexikon des frühgriechischen Epos, so the time I was able to spend on the Genuinum was rather limited. Adler had worked only on the basis of Reitzenstein’s old collations and had no films or photographs of AB at her disposal. This was certainly no longer scholarly standard in the second half of the twentieth century, for which reason complete photographs of AB, the codex d, the original of 33 34 35 36

37 38 39

Reitzenstein (see n. 9) 69: „Der Schluß ist nicht zwingend, aber immerhin wahrscheinlich, daß dieselbe im Frühling 882 vollendet war, und damit, daß unser Etymologikon am 13. Mai 882 seinen ersten vorläufigen Abschluß fand.“ See K. Krumbacher, in: BZ 8, 1899, 212–213. Reitzenstein (see n. 21) 813, 59 f.: „Es (viz. the Genuinum) wird in der ersten Hälfte des 9. Jhdts. entstanden sein.“ E.g. J. Schneider, Les Traités orthographiques grecs antiques et byzantins [Corpus Christianorum: Lingua Patrum III], Turnhout 1999, 227: „… 882, date ultime pour la rédaction de l’Etymologicum Genuinum.“ See on this book the review article by K. Alpers, Die griechischen Orthographien aus Spätantike und byzantinischer Zeit, in: BZ 97, 2004, 1–50. On the date of Theognostos see most recently Alpers (see n. 36) 29 with n. 112. On Reitzenstein cf. M. Pohlenz, Richard Reitzenstein, in: Nachrichten v. d. Gesellsch. d. Wissenschaften zu Göttingen. Geschäftl. Mitteilungen aus d. Berichtsjahr 1930/31, Berlin 1931, 66–76. Suidae Lexicon. Ed. A. Adler. Pars I: Α–Γ, Leipzig 1928; Pars II: Δ–Θ, ibid. 1931; Pars III: Κ–Ο.Ω, ibid. 1933; Pars IV: Π–Ψ, ibid. 1935; Pars V: Praefationem Indices Dissertationem continens, ibid. 1938. She is also the author of the fundamental article „Suidas (Lexikograph)“, in: RE IV A, 1931, 675–718.

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Gudianum, the four manuscripts of the Etymologicum Symeonis,40 and additionally other important manuscripts of Gudianum and Magnum, had to be procured. Because of the very high costs involved this could only be achieved little by little. From my work with the Genuinum some longer and shorter publications originated, such as the specimen of my edition, the letter λάμβδα in 1969,41 the long article about the Pseudo-Zonaras in RE in 1972,42 and the collection and edition with commentary of the fragments of the atticistic lexicon of Orus, which I had identified mainly in Ps.-Zonaras and in the Genuinum.43 This may suffice as necessary prehistory and basis for the following remarks about some important and – I think – methodologically instructive problems, which block the way of an editor of the Genuinum. The manuscript tradition of the Genuinum is deplorably bad, especially at the beginning: the most important codex A starts only from the gloss ἀλευρόττησις, in B the beginning is seriously damaged. Here not even ultraviolet light can be of much help. At some places Miller has used chemicals, which have left stains, where now absolutely nothing is discernible. A breaks off at the gloss φωριαμός abruptly, both A and B have suffered loss of leaves, the texts in A and B often differ considerably, especially when one of them has been abridged. This is very often the case in B, where many fragments from poets and grammarians are missing. These learned details are always especially endangered in the tradition of all the Greek lexica, because scribes regard them as superfluous. Inertia is a law of nature valid for Byzantine scribes too. To fill in these gaps of AB we have to resort to the later etymological compilations, which have used the Genuinum as one of their main sources. They had manuscripts of it at their disposal, which were often better and more complete than AB: first of all the Magnum and the two versions of the Etymo­ logicum Symeonis. These were already taken into account by Reitzenstein and after him by Adler; we shall see later that also another lexicon has to be considered. I have not mentioned the Gudianum here, which had played such an important role for Reitzenstein. After De Stefani’s proof that φωτ did not mean the Genui­ num, the relationship of the Gudianum to the Genuinum had not been investigated – at least as far as I am aware. Source investigation and source analysis are the tools to be used in this field, which were developed to true mastery by Reitzenstein, Georg Wentzel,44 and Adler (especially in her Suidas-edition). It is important not to make judgement from single passages and isolated observations, but to take the complete texts or at least large portions thereof into account. It is almost as Plato’s Socrates in the Phaedrus (270 c 2) says: you can know nothing about the soul with40 41 42 43 44

Cf. n. 17 above for a recently found fifth ms. K. Alpers, Bericht über Stand und Methode der Ausgabe des Etymologicum Genuinum (Mit einer Ausgabe des Buchstaben Λ), København 1969 (Det Kongelige Danske Videnskabernes Selskab. Historisk-filologiske Meddelelser 44, 3). K. Alpers, ‚Zonarae‘ Lexicon, in: RE X A, 1972, 732–763. K. Alpers, Das attizistische Lexikon des Oros. Untersuchung und kritische Augabe der Fragmente, Berlin and New York 1981 (SGLG 4). See e.g. G. Wentzel, Beiträge zur Geschichte der griechischen Lexikographen, in: Sitzungsberichte d. kgl. preuss. Akademie d. Wiss. zu Berlin XXVI, 1895, 477–487 (reprinted in: K. Latte and H. Erbse, Lexica Graeca Minora, Hildesheim 1965, 1–11).

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out knowledge of the nature of the whole, ἄνευ τῆς τoῦ ὅλoυ φύσεως. I have, therefore, compared all the entries of the letters β and γ of the Genuinum with those of the Gudianum (d) in De Stefani’s edition.45 There were 523 glosses in the Ge­ nuinum, of which 351 either had no counterpart in the Gudianum or were totally different. Correspondences, some of which partial, were found in 172 cases, 120 of which were certainly due to common sources, first of all the etymologicum of Orion of the 5th century,46 which was one of the main sources both of the Genuinum and of the Gudianum. There were consequently only 52 glosses, about 10%, which had correspondences, most of which were not strong or even problematical; 22 glosses aroused the suspicion that they might come from the Genuinum, 15 of which stand in the margins of d (d2),47 only six in the main text,48 one – somewhat uncertain – partly in the main text, partly in the margin.49 The result is clear: the Genuinum was not one of the main sources of Gudianum’s main text, but it is possible that the Genuinum was used sporadically at a later stage of the work, i.e. by d2 in the marginal additions. I later discovered, when I found a note of Adler’s that she had also arrived at this conclusion. Nevertheless, Adler’s opinion and the result of my investigation had to be modified somewhat. There are, indeed, a few entries also in the main text of the Gudi­ 45 46

47

48 49

Etymologicum Gudianum quod vocatur. Recensuit et apparatum criticum indicesque adiecit Ed. Aloysius De Stefani. Fasciculus I Litteras Α–Β continens, Leipzig 1909; Fasciculus II Litteras Β (Βωμoλόχoι)–Ζ (Ζειαί) continens, Leipzig 1920. The transmission of the Etymologicum of Orion is extremely bad, and one still has to resort to the old, unsatisfactory edition by F. G. Sturz, Orionis Thebani Etymologicum, Leipzig 1820. At the end of his edition (coll. 173–184) Sturz has printed excerpts made by G. H. C. Koes from codex Paris. gr. 2610, which contains a different version of Orion. It is important to observe that the excerpts printed by Sturz in coll. 185–192 from codex Paris. gr. 2630 are not Orion, but Gudianum (named a by Reitzenstein [see n. 16] 70). A summary of the various versions of Orion’s Etymologicum is to be found in the (still fundamental) article by C. Wendel, Orion no. 3, in: RE XVIII 1, 1939, 1083–1987 (here: 1085 f.). Still another version of Orion’s Etymologicum was published by A. M. Micciarelli Collesi, Nuovi „Excerpta“ dall’ „Etimologico“ di Orione, in: Byzantion 40, 1970, 517–542. The stemma given on p. 518 is partly wrong, as codex B (Bodl. Auct. T 2.11) is a copy from V (Vatic. gr. 1456). The most convincing instances for marginal glosses (d2): Gud. 258, 27; 264, 12; 265, 23; 286, 17; 286, 19; 287, 24; 289, 24; 290, 15; 295, 21; 304, 17; 306, 16; 318, 21; 320, 21. Not from Gen., although there are close correspondances, but from a common source must stem: 290, 18 with a citation (Eupolis fr. 375 K.-A.), which is not in Gen. s.v. βρυγμός; neither the manuscript tradition of Gen. (AB and all Gen.’s descendants: EM, Et. Sym., Ps.-Zon.) nor Gen.’s direct source lexicon rhetoricum (cf. Phryn., Praep. Soph. 54, 11 de Borr.; Synagoge β 108 Cunningham and its descendants Phot. β 291; Suid. β 568) have it. A similar case is 298, 17; the citation of Philoxenus is not in Gen. s.v. γαστήρ. Here Gen. and Gud. have been using a common source, viz. a lost gloss of Orion’s Etymologicum, which also was used by Meletius, De natura hominis, in: J. A. Cramer, Anecdota Graeca e codd. manuscriptis bibliothecarum Oxoniensium, vol. III, Oxford 1836, 103, 20 ff., cf. Chr. Theodoridis, Die Fragmente des Grammatikers Philoxenos, Berlin and New York 1976 (SGLG 2), 129 on frg. 77. The following instances are in the main text (d1): 258, 16; 260, 7; 265, 14; 274, 9; 306, 9; problematic is 289, 14 (which might independently stem from Orion). Gud. 320, 9, where the end of the gloss (ὡς ἀπὸ Ἕλληνoς Ἕλληνες) is added by d2 (see De Stephani’s apparatus criticus on line 12).

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anum, which were certainly taken from the Genuinum, as is proved by special source references that are restricted to the Genuinum. Especially evident are these instances: Genuinum: Eἰκός. πρέπoν ἢ ἀκόλoυθoν, εὔλoγoν. λαμβάνεται δὲ καὶ ἀντὶ τoῦ τάχα. εἰς τὸ ῥητoρικόν.50 | ἔστι δὲ μετoχὴ oὐδετ( ). ἀπὸ oὖν τoῦ εἴκω εἰκώς καὶ τὸ oὐδέτερoν εἰκός. καὶ ἐχώρησεν εἰς ἐπιρρηματικὴν σύνταξιν.51 (εἰς – οὐδέτερον pr. B, om. A | με(τοχὴ) οὐδετ() Β, μετοχὴ οὐδετέρου EM, μετοχὴ οὐδετέρα Et. Gud.) Gudianum 492, 1B3 De Stef.: Ἐoικός. πρέπoν, εὔλoγoν ἢ ἀκόλoυθoν. λαμβάνεται δὲ ἀντὶ τoῦ τάχα. Εἰς τὸ Ῥητoρικόν. ἔστι δὲ μετoχὴ oὐδετέρα ἀπὸ τoῦ εἴκω καὶ χωρεῖ καὶ εἰς ἐπιρρηματικὴν σύνταξιν. Genuinum: Ζάκoρoς. νεωκόρoς, ἤγoυν ἡ διακoνoῦσα περὶ τὸ ἱερόν. Μένανδρoς Δὶς ἐξαπατῶντι (frg. 112 Koerte-Thierfelder = Δὶς Ἐξαπατῶν fr. 5 Sandbach)· oὐ Μεγάβυζoς ἦν ὅστις γένoιτo ζάκoρoς. καὶ πάλιν παρ᾽ αὐτῷ (frg. 686 K.–Th. = Leucad. frg. 5 K.–A.)· ζάκoρoς ἡ κoσμoῦσα τὸν ναόν, τέκνoν. καὶ ὁ ὑπηρέτης. Λευκαδίᾳ (frg. 257 K.–Th. = Leucad. fr. 4 K.–A)· ἐπίθες τὸ πῦρ ἡ ζάκoρoς oὑτωσὶ καλῶς. ἢ ὁ ἱερεὺς ὁ τὸν ναὸν σαρῶν. κoρεῖν γὰρ τὸ σαίρειν παρὰ Ἀττικoῖς. τὸ γὰρ ZA oὐκ ἔστιν ἐνταῦθα ἐπιτατικόν, ἀλλ᾽ ἀντὶ τῆς ΔIA πρoθέσεως, ἵν᾽ ᾖ διάκoρoς. oἱ Αἰoλεῖς γὰρ καὶ oἱ Ἀττικoὶ τὴν ΔIA ZA φασιν. oὕτως εἰς τὸ ἐτυμoλoγικὸν καὶ ῥητoρικόν.52 Gudianum 579, 1–5 De Stef.: Ζάκoρoς· νεωκόρoς, ἤγoυν ἡ διακoνoῦσα περὶ τὸ ἱερόν, ἢ ὁ ἱερεύς ὁ τὸν ναὸν σαρῶν. κoρεῖν γὰρ τὸ σαίρειν Ἀττικῶς. τὸ γὰρ ζα oὐκ ἔστι ἐνταῦθα ἐπιτατικόν, ἀλλ’ ἀντὶ τῆς

50

51 52

Σ ε 105 (Synagoge. Συναγωγὴ λέξεων χρησίμων. Text of the Original Version and of MS. B. ed. I. C. Cunningham, Berlin and New York 2003 [SGLG 10], p. 190 (= Ba. 208, 30): εἰκός. πρέπoν. ἢ ἀκόλoυθoν, εὔλoγoν. λαμβάνεται δὲ καὶ ἐπὶ τoῦ τάχα (from which Phot. ε 202 and Suid. ει 81). The source of the second part of this gloss is unknown. The not underlined words correspond to glosses in the lexica of Phot. ζ 7 and Suid. ζ 9. They are taken from the λεξικὸν ῥητoρικόν, viz. the „expanded“ Synagoge, which also was used independently by Photios and Suidas (the „Suda“). Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 194 once assumed that the rest of the gloss, which the author of the Gen. tells us was taken from an ἐτυμoλoγικόν, stems from a conglomeration called Ἐκλoγαί, part of which were excerpts from the grammarian Seleucus. Reitzenstein had made his assumption on the basis of the gloss Gen. s.v. ἐνηλύσια, part of which, i.e. the one referring to εἰς τoὺς ἐτυμoλόγoυς, corresponds to a Seleucus gloss in Gud. 471, 1. But Reitzenstein retracted this assumption in 1907 (see n. 21, 812, 15–21): „Die eine übereinstimmende Glosse Ἐνηλύσια genügt zum Beweise nicht.“ If, thus, the author of the underlined part of our gloss probably was not Seleucus, the attribution of the second citation from Menander, which is lacking in Photius and Suidas, to the „ἐτυμoλoγικόν“ becomes more doubtful and one has to reckon with the possibility that all three Menander citations came from one and the same source, viz. the λεξικὸν ῥητoρικόν, which here represents a fuller version than that used by Photius and Suidas. From Gen. stem (shortened) the lexicon αἱμωδεῖν (see n. 84) ζ 3 and the EM 407, 23.

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διά πρoθέσεως, ἵν’ ᾖ διάκoρoς. oἱ Αἰoλεῖς γὰρ καὶ oἱ Ἀττικoὶ τὴν διά ζά φασιν. oὕτως καὶ εἰς τὸ Ἐτυμoλoγικὸν καὶ Ῥητoρικόν.53

The reference ῥητoρικόν indicates one of the main sources of the Genuinum, a lexicon cognate with the Συναγωγὴ λέξεων χρησίμων, with the lexicon of Photius and with Suidas.54 Nowhere outside the Genuinum is the title (λεξικὸν) ῥητoρικόν applied to the Συναγωγή, since all the instances where we find it used in the later etymologica, as in Magnum and Etymologicum Symeonis, stem from the Genuinum. Thus, not only the specific title, but particularly the unique combination of the two sources in the two glosses of the Genuinum, which recur in the Gudi­ anum, make it irrefutably clear that here glosses from the Genuinum were introduced in the main text of the Gudianum. Nevertheless, it is true that we only very sporadically find entries in the Gudi­ anum that undoubtedly were excerpted from a manuscript of the Genuinum. How they reached the Gudianum remains somewhat unclear. One cannot doubt that the compilers of the Gudianum, if they really could have had a complete copy of the Genuinum at their disposal, would have exploited it on a much larger scale. So the possibility has to be considered that there existed excerpts from the Genuinum, which came into the hands of the compilers of the Gudianum. The Gudianum originates, as Reitzenstein in 1907 aptly puts it,55 „aus einem anderen Bildungszentrum und einer anderen Bibliothek.“ For the constitutio textus of the Genuinum the Gudianum does not play a significant role, but it is of the greatest value for parallels and above all for the analysis of the Magnum. The Magnum is of the greatest importance for the reconstruction of a more complete or a more correct text of Genuinum than that which we read in AB. Its main sources were on the one hand a very good manuscript of the Genuinum and on the other hand, but to a lesser degree, a copy of the Gudianum. With the help of source analysis, which for the Magnum has already been done exemplarily by Reitzenstein,56 one can and must isolate those materials that the Magnum in all probability owes to the Genuinum, using the method of subtraction of all components that as far as we know were taken by the Magnum either from the Gudianum or from others of its own special sources. It goes without saying that this a difficult, but in most places – although not always – possible procedure. The Genuinum-text of the Magnum is of highest value in those places, where both A and B are missing, and there, where A is lost and B, as often, has abridged the text. Not seldom and above all towards the end of the Genuinum, the Magnum has preserved glosses which are more complete and more correct than in A and B.

53 54 55 56

It is most characteristic that the compiler of the Gudianum has dropped just those parts that are most valuable for the modern scholar, i.e. the precious citations from Menander. See most recently on the Synagoge, its nature, transmission and the difficult interrelations between all its witnesses and descendants Cunningham (n. 50) 11–58, where for the first time all the existing manuscript material has been taken into account. Reitzenstein (see n. 21) 814, 30. Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 222–253.

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I want to demonstrate this with a striking example, already adduced by Reitzenstein,57 which refers to the gloss φασκώλιoν: Genuinum (AB): φασκώλειoν. ἱμάτιoν, φoρεῖoν. φάσκωλoν δέ ἐστι μαρσίππιoν. πήρα. EM 789, 5: φασκώλιoν. ἱμάτιoν, φoρεῖoν. φάσκωλoν δὲ μαρσίππιoν. Φάσκωλoν πήρα τις ἐκαλεῖτo, ὡς Ἰσαῖoς καὶ Λυσίας εἰρήκασιν. οὕτως ἔχει εἰς τὸ Μέγα.

Printed is the abridged text in AB and the text of the Magnum, where the words missing in AB are underlined and the source reference is printed in bold. That this reference is undeniably correct can be shown by the source of the Genuinum, the ῥητoρικόν: λεξικὸν ῥητoρικόν = „expanded“ Σ (Phot. 641, 25 Porson; Suid. φ 127): φασκώλιoν. ἱμάτιoν, φoρεῖoν. φάσκωλoν δέ ἐστι μαρσίππιoν. └φάσκωλoν πήρα τις oὕτω ἐκαλεῖτo┘, ὡς Ἰσαῖoς καὶ Λυσίας └└ εἴρηκεν┘┘.58

The analysis of the Magnum done by Reitzenstein was very successful, and his results were rightly applied by Adler in the preparation of her text and also by myself in the specimen of λάμβδα.59 But as the work proceeded, I had to note that there were subjects, where Reitzenstein’s analysis and Adler’s praxis called for revision: dies diem docet. One of the most common sources of the Genuinum was the important etymologicum compiled by Orion in the 5th century – very many of the valuable fragments of the ancient grammarian Philoxenus, which were collected by Theodoridis,60 are preserved by Orion. The manuscript tradition of Orion is disastrous, still worse are the editions we have to resort to. Manuscripts of several versions differing widely in content and in size are preserved, about four different types, one longer and three shorter, have been printed.61 A much better and more complete version was used by the Genuinum, another one not as good, but still also better than our manuscripts, by the Gudianum. Very many of the Orion excerpts in the Genuinum are fortunately signed by subscriptions as Ὠρίων or oὕτως Ὠρίων, but very often only with the letters ωρ (or abbreviations for them). Also in the Gudi­ 57 58

59 60 61

Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 245. Words between └…┘ are left out by Suidas, └└…┘┘ by Photius. Again we see the tendency to abridge by dropping the learned details, – the tendency we met above in the example cited from the Gud. and here in text of AB and (partly) in Suid. The shorter text of the original unexpanded Synagoge (Σ φ 53 p. 495 Cunningh.) runs as follows: φασκώλιoν. ἱμάτιoν, φoρεῖoν. φάσκωλoν δέ ἐστι μαρσίππιoν. The source of the expansion is also known, i.e. the epitome of the lexicon of Harpocration (I quote from a photograph of codex E = Palatinus Heidelbergensis Gr. 375) s.v. φάσκωλoν. πήρα τις (πηρατίς cod.) oὕτως (oὗτως cod.) ἐκαλεῖτo. ὡς Ἰσαῖoς καὶ Λυσίας εἴρηκεν. The text of the fuller version is printed by Gu. Dindorf, Harpocrationis Lexicon in Decem Oratores Atticos. Tomus I, Oxford 1853, 299: φάσκωλoν. πήρα τις oὕτως ἐκαλεῖτo παρ’ αὐτoῖς. Ἰσαῖoς (fr. 171 Sauppe) καὶ Λυσίας ἐν τῷ Πρὸς Δίωνα (fr. 90 Sauppe, p. 341 Thalheim), Ἀριστoφάνης Θεσμoφoριαζoύσαις (fr. 336, 2 K.–A.). Alpers (see n. 41). Theodoridis (see n. 47). See above n. 46.

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anum in front of many of the Orion-glosses we find added the ligatures ωρ or ωρν referring to Orion.62 Unfortunately, however, the compilers of the Genuinum used the same abbreviation ωρ also for another grammarian, Orus (often with the respective title of one of his works added), for which reason frequently already in AB and even more often in the dependent etymologica the ligatures were misinterpreted; unsurprisingly for modern critics before Reitzenstein total confusion arose. In Gaisford’s Index Scriptorum there are the two entries Ὠρίων and Ὦρoς, but most of the citations under Ὦρoς in reality belong to Orion.63 After Reitzenstein’s discoveries and discussions we are in most instances able to assign the glosses to their rightful owner. In his analysis of the Magnum Reitzenstein did not consider Orion as one of its special sources: Magnum’s Orion-glosses therefore are supposed to be taken either from the Genuinum or the Gudianum, and since their respective version of Orion differed, it is normally possible to decide whether an Orion-gloss in the Magnum is from Genuinum or from Gudianum. Consequently all the Orion material which in the Magnum is not from the Gudianum, must necessarily be from the Genuinum and if it is absent from AB, can be used to complete their texts. This is a wonderfully clear and simple „law“, which Adler and I in my edition of λ followed. But the longer I worked with the etymologica the more doubts arose, as to whether Reitzenstein’s analysis in this respect was correct. Inevitably, a thorough examination of the whole problem had to be made, which yielded two surprising results. The glosses of the Magnum with subscriptions (oὕτως) Ὠρίων or Ὦρoς or ωρ in the letters from ἄλφα through μῦ have almost without exception a correspondence in AB or in one of them. The situation changes abruptly from the end of μῦ / beginning of νῦ onwards. Here the Magnum both with Orus- and with Orion-glosses very frequently has subscriptions, which are missing in AB, though the texts themselves of the respective glosses also occur there, often in an abridged form. This observation is true for both genuine glosses of Orion and of Orus, which the compiler of the Magnum could not distinguish, because he only found the ligature ωρ in his source. Consequently it is quite inconceivable that he from νῦ onwards should have used both Orion and Orus independently of the Genuinum. But it can be concluded that one of the common ancestors of AB at some stage of his work began to abridge the text by omitting subscriptions and other learned details. He did the same as we observe was done by B in comparison with the text of A in earlier parts. It is to be expected that this tendency to abridge should also be observed with all the other source references of the Genuinum, and this is actually the case, for example with Herodian, Lycophron, Philoxenus, the lexicon ῥητoρικόν, and others. The result of this investigation reveals that all the Orion-glosses in the Magnum that have a subscription like oὕτως Ὠρίων, no matter whether Orion or Orus originally was meant, have to be used for the constitutio textus of the Genuinum. Also it must be stressed that only the aforementioned type of Orion-glosses of the Magnum must be used for the constitutio textus of the Genuinum. 62 63

Cf. Reitzenstein (n. 16) 100. See the Index Scriptorum in Gaisford’s edition of EM (n. 4) 2321.

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The second surprising result was that Magnum contains numerous lemmata, which by comparison with the transmitted Orion excerpts can be determined to belong to Orion, but in the Magnum always are anonymous and do not have any counterparts in AB. The only possible explanation for this phenomenon is that the Magnum in addition to the Orion-glosses with subcription, which it took from the Genuinum and those it has via Gudianum, has independently exploited an anonymous Orion excerpt. These components of course must not be used for the reconstruction of the text of Genuinum. The Gudianum supplies a striking parallel: here there are many instances, where we find up to two or three almost identical Orion-glosses, one with a source reference, the others anonymous, distributed to the main text and the additions in the margins. One of the Orion-sources of the Gudianum was, by the way, a mixture of an orthographic treatise and an Orion excerpt, of which we also still have a manuscript, an Italo-Greek codex now in the library of Grottaferrata.64 The members of the Gudianum-team have at different stages of the work systematically incorporated material from several manuscripts with almost identical content without regard to the fact that they were producing duplicates. So my investigation yielded results useful not only for the text of the Genuinum itself, but also for a better understanding of the method of working that our Byzantine colleagues employed. We have seen how the scribe of an ancestor of AB in the process of copying the exemplar before him at some stage, between μῦ and νῦ, had made up his mind to abridge the text. Different, but to a certain degree comparable, is a phenomenon that Reitzenstein had observed and correctly explained in a group of later apographa of the Gudianum of the 15th and 16th centuries. Several of them were copied by the Cretan scholar Michael Apostolis at Kandaka on Crete, hence Reitzenstein called the hyparchetype of the group codex Cretensis.65 These apographa all have in common that from the entry ἶφι through λέγω they contain not the text of the Gudi­ anum, but of the Genuinum. Reitzenstein’s explanation is simple and convincing. In their common ancestor, the manusript which Reitzenstein called Cretensis, a quire, maybe one quaternio, had been lost and, since no complete codex of the Gudianum was at hand, the gap was supplemented by materials from a cognate work, the Ge­ nuinum. Reitzenstein already recognized that the codex used was closer to A than to B, but he thought, that its value for the Genuinum was small.66 Here Reitzenstein was wrong. It was not until 1965 that the Italian scholar Aristide Colonna drew attention to an important and much older codex,67 which had escaped Reitzenstein’s attention, the Italo-Greek cod. Vaticanus gr. 1708, written according to Gianelli’s catalogue in the late 12th century,68 but Colonna rightly said: „la data di scrittura … 64 65 66 67 68

On the codex Cryptoferratensi Ζ α III see Reitzenstein (n. 16) 309 n. 6 and Theodoridis (n. 47) 53–60. Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 74–81. Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 74 n. 2: „Die excerpierte Handschrift stimmt näher zu A als zu B und scheint für das Genuinum von geringem Wert.“ A. Colonna, Un antico esemplare dell’Etymologicum Genuinum, in: Bollettino del Comitato per la preparazione della Edizione Nazionale dei Classici Greci e Latini, N.S. 13, 1965, 9–13. C. Gianelli, Codices Vaticani Graeci. Codices 1684–1744, Vatican 1961, 69: „Saec. XII ex.“

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è in realtà più antica di alcuni decenni“,69 and also two of the most competent palaeographers of our days, D. Harlfinger and G. Prato, have dated the manuscript to the end of the 11th century. In all probability the archetype of the mixed etymologicum, i.e. the common ancestor of the Vatic. gr. 1708 and the manuscript used by Apostolis on Crete in the 15th century was produced somewhere in the Italo-Graecia not later than about the middle of the 11th century. The lost copy of the Genuinum that was used was very closely related to A, not identical with A, but even superior. I have published the details elsewhere;70 here I only want to draw attention to a codicological detail, which proves that the lost codex must have been a twinbrother of A. A was written by two scribes; the page where the second scribe (A2) takes over is: fol. 160r (fig. 1). It is obvious that the marginal signs present in A2 are missing in A1; however, they were not added by A2, but omitted by A1. Among these marginalia we sometimes find notes that refer to the content of the lemmata, for instance κα = κανών or σχo = σχόλιoν (fig. 2 a). Just as in A1 these marginalia are missing in the Vatic. gr. 1708 mostly, but not totally! Now and again a marginal note had wandered from the margin into the text and could in this way survive, as σχο in fig. 2 b, which in the codex from which the text of the Gudianum was printed has been depraved into σχεδόν (fig. 2 c). Consequently the layout of the lost twin of A must have looked very much like that of A2. This is another proof for their close relationship. The lost manuscript, the twin of A, is – contrary to Reitzenstein’s opinion – of great value for the Genuinum. That there were further lost manuscripts of the Genuinum of high quality in circulation can be shown from the latest of the great Byzantine lexica, the Pseudo-Zonaras, which was compiled in the first half of the 13th century and is transmitted by no fewer than about 130 manuscripts.71 Reitzenstein’s opinion about it is erroneous; he thought, that it was totally dependent of the Etymologicum Symeonis and „sein Wert für das Etymologikon ist äußerst gering“.72 I have shown in my RE-article on Ps.-Zonaras that this lexicon has used a very good copy of the Ge­ nuinum.73 One striking example may suffice here: Hrd.παθ.

69

70 71 72 73

Δίς καὶ τρίς. └ἀπὸ τoῦ δυάκις καὶ τριάκις. καὶ λέγoυσί τινες. δύo συλλαβῶν ἐγένετo συγκoπή. καὶ πῶς δύναται τρισύλλαβoς δύo συλλαβὰς ἐκκεκόφθαι; πρὸ τoύτoυ λέγoμεν, ὅτι┘ ἀπὸ τoῦ

Colonna (see n. 67) 10 n. 4. I much regret having quoted Colonna too briefly and in that way incorrectly (see n. 29) 264, where I wrote: „… wollte aber die Handschrift als ‚opera alquanto più tarda‘“. Colonna’s full note runs as follows: „La data di scrittura del codice, assegnata dal Gianelli al XII secolo ex., è in realtà più antica di alcuni decenni, poiché il ductus caratteristico dell’Italia meridionale, in genere meno accurato ed elegante di quello orientale, fa pensare facilmente ad opera alquanto più tarda di quella effettiva.“ Alpers (see n. 29) 264–265. Iohannis Zonarae Lexicon ex tribus codicibus manuscriptis nunc primum edidit, observationibus illustravit et indicibus instruxit I. A. H. Tittmann. 2 vols., Leipzig 1808. See the article by Alpers (see n. 41) on the manuscript tradition; cf. also Alpers (see n. 43) 11–47. Reitzenstein (see n. 16) 281. In his article of 1907 (see n. 21) 817, 9 ff., he was more cautious. Alpers (see n. 42) 741–743.

308

Klaus Alpers δυάκις καὶ τριάκις ἆρoν τὸ Α καὶ τὸ Κ καὶ κατὰ συνίζησιν δίς καὶ τρίς. oὕτως Ἡρωδιανός. _________ AB, EM, Zon. : om. Et. Sym. Hrd. παθ. II 255, 14; cf. v. ε 1277 (Ἐχθὲς καὶ χθές) = Hrd. II 182; cf. sch. D. Thr. 276, 31; Tryph. fr. 65 ap. Ap. Dysc. adv. 146, 20 (cf. Schneideri comm. ad loc. p. 165); ep. Hom. AO I 437, 28 (= ep. alph. Hom. χ 15 Dyck = Hrd. II 182, 13); cf. Lobeck, Pathol. Gr. Serm. Elem. I 387 sq., Kassel-Austin ad Ar. fr. 810 ________ └ ┘ supplevi e Zon. : om. AB, EM 3 ἐκκεκόφθαι; πρὸ τoύτoυ Lobeck, Elem. I 388 (vel πρὸς τoῦτo), Lentz : ἐκκεκόφθαι πρὸ τoύτoυ; Zon. 4 ἆρoν Β, Zon. : ἄρoν Α, EM | τὸ alter. om. Zon. 5 oὕτως sq. A, Zon. : om. B, EM

The underlined words are transmitted only by Ps.-Zonaras. It is obvious that they are absolutely indispensable for Herodian’s original text. The codex A was written in Constantinople at the end of the 10th century, not in Italo­Graecia, as was maintained some years ago,74 but it was brought to Southern Italy at some time. In the 14th century it was in the possession of a very learned man with strong philosophical interests, who annotated it with numerous short lexicographical marginalia (A3). He used the space of the broad margins also for copying two longer philosophical treatises. The style of his handwriting has been recognized by Paul Canart and André Jacob as being typical for the Terra d’Otranto.75 I have identified the two treatises, which had remained unidentified until then, in my aforementioned lecture of 1983.76 One of them (on the margin of fol. 60v and continued on the margin of fol. 199v) contains the work of Ps.Andronicus of Rhodes Περὶ παθῶν, which is important for the reconstruction of the Stoic doctrine of the passions.77 The other is an exposition by Eustratius, later metropolitan of Nikaia, written between 1082 and 1086.78 Of the greatest interest however for the tradition of the Greek etymologica is the fact that the shorter marginalia, for the most part distinctions of synonyms, were copied directly from the original of the Gudianum, the 74 75 76 77 78

See Wilson (see n. 9) 371, cf. also Alpers (see n. 15) 532 n. 31 (and the references quoted there). The eastern origin of Vatic. gr. 1818 was also confirmed by D. Harlfinger and G. Prato. See Canart (n. 11), tomus II, XXXIX: „… notas aliquas stili italograeci Hydruntini …, de quo v.d. A. Jacob huiusmodi scripturae benigne me confirmavit.“ See Alpers (n. 9). See Alpers (n. 9) 532–534 and 541 (variants of A3 of Ps. Andronikos); see plates of two folia in volume II, 236–237. See Alpers (n. 9) 534–536 (with plates in volume II, 238–239). Eustratius’ treatise has been edited from A3 and the other witnesses by K. Alpers, Die ‚Definition des Seins‘ des Eustratius von Nikaia. Kritische Neuausgabe, in: D. Harlfinger (ed.), ΦIΛΟΦΡΟΝΗΜΑ. Festschrift für Martin Sicherl zum 75. Geburtstag. Von Textkritik bis Humanismusforschung, Paderborn, München, Wien, Zürich 1990 (Studien zur Geschichte und Kultur des Altertums N.F. 1. Reihe: Monographien, 4. Band) 141–159.

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codex Barberinianus 70 (= d). The learned annotator had the two most important manuscripts of the Greek etymologica together on his desk, as I had them united again in the Vatican library in 1969.79 If anyone had copied A with these marginalia incorporated in his text and A was lost, we would have had the worst possible troubles in clearing up this mess again. The temptation for an editor of the Genui­ num to include the interpolation in his text would be very strong. Only sharp analysis could save him from going wrong. This hypothetical construction is by no means so eccentric as it may seem. In Byzantine times a little lexicon was compiled, which was meant to be a special dictionary on the four historians Agathias, Procopius, Theophylactus Simocatta and Menander Protector. It was used by the compilers of the Gudianum and the Magnum, who had better manuscripts of it than we have. The Magnum quotes it once under the title of τὸ αἱμωδεῖν („to have a toothache“), the first entry in it.80 The first edition made by Sturz was appended to his edition of the Gudianum in 1818.81 A critical edition was prepared by Andrew Dyck and appeared as an appendix to the second volume of the Epimerismi Homerici in 1995.82 Dyck wanted to use the Genuinum also as a witness for his text in his first draft, which he sent to the editors of the SGLG.83 I had serious doubts about his opinion, since I had noticed that the Genuinum in all probability was among the sources of the αἱμωδεῖν-lexicon.84 The question called for an accurate investigation, and I collected all the entries in the Genuinum that had close correspondences to the αἱμωδεῖν, about 20 in number. All of them are only in B, not a single one of them is to be found also in A. It is quite common that genuine glosses of the Genuinum occur only in one of the two manuscripts, but that the complete series consistently, so to speak on purpose, should have been omitted by A, is totally inconceivable. Ergo: the αἱμωδεῖνglosses in B are interpolations. This assumption is further proved when we notice that a continous series of four entries from the αἱμωδεῖν in B occur extra ordinem after the end of ξῖ on the blank space of the page.85 Already Richard Bentley has 79 80 81 82 83 84 85

See K. Alpers, Synonymendistinktionen in Marginalien des Vaticanus Gr. 1818, in: Glotta 48, 1970, 206–212. Cf. Canart (see n. 11) XXXIX; id., Les Vaticani 1487–1962, Vatican 1979 (Studi e Testi 284) 81 n. 6. Cf. also Maleci (n. 14) 70. EM 789,12 … oὕτως εἶχεν εἰς τὸ αἱμωδεῖν. Sturz (see n. 12) coll. 617, 30–631, 2. Lexicon ΑIΜΩΔΕIΝ quod vocatur seu verius ΕΤΥΜΟΛΟΓIΑI ΔIΑΦΟΡΟI. ed. A.R. Dyck, in: Epimerismi Homerici. Pars altera: Epimerismos continens qui ordine alphabetico traditi sunt. ed. A. R. Dyck, Berlin and New York 1995 (SGLG 5/2), 825–991. The editors of SGLG were at that time H. Erbse, A. Kleinlogel and K. Alpers. As mentioned above (n. 52) the article lexicon αἱμ. ζ 3 is excerpted from Genuinum. Another instance is e.g. α 118 ἀρβύλη from Genuinum s.v. ἀρβύλη (Theocrit. 7, 26 with scholion 7, 26b, p. 87, 3 Wendel). A striking example is further the following gloss of Genuinum: Oὐτιδανός. oὐδενὸς λόγoυ ἄξιoς, ἐλάχιστoς ἀπὸ τoῦ oὔτις oὔτιδoς, τoῦ συγκειμένoυ ἀπὸ τῆς oὐ ἀπoφάσεως καὶ τoῦ τις. This text is transmitted in A (and from Gen. in Ps.-Zon. 1479 f.), omitted by B at its proper place, but B adds at the very end of letter o as last entry the following: oὐτιδανός· oὐδενὸς λόγoυ ἄξιoς. ἐκ τoῦ [o–u–– ] ἀρνητικoῦ (ἐκτ [o–u–– ] ἀρνη B) καὶ τoῦ (τὸ B) τίς, ὃ σημαίνει (ση B) τὸ oὐδείς, γίνεται oὔτινoς oὐτιανὸς oὐτιδανός. This is with absolute certainty an excerpt from Lex. αἱμ. o 1: oὐτιδανόν. μηδαμινόν, oὐδενὸς λόγoυ ἄξιoν. ἐκ τῆς oὔ ἀρνήσεως

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pertinently pointed out:86 Ea spatia, qui libros illos postea possidebant, alienis saepe fragmentis nihilque quicquam ad scriptorem attinentibus complere soliti erant. It goes without saying that these interpolations have to be excluded from the text of the Genuinum. Lasserre and Livadaras, who did not care much about source analysis, have those interpolations in their text.87 But it is even more crucial for the αἱμωδεῖν itself and its date and for the history of Byzantine lexicography that the chronology and the correct interrelations are not obliterated. I hope to have given an impression of how arduous and difficult the task of making a critical edition of the Genuinum really is, indeed so difficult that Richard Reitzenstein, undisputedly the best expert on the subject, resigned and gave up. It was a very regrettable idea of Benedetto Marzullo’s, who in the seventies and eighties of the last century put inexperienced pupils of his to work on single letters or parts of letters leaving the pages of Museum Criticum filled with their concoctions. The Genuinum is not the training area for beginners. The editor not only has to have command of the most complicated tradition of all of the etymologica, and to know their respective sources, but also has – so to speak – to make the personal acquaintance of the various scribes in their cultural milieu, to know their mentality and method of working. One has – literally speaking – to sit together with them at their desk or look over their shoulder. If one has patience, experience and command of the matter, and also the goddess Fortuna on one’s side, one can be rewarded with quite unexpected discoveries. Through many years of patient collecting, comparing, analysing, and rejecting extraneous materials, a special group of curious citations, which occur only in the Genuinum (and from it in its descendants) was accumulated. On some of these isolated texts several scholars had made rather bewildered suggestions about their nature and origin. But as all these scholars only worked from one entry to the next within limited areas of the text, nobody was able to see more than one or two of these texts, which are scattered over the whole Genuinum, and nobody had the idea of assembling them all. Having done this and having excluded all those citations that come from some preserved work, I collected a small corpus of some 40 items. To my own great surprise – χρημάτων ἄελπτoν oὐδέν – these citations turned out

86 87

(ἀρνητικoῦ etiam cod. D) καὶ τoῦ τίς, õὃ σημαίνει τὸ oὐδείςÕ (õ…Õ hic testes omnes, post oὔτις transposuit Dyck), γίνεται oὔτις, ἡ γενικὴ oὔτινoς, oὐτιανός καὶ πλεoνασμῷ oὐτιδανός. Gen. has taken its gloss from Choeroboscus’ commentary on Theodosius 2, 55, 4–6 Hilgard (Gramm. Graec. IV2): τὸ δὲ oὐτιδανός ἀπὸ τoῦ oὔτις, τoῦ συγκειμένoυ ἀπὸ τῆς oὐ ἀπoφάσεως καὶ τoῦ τίς, oὐτιανός καὶ oὐτιδανός, adding from another source the explanation oὐδενὸς λόγoυ ἄξιoς. This combination of two sources in Gen. was the basis for the author of lex. αἱμ., who did not depend on Choeroboscus directly, as Dyck assumed, where he could not find the words oὐδενὸς λόγoυ ἄξιoς. We have, thus, the very intricate dependence: Choerob. + x => Gen. (A, Zon.) => lex. αἱμ. => [Gen.] B. R. Bentley, letter to Johann Christian Biel of 1714, printed by M. Schmidt, Hesychii Alexandrini Lexicon. Volumen quartum, Halle 1864, VI–VIII (here: VII). Etymologicum Magnum Genuinum / Symeonis Etymologicum una com Magna Grammatica / Etymologicum Magnum Auctum. Synoptice ediderunt Franciscus Lasserre – Nicolaus Livadaras. Volumen primum α–ἀμωσγέπως, Rome 1976. Volumen secundum ἀνά–βώτoρες, Athens 1992.

311

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to be fragments of an unknown Greek novel of the Second Sophistic from about the nd 88 Klaus Alpers 324 2 century AD.

r

, f.f. 160 c. gr. 1 1– –Vati Fig. Fig. Vatic. gr.1818 1818, 160r

Fig. 2a – Vatic. gr. 1818, f. 195r r Fig. 2a – Vatic. gr. 1818, f. 195

88

These nice remnants of an enjoyable Greek novel are collected and edited by K. Alpers, Zwischen Athen, Abdera und Samos. Fragmente eines unbekannten Romans aus der Zeit der Zweiten Sophistik, in: KAINOTOMIA. Die Erneuerung der griechischen Tradition. Colloquium Pavlos Tsermias (4.11.1995), hrsg. von M. Billerbeck und J. Schamp, Freiburg/Fribourg r 1996, 19–55. Fig. 2b – Vatic. gr. 1708, f. 98

312

Fig. 2a – Vatic. gr. 1818, f. 195r

Klaus Alpers

Fehler! Formatvorlage nicht r Fig. 2b – Vatic. gr. –1708, 98r1708, Fig. 2b Vatic.f. gr. f. 98definiert.

325

Fig. Et.Gudianum, Gudianum, ed. ed. Sturz, Fig. 2c2c– –Et. Sturz,col. col.302 302

BIBLIOGRAPHY Adler A., Suidas (Lexikograph), in: RE IV A, 1931, 675–718 BIBLIOGRAPHY Alpers K., Bericht über Stand und Methode der Ausgabe des Etymologicum Genuinum (Mit einer Ausgabe des Buchstaben Λ), København 1969 (Det Kongelige Danske Videnskabernes SelHistorisk-filologiske Meddelelser Adler A.,skab. Suidas (Lexikograph), in: RE IV A,44,3) 1931, 675–718 Alpers K., Synonymendistinktionen in Marginalien des Vaticanus Gr. 1818, in:Genuinum Glotta 48,(Mit 1970,einer Alpers K., Bericht über Stand und Methode der Ausgabe des Etymologicum 206–212 Ausgabe des Buchstaben Λ), København 1969 (Det Kongelige Danske Videnskabernes Alpers K., review of Sell, in: Gnomon 42, 1970, 120–125 Selskab. Historisk-filologiske Meddelelser 44,3) Alpers K., ‚Zonarae‘ Lexicon, in: RE X A, 1972, 732–763 Alpers K., Synonymendistinktionen in Marginalien des Vaticanus Gr. 1818, in: Glotta 48, 1970, Alpers K., Das attizistische Lexikon des Oros. Untersuchung und kritische Ausgabe der Fragmente, 206–212 Berlin and New York 1981 (SGLG 4) Alpers K., review Sell, in: Gnomon 42,im 1970, 120–125 Alpers K., DieofEtymologiensammlung Hodegos des Anastasios Sinaites, das Etymologicum Alpers K.,Gudianum 'Zonarae'(Barb. Lexicon, in: und RE der X A, 1972, 732–763 Gr. 70) Codex Vind. Theol. Gr. 40, in: JÖB 34, 1984, 55–68 Alpers K., K., Das Oros. von Untersuchung undNeuausgabe, kritische Aus Alpers Die attizistische ‚Definition desLexikon Seins‘ desdes Eustratius Nikaia. Kritische in: D. gabe Harl- der finger (ed.), ΦIΛΟΦΡΟΝΗΜΑ. Festschrift Fragmente, Berlin and New York 1981 (SGLG für 4) Martin Sicherl zum 75. Geburtstag. Von Textkritik Humanismusforschung,imPaderborn, Wien, Zürich 1990 zur Alpers K., Die bis Etymologiensammlung Hodegos München, des Anastasios Sinaites, das(Studien Etymologicum Geschichte des der Altertums 1. Reihe: 4. Band) 141–159 Gudianum (Barb.und Gr.Kultur 70) und CodexN.F. Vind. Theol.Monographien, Gr. 40", in: JÖB 34, 1984, 55–68 Alpers Überlieferung griechischen in: D. Harlfinger and G. Alpers K., K., DieMarginalien 'Definitionzur des Seins' des der Eustratius von Etymologika, Nikaia. Kritische Neuausgabe, in: D. Prato (edd.), Paleografia e Codicologia Greca. Atti del II Colloquio internationale (BerliHarlfinger (ed.), ΦIΛΟΦΡΟΝΗΜΑ. Festschrift für Martin Sicherl zum 75. Geburtstag. Von no-Wolfenbüttel, 17–21 ottobre 1983), Alessandria 1991 Textkritik bis Humanismusforschung, Paderborn, München, Wien, Zürich 1990 (Studien zur Alpers K., Eine byzantinische Enzyklopädie des 9. Jahrhunderts. Zu Hintergrund, Entstehung und Geschichte und Kultur des Altertums N.F. 1. Reihe: Monographien, 141–159 BeGeschichte des griechischen Etymologikons in Konstantinopel und 4. imBand) italogriechischen Alpers K.,reich, Marginalien zur and Überlieferung griechischen Etymologika, in: D. Harlfinger and G. in: G. Cavallo others (edd.),der Scritture, Libri e Testi nelle Aree Provinciali di Bisanzio. Prato Vol. (edd.), Paleografia I, Spoleto 1991 e Codicologia Greca. Atti del II Colloquio internationale (BerlinoWolfenbüttel, 17–21Athen, ottobre 1983), Alessandria 1991 eines unbekannten Romans aus der Zeit Alpers K., Zwischen Abdera und Samos. Fragmente Zweiten Sophistik, in: KAINOTOMIA. Erneuerung derZu griechischen Tradition. Collo- und Alpers K.,derEine byzantinische Enzyklopädie des Die 9. Jahrhunderts. Hintergrund, Entstehung quium Pavlos Tsermias (4.11.1995), hrsg. von M. und J. Schamp, Freiburg/Fribourg Geschichte des griechischen Etymologikons in Billerbeck Konstantinopel und im italogriechischen 1996, Bereich, in:19–55 G. Cavallo and others (edd.), Scritture, Libri e Testi nelle Aree Provinciali di Alpers K.,Vol. Die griechischen Orthographien aus Spätantike und byzantinischer Zeit, in: BZ 97, 2004, Bisanzio. I, Spoleto 1991 1–50 Alpers K., Zwischen Athen, Abdera und Samos. Fragmente eines unbekannten Romans aus der Alpers K., Untersuchungen zu Johannes Sardianos und seinem Kommentar zu den Progymnasmata Zeit der Zweiten Sophistik, in: KAINOTOMIA. Die Erneuerung der griechischen Tradition. des Aphthonios, Braunschweig 2009 (Abhandlungen der Braunschweigischen Wiss. Ge-

Colloquium Pavlos Tsermias (4.11.1995), hrsg. von M. Billerbeck und J. Schamp, Freiburg/Fribourg 1996, 19–55 Alpers K., Die griechischen Orthographien aus Spätantike und byzantinischer Zeit, in: BZ 97, 2004, 1–50 Alpers K., Untersuchungen zu Johannes Sardianos und seinem Kommentar zu den Progymnasmata des Aphthonios, Braunschweig 2009 (Abhandlungen der Braunschweigischen

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sellschaft Band LXII), 2. durchgesehene und verbesserte Auflage, Braunschweig 2013 (as digital resource: http://www.digibib.tubs.de/?docid=00047848), 142 ff. Baldi D., Etymologicum Symeonis: tradizione manoscritta ed edizione critica. Considerazioni prelininari, in: Vie per Bisanzio, a cura di A. Rigo, A. Babuin e M. Trizio, Bari 2013, 855–874 Bentley R., Letter to Johann Christian Biel of 1714, printed by M. Schmidt, Hesychii Alexandrini Lexicon. Volumen quartum, Halle 1864, VI–VIII Bossi F., review of Berger, in: Maia 27, 1975, 155–157 Canart P., Bibliothecae Apostolicae Vaticanae codices manu scripti recensiti. Codices Vaticani Graeci, Codices 1745–1962. Tomus I, Vatican 1970, 205–208; Tomus II, Vatican 1973 Capocci V., Codices Barberiniani Graeci. Tomus I: Codices 1–163, Vatican 1958 Cellerini A., Introduzione all’Etymologicum Gudianum. Supplemento n. 6 al „Bollettino dei Classici“. Accademia nazionale dei Lincei, [Rome] 1988 Christ W. and Paranikas M., Anthologia Graeca carminum christianorum, Leipzig 1871 Cohn L., review of Reitzenstein, Geschichte, in: DLZ 18, 1897, 1414–1418 Colonna A., Un antico esemplare dell’Etymologicum Genuinum, in: Bollettino del Comitato per la preparazione della Edizione Nazionale dei Classici Greci e Latini, N.S. 13, 1965, 9–13 Cramer J. A., Anecdota Graeca e codd. manuscriptis bibliothecarum Oxoniensium, vol. I, Oxford 1835 Cramer J. A., Anecdota Graeca e codd. manuscriptis bibliothecarum Oxoniensium, vol. III, Oxford 1836 Cunningham I., review of Baldi, in: BMCR 2014.01.14 Degani E., review of Sell, in: Maia N. S. 25, 1973, 88–91 De Stefani E. L., Per le fonti dell’Etimologico Gudiano, in: BZ 16, 1907, 52–68 De Stefani E. L., Il Lessico ai Canoni giambici di Giovanni Damasceno secondo un ms. romano, in: BZ 21, 1912, 431–435 Etymologicum Graecae linguae Gudianum et alia grammaticorum scripta e codicibus manuscriptis nunc primum edita, accedunt notae ad Etymologicum Magnum ineditae E. H. Barkeri, Imm. Bekkeri, Lvd. Kvlencampii, Amad. Peyroni aliorumque, quas digessit et una cum suis edidit Frider. Gvl. Stvrzivs. Cum indice locvpletissimo. Lipsiae 1818 Etymologicum Gudianum quod vocatur. Recensuit et apparatum criticum indicesque adiecit Ed. Aloysius De Stefani. Fasciculus I Litteras Α–Β continens, Leipzig 1909; Fasciculus II Litteras Β (Βωμoλόχoι)–Ζ (Ζειαί) continens, Leipzig 1920 Etymologicum Magnum seu Magnum Grammaticae Penu. Opera Friderici Sylburgii Veterani. Editio Nova Correctior, Lipsiae 1816 Etymologicum Magnum seu verius Lexicon saepissime vocabulorum origines indagans … ad codd. mss. recensuit et notis variorum instruxit Thomas Gaisford S.T.P., Oxonii 1848 Etymologicum Genuinum et Etymologicum Symeonis (β), hrsg. von G. Berger (Beitr. z. Klass. Phil. 45), Meisenheim am Glan 1972 Etymologicum Magnum Genuinum / Symeonis Etymologicum una com Magna Grammatica / Etymologicum Magnum Auctum. Synoptice ediderunt Franciscus Lasserre – Nicolaus Livadaras. Volumen primum α–ἀμωσγέπως, Rome 1976. Volumen secundum ἀνά–βώτoρες, Athens 1992. Das Etymologicum Symeonis (α–ἀίω), hrsg. von H. Sell (Beitr. z. Klass. Phil. 25), Meisenheim am Glan 1968 Etymologicum Symeonis ΓBΕ (Corpus Christianorum series Graeca 79), ed. D. Baldi, Turnhout 2013 Follieri E., report on Alpers, Marginalien, in BZ 84/85, 1991–92, 175–176 Geanakoplos D. J., Byzantium and the Renaissance. Greek Scholars in Venice, Hamden (Connecticut) 1973 (First published under the title: Greek Scholars in Venice, Harvard 1962) Gianelli C., Codices Vaticani Graeci. Codices 1684–1744, Vatican 1961 Harlfinger D., in: Griechische Handschriften und Aldinen. Eine Ausstellung anläßlich der XV. Tagung der Mommsen-Gesellschaft in der Herzog August Bibliothek Wolfenbüttel, Wolfenbüttel 1978 (Ausstellungskataloge der Herzog August Bibliothek Nr. 24)

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Harpocrationis Lexicon in Decem Oratores Atticos. Ex recensione Gu. Dindorfii, Tomus I, Oxford 1853 Hephaestionis Enchiridion cum commentariis veteribus ed. M. Consbruch, Leipzig 1906 Iohannis Damasceni Canones iambici cum commentario et indice verborum ex schedis Augusti Nauck editi (iussu Imperialis Academiae edidit P. Nikitin), in: Bulletin de l’Académie Impériale des Sciences de St.-Pétersbourg N.S. 4 (36), 1893, 199–223 (= Mélanges Gréco-Romains 6, 1893, 105–129) 1871 Krumbacher K., report on Papadopulos-Kerameus A., Zur Geschichte der griechischen Etymologika, in: BZ 8, 1899, 212–213 Lexicon ΑIΜΩΔΕIΝ quod vocatur seu verius ΕΤΥΜΟΛΟΓIΑI ΔIΑΦΟΡΟI. ed. A. R. Dyck, in: Epimerismi Homerici. Pars altera: Epimerismos continens qui ordine alphabetico traditi sunt. ed. A. R. Dyck, Berlin and New York 1995 (SGLG 5/2), 825–991 Maleci St., Il codice Barberinianus Graecus 70 dell’Etymologicum Gudianum, Supplemento n. 15 al „Bollettino dei Classici“. Accademia nazionale dei Lincei, [Rome] 1995 Meletius, De natura hominis, in: J. A. Cramer, Anecdota Oxoniensia, vol. III, Oxford 1836 Micciarelli Collesi A.M., Nuovi „Excerpta“ dall’„Etimologico“ di Orione, in: Byzantion 40, 1970, 517–542 Miller E., Mélanges de Littérature Grecque, Paris 1868 Müller B. A., review of Kroll, W., Geschichte der klassischen Philologie, 2., verb. Aufl., Berlin u. Leipzig 1919, in: Philologische Wochenschrift 46, 1926, 1162–117 Nickau K., review of Berger, in: BZ 68, 1975, 393–397 Olivier J.-M. – Monégier du Sorbier M.-A., Manuscrits grecs récemment découverts en République Tchèque. Supplement au Catalogue des manuscrits grecs de Tchécoslovaquie [Documents, études et répertoires publiés par l’Institut de Recherche et d’Histoire des Textes 76], Paris 2006 Orionis Thebani Etymologicum … primum edidit F. Guil. Sturzius, Leipzig 1820 Pfeiffer R., History of Classical Scholarshop from 1300 to 1850, Oxford 1976 Pohlenz M., Richard Reitzenstein, in: Nachrichten v. d. Gesellsch. d. Wissenschaften zu Göttingen. Geschäftl. Mitteilungen aus d. Berichtsjahr 1930/31, Berlin 1931, 66–76 Reitzenstein R., Geschichte der griechischen Etymologika. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Philologie in Alexandria und Byzanz, Leipzig 1897 Reitzenstein R., „Etymologika“, in: Pauly-Wissowa, RE VI 1 (1907) 807–817 Reitzenstein R., review of: Suidae Lexicon ed. A. Adler, Pars I, in: Gnomon 5, 1929, 238 Scaliger J., Poemata omnia ex Museio Petri Scriverii, Antwerpen: Ex officina Plantiniana, 1615 Schneider J., Les Traités orthographiques grecs antiques et byzantins [Corpus Christianorum: Lingua Patrum III], Turnhout 1999 Suidae Lexicon. Edidit A. Adler. Pars I: Α–Γ, Leipzig 1928; Pars II: Δ–Θ, ibid. 1931; Pars III: Κ–Ο.Ω, ibid. 1933; Pars IV: Π–Ψ, ibid. 1935; Pars V: Praefationem Indices Dissertationem continens, ibid. 1938 Synagoge. Συναγωγὴ λέξεων χρησίμων. Text of the Original Version and of MS. B. ed. I. C. Cunningham, Berlin and New York 2003 (SGLG 10) Theodoridis Chr., Die Fragmente des Grammatikers Philoxenos, Berlin and New York 1976 (SGLG 2) Wendel C., Orion no. 3, in: RE XVIII 1, 1939, 1083–1987 Wentzel G., Beiträge zur Geschichte der griechischen Lexikographen, in: Sitzungsberichte d. kgl. preuss. Akademie d. Wiss. zu Berlin XXVI, 1895, 477–487 (reprinted in: K. Latte and H. Erbse, Lexica Graeca Minora, Hildesheim 1965, 1–11) Wilson N., On the Transmission of the Greek Lexica, in: GRBS 23, 1982, 369–375 Iohannis Zonarae Lexicon ex tribus codicibus manuscriptis nunc primum edidit, observationibus illustravit et indicibus instruxit I. A. H. Tittmann. 2 vols., Leipzig 1808

19 PERFORMING A SPEECH: THE SUITABLE INTRODUCTION IN GEORGE OF TREBIZOND’S RHETORICORUM LIBRI V Lucia Calboli Montefusco Abstract Since the earliest rhetorical handbooks the role of an appropriate exordium has always been considered to be crucial for the success of an oration. Despite its key importance, only the Rhetorica ad Herennium and Cicero’s De inventione give detailed, albeit diverging, precepts about it. The scanty information given later by Quintilian and most of the Latin handbooks of the imperial period is drawn only from Cicero, but George of Trebizond, in the early Renaissance, shows himself perfectly aware of the Rhetorica ad Herennium as well as of Cicero. Moreover, his chapter De exordio is all the more interesting, because, by using his remarkable ability to compose a patchwork from different sources, George draws his precepts not only from the aforementioned two handbooks, but also from Quintilian’s Insti­ tutio oratoriae and Hermogenes’ Περὶ εὑρέσεως. The result is noteworthy and absolutely new for a Latin rhetorical handbook; however, it is sometimes confused. In this paper I will focus on a few passages of this intriguing chapter to highlight the skill, but also the limitations of his author. George of Trebizond,1 very frustrated as he was because at his time the oratoria facultas was much more neglected and despised than any other good art (non pos­ sum non uehementer dolere, quod his nostris temporibus nulla fere bonarum artium tam abiecta atque contempta habeatur, p. 1), decided to contrast this trend as more ardently as longer the studies of rhetoric had been disregarded (Huius tam praeclarae rerum publicarum tutricis studia tanto nobis ardentiore animo suscipienda illus­ trandaque uidentur, quanto diutius iacuerunt, p. 4). The result was an enormous rhetorical handbook, the Rhetoricorum libri quinque,2 in which he displayed an 1

2

As J. Monfasani (George of Trebizond. A Biography and a Study of His Rhetoric and Logic, Leiden, 1976, 4 f.) points out, “of Trebizond” is misleading. George was actually born in Crete in 1395 and his relationship with the city of Trebizond is due to the fact that his great-great-grandfather was born there (he later emigrated to Crete). For a detailed biography of this author, beside the quoted work of Monfasani, cf. G. Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric and Its Christian and Secular Tradition from Ancient to Modern Times, London, 1980, 199–205 and the more recent book of P. Mack, A History of Renaissance Rhetoric 1380–1620, Oxford, 2011, 39 ff. George composed his Rhetoricorum libri quinque during his teaching activity in Venice and probably published it in 1433. The numbers of the pages mentioned in this paper refer to the edition of L. Deitz, Georgius Trapezuntius, Rhetoricorum libri quinque, Hildesheim-Zürich-

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extremely large doctrine. Its content was actually a product – as he said – of a collage of information drawn from previous authors and from a personal knowledge of Cicero’s speeches (Quare his libris, quum quae ab aliis bene dicta iudicauimus, tum quae ipsi legendis summi auctoris orationibus intelleximus … explicare consti­ tuimus, p. 4). Nevertheless George rarely quotes these authors. He prefers drawing a bit from here, a bit from there, and through interweaving all this stuff he is able to compose an absolutely new set of rules. George develops his precepts according to the sequence of the usual parts of a typical speech, as he found it in the Rhetorica ad Herennium. He therefore examines the exordium first. George’s account of the exordium is certainly longer (pp. 9–33) than any other author’s account of the same topic in the Latin tradition.3 The reason is that George, drawing from different sources, explores the question from different points of view: being Greek and a cultivated man, he is able to paste into the traditional Latin doctrine of the exordium, available in Cicero’s De Inven­ tione (Inv. 1.20–26), in the Rhetorica ad Herennium (Rhet. Her. 1.5–11) and in Quintilian’s Institutio Oratoria (Inst. 4.1.1–71), the precepts, till then ignored in the West, of the Περὶ εὑρέσεως (pp. 93, 5–108, 17 Rabe) attributed to Hermogenes of Tarsos.4 He even goes beyond these sources and provides several examples of exordia from Cicero’s speeches. Looking to link these sources together, he often manages to skilfully manipulate them so as to create smooth transitions from one to another, but sometimes this attempt leads to some difficulties. Being impossible to discuss the whole chapter on the exordium in this essay, I will only focus on a few passages to highlight the skill, but also the limitations of this author. One of the most remarkable result of George’s method of composition is the long passage (pp. 12–18) concerned with the captatio benevolentiae, which, according to the rhetorical handbooks, is one of the three goals of the exordium. Here the precepts of the Latin sources (Cic. Inv. 1.22; Rhet. Her. 1.8; Quint. Inst. 4.1.6– 29) are combined with the precepts drawn from the Hermogenic prooemia ἐξ

3 4

New York 2006 (reprint of the edition by Christianus Wechelus, Paris 1538). The aim of George was to compose a handbook that could rival Quintilian’s Institutio oratoria: on this supposed antiquintilianism, cf. Th. Conley, Rhetoric in the European Tradition, Chicago and London, 1990, 115; J. Monfasani, George of Trebizond. A Biography, 262; J. Monfasani, “Episodes of Anti-Quintilianism in the Italian Renaissance: Quarrels on the Orator as a Vir Bonus and Rhetoric as Scientia Bene Dicendi”, Rhetorica 10, 1992, 119–138. Anyway, V. Cox (“Rhetoric and Humanism in Quattrocento Venice”, Renaissance Quarterly 56, 2003, 675) has doubts about an actual use of this “idiosyncratic work” in schools. P. Mack (A History of Renaissance Rhetoric, 43) speaks of “a fuller and more nuanced account of the exordium than was usual in the Latin tradition”. Quotations from this work are from the Teubner edition of H. Rabe, Hermogenis Opera, Teubner, Stuttgart, 1969. A French translation: M. Patillon, Hermogène. L’art rhétorique. Exercices préparatoires, États de cause, Invention, Catégories stylistiques, Méthode de l’habilité, Paris, 1997, 209–318; an English translation: G. Kennedy, Invention and Method. Two Rhetorical Treatises from the Hermogenic Corpus, Translated with Introductions and Notes by G. A. Kennedy, Atlanta, 2005, 4–29. The last survey of the bibliography on the question of the attribution is the very recent essay of P. Chiron, “Hermogène: 1913–2009”, Lustrum 53, 2011, pp. 151– 232, 195.

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ὑπολήψεως (pp. 93, 5–100, 23 Rabe), and with quotations of several Ciceronian speeches. This makes the passage really complex. First of all, George borrows from the Rhetorica ad Herennium and Cicero’s De inventione two elements, the person (persona) and the case itself / the facts themselves (causa), which since the oldest times had been considered useful starting points to build an exordium.5 Already from now his creative approach to his sources comes to the fore: he lists (p. 12) four persons that can be exploited to stir the goodwill of the judges: our own person (nostra persona), the person of our opponents (adversarii), the person of the judge (iudex) and the person of those who are not directly involved in the case (ei qui extra causam sunt). None of his sources was the model for his list. Cicero (Inv. 1.22) and the author of the Rhetorica ad Herennium (1.8) only mention our own person (nostra persona), the person of the opponents (adversarii) and that of the hearers (auditorum persona). Quintilian (Inst. 4.1.6) criticises this threefold classification of persons as insufficient and adds the person of the pleader (actor causae). Hermogenes (pp. 94, 14–95, 3 Rabe) lists the judges, the prosecutor, the defender, the doer himself and those who are not directly involved in the case as persons supposed to have to remove prejudices (ὑπολήψεις) against themselves. Inside his discussion, moreover, these sources overlap and George multiplies the persons, from whose behaviour the captatio be­ nevolentiae can be derived. In the section on nostra persona, George certainly derives material from Cicero’s De Inventione and from the Rhetorica ad Herennium. These handbooks were based upon Greek sources, which, in accordance with Greek court procedure, described the behaviour of the defendant who was the same person as the orator. However, seeing the nostra persona in this way was not consistent with Roman court procedure where, as Quintilian later noted (Inst. 4.1.6), the orator was the actor causae rather than the defendant himself. George is aware of this difficulty and, though copying almost verbatim the first sentence from the corresponding passage of the Rhetorica ad Herennium (1.8), which focuses on the potential emotional power of a praiseworthy nostrum officium, he intentionally quotes the introduction of Cicero’s Pro Flacco to avoid the risk of being considered unaware of the problem (p. 13 ne quis dubitaret nos, patroni et eius de quo dicitur, personam unam putare). In the introduction of Pro Flacco, Cicero was actually trying to win over the judges by praising his own behaviour on the occasion when, with Flaccus’ help and advice, he saved his country. In other words, he used not only his own ethos, but also Flaccus’, in order to secure the goodwill of his judges.6 Nostra persona, in the Pro Flacco, was actually split into the two persons of the patronus (Cicero) and of the cliens (Flaccus). Having highlighted this double value of the topos a nostra persona, George proceeds to quote other examples to show how the precepts

5 6

Cf. Arist. Rhet. 1415 a 26 ff. ; cf. Cic. De Orat. 2.321; Part. 28. In Cic. De Orat. 2.182 ff. this distinction between the ethos of the orator and the ethos of his client is expressly considered as very fruitful to win the case: cf. L. Calboli Montefusco, “Ci­ cerone, De oratore: la doppia funzione dell’ ethos dell’oratore”, Rhetorica 10, 1992, 245 ff.

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that are useful to capture the goodwill of the judges, sometimes are only relevant for the person of the patronus, and sometimes apply only to the person of the cliens.7 The next person that George deals with as a source for securing the goodwill of the judges is the person of the accusator (p. 15). Since George has so far been following Cicero and Rhetorica ad Herennium, we would have expected him to present the accusator as the adversarius of the couple patronus­cliens. However, our expectations are not verified. For George (pp. 15–16) turns now his attention to Hermogenes’ treatise, and starts again with the list of the persons involved in a case: prosecutor, defender and doer himself. We are entitled to ask why George introduces these persons at this point. In Hermogenes these persons do not occur within the framework of a discussion about the captatio benevolentiae. As I said, Hermogenes handles them as sources of invention of introductions on the basis of the prejudices widespread against them. For example, with regard to the person who is prosecuting someone, Hermogenes (95, 18–97, 25 Rabe) teaches that he is often suspected of personal hatred or envy. Therefore Hermogenes advises the prosecutor to reject envy and to handle the suspicion of hatred in accordance with the specific circumstances when inventing a proemium based on his person. Also, the person who speaks in someone’s defense, according to Hermogenes (98, 1–99, 8 Rabe), can be suspected to be deriving advantage from the situation; therefore the defender’s first task is to construct an introduction such that it will be able to remove this suspicions. The doer himself, finally, can be the target of favourable or unfavourable prejudices that can be reinforced or diminished by his prosecutor or his defender (99, 9–100, 11 Rabe). Returning to George: he is still focusing on the methods of securing the goodwill of the judges. By inserting the material from Hermogenes, he shows that he considers the efforts of the above-mentioned persons to remove the different kinds of prejudices that exist against themselves as perfectly fitting his discussion of the captatio benevolentiae. In other words, he is now presenting the prosecutor, as well as the defender or the person who is accused, as possible actualisations of nostra persona when, as it was the case in Cicero’s De inventione and in the Rhetorica ad Herennium, it was meant to be the person pleading the case. Furthermore, this allows George to add to Hermogenes’s precepts about the accuser and the defender a few comments drawn from Quintilian’s advice to the actor causae (Inst. 4.1.7–8). Only after this parenthesis, needed to join together the two different doctrines, George goes back to explain how to win over the judges by exploiting the qualities of the person of the other categories of people mentioned at the beginning (adver­ sarii, iudices, eorum qui extra causam sunt) and by discussing the qualities of the causa itself (pp. 16–18). Again he freely alternates his sources: only the Latin handbooks for giving precepts referred to the opponents and the judges (Inv. 1.22; Rhet. Her. 1.8; Quint. Inst. 4.1.14; 4.1.16), only Hermogenes for the precepts referred to the persons not involved in the discussion (p. 100, 12–21 Rabe) and again only 7

The introduction of the Pro C. Rabirio, e.g., still quoted as based on the praise of nostrum offi­ cium, only refers to Cicero’s officium when defending a ruined friend, whereas the emotional pressure on the audience because of the mention of nostra incommoda in Cicero’s Pro Sulla was only due to Sulla’s incommoda (pp. 13–14).

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Cicero’s De Inventione (Inv. 1.22) and the Rhetorica ad Herennium (1.8) for the precepts referred to the subject itself. As to the examples, George not only quotes two introductions of Cicero’s speeches,8 but also displays his own knowledge of Homer’s Ilias – we should not forget that he was Greek – and mentions Nestor’s address to Agamemnon and Achilles (Il. 1.254 ff.). So far the focus has been on the traditional theory of the exordium, i.e. how the introduction can fulfil its threefold task of making the listeners receptive, attentive and well disposed.9 Now George is looking for a transition to the different approach to the exordium available in Hermogenes’ Περὶ εὑρέσεως. The way he finds is extremely ingenious. As in a flashback he presents all the persons presented up to this point as persons whose opinion of the case and of each other is fundamental to build an exordium: consistently he says that what he has been discussing so far was a topic ex opinionibus, which is the Latin equivalent of the expression ἐκ τῆς ὑπολήψεως used in his own country (p. 18). Indeed removing the ὑπολήψεις about judges, prosecutor, defender, doer, and those who are extra causam was considered by Hermogenes as the first and the best method to construct an introduction (93, 5 ff. Rabe). George, who has already pasted part of this set of Hermogenes’ precepts into his treatment of the captatio benevolentiae, needs now to emphasise the value of the opinions. The easiest way to achieve this is to show how the same situation can be approached from two different points of view (p. 19). He draws from Hermogenes (p. 94, 10–21 Rabe) the case of some men who, though being exiled, during a war came to the aid of their country and contributed to the victory, and he suggests two opposite introductions: the first, a persona exulum, aims at amplifying their value and consequently advises to bring them back and to restore them as citizens. The second introduction, a re ipsa, focuses on the very big mistake of despising what was considered as the custom of a country, its laws and the already given judgements, and therefore advises against restoring these persons to the city (p. 19). However, despite his ability, George makes a significant mistake: he fails to notice that in Hermogenes’ text the persons mentioned are objects of prejudices, not subjects who have opinions themselves about other persons or facts. At this point, though a product of mistake, the bridge to the new topic has been built, and George can now continue to explain why the introductions ex opinionibus often coexist with other kinds of introductions. Indeed, the introductions ἐκ τῆς ὑπολήψεως were not the only ones examined by Hermogenes. He had also described those ἐξ ὑποδιαιρέσεως (by subdivision: 101, 1 ff. Rabe), those ἐκ περιουσίας (a fortiori: 104, 1 ff. Rabe) and those ἀπὸ καιροῦ (from the occasion: 105, 10 ff. Rabe). George now, drawing from Hermogenes also these precepts, mentions the possibility to have introductions a partitione quadam aut exupera­ 8

9

Referring to the adversaries, George quotes (p. 17) from Cicero the introduction of the speech In Vatinium, as an example of how to stir in the audience hatred against the opponents, and the introduction of the speech Pro Quinctio to show how the comparison between the miserable situation of the defendant and the powerful and fortunate position of his adversary can arouse envy against the latter. The quotation of Homer refers to the persons who are extra causam. Cf. in this regard L. Calboli Montefusco, Exordium Narratio Epilogus, Studi sulla teoria retorica greca e romana delle parti del discorso, Bologna, 1988, 1 ff.

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tione aut confectione (p. 19). The reason for taking them into account – he says – is their usefulness: although all of them could be considered as belonging to the general category of the introductions ex opinionibus, by their being more specific they allow the orator an easier job. Again the long passage devoted to this question is not easy. Hermogenes, of course, is the only source, but as George continuously looks for creating something new and original, he modifies what he finds in the Greek handbook and manipulates or even substitutes the examples with results that sometimes are not consistent. The most evident case, in my opinion, concerns a comment that George adds when dealing with the first situation of the introductions a partitione (p.19 f.). Looking at the Greek text we only read that the question concerns two crimes, both of them deserving punishment: e.g. “some men destroyed a city during a war and plowed up the ground, the ground failed to produce crops, and the men are tried for impiety” (pp. 101, 10–102, 6 Rabe). The two crimes are ‘having destroyed the city’ and ‘having plowed it up’. In this case – says Hermogenes – we could make an introduction as follows: “Now, if they had been punished for destroying the city, it would have been rightly done; but now much more so, since they determined to plow up the city that they had destroyed”. Like Hermogenes, George mentions two crimes (duplex iniuria) committed by the adversaries, then he says that with a sort of division (quasi dividendo) the state will consider sufficient punishing them for just one crime, “either because of our modesty or because we do not want to attack them too much”, even if they could have been accused also for the other one. In other words, instead of a double reason for one punishment, we have the mention of feelings of pity towards the doer of two crimes, who, consequently, is punished just for one and not for two. At this point George uses the same example as Hermogenes, with the only small modification that an imperator is substituted for the generic ‘some men’, but the suggested introduction is absolutely inconsistent with the introductory comments: “if the imperator had been punished for destroying the city, he wouldn’t have done the second crime. Because, however, he did, now he deserves to be punished”. Why mentioning here the feelings of pity? Apparently the second crime is due to the inaccuracy of the judges who did not punish the impera­ tor for the first crime. Moreover, it is indeed surprising, that with about the same words George expresses the same feelings of pity, much more appropriately to my mind, when he is commenting on the behaviour of the accuser in the introductions ab exuperatione (p. 21). In this case – Hermogenes said (104, 1 ff. Rabe) – when we accuse someone of a crime, we say that we could have accused him even of a worse one. George takes from Hermogenes the definition and adapts to the situation a very old school example: “if you accuse somebody of burglary, but you could have accused him also of sacrilege.”10 It is at this point that he adds his comments that we could accuse somebody of a worse crime, but we do not accuse him “either because 10

Already used by Aristotle (Rhet. 1374 a 4 “to have stolen something but not to have committed a sacrilege”) as example of a situation in which the person admits that he has done an action but denies that he has done the crime mentioned by the accuser, this example was often used to illustrate the definitio in the context of the theory of the στάσεις: cf. L. Calboli Montefusco, La dottrina degli “status” nella retorica greca e romana, Hildesheim, 1986, 83, n. 57.

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we do not want to or because it is enough for the state or because we feel merciful towards him” (quod nolimus, aut quod rei publicae sufficiat, aut etiam sui gratia). Obviously, the comment is much more relevant here and we might wonder why George uses it twice. Another very complicated passage of this chapter is George’s long discussion of the insinuatio.11 Here his patchwork is particularly rich, but quite confusing. The reason is that George not only tries to interweave doctrines that in Cicero’s De Inventione and in the Rhetorica ad Herennium are treated differently. He also uses Quintilian’s Institutio Oratoria with the greatest liberty, above all moving from their original context the quotations of Cicero’s speeches, in order to make them fit his own context. To take just one example: the famous case of Cicero’s Pro Ligario. I say ‘famous’, because George’s lively, if not even offensive, criticism to Quintilian’s interpretation of this oration’s introduction was object of disagreement among the Renaissance scholars.12 Quintilian (Inst. 4.1.37 ff.) quotes the introduction of the Pro Ligario when he discusses the opportunity of making the listener attentive to capture his goodwill. He uses it to counter the advice, even if given by magni auctores, that making the listeners attentive and receptive is not always useful. On the contrary – he says – when our adversary has already spoken and perhaps persuaded the hearers, we need to make them change their mind and this can only happen if we call their attention to what we are going to say in our speech. We need, therefore, to minimize or amplify or despise something to reduce the attention that the judges pay to the opponent. According to Quintilian it is exactly what Cicero did in his defense of Ligarius. What was Cicero’s point using an ironia – Quintilian asks – “except to make Caesar pay less attention to the case, thinking it was nothing new?” George moves this quotation to his discussion of the insinuatio (p. 25 f.) and considers this exordium as an example of how one can escape if the accusation is so 11

12

As we read in Cicero’s De inventione (1.20) and in the Rhetorica ad Herennium (1.6) the insi­ nuatio was one of the two possible kinds of introductions. As in his sources, George considers it alternative to the principium and following Cicero he defines it as the oratio, quae per dis­ simulationem animum auditoris subiens parat ad audiendum (p. 10). As to its use, George says that it was necessary when the case is shameful in itself or when it seems to be shameful to the listener already persuaded by the adversary (cum aut res per se turpis est aut auditori persuaso turpis videtur … si adversarius dixerit ut fidem eum fecisse credibile est) or when the listener is tired because of the long speech of those who have spoken first (aut quum defessus est auditor eos audiendo, qui ante dixerint). Apart from the particular definition of the second situation (we never find that the shamefulness of the deed depends upon the fact that the adversary has already persuaded the judge), we could say that here George has in mind the tria tempora mentioned in the Rhetorica ad Herennium for the need of the insinuatio rather than the tres causae that in Cicero’s De Inventione make the listener hostile and consequently the genus causae admirabile. About the differences between the two doctrines, cf. L. Calboli Montefusco, Exordium Narratio Epilogus, 11 ff. Cf. J. Monfasani, George of Trebizond. A Biography, 291 f.; J. Monfasani, Collectanea Trape­ zuntiana. Texts, Documents, and Bibliographies of George of Trebizond, Binghamton, New York, 1984, 367 f.; 390 f. A detailed presentation of this ‘querelle’ is in the discussion of this introduction made by Cl. Loutsch, L’exorde dans les discours de Cicéron, Bruxelles, 1994, 393 ff.

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evident that he can neither deny it nor justify it.13 In this case – he suggests – the only remedy is to reproach the adversary for some equal or even worse wrong.14 According to him this introduction perfectly suits this situation. Cicero, in a first apostrophe to Caesar, had actually mentioned the charge made by Tubero, the prosecutor, against his cliens Ligarius of a ‘new and never heard before crimen”, namely the fact that Ligarius had been in Africa; this could not be denied and, on the other hand, it had already been admitted by Pansa himself, the other defender. At this point Cicero addressed the prosecutor himself, Tubero, reminding him that he too, and even his father, had been in Africa, i.e. that they were guilty of the same crimen. Starting from these premises George denies Quintilian’s interpretation saying that it is absolutely impossible to consider this introduction as an ironia, because it was a vera confessio criminis. Indeed, the admission of the guilt – he explains – was not only Cicero’s strategy for a counter accusation, but also the necessary step to use a deprecatio15 as mechanism of defense. George, who already here forcefully explains the reasons of his preferred interpretation of this passage (p. 28 nullus, enim, non mente captus dubitabit, criminando adversarios ex simplici confessione hoc in principio benevolentiam acquiri), never changed his mind and despite the violent ‘querelle’ with his detractors he again put forward the same interpretation in his commentary of Cicero’s Pro Ligario, which he published a few years later.16 At this point George is almost at the end of his detailed study of the exordium. Before concluding, however, he wants to take into account two more topics, the 13

14 15

16

What leaves us astonished, however, is the fact that George, though labeling later this introduction as insinuatio (cf. Loutsch, L’exorde dans les discours de Cicéron, 405, n. 97), now seems to be still uncertain. Indeed, he quotes it a first time as the exception to the rules: when the case is shameful in itself (res per se turpis), i.e. when the crime cannot be denied – he says – we need to use the insinuatio, unless we are able to win over the listeners accusing our adversaries of something wrong manifestly done by them, as Cicero did in the speech Pro Ligario (p. 23 si igitur rei turpitudo difficile negari potest, ad insinuationem confugiendum est, nisi quid turpe ac manifestum ab adversariis commissum, maxime nuper nacti erimus, quare ipsos crimi­ nando, benevolos auditores facere possumus, ut Cicero Pro Ligario). Despite this statement, George quotes again the introduction of the Pro Ligario within his discussion of the insinuatio. This time the quotation belongs to the section devoted to explain how to manage a situation that requires the use of the insinuatio because the case is not shameful in itself, but it seems to be so to the already persuaded hearer (p. 24 ff.). If in the first case George had been happy just to mention Cicero’s skill, now the long quotation of Cicero’s text is needed to prove Quintilian’s mistake. Again, however, the way used to introduce this case (Quod si tota causa ab adversario aperta est, ut nullo modo negari possit …) could let appear reproaching the adversary of an equal or worse wrong as a strategy alternative to the use of the insinuatio. In his later commentary to this speech George actually considers this introduction as a principium in which insinu­ ationis occultius latent vires (p. 106). This ἀντικατηγορία will be one of the corner stones of Cicero’s argumentation: cf. Cl. Loutsch, L’exorde dans les discours de Cicéron, 392. In the Hermagorean version of the theory of the στάσεις the deprecatio was the last part of the qualitas iuridicialis adsumptiva: cf. L. Calboli Montefusco, La dottrina degli “status”, 137 ff. Also Grillius (p. 73 sg. Jakobi) quotes the speech Pro Ligario as an example of the use of a deprecatio. George’s De artificio Ciceronis orationis pro Q. Ligario was dedicated to Vittorino da Feltre: cf. J. Monfasani, Collectanea Trapezuntiana, 463 f.

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first, drawn from Hermogenes, is the analysis of the different parts of the exordium, the second, drawn from the Latin handbooks, is the list of the faulty introductions. In both occasions he again manipulates the sources with additions, changes and comments. The results of this autonomy are again intriguing and are indications of George’s attempt to create the handbook that in his mind, because of his completeness, should replace Quintilian’s Institutio Oratoria. Despite all his efforts, however, we know that he did not achieve his goal. After a brief and temporary success, his Rhetoricorum libri quinque were consigned to oblivion. At least today we should make up for this mistake. BIBLIOGRAPHY Calboli Montefusco, L., La dottrina degli “status” nella retorica greca e romana, Hildesheim, 1986 Calboli Montefusco, L., Exordium Narratio Epilogus, Studi sulla teoria retorica greca e romana delle parti del discorso, Bologna, 1988 Calboli Montefusco, L., “Cicerone, De oratore: la doppia funzione dell’ ethos dell’oratore”, Rhetorica 10, 1992, 245–259 Chiron, P., “Hermogène: 1913–2009”, Lustrum 53, 2011, 151–232 Conley, Th., Rhetoric in the European Tradition, Chicago and London, 1990 Cox, V., “Rhetoric and Humanism in Quattrocento Venice”, Renaissance Quarterly 56, 2003, 652– 694 Kennedy, G., Classical Rhetoric and Its Christian and Secular Tradition from Ancient to Modern Times, London, 1980 Kennedy, G., Invention and Method. Two Rhetorical Treatises from the Hermogenic Corpus, Translated with Introductions and Notes by G. A. Kennedy, Atlanta, 2005 Loutsch, Cl., L’exorde dans les discours de Cicéron, Bruxelles, 1994 Mack, P., A History of Renaissance Rhetoric 1380–1620, Oxford, 2011 Monfasani, J., George of Trebizond. A Biography and a Study of His Rhetoric and Logic, Leiden, 1976 Monfasani, J., Collectanea Trapezuntiana. Texts, Documents, and Bibliographies of George of Trebizond, Binghamton, New York, 1984 Monfasani, J., “Episodes of Anti-Quintilianism in the Italian Renaissance: Quarrels on the Orator as a Vir Bonus and Rhetoric as Scientia Bene Dicendi”, Rhetorica 10, 1992, 119–138 Patillon, M., Hermogène. L’art rhétorique. Exercices préparatoires, États de cause, Invention, Catégories stylistiques, Méthode de l’habilité, Paris, 1997 Rabe, H., Hermogenis Opera, edidit H. Rabe, Teubner, Stuttgart, 1969 Trapezuntius, Georgius, Rhetoricorum libri quinque: Deitz, L., Georgius Trapezuntius, Rhetoricorum libri quinque, Herausgegeben und eingeleitet von Luc Deitz, Hildesheim-Zürich-New York, 2006 Trapezuntius, Georgius, De artificio Ciceronianae orationis Pro Ligario ad Victorinum Feltrensem: Q. Asconii Paediani, In orationes M. Tullii Ciceronis Enarrationes … cum Georgii Trapezuntii in eiusdem Ciceronis orationem pro Q. Ligario docta ac pereleganti Interpretatione Adnotationibusque ac Commentariis, Collegii Societatis Jesu Monachij, Lutetiae sub Scuto Basiliensis 1606, 98–151

PART III: PHILOSOPHY

20 METAPHYSICS, POLITICS AND POETIC LANGUAGE IN ANAXIMANDER Thanassis Samaras Abstract Anaximander’s apeiron is the first metaphysical concept in the history of Western thought that cannot be explained in terms of another, more basic notion. Moreover, it guarantees both the cosmological and the social order of the world. The prevailing interpretation of Anaximander as a philosopher whose cosmological doctrines reflect his political beliefs is correct, but the assumption that he holds democratic views is not: what Anaximander argues for is not equal political rights for all free native male Milesians, but the more limited notion of the sharing of power between a landed aristocracy and the ‘middling’ elements of Milesian society. INTRODUCTION Anaximander is credited, among other things, with the production of the first Greek map and the first philosophical book in prose. These two achievements would probably be sufficient to secure for him a privileged position in the history of Western culture, but Anaximander’s contribution goes further. By introducing the concept of apeiron, he becomes the first philosopher to use a concept that cannot be explained in terms of another, more basic notion. He thus initiates a tradition to which belong entities like Plato’s Form of the Good, Plotinus’ One, Spinoza’s Deus sive Natura and Hegel’s Geist. In this paper I concentrate on the famous fragment that Simplicius (DK12A9) has preserved in order to illuminate certain aspects of Anaximander’s metaphysical and political thinking. The connection between Anaximander’s cosmological speculation and his political terminology has long been recognized, and his political views have been related to the novel concept of the polis and new forms of egalitarianism that emerge in the sixth century BC.1 I argue that the language of the fragment allows a further possibility, that Anaximander is not just voicing ideas belong1

Some of the most prominent examples are: G. Vlastos, Equality and Justice in Early Greek Cosmologies, in: CPh 42, 1947, 156–78, J. P. Vernant, The Origins of Greek Thought, Translation of Les origines de la pensée grecque, Ithaca 1982 and Myth and Thought among the Greeks, Translation of Myth et pensée chez les greques, London 1983, G. Naddaf, On the Origins of Anaximander’s Cosmological Model, in: JHI 59, 1998, 1–28 and M. M. Sassi, Anassimandro et la scrittura della ‘legge’ cosmica, in: M. M. Sassi (ed.), La construzione del discorso filosofico nell’età dei Presocratici, Piza 2006. The more general point that in early Greek philosophy ideas about the cosmos reflect social and political developments is made by Vlastos,

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ing to the aforementioned framework, but explicitly, and one may say consciously, puts forward the point of view of one social group as opposed to that of another, without refraining from a thinly veiled threat of force. Identifying the social group that he supports and the one that he opposes is made difficult by our lack of information about the social and political situation in Miletus in the first half of the sixth century BC. But certain plausible assumptions can be made on the basis of the extant evidence for the Greek world in general, and Ionia in particular, during that period. There is one reason to concentrate on this fragment in particular: part of it comes from Anaximander’s book, as demonstrated by the critical expression ‘in rather poetical terms.’2 There is general consensus among scholars that the part of the fragment from ‘according to necessity’ to ‘order of time’ is a quotation from Anaximander’s book, or at least that the crucial terms appear in the original text. This is important, because virtually all our information about Anaximander is derived from later sources. According to Simplicius,3 Anaximander, the son of Praxiades, was the student and successor of Thales. He claimed that the apeiron was the principle (archēn) and element (stoicheion) of existing things (tōn ontōn), and he was the first to give this name to the principle. He claims that this principle is neither water nor any other of the so-called elements, but some other apeiron nature. Everything that exists in the heavens and in all the worlds that exist in them came from it. The existing things (tois ousi) are generated from the same things into which their destruction takes place according to necessity (kata to chreōn), because they pay penalty and they offer retribution (didonai … dikēn kai tisin) to each other for their injustice (adikias), in accordance with the order of time (kata tēn tou chronou taxin), as he says about them in rather poetical terms.4 (Simplicius, Commentary on Aristotle’s Physics 24.13–21; DK12A9)

In the first part of this paper I examine some fundamental aspects of apeiron. In the second part, I offer an interpretation of Anaximander’s political thinking and its relationship to apeiron, as they are expressed in this fragment. I The most likely etymology of apeiron is that it comes from the privative α- and peirar/peras, which means ‘limit’ or ‘boundary’.5 The primary meaning of the term

2 3 4 5

156–78 and G. E. R. Lloyd, Magic, Reason and Experience: Studies in the Origins and Development of Greek Science, Cambridge 1979, 248. According to the doxographic tradition the book’s title was On Nature (Peri Physeōs), but whether the philosopher himself provided this title is uncertain. Simplicius uses as his source Theophrastus, who probably had access to Anaximander’s original text (although see the reservations of G. S. Kirk, J. E. Raven and M. Schofield, The Presocratic Philosophers, 2nd ed., Cambridge 1983, 106). All translations of Greek texts in this paper are my own. C. H. Kahn, Anaximander and the Origins of Greek Cosmology, New York 1960, 232, traces the etymology of apeiron further back to the Indo-European root *per­. For this etymology see Chantraine, Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque, Paris 1968, Vol. 1, 871.

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is therefore spatial, designating something whose whole length cannot be traversed or whose limit cannot be reached. After tracing the etymological history of the word, Kahn suggests that ‘the apeiron of Anaximander is therefore primarily a huge, inexhaustible mass, stretching away endlessly in each direction … [it] is in fact what we would call infinite space … But this space is not as yet thought of in abstraction from the material which fills it. Place and body are here combined in a single idea.’6 Other philosophically important meanings of apeiron, such as ‘temporally unlimited’ and ‘qualitatively indefinite,’ follow the spatial one. In posing apeiron as something material that surrounds the world, Anaximander still operates within the parameters of the Ionian cosmological tradition. His notion of apeiron, however, includes this material nature, but also transcends it in that it is archē. The basic meaning of archē is of course temporal, signifying a starting point in time, but archē can be spatial, too. The corresponding verb, archein, means ‘to rule,’ but it can mean to initiate an action as well. A commanding general, for example, may both lead his troops from the frontline and begin a battle. It is clear that for historical reasons Anaximander did not, and could not, use archē in the fully fledged Aristotelian sense of ‘first principle.’ But he can plausibly be interpreted as taking some steps down this road: apeiron is more than simply matter; it is none of the ‘so-called’ elements; and it is not a compound of opposites either.7 Simplicius’ fragment explicitly states that apeiron brings the things that exist, ta onta, into existence. Within the framework of naturalistic Ionian thinking, this must be taken as analogous to a plant or animal creating its offspring, but we do not have the evidence that would allow us to say more specifically how Anaximander views this process. Actually, it is a reasonable assumption that he did not work out in any detail the physical (what is the mechanics of this generation) and the metaphysical (what is the logical and ontological relationship between apeiron and the things that it gives birth to) issues involved in his view. Making this assumption, Kahn claims that [Anaximander] did see that the starting point was decisive in any explanation of the universe, and he chose an archē which, by its very nature, would be capable of generating the world. He accepted as an unquestioned fact that one thing could arise out of another, as day arises out of night and spring out of winter and he expressed this fact in the most significant way he or any man of his time could imagine, by analogy with the generation of living things.8

Simplicius’ fragment explicitly affirms that existing things are generated by apeiron and are destructed into it. It also states that this happens ‘according to necessity, because they pay penalty and they offer retribution to each other for their injustice, 6 7

8

Kahn, 233. Aristotle clearly thinks of apeiron as infinite undifferentiated body in the Physics 204b22–205a8. Despite Aristotle’s hoi d’ ek tou henos enousas tas enantiotētas ekkrinesthai, hosper Anaximan­ dros phēsi (Phys. 187a20–21). Aristotle is wrong about the opposites being present in the apei­ ron and ekkrinesthai could be a distortion of apokrinesthai. See Kirk, Raven and Schofield, 130, Kahn, 236 and H. B. Gottschalk, Anaximander’s ‘Apeiron,’ in: Phronesis 10, 1965, 37–53, 46–47. Kahn, 237.

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in accordance with the order of time.’ Anaximander therefore conceives of a cosmic order characterized by the equilibrium of opposites over time. But is the apeiron directly responsible for this order and does it generate it? Although one may be tempted to answer in the affirmative (it is plausible to assume that if apeiron gives birth to the world, it will also produce its order), the connection is not explicit in the text. It is possible to read the fragment as attributing to apeiron merely a spatial character. In other words, apeiron could materially generate a world whose cosmic order exists independently of it.9 But where would this order come from, if not from apeiron? Another concept, equally if not more fundamental than apeiron would be needed to explain it, and this would create an insurmountable problem: it would limit apeiron, which is by definition unlimited. In addition, the assumption that apeiron is responsible for the structure of reality is strongly supported by a significant passage in Aristotle’s Physics: … [apeiron] is both ungenerated (agenēton) and indestructible (aphtharton) … it has no beginning (archē) … but it seems to be the beginning of the other things, and it envelops (periechein) all things and governs (kybernan) them all, as say those who do not pose other causes (aitias) such as mind or friendship (philian) beyond the apeiron; and this is the divine (theion); because it is immortal (athanaton) and indestructible (anōlethron), as Anaximander says and most of the natural philosophers.10

Aristotle is not the most reliable historian of philosophy, but the views that this passage attributes to Anaximander are consistent with what we know of him from other sources. Moreover, the critical terms, periechein and kybernan, are in use in Presocratic philosophy and the whole phrase in which they occur shows a departure from Aristotle’s style: it sounds both poetic and archaic.11 Moreover, it is well established that the Milesian natural philosophers abolished the distinction between what comes first chronologically and what controls the order of the universe. Thus these two functions, that were attributed to primeval beings and to Zeus respectively in the mythical tradition, are now combined in one entity, whether Thales’ water, Anaximander’s apeiron, or Anaximenes’ air.12 If Aristotle is right, apeiron does not only generate the world, but also determines its order. But how does it do this? And does it consciously create or continuously sustain the order of the universe? Apeiron is a neuter noun and definitely not a person: thus it may be difficult to attribute agency to it. It must be there in order for things to come into existence and be destroyed by returning into it, but this does not logically entail that it consciously generates them. Based on the fact that the original meaning of kybernan is to steer a vessel, and more emphatically on the assertion that apeiron is divine, Kirk, Raven and Schofield argue that its governing function must be interpreted as ‘purposeful action,’13 but apeiron’s lack of personhood raises questions over this. If, however, 9 10 11 12 13

The fragment speaks of course of many worlds, but it is the cosmic and political order of the world we live in that we are concerned about. Arist. Phys. 203b7–15. See Kirk, Raven and Schofield, 115 n. 1. Vernant, Myth and Thought, 196–97. Kirk, Raven and Schofield, 116.

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we interpret kybernan to entail that apeiron both generates the world and provides it with a cosmic order based on the long-term equilibrium of opposites, we have a position that is compatible with it either being or not being a conscious agent: apei­ ron could produce this order mechanically, without a thought process, or consciously.14 Other possibilities not excluded, this is the most probable way to take kybernan. As for the question whether apeiron actively sustains the structure of reality, neither Simplicius’ fragment nor any other Anaximander excerpt in Diels-Kranz provides an answer. The most we can say is that it must be there for things to return to it to be destructed and thus it acts as a substratum. But, as in the case of many of our questions about apeiron, it is unclear whether Anaximander would have the conceptual or linguistic resources to pose this question or if it would even be meaningful to him. We have already noted how apeiron goes some way towards Aristotle’s notion of archē as ‘first principle’ by transcending the meaning of ‘spatially unlimited’, but it does so in another notable way, too. Whereas in the sixth century BC the word archē denotes a beginning, apeiron does not have a beginning in time. According to the passage from the Physics cited above, it is ‘ungenerated’ and ‘indestructible’. Seligman comments on this point that ‘with the apeiron we have reached a beginning which itself has not begun, generating all things but itself ungenerated. In other words, the very conception of apeiron implies that it is primary and underived. It thus anticipates an essential characteristic of archē = principle in the later Aristotelian sense … (Phys. 188a25).’15 It is the manner in which Anaximander moves beyond the limitations of the term archē as it is used in his own time that bestows on apeiron its particular significance in the history of Western thought, as the first concept which is indispensable for our explanation of reality but which cannot itself be explained on the basis of another, more fundamental concept.16 Any idea of this sort can best (and perhaps only) be expressed negatively, in terms of what it is not. The positive attribution of any specific attribute to it would be a limitation, something that apeiron by definition does not accept. It is in this sense that apeiron stands in the beginning of the tradition of ultimate metaphysical notions noted in the first paragraph and that its character as ‘qualitatively indefinite’ and as divine can be properly understood.

14 15 16

Despite accepting the likelihood of apeiron’s conscious agency, Kirk, Raven and Schofield, 115, conclude that the most likely way that it exercises control is ‘by having initiated the world in such a way as to provide a continuing rule or law of change.’ P. Seligman, The Apeiron of Anaximander: A Study in the Origin and Function of Metaphysical Ideas, Westport 1962, 57. Apeiron can therefore be regarded as one forerunner of the theological notion of the ungenerated God, and more generally of apophatic theology, the theology that describes God only in terms of what he is not.

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II In an influential interpretation of Anaximander, Jean-Paul Vernant argues that the Milesian’s cosmological and political thought is informed by the concept of isono­ mia, a crucial term in the sixth century BC, denoting the principle of the political equality of the citizens of the Greek city.17 He claims that this notion can be traced in Anaximander’s thought in general and in the concept of the balance of the opposites in DK12A9 in particular. Vernant sees isonomia reflected in Anaximander’s thesis that the earth is in the middle of the universe and stays there because it is ‘not under the domination of anything’ (hypo mēdenos kratoumenē);18 this means, he writes, that it is ‘central and consequently balanced at an equal distance from all things.’19 He notices the political import of the participle coming from the same root as kratos, a term that primarily means ‘political power,’ and connects isonomia with the idea of the fundamental reorganization of civic space which takes place as we move from the hierarchical archaic polis to the egalitarian classical one. In the latter city, the middle (meson) becomes the spatiopolitical point of reference, with all citizens being metaphorically equidistant from it. This idea of space mirrors a new political consciousness based on the equality of all citizens and therefore different from the hierarchical one of the old aristocratic polis. Another substantial piece of evidence for Vernant’s interpretation is Alcmaeon’s fragment 4, which identifies health with isonomia tōn dynameōn and disease with the domination of one of these dynameis, a condition described as monarchy. The similarity between the two fragments is indeed striking: both Anaximander and Alcmaeon describe phenomena that we would today call ‘scientific’ (health, the order of the cosmos) in terms of a balance or equality among conflicting elements, the domination of any one of which would lead to a most unsatisfactory state of affairs (disease, disorder in the universe). Vernant makes the bold claim that ‘the political concept of isonomia in Alcmaeon was an expression of that same balance between opposing physical forces upon which, according to Anaximander, the order of the universe depended.’20 Furthermore, Vernant contrasts this principle of isonomia with a principle of sovereignty that he finds embedded in the antecedent epic poetry. The most obvious—and relevant—example of the latter principle is Hesiod’s Zeus, who guarantees both the cosmic and the social order. Zeus’ rule is ‘monarchic’, expressing a concept of sovereignty that goes all the way back to the kings of the Mycenaean era—notwithstanding Hesiod’s distance in time from this civilization. In Anaximander’s view of the world, on the other hand, monarchy is replaced by isonomia, the equality of the opposites. Vernant takes this change to reflect the novel conceptualization of space in the Greek polis from the beginning of the sixth century BC onwards. This conceptualization is, in turn, the result of new social and political relations. 17 18 19 20

Vernant, Origins, 119–29 and Myth and Thought, 190–223. Hippol. Ref. 1, 6, 3; DK12A11. Vernant, Myth and Thought, 207. Vernant, Myth and Thought, 220.

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In developing the concept of isonomia as critical to our understanding of Anaximander’s cosmological model, Vernant builds upon a foundation laid in the nineteen forties by Gregory Vlastos and George Thomson, both of whom exercised considerable influence on his thought. Although he does not mention isonomia except in a note,21 Vlastos sees the Anaximandrian picture of the universe, based on the concept of a ‘self-regulative equilibrium,’22 as the result of a political thought process: ‘[g]iven a society of equals, it was assumed, justice was sure to follow, for none would have the power to dominate the rest.’23 In a similar vein, Thomson sees Anaximander as part of an early democratic movement which involves Solon as well: ‘[t]he first [of three major trends in democratic thought], represented by Anaximander at Miletos and Solon at Athens, consists of the old aristocratic tradition as modified and developed by that section of the aristocracy which had thrown its lot with the new merchant class.’24 This interpretation is not unreasonable, but it overhits the mark, by turning Anaximander into a democrat (or at the very least a proto-democrat), something that he could not possibly be. Central elements of this train of thought are undoubtedly right: the assertion that Anaximander’s cosmological model reflects political ideas and that he plays a protagonistic role in the shift from myth to reason are now the orthodox view and the same is true of the thesis that Greek rationality is a product of the city-state.25 Nevertheless, the position that isonomia plays a critical part in his thought is untenable. The primary meaning of the term isonomia is ‘equality before the law.’ The transition from this meaning to ‘political equality’ or ‘equality of political rights’ is a conspicuously easy one. Herodotus uses isonomia to designate ‘popular rule’ and Plato isonomikou as a synonym for demokratikou.26 The problem with making isonomia central to Anaximander’s thought, however, is that the term is not attested in the fragments and we cannot be sure that he even knew it. Vernant clearly employs the term not narrowly as designating merely equality before the law, but more generally as denoting the democratic concept of citizen equality. Even with this qualification, however, there are two major objections that can be raised to his approach. The first is that applying the concept to Anaximander is clearly anachronistic. Following the analysis of Pierre Levêque’s and Pierre Vidal-Naquet’s Clisthène l’Athénien,27 Vernant finds Cleisthenes utilizing in his reorganization of civic space the same principle of isonomia that he attributes to Anaximander.28 How21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

Vlastos, 173 n. 155 Vlastos, 173. Vlastos, 175. Thomson, 235. Vernant, Origins, P. Vidal-Naquet, La Raison greque et la cité, in: Raison Présente 2, 1967, 51–61 and Vlastos, 156–78. Herod. 3.80, Pl. Rep. 561e1. For an analysis of the relationship between the term isonomia and democratic theory see M. H. Hansen, The Athenian Democracy in the Age of Demosthenes: Structure, Principles and Ideology, Translated by J. A. Cook, Norman 1999, 81–85. P. Levêque and P. Vidal-Naquet, Clisthène l’Athénien, Paris 1964. Vernant, Myth and Thought, 212–34.

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ever, about half a century separates Cleisthenes’ legislation from Anaximander’s book, and Alcmaeon’s fragment, another crucial text for Vernant, also belongs to the end of the sixth century BC as well as to a geographical area far remote from Ionia. Sassi puts this point well: But the problems for this reading are born from the moment that a simple judgment about the political reality of Athens at the end of the sixth century ends up being used as the key for the interpretation of a cosmological model elaborated in Miletus several decades earlier … By proceeding with this operation, Vernant tends de facto to superimpose the history of the idea of isonomia on the history of the polis itself, leaving in the shadows the great heterogeneity in time and space that characterize the different regimes in the various Greek cities.29

Vernant’s thesis that Anaximander’s cosmological model depends on a democratic viewpoint expressed in the concept of isonomia cannot, on the basis of the available evidence, be sustained. Furthermore, isonomia refers to equality among citizens, whereas the kind of equality or balance that Anaximander envisages in DK12A9 is equality or balance between major natural phenomena like day and night or the seasons. This entails that the analogy cannot be with individual citizens: it would violate all sense of proportion to argue that the ‘order of time’ is violated because citizen a dominates citizen b, by not letting him assume power when his turn arises. When he talks about one being trying to eternally dominate another, and claims that this constitutes injustice in a political context, Anaximander can only be thinking of major forces, which in a political context will be social groups. Importantly, the political ideal of the passage is not equality in general, but equality over time, balance, isor­ ropia rather than isonomia; and balance applies, of course, much better to groups than to individual citizens. There is an additional problem in taking the equality implied in the fragment as applying to citizens in the sense required by Vernant’s argument. Isonomia denotes equality among citizens. As the political structure of the archaic city with its indisputable aristocratic control breaks down, however, the primary political matter in the Greek word becomes not the equality of rights among citizens, but who will be recognized as a citizen to start with; and the answer to the last question ultimately depends on the balance of power between one group trying to hold on to power and maintain the privileges of citizenship for its members (normally, a traditional aristocracy) and another one asking for citizenship for its own members—essentially, for their inclusion in the polis—and a sharing of political authority. The fact that this latter group exists in Miletus in the mid-sixth century BC and has developed its own political identity is demonstrated by the verse of Phocylides, a contemporary and compatriot of Anaximander, which is preserved by Aristotle: Many things are excellent in the middle; I want to be a man of the middle in my city.30

Given this political reality, it is much more likely that Anaximander is principally concerned with the balance of power between conflicting social groups, the para29 30

M. M. Sassi, Ordre Cosmique et Isonomia, in: Philant 7, 2007, 189–218, 195. Arist. Pol. 1295b34.

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mount political issue of his time, than merely with the political equality of citizens, especially since who is a citizen and who is not depends on the resolution of this conflict.31 Vlastos’s interpretation encounters a similar problem: thinking of Anaximander’s justice as applying to a ‘society of equals,’ Vlastos finds himself, implausibly, obliged to restrict Anaximander’s political demands to ‘rotation of office,’ which ‘applies to individual citizens rather than to classes or governing bodies.’32 But how likely is it that the cosmic order will be disturbed if the rotation in office of individual citizens is not observed? The asymmetry between individual citizens and the cosmic forces that are Anaximander’s opposites is simply enormous. Remarkably, Vlastos refers to ‘rotation in office’ as a result of addressing a point put to him in correspondence by Kurt Von Fritz, who rightly argues that the corresponding feature of cosmic equality in Anaximander must be ‘the idea of balance of power between classes or governing bodies.’33 If we take Anaximander’s opposites to be social groups or classes in this sense, we avoid both the patent anachronism involved in Vernant’s position and the pitfall of reducing Anaximander’s cosmic justice to the demand for something as trivial as the rotation in office of individual citizens. In the remainder of this paper we will examine the admittedly flimsy evidence on the social and political conditions in Miletus in the middle of the sixth century BC and propose an interpretation of Anaximander’s most famous fragment that is congruent with it. Finally, we will look at the role that apeiron plays in Anaximander’s political scheme. The difficulty in deciphering Anaximander’s opposites is not only due to the limited, fragmented and uncertain nature of the literary sources referring to his work. It is equally due to the frustratingly sketchy information that we have about the social and political situation in sixth century BC Miletus. If we accept Apollodorus’ information that Anaximander was sixty-four in 547/6 BC and died shortly afterwards34 (and we have no evidence to the contrary on this issue), it is reasonable to assume that his book was written in the middle years of the century. What was Miletus like at that time and how can this help us identify the group that commits injustice by monopolizing power and its opponent? Two facts that are fairly established are that Miletus was ruled by the tyrant Thrasybulus in the late seventh century BC and that it was a city with a developed commercial economy, possibly the most advanced city in the Greek world in this respect. There are three major sources for the next sixty years, roughly covering Anaximander’s lifetime. They are all brief and incomplete, but they agree on one point: there was protracted and probably violent civil war, stasis, at Miletus. According to Herodotus, after two generations of civil war the Milesians called the Parians in as arbitrators. The latter, after inspecting the country and seeing many 31 32 33 34

To say this is not to dispute that an egalitarian spirit permeates Ionian philosophy in contrast to the hierarchical model of the archaic polis reflected in epic poetry. But the exact form that this egalitarianism takes is important. Vlastos, 175 n. 166. As mentioned in Vlastos, 175 n. 166 D.L. 2.2; DK12A1.

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estates ruined and desolate, gave the power to the few whose farms were well maintained.35 Plutarch writes that at some point in time two parties controlled the city, the ‘rich’ (ploutis) and the ‘hand-makers’ (cheiromacha).36 The struggle ended with the victory of the rich, whom Plutarch now calls dynatoi. There is a third passage, by Athenaios, referring to violent civil war in Miletus, and to successive victories of the demos and the rich,37 but Gorman has convincingly argued that it is historically unreliable and that the stasis that it describes, even if the account is genuine, would have happened close to the Ionian Revolt, that is several decades after Anaximander’s death.38 What can be made of this information and how can Anaximander’s political language be inserted into this framework? One critical question that we have no way of answering is that of the alienability of land. If land was alienable at Miletus, this would allow non-aristocratic individuals who amassed wealth through trade, manufacture, or successful farming to enter the ranks of the landowners and to have a particularly strong claim to power, despite their lack of noble birth. The commercial development of Miletus may suggest that land was alienable, and we know that this was the case in some archaic Greek cities. Nevertheless, the case of Athens, in which land remained almost universally inalienable until the late fifth century BC, despite the developed commercial economy of the city, means that we ought to be extremely cautious on this point.39 Plutarch’s passage is intriguing. It agrees with Herodotus that political supremacy was ultimately achieved by the rich, the ploutis or dynatoi, but a lot depends on the exact meaning of cheiromacha. Cheiromacha could mean those who work with their hands or those who fight with their hands. Given aristocratic attitudes towards manual labor in the Greek world, it looks very plausible that cheiromacha was used pejoratively by the leisured elite to describe those whose wealth comes from manual occupations, including trade. Even if some of those individuals became rich, they would definitely not be welcome to join the ruling elite. I find the possibility of cheiromacha meaning ‘those fighting with their hands,’ which designates the very poor, extremely unlikely. Low born individuals without land or at least moderate wealth would not be able to offer a genuine political challenge to the aristocracy in any archaic Greek city, although they could participate in the struggle by supporting the middling class in the hope of securing at least partial citizen privileges.40 Cheiromacha, then, could semantically include all free non-leisured Milesians, but 35 36

37 38 39

40

Hdt. 5.28–29. Plu. Quaest. Gr. 32.298c–d. The translation ‘hand-makers’ is mentioned as one possibility by V. B. Gorman, Miletus: The Ornament of Ionia, Ann Arbor 2001, 110. Gorman translates chei­ romacha as ‘labor’ (109) and O. Murray, Early Greece, 2nd ed., London 1993, 248, as ‘Manual Workers.’ Ath. 12.523f–524b. Gorman, 102–107. See J. V. A. Fine, Horoi: Studies in Mortgage, Real Security and Land Tenure in Ancient Athens, Hesperia Supplements 9, 1951, M. I. Finley, The Alienability of Land in Ancient Greece: A Point of View, in Eirene 7, 25–32, 27 and G. R. Morrow, Plato’s Cretan City: A Historical Interpretation of the Laws, Princeton 1960, 109–110. Pace G. L. Huxley, The Early Ionians, London 1966, 79–80.

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from a politically relevant point of view it would be the wealthiest merchants and/ or farmers who would be the opposite number of ploutis. Gorman thinks that ‘[t]he translation “Hand-Maker Party” may imply lower- or middle-class merchants and artisans; if so, Miletos was involved in true class welfare.’ ‘Equally,’ she continues, ‘”Hand-Maker” may be a term of disapprobation applied to a faction of prosperous merchants by the landed aristocracy.’41 Both statements are true, with the qualification that non propertied manual workers would have a limited role in the conflict. The aristocracy probably thought of everybody else as socially inferior, but it was the most successful farmers and merchants who posed a political threat. Going back to Herodotus’ story, are the few landowners to whom the Parians entrusted the government of the city members of the aristocracy of birth, or are there some wealthy non aristocrats included in the group? It is impossible to arrive at an irrefutable conclusion on the basis of the text alone, but the reference to a few successful landowners indicates that power was not distributed widely, and thus it is unlikely that the ‘men of the middle’ got what they wanted. Even if a small number of them had become big landowners and were included in the ruling elite, something that the text leaves open but the reference to ‘few’ new rulers makes improbable, they would still have failed, collectively as a class, to achieve their objective of getting a share in political power. There is scholarly disagreement about the date of the Parian mediation. Some authors put it in Anaximander’s lifetime and others before or after it.42 Plutarch’s story is also impossible to nail down chronologically. Whatever the time of these events, however, it appears that for most of Anaximander’s lifetime power in Miletus remained exclusively or almost exclusively in the hands of the landed aristocracy. Since it is the monopolization of power by one party that Anaximander attacks in DK12A9 and since it is the aristocracy who is committed to maintaining its monolithic control of the polis, his point of view cannot be that of the ruling class. It is Phocylides’ ‘men of the middle’ who want a share in power and the concept of balance can only reflect the views of this group. (Despite threats and even occasional massacres, the ‘middling’ class of that period in Greece strives, as a rule, for its inclusion into the ruling body along with the aristocracy, for full citizen rights, and not for the political or physical elimination of the latter). Anaximander’s attack on the permanent domination of one entity, which he declares incompatible with the order of reality, as well as his concept of balance mean therefore that he can be securely identified as a proponent of the ‘middling’ group. His interest in nature and in ‘sciences’ like cartography are indicative of a mentality that is closely related with the interests of the merchants and traders of Miletus: in a developed maritime trading economy, cartographic, meteorological or navigation-related astronomical knowledge can produce the generation of substantial wealth. The transition from poetry to prose, the rational explanation of natural phenomena on the basis of un41 42

Gorman, 110. M. Grant, The Rise of the Greeks, New York 1988, 160 and G. Naddaf, in D. L. Courpie, R. Hahn and G. Naddaf, Anaximander in Context: New Studies in the Origins of Greek Philosophy, Albany 2003, 30, place the Parian arbitration in the middle of the sixth century BC. Gorman, 112–115 dates it much earlier, and L. H. Jeffrey, Archaic Greece, London 1977, later.

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changing laws rather than what G. E. R. Lloyd has called ‘the capricious whim of a monarch or of Zeus’43 are deeply corrosive of the traditional aristocratic world view. Our information about Anaximander may be limited, but every little relevant piece of it indicates an enlightened, ‘middling,’ anti-aristocratic mentality. In conclusion: Anaximander’s political views, and his cosmological speculations which reflect them, belong to a wider nexus of ideas that form part of the progression towards democratic theory, as it will be developed from the end of the sixth century BC onwards. But they cannot be called part of a ‘democratic ideology,’ because such an ideology does not exist in the philosopher’s time, and, moreover, because Anaximander’s concern is the sharing of power between the old landed aristocracy and the rising merchant and farming class. There is not the slightest shred of evidence that Anaximander welcomes the full citizenship of the poorer, non-landowning native males of Miletus, the kind of inclusive citizenship that becomes the trademark of Athenian democracy after Cleisthenes, and isonomia in the sense of equal rights can always be restricted to a small governing body of equals. The political challenge to the aristocracy in the seventh and sixth centuries BC and the emergence of democracy are definitely part of the same historical process, and Vernant is right that a new conceptual universe arose during this process. But to think of everybody who shares in the new ideas as a democrat is an anachronism: Anaximander’s primary issue is the width of the citizen-body and DK12A9 indicates a concern for equality between classes, not for citizen equality including the poor. As for the citizens’ rotation in office, it could be a consequence of the sharing of power between the aristocrats and the ‘men in the middle’, but hardly the primary issue that Vlastos makes it to be. According to the most plausible interpretation, the one which better fits our limited evidence, Anaximander conceives of social and political justice as the result of the sharing of power between two opposing groups who are probably the traditional landowning aristocracy and the ‘men in the middle.’ Far from adopting the style of a supposedly detached treatise, Anaximander threatens with penalties and retribution the group that may alone try to hold on to power, rather than share it—a violation of the ‘order of time’, that is of the structure of reality itself. The temporal transition from one opposite to the other is only a metaphor: the real point is that the ultimate relationship of the two groups over time should be one of equality, that is of shared power. Since the collision between the old aristocracies and a rising ‘middling’ class is a recurring phenomenon in archaic Greece, this interpretation has the advantage of placing Miletus firmly in the context of mid-sixth century BC Greek politics. But who is going to guarantee this new order, this political agreement that the two groups should reach if they are to avoid extracting violent retribution from each other? The answer is: apeiron. Apeiron’s critical function is that it produces and guarantees a world order that includes both the cosmic and the social structure. For the Milesian physiologoi nature and society are part of the same reality and are 43

G. E. R. Lloyd, Polarity and Analogy: Two Types of Argumentation in Early Greek Thought, Cambridge 1966, 213.

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governed by the same laws. There is therefore one political system that is in accordance with these laws and everything else is a violation of them, and will—most rightfully—be punished. The forces that seek the continuous domination of one element, their own group, go against the order of the cosmos. Anaximander’s political use of apeiron is thus another first: by posing a notion that produces and guarantees the order of the universe and by then claiming that the essence of this order is balance between opposites, Anaximander does not only argue for a sharing of power between two classes, but becomes the first Western philosopher to evoke what will later be called natural law in support of a political position. BIBLIOGRAPHY Chantraine, P., Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue grecque, Vol. 1, Paris 1968 Fine, J. V. A., Horoi: Studies in Mortgage, Real Security and Land Tenure in Ancient Athens, in: Hesperia Supplements 9, 1951 Finley, M. I., The Alienability of Land in Ancient Greece: A Point of View, in Eirene 7, 25–32 Gorman, V. B., Miletus: The Ornament of Ionia, Ann Arbor 2001 Gottschalk, H. B., Anaximander’s ‘Apeiron,’ in: Phronesis 10, 1965, 37–53 Grant, M., The Rise of the Greeks, New York 1988 Hansen, M. H., The Athenian Democracy in the Age of Demosthenes: Structure, Principles and Ideology, Translated by J.A. Cook, Norman 1999 Huxley G. L., The Early Ionians, London 1966 Jeffrey L. H., Archaic Greece, London 1977 Kahn C. H., Anaximander and the Origins of Greek Cosmology, New York 1960 Kirk G. S., Raven J. E. and Schofield M., The Presocratic Philosophers, 2nd ed., Cambridge 1983 Levêque P. and Vidal-Naquet P., Clisthène l’Athénien, Paris 1964 Lloyd, G. E. R., Magic, Reason and Experience: Studies in the Origins and Development of Greek Science, Cambridge 1979 Lloyd, G. E. R., Polarity and Analogy: Two Types of Argumentation in Early Greek Thought, Cambridge 1966 Morrow, G. R., Plato’s Cretan City: A Historical Interpretation of the Laws, Princeton 1960. Murray, O., Early Greece, 2nd ed., London 1993 Naddaf G., in D. L. Courpie, R. Hahn and G. Naddaf, Anaximander in Context: New Studies in the Origins of Greek Philosophy, Albany 2003, 9–69 Naddaf G., On the Origins of Anaximander’s Cosmological Model, in: JHI 59, 1998, 1–28 Sassi, M. M., Anassimandro et la scrittura della ‘legge’ cosmica, in: Sassi M. M. (ed.), La construzione del discorso filosofico nell’età dei Presocratici, Piza 2006 Sassi, M. M., Ordre Cosmique et Isonomia, in: Philant 7, 2007, 189–218 Seligman, P., The Apeiron of Anaximander: A Study in the Origin and Function of Metaphysical Ideas, Westport 1962 Vernant, J. P., Myth and Thought among the Greeks, Translation of Myth et pensée chez les greques, London 1983 Vernant, The Origins of Greek Thought, Translation of Les origines de la pensée grecque, Ithaca 1982 Vidal-Naquet P., La Raison greque et la cité, in: Raison Présente 2, 1967, 51–61 Vlastos G., Equality and Justice in Early Greek Cosmologies, in: CPh 42, 1947, 156–78

21 ΤΕΤΑΓΜΕΝΟΝ ΤΕ ΚΑI ΚΕΚΟΣΜΗΜΕΝΟΝ ΠΡΑΓΜΑ: DIE SUCHE NACH ORDNUNG IN PLATONS GORGIAS Ioannis G. Kalogerakos Abstract In the Gorgias Plato discusses the notion of order in close connection with the question of the proper way of living. Bringing order into the artefacts and the body is, according to Socrates, the expert’s main task; bringing order into the soul and the state is the true orator’s, i.e. the good statesman’s, task. For Plato, the domain of order embraces not only the soul and the state, but in fact the entire universe, since ‘geometrical equality’ is the ruling principle of the cosmos. Order in the soul is manifested through justice and temperance; the dominance of the same virtues in the state leads to the establishment of friendship and communication in the community, which then provides the basis for eudaimonia among the individuals as well as within the state. This is the Platonic answer to the question of the kind of life really worth living: this life ought to be governed by inner taxis and cosmos, i.e. in a similar manner as the outer cosmos actually operates too. I 1. Τάξις und κόσμος. Der Ordnungsbegriff zählt zu den Grundbegriffen der platonischen Philosophie und wird meist mit den Termini τάξις und κόσμος ausgedrückt.1 Ihre philosophische Nuancierung reicht bis zu den Vorsokratikern zurück, und zwar bis zu Anaximander und Anaximenes.2 Beide Ausdrücke finden sich in 1

2

Zum Ordnungsbegriff in der griechischen Philosophie übersichtlich: K. Gründer, Ordnung, in: HWPh 6, 1984, 1249–1251; s. auch M. Gatzemeier, Kosmos, in: HWPh 4, 1976, 1167–1173; ferner s. J. Dalfen, Voraussetzungen und Entwicklungen des griechischen Begriffs kosmos, in: PhN 17, 1979, 460–478. Zum Ordnungsbegriff in der Philosophie Platons s. Chr. Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos (taxis/kosmos), in: Chr. Schäfer (Hg.), Platon-Lexikon. Begriffswörterbuch zu Platon und der platonischen Tradition, Darmstadt 2007, 214–219, und M. Hoffmann, Die Entstehung von Ordnung. Zur Bestimmung von Sein, Erkennen und Handeln in der späteren Philosophie Platons, Stuttgart, Leipzig 1996. – Eine gekürzte Fassung dieses Aufsatzes wurde auf dem Kongress „Philosophie und Kosmologie“ (Universität Athen, 13–15 Mai 2013) vorgetragen. (i) Bezugnahme auf Anaximander, Frg. 1 D.-K., in dem die Rede von κατὰ τὴν τοῦ χρόνου τάξιν (‚nach der Ordnung der Zeit‘) ist. Im gesamten Zitat möchte Anaximander ‚eine allgemeine Gesetzmäßigkeit über das Geschehen im entwickelten Kosmos‘ zum Ausdruck bringen und dabei auch ‚die beständige Ordnung des Kosmos‘ darstellen; so Chr. Rapp, Vorsokratiker, München 1997, 45–46. (ii) Auf Anaximenes, Frg. 2 D.-K., in dem die Rede von κόσμος ist, reicht möglicherweise nach Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos, 214, die philosophische Bedeutung von κόσμος im Sinn von ‚Weltordnung‘ oder ‚Welt‘ zurück – für letztere sind zunächst Begriffe

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zahlreichen Passagen der Dialoge. Platon verwendet sie in unterschiedlichem Zusammenhang, meist in Bezug auf den Menschen und sein inneres Leben, auf das gesellschaftliche Leben, auf den Staat, auf den Kosmos und auf die Ideenwelt.3 Τάξις meint bei Platon etwas ‚Zusammengefügtes‘, wobei die Teile dieser gefügten Ordnung Soldaten, Bürger, Körperteile, Seelenteile oder ‚Funktionsteile‘ im Staat wie auch ‚Geschehenseinheiten‘ (wie die Tage im Monat oder die Monate im Jahr) oder einzelne ‚Elemente‘ der Lebensführung sein können.4 Den Begriff κόσμος verwendet Platon oft synonym mit τάξις, ohne einen Unterschied zwischen beiden Begriffen zu machen; darüber hinaus u.a. in Bezug auf den Menschen, den Staat und die Ideen sowie auf den Himmel und die Welt;5 dabei ist die philosophisch interessanteste Verwendungsweise die in der Bedeutung ‚Weltordnung‘.6 Abschließend lässt sich feststellen, dass τάξις für konkrete und sichtbare Zusammenfügungen von Teilen zu stehen scheint, während κόσμος eher unserem abstrakten Begriff der ‚Ordnung‘ entspricht. So könnte κόσμος mit ‚schmuckhafter, vernünftiger und beherrschter Ordnung‘ und τάξις mit ‚regelhafter Zusammenfügung‘ übersetzt werden.7 „Kennzeichen von Ordnung sind für Platon Einheit, Einfachheit, Ganzheit, Unveränderlichkeit, Regularität, Harmonie, Symmetrie oder mathematische Proportion. Ordnung wird mithin als zeitliche Stabilität, als strukturelle Invarianz und als ein Zusammenstimmen unterschiedlicher Teile verstanden.“8 2. Aus der Unordnung zur Ordnung. Ιm Timaios Platons beginnt dieser die Erzählung über die Erschaffung der Welt mit den folgenden Worten: Λέγωμεν δὴ δι’ ἥντινα αἰτίαν γένεσιν καὶ τὸ πᾶν τόδε ὁ συνιστὰς συνέστησεν. ἀγαθὸς ἦν, ἀγαθῷ δὲ οὐδεὶς περὶ οὐδενὸς οὐδέποτε ἐγγίγνεται φθόνος· […] βουληθεὶς γὰρ ὁ θεὸς ἀγαθὰ μὲν πάντα, φλαῦρον δὲ μηδὲν εἶναι κατὰ δύναμιν, οὕτω δὴ πᾶν ὅσον ἦν ὁρατὸν παραλαβὼν οὐχ ἡσυχίαν ἄγον ἀλλὰ κινούμενον πλημμελῶς καὶ ἀτάκτως, εἰς τάξιν αὐτὸ ἤγαγεν ἐκ τῆς ἀταξίας, ἡγησάμενος ἐκεῖνο τούτου πάντως ἄμεινον.9

3 4 5 6 7

8 9

wie τὰ ὄντα oder τὰ πάντα üblich; dazu bemerkt G. Wöhrle, Anaximenes aus Milet. Die Fragmente zu seiner Lehre. Herausgegeben, übersetzt, erläutert und mit einer Einleitung versehen, Stuttgart 1993, 66: „κόσμος im Sinne von Welt(-ordnung) scheint sich erst im frühen fünften Jahrhundert herausgebildet zu haben.“ Eine Klassifizierung der Verwendungsweisen der Ausdrücke τάξις und κόσμος im platonischen Corpus macht Hoffmann, Die Entstehung von Ordnung, 19–22. Übersichtlich s. Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos, 214. Hoffmann, Die Entstehung von Ordnung, 20. Hoffmann, Die Entstehung von Ordnung, 20–21. Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos, 214. Hoffmann, Die Entstehung von Ordnung, 21. Des weiteren argumentiert Hoffmann, 21–22, dafür, dass es legitim scheint, „den Begriff der Ordnung auch in Bezug auf die platonische Theorie des Erkennens zu verwenden, auch wenn er in diesem Kontext nicht explizit belegbar ist.“ Κόσμος meint „nicht bloß Ordnung, sondern ‚schöne‘ Ordnung. Taxis und Kosmos stehen zugleich für ‚gute‘ Ordnung. Das Sein und seine Ordnung, sie sind gut.“ So H. Ottmann, Geschichte des politischen Denkens. Von den Anfängen bei den Griechen bis auf unsere Zeit, Bd. 1: Die Griechen, Teilbd. 2: Von Platon bis zum Hellenismus, Stuttgart, Weimar 2001, 19. Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos, 214. Ti. 29d7–30a6: „So laßt uns denn den Grund erörtern, der den Werkmeister veranlaßte, dies Weltgebäude, diese Stätte des Werdens, zusammenzufügen. Er war voller Güte; wer aber gut

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Die Güte Gottes sei die Ursache für die Schöpfung der Welt. Gott wollte alles, was sichtbar war und sich in Unruhe und in ungeordneter Bewegung befand, in eine Ordnung bringen, weil er die Ordnung für gänzlich besser als die Unordnung hielt;10 im Blick auf die Idee11 „fügte er das Weltall in der Weise zusammen, dass er der Seele die Vernunft, die Seele aber dem Körper beigesellte, um ein Werk zu vollbringen, dem an natürlicher Schönheit und Trefflichkeit nichts gleich käme.“12 Und so haben wir denn, zu diesem Schluss kommt Platon, „insofern es sich um eine nur wahrscheinliche Darstellung handelt, allen Grund zu behaupten, dieses Weltall sei ein beseeltes und in Wahrheit vernünftiges Geschöpf (τόνδε τὸν κόσμον ζῷον ἔμψυχον ἔννουν τε τῇ ἀληθείᾳ), wozu es durch die Vorsehung Gottes geworden.“13 So fasst Platon hier die sichtbare Welt als ein optimal vom göttlichen Demiurgen geordnetes Ganzes auf.14 Dieses Bild der Ordnung, das sich im kosmologischen Rahmen des Timaios präsentiert, ist der Höhepunkt des Gedankengangs Platons über die Entstehung und die Struktur der wahrnehmbaren Welt, die die Vollkommenheit der Ideenwelt reflektiert. Zwar mag es wohl das bekannteste Bild der Ordnung im platonischen Œuvre sein, es ist aber nicht das einzige. II 3. Der Dialog Gorgias und die Frage nach dem richtigen Leben. Die Suche nach Ordnung beginnt sehr früh im platonischen Werk, und zwar in einem frühen Dialog, dem Gorgias,15 in dem der Ordnungsgedanke grundlegend entwickelt wird.16 Die

10 11 12 13 14 15

16

ist, für den gibt es niemals und nirgends einen Grund zum Neide. […] Denn da Gott wollte, dass alles möglichst gut, nichts aber schlecht sei, so führte er das ganze Reich des Sichtbaren, das er nicht im Zustand der Ruhe sondern der an kein Maß und keine Regel gebundenen Bewegung übernahm, aus der Unordnung zur Ordnung über, überzeugt, dass dieser Zustand in jeder Hinsicht besser sei als jener.“ – Der Timaios wird nach der Textausgabe von Β. Κάλφας, Πλάτων, Τίμαιος. Εισαγωγή-μετάφραση-σχόλια, Αθήνα 1995 [ΝD 1997], zitiert; bei der Übersetzung des Timaios folge ich der Übersetzung von O. Apelt, Platons Dialoge Timaios und Kritias. Übersetzt und erläutert, zweite durchgesehene Auflage, Leipzig 1922 [ND Hamburg 1988]. Der Gorgias wird nach der Textausgabe von E. R. Dodds, Plato, Gorgias. A Revised Text with Introduction and Commentary, Oxford 1959 [ND 1990], zitiert; bei der Übersetzung des Gorgias folge ich der Übersetzung von J. Dalfen, Platon, Gorgias. Übersetzung und Kommentar, Göttingen 2004. Diese Begründung Platons für die Tätigkeit des Demiurgen gilt für die gesamte griechische Philosophie, bemerkt Gründer, Ordnung, 1250. Gründer, Ordnung, 1249, mit Bezug auf Ti. 27d5ff. Ti. 30b4–6. Ti. 30b6–c1. Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos, 217. Zur Datierung des Gorgias s. M. Erler, Platon (Die Philosophie der Antike, hrsg. v. H. Flashar, Bd. 2/2), Basel 2007, 132–133, der die Forschungsergebnisse kritisch darstellt; nach Erler, 133, „scheinen mehr Argumente für eine Abfassungszeit noch vor der ersten Sizilienreise, also die Jahre zwischen 390 und 388, zu sprechen.“ Anders meint Dalfen, Gorgias, 118, die Entstehungszeit des Gorgias sei „kurz nach der Rückkehr von der ersten Reise nach Sizilien anzusetzen und in einem Zusammenhang mit Platons Gründung der Akademie zu sehen, als Rückblick, als Übergang und als Beginn von etwas Neuem.“ Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos, 214; vgl. Ottmann, Geschichte des politischen Denkens, 19: „Der

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Ordnungsidee wird im Rahmen des Gesprächs mit Kallikles durchgeführt,17 und zwar in demjenigen Teil des Dialoges, welchen die Forschung aufgrund des Textes sowie des inhaltlichen Aufbaus des Gesprächs als eine Diskussion der Frage, „wie man leben soll“ (πῶς βιωτέον), d.h. als eine Diskussion nach dem richtigen Leben, betitelt hat.18 Dort ermutigt Sokrates den Kallikles, das Gespräch weiterzuführen, ἵνα τῷ ὄντι κατάδηλον γένηται πῶς βιωτέον,19

und später weist er ihn darauf hin, dass es letztlich um die richtige Lebensweise geht: ὁρᾷς γὰρ ὅτι περὶ τούτου ἡμῖν εἰσιν οἱ λόγοι, οὗ τί ἂν μᾶλλον σπουδάσειέ τις καὶ σμικρὸν νοῦν ἔχων ἄνθρωπος, ἢ τοῦτο, ὅντινα χρὴ τρόπον ζῆν.20

„Das ist die von Platon erstmals gestellte Frage aller Fragen im Bereich der praktischen Philosophie,“21 – eine Frage, die den Resonanzboden der meisten Dialoge Platons bildet und ein zentrales Thema in seinem Denken ist.22 Der Antwort auf diese Frage wird im gesamten Umfang des Gorgias nachgegangen, was ausdrücklich auf den ethischen Gehalt des Dialoges hinweist und schon in der Antike unterstrichen wurde.23 Auf jeden Fall will Platon im Gorgias darauf aufmerksam machen, „dass die Frage nach der Rhetorik nicht abstrakt, sondern nur im Zusammenhang mit der Frage nach dem rechten Leben abgehandelt werden kann.“24 17

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24

Gorgias bietet die erste philosophische Ordnungsspekulation.“ Das Gespräch mit Kallikles: Grg. 481b-522e; der Ordnungsgedanke: Grg. 503e-508a. Der letzte Passus gilt als der locus classicus für den Ordnungsbegriff im frühen Platon. Eine systematische Darstellung des Gedankens der Ordnung im Gorgias unternimmt H.-J. Krämer, Arete bei Platon und Aristoteles. Zum Wesen und zur Geschichte der platonischen Ontologie, Heidelberg 1959 [2. Aufl. Amsterdam 1967], 57–83, im Rahmen seiner Untersuchung des Gedankens der Ordnung in den früheren Dialogen (41–145), und zwar in der Politeia I, im Gorgias und in der Politeia II-IX, die „drei Stufen der Explikation des Arete-Begriffs und seiner ontologischen Begründung“ repräsentieren (41). So z.B. Th. Kobusch, Wie man leben soll: Gorgias, in: Th. Kobusch, B. Mojsisch (Hg.), Platon. Seine Dialoge in der Sicht neuer Forschungen, Darmstadt 1996, 58. Vgl. Dodds, Gorgias, 1–5, 12–15. Grg. 492d4–5: „damit völlig klar wird, wie man leben soll.“ Grg. 500c1–4: „Denn du siehst ja, dass unsere Gespräche um das gehen, was wohl jeder, der auch nur ein bisschen Vernunft hat, so ernst wie möglich nehmen wird, nämlich darum, auf welche Weise man leben soll.“ Kobusch, Gorgias, 59, der hinzufügt: „Platon selbst bezeichnet diese Frage im 9. Buch der Politeia – das viele Motive aus dem Gorgias aufnimmt – als eine ‚Betrachtung des wichtigsten Gegenstandes‘ überhaupt.“ Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 430. Ziel des Gorgias sei laut Olymp. in Grg. 3, 6 Norvin περὶ τῶν ἀρχῶν τῶν ἠθικῶν διαλεχθῆναι τῶν φερουσῶν ἡμᾶς ἐπὶ τὴν πολιτικὴν εὐδαιμονίαν, zitiert aus Dodds, Gorgias, 1; vgl. Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 134–135. Ähnlich wurde auch in der modernen Zeit geurteilt, z.B. von A. E. Taylor, Plato. The Man and His Work, London 19374 [ND 1978], 106: „Das Leben und wie man leben soll, nicht der Wert der Rhetorik“ sei das eigentliche Thema des Gorgias. Kobusch, Gorgias, 47. Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 135, bemerkt, dass eine Verbindung von bester Lebensweise und richtiger Art der Rede durch formale und inhaltliche Gestaltung nahegelegt wird. „Kompositorisch eng verflochten durchziehen die Themen Rhetorik

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4. Lob des ἀπολαυστικὸς βίος. Im Mittelpunkt des Gesprächs mit Kallikles, das der Höhepunkt des Dialoges ist, steht die Frage nach dem richtigen Leben, die in der Auseinandersetzung mit Kallikles auf die Alternative ‚Politiker oder Philosoph‘ zugespitzt wird.25 Kallikles’ These ist ein Lob des genießerischen Lebens: Man müsse alle seine Begierden nicht zügeln, sondern dauernd und hemmungslos befriedigen, und darin bestehe die richtige Lebensführung;26 ein Leben ohne Genuss sei gleich dem Leben eines Steines.27 Kallikles’ Schluss lautet: τρυφὴ καὶ ἀκολασία καὶ ἐλευθερία, ἐὰν ἐπικουρίαν ἔχῃ, τοῦτ’ ἐστὶν ἀρετή τε καὶ εὐδαιμονία, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα ταῦτ’ ἐστίν, τὰ καλλωπίσματα, τὰ παρὰ φύσιν συνθήματα ἀνθρώπων, φλυαρία καὶ οὐδενὸς ἄξια.28

Kallikles betrachtet also die Erfüllung aller Lüste und Begierden als den eigentlichen Lebensinhalt und argumentiert im Namen einer Natur, die von moralischen Normen unbelastet ist.29 Für Kallikles liegt Glückseligkeit gerade in der Umkehrung der Selbstbeherrschung.30 „Mit der radikalen Reduktion aller Lebensmöglichkeiten auf das vital-elementare Dasein verbindet sich in der Tat eine Umwertung aller Werte, welche die sittlich verstandene Arete in ihrem Bestand gefährdet.“31 Um die Position des Kallikles zu widerlegen und den richtigen Inhalt der Arete und des Glücks zu definieren, untersucht Sokrates zunächst die Entstehung von Ordnung in den menschlichen Artefakten und im Körper unter Berücksichtigung des ἔργον-Begriffs, um danach sich auf die Untersuchung des seelischen Lebens des Menschen in Zusammenhang mit dem ἀρετή-Begriff zu konzentrieren. Diese Überlegungen sollen dazu dienen, eine endgültige Definition der wahren Rhetorik und des Wesens des wahren Politikers zu ermöglichen. 5. Ordnung bei den Artefakten und im Körper. Sokrates beginnt seine Argumentation32 auf folgende Weise: „Der gute Mann, der mit dem Blick auf das Beste redet,

25 26 27 28

29 30 31 32

(ῥητορική) und Glück (εὐδαιμονία) als Leitfäden den Dialog.“ (a.a.O.) Vgl. Dodds, Gorgias, 2–3. M. Erler, Platon, München 2006, 175. Grg. 491e8–492a3 δεῖ τὸν ὀρθῶς βιωσόμενον τὰς μὲν ἐπιθυμίας τὰς ἑαυτοῦ ἐᾶν ὡς μεγίστας εἶναι καὶ μὴ κολάζειν, ταύταις δὲ ὡς μεγίσταις οὔσαις ἱκανὸν εἶναι ὑπηρετεῖν δι’ ἀνδρείαν καὶ φρόνησιν, καὶ ἀποπιμπλάναι ὧν ἂν ἀεὶ ἡ ἐπιθυμία γίγνηται. Grg. 494a8 ὥσπερ λίθον ζῆν, vgl. 492e5–6 Οἱ λίθοι γὰρ ἂν οὕτω γε καὶ οἱ νεκροὶ εὐδαιμονέστατοι εἶεν. Grg. 492c4–8: „Luxus und Ungezügeltheit und Freiheit, wenn sie eine Stütze hat, das ist Tugend und Glück, das andere da, das sind die schönen Worte, die naturwidrigen Vereinbarungen von Menschen, Geschwätz und nichts wert.“ Vgl. 494c2–3. Zum Verhältnis von Lust und richtiger Lebensführung im Gorgias übersichtlich s. G. van Riel, Pleasure and the Good Life. Plato, Aristotle, and the Neoplatonists, Leiden, Boston, Köln 2000, 10–12; ausführlich s. J. C. B. Gosling, C. C. W. Taylor, The Greeks on Pleasure, Oxford 1982, 69–82; D. C. Russell, Plato on Pleasure and the Good Life, Oxford 2005, 48–76. Vgl. Kobusch, Gorgias, 59. M. van Ackeren, Das Wissen vom Guten. Bedeutung und Kontinuität des Tugendwissens in den Dialogen Platons, Amsterdam, Philadelphia 2003, 106. Krämer, Arete, 62. Die gesamte Argumentation: Grg. 503d6–504a5.

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wird doch wohl alles, was er redet, nicht aufs Geratewohl reden, sondern er wird auf etwas hinblicken.“33 Ähnlich verfahren alle Handwerker, fährt Platon fort; „jeder blickt auf sein Werk, er wählt nicht aufs Geratewohl etwas und wendet es auf sein eigenes Werk an, sondern so, dass das, woran er arbeitet, eine bestimmte Form und ein bestimmtes Aussehen bekommt;“34 als Beispiel dafür werden zunächst die Maler, die Architekten und die Schiffsbauingenieure erwähnt. Für alle diese fähigen Experten gilt, dass εἰς τάξιν τινὰ ἕκαστος ἕκαστον τίθησιν ὃ ἂν τιθῇ, καὶ προσαναγκάζει τὸ ἕτερον τῷ ἑτέρῳ πρέπον τε εἶναι καὶ ἁρμόττειν, ἕως ἂν τὸ ἅπαν συστήσεται τεταγμένον τε καὶ κεκοσμημένον πρᾶγμα,35

und auf diese Weise erzeugt der Experte Ordnung.36 Ähnlich betätigen sich auch die Sportlehrer und die Ärzte: κοσμοῦσί που τὸ σῶμα καὶ συντάττουσιν.37

Notwendig ist daher die Herrschaft der τάξις und des κόσμος sowohl für die Artefakte, damit sie vollständig und funktionsfähig sein können, als auch für den Körper, damit er gesund und kräftig sein kann38. Ordnung verleiht den Dingen Arete und Brauchbarkeit.39 6. Ordnung in der Seele. Dasselbe gilt auch für das seelische Leben, denn „bei der sokratischen Sorge für die Seele geht es immer auch um ihre innere Ordnung“40. Der gute Zustand der Seele manifestiert sich in Tugenden.41 So manifestiert sich die Herrschaft der τάξις und des κόσμος in der Seele durch die ἀρεταί der Gerechtigkeit und der Besonnenheit: Ταῖς δέ γε τῆς ψυχῆς τάξεσι καὶ κοσμήσεσιν νόμιμόν τε καὶ νόμος, ὅθεν καὶ νόμιμοι γίγνονται καὶ κόσμιοι· ταῦτα δ’ ἔστιν δικαιοσύνη τε καὶ σωφροσύνη.42 33

34 35 36 37

38 39 40 41 42

Grg. 503d6–e1. ἀποβλέπων πρός τι (503e1: ‚auf etwas hinblickend‘) kann auf die Ideenlehre anspielen; vgl. Kobusch, Gorgias, 60, der sich dabei auf den gesamten Passus 503d ff. beruft. Dodds, Gorgias, 328 z.St., bemerkt, dass dieses ‚etwas‘ ein geistiges Bildnis oder Vorbild der Produkte, welche er (sc. der gute Mensch) erzeugen will, zu sein scheint, obwohl sein ontologischer Stand vage gelassen wird. Nach K. Bormann, Platon, 4. erneut durchg. Aufl. 2003 [1. Aufl. 1973], 31, ist es strittig, ob die Ideenlehre im Gorgias zugrundeliegt oder nicht. Grg. 503e1–5. Grg. 503e7–504a2: „wie jeder alles, was er hinstellt, in eine gewisse Ordnung bringt und jedes Element zwingt dem anderen zu entsprechen und zu ihm zu passen, bis er das Ganze zusammengestellt hat als eine wohlgeordnete Sache.“ Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos, 214–215. Grg. 504a4–5: „sie gestalten doch den Körper und bringen ihn in Ordnung“. Das ergon, bemerkt Dalfen, Gorgias, 412 z.St., „kann in einem effizierten Objekt bestehen (einem Schuh, einem Tisch […]) oder in einem affizierten (Gesundheit des Körpers, Sicherheit der Passagiere […]).“ Vgl. Grg. 504a8–b9. Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 136. Vgl. Krämer, Arete, 66: „Durch τάξις und κόσμος erhalten die Dinge ihre Brauchbarkeit, durch ἀταξία werden sie untauglich.“ Erler, Platon, 176–177. Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 431. Grg. 504d1–3: „Die Gestaltungen und Ordnungen der Seele haben die Bezeichnungen ‚Gesetz-

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Der τεχνικός und ἀγαθός Rhetor, der einzige wahre Rhetor – damit ist offensichtlich Sokrates selbst gemeint –,43 wird dafür sorgen, dass diese beiden ἀρεταί und alle übrigen in der Seele entstehen und alle κακίαι verschwinden;44 die wahre Rhetorik, d.h. die Philosophie, muss auf die Ordnung der Seele achten, die allein durch Gerechtigkeit und Zucht und die anderen Kardinaltugenden hergestellt werden kann.45 Wenn für einen kranken Körper der Verzicht auf ein Übermaß an Speisen und Getränken notwendig ist, denn „es nützt […] dem Menschen nicht, mit der Schlechtigkeit des Körpers zu leben“,46 dann ist es ebenso für eine kranke Seele notwendig, dass man sie von ihren Wünschen abhält.47 Gezügelt zu werden ist also für eine solche Seele besser als ihre Zügellosigkeit.48 „Deshalb ist Strafe kein Unglück, sondern eine Wohltat für den Übeltäter, da sie Heilung der Seele und ihr Glück bewirkt. Philosophie und richtig verstandener Politik geht es also darum, die Menschen von Illusionen zu befreien.“49 Die sokratische Argumentation wird so fortgeführt, dass zwischen ἡδύ und ἀγαθόν unterschieden und dem ἀγαθόν der Vorrang zuerkannt wird.50 Es wird ferner betont, dass die Anwesenheit der ἀρετή in einem jeden Einzelnen – sei es ein Gegenstand, ein Körper, eine Seele oder ein Lebewesen – diejenige ist, welche jedes Einzelne gut macht, und zwar unter der Voraussetzung, dass sich die ἀρετή eines jeden Einzelnen durch τάξις, ὀρθότης und τέχνη, die einem jeden gegeben wird, einstellt: Ἀλλὰ μὴν ἀγαθοί γέ ἐσμεν καὶ ἡμεῖς καὶ τἆλλα πάντα ὅσ’ ἀγαθά ἐστιν, ἀρετῆς τινος παραγενομένης; […] Ἀλλὰ μὲν δὴ ἥ γε ἀρετὴ ἑκάστου, καὶ σκεύους καὶ σώματος καὶ ψυχῆς αὖ καὶ ζῴου παντός, οὐχ οὕτως εἰκῇ κάλλιστα παραγίγνεται, ἀλλὰ τάξει καὶ ὀρθότητι καὶ τέχνῃ, ἥτις ἑκάστῳ ἀποδέδοται αὐτῶν· […] Τάξει ἄρα τεταγμένον τι καὶ κεκοσμημένον ἐστὶν ἡ ἀρετὴ ἑκάστου;51

43 44 45

46 47 48 49 50 51

lichkeit‘ und ‚Gesetz‘, wodurch die Menschen sowohl gesetzestreu wie auch ordentlich werden. Dies aber ist Gerechtigkeit und Besonnenheit.“ Dodds, Gorgias, 330 z.St., mit Bezug auch auf Grg. 521d; s. bes. d6–8 [Sokrates] Οἶμαι μετ’ ὀλίγων Ἀθηναίων, ἵνα μὴ εἴπω μόνος, ἐπιχειρεῖν τῇ ὡς ἀληθῶς πολιτικῇ τέχνη καὶ πράττειν τὰ πολιτικὰ μόνος τῶν νῦν. Vgl. Erler, Platon, 177. Grg. 504d5–e3; e1–3 κακίαι: ἀδικία und ἀκολασία; 507a1–6 σωφροσύνη = ἀρετή, ἀκολασία = κακία. Dazu s. Krämer, Arete, 66–68. Kobusch, Gorgias, 60. „Mit dem Ordnungsbegriff und dem Hinweis auf die innere Struktur der Seele wird eine nach dem Zeugnis späterer Dialoge (von Politeia bis zum Sophistes) für Platons Ontologie zentrale Thematik angesprochen, ohne detailliert ausgeführt zu werden“. So Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 137, mit Verweis auf Krämer, Arete, 75. Grg. 505a2–3; vgl. 512a-b. Grg. 504e5–505b8. Kennzeichen einer kranken Seele ist, dass sie ἀνόητος, ἀκόλαστος, ἄδικος und ἀνόσιος ist: 505b2–3. Grg. 505b9–12 [Sokrates] Οὐκοῦν τὸ εἴργειν ἐστὶν ἀφ’ ὧν ἐπιθυμεῖ κολάζειν; […] Τὸ κολάζεσθαι ἄρα τῇ ψυχῇ ἄμεινόν ἐστιν ἢ ἡ ἀκολασία […]. Erler, Platon, 177. Grg. 506c6–9. Grg. 506d2–e2. Aus der Stelle 506d3–4 ἀρετῆς τινος παραγενομένης geht „der ontologische Charakter der Arete (mit der die bisherigen Normbegriffe: ἀγαθόν, τέλος, οὗ ἕνεκα, κόσμος, τάξις weithin zusammenfallen) als ἀρετή-εἶδος (vgl. 503e4)“ klar hervor. So Krämer, Arete, 67 Anm. 60.

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Sokrates’ Schluss, dass die Tugend jedes Einzelnen „etwas durch Ordnung Gestaltetes und Geordnetes“ ist, ist das plausible Ergebnis der bisherigen gesamten Syllogistik über die Verbindung zwischen τάξις, κόσμος und ἀρετή. Die Ordnung, die jedem Einzelnen eigentümlich ist, ist diejenige, welche jedes Einzelne ἀγαθόν macht,52 d.h., „dass τάξις und κόσμος jede Entität in ihren bestmöglichen Zustand, ihre Tugend, überführen.“53 Folglich ist eine Seele, wenn sie über die ihr eigentümliche Ordnung verfügt, κοσμία und σώφρων, also ἀγαθή; dagegen ist die unvernünftige und zügellose Seele κακή.54 7. Selbstkontrolle und Gemeinschaftsfähigkeit. Mit allem Nachdruck wird jetzt das Ideal des richtigen Lebens dargestellt, dessen Verwirklichung zum Glück führt: Der σώφρων, d.h. der selbstkontrollierte Mensch, ist vollkommen gut und „der gute Mensch muss alles, was er macht, gut und richtig machen, und wer es gut macht, muss selig und glücklich sein, wer aber schlecht ist und es schlecht macht, unglücklich.“55 Der σκοπός des Lebens und damit auch die endgültige Antwort auf die Frage, wie man leben soll, ist das Erreichen der δικαιοσύνη und der σωφροσύνη und von dieser Zielsetzung muss das private wie auch das öffentliche Leben geleitet werden; die zügellosen Wünsche und der Versuch, sie zu erfüllen, sind dagegen ‚ein Übel ohne Ende‘ und kennzeichnen den λῃστρικὸς βίος; derjenige, der ein solches Leben führt, οὔτε […] ἂν ἄλλῳ ἀνθρώπῳ προσφιλὴς ἂν εἴη […] οὔτε θεῷ· κοινωνεῖν γὰρ ἀδύνατος, ὅτῳ δὲ μὴ ἔνι κοινωνία, φιλία οὐκ ἂν εἴη.56

Freundschaft ist ein notwendiger Bestandteil der Glückseligkeit und basiert auf Gemeinschaft, der Anteilnahme an einem Gemeinwesen.57 „Ein amoralischer Mensch ist aus der menschlichen Gemeinschaft ausgeschlossen und deshalb unglücklich.“58 Nach Platon ist mit Eudaimonie „nicht ein subjektives Wohlbefinden, sondern ein Erfüllungsglück mit objektiven Kriterien für eine richtige Lebenswahl“ gemeint.59 So lässt Platon Glück und Unglück in aller Konsequenz zu einer reinen Angelegenheit der Seele werden, fern aller Macht und fern allen äußeren Erfolgs,60 denn 52 53 54 55

56

57 58 59 60

Grg. 506e2–4 Κόσμος τις ἄρα ἐγγενόμενος ἐν ἑκάστῳ ὁ ἑκάστου οἰκεῖος ἀγαθὸν παρέχει ἕκαστον τῶν ὄντων; Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos, 215. Grg. 506e4–507a7. Grg. 507c1–5; s. ferner c9–d6 und zur Rekonstruktion der sokratischen Syllogistik s. Dodds, Gorgias, 335 f. z.St. Vgl. auch Grg. 491d10–e1 [Kallikles] Πῶς ἑαυτοῦ ἄρχοντα λέγεις; [Sokrates] Οὐδὲν ποικίλον, ἀλλ’ ὥσπερ οἱ πολλοί, σώφρονα ὄντα καὶ ἐγκρατῆ αὐτὸν ἑαυτοῦ, τῶν ἡδονῶν καὶ ἐπιθυμιῶν ἄρχοντα τῶν ἐν ἑαυτῷ. Grg. 507e3–6: Ein solcher Mensch „kann doch wohl weder einem Menschen lieb sein noch Gott; er ist nämlich zur Gemeinschaft unfähig, in wem aber keine Gemeinschaft ist, in dem kann auch keine Freundschaft sein;“ der gesamte Passus: Grg. 507d6–e6. Dazu s. Dodds, Gorgias, 337 z.St., der auch bemerkt, dass diese Position später im ‚erschreckenden Portrait‘ des τυραννικὸς ἀνήρ in der Politeia (bes. 578e-579c) bearbeitet wurde. van Ackeren, Das Wissen vom Guten, 115. Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 141. Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 432. Ottmann, Geschichte des politischen Denkens, 20.

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„Glück oder Unglück bemessen sich nach dem Zuträglichen oder Schaden, welche die Seele treffen.“61 Er macht auch die Ordnung in der Seele zur Grundlage für Ordnung im Staat – ein Gedanke, den er in der Politeia klar ausspricht, wo er die Gerechtigkeit als das Wesen der seelischen Ordnung bestimmen und erläutern wird.62 Darüber hinaus widerlegt das Gespräch mit Kallikles „nicht nur theoretisch dessen Position, sondern zeigt zugleich auch, wohin sie schon im Gespräch selbst als einer Version dessen, ‚wie man leben soll‘, notwendig führt: nämlich in die Kommunikationslosigkeit und in die Unfähigkeit zum Dialog.“63 Aus der gesamten Darstellung tritt deutlich hervor, welche nach Platon die eigentliche Aufgabe der Politik wie auch welcher ihr Bezug zur Philosophie ist. „Philosophie und Politik gemeinsam ist die Sorge um Ordnung in der Seele und in der Gemeinschaft, als Quelle für Gerechtigkeit und damit für individuelles und staatliches Glück. Umkehr des Menschen, Restitution der Ordnung in Seele und Staat: Dies zu befördern ist Ziel einer Lebensform, in der Philosophie und Politik keine Gegensätze sind und deren herausragender Repräsentant Sokrates ist.“64 Damit wird auch völlig klar, dass die sokratisch-platonische ‚wahre Politik‘ in Kontrast zu jener realen Politik zur Zeit Platons steht, die von einer moralischen Ungebundenheit des Politischen und einem erkenntnistheoretischen Relativismus ausging sowie in Gesetzen bloße Setzungen sah.65 8. Ordnung im Kosmos. Schließlich überträgt Sokrates diese gesamte Vorstellung von der Verbindung zwischen τάξις und κόσμος auf das Universum: φασὶ δ’ οἱ σοφοὶ […] καὶ οὐρανὸν καὶ γῆν καὶ θεοὺς καὶ ἀνθρώπους τὴν κοινωνίαν συνέχειν καὶ φιλίαν καὶ κοσμιότητα καὶ σωφροσύνην καὶ δικαιότητα, καὶ τὸ ὅλον τοῦτο διὰ ταῦτα κόσμον καλοῦσιν […] οὐκ ἀκοσμίαν οὐδὲ ἀκολασίαν,66

wobei er sich auch auf die Natur als Referenzbereich für Verhaltensnormen beruft und in der Natur das Wirken einer gerechten Ordnung erkennt, die jedem zuteilt,

61 62 63

64 65 66

Erler, Platon, 176. Dazu s. Erler, Platon, 178 ff. Kobusch, Gorgias, 60, der ferner bemerkt (61), das Schweigen, in das Kallikles (506c-509) verfällt, sei „das notwendige Verhalten einer ‚despotischen Seele‘, eines Tyrannen des Gesprächs, der als eigenmächtiger Meister der Wahrheit sich dem gemeinsamen Logos nicht beugen will;“ da er dem Logos im Sinne ‚kommunikativer Vernunft‘ nicht folgen will, verfällt er notwendig in die Sprach- und Kommunikationslosigkeit. (a.a.O.) Erler, Platon, 177. Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 441. Grg. 507e6–508a4: „Nun sagen aber die Weisen, […] dass die Gemeinschaft und die Freundschaft Himmel und Erde, Götter und Menschen zusammenhalten und der Sinn für Ordnung und die Besonnenheit und der Gerechtigkeitssinn. Und dieses Ganze nennen sie deshalb Kosmos, […] nicht Ordnungslosigkeit und nicht Zügellosigkeit.“ Diese ist nach Dodds, Gorgias, 337 z.St., „Platons Lösung der νόμος-φύσις Kontroverse; diese Antithese ist Platon zufolge falsch: „νόμος ist in der φύσις verwurzelt; die soziale Ordnung und die Naturordnung sind Ausdrücke des gleichen göttlichen Gesetzes – welches sich als Gesetz enthüllt, weil es mit mathematischen Termini dargelegt werden kann; ἀκοσμία ist παρὰ φύσιν, wie es später Aristoteles (π. φιλοσοφίας fr. 17) ausdrückte.“

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was ihm zusteht.67 Das Ordnungsprinzip ist nicht nur das Prinzip der inneren Seelenstruktur des Menschen und der menschlichen Gesellschaft, sondern auch das Prinzip des gesamten Universums, dessen großes Gesetz nicht das Mehrhabenwollen (πλεονεξία), wie Kallikles annimmt, sondern die geometrische Gleichheit (γεωμετρικὴ ἰσότης) ist; „Du kümmerst dich ja nicht um Geometrie“, wirft Sokrates Kallikles vor.68 So verweist Sokrates auf das geometrische Gleichheitsprinzip als Struktur in oder hinter der Natur und sieht die Natur als Ordnungsstruktur (Kosmos), die mit ethischen Forderungen verbunden werden kann.69 Damit wird auch offenbar, dass die platonische Ethik im Gorgias, wie später im Timaios, kosmisch orientiert ist.70 Diese Auffassung weist deutlich auf die enge Verbindung zwischen Mikrokosmos und Makrokosmos hin, welche schon in der vorplatonischen Philosophie und Medizin unter verschiedenen (u.a. biologischen) Perspektiven und mit unterschiedlichen Argumenten vorgetragen worden ist.71 Diese Verbindung wird von Platon mit allem Nachdruck und unter neuer Dimensionierung dargestellt, besonders im Timaios, in dem der Mensch ein Mikrokosmos ist, „der in vielem dem Aufbau des Makrokosmos der Welt entspricht.“72

67 68

69

70

71 72

Erler, Platon, 176. Grg. 508a5–8 [Sokrates] λέληθέν σε ὅτι ἡ ἰσότης ἡ γεωμετρικὴ καὶ ἐν θεοῖς καὶ ἐν ἀνθρώποις μέγα δύναται, σὺ δὲ πλεονεξίαν οἴει δεῖν ἀσκεῖν· γεωμετρίας γὰρ ἀμελεῖς. Zum Begriff der ‚geometrischen Gleichheit‘ s. Dodds, Gorgias, 339 f. z.St. und Dalfen, Gorgias, 432 f. z.St. Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 137, bemerkt, dass sich in der Forderung nach Ordnung ein mathematisches Interesse widerspiegelt, das wir ebenso im übrigen Gorgias finden – vielleicht ein pythagoreisches Element, das auf Späteres vorausdeutet. Erler, Platon, 199. Der Gorgias bewies, bemerkt van Ackeren, Das Wissen vom Guten, 122, „dass die Ordnung von Individuum und Staat in einem größeren gemeinsamen Rahmen, dem des Kosmos, zu denken ist: Welt, Staat und Seele als Gefügtes unterliegen dem Prinzip der geometrischen Gleichheit.“ Krämer, Arete, 69 Anm. 70. Nach Krämer, a.a.O., spiegeln die Ordnung der Seele und die Ordnung der Welt (im Timaios wie auch hier im Gorgias) einander nicht einfach wider, sondern ihre Analogie beruht „auf einer ontologischen Strukturverwandtschaft, auf der gemeinsamen Parusie des εἶδος, das κόσμος und τάξις ist.“ Im Men. 81c9–d1 heißt es: ἅτε γὰρ τῆς φύσεως ἁπάσης συγγενοῦς οὔσης. In diesem Passus hat Platon früh schon nach Th. A. Szlezák, Psyche-Polis-Kosmos. Bemerkungen zur Einheit des platonischen Denkens, in: E. Rudolph (Hg.), Naturphilosophie und politische Philosophie bei Platon, Darmstadt 1996, 41, „seine Überzeugung von der Verbundenheit aller wahren Erkenntnis und vom einheitlichen Seinszusammenhang, der sie ermöglicht, zum Ausdruck gebracht.“ S. dazu M. R. Wright, Cosmology in Antiquity, London, New York 1995, 56–74. Übersichtlich zur Makrokosmos/Mikrokosmos-Vorstellung in der Antike und im Mittelalter: M. Gatzemeier, Makrokosmos/Mikrokosmos, in: HWPh 5, 1980, 640–642. Erler, Platon, 196, der mit Bezug auf Ti. 92c hinzufügt, dass die Welt, wie der Mensch, ein Lebewesen ist.

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III 9. Den Umläufen des Alls folgen. In der Platonforschung ist die Bedeutung des Begriffs der Ordnung für das Verständnis und die Interpretation des platonischen Philosophierens, besonders der platonischen Ontologie, mehrfach hervorgehoben worden.73 Auf die Darstellung dieser Interpretationsvorschläge kann im Rahmen des vorliegenden Aufsatzes, der sich auf den Gorgias konzentriert, nicht eingegangen werden. Auf jeden Fall hat Platon im Gorgias klar gezeigt, dass der Begriff der Ordnung eng mit der Seele, dem Staat und dem Kosmos zusammenhängt. Das breite Feld des Ordnungsgedankens lässt sich dadurch erklären, dass für Platon umfassende Ordnungsprinzipien existieren, „die zur gleichen Zeit für das Universum, die menschliche Seele sowie für Rechts- und Staatsordnung gültig sind. Auf der Ebene des Kosmos sind diese Prinzipien allerdings faktisch in Geltung, während sie für die Seele und den Staat im normativen Sinn verbindlich sein sollen.“74 Die psychische und politische Dimension der Ordnung wird danach am deutlichsten in der Politeia dargestellt, während ihre kosmologische Dimension im späteren Platon hervorgehoben wird. Dort wird zugleich die ὁμοίωσις θεῷ κατὰ τὸ δυνατόν als höchstes Handlungsziel des Menschen festgesetzt.75 Im Timaios dient die Naturphilosophie der Therapie der Seele und ist Teil der Ethik.76 Aber schon im Phaidon gehören Seele und Kosmos eng zusammen, denn „die Seelenlehre des Sokrates braucht einen kosmologischen Rahmen,“77 wobei auch die Möglichkeit 73

74 75 76

77

Dazu s. Hoffmann, Die Entstehung von Ordnung, 15–19, der die Interpretationsvorschläge hauptsächlich von (i) E. Voegelin, Order and History III: Plato and Aristotle, Louisiana 1957, (ii) H. Kuhn, Das Gute und die Ordnung. Über die Grundlagen der Metaphysik in Platons Gorgias, in: ders., Das Sein und das Gute, München 1962, 201–219, und (iii) H.-J. Krämer, Arete, übersichtlich dargestellt hat. Dabei erkennt er an (19), dass es das Verdienst Krämers ist, gezeigt zu haben, dass die „platonische Seinslehre […] durchweg vom Begriff der Ordnung (κόσμος, τάξις) bestimmt“ ist (Arete, 141). Hoffmann geht bei seiner Untersuchung davon aus, „dass der ‚metatheoretische‘ Ansatz Platons, der den Zusammenhang der Bestimmung von Sein, Erkennen und Handeln zum Ziel hat, in den späteren Dialogen durch den Grundgedanken der Entstehung von Ordnung bestimmt ist“ (22), und untersucht, wie dieser Grundgedanke in den späteren Dialogen zu verstehen und zu begründen ist. Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos, 214. Tht. 176b1–2; vgl. Lg. IV 716c1–d4, Tht. 176b8–c5 und s. dazu Hoffmann, Die Entstehung von Ordnung, 303–306. Erler, Platon, 198, ausführlich 196–198. Zur Ethik des Timaios s. ferner L. Brisson, Den Kosmos betrachten, um richtig zu leben: Timaios, in: Th. Kobusch, B. Mojsisch (Hg.), Platon. Seine Dialoge in der Sicht neuer Forschungen, Darmstadt 1996, 242–245; G. R. Carone, The Ethical Function of Astronomy in Plato’s Timaeus, in: T. Calvo, L. Brisson (Hg.), Interpreting the Timaeus – Kritias. Proceedings of the IV Symposium Platonicum. Selected Papers, Sankt Augustin 1997, 341–349. F. Karfik, Die Beseelung des Kosmos. Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie, Seelenlehre und Theologie in Platons Phaidon und Timaios, München, Leipzig 2004, 45. Er fügt hinzu: „Die Unsterblichkeit der Seele ist ohne den Gedanken eines kosmischen Kreislaufs, in dem die Seelen einbezogen sind, systematisch nicht zu denken, und die Belohnung bzw. Bestrafung der Seelen ist ebenfalls ohne den Gedanken eines ontologisch abgestuften Weltalls systematisch nicht zu fassen.“ „Der ganze Dialog stellt unter diesem Gesichtspunkt einen deutlichen Schritt in die Richtung einer Seelenkosmologie dar, wie wir sie aus dem Timaios kennen.“ (a.a.O.)

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einer Naturphilosophie, die die Welt als ein teleologisch geordnetes Ganzes begreift, bereits hier erörtert wird.78 Die Menschen, heißt es im Timaios, sind „Geschöpfe, die nicht irdischen sondern himmlischen Ursprungs sind“, und der Daimon in uns, d.h. die Denkseele, ist diejenige, die „uns von der Erde aufwärts zur verwandten Himmelsregion richtet.“79 Damit wird eine Seelentherapie verbunden, welche mit dem Postulat nach der Wiederherstellung unserer ἀρχαία φύσις in Zusammenhang steht: θεραπεία δὲ δὴ παντὶ παντὸς μία, τὰς οἰκείας ἑκάστῳ τροφὰς καὶ κινήσεις ἀποδιδόναι. τῷ δ’ ἐν ἡμῖν θείῳ συγγενεῖς εἰσιν κινήσεις αἱ τοῦ παντὸς διανοήσεις καὶ περιφοραί· ταύταις δὴ συνεπόμενον ἕκαστον δεῖ, τὰς περὶ τὴν γένεσιν ἐν τῇ κεφαλῇ διεφθαρμένας ἡμῶν περιόδους ἐξορθοῦντα διὰ τὸ καταμανθάνειν τὰς τοῦ παντὸς ἁρμονίας τε καὶ περιφοράς, τῷ κατανοουμένῳ τὸ κατανοοῦν ἐξομοιῶσαι κατὰ τὴν ἀρχαίαν φύσιν, ὁμοιώσαντα δὲ τέλος ἔχειν τοῦ προτεθέντος ἀνθρώποις ὑπὸ θεῶν ἀρίστου βίου πρός τε τὸν παρόντα καὶ τὸν ἔπειτα χρόνον.80

„Genau in diesem Prozess der Korrektur unserer Seelenbewegung realisiert sich die ‚Wirkmacht des gemeinsamen Werdens‘ von Mensch und Kosmos; denn es liegt für Platon in der ‚ursprünglichen‘ Natur des Menschen wie des Kosmos, dass beider Bewegung harmonisch und vernünftig ist.“81 So trägt Naturphilosophie zur Überwindung der ‚Natur‘ bei und verhilft damit zu einer Angleichung der Seele an den Bereich ihrer geistigen Herkunft (ὁμοίωσις θεῷ).82 Die Wiederherstellung der 78

79 80

81 82

Horn, Ordnung/Kosmos, 216, unter Bezugnahme auf das von Sokrates geforderte Erklärungsprinzip des Kosmos – Sokrates habe von der Schrift des Anaxagoras erwartet, τόν γε νοῦν κοσμοῦντα πάντα κοσμεῖν καὶ ἕκαστον τιθέναι ταύτῃ ὅπῃ ἂν βέλτιστα ἔχῃ (Phd. 97c4– 6) zu erklären, das man als ‚Prinzip der bestmöglichen Ordnung des Universums‘ bezeichnen könne. Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 451, bemerkt: „Der Timaios führt somit vor, was Anaxagoras im Phaidon vermissen lässt: Er zeigt, wie die Welt die Ideen reflektiert. Die teleologisch-naturphilosophischen Ausführungen im Timaios sind die Antwort auf die Kritik traditioneller Naturphilosophie im Phaidon.“ Ti. 90a5–7 πρὸς δὲ τὴν ἐν οὐρανῷ συγγένειαν ἀπὸ γῆς ἡμᾶς αἴρειν (sc. τὸν δαίμονα) ὡς ὄντας φυτὸν οὐκ ἔγγειον ἀλλὰ οὐράνιον. Dazu s. Szlezák, Psyche-Polis-Kosmos, 26 f. Ti. 90c6–d7: „Es gilt also für jedermann durchgehend die eine Pflicht, dafür zu sorgen, dass einem jeden Teil die ihm zukommende Nahrung und Bewegung zuteil werde. Dem Göttlichen in uns verwandte Bewegungen aber zeigen die Denktätigkeiten und Umläufe des Alls. Ihnen also muss ein jeder folgen und durch Erforschung der Harmonien und Umläufe des Alls den Umläufen in unserem Haupte, die schon bei der Entstehung Schaden gelitten haben, ihre richtige Gestaltung verleihen und so das Betrachtende dem Betrachteten seiner ursprünglichen Natur gemäß angleichen, um auf diese Weise gekrönt zu werden mit demjenigen Leben, das den Menschen von den Göttern als das Beste für die gegenwärtige wie für alle folgende Zeit vorgehalten worden ist.“ Vgl. Ti. 47b6–c4 θεὸν ἡμῖν ἀνευρεῖν δωρήσασθαί τε ὄψιν, ἵνα τὰς ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ τοῦ νοῦ κατιδόντες περιόδους χρησαίμεθα ἐπὶ τὰς περιφορὰς τὰς τῆς παρ’ ἡμῖν διανοήσεως, συγγενεῖς ἐκείναις οὔσας, ἀταράκτοις τεταραγμένας, ἐκμαθόντες δὲ καὶ λογισμῶν κατὰ φύσιν ὀρθότητος μετασχόντες, μιμούμενοι τὰς τοῦ θεοῦ πάντως ἀπλανεῖς οὔσας, τὰς ἐν ἡμῖν πεπλανημένας καταστησαίμεθα. Dazu s. Κάλφας, Τίμαιος, 412–414 z.St. Hoffmann, Die Entstehung von Ordnung, 306. Erler, Philosophie der Antike. Platon, 452. Dazu s. auch D. Sedley, ‚Becoming like God‘ in the Timaeus and Aristotle, in: T. Calvo, L. Brisson (Hg.), Interpreting the Timaeus – Kritias. Proceedings of the IV Symposium Platonicum. Selected Papers, Sankt Augustin 1997, 327–339.

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ἀρχαία φύσις ist stets ein permanentes wie auch dringliches Postulat des platonischen Philosophierens gewesen, und die ‚Denktätigkeiten und Umläufe des Alls‘ sind für Platon wegweisend für die Erlangung des ‚besten Lebens‘. BIBLIOGRAPHIE Ackeren, M., van, Das Wissen vom Guten. Bedeutung und Kontinuität des Tugendwissens in den Dialogen Platons, Amsterdam, Philadelphia 2003 Apelt, O., Platons Dialoge Timaios und Kritias. Übersetzt und erläutert, zweite durchgesehene Auflage, Leipzig 1922 [ND Hamburg 1988] Bormann, K., Platon, 4. erneut durchgesehene Auflage 2003 [1. Aufl. 1973] Brisson, L., Den Kosmos betrachten, um richtig zu leben: Timaios, in: Th. Kobusch, B. Mojsisch (Hg.), Platon. Seine Dialoge in der Sicht neuer Forschungen, Darmstadt 1996, 229–248 Carone, G. R., The Ethical Function of Astronomy in Plato’s Timaeus, in: T. Calvo, L. Brisson (Hg.), Interpreting the Timaeus – Kritias. Proceedings of the IV Symposium Platonicum. Selected Papers, Sankt Augustin 1997, 341–349 Dalfen, J., Voraussetzungen und Entwicklungen des griechischen Begriffs kosmos, in: PhN 17, 1979, 460–478 Dalfen, J., Platon, Gorgias. Übersetzung und Kommentar, Göttingen 2004 Dodds, E. R., Plato, Gorgias. A Revised Text with Introduction and Commentary, Oxford 1959 [ND 1990] Erler, M., Platon, München 2006 Erler, M., Platon (Die Philosophie der Antike, hrsg. v. H. Flashar, Bd. 2/2), Basel 2007 Gatzemeier, M., Kosmos, in: HWPh 4, 1976, 1167–1173 Gatzemeier, M., Makrokosmos/Mikrokosmos, in: HWPh 5, 1980, 640–642 Gosling, J. C. B., Taylor, C. C. W., The Greeks on Pleasure, Oxford 1982 Gründer, K., Ordnung, in: HWPh 6, 1984, 1249–1251 Hoffmann, M., Die Entstehung von Ordnung. Zur Bestimmung von Sein, Erkennen und Handeln in der späteren Philosophie Platons, Stuttgart, Leipzig 1996 Horn, Chr., Ordnung/Kosmos (taxis/kosmos), in: Chr. Schäfer (Hg.), Platon-Lexikon. Begriffswörterbuch zu Platon und der platonischen Tradition, Darmstadt 2007, 214–219 Κάλφας, Β., Πλάτων, Τίμαιος. Εισαγωγή-μετάφραση-σχόλια, Αθήνα 1995 [ND 1997] Karfik, F., Die Beseelung des Kosmos. Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie, Seelenlehre und Theologie in Platons Phaidon und Timaios, München, Leipzig 2004 Kobusch, Th., Wie man leben soll: Gorgias, in: Th. Kobusch, B. Mojsisch (Hg.), Platon. Seine Dialoge in der Sicht neuer Forschungen, Darmstadt 1996, 47–63 Krämer, H.-J., Arete bei Platon und Aristoteles. Zum Wesen und zur Geschichte der platonischen Ontologie, Heidelberg 1959 [2. Aufl. Amsterdam 1967] Kuhn, H., Das Gute und die Ordnung. Über die Grundlagen der Metaphysik in Platons Gorgias, in: ders., Das Sein und das Gute, München 1962, 201–219 Ottmann, H., Geschichte des politischen Denkens. Von den Anfängen bei den Griechen bis auf unsere Zeit, Bd. 1: Die Griechen, Teilbd. 2: Von Platon bis zum Hellenismus, Stuttgart, Weimar 2001 Rapp, Chr., Vorsokratiker, München 1997 Riel, G., van, Pleasure and the Good Life. Plato, Aristotle, and the Neoplatonists, Leiden, Boston, Köln 2000 Russell, D. C., Plato on Pleasure and the Good Life, Oxford 2005 Sedley, D., ‚Becoming like God‘ in the Timaeus and Aristotle, in: T. Calvo, L. Brisson (Hg.), Interpreting the Timaeus – Kritias. Proceedings of the IV Symposium Platonicum. Selected Papers, Sankt Augustin 1997, 327–339 Szlezák, Th. A., Psyche-Polis-Kosmos. Bemerkungen zur Einheit des platonischen Denkens, in: E.

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Rudolph (Hg.), Naturphilosophie und politische Philosophie bei Platon, Darmstadt 1996, 26– 42 Taylor, A. E., Plato. The Man and His Work, London 19374 [ND 1978] Voegelin, E., Order and History III: Plato and Aristotle, Louisiana 1957 Wöhrle, G., Anaximenes aus Milet. Die Fragmente zu seiner Lehre. Herausgegeben, übersetzt, erläutert und mit einer Einleitung versehen, Stuttgart 1993

22 “CET ÉTANT N’A PAS ÉTÉ GÉNÉRÉ EN TANT QU’ÉTANT”? (PHYSIQUE I, 8, CONTRE DE LA GÉNÉRATION ET DE LA CORRUPTION I, 3 Doukas Kapantaïs Abstract In the Physics, Aristotle seems to believe that he has provided a solution to the problem of “generation coming out of the non-being”. He takes the answer to be that generation comes out of the non-being, but not out of the non-being simpliciter. This paper argues the point that in the De Generatione and Corruptione Aristotle seems to reexamine the problem and discover difficulties that he was previously unaware of. The reason is the priority of the Category of ousia over the rest of the Categories. More specifically, it is the fact that no substance can have any quality, before it itself has come into being. Cette étude est consacrée à la solution aristotélicienne du paradoxe du non­être pendant le processus de la génération et de la corruption. Plus précisément, cet aspect du non­être concerne ce qui précède la génération et succède la corruption.1 Nous allons essayer d’établir que, bien que d’un certain point de vue le paradoxe disparaisse, l’argument à l’aide duquel il a été annulé constitue en lui même un paradoxe. Plus précisément nous allons argumenter que, bien que tout étant puisse être considéré comme généré à partir d’un autre étant,2 le fait que l’étant généré n’est pas l’étant à partir duquel il a été généré rend cette particulière dissolution du paradoxe problématique.3 Le problème est que, puisque les qualités d’un étant ne peuvent pas subsister séparément de son ousia, l’étant généré ne possède aucune propriété avant sa génération, et, par conséquent, aucun de ses “aspects” ne peut “préexister”. I Nous allons introduire le paradoxe du non­être selon la génération et la corruption à travers un passage qui nous semble constituer sa formulation la plus laconique.

1 2 3

Cf. Phys. 224b 7–10, De Gén. et Corr. 319a 28–29. L’argument de Phys. I, 8. La critique en De Gén. et Corr. I, 3.

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Phys. I, 191a 24–31: “En effet, les premiers qui s’adonnèrent à la philosophie, cherchant la vérité et la nature des êtres, furent détournés, comme s’ils avaient été poussés de force sur une mauvaise voie, par inhabileté; selon eux, nul être n’est engendré, ni détruit, parce que ce qui est engendré doit l’être nécessairement ou de l’être ou du non-être, deux solutions également impossibles: en effet, il ne peut être engendré de l’être, car il existe déjà ; et, rien ne peut être engendré du non-être; 5”6 (trad. Carteron – modifiée) L’“étant” (τὸ ὄν) ne peut pas avoir été généré. S’il avait été généré il devrait avoir été généré soit de l’étant soit du non­étant. Dans le premier cas il ne peut pas avoir été généré parce qu’il existait déjà. Dans le deuxième, il ne peut pas avoir été généré, parce que rien ne se produit à partir du non-être. Ergo, l’“étant” n’a pas été généré. Notons tout d’abord que le paradoxe n’est pertinent que si les deux conditions suivantes sont satisfaites. La première est l’adoption de la non-possibilité de la génération ex nihilo. Or, un penseur chrétien ne trouverait rien de paradoxal dans la possibilité selon laquelle l’étant a été généré à partir du non­étant. Selon quelques exégèses du Timée,7 Platon n’y trouverait rien de paradoxal non plus. La deuxième condition est qu’il faut (pour qu’il y ait paradoxe), être engagé à admettre la réalité de la génération et de la corruption dans le monde. Or, si le pro­ cessus de la génération et de la corruption se trouve substitué par un autre (par exemple, l’altération8), il n’y a plus aucun aspect paradoxal. En plus: le passage cité ci-dessus va constituer (selon cette dernière option) non plus un paradoxe mais un argument établissant la non-réalité de la génération est de la corruption. Bref, le passage constitue un paradoxe seulement s’il y a de la génération et de la corruption dans le monde, et si la génération ex nihilo est exclue. Pour Aristote c’était un paradoxe. Car, selon le Stagirite, non seulement la génération ex nihilo est exclue,9 mais aussi la génération et la corruption sont des processus du monde sublunaire.10 Néanmoins, il est vrai que la présentation du paradoxe telle qu’elle a été esquissée ci-dessus est vague et comporte plusieurs ambiguïtés. 4 5

6 7 8 9 10

Nous suivons la paraphrase de Ross. Cf. Ross (W. D.), Aristotle’s Physics, a revised text with Introduction and Commentary, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1936: 146. 27–31: […] καί φασιν οὔτε γίγνεσθαι τῶν ὄντων οὐδὲν οὔτε φθείρεσθαι διὰ τὸ ἀναγκαῖον μὲν εἶναι γίγνεσθαι τὸ γιγνόμενον ἢ ἐξ ὄντος ἢ ἐκ μὴ ὄντος, ἐκ δὲ τούτων ἀμφοτέρων ἀδύνατον εἶναι· οὔτε γὰρ τὸ ὂν γίγνεσθαι (εἶναι γὰρ ἤδη) ἔκ τε μὴ ὄντος οὐδὲν ἂν γενέσθαι· Dans d’autres passages Aristote considère que les anciens n’avaient reconnu comme “impossible” que la génération à partir du non-être, et c’est pourquoi ils ont admis celle à partir de l’être. Cf. Phys. I, 187a 32–37; Mét. Κ, 1062b 24–26. Concernant le passage sur la génération du cosmos (30a ss). Par “altération” nous allons rendre le terme grec ἀλλοίωσις, et par “changement” le terme μεταβολή. Cf. Mét. K, 1032b 30ss. Cf. Gén. et Corr., 335a 24ss.

22 “Cet étant n’a pas été généré en tant qu’étant”?

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Nous allons, par la suite, essayer de les élucider.11 En premier lieu la dénotation du terme τὸ γιγνόμενον (191a 28) n’est pas sans équivocité. Il y a deux possibilités d’interprétation. Soit il dénote l’univers tout entier, soit il dénote tout objet singulier qui a été ou va être généré. Selon le premier point de vue, le sujet logique est une description définie, et cette dernière dénote l’ensemble des étants.12 Selon le deuxième, il est une variable universellement quantifiée, ayant comme domaine le même ensemble.13 Une ambiguïté parallèle peut être tracée dans l’expression ἐξ ὄντος (i.e. à partir de l’étant). Car, cet “étant” à partir duquel l’“étant ne peut pas avoir été généré”,14 peut être soit l’univers, soit tout objet singulier, à partir duquel un étant a été ou va être généré. Par rapport au deuxième pôle de cette dernière ambiguïté, une ambiguïté supplémentaire peut être notée. Ce qui n’est pas clair c’est si cet étant à partir duquel l’étant généré ne peut pas provenir est ce même étant généré, ou n’importe quel objet qui existe.15 Abordons maintenant une dernière ambiguïté concernant l’expression ἐκ μὴ ὄντος (à partir du (d’un) non­étant). Ce “non-étant” à partir duquel l’“étant” ne peut pas avoir été généré est soit le non-être absolu (i.e. le néant), soit un non­être quelque chose. Ici encore, dans le premier cas, il s’agit de la génération du cos­ mos,16 tandis que dans le deuxième, il s’agit de la génération des objets singuliers. Conformément à l’ambiguïté complémentaire qu’on avait tracée ci-dessus, le nonêtre quelque chose du deuxième pôle de l’ambiguïté peut être soit un objet qui n’est pas identique à l’objet généré, soit tout objet singulier (i.e. tout objet qui possède une ousia). Autrement dit, le “quelque chose” dans l’expression “à partir du nonêtre quelque chose” peut dénoter soit l’ousia générée, soit toute ousia possible.17 11 12

13 14 15 16

17

Notre considération des ambiguïtés possibles sera ici plutôt “logique” qu’“exégétique”. La pertinence de certaines de ces ambiguïtés doit être abandonnée, si on fait appel à des critères contextuels et exégétiques. Pour la possibilité qu’il y ait des descriptions définies non seulement pour les objets singuliers, mais aussi pour les ensembles voir l’introduction de Quine du chapitre “Incomplete symbols: Descriptions” des Principia Mathematica de Russell et Whitehead, dans van Heijenoort (Jean) From Frege to Gödel, A Source Book in Mathematical Logic, 1879–1931, Cambridge Mass. Harvard UP, 1967: 216–217. Théoriquement, il est également possible que le sujet logique soit un nom propre qui porte le nom “étant”. Exégétiquement la seule interprétation possible est la deuxième. Cf. 191a 27: τῶν ὄντων. Puisqu’il existerait déjà. Cf. Ross (D. W.), Aristotle’s Physics … op. cit.: 494. Une sous-variante de cette interprétation est la génération d’un objet singulier qui provoque une différentiation quantitative dans un univers “déjà donné”. (Cf. MXG, 974a 5–9.) Cet objet aurait eu comme “provenance” le non-être absolu. Par rapport à cette sous-variante, il y a une simple manière d’éviter le paradoxe. Assumer qu’il y a un équilibre parfait dans le monde entre les générations et les corruptions des éléments et des objets singuliers (i.e. une forme du principe de la conservation de la matière). Aristote fait cette assomption. (Cf. Phys. III, 208a 8–11; Du Ciel, 286a 31–34; De Gén. et Corr., 318a 9–25, Météor., 339a 22ss, MXG, 975a 21–32, 975b 29–34, 976a 4–6.) Dans ces deux cas ce “quelque chose” est une variable universellement quantifiée. La différence est que dans le premier cas la variable prend la même valeur que la variable de l’objet généré. Plus techniquement les deux impossibilités correspondant aux deux pôles de l’am-

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II Toutes les ambiguïtés, présentées pendant le premier chapitre, peuvent souligner deux paradoxes biens distincts: (i) la génération de l’univers et (ii) la génération des objets singuliers. (i) Par rapport à la génération et la corruption de l’univers le paradoxe fait toujours référence à la génération ex nihilo. Une manière directe de l’attaquer est celle d’Aristote: nier que l’univers a été créé et qu’il va se corrompre.18 (ii) Par rapport à la génération et la corruption des objets singuliers il y a (exégétiquement) deux aspects paradoxaux possibles. Ceci est dû à l’“ambiguïté complémentaire” que nous avions tracée dans les expressions “à partir de l’étant” et “à partir du non-étant”. Car, l’aspect paradoxal dépend entièrement du sens qu’on attribue à ces expressions. Selon la première variante interprétative, ce qui serait un paradoxe est la génération d’un étant à partir de quelque chose qui n’existe pas (du tout).19 Selon la deuxième le paradoxe consiste en l’éventualité selon laquelle tout étant devrait être généré à partir d’un étant qui lui est identique (i.e. à partir de luimême). Autrement dit, selon cette dernière variante, le processus de la génération doit être nié car, si on l’affirmait, on aboutirait à la contradiction suivante: l’étant généré existait avant sa génération. Or, bien que les possibilités représentées par ces deux variantes soient en ellesmêmes paradoxales, il en reste une troisième. C’est possible que l’étant généré ne provient ni du néant, ni de lui­même. Il peut provenir d’un autre étant: de quelque chose qui n’est pas identique à l’étant généré, et qui, tout de même, existe. Puisque les deux autres possibilités sont paradoxales, et si on veut ne pas abolir le processus, cette troisième doit être assumée. En gros, la solution aristotélicienne consiste à assumer cette possibilité. Car, (le Stagirite le soutient) les philosophes archaïques avaient aboli la génération et la corruption, parce qu’ils avaient confondu l’usage qualifié avec l’usage non­qualifié du verbe être. Ils avaient ainsi cru que la génération des objets singuliers devrait procéder du non­être absolu, tandis qu’elle procède (en réalité) d’un étant qui, tout simplement, est différent de l’objet généré. Et ce dernier, selon l’option précédente, n’est ni engendré ex nihilo, ni “déjà étant” (avant sa génération). Aux yeux, donc, d’Aristote les “anciens” n’avaient appréhendé que l’un des deux pôles de l’ambiguïté des expressions “à partir de l’étant” et “à partir du non­étant”, et ceci les a amenés à la négation du processus. Selon Aristote la génération des objets singuliers, si elle provient bien du non­être, provient d’un non­être quelque chose, et ce dernier est un étant différent de l’objet généré. Comme nous l’avions signalé dès le début, Aristote va, dans le De la Généra­ tion et de la Corruption, mettre en doute cette solution, et, alors, le paradoxe sera pertinent, même dans le cas où tout étant se génère à partir d’un autre étant qui ne lui est pas identique.

18 19

biguïté sont: i)(∀x) (∀y) (x=y)→¬(xGy), ii) (∀x) (∀y) ¬(xGy). “… G …” représente la rélation “… a été généré de …”. Voir chap. III. i.e. qui est un non-être absolu.

22 “Cet étant n’a pas été généré en tant qu’étant”?

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La considération détaillée de ce point sera examinée plus tard.20 III Revenons pour le moment à la considération de la façon dont les “anciens” avaient abordé ce(s) paradoxe(s). S’il y a, dans les analyses aristotéliciennes, un caractère novateur par rapport à la dissolution du paradoxe, la nouveauté concerne seulement la génération et la corruption des objets singuliers. Par rapport à l’éventuelle génération et corruption de l’univers, de sa matière, ou de ses éléments fondamentaux,21 Aristote suit la “norme” des anciens: il nie la réalité du processus, soit en assumant qu’ils sont22 éternels, soit en le substituant par l’altération. Parfois, il nie le processus même pour les objets singuliers. (La solution présentée dans le premier livre de la Physique n’est pas la seule attestée dans le corpus, même si elle est la plus originale). Voyons les choses en détail. Une formule qui se répète constamment dans le corpus est que les “anciens” (i.e. les philosophes archaïques) avaient “peur” de l’éventualité de la génération à partir du néant et de la corruption en tant qu’anéantissement. De Gén. et Corr. I, 317b 29–3123: “[…] et ce dont les premiers philosophes n’ont cessé d’avoir peur: la génération peut avoir lieu sans qu’il y ait rien de préexistant”. (trad. Mugler – modifiée)

Et dans la Métaphysique: Mét. Κ, 1062b 24–26: “Que rien ne vient du non-être, et que tout vient de l’être, tel est le dogme commun de presque tous les philosophes de la nature.” (trad. personnelle)

Cette peur était, selon Aristote, une peur bien justifiée. Nous allons présenter dans la suite de ce chapitre deux “solutions” de cette impasse, qui, bien qu’elles aient la signature d’Aristote, visent à annuler le paradoxe en niant la réalité de la génération et de la corruption. Quelques-uns parmi les “anciens” ont choisi de nier la génération et la corruption sur la base de l’assomption qu’elle n’était (en réalité) qu’une altération d’un et seul élément: du seul élément de l’univers. De Gén. et Corr., 314b 1–3: “Quant à ceux qui construisent l’univers d’un seul élément, ils sont obligés de présenter la génération et la corruption comme des altérations; car le sous-jacent reste toujours identique et un. Le processus de ce genre est désigné par nous par le terme “altération”.24 (trad. Mugler – modifiée)

20 21 22 23 24

chap. X. Par “élément” nous allons rendre le terme grec στοιχεῖον. Cf. Du Ciel, 302a 14–19, Mét. Ζ, 1041b 31–33. Ces éléments fondamentaux sont le feu, la terre, l’air et l’eau. i.e. les éléments, la matière, l’univers. Cf. chap. XI. Cf. De Gér et Corr., 314a 8–11.

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Dans le cas où il y a dans l’univers plusieurs éléments la situation devient plus compliquée. La considération de ce cas présente (chez Aristote) deux aspects opposés. Même si le changement d’un élément à un autre n’est pas une “altération” mais une “génération et corruption”, cette dernière peut être réduite au processus de la “combinaison et séparation” (μίξις, διάλλαξις).25 De Gén. et Corr., 314b 4–8: “Pour ceux, au contraire, qui admettent plusieurs espèces , il y a une différence entre l’altération et la génération; car c’est au gré de la combinaison et de la séparation que la génération et la corruption se produisent chez eux.”26

Aristote lui-même, quand il envisage cet aspect du paradoxe partage parfois ces solutions. i) Par rapport à la génération et à l’éventuelle corruption de l’univers, il nie le processus dès le début: Du Ciel, 283b 26–28: “Ainsi donc le ciel, pris dans sa totalité, n’a pas eu de naissance et ne peut périr, malgré ce qu’en disent certains philosophes, mais il est unique et éternel;”27 (trad. Moraux)

Le monde existait depuis toujours et pour toujours continuera d’exister.28 ii) Concernant la nature de la transformation d’un élément à un autre Aristote considère souvent la possibilité qu’elle n’est une génération (et corruption) qu’en apparence: De Gén. et Corr., 318b 3–11: “Par exemple: le passage au feu est, peut-être, une génération simple (γένεσις ἁπλή) mais une corruption de quelque chose (φθορὰ τινός),29 à savoir de la terre, tandis que la génération de la terre est une génération de quelque chose et non une génération simple, elle est une corruption simple, à savoir du feu. Telle est également la théorie de Parménide, quand il mentionne deux : en disant que l’être ou le non-être sont le feu et la terre.”30(trad. Tricot = Mugler modifiée)31

Le feu est identifié à l’être tandis que la terre est le non­être. Quand le feu se transforme en terre, on a l’impression qu’il s’anéantit. Quand la terre se transforme en feu, on a l’impression qu’elle est née du néant. Or, ceci n’est qu’en apparence. En réalité, la terre n’existe pas moins que le feu, et ce changement n’est (en effet) qu’une altération. 25 26 27

28 29 30 31

Thèse attribuée à Empédocle. Cf. Cf. De Gér et Corr., 314a 11ss. Voir aussi MXG, 975b 6ss. Ce passage (situé au début du deuxième livre) est présenté par Aristote comme le résumé des conclusions des chapitres 10, 11, 12 du premier livre. Les arguments qui ont amené à ces conclusions sont identiques à ceux qui ont amené les “anciens” à nier le processus de la génération et de la corruption en général. Voir aussi Du Ciel, I, 270a 12–17, 277b 26ss. Cf. MXG, 974a 2–3. Pour les partisans de la présence chez la pensée du Philosophe de la prima materia, cette assomption doit être faite également pour la prima materia. Cf. Phys. I, 192a 28. Par rapport à la distinction entre génération “simple” et “de quelque chose”, voir chap. VIII. Cf. Mét. A, 986b 28– 987a 2. Mugler considère qu’il s’agit de la génération et la corruption des objets qui ont comme matière le feu et la terre. Cependant cette exégèse ne ressort du texte que si on adopte l’addition de Prantl à la ligne 318b 4: φθορὰ δὲ τινός.

22 “Cet étant n’a pas été généré en tant qu’étant”?

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Dans d’autres passages cette manière de nier la génération et la corruption des éléments est encore plus évidente: De Gén. et Corr., 318b 18–22: “Mais aux yeux de la plupart des gens la différence entre la génération et la corruption réside surtout à la différence entre le perceptible et le non-perceptible. Quand il y a changement en (une) matière sensible, on dit qu’il y a génération, quand il y a changement en (une) matière imperceptible, on parle de corruption. C’est qu’on distingue l’être et le non-être selon qu’on éprouve une sensation ou qu’on n’en éprouve pas, […]”32 (trad. Mugler – modifiée)

Ce qui donne l’impression qu’il y a de la génération et de la corruption est que l’étant est généré à partir du non­perceptible, et que sa corruption aboutit au non­perceptible. Le fait que ce à partir de quoi l’étant se génère, et ce à quoi il se corrompt soient imperceptibles, abolit le phénomène de la génération et de la cor­ ruption. Ou, pour le dire mieux, il ne l’abolit que pour ceux qui identifient l’être au percevoir. Et ces derniers penseurs n’avaient pas l’approbation aristotélicienne. Mét. Γ, 1010a 1–5: “[…] ils33 ont cru que les êtres étaient seulement les choses sensibles. Or, il y a dans les choses sensibles beaucoup d’indétermination et de cette sorte d’être que nous avons reconnu plus haut. C’est pourquoi ces philosophes parlent selon une certaine apparence de vérité, mais ils ne disent pas des choses vraies, […]” (trad. Tricot – modifiée)

iii) Puisque la qualité propre au feu est la chaleur, et la qualité propre à la terre est le froid, une même analogie peut être établie par rapport à ces deux qualités. Parva Naturalia: 478b 31–32: “Pour tous les êtres complets, la destruction a lieu à cause d’un défaut de quelque chaleur, […] (trad. Mugler; Belles Lettres) Parva Naturalia: 479a 29–33: “La naissance34 (γένεσις) est donc la première participation de l’âme nutritive à la chaleur, […] La mort et la destruction violente (τελευτὴ δὲ καὶ φθορὰ βίαιος) sont l’extinction et l’étouffement de la chaleur, […]”35 (trad. Mugler – modifiée)

Les trois façons de dissoudre le paradoxe que nous avons citées jusqu’ici36 partagent un point en commun: elles restent fidèles à la “norme” des anciens. L’éternité de l’univers et de ses éléments, la succession cyclique de ces derniers, ainsi que la localisation de la genèse et de la corruption dans le domaine de l’apparence, visent (en tant que façons de traiter du paradoxe), à la négation de la réalité de la généra­ tion et de la corruption. Le caractère novateur de l’analyse aristotélicienne ne se trouve pas dans la réfutation de la génération et de la corruption de l’univers, de ses éléments fonda­ 32 33 34 35 36

Voir aussi De Gén. et Corr., 318b 33–319a 17, 319b 10–19. Selon Alexandre il s’agit des présocratiques: Anaxagore, Empédocle, Parménide, Démocrite Protagoras. Étant donné le contexte, nous pensons que Mugler rend avec raison γένεσις par naissance, mais nous pensons aussi que par τελευτή Aristote entend (aussi manifestement) la mort. Mugler traduit par “la fin”, qui peut, bien sûr, avoir ce sens aussi. Voir aussi De Gén. et Corr., 336b 6–29, Météor., 379a 3–18. Pour que cette “citation” des diverses voies de dissoudre le paradoxe qui, bien qu’elles soient aristotéliciennes, restent fidèles à la norme des “anciens”, soit complète, il fallait additionner une variante qui pourrait être identifiée au principe de la conservation de la matière. Cette dernière voie répond surtout dans le MXG, et a affaire avec l’assomption qu’il y ait un équilibre parfait dans l’univers entre les générations et les corruptions.

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mentaux et de la matière indéfinie. Elle ne se trouve pas non plus dans la localisation du processus au domaine de l’apparence. Elle concerne la génération et la corruption des objets singuliers. IV Nous allons, dans cette partie, aborder la manière dont Aristote traite de la question de la génération des objets singuliers, en la considérant comme un cas particulier du paradoxe de la génération et de la corruption en général. Le trait caractéristique de la solution qu’il en propose est qu’elle n’est pas “archaïsante”. Cela signifie que le paradoxe ne s’annule pas par la négation ou la substitution du processus. Considérons alors, à travers un exemple proprement aristotélicien, le cas de la génération d’un objet singulier, et les difficultés qui en résultent. Soit un sculpteur en train (en gravant un morceau de marbre), de produire une statue d’Hermès.37 Quelqu’un aurait pu dire que le sculpteur en question n’est pas, en réalité, en train de faire venir la statue dans le monde. Il aurait pu dire, qu’en fait la statue était déjà là, dans le rocher, et que l’artiste n’a fait que l’“extraire”.38 N’est-il pas vrai (la même personne pourrait se demander) que la statue a été produite par des extractions consécutives de bouts de marbre? Or, et par rapport à cet argument, il y a quelque chose de troublant: si quelqu’un était en position de connaître tous les étants du monde,39 il ne connaîtrait la statue d’Hermès qu’après sa création. Dans le jargon de la logique on dirait que le quanti­ ficateur universel ne trouvera nul part (pendant son parcours de l’univers), la statue en question. Qu’est-ce donc qui fait que quand la statue “existe” dans le marbre, elle n’existe pas,40 et quand elle est extraite, elle existe? Car, il est clair que le morceau de marbre n’a pas subi une simple altération, comme ce serait le cas si sa surface avait été arrondie par les vagues de la mer. Le morceau a, selon toute évidence, changé d’ousia.41 Il était un morceau de marbre (ce particulier morceau de marbre) et il est devenu une (cette particulière) statue d’Hermès. Celui qui soutient que la statue était déjà dans le monde pourrait maintenant suivre une autre piste. Il aurait pu dire que la forme de la statue existait déjà dans l’âme de l’artiste, et que la génération de la statue n’était pas autre chose que la rencontre de la forme (qui était déjà présente dans l’âme de l’artiste), avec la ma­ 37

38 39 40 41

Cf. Phys., 190b 5–10, Mét. Δ, 1017b 6–9, Θ, 1048a 30–35. Les considérations qui émanent de l’“Hermès dans la pierre” et les analyses qui peuvent lui être appropriées occupent une très grande partie de la théorie aristotélicienne des dualités forme-matière et acte-puissance. Pendant notre première considération de cet exemple les références à ces analyses seront allusives. Des notes de bas de page indiqueront les endroits de ces arguments. Mét. Δ, 1017b 6–9. Contra Mét. Β, 1002a 20–23. Par rapport à la “présence” du généré dans ce qu’il l’a généré voir Phys., 235b 5–20, 235b 27ss. Bien évidement les êtres-en-acte et non pas les êtres-en-puissance. Cf. De Gén. et Corr., 327b 22–23. En tant qu’être-en-acte. Par rapport à l’identification du “changement de l’ousia” à la génération, voir chap. VI.

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tière qui l’a accueillie (le morceau de marbre).42 Mais même cet argument a quelque chose de troublant. Or, bien que l’essence de la statue puisse être identifiée à sa forme, la statue en tant qu’étant singulier ne le peut pas.43 Et ceci parce qu’elle est un objet ayant une matière, tandis que son essence ne dispose pas de matière. D’autant plus que la statue ne pourrait pas être identifiée à sa matière. Sinon, tout morceau de marbre serait une statue d’Hermès. Dès lors, le problème est le suivant: après la création de la statue, la statue ne cesse pas d’être un morceau de marbre; elle dispose aussi d’une forme, et cette dernière est la forme d’une statue. Or, tandis qu’avant le travail du sculpteur on trouvait une matière et une forme, après on trouve (i) une matière, (ii) une forme et (iii) quelque chose à part: leur rencontre. Cette dernière “chose” n’est autre que la statue d’Hermès.44 Et, de plus, elle n’est pas l’issue d’une rencontre quelconque, comme l’est un tas de petits cailloux;45 elle est issue d’une rencontre qui fait que son résultat est quelque chose d’autre que l’ensemble de ses parties: un objet singulier qui n’existait pas auparavant.46 Pendant la considération de l’exemple de l’“Hermès dans la pierre”, nous avions essayé de suivre des arguments aristotéliciens pour soutenir une thèse qui n’est pas aristotélicienne. La réfutation de ces arguments était aussi basée sur des arguments aristotéliciens. La thèse qui n’est pas aristotélicienne est que la statue n’a pas été générée, mais que sa génération peut être réduite à l’altération de quelque chose qui préexistait. Cependant, tous les arguments présentés (soit en faveur, soit contre cette thèse), peuvent être repérés dans le corpus. À nos yeux c’est clair que toute cette controverse n’est en réalité qu’un dialogue entre deux personae d’Aristote lui-même. Dès lors, au cas où nous n’aurions pas été complètement infidèles à l’esprit de l’argumentation aristotélicienne, il faut se poser la question suivante. Pourquoi Aristote tout en voulant établir la réalité de la génération et de la corrup­ tion, suit-t-il une voie argumentative si ambivalente? La réponse est, nous semble-t-il, assez évidente. Ce qu’Aristote veut exclure est la génération ex nihilo et la corruption en tant qu’anéantissement. Une telle exclusion nécessite que pendant le processus de la génération et de la corruption, il y ait “quelque chose qui persiste”, et cette dernière “chose” ne peut pas être que “sousjacente” (avant, pendant et après le processus). S’il y a une telle “chose”, l’objet généré ne proviendra pas du néant et ne s’anéantira pas non plus. De l’autre côté, pour qu’il y ait de la génération et de la corruption il ne faut pas que l’objet généré existe déjà dans le monde avant sa propre génération, et il ne faut pas non plus que l’objet corrompu persiste après sa corruption. Ces deux contraintes amènent à la conclusion suivante. Quel que soit ce sous­jacent, il ne peut pas être l’objet en question. Comme nous avions vu dans le premier chapitre il y a deux sens selon lesquels on peut dire que quelque chose “provient” ou “ne provient pas” du non­être. Reve42 43 44 45 46

Cf. De An. 403b 1–19. Au sujet de la non-identification des êtres matériels à leur essence, voir Mét. Ζ, 1029a 1–7. Mét. Ζ, 1033a 5–24. Mét. Ζ, 1041b 12. Par tas nous traduisons le terme σωρός. La forme et la matière sont des parties de l’objet singulier. Voir Mét. D, 1023b 20–25.

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nons maintenant à ces considérations en les appliquant à la génération des objets singuliers. Selon l’un de ces sens “provenir du non-être” est synonyme d’“être généré”. Soit un objet généré à un moment t. “Provenir du non-être” veut dire, selon ce sens, que l’objet n’existait pas avant le moment t. Selon un autre sens “provenir du non-être” veut dire “avoir été généré là où il n’y avait rien” (i.e. dans un univers vide), ou bien, que la génération de l’objet a entraîné une altération quantitative dans un univers non vide. Ces deux derniers sens représentent la génération ex ni­ hilo.47 La matière, si elle est considérée comme ce qui est sous­jacent pendant toutes les formes de changement (la génération et la corruption incluses48), peut amener à la dissolution du paradoxe de la génération ex nihilo. Cela dit: elle peut amener à la dissolution du paradoxe selon le deuxième sens de l’expression “provenir du non­ être”. Moyennant l’assomption que pendant toute forme de changement le principe de la conservation de la matière est respecté, on peut conclure que rien49 ne se génère ex nihilo, et que rien ne s’anéantit. Dès lors, non seulement “toute chose”50 est générée dans un univers qui n’est pas vide, mais aussi aucune génération (ou corruption) n’altère la quantité de la matière universelle. Cette matière qui peut “jouer le rôle” du sous­jacent pendant les divers processus de changement est la matière du premier livre de la Physique.51 Elle reste sous-jacente non seulement pendant la transformation d’un des éléments à un autre, ou pendant l’altération des qualités d’un objet singulier, mais aussi pendant la génération et la corruption de ces derniers. Et ce n’est que dans ce sens qu’on peut affirmer que les objets singuliers ne se génèrent pas ex nihilo, et ne s’anéantissent pas: avant et après le processus de la génération et de la corruption il y a une matière (indéfinie) qui reste sous-jacente. Du fait même qu’elle y reste sous­jacente, on peut inférer que l’objet n’a pas été généré à partir du néant, et qu’il ne va pas s’anéantir. Voyons maintenant pourquoi cette même matière ne suffit pas pour résoudre le paradoxe selon le premier sens de l’expression “provenir du non­être”. Soit un objet qui a été généré dans un univers non-vide.52 Soit encore, pendant ce processus, la quantité de la matière universelle préservée. Dans quel sens une telle éventualité pourrait-elle désarmer le paradoxe, (selon le premier sens de “provenir du non-être”)? C’est clair que l’existence n’a pas été héréditée (comme si elle était un titre de noblesse), de l’objet corrompu à l’objet généré. En plus, si l’objet qui a été généré à t, dispose (à t) de n propriétés, aucune de ces propriétés ne pouvait être une propriété de cet objet avant t. Aucun de ses “aspects” n’existait auparavant (en tant qu’aspect du même objet). 47 48 49 50 51 52

Voir chap. I, II. Pour la génération et la corruption en tant que formes de changement voir Phys., 324b 35 – 325a 12, De Gén. et Corr., 317a 20–27, 319b 31 – 320a 5, 321a 22–24. Nous ne disons pas “aucun objet” parce qu’ici ce qui ne se génère pas ex nihilo peut être aussi un élément, un ensemble d’objets etc. “Toute chose”, non pas seulement dans le sens de “tout objet singulier”. Voir ci-dessus. Voir Phys., I, 7–9; notamment, 191a 6–14, 192a 25–34. En tant qu’“univers vide” nous ne faisons pas entendre seulement un univers sans aucun objet (i.e. le sens standard dans la logique), mais, en plus, un univers sans aucune matière sous-jacente aux objets (possibles).

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L’ambiguïté de l’expression “provenir du non-être” est (d’une façon indirecte), parente d’une ambiguïté qui concerne le terme ὑποκείμενον. Mét. Ζ, 1038b 4–6: “Nous avons dit que le sujet s’entend de deux manières, soit de l’être déterminé, comme l’animal, sous-jacent à ses attributs, soit de la matière, sous-jacente à l’entéléchie.”53 (trad. Tricot)

Le sous­jacent en tant que matière peut rendre intelligible le fait qu’il y ait des générations et des corruptions dans le monde sans qu’elles soient des générations ex nihilo ou des anéantissements. Or, cette “capacité” du sous­jacent ne se trouve élaborée que dans le premier livre de la Physique et le deuxième livre du De la Génération et de la Corruption.54 Dès que la discussion se déplace dans des contextes catégoriaux55 la matière n’est plus en rien un sous-jacent. Elle est une parmi les qualités des objets singuliers.56 Et dans ces mêmes contextes ce sont ces derniers qui sont les seuls sous­jacents.57 Revenons maintenant au processus de la génération et de la corruption. Comme nous l’avons déjà vu, pendant la génération et la corruption d’un objet singulier, le sous-jacent (si sous-jacent il y a) ne peut pas être l’objet lui-même. S’il l’était, il n’y aurait ni génération, ni corruption (de l’objet). D’où le problème suivant: pour annuler le paradoxe selon le premier sens de l’expression “provenir du non-être”58 il faudra assumer que quelques-unes des qualités de l’objet existaient déjà dans l’objet corrompu (i.e. dans un autre objet). Il faut donc que les qualités de l’objet puissent subsister séparément de lui (pour qu’elles puissent être sous­jacentes). Or, aucune qualité ne peut être séparée de l’ousia. Dans le cadre du schéma catégorial ce n’est que l’ousia qui peut être sous­jacente.59 Mais si l’ousia est sous-jacente, il n’y a ni génération, ni corruption. *** Nous sommes ainsi arrivés à un point où nous pouvons présenter plus concrètement l’évolution de notre argument. Vers la fin du chapitre VII (191a 23–24) de la Physique I, Aristote (en assumant l’exactitude des analyses qui ont précédé) annonce qu’il a trouvé une issue pour sortir de l’impasse des “anciens”. Cette issue a été trouvée grâce à des arguments qui utilisaient les notions de la matière des contraires et de la privation, et elle concernait l’annulation du paradoxe selon le deuxième sens de la “génération qui 53

54 55 56 57 58 59

[…] καὶ τοῦ ὑποκειμένου, ὅτι διχῶς ὑπόκειται, ἢ τόδε τι ὄν, ὥσπερ τὸ ζῷον τοῖς πάθεσιν, ἢ ὡς ἡ ὕλη τῇ ἐντελεχείᾳ) […] Asclepius sugère que par τόδε τι Aristote entend ici le genre en tant que sous-jacent à ces espèces. Quant à nous, nous sommes plutôt d’accord avec Alexandre pour qui la signification du terme est ici bien plus vaste: […] ζῷον, Σωκράτης, Πλάτων. Voir aussi Mét. Η, 1042a 25–28. Voir par exemple De Gén. et Corr., 329a 24–27. Voir chap. IX. Voir Mét. Z, 1029a 1ss. Phys. I, 185a 31–32. C’est-à-dire: pour annuler le paradoxe dans le cadre des analyses catégoriales. Soit en tant qu’essence, soit en tant que substance. Sur ce point voir chap. VI, XI.

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provient du non-être”. Or, Aristote revendique (au même endroit) que cet argument reste valide en ce qui concerne le premier sens: Phys. I, 190b 1–3: “Mais que (aussi) les substances (οὐσίαι) et tout ce qui est sans qualification (καὶ ὄσα ἄλλα ἁπλῶς ὄντα) se génèrent à partir d’un certain sous-jacent (ἐξ ὑποκειμένου τινὸς γίνεται), apparaît évident à l’examen.” (trad. Carteron – modifiée)

Pour appuyer cette revendication, il passe d’un discours concernant la matière à un discours qui utilise des outils de la théorie des catégories (i.e. l’exemple du médecin et l’adverbe ᾗ). Or, du moment où ce déplacement est effectué, le sous­jacent n’est plus la ma­ tière mais l’ousia. La matière (de l’objet) est désormais une de ses qualités, qui ne peut pas subsister séparément de lui.60 Nous allons argumenter par la suite que ce déplacement a entraîné l’annulation de l’issue trouvée, et que les arguments présentés par Aristote après ce déplacement ne sont pas convaincants. Notre critique va être basée sur le troisième livre du De la Génération et de Corruption, où (nous semble-t-il), Aristote lui-même se réfère (en les annulant) aux arguments de la Physique I, 8. V Nous avons considéré jusqu’ici deux ambiguïtés qui, bien qu’elles se réfèrent à deux expressions morphologiquement aliénées, présentent une certaine parenté. “Provenir du non-être” (par rapport à un objet) veut dire soit ne pas avoir existé avant sa génération, soit avoir été généré ex nihilo. Le “sous-jacent” est soit la matière indéfinie de la Physique I, soit l’objet singulier lui­même (ou l’essence de l’objet). La matière en tant que sous­jacente peut amener à la dissolution du paradoxe de la génération ex nihilo. L’ousia, si elle est considérée comme sous­jacente, amène au soulèvement de l’aporie suivante: comment est-il possible qu’aucun aspect de l’objet (en tant qu’aspect de cet objet), n’ait pas existé avant sa génération? D’un certain point de vue ce dernier paradoxe est encore une variante de la génération ex nihilo. Mais avant de considérer en détail cette réintégration du paradoxe nous allons voir comment la parenté des deux ambiguïtés présentées ci-dessus se manifeste dans les textes. En Physique I, bien que la matière soit considérée comme non­être, elle n’est pas définie comme “non­être absolu”. Cette dernière caractérisation ne convient qu’à la privation.61 Phys. I, 192a 2–5: “Pour nous, en effet, nous disons que la matière et la privation sont à distinguer et que, de ces deux choses, l’une est un non-être par accident (οὐκ ὂν εἶναι κατὰ συμβεβηκός), à savoir la matière; l’autre, à savoir la privation, est un non-être par soi (καθ’ αὑτήν ).” (trad. Carteron) 60 61

i.e. elle ne peut pas subsister séparément de lui en tant que matière de cet objet. Sur ce point voir chap. VI. À nos yeux ce qu’Aristote entend par les termes οὐκ ὂν εἶναι κατὰ συμβεβηκός (non-être par accident) et καθ’ αὑτήν (par soi) – par rapport à la façon dont la privation est “non-être” – n’est pas tout à fait clair. Ce qui selon nous est évident, c’est que la raison pour laquelle la matière indéfinie peut être conçue comme “sous-jacent” est qu’elle n’est pas en soi non-être.

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Une fois que la matière est toujours sous­jacente, aucune génération n’est une génération ex nihilo et aucune corruption un anéantissement. *** Dans le premier livre du De la Génération et de la Corruption le sous-jacent n’est plus la matière, mais l’objet singulier (l’ousia), et ce dernier ne peut pas rester sous-jacent pendant la génération et la corruption. Sinon, la génération et la corrup­ tion seraient des mouvements. Or, la génération et la corruption, bien qu’elles soient des espèces du (genre) changement, ne sont pas des mouvements. Voyons les choses en détail. Au début il est supposé qu’il y a quatre espèces possibles de mouvement. Phys. V, 225a 2–6: “[…] ce qui change peut changer en quatre sens: ou d’un (ἐξ) sous-jacent62 vers (εἰς) un sous-jacent, ou d’un sous-jacent vers un non-(sous-jacent), ou d’un non-(sous-jacent) vers un sous-jacent, ou d’un non-(sous-jacent) vers un non-(sous-jacent);” (trad. Carteron – modifiée)

Le “changement” qui part du non-(sous-jacent) et va au non-(sous-jacent) est aboli dès le début. Non seulement il n’est pas un mouvement, il n’est même pas un changement: Phys. V, 225a 10–12: “car celui qui va d’un non-(sous-jacent) vers un non-(sous-jacent) n’est pas un changement, parce qu’il n’y a pas là de rapport d’opposition: il n’y a en effet ni contrariété (ἐναντία) ni contradiction (ἀντίφασις) entre les deux termes.” (trad. Carteron – modifiée)

Le changement qui part du non­(sous­jacent) pour aboutir au sous­jacent, ne peut pas être un mouvement proprement dit. S’il l’était, l’objet qui est supposé ne pas être sous-jacent, devrait (en réalité) être sous-jacent. La raison de ceci est que tout objet qui est en train de se mouvoir reste, tout au long de son mouvement, sous­ja­ cent. Or, par rapport à ce changement, l’objet n’est pas toujours sous-jacent. Cette espèce de changement est la génération. Phys. V, 225a 12–14: “Maintenant, le changement qui va d’un non-(sous-jacent) à un sous-jacent selon la contradiction est la génération:” (trad. Carteron – modifiée)

Le changement qui part du sous-jacent pour aboutir au non-(sous-jacent), ne peut pas non plus constituer un mouvement. Sinon, l’objet devrait être sous-jacent, quand il n’est plus sous-jacent (i.e. après la fin du processus). Cette espèce du changement est la corruption. Phys. V, 225a 17–18: “Le changement qui va d’un sous-jacent à un non-(sous-jacent) est la corruption:” (trad. Carteron – modifiée)

Ces exclusions consécutives ne laissent qu’une seule forme de mouvement possible: celle qui part du sous-jacent et aboutit au sous-jacent.

62

Simplicius remarque qu’Aristote n’entend pas ici par “sous-jacent” seulement la substance.

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Doukas Kapantaïs Phys. V, 225a 33–b2: “Comme tout mouvement est un changement, et qu’il y a trois changements (on les a dits), et enfin que les changements selon la génération et la corruption ne sont pas des mouvements mais des changements selon la contradiction, il est nécessaire que, seul, le changement de sous-jacent à sous-jacent soit mouvement.” (trad. Carteron – modifiée).

La seule espèce du changement qui est aussi un mouvement est le dernier. Dès lors, parmi tous les changements, ceux qui seront des mouvements, seront ceux qui appartiennent à cette espèce. Ces derniers sont: le mouvement selon l’espace, le mou­ vement selon la qualité et le mouvement selon la quantité: Phys. V, 225b 5–9: “Si donc les catégories se divisent en substance, qualité, lieu, temps, relation, quantité, action et passion, il doit y avoir trois mouvements, celui de la qualité, celui de la quantité, celui qui est selon le lieu.” (trad. Carteron)

Ce sont précisément ces analyses qui sont “sous-jacentes”, quand Aristote identifie (dans le De la Génération et de la Corruption) l’altération avec l’une de ces espèces de mouvement, en laissant, par conséquent, la génération et la corruption en dehors de cette espèce: De Gén. et Corr. I, 319b 31 – 320a2: “Ainsi dans l’ordre de la quantité, le changement de contraire à contraire, c’est l’accroissement et le décroissement; selon le lieu, c’est la translation; selon la qualité et le pathos, (κατὰ πάθος καὶ τὸ ποιόν 63) l’altération; mais si rien ne subsiste de ce dont l’autre terme est un pathos ou, en général, un accident, c’est d’une part génération et d’autre part corruption.”64 (trad. Tricot – modifiée)

D’où, bien sûr, le paradoxe selon le premier sens de l’expression “provenir du nonêtre”. Puisque la génération n’est aucune altération, il faut envisager le fait que l’objet généré n’existait pas avant sa génération (i.e. qu’il n’était pas sous-jacent). On aurait pu penser ici que, conformément à la Physique I, le paradoxe pourrait disparaître grâce à la matière indéfinie qui reste sous­jacente pendant les générations et les corruptions des objets singuliers. Or, c’est exactement cet argument qui n’est plus évoqué. Une fois que l’ousia est dotée du rôle du sous-jacent, la matière n’est plus la matière indéfinie. Elle est un “aspect” de l’objet, et elle peut être altérée sans que l’objet lui-même disparaisse. De plus, le sous-jacent ne peut pas être à la fois la matière indéfinie et une qualité de l’objet parmi d’autres. Ceci est parce que dans les arguments où les ousiai sont considérées comme des sous­jacents, elles sont aussi considérées comme les seuls sous­jacents.65 Comme nous verrons par la suite, Aristote va chercher ailleurs pour un argument qui fera disparaître ce nouveau paradoxe. Cette solution va être appuyée sur une décomposition des aspects de l’objet à travers les catégories.

63 64 65

En Cat. 9b 28–29, Aristote dit que si les qualités d’un objet ont une durée courte, elles doivent être appelées πάθη et non pas ποιότηται. Nous pensons que (dans ce passage du De la Génération et de la Corruption), il fait référence à cette distinction. Cf. Mét. Κ, 1068a 9–11. Voir Cat., 2a 11–14.

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VI Revenons pour le moment à l’exemple de la statue d’Hermès. On pourrait penser, afin de résoudre le paradoxe de sa génération, que la statue, bien qu’elle provienne d’un étant (i.e. du morceau de marbre) qui ne peut pas lui être identifié, ne provient pas du néant. Nous avons déjà signalé que, dans le cas où la discussion prend place à l’intérieur de la théorie des catégories, cette solution ne peut pas résoudre le problème. Examinons maintenant en détail pourquoi. La raison se trouve dans la place prédominante dont dispose dans la théorie des catégories la catégorie de l’ousia. Selon la “solution” proposée ci-dessus, le paradoxe se dissout du fait que la statue n’a pas été générée à partir du néant, mais qu’elle a, pour ainsi dire, succédé un autre étant (i.e. le morceau de marbre). Assumons, pour le moment, cet argument et développons-le d’avantage. Disons que la statue dispose de plusieurs qualités, et que toutes ces qualités peuvent être exprimées dans le discours prédicatif. La statue occupe un topos, dispose d’une matière (marbre), se trouve en relation avec d’autres étants66 (le sculpteur) etc. Cet objet singulier qui est le morceau de marbre dispose aussi de qualités à lui qui peuvent (elles aussi) être exprimées via les dix modes de prédication possibles: les dix catégories. Constatons finalement que le morceau de marbre et la statue partagent en commun l’une de ces qualités. Ils partagent en commun leur matière, le marbre. On pourrait ici essayer de développer l’argument suivant: les qualités dont dispose chaque objet ne restent pas toujours invariables. Prenons comme exemple la statue d’Hermès: pendant l’antiquité elle était (peut-être) colorée, de nos jours elle ne l’est plus. Cependant, ce changement n’a pas entraîné la corruption de la statue. Elle est toujours sous-jacente. Or, si les dix catégories représentent les dix modes de prédication, et si chaque prédicat dénote une propriété de l’étant dénoté par le sujet, l’ousia (tout en étant une propriété) peut varier, sans qu’il soit nécessaire que toutes les autres qualités subissent des variations. Dans notre exemple une qualité qui est restée invariable est celle de la matière. On pourrait ainsi dire que l’étant (la statue) ne provient pas du non­étant, justement parce que, même si son ousia n’était pas (avant la génération de la statue), son essence actuelle, quelques-unes parmi ses qualités étaient les mêmes. Si on fait l’assomption complémentaire que chaque étant peut être identifié à la conjonction de ses qualités, on doit conclure que la statue d’Hermès ne provient pas du néant, juste parce qu’au moins l’une parmi ses qualités existait déjà (avant sa génération). Et selon cette perspective ce sont les qualités partagées en commun entre le morceau du marbre et la statue qui constituent ce sous­jacent. Si tel sousjacent il y a, la génération de la statue (en tant que génération d’un objet singulier) n’a pas été ex nihilo.

66

Par rapport à la catégorie du πρός τι.

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Bref, puisque l’ousia est une catégorie, elle peut (elle aussi) varier sans que les étants qui subissent cette variation cessent d’être des étants. Le morceau de marbre n’est pas moins étant que la statue d’Hermès. La seule chose qui a changé est l’ou­ sia. Tout cet argument s’effondre, dès qu’on se demande quel était l’étant qui a subi cette transformation. Autrement dit, l’argument se prouve défaillant, dès qu’on se pose la question de savoir quel était le sous-jacent dont la catégorie de l’essence a changé. Le problème est que, bien que les qualités de l’étant puissent varier sans que l’étant cesse d’être sous-jacent, l’essence ne le peut pas. La raison en est simple: Si l’essence change, il ne s’agit plus du même étant. Et, puisqu’il ne s’agit plus du même étant, les qualités de l’étant qui a été généré ne peuvent pas avoir déjà existé. Elles existaient, certes, mais en tant que qualités d’un autre étant. Pour dire la même chose autrement, l’argument est invalide parce qu’il traite des qualités comme si elles étaient les sous-jacents sur lesquelles se succèdent plusieurs es­ sences. De deux choses l’une: Soit (i) on garde sous­jacent l’étant qui subit le changement;67 n’importe quel que soit le changement qu’on effectue, les qualités qui l’ont subi sont des qualités du même étant. Soit (ii) on assume que pendant le changement l’étant se corrompt;68 les qualités de l’étant qui le “succède” ne peuvent pas avoir déjà existé en tant que qualités de l’étant généré. Ergo: pour qu’une qualité puisse rester invariable, avant et après un processus de changement, il faut que l’étant qui le subisse reste sous-jacent. S’il ne le reste pas, même si la qualité est la même, elle est une qualité d’un autre étant. Nous pensons que toute l’analyse précédente est corroborée par l’une des formules centrales de la théorie des catégories. Mét. Ζ, 1028a 22–24: οὐδὲν γὰρ αὐτῶν ἐστὶν οὔτε καθ’ αὑτὸ [πεφυκὸς]69 οὔτε χωρίζεσθαι δυνατὸν τῆς οὐσίας, “car aucun de ces étants n’a la nature de l’existence par soi,71 ni ne peut être séparé de la substance,” (trad. pesonnelle)

Les qualités ne peuvent pas être séparées de l’ousia.72 D’où on obtient que les passions (πάθη) ne peuvent pas préexister avant la génération de l’étant dont elles sont des passions, et qu’elles ne peuvent pas persister après sa corruption. Ce point dispose d’une place centrale dans notre analyse, et nous allons y insister un peu plus, même s’il est, peut-être, déjà assez clair. 67 68 69 70 71 72

Ou on garde sous-jacente l’essence de l’étant qui subit le changement. Comme nous allons voir par la suite une altération de l’essence équivaut à la corruption d’un étant et la génération d’un autre. Voir note précédente. secl. chez la lecture d’Alexandre. Nous pensons que le αὐτῶν fait référence au τῶν οὕτω κατηγορουμένων de la ligne 1027b 13. “n’existe pas par soi”, selon la lecture d’Alexandre. Pour d’autres formulations de cette thèse voir chap. VI.

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Considérons un deuxième exemple. Quelqu’un aurait pu penser que l’exemple du morceau du marbre et de la statue prête à confusion, parce que les descriptions définies qui dénotent à la fois le morceau de marbre et la statue ne sont pas assez “définies”.73 Le cas du vin et du vinaigre74 peut nous procurer d’un meilleur exemple. Soit une bouteille de vin restée pour longtemps sous le soleil et devenue une bouteille de vinaigre.75 L’argument qui a été prouvé défaillant dans l’exemple précédent, ici semble valide. Afin d’en mieux saisir les étapes nous allons ici adopter l’abréviation suivante. Nous allons décomposer les qualités du vinaigre et du vin (conformément au schéma catégorial), et nous les distinguerons en qualités qui sont à la fois des qua­ lités du vin et du vinaigre, et en qualités qui ne sont des qualités que du vin ou que du vinaigre. Si la qualité x est une qualité partagée par le vin et le vinaigre, on dira que le vinaigre n’a pas été généré en tant que x.76 Si la qualité y n’appartient qu’au vinaigre nous dirons que le vinaigre a été généré en tant que y.77 Par exemple: on dira que le vinaigre n’a pas été généré en tant que liquide. Cependant, on dira que le vinaigre a été généré en tant qu’acide; le vin n’était pas acide. Cette paraphrase a, nous semble-t-il, des fondements solides dans l’intuition. Ce serait bien sensé, pour quelqu’un qui va ouvrir la bouteille et goûter son contenu, de dire: “Tiens c’est acide, il est devenu du vinaigre!” Par contre ce ne serait pas bien sensé, si la même personne disait: “Tiens, c’est liquide, il est devenu du vinaigre!” Le contenu de la bouteille était liquide même avant qu’il devienne du vinaigre. La même paraphrase a aussi des fondements dans la terminologie aristotélicienne. Car, l’adverbe ᾗ dans une expression du type X ᾗ Y, où X est une variable d’étant et Y une variable de qualité, fait abstraction de toute autre qualité de X, sauf Y.78 Considérons maintenant notre dernier exemple. La raison pour laquelle il semble être pertinent est que le vinaigre n’a pas été généré en tant qu’étant (ᾗ ὄν), exactement pour les mêmes raisons qu’il n’a pas été généré en tant que liquide. Le contenu de la bouteille existait bel et bien avant qu’il devienne du vinaigre. Ou, pour le dire mieux, il y avait quelque chose dans la bouteille avant même qu’il y ait du vinaigre. Si, par exemple, “être identique à soi-même” est une propriété caractéristique de tout étant, le vinaigre n’est pas plus identique à lui­même que le vin: le 73 74 75 76 77 78

Comme par exemple la description “le morceau de marbre qui occupe tel ou tel lieu”. Le lieu “occupé” par le morceau change pendant les extractions effectuées par le sculpteur. Mét. Η, 5–6. Nous assumons que l’altération est spontanée (ἀθρόα), et que même si elle ne l’est pas, à chaque instant t, le contenu de la bouteille sera soit du vin, soit du vinaigre. Pour une justification de ces assomptions voir Phys. VI, 240a 19–29, VIII, 263b 9–28. Plus précisément si x est un terme dénotant une qualité, et si on affirme que (i) “le vinaigre est (copulatif) x” et que (ii) “le vin est x”, alors on affirme que (iii) “le vinaigre n’a pas été généré en tant que x”. On pourra aussi dire que si la qualité x appartient seulement au vin, le vin a été corrompu en tant en x, ou encore que le vinaigre a été généré en tant que non-x, etc. Voir chapitre VIII.

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contenu de la bouteille n’était pas moins identique à lui­même, avant qu’il devienne du vinaigre. Mais même dans cet argument il y a un problème. Le problème est qu’il n’est pas évident de dire quel est l’étant qui a été généré (ou altéré). Si c’est l’étant dénoté par la description définie “le contenu de cette bouteille”, l’essence de cet étant devrait être exprimée par la définition suivante: “être contenu dans cette bouteille”. “Être vinaigre” et “être vin” deviennent ainsi des qualités de ce même étant qui reste toujours sous-jacent. De l’autre côté, si les étants en question sont dénotés par les descriptions définies “le vin qui se trouve dans cette bouteille” et “le vinaigre qui se trouve dans cette bouteille”, il n’y a, pendant ce changement, aucune substance sous-jacente,79 et alors la liquidité n’est pas plus une qualité du vinaigre avant le changement, que le marbre ne l’était par rapport à la statue. La raison en est la même. La liquidité ne pouvait pas être une qualité du vinaigre, avant qu’il y ait du vinaigre. Elle était une qualité d’autre chose. Dès lors, même si le vin n’était pas moins identique à lui-même que le vinaigre, et même si “être identique à soi-même” est une propriété caractéristique de l’étant en tant qu’étant, on ne peut pas dire que le vinaigre n’a pas été généré en tant qu’étant. Avant “sa” transformation, “il” était autre chose, et cette “autre chose” était, certes, identique à elle-même, mais elle n’était pas du vinaigre. N’arrivons-nous pas ainsi à la formule d’Aristote telle qu’elle a été citée auparavant? À savoir à la formule exprimant qu’aucune qualité d’aucun objet ne peut subsister séparément de ce même objet. Les catégories ne peuvent pas subsister séparément de l’ousia. Cat., 2b 5–6: μὴ οὐσῶν οὖν τῶν πρώτων οὐσιῶν ἀδύνατον τῶν ἄλλων τι εἶναι. “Si les substances n’existent, aucune qualité n’existe” (trad. personnelle)

Les autres catégories expriment les qualités de ces sous-jacents, et, par conséquent, elles ne peuvent pas exister à part. En plus, ce point de vue est le seul, nous semble-t-il, qui puisse expliquer pourquoi, selon Aristote, le vin n’est pas du vinaigre en puissance. Mét. Η, 1044b 34–36: “Une difficulté (ἀπορία) encore est de savoir pourquoi le vin n’est ni la matière du vinaigre, ni le vinaigre en puissance, et cependant, c’est du vin que vient le vinaigre;” (trad. Tricot)

Si on n’assume pas les conclusions précédentes, on ne peut pas expliquer pourquoi le vin n’est pas du “vinaigre en puissance”. La seule façon, nous semble-t-il, d’interpréter adéquatement le passage est de considérer qu’Aristote entend ici que le vin n’est pas du “vinaigre en puissance”, parce que dès qu’“il” devient du vinaigre, “il” n’est plus du vin, et, que, par conséquent, “être vinaigre” n’est pas une qualité pos­ sible du vin. Le même vaut pour les autres exemples utilisés par Aristote, pour établir le même point: Un homme n’est pas “un mort en puissance”, parce que le mort n’est un homme que par homonymie. Le jour n’est pas “la nuit en puissance”, parce que quand il fait nuit, il ne fait plus jour. 79

Par conséquent ce changement n’est pas une altération.

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Si maintenant on regroupe les conclusions précédentes, on voit que, puisque les affections d’un objet ne peuvent exister séparément de cet objet, et, puisque l’existence d’un objet ne peut pas être transmise à un autre, l’étant généré provient du non-être.80 Ce non­être est un non­être absolu. Car ce n’est pas seulement l’objet généré qui n’existait pas avant sa génération; ce sont aussi l’ensemble de ses qualités. Pour surmonter donc le paradoxe, on doit assumer que le non­être existe! Mét. Κ, 1067b 33–34: ἀλλ’ ὅμως ἀληθὲς εἰπεῖν ὅτι ὑπάρχει τὸ μὴ ὂν κατὰ τοῦ γιγνομένου ἁπλῶς […] “ce serait, par contre, vrai de dire que le ‘non-être’ peut être prédiqué à ce qui se génère de manière non-qualifiée” (trad. personnelle)

Cette assomption est à peine moins paradoxale que le paradoxe qu’elle résout. VII Nous avons vu pendant le chapitre précédent que la génération et la corruption des objets singuliers pose le problème suivant: l’existence du non-être. Si rien ne peut être généré du non-être, et si rien ne peut s’anéantir, il faut faire l’assomption paradoxale que le non-être qui précède la génération et qui succède la corruption existe. Nous avons aussi signalé que dès que la discussion du problème abandonne la tripartition matière­contraires­privation,81 afin d’utiliser le schéma des catégories, le sous-jacent devient l’objet singulier et non pas la matière. Cette dernière est désormais une qualité de l’objet. Dès lors, il paraît que le paradoxe est toujours pertinent quand sa discussion s’effectue dans des contextes catégoriaux. Ceci n’est pas complètement vrai. En effet, le fait que le paradoxe soit pertinent n’est réalisé qu’après un itinéraire argumentatif long et tortueux, où, pendant plusieurs étapes, il semble avoir été annulé. Nous allons pendant les deux chapitres suivants essayer de présenter un aperçu de cet itinéraire. Le passage suivant des Réfutations Sophistiques donne l’impression de pouvoir amener à une solution éventuelle du problème (tout en se situant dans un contexte catégorial): Réf. Soph., 180a 26–38: “S’il est, en effet, impossible que les contraires (ἐναντία), les opposés (ἀντικείμενα), ainsi que l’affirmation et la négation, appartiennent d’une façon absolue (ἁπλῶς) à la même chose, rien ne s’oppose cependant à ce que l’un et l’autre de ces opposés n’appartiennent en même temps à la chose à un certain point de vue (πῄ), ou selon une certaine relation (πρός τι), ou d’une certaine façon (πώς)82, ou que l’un ne lui appartienne à un certain point de vue et l’autre d’une façon absolue. Il en résulte que si l’un appartient à la chose d’une façon absolue, et l’autre d’un certain point de vue, il n’y a pas encore de réfutation. Et c’est là ce qu’il faut voir dans la conclusion comparée avec la contradiction. Les arguments de l’espèce 80 81 82

Selon le deuxième sens de l’ambiguïté présentée au chapitre I. Utilisé aussi dans Mét. Λ, 1069b 8–34. La distinction entre πῄ et πώς est si subtile qu’on pourrait, sans craindre une altération du sens du passage, la négliger.

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Si “non (non-être ἁπλῶς)84” (οὐκ μὴ ὂν ἁπλῶς) peut être compatible (pour un et seul objet) avec “non-être d’une certaine manière” (πῄ, πώς), le paradoxe semble avoir disparu. Tout objet doit (et a fortiori peut) être cet objet singulier qu’il est, et non pas un autre objet. Dès lors, on aurait pu dire que la statue ne provient pas du “non-être ἁπλῶς”, mais d’un “non-être quelque chose85”, à savoir du morceau de marbre, qui, bien qu’il ne soit pas la statue, est quelque chose. Dans les Réfutations Sophistiques on trouve encore deux indices menant dans la même direction. Réf. Soph., 166b 37 – 167a 7: “Les paralogismes qui tiennent à la question de savoir si une expression est employée au sens absolu (ἁπλῶς λέγεσθαι), ou sous un certain aspect (πῄ λέγεσθαι) excluant son sens principal (μὴ κυρίως), ont lieu quand une expression employée particulièrement (ἐν μέρει) est prise comme employée absolument (ἁπλῶς). Tel est l’argument: Si le non­être est l’objet d’opinion, le non­être est. Car ce n’est pas la même chose d’être telle chose (εἶναί τι) et d’être absolument. Ou encore: Ce qui est n’est pas, s’il n’est pas parmi les “être quelque chose”, par exemple s’il n’est pas un homme. Car ce n’est pas la même chose de n’être pas telle chose et de n’être pas absolument : mais cela paraît être la même chose, en raison de la ressemblance étroite des deux expressions, autrement dit de ce qu’il n’y a qu’une légère différence entre “être telle chose” et “être absolument”, entre “ne pas être telle chose” et “ne pas être”.” (trad. Tricot – modifiée)

On se trompe parce que “non-être” et “non-être quelque chose” sont morphologiquement très proches (διὰ τὸ πάρεγγυς τῆς λέξεως 167a 5). Le morceau de marbre à partir duquel la statue a été générée est un non-être quelque chose et non pas un non-être ἁπλῶς. Voilà donc comment on pourrait rendre compatible le fait que les étants proviennent d’un non­être et que celui-ci existe. Ils sont générés à partir d’un non-être quelque chose. Le morceau de marbre est à la fois un non-être (non-statue d’Hermès) et un étant. Aristote y revient deux pages après:

83

84

85

Par rapport à la dernière phrase nous suivons l’édition Bekker. Ross a omis le point d’interrogation et a mis entre parenthèse la phrase qui vient juste après. Or, selon Bekker, la question est manifestement rhétorique et la phrase qui suit est une justification de la réponse négative (sous-entendue). Cf. Alex. Nous avons longtemps hésité par rapport à la traduction de l’expression μὴ ὂν ἁπλῶς. La traduction standard est “non-être absolu”, mais elle nous paraît être la moins satisfaisante, car elle masque le caractère modal donné par l’adverbe: il ne s’agit pas d’un non-être qui a la propriété d’être absolu, mais d’une manière de ne pas être. Par ailleurs, “non-être simpliciter” est plus satisfaisant, mais il n’est pas courant dans les exégèses françaises. “Non-être absolument” est trop lourd, et “non-être de manière absolue” trop long. Nous avons ainsi choisi de laisser l’adverbe sans traduction. La traduction la plus littérale nous paraît être “ne pas être (de manière absolue)”. Ce “quelque chose” peut être une variable de qualité mais aussi d’ousia.

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Réf. Soph., 168b 11–15: “Les réfutations qui tiennent à ce que quelque chose est dit sous un certain aspect ou dit absolument (παρὰ τὸ πῂ καὶ ἁπλῶς) , parce que l’affirmation et la négation ne portent pas sur la même chose. En effet, “blanc par certain côté” (πῂ λευκοῦ) a pour négation “non-blanc par certain côté”, tandis que “blanc absolument” (ἁπλῶς λευκοῦ) a pour négation “non-blanc absolument”. Si donc, alors qu’il a été seulement donné qu’une chose est blanche par certain côté, on la prend comme ayant été dite blanche absolument, on ne fait pas une réfutation,” (trad. Tricot)

Si on donne à “blanc”, qui est manifestement ici une variable, la valeur εἶναι, on obtient directement la conclusion visée. Quelque chose peut provenir d’une autre chose, qui, bien qu’elle ne soit pas la chose générée, existe. L’argument général qui pourrait faire ainsi disparaître le paradoxe est le suivant. L’objet à partir duquel un autre objet a été généré ne peut pas avoir été le même objet que l’objet généré. Soit a l’objet généré. Alors: l’objet à partir duquel l’objet a a été généré doit être un non-être a – où a est une instance de la variable quelque chose, dans la formule “non-être quelque chose”. De l’autre côté, l’objet à partir duquel l’objet généré a été produit est quelque chose, et de ce fait même, il n’est pas un non-être ἁπλῶς. Puisque être et ne pas être quelque chose sont (pour le même objet et en même temps) compatibles, l’objet généré peut ne pas avoir été produit à partir du non-être ἁπλῶς, et ne pas avoir existé avant sa génération. Le problème que cette particulière voie de résoudre le paradoxe rencontrera est le suivant. Bien qu’on puisse toujours affirmer que l’objet à partir duquel l’objet généré a été produit existe sans être l’objet généré, on ne peut pas affirmer que l’objet généré existait avant sa génération, sans avoir sa propre ousia. Mais sur ce point nous allons revenir au dernier chapitre. *** Cette distinction générale entre le non-être ἁπλῶς et le non-être quelque chose, peut être élaborée d’avantage par le moyen de la distinction entre “être en puissance” et “être en acte”. L’objet généré provient d’une matière qui est capable de recevoir la forme qui constitue l’essence du même objet. Pour chaque étant, il y a une matière propre à lui, et ce n’est qu’à partir de cette matière que ce même étant peut être généré.87 Cette matière propre (ἴδιον)88 de chaque objet singulier est à distinguer de la matière en tant que prima materia (si telle matière il y a), et des quatre éléments. En fait, il y a chez Aristote une distinction explicite entre la matière en tant que sous-jacent ultime de toute chose89 (ou de la totalité des espèces)90 et la matière en 86 87 88 89 90

Voir Waitz (Theodorus), Aristotelis Organon graece, Leipzig, 1844–46: 539. Cf. Mét. Ζ, 1035b 27–31, Η, 1044b 1–3. Voir note précédente. À ne pas confondre avec la prima materia des scolastiques. Voir ci-dessous, ainsi que Ross (David, W.), Aristotle’s Metaphysics, a revised text with introduction and commentary, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1924: vol. I: p. 298. Pour cette ambiguïté de la matière première, voir Métaphysique Δ, cité ci-dessous.

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tant que matière propre des différentes espèces, ou des objets singuliers (appelée “matière ultime”91): Mét. Δ, 1015a 7–10: “Nature (i) la matière première (πρώτη ὕλη); elle est première selon deux sens: ou première relativement à l’objet (πρὸς αὐτό), ou généralement (ὅλως) première: ainsi pour les produits d’airain,92 l’airain est premier relativement à ces objets, mais, généralement, c’est, peut-être, l’eau, s’il est vrai que tous les corps fusibles sont de l’eau,” […]93 (trad. Tricot – modifiée) Mét. Ζ, 1035b 30–31: καθ’ ἕκαστον δ’ ἐκ τῆς ἐσχάτης ὕλης ὁ Σωκράτης ἤδη ἔστιν, […] “en ce qui concerne l’objet singulier, sitôt après la matière ultime, Socrate existe.” (trad. Tricot – modifiée)

L’élargissement notionnel qui a été apporté par la puissance et la matière, permet un traitement du paradoxe encore plus poussé. Car les distinctions établies dans les Réfutations Sophistiques permettaient de dissoudre le paradoxe dans la mesure où l’objet généré avait été produit à partir d’un objet qui existait déjà. Selon la distinction entre être en puissance et être en acte, l’objet généré peut, en plus, être considéré comme ayant été généré à partir d’une matière qui était (en puissance) cet objet. Dès lors, grâce à la distinction entre être en puissance et être en acte, on est en position d’affirmer non seulement que l’objet généré a été produit à partir d’un objet qui existait (sans pour autant être l’objet généré), mais aussi que l’objet généré lui-même existait (en puissance) avant sa propre génération. Mét. Γ, 1009a 30–36: “Aux philosophes dont l’opinion repose sur ces fondements,94 nous dirons donc que, d’une certaine manière (τρόπον μέν τινα), leur raisonnement est correct, mais que, d’une autre manière, ils sont dans l’erreur. L’“être”, en effet, se dit de deux façons (τὸ γὰρ ὂν λέγεται διχῶς); par conséquent, en un sens, il est possible que quelque chose soit généré à partir du non-être (ἐνδέχεται γίγνεσθαί τι ἐκ τοῦ μὴ ὄντος), tandis que, dans un autre sens, ce n’est pas possible; il se peut que la même chose soit, en même temps être et non­être, mais non sous le même point de vue (οὐ κατὰ ταὐτὸ [ὄν]95). En puissance, en effet, il est possible que la même chose soit en même temps les contraires, mais, en entéléchie, ce n’est pas possible.” (trad. Tricot – modifiée)

Par conséquent, l’étant (en acte) est généré à partir de l’étant (en puissance), et ceci ne produit désormais aucun paradoxe. L’étant généré n’existait pas avant sa génération et ne va pas continuer d’exister après sa corruption, précisément parce que dans ces deux derniers cas il n’existe qu’en puissance.96 Le paradoxe se trouve ainsi doublement bloqué. Le non-être qui précède la génération et succède la corruption n’existe qu’en puissance. Puisqu’il n’y a aucune contradiction dans le cas où un et seul objet est à la fois un “être (quelque chose) en 91 92 93 94 95 96

Voir ci-dessus. Nous avons l’impression qu’Aristote parle ici de l’espèce des produits d’airain et non pas de chaque produit d’airain pris séparément, et ceci parce que la matière propre des objets singuliers est leur matière ultime. Voir ci-dessous. Cf. Mét. Θ, 1049a 24ss., où la matière première ne dispose que le deuxième de ces sens. i.e. que les contraires puissent exister simultanément dans la même chose. Voir 1009a 22ss. Nous sommes en accord avec Christ: secl. ὄν. Cf. Alex. Cf. Mét. Θ, 1047a 35 – b 2.

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puissance” et un “non-être (ce même quelque chose) en acte”,97 l’étant généré existe (en puissance) avant sa génération et après sa corruption. Aussitôt que cette distinction est établie, le paradoxe aurait dû complètement disparaître. Or, ce n’est pas le cas. Le problème a, encore une fois, affaire avec la primauté de la catégorie de l’ousia. La question qui fait ressortir le problème est celle de savoir quel est le sujet qui est quelque-chose-d’autre en puissance. Dans le cas où il est la prima materia ou les éléments fondamentaux, il n’est pas un objet singulier, et dans le cas où il est un objet singulier, il ne peut pas être en puissance un autre objet. Dès qu’il devient cet “autre objet”, il cesse d’être le même objet. D’où la primauté de l’ousia. Quelque chose est en puissance quelque chose, seulement si son ousia reste sous-jacente. Autrement dit, le “quelque chose” dans la dernière phrase est une variable de qualité est non pas d’objet. Sur ce point aussi nous allons revenir dans notre dernier chapitre. VIII Dans tous les arguments de la partie précédente, il y avait deux ambiguïtés. La première concernait le double sens du terme ὑποκείμενον, que nous avons déjà exposé. La deuxième concernait un double sens des expressions “génération simple” et “corruption simple”. Nous avions vu que, selon Aristote, il y a trois espèces de changement. Parmi l’une de ces espèces (à savoir parmi celle qui part du sous-jacent et aboutit au sousjacent) on trouve l’altération. Elle est toujours une altération des qualités d’un objet qui reste sous-jacent. Les deux autres (formes de changement) sont la génération et la corruption. Selon toutes ces deux dernières espèces de changement on n’a pas affaire avec des générations et des corruptions d’une qualité d’un objet qui reste sous­jacent,98 mais avec des générations et des corruptions qui sont appelées par Aristote “générations et corruptions simples”: Mét. Ν, 1088a 31–33: “Tandis que pour la catégorie de quantité il y a l’accroissement et le décroissement, pour la qualité, l’altération, pour le lieu la translation, pour l’ousia, il y a la génération et la corruption simple (κατὰ τὴν οὐσίαν ἡ ἁπλῆ γένεσις καὶ φθορά).”99 (trad. Tricot – modifiée)

Quel sens pourrait-on attribuer à cet adjectif? Puisque la génération et la corruption qui ne sont pas κατὰ τὴν οὐσίαν sont des générations et des corruptions des qualités de l’objet, on pourrait faire l’hypothèse que la génération et la corruption qui sont simples sont la génération et la corruption de l’objet lui-même. 97 98 99

Voir l’exemple procuré par Syrianus dans son commentaire du passage. Les altérations des qualités d’un objet sous-jacent sont aussi appelées par Aristote des générations et des corruptions (de ces qualités). Cf. De Gén. et Corr., I, 3, Phys. I, 189b 32ss, III, 261b 4–5. Voir chap. XI. Cf. De Gén et Corr., 319b 31 – 320a 2.

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Prenons Socrate comme exemple. Quand l’éducation de Socrate est achevée, on dit que Socrate est devenu musicien (μουσικὸς γέγονεν Σωκράτης).100 La qualité de musicalité a été générée sur le sous-jacent qui est appelé “Socrate”. De l’autre côté, sa génération simple n’est autre que sa naissance. Tout au long de la vie de Socrate, on peut affirmer que Socrate existe. Et dans ce dernier cas, le verbe εἶναι est utilisé selon un usage simple (non-qualifié). De manière symétrique on obtient que la mort de Socrate est aussi un changement simple. Socrate cesse d’être sous-jacent. Considérons maintenant les deux énoncés suivants: (i) “Socrate existe” (ἔστι Σωκράτης) et (ii) “Socrate est un homme” (ἄνθρωπός ἐστι Σωκράτης).101 Conformément à l’hypothèse précédente, on devrait assumer que le verbe εἶναι n’est utilisé de manière non-qualifée que dans le premier énoncé. Dans le deuxième énoncé on attribue une qualité à un objet singulier qui est appelé “Socrate”. Or, ce qui complique l’analyse aristotélicienne, c’est que, toujours selon Aristote, le verbe εἶναι est aussi utilisé de manière simple dans le deuxième cas. Voyons pourquoi. La question “qu’est-ce que c’est?” (τί ἐστι;) concerne toujours les étants et peut se référer à toutes les catégories (bien qu’elle se réfère principalement à la catégorie de l’ousia) Mét. Ζ, 1030a 18–23: “Et alors, d’un certain point de vue le “ce que c’est”102 (τί ἐστι) signifie (σημαίνει) l’ousia et la différence spécifique, (τὸ τόδε τι)103 et d’un autre, chacun parmi les attributs, (ἕκαστον τῶν κατηγορουμένων) i.e. quantité, qualité et le reste de ce genre de choses.”104 (trad. personnelle)

Revenons à l’exemple de Socrate. Si on posait la question τί ἔστι par rapport à la catégorie de la position (κεῖσθαι), on pourrait obtenir une réponse comme “Socrate est assis”. Si on la posait par rapport à la catégorie du lieu, on pourrait obtenir une réponse comme: “Socrate est au marché”, etc. Toutes ces réponses expriment des qualités de l’individu Socrate qui peuvent changer sans que cet individu s’anéantisse. Passons maintenant au cas où la question τί ἔστι porte sur la catégorie de l’ou­ sia. La réponse attendue serait “Socrate est un homme” ou “Socrate est un bipède sans plumes”. Or, et voilà le problème, Aristote considère que le verbe être y est utilisé selon un usage simple. Mét. Ζ, 1028a 30–31: “Par conséquent le premièrement étant (πρώτως ὄν) et non pas étant quelque chose (οὐ τὶ ὄν), mais simplement étant (ὂν ἁπλῶς) serait l’ousia”. (trad. personnelle)

Si ce qui est “premièrement étant” et “non pas étant quelque chose” mais “simplement étant” est l’ousia, le logos qui “attribue” à l’ousia son essence, utiliserait le 100 101 102 103

Cf. Mét. Α, 983b 13–17. Ou “Socrate est un bipède sans plumes”. i.e. la définition. Si on traduit τόδε τι par “objet singulier” on attribue à Aristote un pléonasme manifeste. Dans ce contexte nous préférons attribuer à l’expression le sens préféré des commentateurs anciens: ce qui délimite un genre par une condition. 104 Voir aussi Top., 103b 27–29.

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verbe être selon son usage le plus simple. Autrement dit, si l’essence de chaque objet est exprimée dans le discours par le moyen du logos qui l’attribue à l’objet, on ne peut utiliser le verbe εἶναι de manière non-qualifiée que dans le logos qui attribue l’essence à l’ousia. La conclusion précédente entraîne que l’usage du verbe εἶναι dans l’énoncé grec “Socrate existe” (Σωκράτης ἔστι) ne peut pas être plus simple que l’usage qui a lieu dans l’énoncé “Socrate est un homme”.105 Or, l’énoncé qui affirme l’existence de Socrate doit être distingué de l’énoncé qui exprime l’essence de Socrate. Et même dans le cas où l’expression du fait que Socrate existe est contenue dans le logos qui exprime l’essence de Socrate, l’inverse ne peut pas avoir lieu. L’énoncé qui affirme l’existence de Socrate ne peut pas exprimer l’essence de Socrate. Autrement dit: si quelqu’un apprend que Socrate existe, il serait bien sensé se demander qu’est-ce que Socrate est. Au contraire, s’il apprend que Socrate est un homme, il ne pourrait pas avoir des doutes sur son existence.106 De ce point de vue l’usage du verbe εἶναι dans l’énoncé “Socrate existe” est plus simple (moins non-qualifié) que dans l’énoncé “Socrate est un homme”. Et, selon le même point de vue, l’ousia de l’objet n’est pas son “être non-qualifié”. L’“être non-qualifié” de l’objet est le fait qu’il existe. Ce qu’on confirme donc ici est une ambiguïté par rapport au sens de l’expression ὂν ἁπλῶς. Selon le premier sens (qui, par ailleurs, est le sens le plus souvent attesté), elle fait référence à la catégorie de l’ousia, et exprime (pour chaque étant), l’essence de cet étant. Par contre, et selon le deuxième sens, l’être simple (non-qualifié), correspond à l’existence de l’objet, ou, pour dire mieux, au fait que l’objet existe. L’usage du verbe, selon ce dernier sens, a lieu dans les énoncés qui affirment ou nient l’existence des objets. Ces deux sens ne peuvent pas se conjuguer, et ceci précisément parce que la question portant sur l’existence de l’objet est différente de la question portant sur l’essence de l’objet. De ce fait même la réponse à la première question (qui exprime l’essence de l’objet, dans le cas où l’objet existe), et la réponse à la deuxième (qui affirme ou nie l’existence de l’objet), ne peuvent pas être paraphrasées mutuellement. Et ceci même dans le cas où une paraphrase de la réponse concernant l’essence de l’objet peut contenir l’expression du fait que l’objet existe.107 L’inverse est impossible. Dans la plus grande partie du corpus, l’“être simple” d’un objet est considéré comme l’essence de l’objet. Il n’empêche que, dans d’autres contextes, l’“être simple” d’un objet correspond au fait que l’objet existe, et l’expression de ce dernier a lieu dans les énoncés qui affirment ou nient l’existence des objets. Illustrons maintenant cette dernière conclusion à travers un exemple. Nous allons revenir à l’exemple de Socrate, en le considérant cette fois-ci à l’aide du foncteur binaire schématique “… en tant que (ᾗ) …”. Nous allons restreindre le premier vide aux étants singuliers, et le deuxième à leurs qualités. Comme auparavant, le premier vide sera occupé par Socrate. 105 Et aussi dans l’énoncé: “Socrate est (un) bipède sans plumes”. 106 Toujours selon les Analytiques Secondes. 107 Si aucun objet qui n’existe pas ne dispose de définition.

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Que se passe-t-il quand nous sommes en train de considérer Socrate en tant qu’étant? Quand on considère Socrate en tant qu’éduqué, on est aussi en train de considérer Socrate en tant qu’(un) étant éduqué. Quand on le considère en tant qu’assis, on est aussi en train de le considérer en tant qu’(un) étant assis. Or, si l’être simple de Socrate était son essence, nous ne serions jamais en train de considérer Socrate en tant qu’étant (tout court). Nous serions toujours en train de considérer Socrate en tant qu’étant quelque chose. La question qui fait apparaître l’ambiguïté est la suivante. Quand nous sommes en train de considérer Socrate en tant qu’(un) étant, sommes-nous en train de considérer le fait que Socrate existe, ou bien sommes-nous en train de considérer le fait que Socrate existe en tant qu’un homme? Autrement dit: en considérant Socrate en tant qu’étant, notre attention se trouve-t-elle focalisée sur le fait qu’il y a un objet dans le monde qui porte le nom “Socrate”, ou bien sur le fait que Socrate est un homme? Comme nous l’avons vu auparavant ces deux interprétations ne peuvent pas se conjuguer. Résumons. L’expression “x en tant qu’étant” peut avoir deux fonctions. Selon la première elle focalise notre attention au fait que x existe. Selon la deuxième, elle la focalise à l’essence de x. Même si ce ne sont que les étants qui disposent d’essence, ces deux fonctions sont bien distinctes. Du fait qu’un objet existe, on peut inférer qu’il dispose d’une essence, sauf qu’on peut ne pas savoir laquelle. En général, quand, par l’expression “x en tant qu’étant”, notre attention est focalisée sur l’essence de x, on considère x en tant qu’étant quelque chose (ὄν τι), (même si le pronom “quelque chose” est ici une variable d’essence). Il n’empêche que, selon Aristote, ce même usage du verbe être est considéré comme non-qualifié; simple. Dans d’autres contextes la même expression focalise notre attention sur le fait que l’objet en question existe (tout court). Cet usage est considéré, par Aristote, et dans les mêmes contextes, comme “simple”. Avant de considérer comment cette ambiguïté se manifeste en Physique I, 8 et De la Génération et de la Corruption I, 3, nous allons répondre à deux objections concernant sa pertinence. IX L’ambiguïté de l’expression “être ἁπλῶς”, telle qu’elle a été esquissée dans le chapitre précédent, pourrait être mise en cause sur deux points précis. Le premier est que, selon le principe qui établit que l’être n’est aucun genre, on ne peut jamais prédiquer l’existence “simple” à aucun objet. L’ambiguïté est levée parce que l’un de ses deux pôles est inconcevable (dans le schéma catégorial). Le deuxième est qu’“être homme” et “être bipède sans plumes” n’expriment ni l’essence ni la définition de Socrate. Et ceci parce qu’ils satisfont plusieurs objets, tandis que chaque définition n’appartient qu’à l’objet qu’elle définit.108 108 Mét. Δ, 1017b 21–23.

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Nous allons commencer par la deuxième objection. Dans un passage central du livre Z de la Métaphysique, Aristote arrive à la conclusion que le schéma définitionnel qui procède par des spécifications consécutives jusqu’à atteindre la différence spécifique qui constitue la définition de l’objet,109 n’est pas applicable aux objets singuliers (matériels). Mét. Ζ, 1039b 27–30: “Telle est aussi la raison pour laquelle des substances sensibles individuelles (τῶν οὐσιῶν τῶν αἰσθητῶν τῶν καθ᾽ ἕκαστα) il n’y a ni définition, ni démonstration, étant donné que ces substances ont une matière dont la nature est celle de pouvoir être ou n’être pas;” (trad. Tricot)

Dès lors il n’y a aucune différence qui constitue la différence spécifique de Socrate.110 Cette conclusion est en contradiction manifeste avec le principe général selon lequel l’essence de l’objet est exprimée à travers sa définition.111 Car, quand on pose la question qu’est-ce que Socrate (par rapport à la catégorie de l’essence), on obtient une réponse où, même s’il y a une définition là-dedans, elle n’est pas la définition de Socrate. En tant définition de Socrate on aurait attendu une différence spécifique qui ne pourrait être attribuée qu’à Socrate, et qui serait, de ce fait même, l’espèce ultime (species specissima) dans sa définition. On aurait attendu une formule du type: bipède sans plumes…, où la différence spécifique remplirait les trois points de suspension. Mais puisque les étants singuliers ne disposent pas d’une telle différence, la réponse qu’on obtient à la question τί ἔστι, quand appliquée à un objet singulier (et par rapport à son essence), exprime une essence, sans pour autant exprimer un trait qui n’appartient qu’à cet étant. On pourrait même faire l’hypothèse qu’être homme n’est pas l’essence de Socrate mais une de ses qualités. Cette dernière option est corroborée par le fait que dans le traité des Catégories les essences secondes (telles que l’homme) sont appelées des qualités (ποιόν τι)112 sans pour autant être des “qualités proprement dites”113 (οὐχ ἁπλῶς ποιόν τι σημαίνει),114 comme elles le sont les différences telles que le blanc.115 Or, aussi pertinente soit-elle, cette particularité de l’essence des objets singuliers ne fait pas partie du problème tel qu’il a été exposé dans le chapitre précédent. Car, puisque l’essence des objets singuliers pourrait être considérée comme une qualité, l’usage du verbe εἶναι dans les énoncés qui expriment les essences de ces objets, ne peut pas être le moins qualifié. Ou bien, il le peut seulement dans le sens où tout énoncé doit être un énoncé catégorial. 109 Cf. An. Post., 97a 10–22, Top., 143b 8–10. 110 Une autre conséquence de la même conclusion est que l’espèce homme n’est pas le genre des hommes particuliers. Voir Mét. Β, 999a 5–6. 111 Sur ce principe voir An. Post., 97a 18–19. 112 Cat., 3b 15–16. 113 Nous ne pensons pas que l’adverbe ἁπλῶς dispose ici de son usage technique, signifiant: sans qualification. 114 Cat., 3b 18. 115 Cf. Simplicius.

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Nous avons ainsi rejoint la première objection que nous avons exposée au début du chapitre. Si les catégories sont les dix manières possibles d’énoncer l’étant, et si tout énoncé prédicatif doit être situé à l’intérieur du schéma catégorial, les énoncés prédiquant l’existence sont impossibles. Cette objection est aussi corroborée par la formule générale selon laquelle l’être n’est aucun genre.116 Selon une interprétation possible de ce principe l’existence non-qualifiée ne peut jamais être prédiquée aux objets. Les prédications n’ont lieu qu’à l’intérieur des catégories. Dès lors, il va falloir assumer (afin d’exprimer l’existence des objets) la présence d’un autre usage du verbe εἶναι qui serait proprement existentiel. On pourrait donc supposer que l’être simple de l’objet est toujours son essence et jamais le fait qu’il existe. Dès lors, l’énoncé qui prédique à l’étant sa propre essence lui prédique sa caractéristique la moins qualifiée, son “être simple”, tandis que l’énoncé qui affirme son existence ne lui prédique rien; il n’est pas un énoncé prédicatif. Or, aussi rigide, soit-il, ce principe117 n’est pas respecté dans une assez grande partie du corpus. Considérons les cas suivants: (i) Parfois le participe τὸ ὄν est utilisé de façon telle qu’il serait très peu probable de lui attribuer un sens non-prédicatif: An. Post., 96a 27–29: οἷον ἔστι τι ὃ πάσῃ τριάδι ὑπάρχει, ἀλλὰ καὶ μὴ τριάδι, ὥσπερ τὸ ὂν ὑπάρχει τῇ τριάδι, ἀλλὰ καὶ μὴ ἀριθμῷ, […] “Par exemple, tandis qu’il y a un attribut qui appartient à toute triade et qui cependant appartient aussi à ce qui n’est pas une triade (comme l’être appartient à la triade, mais aussi à ce qui n’est pas du tout un nombre),”118 (trad. Tricot)

Si l’expression ὑπάρχει τινὶ τί dispose ici de son sens habituel, elle doit être considérée comme prédiquant l’accusatif au datif. Par conséquent, ce qui semble être ici prédiqué à l’objet en question (τῇ τριάδι) est l’existence, tout court (τὸ ὄν). Dans le passage suivant les choses sont encore plus claires. On trouve une syntaxe où le verbe “être” dispose d’attribut, et, par conséquent, est utilisé en tant que copule: Top., 149b 15–16: οὐδὲν γὰρ κωλύει τὸ αὐτὸ καὶ ὂν καὶ λευκὸν καὶ ἀγαθὸν εἶναι, […] “parce que rien n’empêche que la même chose soit à la fois existante,119 blanche et bonne,” (trad. personnelle)

(ii) Il y a aussi des endroits où l’être (et le non­être) semblent être les espèces d’un autre genre, comme c’est le cas dans le passage suivant du MXG: MXG, 978a 24–28: “Dès lors, qu’est-ce qui empêche que quelques-uns parmi ces attributs soient dits de l’étant aussi bien que du non-étant. Car, personne ne perçoit actuellement le

116 Mét. Β, 998b 21–22, Ι, 1053b 20–24. 117 i.e. l’être n’est pas un genre. 118 Étant donné l’usage technique standard de l’expression ὑπάρχει τινὶ τί Tricot a raison de paraphraser en “il y a un attribut…”. 119 Tricot, très probablement pour éviter le problème, traduit ὄν par “réelle”.

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non-étant (τό τε γὰρ [ὂν]120 οὐκ ὂν οὐδεὶς νῦν αἰσθάνεται), et quelqu’un aurait pu ne pas percevoir actuellement quelque chose qui est. Ils sont, par ailleurs, tous les deux exprimables et121 pensables.” (trad. personnelle)

Le non-étant et l’étant peuvent être à fois “inaperçus”, et ils sont à la fois “exprimables” et “pensables”. Dans d’autres contextes on aurait pu les considérer comme des espèces du genre de l’opinable (δοξαστόν): Top. 121 b 3–4: καὶ γὰρ καὶ τὸ ὂν καὶ τὸ μὴ ὂν δοξαστόν, […] “en effet, l’existant comme l’inexistant sont des contenus de l’opinion;”122 (trad. Brunschwig)123

On pourrait, bien sûr, objecter ici que les passages cités ci-dessus représentent des options marginales, et que l’interprétation normative de la théorie des catégories doit être toujours considérée comme exprimée dans le principe que l’être n’est au­ cun genre. Nous n’avons pas ici l’intention d’argumenter que cette interprétation n’est pas aussi marginale qu’on le pense d’habitude. Néanmoins, et comme nous avons vu pendant la considération des Analytiques Secondes, un autre usage du verbe être doit s’additionner à l’usage prédicatif. Par conséquent, même si par le moyen du schéma catégorial on peut exprimer toute prédication possible, une signification proprement existentielle doit être assumée, afin de pouvoir justifier comment et pourquoi les questions “qu’est-ce x est?” et “x existe-t-il?”, doivent être distinguées. Nous allons pendant les deux derniers chapitres assumer ces deux significations du verbe être, et nous allons leur faire correspondre deux usages distincts. Le premier sera appelé usage catégorial, et il aura lieu dans tout énoncé du type “x est y”, où x est une variable d’objet et y une variable de qualité.124 Le deuxième sera appelé usage non­catégorial et il aura lieu dans tout énoncé, où la signification du verbe ne pourra être autre que la signification dite existentielle. Par exemple, cet usage aura lieu dans l’énoncé “Oui, il existe” (ναί, ἔστι), en tant que réponse à la question εἰ ἔστι des Analytiques Secondes, quand appliquée à un étant. X Appliquons maintenant ces deux usages de la fonction “… en tant qu’étant” par rapport au processus de la génération et de la corruption de Socrate. Selon l’usage catégorial, l’expression “Socrate en tant qu’étant” fait abstraction de tout autre aspect de Socrate, sauf son essence. Notre attention se focalise au fait qu’il est un homme.

120 Mullachap. 121 Selon l’édition Bekker, la traduction devrait être “comme elles sont pensables”: ὅπως au lieu de καί. 122 Cf. Top., 121a 14–26. 123 Brunschwig (Jacques), Aristote Topiques, (I-IV), Paris, Belles Lettres, 1967. 124 Même si elle est la “qualité première” (i.e. l’essence).

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Selon l’usage non­catégorial, l’expression “Socrate en tant qu’étant” fait abstraction de tout autre aspect de Socrate, sauf le fait qu’il existe. Notre attention se trouve alors focalisée sur le fait qu’il y a dans le monde un objet singulier qui répond au nom de “Socrate”. Selon un autre point de vue, mais toujours selon le même usage, elle focalise notre attention sur le fait que Socrate possède les propriétés que tout étant possède. On pourrait ainsi dire qu’en considérant Socrate en tant qu’étant, notre attention se focalise au fait que Socrate est identique à lui-même.125 Ou encore, on pourrait dire que notre attention se trouve focalisée sur le fait que Socrate, comme tout étant, possède une essence. Tout de même, le fait que l’essence particulière possédée par Socrate est celle d’un être humain, reste (selon l’usage non­catégorial de l’expression) voilé. La même ambiguïté doit être assumée par rapport à l’être simple de Socrate. En répondant à la question pourquoi on affirme que Socrate existe, on peut dire soit qu’on le fait parce qu’il y a dans le monde un étant singulier qui porte le nom “Socrate” (ou parce que cet étant a toutes les propriétés communes aux étants singuliers), soit parce que ce même étant existe en tant qu’homme. Ce dernier usage semble être qualifié (ne pas être simple), mais nous avons déjà vu comment il peut être considéré comme le plus simple possible dans le cadre des catégories. Ce qui va constituer notre appui pour ces analyses finales est l’application de la fonction “… en tant qu’étant”, dans le cadre de la génération et de la corruption. Dès lors, notre analyse va être transposée de la forme générale “… en tant qu’étant”, à son usage spécifique concernant ces deux processus. La question est la suivante: quelle fonction pourrait avoir l’expression “en tant que” dans les énoncés ouverts à un terme “… a été généré en tant qu’étant” et “… a été corrompu en tant qu’étant“? Conformément aux analyses précédentes, on doit arriver à la conclusion que la fonction fait ici abstraction de tout autre aspect de l’objet généré, sauf (i) de son essence ou (ii) du fait qu’il existe, (ou du fait qu’il possède les propriétés que tout étant possède). En affirmant donc que x a été généré en tant qu’étant on admet comme un fait soit que x n’existait pas avant sa génération, soit que x ne possédait pas cette essence particulière qu’il possède maintenant. (Le même vaut mutatis mutandis pour “x a été corrompu en tant qu’étant”.) La même ambiguïté doit être assumée par rapport à la génération et la corruption simples. Si la génération simple de Socrate est sa génération en tant qu’étant, alors cette génération peut être considérée selon deux points de vue bien distincts. En affirmant que Socrate a été généré ἁπλῶς, on admet comme un fait soit que (i) Socrate n’existait pas avant sa génération (ou qu’il n’avait pas les propriétés communes à tout étant), soit (ii) qu’il n’était pas (un) homme. Par conséquent: affirmer l’énoncé “Socrate a été généré en tant qu’étant” ou “Socrate a été généré ἁπλῶς” équivaut à admettre comme un fait soit (i) que Socrate n’existait pas avant sa génération, soit (ii) qu’il n’avait pas cette ousia qu’il possède maintenant. Il est évident que ces deux affirmations sont conformes à la nature du monde sublunaire, tel que le conçoit Aristote. Puisque la génération de l’étant singulier part 125 La condition que ce ne sont que les étants qui sont identiques à eux mêmes devrait être remplie.

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du non sous­jacent pour aboutir au sous­jacent, ce dernier ne pourrait ni exister avant qu’il soit sous-jacent, ni avoir l’ousia qu’il a maintenant (sinon il serait sousjacent), ni avoir une autre ousia (parce qu’“il” ne pourrait pas être le même objet, et donc il n’existerait pas). Dans tous les cas ce qui a été généré n’avait pas été sousjacent avant sa génération, et alors il n’existait ni selon l’usage catégorial, ni selon l’usage non-catégorial. Cette caractéristique de la génération simple (de la génération en tant qu’étant) n’est partagée avec aucune autre forme de génération. Prenons par exemple la musicalité. Elle peut être générée chez Socrate, sans que la non-existence de Socrate soit nécessaire; tout au contraire. La génération de Socrate en tant que musicien, doit avoir lieu sur ce sous­jacent (i.e. Socrate).126 Bien que la musicalité n’existe pas chez Socrate avant cette génération, Socrate lui-même existait. Le problème avec la génération simple de Socrate est que ce qui a été généré n’est pas une qualité d’un sous-jacent, mais ce sous-jacent même, (ou son essence). À ce point, la raison pour laquelle le paradoxe se trouve ainsi réintroduit devrait être claire. Quel aspect de Socrate aurait pu exister dans un autre objet singulier? Or, comme nous l’avons vu dans le chapitre VI, la primauté de la catégorie de l’ou­ sia fait qu’aucune qualité ou caractéristique de l’étant ne pourrait subsister sans elle. Cette primauté se trouve confirmée par la particularité de la génération et de la corruption simples, qui a été examinée ci-dessus. Une fois que les générations et les corruptions simples sont des faits du monde (sublunaire), et une fois que l’étant (simple) ne peut pas provenir du non­étant (simple), il devrait provenir d’un non-étant quelque chose. Le vinaigre provient non pas du non-étant absolu, mais du vin, qui, bien qu’il ne soit pas du vinaigre, il est quelque chose. Mais dès qu’on se pose la question de savoir quel aspect du vinaigre aurait pu exister avant sa génération, le paradoxe se trouve réintroduit. La primauté de l’essence fait qu’aucun des aspects de l’objet ne pourrait exister séparément d’elle. Notons ici que cette impossibilité est valide selon toutes les deux fonctions de l’expression “… en tant qu’étant”, et ceci à cause du fait que quand l’essence d’un objet n’est pas sous-jacente, l’objet n’existe pas. Socrate ne pouvait pas exister avant qu’il soit un être humain. Le schéma de la distinction entre puissance et acte ne marche pas non plus. Si l’eau était conçu comme sous-jacent, il pourrait être considéré comme du vinaigre en puissance. Mais dès que la discussion se transpose aux étants singuliers, le vin n’est plus du “vinaigre possible”. Nous allons considérer par la suite les deux passages, qui confirment (nous semble-t-il), les analyses présentes.

126 Mét. Α, 983b 13–17.

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XI A. Le premier passage dispose d’une place centrale dans les analyses de la Physique I. Aristote vient de terminer ses considérations concernant la tripartition: contraires – matière – sous­jacent. Phys. I, 191a 23: “Mais qu’il y a trois principes, et comment il y en a trois, et quelle est leur manière d’être (τίς ὁ τρόπος αὐτῶν), on le voit. Que le nombre et l’identification des principes soient, par là, examinés.” (trad. Carteron – modifiée)

Dès le paragraphe suivant (le début du chapitre 8) son analyse change d’orientation. Ce qui est maintenant examiné n’est plus la façon dont la matière persiste (est sous-jacente) pendant les privations des contraires. Phys. I, 191a 23–24: “C’est ainsi, et seulement ainsi, qu’on peut sortir de l’impasse des anciens (ἡ τῶν ἀρχαίων ἀπορία); voilà ce qui va être maintenant considéré” (trad. personnelle)

Ce qui est annoncé au début et qui va par la suite être exposé sera la seule manière de dissoudre l’aporie (l’impasse) des anciens. Dans les lignes suivantes, citées déjà, on peut lire la présentation de cette impasse (aporie). Phys. I, 191a 24–31: “En effet, les premiers qui s’adonnèrent à la philosophie (οἱ κατὰ φιλοσοφίαν πρῶτοι), cherchant la vérité et la nature des êtres, furent détournés, comme s’ils avaient été poussés de force sur une mauvaise voie, par inhabileté (ὑπὸ ἀπειρίας); selon eux, nul être n’est engendré, ni détruit, parce que ce qui est engendré doit l’être nécessairement ou de l’être ou du non-être, deux solutions également impossibles: en effet, il ne peut être engendré de l’être, car il existe déjà ; et, rien ne peut être engendré du non-être; puisqu’il faut que quelque chose soit sous-jacent.” (trad. Carteron – modifiée)

Les “anciens”, nous dit Aristote, ont été amenés à nier la réalité de la génération et de la corruption; et ceci a été parce que l’étant ne peut pas provenir du non­étant, ni exister avant sa propre génération. L’hémipériode qui constitue la clause du passage cité ci-dessus est d’une importance majeure pour la compréhension de l’argument qui va suivre. ὑποκεῖσθαι γάρ τι δεῖν. “puisqu’il faut que quelque chose soit sous-jacent.” (191a 31)

Dès lors, on trouve (même pendant l’exposition de l’impasse des anciens) la clef pour la solution qui va suivre. Rappelons-nous ici que la formulation standard de la célèbre impasse est que “rien ne se génère du non-être” ou “du néant” (tout court).127 Et c’est Aristote qui ajoute que c’est parce que quelque chose (τι) doit être sous-jacent pendant la génération et la corruption. Conformément à ce qui a précédé on aurait attendu que si on considérait la matière indéfinie comme ce sous-jacent, le paradoxe serait dissout. Cependant, l’analyse prend un autre chemin. Les deux dernières phrases du paragraphe préparent la suite: 127 Voir chap. I, II, III.

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Phys. I, 191a 31–33: “Puis d’un tel point de départ aggravant les conséquences, ils vont jusqu’à prétendre que ne sont pas plusieurs, mais seulement l’être lui-même (οὐδ᾽ εἶναι πολλά φασιν ἀλλὰ μόνον αὐτὸ τὸ ὄν). (trad. Carteron – modifiée)

Ce qui est ici précisé est que les “anciens”, après avoir nié la réalité de la génération et de la corruption, ont aussi été amenés à réfuter la thèse selon laquelle il y a plusieurs étants. La façon dont la réfutation de la génération et de la corruption peut amener à cette thèse est expliqué ailleurs128 et ne touche pas notre propos. “Ceux-ci ont pris cette position, à cause de ce qui vient d’être dit”,129 conclut Aristote. Dans la suite il commence à avancer son propre argument. “De l’autre côté (δέ), nous (ἡμεῖς) disons que (λέγομεν)…”. Ce que “va dire” Aristote à propos de ce sujet s’achève à la ligne 191b 27. Afin de pouvoir saisir l’argument dans sa totalité, nous allons exposer en premier lieu le passage tout entier et commenter par la suite. Phys. I, 191a 34– 191b 27130: “Nous, de l’autre côté, nous disons que d’un certain point de vue le “être généré de l’être” et le “être généré du non-être” ou le “l’être (ou le non-être) fait quelque chose” ou “subit quelque chose” etc. ne diffère point du “le médecin fait (ou subi) quelque chose” et du “quelque chose a été fait (ou se fait actuellement) par le médecin”. Par conséquent, puisque ce dernier se dit selon deux sens distincts, le premier se dit aussi selon ces deux sens. Car, le médecin maçonne non pas en tant que médecin mais en tant que maçon, et il devient blanc non pas en tant que médecin, mais en tant que noir, tandis que c’est en tant que médecin qu’il traite les patients, ou qu’il perd sa capacité de les traiter. Puisque, donc, la plupart du temps, quand on dit que le médecin fait quelque chose ou subit quelque chose ou que c’est du médecin que quelque chose se produit, c’est dans le cas où c’est en tant que médecin qu’il fait subit etc. ces choses, c’est clair que le “être engendré du non-être” signifie ceci: “être engendré du non-être en tant que non-être”. C’est précisément cette distinction, la distinction que les anciens n’ont pas faite, et à cause de cette ignorance, ils ont été amenés à un tel point de non-connaissance, qu’ils ont cru que rien ne se produit et que rien n’existe du reste des choses; 128 Voir MXG, 974b 26–29. 129 191a 33–34. 130 ἡμεῖς δὲ λέγομεν ὅτι τὸ ἐξ ὄντος ἢ μὴ ὄντος γίγνεσθαι, ἢ τὸ μὴ ὂν ἢ τὸ ὂν ποιεῖν τι ἢ πάσχειν ἢ ὁτιοῦν τόδε γίγνεσθαι, ἕνα μὲν τρόπον οὐθὲν διαφέρει ἢ τὸ τὸν ἰατρὸν ποιεῖν τι ἢ πάσχειν ἢ ἐξ ἰατροῦ εἶναί τι ἢ γίγνεσθαι, ὥστ’ ἐπειδὴ τοῦτο διχῶς λέγεται, δῆλον ὅτι καὶ τὸ ἐξ ὄντος καὶ τὸ ὂν ἢ ποιεῖν ἢ πάσχειν. οἰκοδομεῖ μὲν οὖν ὁ ἰατρὸς οὐχ ᾗ ἰατρὸς ἀλλ’ ᾗ οἰκοδόμος, καὶ λευκὸς γίγνεται οὐχ ᾗ ἰατρὸς ἀλλ’ ᾗ μέλας· ἰατρεύει δὲ καὶ ἀνίατρος γίγνεται ᾗ ἰατρός. ἐπεὶ δὲ μάλιστα λέγομεν κυρίως τὸν ἰατρὸν ποιεῖν τι ἢ πάσχειν ἢ γίγνεσθαι ἐξ ἰατροῦ, ἐὰν ᾗ ἰατρὸς ταῦτα πάσχῃ ἢ ποιῇ ἢ γίγνηται, δῆλον ὅτι καὶ τὸ ἐκ μὴ ὄντος γίγνεσθαι τοῦτο σημαίνει, τὸ ᾗ μὴ ὄν. ὅπερ ἐκεῖνοι μὲν οὐ διελόντες ἀπέστησαν, καὶ διὰ ταύτην τὴν ἄγνοιαν τοσοῦτον προσηγνόησαν, ὥστε μηθὲν οἴεσθαι γίγνεσθαι μηδ’ εἶναι τῶν ἄλλων, ἀλλ’ ἀνελεῖν πᾶσαν τὴν γένεσιν· ἡμεῖς δὲ καὶ αὐτοί φαμεν γίγνεσθαι μὲν μηθὲν ἁπλῶς ἐκ μὴ ὄντος, πὼς μέντοι γίγνεσθαι ἐκ μὴ ὄντος, οἷον κατὰ συμβεβηκός (ἐκ γὰρ τῆς στερήσεως, ὅ ἐστι καθ’ αὑτὸ μὴ ὄν, οὐκ ἐνυπάρχοντος γίγνεταί τι· θαυμάζεται δὲ τοῦτο καὶ ἀδύνατον οὕτω δοκεῖ γίγνεσθαί τι ἐκ μὴ ὄντος)· ὡσαύτως δὲ οὐδ’ ἐξ ὄντος οὐδὲ τὸ ὂν γίγνεσθαι, πλὴν κατὰ συμβεβηκός· οὕτω δὲ καὶ τοῦτο γίγνεσθαι, τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον οἷον εἰ ἐκ ζῴου ζῷον γίγνοιτο καὶ ἐκ τινὸς ζῴου τι ζῷον· οἷον εἰ κύων ἐξ ἵππου γίγνοιτο. γίγνοιτο μὲν γὰρ ἂν οὐ μόνον ἐκ τινὸς ζῴου ὁ κύων, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐκ ζῴου, ἀλλ’ οὐχ ᾗ ζῷον· ὑπάρχει γὰρ ἤδη τοῦτο· εἰ δέ τι μέλλει γίγνεσθαι ζῷον μὴ κατὰ συμβεβηκός, οὐκ ἐκ ζῴου ἔσται, καὶ εἴ τι ὄν, οὐκ ἐξ ὄντος· οὐδ’ ἐκ μὴ ὄντος· τὸ γὰρ ἐκ μὴ ὄντος εἴρηται ἡμῖν τί σημαίνει, ὅτι ᾗ μὴ ὄν.

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Doukas Kapantaïs ils ont annulé toute génération. De l’autre côté, nous, nous disons aussi que rien ne se produit ἁπλῶς du non-être, tout en disant que d’une certaine manière il se produit, comme par accident. Car, à cause de la privation (qui est non-être en soi) quelque chose se produit sans y préexister. Ceci est objet d’aporie, et il semble qu’il est impossible que quelque chose soit généré de cette manière à partir du non-être.131 De même que quelque chose soit généré à partir de l’être, ou que l’être devienne quelque chose, sinon par accident. Mais même ce dernier processus se passe de façon analogue au cas suivant: supposons que, de la même manière que l’animal est généré de l’animal, un animal d’une espèce précise est généré d’un animal d’une autre espèce. Par exemple: soit un chien généré d’un cheval. Dans ce cas le chien aurait été généré non seulement d’une espèce particulière d’animal, mais aussi d’un animal, mais non pas en tant qu’animal; ceci existait déjà. Or, si quelque chose va devenir animal de façon non accidentelle, il deviendra de quelque chose qui n’est pas animal, et si quelque chose va devenir étant, il deviendra de quelque chose qui n’est pas étant. Et on a dit déjà ce que “du non-être” veut dire; à savoir, du non-être en tant que non-être.” (trad. personnelle)

Faisons tout d’abord une constatation terminologique. L’argument aristotélicien couvre tous les deux sens possibles de l’expression “de quelque chose” (ἔκ τινος) dans l’énoncé “quelque chose est généré de quelque chose” (γίγνεσθαι ἔκ τινος τι). Son premier sens fait référence à l’agent d’une action. Son deuxième sens fait référence à la provenance de l’objet (selon notre exemple de la statue d’Hermès, au morceau de marbre).132 Ainsi: le τι dans l’énoncé ἐξ ἰατροῦ γίγνεσθαί τι peut se référer soit au résultat d’une action du médecin (sens 1), soit à ce que le médecin est devenu après avoir cessé d’être médecin (sens 2). L’établissement des ambiguïtés de ce type est important, parce que dans certains cas l’auteur de l’action et l’objet d’où provient l’étant généré se conjuguent. Dans l’énoncé ἄνθρωπος ἄνθρωπον γεννᾷ,133 l’homme est à la fois l’auteur d’une action (i.e. générateur) et un lieu de provenance. La même ambiguïté va ainsi nous amener à deux interprétations distinctes du passage 191b 19–25. Passons maintenant au cœur de l’argument. La réfutation du paradoxe est basée sur deux exemples, qui constituent deux arguments par analogie. Le premier exemple est l’exemple standard d’Aristote quant à l’illustration de la pluralité des voies d’énonciation de l’être. C’est l’exemple du médecin et de la médecine.134 Comme dans le cas du médecin, nous dit Aristote, il y a une différence entre ce que le médecin fait ou subit, ou devient en tant que médecin, et ce qu’il fait ou subit, ou devient, en tant qu’autre chose, dans le cas de l’étant il y a aussi une différence analogue entre ce qu’il fait et subit et devient en tant qu’étant, et ce qu’il fait et subit et devient en tant qu’autre chose. C’est possible pour un médecin de maçonner, mais quand le médecin maçonne, il ne maçonne pas en tant que médecin. La raison a été exposée au chapitre VIII. La fonction “x en tant que y” fait abstraction de tout autre aspect de l’objet x, sauf de celui qui est exprimé par y. Dès lors, 131 Bekker édite καὶ ἀδύνατον οὕτω δοκεῖ, γίγνεσθαί τι ἐκ μὴ ὄντος (191b 16–17), et Ross καὶ ἀδύνατον οὕτω δοκεῖ γίγνεσθαί τι, ἐκ μὴ ὄντος. Selon notre sens aucune virgule n’est ici indispensable et le sens du passage est que rien ne peut provenir du non-être selon cette manière. Ce qui est ainsi sous-entendu c’est qu’il le peut selon une autre, et cette allusion est conforme avec De Gén. et Corr. I, 3. Voir ci-dessous. 132 Cf. lemme [ἐκ] dans LSJ, op. cit., ainsi que Mét. Δ, 1023a 26ss. 133 Mét. Ζ, 1033b 32. 134 Cf. Mét. Γ, 1003a 33ss, Κ, 1060b 36 – 1061a 5.

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aucun étant ne peut maçonner en tant que médecin. Si et quand un étant maçonne, il doit maçonner en tant que maçon. De l’autre côté ce n’est pas en tant que médecin que le médecin peut devenir blanc, c’est en tant que noir.135 Les seules choses qui peut faire, subir ou devenir en tant que médecin est de soigner les patients et de perdre sa capacité de soigner les patients.136 Puisque, donc, dans la plus grande partie des cas, c’est en tant que médecin qu’on dit que le médecin agit, pâtit ou devient quelque chose, l’expression “x se génère du non-être”, doit signifier que x provient du non-être en tant que non-être. Mais le fait que cette façon de dire que quelque chose provient du non-être est la plus souvent attestée n’empêche pas qu’il y en a d’autres aussi. Et c’est précisément cette pluralité des manières de dire que quelque chose a été généré de quelque chose, qui échappait aux anciens. Cette ignorance a été la cause qui les a amenés à nier le processus de la génération. (191b 10–13) “Mais nous”, reprend Aristote, bien que nous disions aussi que rien n’est généré simplement (191b 13) du non­être, nous admettons que l’objet généré est généré du non-être, comme par accident. Et ceci parce que, à cause de la privation, qui est non­être en soi, quelque chose qui n’y existait pas a été généré. (191b 13–17) Dans notre paraphrase de l’argument des lignes b13–17 le pronom “y” de la dernière phrase semble quelque peu suspendu en l’air. Dans la phrase grecque correspondante le préfix ἐν du participe ἐνυπάρχοντος ne le semble pas moins. La raison en est que, pour que cette dernière étape de l’argument soit valide, il faut assumer un sous-jacent qui sera ce sur quoi la génération a eu lieu (i.e. le “y” dans notre paraphrase).137 Si on assume les analyses de la Physique I, 6–7, ce sous-jacent (ou ce ce­dans­quoi) devrait être la matière indéfinie. En tant que sous-jacente à la génération et à la corruption elle pourrait dissoudre le paradoxe même par rapport à la génération et à la corruption des objets singuliers.138 Or, dans le chapitre 8, où la discussion se focalise aux objets singuliers, il n’y a plus aucune mention de la matière, et ceci parce que tout objet singulier est défini, et, dès lors, ne peut pas jouer le rôle de la matière. Comme nous l’avons vu Aristote avance un argument qui vise à établir que l’objet généré n’a pas été généré en tant qu’étant. Cet argument est basé sur un deuxième exemple.139 L’analogie est ambiguë, et ceci à cause de l’ambiguïté de l’expression ἔκ τινος, telle que nous l’avons examinée auparavant. Suivons les deux exégèses possibles. (i) Soit un animal généré d’un autre animal qui n’était pas de la même espèce que l’animal généré.140 Soit un cheval ayant généré un chien. Ce qui a été généré a 135 Ce deuxième exemple sert à établir une distinction entre ce que le médecin fait ou subit et ce que ses qualités subissent. 136 Voir note précédente. 137 Même sans le préfix ἐν le verbe utilisé (ὑπάρχειν) amène à la conclusion que c’est dans quelque chose que le nouveau étant est généré. 138 Ou, du moins, c’est ce que pense Aristote en Physique I, 190b 1–10. 139 Nous n’avons adopté la conjecture de Ross. 140 Cf. la traduction de Carteron et le commentaire de Ross. Carteron (Henri), Aristote Physique (I-IV), Paris – Les Belles Lettres, (7ème tirage) 1990. Ross (David, W), Aristotle’s Physics, a revised text whith introduction and commentary, Oxford – Clarendon Press, 1936: 495.

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été généré en tant que chien, et non pas en tant qu’animal. Analogiquement: si un étant a été généré d’un autre étant, il n’a pas été généré en tant qu’étant, il a été généré en tant que quelque chose; (et ce pronom doit être une variable d’ousia ou de différence spécifique comme la différence qui nous permet de distinguer un chien d’un cheval). (ii) Soit un animal qui était un cheval devenu à un moment donné un chien.141 On ne peut pas dire que le chien a été généré en tant qu’animal, et ceci parce que le cheval était déjà un animal, et ce n’est qu’à travers une altération qu’il est devenu un chien. L’“être animal” existait déjà dans le cheval. Analogiquement: soit un étant appartenant à une certaine espèce devenant un étant appartenant à une autre espèce. Ce dernier étant ne peut pas être dit avoir été généré en tant qu’étant, et ceci parce que le premier était déjà (un) étant. Dès lors, il n’a été généré qu’en tant qu’étant quelque chose. Où ce “quelque chose” représente l’espèce en question. Abordons maintenant une dernière option exégétique, qui constitue une combinaison des deux premières: (iii) Soit le cheval engendrant le chien, de la même façon que l’homme (en tant qu’espèce) engendre l’homme.142 On ne peut pas dire que le cheval engendre le chien en tant qu’animal. L’analogie s’établit comme dans le premier cas, et aboutit à l’exclusion de la possibilité que l’étant peut engendrer l’étant en tant qu’étant. 143 Nous allons par la suite essayer de montrer qu’aucune des ces trois interprétations ne peut atteindre la conclusion visée: i.e. qu’il y ait des générations et des corruptions simples, sans que les étants générés ou corrompus se soient générés ou corrompus en tant qu’étants. Nous allons aussi essayer de montrer que ceci est dû à la primauté de la catégorie de l’ousia, et que dans le chapitre 3 du premier livre du De la Génération et de la Corruption c’est Aristote lui-même qui critique la solution proposée en Physique I, 8. Voyons maintenant pourquoi l’exemple du cheval et du chien ne peut pas atteindre son but. Même dans le cas où Aristote entend qu’un animal qui était cheval a été altéré en chien, il est très difficile de lui accorder le point qu’il veut établir. “Cheval” et “chien” sont des termes du même univers de discours que le terme “homme”. Ils sont, par conséquent, des réponses à la question τί ἔστι, quand appliquée à la caté141 Cf. Wicksteed (Philip, H.) – Cornford (Francis, M.), Aristotle, The Physics, Harvard UP (Loeb), 1957 (éd. révue). 142 Dans ce dernier cas les pronoms τινός et τι de la ligne 191b 20 seront des variables d’espèce et non pas d’animal singulier. 143 Simplicius transmet la présence de la leçon εἰ κύων ἐκ κυνὸς ἢ ἵππος que Ross améliore εἰ κύων ἐκ κυνὸς ἢ ἵππος ἐξ ἵππου (voir Ross (David, W), Aristotle’s Physics …, op. cit.: 495). Selon les options exégétiques énumérées ci-dessus la leçon transmise par Simplicius ainsi que la conjecture de Ross donnent un meilleur sens par rapport aux options (i) et (iii), et ceci parce qu’aucune altération d’espèce n’est indispensable, afin de montrer que l’animal généré n’a pas été généré en tant qu’animal. (Voir Simplicius). De l’autre côté, selon l’option (ii), la meilleure leçon est la leçon standard. Afin qu’on puisse dire que l’“être chien” a été généré, il faut que l’animal ait changé d’ousia (ici essence). Il faut, c’est-à-dire, que un et seul animal ait changé de cheval en chien. C’est pourquoi on doit, à notre sens, (et si l’on garde la leçon standard) on assumer l’option (ii).

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gorie de l’ousia. Par conséquent, de deux choses l’une. Soit on considère qu’“être cheval” et “être chien” sont en réalité des qualités d’un et un seul étant (qui s’accèdent sur cet étant),144 soit on considère qu’elles représentent les essences de deux étants distincts, et dans ce dernier cas on ne peut pas éviter d’admettre que le chien a été généré en tant qu’étant. L’option qui aurait dissout le paradoxe serait de considérer que les essences “cheval” et “chien” se succèdent sur un et un seul étant. Mais, comme nous avons vu dans le chapitre VI, cette possibilité est exclue. Notre choix, dès lors, se trouve limité à l’alternative suivante. Soit le processus de la génération et de la corruption est en réalité une espèce d’altération, soit, s’il y a de la génération et de la corruption, les objets générés et corrompus se sont générés et corrompus en tant qu’étants. Et ceci avec n’importe lequel des deux sens de l’énoncé ouvert “… a été généré en tant qu’étant”.145 Le chien a été généré en tant qu’étant parce que (i) il n’existait pas avant sa génération, mais aussi (ii) parce qu’“il” ne possédait pas cette essence particulière qu’il possède maintenant. Dans le deuxième cas la primauté de la catégorie de l’ousia fait que ce chien ne peut pas exister (en tant que quelque chose d’autre) avant qu’il soit un chien.146 Si l’option (ii) est exclue, les deux autres le sont a fortiori. Si le chien de cette expérience de pensée n’a pas été généré en tant qu’animal, alors tout étant singulier qui est généré d’un autre étant n’est pas généré en tant qu’étant. La sous-variante selon laquelle il s’agit là d’un seul animal, doit, dans cet exemple, être abandonnée. Dès lors: le chien a été généré en tant qu’étant parce que (i) il n’existait pas avant sa naissance et (ii) parce que, puisqu’il n’existait pas, il ne pouvait pas être un animal. Nous pouvons maintenant rejoindre les considérations du chapitre V, concernant l’ambiguïté du terme sous­jacent (ὑποκείμενον). La raison pour laquelle le participe ἐνυπάρχοντος de la ligne 191b 16, et le verbe ὑπάρχει de 191b 22–23 ne peuvent pas servir pour valider l’argument aristotélicien est que dans ce passage, et contrairement aux autres analyses de la Physique I, le sous-jacent n’est plus la matière indéfinie, mais un objet singulier qui est soit le générateur, soit la provenance de l’objet généré. Quand, donc, Aristote proclame que “ceci existe déjà” (ligne 191b 22–23), il faut sous-entendre que ce­dans­quoi147 “il” existe déjà est soit son générateur, soit l’étant qui l’“a précédé”. Dans les deux cas l’hypothèse est contradictoire, et ceci parce que l’existence aussi bien que l’essence du chien généré (en tant qu’essence et existence du même chien) ne peuvent pas être prédiquées ailleurs. Or, la force argumentative de l’exemple repose précisément sur le fait qu’il passe sous silence la primauté de la catégorie de l’ousia par rapport aux autres catégories. Un tel silence peut amener à croire que la statue d’Hermès et le vinaigre 144 Et, par conséquent, il n’y a plus de question de génération ou de corruption simple. Cf. le cas du dieu Nérée qui a le pouvoir de se métamorphoser en toutes sortes d’animaux. Il demeure, tout de même, le même dieu. 145 Voir chapitre X. 146 Voir nos exemples du vinaigre et de la statue d’Hermès, ainsi que la deuxième partie du présent chapitre. 147 Le ἐν du verbe ἐνυπάρχειν.

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de nos exemples n’ont pas été générés en tant qu’étants. Dès lors, si on conçoit l’existence ou l’ousia d’un objet singulier comme une de ses propriétés, on peut facilement être amené à croire que cette propriété peut varier sans que l’objet cesse d’être sous-jacent. De la même manière on peut être amené à penser que quelquesunes parmi les propriétés de l’objet existaient déjà avant sa propre génération, (comme dans l’exemple du cheval qui a généré le chien148). Or, si un objet possède (au moment de sa génération) n propriétés, e.g. P(1), P(2), …, P(n), il a été généré en tant que P(1), P(2), …, P(n). Même s’il a été généré d’un autre étant qui avait aussi quelques-unes de ces propriétés, l’étant généré ne pouvait pas les avoir aussi; il n’existait pas. Dès lors, le chien de l’exemple a été généré en tant qu’animal, tout aussi bien qu’il a été généré en tant que chien. On pourrait bien sûr “voir” dans ce passage une autre variante des solutions “archaïsantes”. On pourrait concevoir qu’Aristote est en train d’exclure la réalité de la génération et de la corruption simples. Cette interprétation pourrait s’appuyer sur l’exemple du chien, dans le cas où il s’agirait d’une altération d’un et un seul animal, mais elle sera en contradiction avec 190b 1–10. Suivons maintenant la conclusion du chapitre. Phys. I, 191b 27–34: “Ajoutons que nous ne supprimons pas l’axiome que toute chose soit est soit n’est pas (τὸ εἶναι ἅπαν ἢ μὴ εἶναι). Voilà une première explication; une autre repose sur la distinction entre la puissance et l’acte; mais on l’a définie ailleurs avec plus de précision. […] C’est pour ces raisons que les anciens s’égaraient tant dans l’étude de la génération et de la corruption et en général du changement; car il aurait suffi de regarder la nature pour dissiper leur méprise.” (trad. Carteron – modifiée) τὸ εἶναι ἅπαν ἢ μὴ εἶναι est l’abréviation standard d’Aristote pour la loi du tiers exclu. Et la raison pour laquelle (selon Aristote) le tiers exclu n’est pas violé ici est déjà examinée dans les Réfutations Sophistiques.149

Ce qui est très important du point de vue exégétique est qu’Aristote indique, dans le même passage, que la solution du paradoxe, comme elle vient d’être analysée, n’est pas la seule possible; l’autre est celle qui utilise les notions de la puissance et de l’acte. La référence (191b 29) a toujours embarrassé les commentateurs,150 mais nous pensons que cette solution peut être reconstruite à travers le passage qu’on examinera maintenant. B. De Gén. et Corr. I, 317a 32– 317b 5151: “Ces distinctions faites, il faut d’abord examiner s’il y a quelque chose qui se génère ἁπλῶς et se corrompe, ou s’il n’y a rien qui se génère et se 148 i.e. l’“être animal”, l’“être quadrupède” etc. 149 Voir chap. VII. 150 Cf. Philopone, Ross (David, W.), Aristotle’s Physics …, op. cit.: 496, Cornford (Francis M.), Aristotle: Physics …, op. cit. 151 Διωρισμένων δὲ τούτων, πρῶτον θεωρητέον πότερον ἔστι τι γινόμενον ἁπλῶς καὶ φθειρόμενον, ἢ κυρίως μὲν οὐδέν, ἀεὶ δ’ ἔκ τινος καὶ τί, λέγω δ’ οἷον ἐκ κάμνοντος ὑγιαῖνον καὶ κάμνον ἐξ ὑγιαίνοντος, ἢ μικρὸν ἐκ μεγάλου καὶ μέγα ἐκ μικροῦ, καὶ τἆλλα πάντα τοῦτον τὸν τρόπον. εἰ γὰρ ἁπλῶς ἔσται γένεσις, ἁπλῶς ἄν τι γίνοιτο ἐκ μὴ

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corrompe à proprement parler, mais toute chose se génère de quelque chose, et devient quelque chose. Des exemples de ce dernier cas sont le malade qui vient du bien portant et le bien portant qui vient du malade, le grand qui vient du petit et le petit qui vient du grand, etc. S’il y avait, en effet, de la génération ἁπλῶς, quelque chose aurait été généré ἁπλῶς du non-être, et par conséquent on dirait avec raison que le “non-être” peut être attribué à certains sujets. Car, la génération d’un être quelque chose procède du non­être quelque chose (exemples: du non blanc ou du non bon), tandis que la génération simple procède de ce qui ἁπλῶς n’est pas.” (trad. personnelle)

Ce qui vient d’être déterminé (317a 32) est que la génération ne peut pas être une simple association (σύγκρισις), comme le veulent les atomistes.152 Ce qui va être maintenant considéré, c’est si toutes les générations ont lieu sur un objet sous-jacent, ou s’il y a aussi des générations simples.153 Les générations qui s’effectuent sur un sous-jacent sont les générations des qualités comme la maladie ou la bonne santé, la grandeur et la petitesse.154 Or, le grand défi est d’examiner s’il y a une sorte de génération qui n’est pas une génération qui procède d’un non-être quelque chose, (où ce “quelque chose” est une variable de qualité), mais une génération simple (voire la génération de l’objet luimême ou de son essence). Le problème qui se présente dans une telle possibilité est que cette génération serait une génération qui proviendrait du non­être ἁπλῶς (317b 2).155 La raison est la suivante. Les générations des qualités sont des changements qui procèdent du sous-jacent pour aboutir au sous-jacent. Avant la génération simple l’objet généré n’existait pas: il n’était pas sous-jacent. Comment donc éviter d’admettre qu’il y a une génération à partir du non-être ἁπλῶς? La seule solution est la suivante: Il serait vrai de dire que le non­être peut être prédiqué à quelques objets.156 Dès lors, nous rencontrons ici encore un cas de l’ambiguïté des énoncés qui prédiquent l’existence au non-être. Car, ce qui constitue le caractère paradoxal de cette solution n’est pas la possibilité que quelques objets n’existent pas avant leur génération, mais qu’il faut assumer qu’ils existent, afin de contourner la possibilité de la génération à partir du non-être ἁπλῶς. Cette solution est à peine moins paradoxale que la génération ex nihilo, et Aristote consacre le reste du chapitre à une considération détaillée du mode d’“existence” de ce non-être qui précède la génération simple et qui, tout de même, “existe”.

152 153 154 155 156

ὄντος, ὥστ’ ἀληθὲς ἂν εἴη λέγειν ὅτι ὑπάρχει τισὶ τὸ μὴ ὄν· τὶς μὲν γὰρ γένεσις ἐκ μὴ ὄντος τινός, οἷον ἐκ μὴ λευκοῦ ἢ μὴ καλοῦ, ἡ δὲ ἁπλῆ ἐξ ἁπλῶς μὴ ὄντος. (text, Joachim (H., H.), Aristotle’s on-coming-to-be and passing-away, Oxford, 1922.) De Gén. et Corr., I 317a 2–32. Le terme sous-jacent n’apparaît pas dans le passage. Il est, tout de même, clair qu’en utilisant ces exemples particuliers, Aristote n’aurait pas pu vouloir dire autre chose. Les ἔκ τινος et καὶ τί de la ligne 317a 34 devraient être des variables de qualité et non pas d’objet singulier. ἁπλῶς ἄν τι γίνοιτο ἐκ μὴ ὄντος pourrait aussi être traduit “quelque chose aurait été généré ἁπλῶς du non-être”. Sur cette ambiguïté voir le commentaire de Simplicius sur le commentaire d’Alexandre. De Gén. et Corr. 317b 3: ὑπάρχει τισὶ τὸ μὴ ὄν. dans notre paraphrase nous avons assumé que l’expression ὑπάρχει τινὶ τί a son usage technique habituel.

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Tout d’abord il établit une ambiguïté de l’expression μὴ ὂν ἁπλῶς qui est à plusieurs égards analogue à l’ambiguïté de l’expression “être ἁπλῶς”, esquissée dans le chapitre VIII. De Gén. et Corr. I, 317b 5–7: τὸ δ᾽ ἁπλῶς ἤτοι τὸ πρῶτον καθ’ ἑκάστην κατηγορίαν τοῦ ὄντος, ἢ τὸ καθόλου καὶ τὸ πάντα περιέχον. “Or, le terme ἁπλῶς signifie soit le primordial par rapport à chaque catégorie, soit l’universel et le tout incluant.” (trad. personnelle)

Le ἁπλῶς, dit Aristote, signifie (σημαίνει) soit le “primordial” (τὸ πρῶτον) par rapport à chaque catégorie (καθ᾽ ἐκάστην κατηγορίαν) de l’être, soit l’universel (τὸ καθόλου) qui embrasse tout (τὸ πάντα περιέχον).157 Selon St Thomas d’Aquin158 la description définie τὸ πρῶτον καθ᾽ ἐκάστην κατηγορίαν dénote l’ousia de l’objet, tandis que selon Philopone159 il dénote chaque catégorie dans sa plus grande généralité. Philopone nous semble être plus fidèle au grec, tandis que St Thomas est plus proche de l’évolution de l’argument.160 Mais même selon l’interprétation de Philopone les deux sens de l’expression “le non-être simple” correspondent à un usage non­catégorial, et un usage catégorial. Quelque chose qui est un μὴ ὂν ἁπλῶς est (selon le deuxième sens), quelque chose qui n’existe pas (tout court), tandis que, selon le premier, il est quelque chose qui n’existe pas en tant que quelque chose, son ousia y incluse. Aristote procède maintenant à une critique de la soit disant “existence” du non­ être simple (selon les deux sens de l’adverbe ἁπλῶς). De Gén. et Corr. I, 317b 7–14161: “S’il signifie le primordial, il y aurait de la génération d’ousia à partir de non-ousia. Mais ce qui n’a pas d’ousia ni de détermination, il est clair qu’il ne peut avoir aucune des autres catégories, telles que la qualité, la quantité, le lieu etc.; s’il le pouvait, les qualités pourraient être séparées de l’ousia. Si, de l’autre côté, il signifie le non-être en général, ce sera la négation universelle de tout prédicat, et, dès lors, l’objet généré devrait avoir été généré à partir du néant. Toutes ces questions ont été, dans d’autres endroits, discutées et définies plus amplement.” (trad. personnelle)

(i) Sens catégorial. (317b 7–11) Afin d’illustrer l’argument aristotélicien, nous allons reprendre l’exemple de Socrate. Le problème (dans la possibilité que quelquesunes des qualités de Socrate puissent être possédées par un autre étant) est que ces 157 Nous ne voyons aucune autre solution que celle de considérer que cette dernière formule dénoterait le “genre de l’être”: si tel genre, il y avait. 158 Aquinas (St. Thomas), In Aristotelis Libros De Caelo et Mundo, De Generatione et Corruptione, Meteorologicorum Expositio, éd. Spiazzi (R.M.), OP, Turin: Marietti, 1952: 342, 344 (point 47). 159 Philoponus, In Aristotelis Libros De Generatione et Corruptione Commentaria, éd. Vitelli (H.), dans: Commentaria in Aristotelem Graeca, vol. XIV, 2, Berlin, 1897: 46–47. 160 Cf. le commentaire de C. J. F. Williams. Williams (C., J., F.), Aristotle’s De Generatione et Corruptione, Oxford – Clarendon Press, 1982: 81–83. 161 εἰ μὲν οὖν τὸ πρῶτον, οὐσίας ἔσται γένεσις ἐκ μὴ οὐσίας· ᾧ δὲ μὴ ὑπάρχει οὐσία μηδὲ τὸ τόδε, δῆλον ὡς οὐδὲ τῶν ἄλλων οὐδεμία κατηγοριῶν, οἷον οὔτε ποιὸν οὔτε ποσὸν οὔτε τὸ ποῦ (χωριστὰ γὰρ ἂν εἴη τὰ πάθη τῶν οὐσιῶν)· εἰ δὲ τὸ μὴ ὂν ὅλως, ἀπόφασις ἔσται καθόλου πάντων, ὥστε ἐκ μηδενὸς ἀνάγκη γίνεσθαι τὸ γινόμενον. περὶ μὲν οὖν τούτων ἐν ἄλλοις τε διηπόρηται καὶ διώρισται τοῖς λόγοις ἐπὶ πλεῖον· […] text Joachim, op. cit.

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qualités pourraient, d’un côté, exister séparément de lui et que (en même temps) elles pourraint subsister en tant que qualités de Socrate. La conséquence absurde est que Socrate n’existerait pas en tant qu’étant, tandis qu’“il” existerait en tant qu’au­ tre chose. Or, si un étant qui n’a pas l’essence de Socrate (i.e. qui n’est pas Socrate),162 a quelques qualités, ces qualités sont les qualités de cet autre étant, même dans le cas où ce dernier est son générateur ou sa matière ultime. Les qualités de Socrate ne peuvent pas préexister avant que l’essence vienne les adjoindre. (ii) Sens non-catégorial. (317b 12–14). Le fait que cette forme de génération simple est impossible est a fortiori. Le non-être totalement (τὸ μὴ ὂν ἁπλῶς), dit Aristote, est exprimé par une négation universelle de tout prédicat (ἀπόφασις ἔσται καθόλου πάντων).163 Dès lors, il est le néant, et à partir du néant rien ne peut être généré. Selon tous les commentateurs, la référence qui suit juste après correspond aux chapitres 6 à 9 de la Physique I. Selon nous, le passage constitue aussi une critique de l’argument en faveur de la réalité de la génération simple, telle qu’il a été avancé en Physique I, 8, 191a 23 – b27. Jusqu’à ce point la critique correspond à la première façon de résoudre le paradoxe (Physique I, 191b 27). Cette solution s’appuyait sur une décomposition des aspects de l’étant généré, dont le résultat était que quelques-uns des ces aspects164 pouvaient préexister dans un autre étant. Mais dès que le principe selon lequel les passions ne peuvent pas exister séparément de l’ousia est introduit, l’argument s’effondre. De Gén. et Corr. I, 317b 14–16165: “mais il fait dire brièvement (même dans la présente analyse) que d’une certaine manière l’objet généré est généré à partir du non-être absolu, tandis que d’une autre, il est toujours généré à partir de l’être.” (trad. personnelle)

Dire que d’une certaine manière l’étant se génère à partir du non­étant équivaut à admettre que (selon cette même manière), la peur des anciens était bien justifiée. La primauté de l’ousia ne laisse aucun doute que le non-être simple des objets ne peut avoir aucune mode d’existence. Mais l’autre manière aussi (i.e. celle qui s’appuie sur la décomposition des aspects de l’objet, et qui peut s’identifier à l’argument général de la Physique I, 8), sera peu après mise en cause. Comme nous avons vu dans le chapitre VII, la solution “selon la puissance et l’acte” est un élargissement de la solution basée sur la décomposition des aspects de l’objet par le moyen des dix catégories. Par la suite Aristote va critiquer cette solution en s’appuyant, encore une fois, sur le fait qu’aucune catégorie ne peut subsister (même en puissance) séparément de l’ousia. 162 Nous avons évité de considérer que l’essence de Socrate est “être homme” pour ne pas affronter les difficultés présentées dans le chapitre IX. 163 Nous nous sommes permis cette paraphrase, bien que “la négation universelle” ait suffi. Bien évidement, selon notre paraphrase, il faut assumer qu’on peut former des prédicats à partir des noms propres et des essences des individus. 164 Et en tant qu’aspects de l’étant généré. 165 συντόμως δὲ καὶ νῦν λεκτέον, ὅτι τρόπον μέν τινα ἐκ μὴ ὄντος ἁπλῶς γίνεται, τρόπον δὲ ἄλλον ἐξ ὄντος ἀεί· […] texte Joachim, op. cit.

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L’argument qui va être avancé concerne la distinction entre l’acte et la puis­ sance, tout en l’incorporant à la décomposition des aspects de l’objet. De Gén. et Corr. I, 317b 16–18166: “Ceci est parce que l’étant en puissance qui n’est pas étant en entéléchie, doit préexister selon ces deux manières .” (trad. personnelle)

Ce qui est déclaré au début, c’est qu’il est nécessaire que l’étant en puissance préexiste selon les deux sens de l’expression provenir du non­être. Cette déclaration sera immédiatement mise en question, et ceci à cause d’une “aporie majeure”. De Gén. et Corr. I, 317b 18–20167: “Mais, même une fois ces distinctions établies, voici qu’une aporie majeure se présente, et il convient de revenir sur nos pas, en vue d’un nouvel examen: comment peut-il y avoir génération simple soit qu’elle se produise à partir de l’être en puissance, soit d’une autre manière.” (trad. Tricot – modifiée)

Le problème est que, même après la décomposition des aspects de l’objet généré et l’application de la distinction entre acte et puissance, on n’arrive pas à affirmer que l’objet ne provient pas du non­être ἁπλῶς. La raison est encore une fois la primauté de la catégorie de l’ousia. De Gén. et Corr. I, 317b 20–33168: “Car, quelqu’un aurait pu soulever la question s’il y a de la génération de l’ousia et du déterminé,169 et non pas de la qualité, de la quantité et du lieu. (Cette même personne pourrait poser la question symétrique par rapport à la corruption). Si quelque chose se trouve être générée, il est clair qu’il y aura une ousia en puissance et non pas en entéléchie; et ce sera de cette ousia en puissance que la génération procédera, et à laquelle la chose corrompue aboutira nécessairement. Y-aura-t-il donc dans cet objet une des autres catégories non pas en puissance mais en entéléchie? Je veux dire par là: ce qui n’est étant et déterminé qu’en puissance, mais pas ἁπλῶς, aura-t-il de la quantité, de la qualité ou un lieu ? Car, si (i) il n’y a en acte aucune , mais que toutes sont en puissance, il arrive qu’un tel être soit séparé170 et il arrive, en outre, ce que les premiers 166 τὸ γὰρ δυνάμει ὂν ἐντελεχείᾳ δὲ μὴ ὂν ἀνάγκη προϋπάρχειν λεγόμενον ἀμφοτέρως. texte Joachim, op. cit. 167 ὃ δὲ καὶ τούτων διωρισμένων ἔχει θαυμαστὴν ἀπορίαν, πάλιν ἐπαναποδιστέον, πῶς ἔστιν ἁπλῆ γένεσις, εἴτ’ ἐκ δυνάμει ὄντος οὖσα εἴτε καί πως ἄλλως. texte Joachim, op. cit. 168 ἀπορήσειε γὰρ ἄν τις ἆρ’ ἔστιν οὐσίας γένεσις καὶ τοῦ τοῦδε, ἀλλὰ μὴ τοῦ τοιοῦδε καὶ τοσοῦδε καὶ ποῦ (τὸν αὐτὸν δὲ τρόπον καὶ περὶ φθορᾶς). εἰ γάρ τι γίνεται, δῆλον ὡς ἔσται δυνάμει τις οὐσία, ἐντελεχείᾳ δ’ οὔ, ἐξ ἧς ἡ γένεσις ἔσται καὶ εἰς ἣν ἀνάγκη μεταβάλλειν τὸ φθειρόμενον· πότερον οὖν ὑπάρξει τι τούτῳ τῶν ἄλλων ἐντελεχείᾳ; λέγω δ’ οἷον ἆρ’ ἔσται ποσὸν ἢ ποιὸν ἢ ποῦ τὸ δυνάμει μόνον τόδε καὶ ὄν, ἁπλῶς δὲ μὴ τόδε μηδ’ ὄν; εἰ γὰρ μηδὲν ἀλλὰ πάντα δυνάμει, χωριστόν τε συμβαίνει τὸ μὴ οὕτως ὂν καὶ ἔτι, ὃ μάλιστα φοβούμενοι διετέλεσαν οἱ πρῶτοι φιλοσοφήσαντες, τὸ ἐκ μηδενὸς γίνεσθαι προϋπάρχοντος· εἰ δὲ τὸ μὲν εἶναι τόδε τι ἢ οὐσίαν οὐχ ὑπάρξει, τῶν δ’ ἄλλων τι τῶν εἰρημένων, ἔσται, καθάπερ εἴπομεν, χωριστὰ τὰ πάθη τῶν οὐσιῶν. texte Joachim, op. cit. 169 En accord avec Joachim pour qui τόδε (τι) ne signifie pas ici l’individu mais la détermination: “a this”. Joachim, (H., H.), Aristotle’s on-coming-to-be …, op. cit.; ad loc; nous aimerions ajouter: la détermination qui est aussi une différence spécifique et pas une simple qualification. Voir aussi: Mugler (Charles), Aristote, de la génération et de la corruption, Paris, les Belles Lettres, 1966. Contra Tricot (Jules), Aristote, de la génération et de la corruption, Paris, Vrin 1993 (1ère éd. 1933), et Williams (C., J., F.), Aristotle’s De Generatione …, op. cit. 170 D’accord avec Joachim (H., H.), Aristotle’s on-coming-to-be …, op. cit.; ad. loc.

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philosophes ont redouté de plus: i.e. qu’il y ait de la génération sans que rien ne préexiste. Mais aussi (ii) s’il n’y a pas dans l’objet l’“être déterminé” et l’“être ousia”, tandis qu’il s’y trouve un autre “être” correspondant à une autre catégorie parmi celles que nous avons mentionnées, il arrivera, comme nous l’avons dit, que les qualités subsistent séparément de l’ousia.” (trad. personnelle)

La raison pour laquelle le paradoxe demeure pertinent est la suivante. (i) Avant sa génération l’objet généré ne peut exister qu’en puissance. (ii) Pour que l’objet ne soit pas généré à partir du non-être ἁπλῶς, il faut que quelques-uns de ses aspects171 préexistent (non pas en puissance mais en acte). (iii) Aucun aspect de l’objet ne peut subsister séparément de son ousia. Ergo: avant la génération de l’objet, tous ses aspects existent en puissance. Si les choses sont ainsi, les anciens avaient bien raison d’avoir peur que la génération puisse sortir du néant. Par la suite, et jusqu’à la fin du chapitre,172 Aristote reprend le schéma de la matière indéfinie (de la Physique I) ou exploite des solutions plus ou moins archaïsantes. *** Dans la Physique I la nature a pu procurer (quand contemplée correctement) la clef pour la dissolution de la peur des anciens. Cette clef était constituée par un argument fondé sur trois notions centrales: la matière, les contraires et la privation. Tout processus de génération et de corruption a lieu sur la matière du monde sublunaire, qui reste toujours sous-jacente. Dès lors, la matière indéfinie (ou les éléments) constitue le sous-jacent indispensable pour la dissolution du paradoxe. L’outil de la distinction entre acte et puissance peut être aussi utilisé pour une solution identique. La matière, (ou les éléments fondamentaux) sont en puissance tous les êtres. Or, dès que la discussion se déplace de la matière indéfinie aux objets singuliers, le paradoxe est réintroduit. Ceci est dû au fait qu’un objet singulier ne peut pas être en puissance un autre objet. De plus, la solution selon le sous-jacent ne peut plus être appliquée. Toute génération d’un objet singulier est une génération, qui part du non-(sous-jacent) pour aboutir au sous-jacent. Dès lors, l’objet généré ne peut pas exister avant sa génération. La solution selon laquelle quelques-uns parmi les aspects de l’objet généré existaient déjà avant sa génération, et que, par conséquent, l’objet généré ne provient pas du totalement non-être (ὅλως μὴ ὄν) est empêchée à cause du principe de la non-existence séparée des qualités. Le même vaut (mutatis mutandis) pour le processus de la corruption. En général: à l’optimisme radical du premier livre de la Physique, par rapport à l’injustifié de la peur des anciens, succède l’optimisme modéré du De la Génération 171 i.e. quantité, qualité, lieu e.c.t. 172 319b 5.

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et de la Corruption. Si les sous-jacents sont les objets, leurs générations et leurs corruptions procèdent du néant et aboutissent au néant. OUVRAGES CITÉS Aquinas St. Th., In Aristotelis Libros De Caelo et Mundo, De Generatione et Corruptione, Meteorologicorum Expositio, éd. Spiazzi (R.M.), OP, Turin: Marietti, 1952 Brunschwig J., Aristote Topiques, (I–IV), Paris, Belles Lettres, 1967 Carteron H., Aristote Physique (I–IV), Paris – Les Belles Lettres, (7ème tirage) 1990 Joachim H. H., Aristotle’s on-coming-to-be and passing-away, Oxford, 1922 Mugler C., Aristote, de la génération et de la corruption, Paris, les Belles Lettres, 1966 Philoponus, In Aristotelis Libros De Generatione et Corruptione Commentaria, éd. Vitelli (H.), dans: Commentaria in Aristotelem Graeca, vol. XIV, 2, Berlin, 1897 Ross D. W., Aristotle’s Metaphysics, a revised text with introduction and commentary, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1924 Ross D. W., Aristotle’s Physics, a revised text whith introduction and commentary, Oxford – Clarendon Press, 1936 Tricot J., Aristote, de la génération et de la corruption, Paris, Vrin 1993 (1ère éd. 1933) Van Heijenoort J., From Frege to Gödel, A Source Book in Mathematical Logic, 1879–1931, Cambridge Mass. Harvard UP, 1967 Waitz Th., Aristotelis Organon graece, Leipzig, 1844–46 Wicksteed Ph. H., Cornford (Francis, M.), Aristotle, The Physics, Harvard UP (Loeb), 1957 (éd. révue) Williams C. J. F., Aristotle’s De Generatione et Corruptione, Oxford – Clarendon Press, 1982

LISTE DES ABRÉVIATIONS Cat.: De Int.: An. Pr.: An. Post.: Top.: Réf. Sof.: De Gén. et Corr.: Phys.: Météor.: De An.: MXG: Mét.: Pol.:

Catégories De l’Interprétation Analytiques Premiers Analytiques Secondes Topiques Réfutations Sophistiques De la Génération et de la Corruption Physique Météorologiques De l’Âme De Melissus, Xenophanes, Gorgias. Métaphysique Politiques

(Sinon autrement indiqué, nous suivons le text d’Oxford.) Alex.: Ascl.: Amm.: Simpl.:

Alexandre Asclepius Ammonius Simplicius

***

(Les références aux commentateurs est ad loc, et à leurs commentaires selon CAG.)

22 “Cet étant n’a pas été généré en tant qu’étant”?

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DK: Diels H., Kranz W., Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, griechisch und deutsch, 5ème éd., Berlin, 1934–1937; 1ère éd. Diels (Hermann), 1903 LSJ: Liddell H.G., Scott R., Jones H.S., A Greek-English lexicon, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1968; Revised Supplement, Oxford 1996. 1ère édition 1843

23 LA NOTION DE LUXE (POLUTELEIA) SELON LES CYNIQUES ET LES STOÏCIENS : LE PERSONNAGE D´HÉRACLÈS Maria Protopapas­Marneli Abstract In this article I shall present the way in which Cynics and Stoics tried to combine the notion of luxury, deemed to be incompatible with the life of the sage, with Heracles’ simplicity and capacity to endure pain. I shall also deal with how nature includes simplicity and luxury at the same time. Parler du luxe ou essayer de le définir en philosophie, cela conduirait la discussion dans une impasse, dans la mesure où philosopher revoie à un discours comportant en soi des limites puisées dans la logique. Pourtant le luxe (poluteleia) annonce déjà un dépassement de la mesure, un excès et, en conséquence, une privation de raison, comme nous allons le voir par la suite.1 C’est dans ce cadre que nous nous proposons de dégager les traits constitutifs de cette notion telle que fut envisagée à l’époque hellénistique, lors de la naissance de la pensée cynique et stoïcienne qui fonctionna comme facteur conciliateur entre l’acceptation du luxe dans l’architecture et les mœurs de la cité et celle du luxe déployé dans la nature. Afin de suivre ce processus nous avons divisé notre propos en trois parties qui portent respectivement: (a) sur l’étymologie grecque des notions de simplicité (euteleia), d’accomplissement (enteleia) et de luxe (poluteleia); (b) sur l’interprétation du personnage d’Héraclès, désormais revu comme exercice révélateur des principes de la morale cynique et stoïcienne, fondés sur un exercice continu de peines suivi d’une attitude de vie simple à l’excès; (c) sur le rapport des étymologies des noms, inventées par Cléanthe d’Assos portant notamment sur Apollon (Lycéen), par rapport à la notion de luxe en tant que démesure et qu’épanouissement à la fois de la beauté cosmique.2

1 2

Article rédigé en mémoire du Professeur Ioannis Taïfakos, fidèle collaborateur et ami. Macr. Sat. I, 17, 36 (=S.V.F., III, 36, 249, 23): “Apollinis Lycii plures accipimus cognominis causas. Antipater Stoicus Lycium Apollinem nuncupatum scribit ἀπὸ τοῦ λευκαίνεσθαι πάντα φωτίζοντος ἡλίου”.

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23.1 ÉTYMOLOGIE DES TERMES Dans son Oraison Funèbre, prononcée lors des funérailles des militaires morts au cours de la première année de la guerre du Péloponnèse, Périclès met l’accent sur le progrès athénien fondé sur une culture qui ne vise point le luxe, mais la modération: “Nous cultivons le beau dans la simplicité, et les choses de l’esprit sans manquer de fermeté”.3 La note de J. de Romilly portant sur l’interprétation de la phrase citée ci-dessus, montre bien qu’il aurait pu y avoir un malentendu par rapport au mot “simplicité” (εὐτέλεια)4 s’accordant mal avec les constructions de l’Acropole réalisées pendant l’archontat de Périclès. Le général, selon J. de Romilly, fait justement allusion aux idéaux éternels des Athéniens et non certes aux monuments luxueux récents qui, par la suite, on le sait, lui attirèrent des soucis à cause d’une accusation pour dépenses excessives.5 On sait par ailleurs, que les Grecs furent les premiers à concevoir la notion de mesure (μέτρον). C’est par ce terme qu’ils qualifièrent l’homme modéré, qui agit de manière ne comportant “rien de trop” (μηδὲν ἄγαν);6 la notion de mesure scella la pensée philosophique dès ses origines pour finir, avec les Cyniques et, au delà, avec les Stoïciens, à signifier un dépassement de limites et partant un excès de simplicité que l’on pourrait définir comme ἀ-τέλεια, à savoir comme une privation de mesure, donc, une imperfection. Ainsi, la phrase imputée à Cléobule de Rhodes: “la mesure est la meilleure des choses”;7 ou bien cette fameuse phrase attribuée à Solon, déjà citée: “rien de trop”,8 montrent-elles bien le respect que les Grecs accordaient à cette notion. Dans le domaine ontologique et axiologique, la mesure, comme médiété recherchée et qui n’est pas sans rapport étymologique avec le terme aristotélicien de la vertu de mesotes9 présente également une connotation qualitative ou quantitative concrète et, en conséquence, requiert un qualificatif, comme l’est, par exemple l’adverbe (εὐ).10 Dans le cas de l’εὐτέλεια, l’élément εὐ fonctionne positivement, comme indicatif d’une subtile supériorité, qui n’annonce pas encore un dépassement de mesure mais qui dénote un accomplissement kaïrique, à savoir le bon achèvement de l’action présumée. Ainsi l’εὐτέλεια implique la fin (τέλος) parfaite d’une action qui débute par un bon commencement (εὐ) pour se terminer par un accomplissement parfait sans défaut, εὐ-τέλεια, d’une succession et qui diffère de 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

10

Thu. La guerre du Péloponèse, texte établi et traduit par J. de Romilly, Paris 1967, livre II, XL, 1 et n. 40.1, 97: φιλοκαλοῦμέν τε γὰρ μετ’ εὐτελείας καὶ φιλοσοφοῦμεν ἄνευ μαλακίας. Cf. F. Montanari, Vocabolario della lingua greca, Torino, Loescher Editore, 2004 (1995) 895– 896. Plu. Per. XII, 2–5. Thgn. Élégies, L. 1, ligne 335; Pi. fr. 35 b. Fr. I, 63, 2 D.-K. Cf. D.L., Vies et opinions des philosophes, Paris, 1962, I, 93. Fr., Ι, 63, 14. D.-K. Cf. D.L., I, 63, 23. Arist., EN, 1108b11–19: Τριῶν δὴ διαθέσεων οὐσῶν, δύο μὲν κακιῶν, τῆς μὲν καθ’ ὑπερβολὴν τῆς δὲ κατ’ ἔλλειψιν, μιᾶς δ’ ἀρετῆς τῆς μεσότητος, πᾶσαι πάσαις ἀντίκεινταί πως; 1109a20–1109b26: Ὅτι μὲν οὖν ἐστὶν ἡ ἀρετὴ ἡ ἠθικὴ μεσότης, καὶ πῶς, καὶ ὅτι μεσότης δύο κακιῶν, τῆς μὲν καθ’ ὑπερβολὴν τῆς δὲ κατ’ ἔλλειψιν. E. Moutsopoulos, L’éthique de Démocrite, une éthique de kairos ?, in: Textes sur Démocrite, Premier Colloque International sur Démocrite, Xanthi, 1983, Xanthi, 1984, 137–145 (139).

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l’ἐντέλεια,11 terme indicatif d’une fin portant en elle-même aussi bien la perfection que l’achèvement de l’action. À ces deux termes cités s’oppose un troisième, qui porte lui aussi, comme deuxième élément le mot telos, mais qui à l’inverse des préfixes a-(négatif) et eu– (adverbial), est, à son tour, formé à l’aide du préfixe adverbial polu = πολυτέλεια. Ce préfixe est déjà indicatif d’un πλέον (plus) désignant un nombre indéfini de causes mais aussi des buts (τέλη). Or début et fin contiennent voire impliquent respectivement l’excès, à savoir la démesure. Aussi πολυτέλεια dénote-t-elle de par son étymologie une absence de mesure, un ἄ-μετρον, qui, loin d’être tempéré (εὔ-μετρον, μέτριον), aboutit à une privation et par là même, par la privation ou absence de mesure, à une confusion, à un embarras, à une fin illogique, digne d’un esprit à un état de déviation de mesure, à savoir à la déraison. Le luxe (πολυτέλεια)12 dans la pensée philosophique mais aussi en général, renvoyait plutôt aux mœurs et coutumes asiatiques, mal vues, d’ailleurs par les Grecs en raison de leurs prétendues outrances. Déjà dans la tradition des philosophes, il faut rappeler qu’Aristote était souvent critiqué par les Athéniens pour ses beaux vêtements luxueux, pour son habitude à porter des bagues et à se raser la barbe.13 Or Théophraste également, son successeur, malgré le respect que le peuple d’Athènes14 lui témoignait, grâce à sa personnalité et à son génie philosophique, fut critiqué pour l’abondance, la recherche et le luxe de ses banquets15 qui ne correspondaient point avec la simplicité de ses vêtements et qui ne se conformaient pas non plus à une table de philosophe. Il est certes indéniable que les événements historiques influencent la vie politique et la vie intellectuelle des cités. Ce fut le cas de la conquête de la Grèce méridionale d’abord par le roi Philippe II de Macédoine, qui se paracheva, par son fils Alexandre, lequel modifia le destin et les mœurs grecs en incorporant toute l’Asie et l’Égypte à son royaume.16

11 12 13 14 15 16

Cf. F. Montanari, Vocabolario …, 734. Cf. F. Montanari, Vocabolario …, 726. D.L., V, 1. D.L., V, 37, 41. Cf. Ath., Deipnososphistes, 4.1–5̇5, 32–37. P. Lévêque, Le monde hellénistique, Paris, 1969, 12. Et l’on constate en général une transformation, voire altération, aux mœurs et coutumes grecs qui débute avec l’avènement de la monarchie d’Alexandre et continue pendant l’époque hellénistique dans tous les domaines de la vie, aussi publique que privée. Cf. p. ex. Ath., Deipnosophistes, l.12̇50, 6 ; A.-J. Festugière, La vie spirituelle en Grèce à l’époque hellénistique ou Les besoins de l’esprit dans un monde raffiné, Paris, 1977, 40–45.

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23.2 L’INTERPRÉTATION DU PERSONNAGE D’HÉRACLÈS, DÉSORMAIS REVU COMME RÉVÉLATEUR DES PRINCIPES DE LA MORALE CYNIQUE ET STOÏCIENNE FONDÉS SUR UN EXERCICE CONTINU DE PEINES Les outrances de la vie luxueuse de type asiatique soulèvent la critique des courants philosophiques de l’époque, surtout des Cyniques, par la suite des Stoïciens, qui s’inscrivent dans la tradition qui fit d’Héraclès le modèle de leurs idéaux moraux.17 Ce personnage légendaire d’Argos, au prix des peines et des travaux proprement herculéens, s’employait à libérer les pauvres gens de la tyrannie des puissants et de l’arbitraire des forces naturelles.18 Héraclès, ainsi idéalisé, se présente-t-il comme l’exemple de celui qui supporte les peines afin de découvrir en lui-même la force de choisir au lieu de la voie facile et sans peine du Mal, celle, difficile et épineuse de la Vertu. Cet effort de progrès et d’amélioration de la nature humaine, les Cyniques la désignaient du nom de travail. Écoutons Antisthène: “Le travail (πόνος) est un bien; c’est ce qu’a montré Héraclès chez les Grecs”;19 ce héros au caractère profondément humain, choisit, en définitive, grâce à son héroïsme moral, le chemin de la Vertu.20 Le renouveau du personnage d’Héraclès s’inscrit dans le cadre des événements historiques qui portent toujours un impact sur la culture, tout en imposant des idées philosophiques nouvelles. Il s’en suit que la manière dont le monde est dirigé se répercute sur la conception théorique que l’on se fait de ce monde. Alors que la philosophie de l’époque classique s’était centrée sur les grandes questions existentielles et sur le bien commun en critiquant tout ce qui n’était pas grec, celle de la période hellénistique se fait plus ouverte aux autres cultures tout en se rendant plus individuelle et, en même temps, plus universelle. Dans ce milieu ébranlé par des mutations politiques et sociales, on assiste à l’émergence d’un nombre considérable d’écoles philosophiques, ayant toutes pour objectif central d’offrir à l’homme de l’époque hellénistique un art de vivre et, partant, son bonheur. Ces écoles21 préconisaient un modèle de vie éloigné de tout enseignement (conçu à son sens contemporain), en raison du fait que celui-ci a pour vocation d’insérer l’individu dans la société. Épicure, quant à lui, proposait comme modèle de bonheur la solitude entre amis de son Jardin plutôt que la vie en société ouverte à laquelle l’enseignement était censé préparer.22 Considéré par ces écoles comme un outil visant à imposer “la tyrannie” du monde extérieur, l’enseignement y demeurait indésirable, voire exclu. Les Cyniques enseignaient que l’homme ne peut être heu17 18 19 20 21 22

G. K. Galinsky, The Herakles Theme. The Adaptations of the Hero in Literature from Homer to the Twentieth Century, Oxford, 1972, 5. Cf. L. Paquet, Les Cyniques Grecs, Fragments et témoignages, Ottawa, 1975, 10. D.L., VI, 2. Selon le témoignage de D.L., VI, 105, Antisthène écrivit un traité Héraclès, consacré à l’héros. J. Pépin, Mythe et allégorie. Les origines grecques et les contestations judéo-chrétiennes, Paris Études augustiniennes, 1986 (1976), 104. Les Cyniques, les Cyrénaïques, les Épicuriens, les Sceptiques. G. Reale, Storia della Filosofia Greca e Romana, Cinismo, Epicureismo e Stoicismo, Vol. 5, Milano 2002, 122 sv.

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reux que s’il est libre et que s’il peut se proclamer “citoyen du monde”23, libéré enfin des ultimes contraintes qu’impose la société : une histoire, une tradition culturelle, un territoire, des droits et des devoirs qu’on n’a pas choisis.24 Ainsi toute convention imposée par le milieu ne fait-elle que priver l’individu de sa liberté. Le Cynique semble donc vouloir bouleverser l’étiquette, les coutumes et les opinions reçues dans la société environnante. On dirait, d’une certaine façon, que son franc parler et son comportement poussés à l’extrémisme, perpétue l’ironie socratique,25 qui ébranle pour faire réfléchir.26 Il faut alors rejeter ce que plusieurs considèrent comme les fondements de la société: la famille, le travail, la polis. C’est dans l’endurance que l’homme trouvera son bonheur, étant donné que la souffrance n’est pas un mal. L’unique mal c’est la folie des illusions où l’insensé (φαῦλος) se laisse entraîner par les faux jugements;27 ce n’est qu’à travers des exercices mentaux continus que l’homme atteindra la sagesse afin de s’intégrer dans le monde universel, en sa qualité de citoyen du monde, le monde qui l’entoure n’ayant désormais aucune valeur.28 Il considère que les titres naturels de race, de clan ou de famille appartiennent à une véracité mensongère. Il n’y a plus d’hommes riches ou pauvres; il n’y a plus de classes; il n’y a que des sages ou des fous29. Il faut donc s’exercer l’intellect, qui est la seule issue de connaissance solide ; se connaître soi-même pour mieux se posséder.30 Et l’univers appartient exclusivement aux sages. Voilà la raison pour laquelle on assiste au retour triomphal du mythe d’Héraclès, le héros oublié dans une tradition “monolithique”, où l’on n’en célébrait jusqu’alors que la force corporelle31; l’exemple du valeureux Héraclès32 était la preuve que la souffrance, considérée jusqu’alors comme un mal, pouvait désormais être un bien; et le héros s’exalta, par la suite, à un symbole de vie, dans la mesure où il préfigure la simplicité du sage idéal, même avec la mort par le feu qu’il choisit librement et qu’elle annonce la totale liberté du Cynique face à son destin.33 Par ailleurs, ce héros vêtu d’une peau de lion et armé d’une massue s’accordait bien avec la simplicité excessive de la tenue d’un Cynique: cheveux longs et sandales, “barbe, bure (τρίβων), besace et bâton”.34 Le cynisme est une morale spor23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

Cf. D.L., VI, 63. Cf. L. Paquet, Les Cyniques Grecs, 18. J. Fontanille, Le cynisme. Du sensible au risible, in: Humoresques, L’humour européen, Paris, Univ. de Paris VII, Lublin/Sèvres 1993, 9–26 (14) www.unilim.fr/pages/jacques.fontanille/textes-pdf/Acynisme.pdf. Cf. Cic., Orat. III, 17. Idem, ibid., III, 15. Cf. D.L., VI, 12. Cf. L. Paquet, Les Cyniques Grecs, 17. Cf. D.L., VI, 72. Cf. L. Paquet, Les Cyniques Grecs, 17. G. K. Galinsky, The Herakles Theme, 4. D.L., VI, 2. À propos du traité Héraclès d’Antisthène, cf. F. Decleva-Caizzi, Antisthenis Fragmenta, Varese-Milano 1966, fr. 22–28 et notes 94–97; Cf. aussi D.L. VI, 16, 71 et 105. Cf. L. Paquet, Les Cyniques grecs, 19. D.L., VI, 22. (“Il [Diogène] fut le premier, d’après certains, à doubler son manteau, car il devait aussi y dormir enveloppé, il portait en outre, une besace dans laquelle se trouvaient ses vivres, et il tirait parti de tout endroit pour manger, dormir ou converser”. Et l’on connaît bien qu’Antisthène, le fondateur du Cynisme, homme d’une grande force de volonté, était réputé pour sa

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tive qui commence par des épreuves, un endurcissement, une dé-sensibilisation (ἀ-πάθεια). Non seulement faut-il récuser et miner, intellectuellement et humoristiquement l’univers des valeurs, mais encore rendre son esprit et son corps insensibles aux objets qui y participent.35 Les Cyniques influencèrent les Stoïciens par l’intermédiaire de Cratès, celui-ci disciple de Diogène de Sinope et tous ensemble, exercèrent ensuite une nouvelle influence sur la tradition relative à ce héros.36 C’est en imitant l’exemple du sage Héraclès37 que l’homme deviendrait sage et atteindrait le bonheur. Il n’est pas sans intérêt de noter ici qu’au début du IIIe siècle av. notre ère, à Dodone, en Épire, un autel et un temple furent consacrés au culte d’Héraclès.38 Le “pouvoir-faire” individuel, surtout s’il est entretenu par des épreuves adéquates, est une propriété irréductible de l’humain dans sa version “naturelle” et peut toujours infléchir le “devoir-être”. Néanmoins, “l’habileté des hommes, le fait de découvrir et d’inventer beaucoup de choses pour améliorer l’existence, ne fut pas très utile aux générations suivantes. En effet, les hommes se sont servis de leur savoir (sophia), non pas en vue du courage ou de la justice mais en vue du plaisir”.39 C’est pourquoi les Cyniques considéraient Héraclès comme leur héros par excellence, dont les travaux constituaient à la fois des épreuves qui confortaient son “pouvoir-faire”, et des preuves qui démontraient qu’un individu libre et fort ne connaît ni obstacles ni contraintes.40 Avec les Cyniques et les Stoïciens la vie vertueuse devient une attitude joyeuse envers la nature. Pour les Stoïciens le bonheur consiste au bon écoulement de la vie (εὔροια βίου),41 pareil à la descente joyeuse des eaux d’une rivière. En revanche, la vie luxueuse, la truphè exprime une attitude hostile envers la nature; aussi Cratès qualifie-t-il d’homme handicapé (ἀνάπηρος), celui qui vit dans le luxe, faisant un jeu de mot avec la besace (πήρα) et le manque de besace (ἄνευ πήρας)=(ana­pērous).42

35

36 37 38 39 40 41 42

tempérance herculéenne (Eus. PE XV, 13, 7). Pareil à Héraclès, le philosophe supporte les peines (les travaux) pour la seule vertu, et s’abstient des biens matériels. Cf. aussi L. Paquet, Les Cyniques grecs, 15. Cf. le bel article de S. Husson, “Revêtir la vie des chiens”. L’animal comme modèle moral, Archai, n. 11, jul-dez, 2013, 69–78 (71) et la référence au discours VI § 25–27 de Dion Chrysostome, de Diogène : “Voici pourquoi, à ce qu’il (à Diogène) lui semblait, le mythe raconte comment Zeus châtia Prométhée à la suite de la découverte du don du feu : parce qu’il constituait le commencement de l’origine de la mollesse et de la sensualité des hommes. En effet, Zeus, assurément ne hait pas les hommes et ne veut pas les priver d’un bien. Lorsque certains disaient qu’il n’est pas possible que l’homme vive comme les autres animaux à cause de la fragilité de sa chair et parce qu’il est nu, recouvert ni de poils comme un grand nombre de bêtes, ni de plumes, ni enveloppé par une peau épaisse, à ses arguments, il répliquait que c’est à cause de son genre de vie que l’homme est si fragile, en effet, il fuit la plupart du temps le soleil, ainsi que le froid”. G. K. Galinsky, The Herakles Theme, 106. D.L., VI, 22. Cf. D.L., VI, 71. S. Dakaris, Dodone, Athènes, 1993, 19–20. D. Chr. Discours, VI, (6) 28–29 in S. Husson “Revetir la vie des chiens”, 74. J. Fontanille, Le cynisme. Du sensible au risible, 12. Stob. Eclog. II, p. 77, 20 W. (=S.V.F., I, 184). D.L., VI, 105.

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23.3 ÉTYMOLOGIES DES NOMS SELON CLÉANTHE D’ASSOS Le Stoïcisme était conscient de la puissance qu’offrait à l’homme la formation de son intellect. Ainsi, loin de respecter les principes des écoles contemporaines, malgré son penchant vers le Cynisme -dû à Cratès, le maître de Zénon de Cittium-, les Stoïciens plaçaient l’homme avec ses semblables dans une société dirigée selon des lois imposées par la raison divine. Cette philosophie identifiait, en d’autres mots, la liberté humaine avec l’ordre cosmique et invitait l’homme à consentir aux lois universelles et à participer au miracle du devenir cosmique à travers ses capacités intellectuelles, accordées à lui par nature.43 À cette démarche, les Stoïciens eurent recours à l’étymologie des mots.44 Néanmoins, l’on constate que Cléanthe fut plus attaché à ses “arrières maîtres”, les Cyniques. Ce deuxième scholarque de l’École stoïcienne pensait, comme le fit Antisthène, que l’acquisition de la vertu45 dépendait de la connaissance et qu’elle pouvait être enseignée.46 Mais on ne saurait l’apprendre, comme le disait Antisthène, qu’en scrutant le sens des mots, puisque chaque mot est le reflet unique de ce qu’est chaque chose.47 Aussi Cléanthe enseignait que par l’intermédiaire de l’étymologie des noms et de l’allégorie, les passions humaines se calment, de sorte que l’explication des notions philosophiques et l’enseignement de la doctrine sont facilités48. Il avait recours aussi à la peinture, afin de détourner les élèves d’autres écoles, comme c’est le cas avec les disciples de l’école d’Épicure.49 Le tableau, auquel Cléanthe d’habitude avait recours, symbolisait, très probablement, le carrefour de la Vertu et du Vice, du mythe d’Héraclès.50 Il est aussi probable que par la suite, Cléanthe faisait aussi allusion aux travaux du héros, indicatifs de la victoire de l’intelligence courageuse sur les passions qui rendent les hommes qu’elles habitent semblables à des animaux.51 Aussi Héraclès, dans la pensée de Cléanthe, se transformait-t-il en la rigoureuse tension (τόνος) de 43 44

45 46 47 48 49

50 51

Ibid., VII, 86. Pour le logos accordé à l’homme par dieu, cf. Cleanth. Stoic. L’Hymne à Zeus, (=Stob., Eclog. I, 1, 12 p. 25, 3, S.V.F., I 537), vers 4 de l’Hymne: ἐκ σοῦ γὰρ γένος εἴσ’ ἤχου μίμημα λαχόντες. A.-J. Festugière, Études de religion grecque et hellénistique, Paris 1972, 124; cf. É. Bréhier, Chrysippe et l’ancien stoïcisme, Paris 1951, 201 et n. 13. Méthode déjà révélée par les Sophistes et ensuite par Platon ; elle a pourtant redonné vie aux anciennes formes traditionnelles. Ainsi, les interprétations stoïciennes fonctionnent comme facteur régulateur et réconciliateur entre les croyances théologiques antérieures et récentes. Alex. Aphr. de anima, p. 159, 33 Bruns. (=S.V.F., III, 66) : “la vertu produit le bonheur”. D.L., VII, 91 (=S.V.F., I, 567). Ils s’inscrivent donc à la tradition socratique de l’acquisition de la vertu à travers l’enseignement. Cf. D.L., VI, 3 ; cf. Epict. Entr., I, 17, 10; cf. aussi A. Brancacci, Oikeios logos. La filosofia del linguaggio di Antistene, Napoli,1990, 43–84. Apollon. Lexicon Homericum, p.114 (=S.V.F., I, 526). Cf. P.-M. Schuhl, Les Stoïciens, textes traduits par É. Bhéhier, sous la dir. de P. M. Schuhl, Paris 1962, 4, notice: “Aussi, pour détourner les esprits de l’idéal épicurien, il évoquait avec scandale un tableau où l’on verrait le plaisir assis sur un trône, entouré des vertus, transformées en servantes, qui n’auraient d’autre tâche que de le servir comme leur maître”. Ce mythe de Prodicos est arrivé jusqu’à nous par l’intermédiaire de Xénoph. Mem., II, 1, 21 et suiv. J. Pépin, Mythe et allégorie, 339.

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l’esprit qui brise (τὸ πληκτικόν) et qui scinde (διαιρετικόν); bien plus: Héraclès est la tension (τόνος) qui règne sur le tout.52 On s’aperçoit déjà d’un penchant du philosophe pour ce héros, auquel ses concitoyens l’identifiaient non seulement à cause de ses traits physiques (étant, lui-même, pugiliste)53 mais aussi à cause des peines auxquelles il s’adonnait pour gagner de l’argent afin de pouvoir suivre les cours de Zénon.54 Ayant choisi, lui aussi, une vie d’endurances pour gagner la sagesse, soutenait qu’il préférait sa vie à celle des riches, disant même que, tandis que ceux-ci jouaient à la balle lui, travaillait à la bêche une terre dure et ardue,55 faisant ainsi allusion à la voie épineuse de la philosophie qu’il avait choisi, afin de gagner la vertu qui, seule, suffit au bonheur. Préconisant la simplicité de la nourriture, des vêtements et l’indifférence à tout besoin corporel, Cléanthe fut appelé par ses concitoyens “le second Héraclès”.56 Il disait même que les riches qui ont de quoi se nourrir, demandent aux autres de pourvoir à leurs besoins, et qu’ils se relâchent fort dans leurs études philosophiques57 à savoir à l’exercice inlassable de l’intellect. Néanmoins Cléanthe ne fut pas uniquement un philosophe; il fut de surcroît un poète de talent, à lire ses vers éparses qui nous sont parvenus et son fameux Hymne à Zeus, cité par Stobée.58 Allégorie, étymologie et poésie, s’unissent sous sa plume quand il essaie, par une surprenante allégorie poétique de définir la présence du soleil dans la nature comme une intervention bienfaitrice et révélatrice du miracle universel. Apollon (le soleil), écrit Cléanthe, le fils de Zeus au beau visage, joue à la lyre; et pendant qu’il touche les cordes de son plectre (πλῆκτρον), celles-ci à leur tour, touchent la terre et engagent le monde à entreprendre sa course harmonieuse.59 L’image révélée par ce fragment renvoie à la notion d’eumetron, d’harmonie;60 du bien tempéré; de l’épanouissement du miracle de la nature, de la révélation de la beauté cosmique, où il n’y a rien de trop (μηδὲν ἄγαν). Or, Cléanthe, procède à une nouvelle étymologie ; il analyse cette fois l’épithète Lukeios, attribuée à Apollon, afin de dévoiler son rôle sous-jacent dans la physique. Selon la liste des traités attribués par Diogène Laërce à Cléanthe on s’informe que le philosophe écrivit un traité Sur les Dieux;61 très probablement dans ce traité il 52

53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61

Plu. Moralia, 7 1034 D (=S.V.F., I, 563) ; cf. F. H. Sandbach, Stoics, London, 1989 (1975), 112 : “The invention or development of the idea of tension a force that not only maintains the world as a whole but also gives strength to individual bodies and individual souls, was his (Cleanthes’) chief contribution to Stoic theory”. D.L., VII, 168. VII, 169. Selon le témoignage de Diogène Laërce (VII, 173), quand certains poètes le raillaient pour sa prétendue lourdeur d’esprit, Cléanthe ne se fâchait point, disant que, si Dionysos et Hercule ne se fâchaient pas des railleries à leurs dépens, pourquoi lui devrait-il l’être ? VII, 171. VII, 170. VΙΙ, 170. Cf. Cleanth. Stoic. L’Hymne à Zeus, (=Stobée, Eclog. I, 1, 12 p. 25, 3, S.V.F., I, 537). Clem. Al. Strom., V, 8, 48, p. 764 P. (=S.V.F., I, 502). Corn. 32 (De Apolline i.e. de Sole locutus (=S.V.F., I, 503): “le Soleil, en sa qualité de musicien, cherche de sauver autant que possible, la symétrie réciproque des temps comme une cadence rythmique et dans la suite les voix des animaux et les bruits de tons des autres corps”. D.L., VI, 175.

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faisait l’analyse étymologique du nom d’Apollon. D’après le témoignage de Macrobe, Cléanthe se référant à Apollon Lycéen disait qu’il est appelé Λύκειος, dans la mesure où l’on désire manifester l’énergie bienfaisante ainsi que l’intensité de la chaleur simultanément, destructive du Soleil; car ses premiers rayons qui frappent le sol absorbent l’humidité; ainsi un paysage, jusqu’alors statique, est totalement transfiguré et se remplit de fentes. Et il assimile cette procédure à l’invasion d’un troupeau de loups : celui-ci attaque le bétail qui ne se méfit pas et, tout en le dévorant, il transforme une image paisible à une scène de panique.62 Ici on est devant la scène qui montre la démesure, le πλέον, l’ἄ-μετρον, qui dépasse le bien et qui devient πολύ (au sens de trop, ἄγαν). Alors ce πολύ, désirable au début, devient à présent déraisonné. Bienfaisance (celle de la lumière génératrice et de la chaleur du soleil) et destruction (la chaleur à l’excès) dérivent de la même source: de la lumière, du lux. Or, dans ce cas, la privation du beau dérive de l’excès. Voilà ce que Cléanthe a voulu montrer par cette étymologie. Fidèle à sa simplicité herculéenne, il se contente de contempler la nature qui l’entoure en vue de fonder son enseignement de la physique. 23.4 CONCLUSION On a déjà vu que la mesure va de paire avec la raison. À la place du luxe s’accorderait alors mieux avec la notion de mesure, la subtile supériorité, à savoir, une chaleur modérée et génératrice, l’euteleia. Le monde qui nous entoure pourrait en servir de preuve. C’est uniquement dans cette euteleia, étendue dans le Tout, que le luxe trouve son expression par excellence. Dans le cosmos, tout y est mesuré et rien n’y est laissé au hasard63. Dieu (Logos ou Nature) est un artisan créateur et décorateur qui vise à produire et à protéger le beau. La nature, affirment nos philosophes, “aime le beau (nous dirions le luxe modéré répandu dans la nature) et se plaît à la variété : ce qui l’illustre le mieux, c’est la queue du paon”.64 BIBLIOGRAPHIE Aëtius, Plac., H. von Arnim, S.V.F. II, Stuttgart 1964 Alexandre d’Aphrodise, De l’âme, texte grec annoté et traduit par M. Bergeron et R. Dufour, Paris 2008 Antistène, éd. Decleva-Caizzi F., Antisthenis Fragmenta, Varese-Milano 1966 Aristote, Les Métaphysiques, trad. André de Muralt, Paris 2010 Idem, Éthique à Nicomaque, trad. par Jules Tricot, Paris 1990 Idem, Du Ciel, Trad. et notes par J. Tricot, Paris 1986 62 63 64

Macr. Sat., I, 17, 36 (=S.V.F., I, 541). Aët. Plac., I, 6. (=S.V.F., II, 1009); cf. aussi p. ex. Arist. Métaph. K 8, 1065a9, Λ 6,1071b34; Cael.: “ἀλλ’ εἰ μηδὲν ὡς ἔτυχε” Β 287b24–25· “οὐθέν γαρ ὡς ἔτυχε ποιεῖ ἡ φύσις” Β 290a31· “καίτοι οὐδὲν ὡς ἔτυχε γίγνεται τῶν κατὰ φύσιν” Γ 301a11. Plu. Moralia, 1044, 21 C.

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Athénée, Deipnosophistes, éd. et trad. par A.-M. Desrousseaux, Paris 1956 Brancacci A., Oikeios logos. La filosofia del linguaggio di Antistene, Napoli 1990 Cicéron, De l’Orateur. Du meilleur genre d’orateurs, éd. et trad. par Albert Yon, Paris 1964 Cléanthe, L’Hymne à Zeus (=Stobée, Eclog. I, 1, 12 p. 25, 3), in S.V.F. I op. cit. Clément d’Alexandrie, Strom., in H. von Arnim, S.V.F. I, Stuttgart 1964 Cornutus, (Cléanthe) in H. von Arnim, S.V.F. I, Stuttgart, 1964 Dakaris S., Dodone, Athènes, 1993 Dion de Pruse dit Dion Chrysostome, Discours, éd. et trad. par Cécile Bost-Pouderon, Paris, 2011 Épictète, Entretiens et Manuel, in Les Stoïciens, textes traduits par É. Bhéhier, sous la dir. de P. M. Schouhl, Paris 1962 Festugière A.-J., Études de religion grecque et hellénistique, Paris 1972 Idem, La vie spirituelle en Grèce à l’époque hellénistique ou Les besoins de l’esprit dans un monde raffiné, Paris 1977 Fontanille J., Le cynisme. Du sensible au risible, in: Humoresques, L’humour européen, Paris, Univ. de Paris VII, Lublin/Sèvres 1993, en forme PDF, 9–26 (en ligne : www.unilim.fr/pages/jacques. fontanille/textes-pdf/Acynisme.pdf) Galinsky G. K., The Herakles Theme. The Adaptations of the Hero in Literature from Homer to the Twentieth Century, Oxford 1972 Husson S., “Revetir la vie des chiens”, L’animal comme modèle moral, Archai, n. 11, jul-dez 2013, 69–78 Laërce Diogène, Vies et doctrines des philosophes illustres, trad. M.-O. Goulet-Cazé, Paris 1999 Lévêque P., Le monde hellénistique, Paris 1969 Macrobe, Saturnalia, (Cléanthe) H. von Arnim, S.V.F. I, Stuttgart 1964 Montanari F., Vocabolario della lingua greca, Torino 2004 (1995) Moutsopoulos E., L’éthique de Démocrite, une éthique de kairos?, Textes sur Démocrite, Premier Colloque International sur Démocrite, Xanthi 1983, vol. I-II, Xanthi 1984, 137–145 Paquet L., Les Cyniques Grecs, Fragments et témoignages, Ottawa 1975 Pépin J., Mythe et allégorie. Les origines grecques et les contestations judéo-chrétiennes, Paris 1971 Pindare, Lyr., dans Lyriques grecs, éd. J. Pérrault-Maynant et al., Paris 1842 Plutarque, Sur les contradictions stoïciennes, Que les Stoïciens tiennent des propos plus paradoxaux que les poètes, éd. Michel Casevitz, trad. par Daniel Babut, Paris 2004 Reale G., Storia della Filosofia Greca e Romana, Cinismo, Epicureismo e Stoicismo, Vol. 5, Milano 2002 Sandbach F. H., Stoics, London 1989 (1975) Schuhl P.-M., Les Stoïciens, textes traduits par É. Bréhier, sous la dir. de P. M. Schuhl, Paris 1962 Stobée, Eclog., in H. Von Arnim, S.V.F. I, II, III, Stuttgart 1964 Théognis, Élégies, éd. Jean Carrière, Paris 1948 Thucydide, La guerre du Péloponèse, texte établi et traduit par J. de Romilly, Paris 1967 Xénophon, Mémorables, éd. et trad. par Michele Bandini et Louis-André Dorion, Paris 2003

24 DUE NOTE A CLEARCO E GALENO Tiziano Dorandi Abstract I reconsider a fragment of Clearchus’s Περὶ παιδείας (F56 Taifacos = fr.14 Wehrli) and a passage of Galen’s Περὶ ἀλυπίας. In the first part of my paper, I suggest that Clearchus’s fragment should be edited as follows: Μανέρως· τοῦτόν φασιν Αἰγύπτιον ἀμαλογῆσαι πρῶτον παρὰ Μάγων διδαχθέντα, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο πᾶσιν ἀνὰ στόμα γενέσθαι, ὡς Κλέαρχος ἐν τοῖς Περὶ παιδείας ἱστορεῖ. The second part is concerned with a new discussion of the meaning of ‘Πλάτων ὁ Παναιτίου’, an expression used in Galen’s Περὶ ἀλυπίας. 24.1 CLEARCHUS, F56 TAIFACOS = FR. 14 WEHRLI Per onorare la venerata memoria del Professore Ioannis Taifacos, del quale conoscevo da lungo tempo le doti umane, stimavo le qualità scientifiche e avevo apprezzato la squisita ospitalità, ho pensato di presentare una nuova lettura di un frammento del filosofo peripatetico Clearco di Soli e di ritornare brevemente sull’interpretazione di un luogo controverso del Περὶ ἀλυπίας di Galeno. Una glossa del Lessico di Esichio di Alessandria (V s. d.C.) trasmette una breve, ma significativa testimonianza da un libro incerto dello scritto Περὶ παιδείας di Clearco di Soli, nell’isola di Cipro (IV-III s. a.C.).1 Nella sua edizione dei frammenti di Clearco, Taifacos, pubblica il seguente testo:2 Μανέρως. τοῦτόν φασιν Αἰγύπτιον ὁμολογῆσαι πρῶτον παρὰ Μάγων διδαχθέντα, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο πᾶσιν ἀνὰ στόμα γενέσθαι, ὡς Κλέαρχος ἐν τοῖς Περὶ παιδείας ἱστορεῖ.

In questo frammento, lo studioso si allontana dall’edizione di Wehrli3 in un solo punto, mantenendo cioè la lezione Μάγων del codex unicus di Esichio, il Marcianus gr. 622 (coll. 851), s. XV in. (sigla H), invece della congettura Μουσῶν proposta dal Valesius.4

1 2 3 4

Hesych., s.v. Μανέρως, μ 237 (2, 627 Latte). Il Περὶ παιδείας di Clearco era in almeno due libri. Ἀρχαία Κυπριακὴ γραμματεία. 6. Φιλοσοφία. Κλέαρχος, Περσαῖος, Δημῶναξ, ἄλλοι Κύπριοι φιλόσοφοι Ι. Ταϊφάκου, Λευκωσία 2008, 52. F. Wehrli, Die Schule des Aristoteles, 3, Klearchos, Basel/Stuttgart 1969. La congettura di Valesius si legge nell’edizione di Esichio di I. Alberti, t. 2, Ludguni Batavorum 1746, 538 n. 9. La stessa congettura è da taluni editori attribuita anche a Isaac Vossius.

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Wehrli non traduce il frammento. Taifacos propone:5 Μανέρως: λένε ὅτι αὐτὸς ἦταν ὁ πρῶτος Αἰγύπτιος ποὺ ὁμολόγησε ὅτι διδάχτηκε ἀπὸ τοὺς Μάγους, γι᾽ αὐτὸ καὶ τ᾽ ὄνομά του ἦταν στὰ στόματα ὅλων, ὅπως διηγεῖται ὁ Κλέαρχος στὸ ἔργο του Περὶ παιδείας.

La constitutio textus e l’interpretazione di questa glossa non sono semplici. Due questioni restano aperte oltre alla scelta fra παρὰ Μάγων e παρὰ Μουσῶν: chi o che cosa era il Μανέρως del lemma di Esichio? Quale è il significato che dobbiamo dare al verbo ὁμολογῆσαι e, di conseguenza, come si deve costruire la frase τοῦτόν φασιν Αἰγύπτιον ὁμολογῆσαι πρῶτον παρὰ Μάγων/Μουσῶν διδαχθέντα? Di queste difficoltà si era ben reso conto Latte. In una ricerca parallela alla sua edizione di Esichio, lo studioso aveva suggerito la significativa correzione di ὁμολογῆσαι di H in ἀμαλογῆσαι, un hapax legomenon che trova comunque un fondamento nella testimonianza del sostantivo ἀμαλογία nella famosa lettera di Menandro a Glicera trasmessa da Alcifrone.6 Già Bücheler e Wilamowitz avevano raccomandato di mantenere nel passo di Alcifrone la lezione ἀμαλογία (della famiglia di codici x2) invece della banalizzante correzione bizantina ὁμολογία (del codice Φ, accolta nell’edizione di Schepers).7 Bücheler aveva richiamato all’attenzione alcune glosse greco-latine che provano in maniera palmare la corrispondenza della parola greca ἀμαλογία con un nomen agentis del verbo latino garrire. Wilamowitz vi aveva scorto invece una forma di aplologia per *ἀμαλλολογία, un sostantivo il cui significato originario era quello di “fare covoni”. Con esso, Alcifrone avrebbe voluto alludere alla mietitura rituale delle feste Aloe (Ἁλῶια). Latte riprendendo e sviluppando le ricerche del Bücheler e (in parte correggendo quelle) del Wilamowitz fa notare che ἀμαλογία “nicht die Garbenlese als solche, sondern das dabei gesungene Lied bezeichet“8 e lo intende dunque nel senso di “leeres Geschwätz” dei mietitori. Questo significato corrisponderebbe a quello del sostantivo latino cantilena (per esempio in Cicerone) da intendere nel senso di “leeres triviales Geschwätz” comune anche al verbo de­ cantare.9 5 6 7 8 9

Taifacos, Ἀρχαία Κυπριακὴ γραμματεία, 53 (traduzione) e 313–314 (commento). Alciphr. 4.18.10 = Menander test. 20 Kassel-Austin. F. Bücheler, Über Alkiphron, in: RhMus 58, 1903, 457 = Kleine Schriften, 3, Leipzig und Berlin 1930, 302–303; U. v. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Lesefrüchte 140, in: Hermes 44, 1909, 447 n.1 = Kleine Schriften 4, Berlin 1962, 244–245 n. 1. K. Latte, Zur griechischen Wortforschung, in: Glotta 32, 1932, 36–38 = Kleine Schriften, München 1968, 683–684. Cf. J. J. Bungarten, Menanders und Glykeras Brief bei Alkiphron, Diss. Bonn 1967, 9 e 55–56. Dubbi sull’etimologia del verbo proposta da Latte ha sollevato R. S. P. Beekes, Etymological Dictionary of Greek, 1, Leiden/Boston 2010, 80, s.v. ἀμαλογία dopo H. Frisk, Griechisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch, Heidelberg 1960, s.v. ἀμαλογία, che la giudica “sehr hypothetisch”. La accettano i redattori del Diccionario Griego-Español, s.v. ἀμαλογέω che traducono “cantar una canción de de engavillador”. Ma gli stessi danno a ἀμαλογία il significato di “charla”. M. Grošelj, Etyma Graeca, in: Živa antika 7, 1957, 40 intende ἀμαλογία come corrispettivo del latino “garrulitas” e presuppone un composto da ἀμαλός, nella forma *ἀμαλο-

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Latte non traduce né parafrasa la glossa di Esichio, ma richiama un passo parallelo dell’Onomasticon di Polluce, dove leggiamo: βώριμος δὲ Μαριανδύνων γεωργῶν ᾆσμα, ὡς Αἰγυπτίων μανέρως, καὶ λιτυέρσας Φρυγῶν. ἀλλ’ Αἰγυπτίοις μὲν ὁ Μανέρως γεωργίας εὑρετής, Μουσῶν μαθητής, Λιτυέρσας δὲ Φρυξίν.10 Nonostante ciò, Latte non trova in questa testimonianza una conferma alla correzione di παρὰ Μάγων (che pur riconosce “unverständlich”) in παρὰ Μουσῶν. Nella sua edizione di Esichio, lo studioso stampa dunque: Μανέρως· τοῦτόν φασιν Αἰγύπτιον ἀμαλογῆσαι πρῶτον παρὰ Μάγων διδαχθέντα, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο πᾶσιν ἀνὰ στόμα γενέσθαι, ὡς Κλέαρχος ἐν τοῖς Περὶ παιδείας ἱστορεῖ.

Sarei tentato di credere che così aveva scritto anche Clearco, ma interpreterei il testo in maniera diversa tenendo conto dei risultati innovanti relativi a Manerote raggiunti dall’egittologo Altenmüller.11 Altenmüller ha provato che μανερως (la parola è variamente accentata nelle tradizioni manoscritte degli autori antichi che la testimoniano: μανέρως, μάνερως, μανερῶς12) è la traslitterazione in greco di una parola egiziana che assume nelle diverse fonti greche e egizie tre significati: 1. canto di lamento egiziano, il “Canto di Manerote”: 2. nome della persona (Manerote) per la quale quel canto ebbe origine e 3. forma di brindisi egiziana con significato di “buon pro!” (“laß wohlbehalten sein!”). Queste le testimonianze greche (oltre a quella di Clearco-Esichio) su Manerote:13 Herodotus 2.79 (Rosén) πατρίοισι δὲ χρεώμενοι νόμοισι ἄλλον οὐδένα ἐπικτῶνται. τοῖσι ἄλλα τε ἐπάξια ἐστι νόμιμα καὶ δὴ καὶ ἄεισμα ἕν ἐστι, λίνος, ὅς περ ἔν τε Φοινίκῃ ἀοίδιμός ἐστι καὶ ἐν Κύπρῳ καὶ ἄλλῃ· κατὰ μέντοι ἔθνεα οὔνομα ἔχει, συμφέρεται δὲ ὡυτὸς εἶναι, τὸν οἱ Ἕλληνες λίνον ὀνομάζοντες ἀείδουσι, ὥστε πολλὰ μὲν καὶ ἄλλα ἀποθωμάζειν με τῶν περὶ Αἴγυπτον ἐόντων, ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ τὸν λίνον ὁκόθεν ἔλαβον τὸν νόμον (Rosén: τὸ οὔνομα (τοὔ- M, Ald.) codd., Eustath.: seclusit Wesseling, ipse etiam ἔλαβον νόμον conieciens)· φαίνονται δὲ αἰεί κοτε τοῦτον ἀείδοντες· ἔστι δὲ Αἰγυπτιστὶ ὁ λίνος καλεόμενος μανερῶς (ABC, Pc, p: μάνερος Rac, SV: -ρως Pac, Rc, T), ἔφασαν δέ μιν Αἰγύπτιοι τοῦ πρώτου βασιλεύσαντος Αἰγύπτου παῖδα μουνογενέα γενέσθαι, ἀποθανόντα δὲ αὐτὸν ἄωρον θρήνοισι τούτοισι ὑπὸ Αἰγυπτίων τιμηθῆναι, καὶ ἀοιδήν τε ταύτην πρώτην καὶ μούνην σφίσι γενέσθαι.

10 11 12 13

λογία, che rende meglio conto, a suo dire, del senso della parola. Cf. il Revised Supplement del LSJ, s.v. ἀμαλογεῖ: “perh. for *ἀμαλολογεῖ”. Pollux 4.54 (1, 217.2–3 Bethe). H. Altenmüller, Maneros–Trinkspruch oder Klagelied?, in: R. Rolle, K. Schmidt (Hrsg.), Archäologische Studien in Kontaktzonen der antiken Welt, Göttingen 1998, 17–26. La forma μανέρως è quella preferita dallo Stephanus nel TGrL, s.v.: “Haec enim scriptura, quae sola vera, etiam in Athenaei est libris melioribus, accentu tamen prima posito, quem non fert Arcadii praeceptum [93.26]”. Le sigle dei codici sono quelle delle edizioni di riferimento, indicate fra parentesi.

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Nymphis Heracl. (FGrHist 432 F 5b) ap. Athen. Deipnos. 14.11 619f-620a (Kaibel) ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ τῶν ᾠδῶν ἐνίας κατανοήσειεν ἄν τις, ἃς ἐκεῖνοι κατά τινα ἐπιχωριαζομένην παρ’ αὐτοῖς …. ( Wilam.) ᾄδοντες ἀνακαλοῦνταί τινα τῶν ἀρχαίων, προσαγορεύοντες Βῶρμον (Casaub.: βωρβον A: βόρβον E). τοῦτον δὲ λέγουσιν υἱὸν γενέσθαι ἀνδρὸς ἐπιφανοῦς καὶ πλουσίου, τῷ δὲ κάλλει καὶ τῇ κατὰ τὴν ἀκμὴν ὥρᾳ πολὺ τῶν ἄλλων διενεγκεῖν· ὃν ἐφεστῶτα ἔργοις ἰδίοις καὶ βουλόμενον τοῖς θερίζουσιν δοῦναι πιεῖν βαδίζοντα ἐφ’ ὕδωρ ἀφανισθῆναι. ζητεῖν οὖν αὐτὸν τοὺς ἀπὸ τῆς χώρας μετά τινος μεμελῳδημένου θρήνου {καὶ ἀνακλήσεως} (tamquam ex glossemate secl. Kaibel, cf. ἀνακαλοῦνται. Servat Olson) ᾧ καὶ νῦν ἔτι πάντες χρώμενοι διατελοῦσι. τοιοῦτος δ’ ἐστὶ καὶ ὁ παρ’ Αἰγυπτίοις καλούμενος Μάνερως (sc. θρῆνος). Pausanias 9.29.7 (Rocha-Pereira) ἀποθανόντος δὲ τοῦ Λίνου τὸ ἐπ’ αὐτῷ πένθος διῆλθεν ἄρα καὶ ἄχρι τῆς βαρβάρου πάσης, ὡς καὶ Αἰγυπτίοις ᾆσμα γενέσθαι Λίνον· καλοῦσι δὲ τὸ ᾆσμα Αἰγύπτιοι τῇ ἐπιχωρίῳ φωνῇ Μανέρων (ημανερων β (exemplar Niccolò Niccoli, ante anno 1437), corr. Amasaeus in translat. Pausaniae, Romae 1547) Pollux Onom. 4.54 (Bethe) βώριμος δὲ Μαριανδύνων γεωργῶν ᾆσμα, ὡς Αἰγυπτίων μανέρως (μανιερός S: μανερός B), καὶ λιτυέρσας Φρυγῶν. ἀλλ’ Αἰγυπτίοις μὲν ὁ Μανέρως (μανιερός S: μανερός ΠB) γεωργίας εὑρετής, Μουσῶν μαθητής, Λιτυέρσας δὲ Φρυξίν (= Arist. fr. 520.2 Gigon) Plut. De Is. et Os. 17, 357e (Sieveking) ὃν γὰρ ᾄδουσιν Αἰγύπτιοι παρὰ τὰ συμπόσια Μανερῶτα (μανέρωτα Ω “accentum hic et infra sec. ling. Aeg. usum et Herodoti libros mutavit Rusch s.v. P.-W. 1048” Sieveking), τοῦτον εἶναι. τινὲς δὲ τὸν μὲν παῖδα καλεῖσθαι Παλαιστινὸν ἢ Πηλούσιον καὶ τὴν πόλιν ἐπώνυμον ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ γενέσθαι κτισθεῖσαν ὑπὸ τῆς θεοῦ· τὸν δ’ ᾀδόμενον Μανερῶτα πρῶτον εὑρεῖν μουσικὴν ἱστοροῦσιν. ἔνιοι δέ φασιν ὄνομα μὲν οὐδενὸς εἶναι, διάλεκτον δὲ πίνουσιν ἀνθρώποις καὶ θαλειάζουσι πρέπουσαν αἴσιμα τὰ τοιαῦτα παρείη· τοῦτο γὰρ τῷ Μανερῶτι φραζόμενον ἀναφωνεῖν ἑκάστοτε τοὺς Αἰγυπτίους.

Alla luce di questi testi, suggerirei che nella glossa di Esichio, e dunque in Clearco, μανέρως debba essere inteso come un nome comune e non come un nome proprio e che indichi il cosiddetto “Canto di Manerote” di cui parlano Erodoto, Pausania, Plutarco e Ninfide. Escluderei di conseguenza un rapporto della glossa con la testimonianza di Polluce (e dunque anche la correzione di παρὰ Μάγων in παρὰ Μουσῶν) e riavvicinerei il testo di Esichio piuttosto al frammento di Ninfide come mi sembra provino le strette somiglianze verbali della glossa in particolare con la seconda parte del frammento dello storico di Eraclea: τοῦτόν φασιν Αἰγύπτιον ἀμαλογῆσαι … καὶ διὰ τοῦτο πᾶσιν ἀνὰ στόμα γενέσθαι ≈ μετά τινος μεμελῳδημένου θρήνου {καὶ ἀνακλήσεως} ᾧ καὶ νῦν ἔτι πάντες χρώμενοι διατελοῦσι. τοιοῦτος δ’ ἐστὶ καὶ ὁ παρ’ Αἰγυπτίοις καλούμενος Μάνερως (sc. θρῆνος).

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Per la presenza dei Μάγοι nel Περὶ παιδείας di Clearco rimando, con Cherniss,14 al F 55 Taifacos (= fr. 13 Wehrli):15 Κλέαρχος δὲ ὁ Σολεὺς ἐν τῷ Περὶ παιδείας καὶ τοὺς Γυμνοσοφιστὰς ἀπογόνους εἶναι τῶν Μάγων φησίν. Quanto infine al verbo ἀμαλογέω, fermo restando il legame semantico di questo con il sostantivo cantilena e con il verbo decantare, e tenendo conto dei significati che questi due termini latini assumono, esso può essere inteso in due sensi entrambi plausibili. Il Thesaurus linguae Latinae distingue per cantilena due significati: 1. propria deminutivi vi, i.q. cantus pusillus, despectus, molestus, inde fabula decantata, nugae, futilia; 2. latiore sensu carmen, cantus. Per quanto riguarda invece decantare interessa qui il significato traslato: 1. in malam partem i.q. trita, vulgata semper repetere, iterare, recitare ad nauseam, deblaterare; 2a saepius re­ citare; 2b fere i q. laudare, carmine celebrare, sim.16 Se ammettiamo dunque che il Μανέρως della glossa di Esichio è il “Canto di Manerote” insegnato per la prima volta dai Magi e poi conosciuto da tutti (πᾶσιν ἀνὰ στόμα γενέσθαι/ᾧ καὶ νῦν ἔτι πάντες χρώμενοι διατελοῦσι) e la validità dell’ipotesi di Bücheler e Latte di una vicinanza semantica fra il greco ἀμαλογεῖν e il sostantivo latino cantilena e il verbo decantare, è possibile intendere il verbo greco in due sensi: 1. “intonare un ritornello” oppure 2. “recitare in maniera cantilenante (un canto o lamento)”. Nel primo caso, il ritornello sarebbe l’incipit ripetitivo del canto; nel secondo il canto o lamento (θρῆνος). Se il confronto con Ninfide è valido sarei portato a dare la preferenza al secondo senso. Qualora si optasse invece per il primo senso, il ritornello sarebbe quello che introduceva il canto e che doveva ripetersi. In questo caso, non sarebbe nemmeno da escludere la possibilità che il Μανέρως indicasse altresì la forma di brindisi egiziano con il significato di “buon pro!” individuata da Altenmüller. L’estrema concisione della glossa di Esichio non consente purtroppo di fare una scelta univoca. Così, per concludere, stamperei e tradurrei il frammento di Clearco: Μανέρως· τοῦτόν φασιν Αἰγύπτιον ἀμαλογῆσαι πρῶτον παρὰ Μάγων διδαχθέντα, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο πᾶσιν ἀνὰ στόμα γενέσθαι, ὡς Κλέαρχος ἐν τοῖς Περὶ παιδείας ἱστορεῖ. τοῦτόν (sc. θρῆνον) || αἰγύπτιον H: Αἰγυπτίων Schmidt || ἀμαλογῆσαι Latte: ὁμολογῆσαι H || μάγων H: μουσῶν Valesius conl. Polluce. Manerote: Si dice che recitavano in maniera cantilenante questa canzone (lamentosa = il canto di Manerote) / intonavano questo ritornello egiziano (= il canto di Manerote o il brindisi) appresa all’origine dai Magi e che per questo è sulla bocca di tutti, come racconta Clearco nei libri Sulla educazione.

Una soluzione alternativa, assai verisimile, mi è stata suggerita dall’amico Augusto Guida. Egli parte dal presupposto che Maneros sia il personaggio egizio istruito dai Magi e nota che nella redazione della glossa di Esichio resta difficile da intendere il διὰ τοῦτο, il motivo cioè per cui Maneros era divenuto famoso. Manca qui o il 14 15 16

H. Cherniss, recensione della prima edizione dei frammenti di Clearco di Wehrli (1948), in: AJPh 70, 1949, 415 = Selected Papers, Leiden 1977, 443. Citato da Diog. Laert. 1.9. Vedi il TLL III 285.59–286.54, s.v. cantilena e V 1, 118.14–38, s.v. decantare (B 1–2) del quale riproduco le definizioni.

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motivo del canto che da lui prende nome (accostato a Lino da una storia come quella narrata da Ninfodoro) o di una sua invenzione (come in Polluce dell’agricoltura) per cui era “sulla bocca di tutti”. Alla luce di queste considerazioni, Guida propone che in un’edizione di Clearco (ma non in una di Esichio) sia da postulare una lacuna dopo διδαχθέντα nella quale avrebbe trovato luogo una delle storielle che erano care a Clearco sui motivi che avevano reso famoso Maneros. Questa proposta ha il vantaggio di salvare il testo tradito della glossa di Esichio senza inserire l’oscuro hapax ἀμαλογῆσαι e aiuta anche a capire la struttura del testo originario di Clearco. 24.2 GALENUS, DE INDOLENTIA 13: ΠΛΑΤΩΝ O ΠΑΝΑΙΤΙΟΥ La pubblicazione dell’editio princeps dell’opuscolo di Galeno (129–dopo il 210 d. C.) intitolato Περὶ ἀλυπίας17 mi aveva offerto l’occasione di ritornare sul tema del metodo di lavoro degli scrittori antichi, che mi aveva occupato per lungo tempo fino dagli inizi degli anni Novanta del secolo scorso.18 Avevo allora riaperto il dibattito assai controverso sulle “edizioni” antiche di Platone alla luce della testimonianza del § 13 del testo di Galeno e mi ero soffermato su due aspetti specifici: gli esemplari Atticiani (Ἀττιακιανά) o attici (ἀττικά) dell’opera di Platone e l’esistenza di una “edizione” dei Dialoghi curata dal filosofo stoico Panezio di Rodi alla quale il medico di Pergamo avrebbe alluso con l’espressione Πλάτων ὁ Παναιτίου.19 L’espressione Πλάτων ὁ Παναιτίου che ha fatto sognare di una “edizione” dei Dialoghi curata dal filosofo Panezio merita un supplemento di indagine.20 Il passo di Galeno, assai mal tramandato e corrotto in più punti nel codex unicus di Salonicco, Vlatadon 14, ff. 10v-14v (s. XV), ha ricevuto di recente ulteriori cure che hanno contribuito a sanarlo e a renderlo più perspicuo. Il testo migliore mi sembra quello stabilito da Stramaglia, che trascrivo accompagnato dalla sua traduzione:21 οτε οὖν ὅσα σπάνια καὶ ἀλαχόθι μηδαμόθεν κείμενα δυνατόν ἐστιν εὑρεῖν ἔ{σ}τι{ν}, οὔτε τῶν μέσων , διὰ δὲ τὴν τῆς γραφῆς ἀκρίβειαν ἐσπουδασμένων, Καλλίνεια καὶ Ἀττίκεια {μὲν} καὶ Πεδουκαῖα, καὶ μὴν Ἀριστάρχεια – οἵτινές εἰσιν Ὅμηροι δύο –, καὶ Πλάτων ὁ Παναιτίου καὶ ἄλλα πολλὰ τοιαῦτα, διασῳζομένων ἐν τοις τῶν γραμμάτων ἐκείνων αὐτῶν ἃ καθ᾽ ἕκαστον βιβλίον ἢ ἔγραψαν ἢ ἐνεγράψαντο οἱ 17

18

19 20 21

V. Boudon–Millot, Un traité perdu de Galien miraculeusement retrouvé, le “Sur l’inutilité de se chagriner”: texte grec et traduction française, in: V. Boudon-Millot, A. Guardasole, M. Caroline (éd.), La science médicale antique. Nouveaux regards. Études réunies en l’honneur de J. Jouanna, Paris 2007, 72–123. Vedi T. Dorandi, Le stylet et la tablette. Dans le secret des auteurs antiques, Paris 2000, riproposto in italiano con sostanziali modifiche e ripensamenti col titolo: Nell’officina dei classici. Come lavoravano gli autori antichi, Roma 2007. Qualche ulteriore riflessione sul soggetto ho proposto nel mio articolo Ancient ἐκδόσεις. Further Lexical Observations on Sone Galen’s Evidences, in: Lexicon Philosophicum 2, 2014, 1–23. T. Dorandi, “Editori” antichi di Platone, in: Antiquorum Philosophia 4, 2011, 161–174. Dorandi, “Editori” antichi, 167–172. Stramaglia, Libri perduti, 120–129 (per l’apparato 120–121).

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ἄνδρες ὧν ἦν ἐπώνυμα τὰ βιβλία. καὶ γὰρ γραμματικῶν πολλῶν αὐτόγραφα βιβλία τῶν παλαιῶν ἔκειντο καὶ ῥητόρων καὶ ἰατρῶν καὶ φιλοσόφων. Non è dunque più possibile trovare né quei libri che sono rari e non disponibili da nessun’altra parte, né, di quelli abbastanza correnti , ma ricercati per la loro accuratezza grafica, (vari) esemplari callinii, atticii, peducei, e finanche aristarchei – vale a dire i due Omeri –, e il Platone di Panezio, e molti altri di tal genere: nei quali erano conservati quegli stessi scritti che, libro per libro, o avevano vergato o si erano trascritti gli uomini di cui quei libri portano il nome. E difatti erano in deposito libri autografi di molti antichi grammatici, retori, medici e filosofi.

Gourinat (che disponeva allora soltanto dell’editio princeps del testo22) aveva scorto in questo passo una testimonianza del fatto che l’amore di Panezio per Platone était allé jusqu’à l’existence d’un Platon de Panétius, qui, selon toute vraisemblance, consistait en une édition de Platon par Panétius, et dont un exemplaire était en possession de Galien jusqu’en 192, date où il le perdit dans l’incendie des dépôts de la Voie Sacrée.23

Per Gourinat, dunque, con l’espressione Πλάτων ὁ Παναιτίου Galeno indicava un’edizione di Platone “préparée par Panétius, peut-être pour son usage privé, et tout aussi célèbre que le Platon, le Démosthène ou l’Eschine d’Atticus, ou les Homère d’Aristarque”. Poiché nel medesimo contesto sono citate altre “edizioni” dobbiamo escludere che si tratti di un trattato di Panezio su Platone. Se rilette alla luce del passo di Galeno, le testimonianze relative all’interesse di Panezio per Platone prennent une toute autre signification et concordent avec l’existence d’un travail éditorial de Panétius concernant le texte de Platon: cette édition […] doit avoir été accompagnée d’un commentaire, qui peut soit avoir été un ouvrage parallèle […] soit une introduction de l’édition.24

Gourinat scorgeva infine nell’espressione Πλάτων ὁ Παναιτίου un’allusione alla pratica “de la bibliographie antique, qui est de mentionner une édition de référence soit d’après la ville où elle a été produite, soit d’après le nom de son éditeur quand il était connu: dans le premier cas, on parlait d’éditions κατὰ πόλεις, et dans l’autre cas d’éditions κατ᾿ ἄνδρα”, e rimanda per le cosiddette “edizioni” κατ᾿ ἄνδρα peculiari della “filologia” omerica, agli studi di West sulla trasmissione dell’Ilia­ de.25 L’interpretazione che West dà di queste “edizioni” come “‘personal’ texts, the ones named after particular scholars, or owners“26 va comunque e purtroppo in un 22 23 24 25 26

Boudon–Millot, Un traité perdu de Galien, 72–123. J.-B. Gourinat, “Le Platon de Panétius”. A propos d’un témoignage inédit de Galien, in: Philosophie Antique 8, 2008, 141. Gourinat, “Le Platon de Panétius”, 148, 149. Gourinat, “Le Platon de Panétius”, 145 citando M. L. West, Studies in the Text and Transmission of the “Iliad”, München und Leipzig 2001, 61–73. Bisogna però tenere conto dell’insieme delle pagine 33–73. West, Studies, 52. Come tali West interpreta l’Omero di Zenodoto (“Zenodotus’ text was a rhapsode’s copy, or directly descended from one. It was not a critical text constructed by him from multiple sources, but a single exemplar that he happened to own and in which he marked his atheteses: that was his διόρθωσις”, 43. Cf. 39 e 45), quello di Antimaco di Colofone (“it

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senso affatto contrario a quello che Gourinat intravede nella formula Πλάτων ὁ Παναιτίου, per la quale mancano paralleli nella letteratura greca superstite. La tesi di Gourinat continua a non convincermi nonostante uno sforzo da parte dello studioso di rispondere alle mie precedenti obiezioni27 Il ne peut guère faire de doute que le Platon de Panétius n’était pas un manuscrit de Platon en possession de Panétius mais bien le travail éditorial que celui-ci avait effectué, peut-être certes pour son usage personnel ou pour celui du cercle étroit de ses disciples, mais plus vraisemblablement en vue d’une publication. Galien […], place le “Platon de Panétius” sur le même plan que les Homère d’Aristarque, ce qui implique une édition connue et celèbre. La diffusion du Platon de Panétius peut avoir dépassé les intentions de celui-ci, mais, d’après la description de Galien, elle a acquis manifestement le statut d’une édition répandue. Une telle édition, bien entendu, n’est pas nécessairement une “édition critique” au sens moderne du terme, mais la publication d’un texte nouveau, supposant une correction des manuscrits que l’ “éditeur” avait à sa disposition.

A parte il fatto che Gourinat ha un’idea alquanto vaga di che cosa era una “edizione” antica di un testo letterario e attribuisce a Panezio metodi di lavoro “filologico” assai lontani dalle pratiche conosciute, mi appare assai difficile che l’espressione Πλάτων ὁ Παναιτίου possa significare “l’edizione di Platone curata da Panezio” e che il contesto di Galeno e le testimonianze sugli interessi di Panezio per Platone apportino un sostegno a questa proposta di lettura. La formula Πλάτων ὁ Παναιτίου in Galeno non può dunque che riferirsi a un manoscritto dei Dialoghi (che fosse o non una “edizione” curata da un ignoto γραμματικός) in possesso di Panezio, che poté eventualmente, come era solito fare lo stesso Galeno, annotarlo, correggerlo, collazionarlo con altri testimoni e quindi adattarlo alle proprie esigenze personali.28 Gli esemplari del testo di Platone appartenuto a Panezio – l’originale che presuppongo fosse conservato in una biblioteca del Palatino e la copia di questo che Galeno a quanto pare possedeva – andarono per sempre perduti nell’incendio degli inizi del 193 d.C. Il testo di Galeno quale restaurato da Stramaglia porta un’ulteriore conferma alla mia lettura (se mai ce n’è bisogno). In questo passo suggerisco con Stramaglia di mantenere αὐτόγραφα del codice, ma rinuncio alla sua congettura ἐνεγράψαντο (per l’impossibile ἀνεγράψαντο della paradosi) in favore di quella suggerita da Jouanna, ἀτεγράψαντο, dando tuttavia al verbo un senso diverso. Per Stramaglia αὐτόγραφα βιβλία non sono da intendere come gli

27 28

was evidently a set of book–rolls to be found in the Alexandrian library, labelled in some way as having belonged to Antimachus. […] it may simply have been his personal copy of Homer”, 53) e quello di Riano di Creta (“so there is not certainty that his was a critical recension […], rather than just a copy that he had owned” 57). J.-B. Gourinat, Le Platon de Panétius, in: R. Goulet (éd.), DPhA Va, Paris 2012, 135–137. Cf. V. Nutton, Galen’s Library, in: Chr. Gill, T. Whitmarsh, J. Wilkins (ed.), Galen and the World of Knowledge, Cambridge 2009, 28; P. L. Tucci, Galen’s Storeroom, Rome’s Libraries, and the Fire of A.D. 192, in: JRA 21, 2008, 142; Chr. Jones, Books and Libraries in a Newly-discovered Treatise of Galen, in: JRA 22, 2009, 391; Stramaglia, Libri perduti, 122; M. Vegetti, Galeno, Nuovi scritti autobiografici. Introduzione, traduzione e commento, Roma 2013, 289. Ora anche G. Cavallo, P.Mil. Vogl. I 19. Galeno e la produzione di libri greci a Roma in età imperiale, in: S&T 11, 2013, 1–14.

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“originali autografi” di opere composte dai παλαιοί stessi cui erano appartenuti quei libri, bensì come esemplari nei quali tali παλαιοί avevano trascritto di propria mano (ἐνεγράψαντο) ed arguibilmente in molti casi postillato, le opere di illustri auctores precedenti.29

La congettura ἀνεγράψαντο è quella che, a mio avviso, meglio conviene. Jouanna intende il verbo ἀντεγράφομαι nel senso di “transcrire”, richiamando un parallelo della Athenaion Politeia (54,3) di Aristotele relativo alle funzioni del segretario (γραμματεύς) della pritania, ὃς τῶν γραμμάτων ἐστὶ κύριος καὶ τὰ ψηφίσματα τὰ γιγνόμενα φυλάττει καὶ τἄλλα πάντα ἀντιγράφεται: On a bien affaire à la copie manuscrite. Il est bien évident que ce n’est pas le secrétaire qui copie lui-même et qu’il fait copier par des esclaves publics. Mais le factif est implicite.

Jouanna così traduce dunque la frase di Galeno:30 Étant donné qu’étaient conservés à l’intérieur (des bibliothèques) ces fameux écrits que, livre par livre, avaient écrits ou transcrits (ἀνεγράψαντο) les hommes auxquels les livres devaient leur nom.

Il significato del verbo ἀντιγράφομαι in questo contesto non mi sembra comunque sia quello di “trascrivere”, “copiare” (come già riconosce Stramaglia), ma piuttosto quello di “verificare”, “controllare”, o meglio, “riscontrare” un testo già scritto da un altro (uno scriba professionale o meno) per “collazione” con il proprio modello o eventualmente con altri esemplari. Tale è il senso che il verbo ἀντιγράφομαι ha anche nel già citato passo della Athenaion Politeia (e anche in 54,4), come provano i puntuali paralleli raccolti nel commento di Rhodes.31 Propongo quindi di tradurre così questa parte della frase di Galeno: nei quali erano conservati quegli stessi scritti che, libro per libro, o avevano vergato o riscontrato gli uomini di cui quei libri portano il nome.

Dunque libri copiati (ἔγραψαν) per uso personale dagli uomini dei quali quei libri portano il nome (ἄνδρες ὧν ἦν ἐπώνυμα τὰ βιβλία) o libri copiati da altri e riscontrati (ἀνεγράψαντο) con i modelli originali (forse anche “collazionati” con altri esemplari) dagli uomini di cui quei libri portano il nome. Il “Platone di Panezio” di cui parla Galeno rientra in questa seconda categoria. BIBLIOGRAFIA Altenmüller, H., Maneros – Trinkspruch oder Klagelied?, in: R. Rolle, K. Schmidt (Hrsg.), Archäologische Studien in Kontaktzonen der antiken Welt, Göttingen 1998, 17–26 Beekes, R. S. P. Etymological Dictionary of Greek, Leiden/Boston 2010 Boudon-Millot V., Un traité perdu de Galien miraculeusement retrouvé, le “Sur l’inutilité de se 29 30 31

Stramaglia, Libri perduti, 128. J. Jouanna, in: Galien, “Ne pas se chagriner”. Texte établi et traduit par V. Boudon-Millot et J. Jouanna, avec la collaboration de A. Pietrobelli, Paris 2010, 53–54, da cui le citazioni. P.-J. Rhodes, A Commentary on the Aristotelian “Athenaion Politeia”, Oxford 1981, 600–604. Rhodes, 601 traduce καὶ τἄλλα πάντα ἀντιγράφεται: “And checks the recording of everything else”). Come Jouanna, intende il Diccionario Griego–Espanol, s.v. ἀντιγράφω II “hacer copiar el secretario de la pritania”.

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chagriner”: texte grec et traduction française, in: V. Boudon-Millot, A. Guardasole, M. Caroline (éd.), La science médicale antique. Nouveaux regards. Études réunies en l’honneur de J. Jouanna, Paris 2007, 72–123 Bücheler, F., Über Alkiphron, in: RhMus 58, 1903, 453–458 = Kleine Schriften, 3, Leipzig und Berlin 1930, 299–303 Bungarten, J. J., Menanders und Glykeras Brief bei Alkiphron, Diss. Bonn 1967 Cavallo, G., P.Mil. Vogl. I 19. Galeno e la produzione di libri greci a Roma in età imperiale, in: S&T 11, 2013, 1–14 Cherniss, H., review of Wehrli, Klearchos (1948), in: AJPh 70, 1949, 414–418 = Selected Papers, Leiden 1977, 442–446 Dorandi T., Le stylet et la tablette. Dans le secret des auteurs antiques, Paris 2000 Dorandi T., Nell’officina dei classici. Come lavoravano gli autori antichi, Roma 2007 Dorandi T., “Editori” antichi di Platone, in: Antiquorum Philosophia 4, 2011, 161–174 Dorandi T., Ancient ἐκδόσεις. Further Lexical Observations on Sone Galen’s Evidences, in: Lexicon Philosophicum 2, 2014, 1–23 Galien, “Ne pas se chagriner”. Texte établi et traduit par V. Boudon-Millot et J. Jouanna, avec la collaboration de A. Pietrobelli, Paris 2010 Gourinat J.-B., “Le Platon de Panétius”. A propos d’un témoignage inédit de Galien, in: PhilosAnt 8, 2008, 139–151 Gourinat J.-B., Le Platon de Panétius, in: R. Goulet (éd.), DPhA Va, Paris 2012, 135–137 Grošelj, M., Etyma Graeca, in: Živa antika 7, 1957, 40 Jones Chr., Books and Libraries in a Newly-discovered Treatise of Galen, in: JRA 22, 2009, 390– 397 Latte, K., Zur griechischen Wortforschung, in: Glotta 32, 1932, 33–42 = Kleine Schriften, München 1968, 680–688 Nutton V., Galen’s Library, in: Chr. Gill, T. Whitmarsh, J. Wilkins (ed.), Galen and the World of Knowledge, Cambridge 2009, 19–34 Rhodes P.-J., A Commentary on the Aristotelian “Athenaion Politeia”, Oxford 1981 Stramaglia A., Libri perduti per sempre: Galeno, “De indolentia” 13; 16; 17–19, in: RFIC 139, 2011, 118–147 Taifacos, I., Ἀρχαία Κυπριακὴ γραμματεία. 6. Φιλοσοφία. Κλέαρχος, Περσαῖος, Δημῶναξ, ἄλλοι Κύπριοι φιλόσοφοι, Λευκωσία 2008 Tucci P. L., Galen’s Storeroom, Rome’s Libraries, and the Fire of A.D. 192, in: JRA 21, 2008, 133– 149 Vegetti M., Galeno, Nuovi scritti autobiografici. Introduzione, traduzione e commento, Roma 2013 West M. L., Studies in the Text and Transmission of the “Iliad”, München und Leipzig 2001 Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, U. v., Lesefrüchte, in: Hermes 44, 1909, 445–76 = Kleine Schriften 4, Berlin 1962, 224–253

25 LE EKPHRASEIS DI ZENONE, CLEANTE E CRISIPPO Aldo Brancacci Abstract Ekphrasis is a particular genre of literary description. It has a peculiarity: it aims to describe the objects as if they were actually and physically existing. Ekphrasis is also the most ancient way of writing about art in the Western literary tradition. On the philosophical level, the basic question arising from the understanding of the literary practice of ekphrasis concerns the relationship between word and image. This paper examines the ekphrasis in the ancient Stoicism by studying in detail several texts related to ekphraseis: a fragment by Zeno and two fragments by Cleanthes and Chrysippus. This essay focuses on the philosophical meanings of this literary genre, and identifies the first philosophical evidence of this practice in a little-known fragment by Antisthenes the Socratic. L’ekphrasis è un particolare genere di descrizione letteraria associata alla visione mirante a rendere la percezione delle cose descritte come se esse fossero fisicamente presenti, o reali, ed è anche il primo e più antico modo di scrivere intorno all’arte nella tradizione occidentale. Essa nasce in Grecia, e in Grecia, ma anche nella tradizione latina, conosce una fortuna ininterrotta, da Omero fino alla tarda antichità, anche se può certamente dirsi che essa raggiunge la sua massima fioritura nella prima età imperiale, per poi trasmettersi, attraverso una importante ripresa nel Rinascimento, all’età moderna e all’età contemporanea. Definita nella tradizione retorica antica come “un discorso descrittivo che pone l’oggetto davanti agli occhi con vivida chiarezza”,1 l’ekphrasis contempla una grande varietà di oggetti possibili, e già Omero dedica spazio alla descrizione di immagini mediante il verso: celebre in particolare, anche perché straordinariamente ricca e dettagliata, è quella dei riquadri raffigurati nello scudo di Achille, una descrizione che costituirà un modello nella poesia alessandrina e per i poeti latini.2 Oltre a persone, cose, situazioni, luoghi, tempi,3 l’ekphrasis può avere come oggetto anche opere d’arte: quadri, o opere della statuaria. Particolarmente significativa questa tradizione è, almeno per gli interessi che sono i nostri, quando essa sia stata coltivata non da abili retori, o scrittori di grande calibro, ma da filosofi: e in questo studio noi ci occuperemo innanzitutto di una importante, e precoce, testimonianza di tale genere letterario reperibile nell’ambito dello stoicismo antico. Nell’esaminarla, il nostro interesse sarà d’or1 2 3

Cfr. Theon. progymn. 11 (II 118 Spengel); Hermog. progymn. 10 (II 16, 32 Spengel). Cfr. Hom. Il. XVIII vv. 475–607. Per la sua posteriore fortuna cfr. P. Friedländer, Johannes von Gaza und Paulus Silentiarius, Leipzig 1912, 1 ff. Cfr. Hermog. progymn. 10 (II 16 Spengel).

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dine eminentemente filosofico: mireremo, per un verso, a recuperare il contenuto propriamente teorico che essa intende esprimere, e presteremo particolare attenzione, per un altro verso, al problema di situarla in una prospettiva storico-filosofica il più possibile precisa. Vedremo inoltre come tale inquadramento prospettico debba riguardare sia gli antecedenti della testimonianza, relativa a Zenone, da cui prenderà avvio la nostra analisi, sia la posterità della prassi attestata da Zenone all’interno della tradizione dello stoicismo antico, ove essa sarà raccolta e ripresa da Cleante e da Crisippo. La questione di fondo che pone, sul piano filosofico, la comprensione della prassi letteraria dell’ekphrasis, è quella delle relazioni tra parola e immagine, quest’ultima intesa sia come immagine mentale sia come immagine fisica, e l’immagine fisica potendo essere a sua volta o reale o riprodotta. Tali relazioni sono documentate nel pensiero greco da una lunga tradizione, situata all’incrocio tra poesia, filosofia, poetica e tradizione delle arti figurative, la quale affonda le sue radici in età arcaica. Alle sue origini è possibile porre, in certo modo, il motto attribuito a Simonide, secondo cui la pittura è una poesia silenziosa, la poesia una pittura parlante.4 Malgrado, nell’esegesi di questo frammento, si sia per lo più sottolineato che ciò che nella visione simonidea doveva avvicinare la poesia e la pittura era il loro comune carattere mimetico,5 è egualmente vero, e la contrapposizione tra σιωπῶσα e λαλοῦσα lo conferma, che poesia e pittura dovevano poi differenziarsi agli occhi del poeta proprio per la presenza o l’assenza di quell’elemento fonico cui gli antichi attribuivano un valore espressivo che andava al di là della semplice denotazione della cosa significata.6 Questa valutazione, che in ultima analisi è coerente, a ben vedere, con l’affermazione, propria dei poeti corali, secondo cui l’arte della parola è superiore all’arte figurativa,7 non è contraddetta, ma solo arricchita, anche se poi via via sempre più complicata, dalla decisa valorizzazione del ruolo mimetico, e quindi del valore espressivo, attribuito nel v e nel iv secolo alle arti figurative e plastiche: da Empedocle a Eschilo a Gorgia e all’ambiente sofistico,8 fino a quella 4

5

6

7 8

Cfr. Plutarch. De glor. Ath. 3, p. 346 f.: ὁ Σιμωνίδης τὴν μὲν ζωγραφίαν ποίησιν σιωπῶσαν προσαγορεύει, τὴν δὲ ποίησιν ζωγραφίαν λαλοῦσαν. A quanti hanno negato l’autenticità simonidea del detto – e da ultimo vedi J.C. Thioler, Plutarque. De Gloria Atheniensium, Paris 1985, 73 – osservando che il termine “ποίησις” nel senso assoluto di ‘poesia’ compare per la prima volta in Erodoto, è lecito obiettare, con G. Lanata, Poetica pre-platonica. Testimonianze e frammenti, Firenze 1963, 68–69, che il testo, quale noi lo leggiamo, può risentire della riformulazione verbale di Plutarco. E questa indicazione non va messa in dubbio. Una controprova è data dal commento di Plutarco al luogo simonideo, che suona: ὕλῃ καὶ τρόποις μιμήσεως διαφέρουσι (sc. ζωγράφοι καὶ ποιηταί), τέλος δ’ ἀμφοτέροις ἓν ὑπόκειται. Cfr. W. Kraus, Die Auffassung des Dichterberufes im frühen Griechentum, in: Wiener Studien 68, 1955, 82. Sul nesso tra dimensione verbale e dimensione visiva, e sul carattere della mimesi nell’arte figurativa greca, si vedano le osservazioni di B. Marzullo, I sofismi di Prometeo, Firenze 1993, 341 n. 6. Per questa osservazione cfr. A. Plebe, Recenti interpretazioni del concetto greco di mimesi, in: Dioniso, 20, 1957, 104. Si aggiunga che il suono – e il riferimento è in questo caso alla musica – ha di per sé il potere di creare immagini (φάσματα) nella mente dell’ascoltatore: cfr. Soph. Ichn. 322–23 Pearson. Cfr. B. Gentili, Poesia e pubblico nella Grecia antica, Roma-Bari 1989, 214 ff. Per Empedocle, cfr. Simpl. Phys., 159, 27 (= 31 B 23 DK), ove la ποικιλία τῶν φαρμάκων di

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singolare conversazione tra Socrate, il pittore Parrasio e lo scultore Kleiton,9 riferita da Senofonte nei Memorabili, in cui è per la prima volta esposta una poetica della pittura e della scultura che alle due arti assegna, in un evidente rapporto di competitività con l’estetica della parola, il compito di rappresentare l’una il carattere morale dell’anima (τὸ τῆς ψυχῆς ἦθος), l’altra le emozioni (πάθη), che da movimenti e da atteggiamenti di particolare intensità traspaiono nel corpo scolpito.10 Lo stesso Simonide potrebbe essere indicato, sia pure convenzionalmente, come il più antico testimone del movimento concettuale inverso, per il quale la potenza del linguaggio, la sua capacità ad affermarsi nella memoria e nella considerazione dell’uomo, la sua stessa disponibilità a determinare la condotta e le azioni umane, sono non solo genericamente indotte dalla funzione mimetica che del linguaggio è propria rispetto alla realtà esterna, ma confermate e in certo modo surdeterminate dal paragone istituito tra linguaggio, o poesia, e statua, o arti figurative e plastiche. In quest’ottica, il linguaggio è esso stesso “immagine” delle azioni e della realtà esterna, e il termine εἰκών, riferito al λόγος, designa un rapporto con la realtà che è dell’ordine della somiglianza, o dell’imitazione, proprio perché quel singolare oggetto creato dal poeta che è la parola è sentito come analogo a una pittura o a una statua. Oltre che da un altro celebre frammento simonideo, in cui si legge la lapidaria formula ὁ λόγος τῶν πραγμάτων εἰκών ἐστι,11 questo punto risulta, in un’e-

9

10

11

cui si avvale la pittura è collegata a una forma seducente di inganno (ἀπάτη): e per la ποικιλία τοῦ λόγου pindarica si ricordino O. I 28–34; O. VI 86–87; P. IX 76–79. Per la ἡδεῖα νόσος procurata alla vista (non diversamente da quanto fa il λόγος all’anima) dalle opere della pittura e della statuaria, cfr. Gorg. Hel. 18 (= 82 B 11 DK). E su Gorgia basti il rinvio a Ch. Segal, Gorgias and the Psychology of the logos, in: Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, 66, 1962, 99–15; J. de Romilly, Gorgias et le pouvoir de la poésie, in: Journal of Hellenic Studies, 93, 1973, 155–62; Per la straordinaria capacità imitativa della statua, alla quale peraltro manca la parola, cfr. il frammento dei Θεωροὶ ἢ Ἰσθμιασθαί di Eschilo in POxy 2162, fr. 1a, col. I, v. 7, edito in Lanata, Poetica pre-platonica, 139–41. Quest’ultimo da identificare forse con Policleto: per un riesame di tutta la questione rinvio al mio articolo citato nella successiva nota 10. Senz’altro favorevoli all’identificazione di Kleiton con Policleto sono R. Bianchi Bandinelli, Policleto, Firenze 1938, 26; C. Picard, Manuel d’archéologie grecque. La sculpture, vol. II, Paris 1939, 259, 262–63, 661 n. 1; P. E. Arias, Policleto, Milano 1964, 43; R. Bianchi Bandinelli, Storicità dell’arte classica, Bari 1973, 3a ed., 143. Cfr. Xen. Mem. III 10, 1–8, e, su questo testo, A. Brancacci, Socrate critico d’arte, in: G. Giannantoni e M. Narcy (a cura di), Lezioni Socratiche, Napoli 1997, 121–51 (una prima versione di questo articolo è apparsa in: Elenchos 16, 1995, 101–27, con il titolo: Ethos e pathos nella teoria delle arti: una poetica socratica della pittura e della scultura), cui rinvio anche per ulteriori indicazioni bibliografiche, alle quali è ora da aggiungere A. Stavru, Senofonte: l’espressione di ethos e pathos, nel suo volume Il potere dell’apparenza. Percorso storico-critico nell’estetica antica, Napoli 2011, 131–67. Si tratta del fr. 190b Bergk, su cui cfr. C. M. Bowra, Greek Lyric Poetry from Alcman to Simonides, Oxford 1961, tr. it. La poesia lirica greca da Alcmane a Simonide, Firenze 1973, 363; M. Detienne, Les maîtres de vérité dans la Grèce ancienne, Paris 1967, tr. it. I maestri di verità nella Grecia arcaica, Bari 1977, 81; J. Svembro, La parole et le marbre, Lund 1976, tr. it. La parola e il marmo: alle origini della poetica greca, Torino 1984, 135 e 156. In connessione con questo frammento si ricordi anche la sentenza democritea restituita da Plutarch. de puer. ed. 14, p. 9 f. (= 68 B 145 DK): λόγος […] ἔργου σκιή, (“il discorso è l’ombra dell’azione”) in cui

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poca di poco posteriore a quella di Simonide, dalla teoria della parola-immagine di Democrito, il quale chiamava i nomi degli dei “statue dotate di voce” (ἀγάλματα φωνήεντα),12 o dalla concezione, attribuita ai Pitagorici, secondo cui le parole sono esse stesse ἀγάλματα o εἰκόνες delle cose.13 Senza parlare, in epoca più tarda, di quella definizione, testimoniata da Platone nel Cratilo,14 del nome (ὄνομα) e dell’arte onomastica, i cui elementi appaiono in quasi esclusiva misura desunti dal vocabolario della μίμησις, comune alle arti figurative e plastiche, alla poesia e alla musica.15 Queste due tradizioni costituiscono il fondo su cui si edificano le teorie filosofiche della rappresentazione e dell’immagine, le quali costituiscono a loro volta la condizione della valorizzazione non solo estetica ma anche cognitiva della pittura e della scultura. In Aristotele, al quale in questo contesto il riferimento è d’obbligo, dalla convinzione per cui è impossibile pensare senza immagine mentale (φάντασμα)16 deriva una teoria che, connettendosi con i principi della teoria dell’imitazione, crea uno spazio specifico per le arti mimetiche, il cui fine ultimo è di porre davanti agli occhi (πρὸ ὀμμάτων) dell’uomo un’immagine che s’impone alla sua mente, nella misura in cui fa conoscere (γνωρίζειν) la realtà rappresentata e ne provoca anzi il riconoscimento;17 esattamente come, nel registro del linguaggio,

12

13 14

15 16

17

σκιή rinvia di nuovo alla metafora grafica, che però in questo caso vale a indebolire la portata mimetica, o meglio la funzione puramente riproduttiva, del linguaggio rispetto alla res. Cfr. Hierocl. in Pyth. carm. aur. 5 (= 68 B 142 DK), e per il termine agalma cfr. anche Procl. in Crat. 16 p. 6, 10 Pasquali (= 68 B 26 DK). Su questi testi, e sulla concezione democritea del linguaggio, cfr. A. Brancacci, Les mots et les choses: la philosophie du language chez Démocrite, in AA.VV., Philosophie du language et grammaire dans l’antiquité, Bruxelles-Grenoble 1986, 9–28. Per il valore del termine ἄγαλμα cfr. K. Kerényi, Agalma, eikon, eidolon in: Archivio di filosofia, 1, 1962, 161–71. Cfr. Procl. in Crat. 16 p. 6, 10 Pasquali. Cfr. Plat. Crat. 423 b 9–11: ὄναμ’ ἄρ’ ἐστίν, ὡς ἔοικε, μίμημα φωνῇ ἐκείνου ὃ μιμεῖται, καὶ ὀνομάζει ὁ μιμούμενος τῇ φωνῇ ὃ ἂν μιμῆται. Su questo passo cfr. F. Aronadio, I fondamenti della riflessione di Platone sul linguaggio: il Cratilo, Roma 2011, 72, il quale mostra come questa definizione sia assunta solo a scopo dialettico dal personaggio Socrate per aprire la strada alla sua confutazione e all’affermazione della tesi per cui il nome è piuttosto δήλωμα. In particolare per la musica, cfr. A. Brancacci, Musica, mimesis e paideia nella Repubblica di Platone, in: Giornale Critico della Filosofia Italiana 89 (91), 2010, 48–71. Cfr. Aristot. de mem. et rem. 449 b 30: νοεῖν οὐκ ἔστιν ἄνευ φαντάσματος. Lo stesso principio vale, per estensione, anche per la memoria: cfr. ibid. 450 a 10: ἡ δὲ μνήμη καὶ τῶν νοητῶν οὐκ ἄνευ φαντάσματός ἐστιν. Cfr. inoltre de an. 427 b 15 ss. per la definizione della fantasia; ibid. 429 a 5 ss. per il ruolo della vista nella costituzione dell’immagine mentale; ibid. 432 a 9 ss. per l’immagine mentale come condizione del pensiero. Per la concezione aristotelica della fantasia, il cui significato è, notoriamente, dibattuto e controverso, basti il rinvio a M. Schofield, Aristotle on the Imagination, in Aristotle on Mind and the Senses, ed. G. E. R. Lloyd and G. E. L. Owen, Cambridge 1978, 99–140. Si veda inoltre, per il rapporto tra φαντασία e μίμησις, B. Schweitzer, Mimesis und Phantasia. Zur antiken Kunsttheorie, in: Philologus 89, 1934, 286–300. Per il rapporto con la μνήμη, lo stato della questione è in C. W. Veloso & F. R. Puente, Note sur la bibliographie récente (2000–2005) sur le De memoria d’Aristote, in: Méthexis 18, 2005, 97–118. Cfr. Aristot. Poët. 1445 b 15–17: διὰ γὰρ τοῦτο χαίρουσι τὰς εἰκόνας ὁρῶντες, ὅτι συμβαίνει θεωροῦντας μανθάνειν καὶ συλλογίζεσθαι τί ἕκαστον, οἷον ὅτι οὗτος ἐκεῖνος.

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virtù della metafora è quella di porre le cose davanti agli occhi (πρὸ ὀμμάτων), significando le cose in atto.18 Il valore accordato al ruolo dell’immagine nel processo cognitivo è egualmente forte presso gli Stoici, con i quali, tuttavia, si produce un importante cambiamento di prospettiva rispetto ad Aristotele. Venuta meno la posizione intermedia della φαντασία tra sensazione (αἴσθησις) e pensiero (διάνοια), propria di Aristotele,19 si fa strada una concezione per la quale la rappresentazione fa vedere tutto insieme, essa stessa e l’oggetto che l’ha prodotta.20 Qui, certo, è la radice dell’interesse costante che gli Stoici hanno manifestato per l’immagine, considerata in se stessa, e tuttavia, in questo senso, interamente piegata all’imperativo aristotelico di porre le cose πρὸ ὀμμάτων. Posto che con le espressioni πρὸ ὀμμάτων ποιεῖν, σημαινεῖν ἐνέργειαν, σημαίνειν ἐνεργοῦντα, Aristotele aveva inteso indicare la specifica capacità di “significare attività”, di “rappresentare le cose come fossero in atto”,21 possiamo notare innanzitutto come d’impronta aristotelica, dal punto di vista teoretico, sia la definizione dell’ekphrasis riportata in apertura di questo studio, e come molto vicina a questa appaia, in definitiva, la funzione che gli Stoici hanno attribuito all’immagine. Essa svolge una funzione assai importante nell’illustrazione dei principi fondamentali del sistema,22 ove determina un passaggio dal piano della concettualizzazione a quello della visione, e inversamente un passaggio, omogeneo a quello precedente, dalla realtà raffigurata, o immaginata, ai principi teorici che reggono il sistema. Questo secondo movimento si esprime in una tradizione particolarissima: quella della descrizione delle opere d’arte, quadri o statue, che dagli Stoici si trasmetterà alla pratica dell’ἔκφρασις, trionfante in età imperiale;23 e, ancora, nella costruzione, mediante il linguaggio, di quadri allegorici e statue, uti-

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21 22

23

Cfr. Aristot. Rhet. III 1411 b 25. Per la metafora in Aristotele, rinvio a P. Rodrigo, La métaphore. L’euphorie de la langue, nel suo volume Aristote, l’eidétique et la phénoménologie, Grenoble 1995, 75–89. Cfr. Aristot. De an. 427 b 15 sgg. Cfr. Aët. 4, 12, 1–5 (= SVF II 54), ove questa definizione della fantasia è riferita a Crisippo; per la definizione di Zenone cfr. Sext. Emp. M. VII 236 e 230 (= SVF I 58); ibid. 248 (= SVF I 59). Cfr. anche Cic. Acad. pr. 24, 77 (= SVF I 59): “E che cosa esattamente è la rappresentazione? Zenone deve aver dato allora la sua definizione della rappresentazione: ciò che è impresso, segnato e foggiato da ciò che è, così come è”. Come sottolinea A. M. Mesturini, Aristotele, Poetica 17 e Retorica III 10–11, in: Sandalion 16–17, 1993–1994, 59–62. Sul ruolo dell’immagine nello stoicismo cfr. C. Imbert, Théorie de la représentation et doctrine logique dans le stoïcisme ancien, in AA.VV., Les Stoïciens et leur logique, Actes du Colloque de Chantilly (18–22 septembre 1976), Paris 1978, 241–44. Sulla funzione delle metafore e dei paragoni nell’illustrazione di elementi della dottrina stoica cfr. A. M. Ioppolo, Aristone di Chio e lo stoicismo antico, Napoli 1980, 73, 91–96, 188–202. Sul rapporto, mediato appunto dagli Stoici, tra ἐνάργεια e φαντασία, cfr. Ps. Long. Subl. 15, e le notazioni di C. Irmer, Stoic Logic and Alexandrian Poetics, in: M. Schofield, M. Burnyeat, J. Barnes (eds), Doubt and Dogmatism. Studies in Hellenistic Epistemology, Oxford 1980, 182–216. Su di essa cfr. l’introduzione di F. Lissarrague a Philostrate. La galerie des tableaux, Paris 1991, 1–7, nonché Luciano di Samosata. Descrizioni di opere d’arte, a cura di S. Maffei, Torino 1994, XV-LXXXVI, cui rinvio per ulteriori indicazioni bibliografiche.

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lizzati a fini pedagogici, ma volti anche, a ben vedere, alla codificazione letteraria, all’edificazione, della dottrina. Quest’ultima procedura è rappresentata in modo esemplare da un frammento di Zenone, restituito da Clemente Alessandrino, finora trascurato dagli interpreti, o citato quasi esclusivamente per il suo contenuto etico, e invece degno di interesse sotto vari punti di vista. Su di esso ha il merito di aver recentemente attratto l’attenzione Schofied, il quale gli ha dedicato un’appendice del suo libro su Zenone.24 Lo studioso, però, si fonda, per il testo del frammento zenoniano, sulla vecchia edizione di Clemente Alessandrino di Dindorf, e non tiene conto dell’edizione del Paedagogus di Stählin. Poiché il frammento presenta alcuni problemi di natura testuale, e uno preliminare di taglio, sarà opportuno avere presente innanzitutto il testo su cui ci si fonderà in questo studio, che tiene presente quello pubblicato da Stählin, ma non si identifica con esso: καλήν τινα καὶ ἀξιέραστον ὑπογράφειν ὁ Κιτιεὺς ἔοικε Ζήνων εἰκόνα νεανίου καὶ οὕτως αὐτὸν ἀνδριαντουργεῖ· “ἔστω”, φησί, “καθαρὸν τὸ πρόσωπον, ὀφρὺς μὴ καθειμένη, μηδὲ ὄμμα ἀναπεπταμένον μηδὲ διακεκλασμένον, μὴ ὕπτιος ὁ τράχηλος, μηδὲ ἀνιέμενα τὰ τοῦ σώματος μέλη, ἀλλὰ μετέωρα ἐντόνοις ὅμοια, ὀρθὸν οὖς πρὸς τὸν λόγον, ὀξύτης καὶ κατοκωχὴ τῶν ὀρθῶς εἰρημένων, καὶ σχηματισμοὶ καὶ κινήσεις μηδὲν ἐνδιδοῦσαι τοῖς ἀκολάστοις ἐλπίδος. αἰδὼς μὲν ἐπανθείτω καὶ ἀρρενωπία· ἀπέστω δὲ καὶ ὁ ἀπὸ τῶν μυροπωλίων καὶ χρυσοχοείων καὶ ἐριοπωλίων ἄλυς καὶ ὁ ἀπὸ τῶν ἄλλων ἐργαστηρίων, ἔνθα ἑταιρικῶς κεκοσμημένοι, ὥσπερ ἐπὶ τέγους καθεζόμεναι, διημερεύουσι”. ______________________________________________________ 1 ὑπογράφειν---9: Zeno Citieus, SVF I 246 = fr. 174 Pearson ______________________________________________________ 1 νεανίου Cobet, νεανίᾳ Ma et Stählin, νεανία P, νεανίδα F – 3 διακεκλασμένον Cobet, ἀνακεκλασμένον P – 4 τὰ ante μετέωρα del. Wachsmuth et edd. – 5 ὀρθὸν οὖς Cobet, ὀρθόνου P, ὀρθόνους Potter et Stählin, ὀρθὸς νοῦς Wachsmuth – ὀξύτης del. Dindorf – κατοκωχὴ P, κατακωχὴ F, κατοχὴ M et P2 in marg. – 6 κινήσεις P* M, κίνησις P2 F – ἐνδιδοῦσαι P3 M2, ἐνδιδοῦσα P* F M* – 7 ὁ ins. Vi – 9 κεκοσμημένοι Cobet, κεκοσμημέναι P – Muenzel – 10 καθεζόμενοι Cobet

E se ne veda ora la traduzione italiana: Zenone di Cizio sembra disegnare l’immagine, bella davvero e amabile, di un giovinetto, e con queste parole ne plasma la statua: “Puro”, dice, “il volto, non aggrottato il ciglio, lo sguardo né sfrontato né languido; non reclino il collo, non rilasciate le membra del corpo, ma ritte come corde tese: orecchio desto all’ascolto del logos, capacità di comprendere e assimilare rapidamente ciò che è detto in modo retto. Che i suoi atteggiamenti e i suoi movimenti non lascino speranza alcuna agli impudenti. Fioriscano in lui insieme pudore e spirito virile: sia in lui assente l’aria di dissipazione che nasce dalla frequentazione dei profumieri, dei mercanti d’oro e di lana e di tutti gli altri bottegai presso i quali certuni, ornati come etère, passano il loro tempo come fossero seduti in un lupanare.

24

Cfr. M. Schofield, The Stoic Idea of the City, Cambridge 1991, 115–18.

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Va innanzitutto notato che, diversamente da quanto avviene negli Stoicorum Ve­ terum Fragmenta di von Arnim, il quale utilizza l’edizione settecentesca di Clemente Alessandrino di Potter, e taglia il frammento di Zenone a partire da ὑπογράφειν, Stählin ristabilisce il testo corretto, facendo iniziare la citazione di Zenone con l’espressione καλὴν τινα καὶ ἀξιέραστον, la quale non fa parte della frase precedente, che è una citazione scritturale, e restituisce al frammento zenoniano il suo significato.25 Ed ora alcune notazioni sul testo da me accettato. Alla l. 1 accolgo l’emendamento νεανίου proposto da Cobet e già suggerito da Dindorf, e in seguito adottato, o presupposto, in varie traduzioni moderne del testo di Clemente e del frammento zenoniano26. Il dativo νεανίᾳ, adottato da Stählin, offre anch’esso un senso accettabile, e arricchirebbe anzi il testo di una sfumatura: l’εἰκών immaginata da Zenone sarebbe stata plasmata per un giovinetto, a suo beneficio, e in accordo con il carattere protreptico del frammento, che più avanti si rileverà; Clemente deriverebbe questa informazione dalla lettura dell’intero testo di cui dispone e di cui cita una parte. Malgrado ciò, è preferibile accogliere l’emendamento νεανίου, poiché il genitivo oggettivo facilita il passaggio all’αὐτόν successivo, che altrimenti suonerebbe duro dopo la lunga frase al femminile e l’enfasi derivante dal καλὴν τινα in posizione prolettica. Alla l. 5 l’ὀρθόνου dei mss. è stato variamente corretto, ma l’emendamento più felice, scartato quello di Wachsmuth (ὀρθὸς νοῦς non è un concetto stoico), scartato anche l’ὀρθόνους di Stählin, che è termine non attestato, è l’ὀρθὸν οὖς proposto da Cobet, approvato da Schofield. A sostegno di ὀρθὸν οὖς si possono citare numerosi passi laerziani nei quali Zenone sottolinea insistentemente, spesso con esplicito riferimento alla figura di un giovinetto, o all’allievo che deve essere formato, il grande valore dell’udito ai fini dell’educazione filosofica. La capacità e volontà di ascoltare è innanzitutto carattere peculiare dello spi25

26

Cfr. Clemens Alexandrinus. Protrepticus und Paedagogus, hrsg. von O. Stählin, Dritte, durchgesehene Auflage von U. Treu, Berlin 1972, 277. Anche Schofield, The Stoic Idea, 115 n. 1, propone questo stesso taglio, ma sembra non essersi reso conto che tale taglio del frammento è già stato stabilito da Stählin nella sua edizione, che in effetti lo studioso non cita. Lo stesso Stählin, la cui seconda edizione del Paedagogus, che notoriamente è quella che fa testo, è del 1936, traducendo nel 1934 in tedesco l’opera clementina nella “Bibliothek der Kirchenväter”, così rendeva il passo in esame: “Ein schönes und liebenswertes Bild eines Jünglings scheint Zenon von Kition zu zeichnen und gibt seiner Gestalt folgende Züge” (Clemens von Alexandreia, Der Erzieher, aus dem griechischen übersetzt von O. Stählin, “Bibliothek der Kirchenväter”, Zweite Reihe, Band VIII, p. 199). La stessa interpunzione del testo di Clemente è adottata nella più recente edizione del Paedagogus, apparsa nelle “Sources chrétiennes” ad opera di C. Mondésert, C. Matray e H.-I. Marrou, i quali traducono in francese e annotano l’opera, riproducendo il testo critico della seconda edizione di Clemente di Stählin. Al taglio del frammento stabilito da Stählin si attengono, rispettivamente nelle loro traduzioni dell’opera di Clemente e del frammento di Zenone, M. G. Bianco, Il Protrettico e Il Pedagogo di Clemente Alessandrino, Torino 1971, 440, e M. Isnardi Parente, Stoici antichi, Torino 1989, vol. I, 208. Da notare che C. Mondésert e C. Matray, Clément d’Alexandrie. Le pédagogue, Livre III, Paris 1970 (“Sources chrétiennes”, 158), 145, traducono “c’est un beau et aimable portrait de jeune homme que semble nous esquisser Zénon de Kition etc.”, come se il testo greco da loro pubblicato portasse νεανίου, mentre invece reca il νεανίᾳ adottato da Stählin.

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rito filosofico.27 Di qui il primato dell’ascolto rispetto alla parola,28 nonché la superiorità dell’apprendimento realizzato mercè il vivo ascolto rispetto alla pratica della scrittura;29 di qui, soprattutto, la necessità di esercitare la mente a cogliere quanto è utile in ciò che ci vien detto;30 di qui, infine, l’elaborazione di una vera e propria teoria relativa ai rapporti tra ascolto, intelligenza, capacità etica, la quale sembra condurre proprio vicinissimo alla prescrizione rivolta al giovane nel nostro passo.31 Alla l. 5, ὀξύτης è stato espunto da Dindorf come glossa di ὀρθὸν οὖς, e su questa strada Schofield espunge ὀξύτης καὶ κατακωχὴ τῶν ὀρθῶς εἰρημένων in base all’argomento che con queste parole sarebbe introdotto il primo riferimento ad attributi non fisici in un testo che, a parere dello studioso, contiene solo riferimenti a qualità fisiche.32 Ma è facile vedere che l’argomento è contraddetto dall’ultima, lunga sezione del discorso di Zenone, in cui il riferimento a qualità morali e psicologiche del giovane è del tutto evidente, e insistito. L’espunzione va dunque rifiutata, tanto più che i loci paralleli già raccolti per illustrare il tema dell’ὀρθὸν οὖς mettono in luce lo stretto raccordo posto da Zenone tra un dato fisico quale l’udito e una serie di qualità di natura cognitiva e morale ad esso collegate. Questo raccordo è illustrato anche nel nostro testo, che sembra comportare un graduale passaggio da qualità di natura fisica a qualità più astratte, o, più precisamente, una sintesi strutturale dei due elementi. Esaminato senza pregiudizi, il frammento mostra che obiettivo di Zenone era quello di rappresentare sotto l’aspetto fisico una serie di qualità positive di specie diverse, onde costruire, mercè il linguaggio verbale, l’immagine visibile, avente forma di statua, del giovane virtuoso, ben disposto verso la filosofia e, per ciò, degno d’amore, perché provvisto di tutti gli attributi, fisici ma anche etici e psicologici, che la dottrina stoica considera come valori. Il testo è evidentemente estratto da un’opera di Zenone. Ciò è provato dal φησί, che introduce la serie di proposizioni esprimenti il pensiero del filosofo, ed è confermato dai tre imperativi ἔστω, 27

28 29 30 31

32

Cfr. D.L. VII 24 (= SVF I 278): “A Cratete che cercava di trarlo via da Stilpone tirandolo per il mantello, Zenone disse: “O Cratete, vi è un mezzo di gran pregio di cui dispongono i filosofi: attaccarsi alle orecchie altrui (λαβὴ φιλοσόφων ἐστὶν ἐπιδέξιος ἡ διὰ τῶν ὤτων). Persuadimi dunque e conducimi via; ma se mi porti via a forza, il corpo sarà da te, l’anima resterà da Stilpone””. Cfr. D.L. VII 23 (= SVF I 310): “A un giovinetto che diceva sciocchezze così replicò: “La ragione per cui abbiamo due orecchie e una sola bocca è che dobbiamo ascoltare di più, parlare di meno””. Cfr. anche D.L. VII 21 (= SVF I 311) e Stob. I 36,19 (= SVF I 310). Cfr. D.L. VII 20 (= SVF I 308), che richiama da vicino anche per il senso complessivo il nostro passo: “L’uditore deve essere tanto preso da ciò che viene detto, da non avere il tempo di prenderne nota”. Cfr. D.L. VII 22 (= SVF I 309), che chiarisce perfettamente il senso del nostro passo: “Diceva (scil. Zenone) anche che non dobbiamo ricordare le parole e le espressioni, ma dobbiamo esercitare la mente a cogliere l’utilità di ciò che ascoltiamo”. Cfr. D.L. VII 26 (= SVF I 235): “… La ragione di questo adattamento dei versi esiodei era nella sua convinzione che colui che sa sentir bene ciò che gli vien detto (τὸν ἀκοῦσαι καλῶς δυνάμενον τὸ λεγόμενον) e sa servirsene è superiore a chi pensa ogni cosa da sé: perché quest’ultimo ha soltanto intelligenza, l’altro obbedendo ai buoni consigli possiede anche la pratica”. Cfr. Schofield, The Stoic Idea, 116 n. 6.

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ἐπανθείτω, ἁπέστω che strutturano il suo discorso: è già stato notato che, se non li avesse trovati nella sua fonte, Clemente non li avrebbe introdotti nella sua relazione, adottando una procedura linguistica così particolare.33 Il segno di uno stile personale è rivelato anche dalla parte finale del frammento, in cui affiora chiaramente, peraltro, la radice cinica dell’immagine del giovinetto schizzata da Zenone. L’esaltazione dell’αἰδώς e dell’ἀρρενωπία da un lato, la censura dei vani ornamenti, dei costumi corrotti e dello stile di vita dei trafficanti d’ogni specie dall’altro, riprendono, e la menzione del lupanare lo conferma, temi caratteristici della tradizione cinica.34 Non è possibile determinare con sicurezza se questo frammento dipenda effettivamente dall’Arte d’amare (Ἐρωτικὴ τέχνη), come suppose Wachsmuth,35 giacché, anche ammettendo che scopo del frammento fosse proprio quello di delineare le qualità del giovane ἀξιέραστος, resta il fatto che simili idee potevano essere espresse da Zenone anche nelle Diatribe,36 in cui egualmente si toccavano temi erotici, o in qualunque opera di contenuto morale, visto lo stretto nesso che nello stoicismo antico v’è tra etica ed erotica. Da quest’ultimo punto di vista, il contenuto concettuale del frammento si riassume nella sintesi di spirito virile e pudore, la quale delinea il perimetro in cui prende corpo quella valorizzazione etica del rapporto omoerotico, che, nella tradizione dello stoicismo antico, ha come obiettivo fondamentale l’acquisizione dell’ἀρετή e il controllo delle passioni.37 Il fondamento teorico dell’operazione svolta da Zenone in questo frammento è dato da una ben precisa tesi, la quale permette di coniugare piano etico e piano estetico. Sappiamo infatti da Diogene Laerzio che, “secondo Zenone, è possibile comprendere il costume morale di un uomo dal suo aspetto”;38 e sappiamo anche che da Zenone questa posizione si trasmette alla scuola stoica nel suo insieme: “affermano gli Stoici che il sapiente si com-

33 34

35 36 37

38

Cfr. Schofield, 116. Per il valore accordato allo spirito virile cf., per Diogene di Sinope, D.L. VI 65 e VI 46 (= SSR V B 403), VI 27 (= SSR V B 280) e VI 59 (= SSR V B 282); per l’esaltazione del pudore cfr. Demetr. De elocut. 261 (= SSR V B 410) e D.L. VI 54 (= SSR V B 399); per la condanna della dissoluzione cfr. D.L. VI 60 (= SSR V B 321) e per la censura degli ornamenti cfr. D.L. VI 54 (= SSR V B 405). Per la pedagogia di Diogene, cf. D.L. VI 30–31, e, su questo testo, R. Höistad, Cynic Hero and Cynic King. Studies in the Cynic Conception of Man, Lund 1948, 119–25. Per i rapporti tra Zenone e l’affabulazione e lo stile di vita cinici, cfr. A. Brancacci, I koinêi areskonta dei Cinici e la koinonia tra cinismo e stoicismo nel libro VI (103–105) delle ‘Vite’ di Diogene Laerzio, in: ANRW, Teil I: Principat, hrsg. von W. Haase, Berlin-New York 1992, 4066–71. Cfr. C. Wachsmuth, Commentationes de Zenone Citiensi et Cleanthe Assio, Gottingae 1874, 6. Cfr. D.L. VII 34. Per la concezione dell’amore dei ragazzi cfr. D.L. VII 129: καὶ ἐρασθήσεσθαι δὲ τὸν σοφὸν τῶν νέων τῶν ἐμφαινόντων διὰ τοῦ εἴδους τὴν πρὸς ἀρετὴν εὐφυίαν, ὥς φησι Ζήνων ἐν τῇ Πολιτείᾳ καὶ Χρύσιππος ἐν τῷ πρώτῳ Περὶ βίων καὶ Ἀπολλόδωρος ἐν τῇ Ἠθικῇ. É importante la successiva precisazione, secondo cui gli Stoici concepiscono l’amore solo nell’ambito dell’amicizia: εἶναι οὖν τὸν ἔρωτα φιλίας, ὡς καὶ Χρύσιππος ἐν τῷ Περὶ ἔρωτός φησι (Id. VII 130). D.L. VII 173 (= SVF I 204). trad. M. Isnardi Parente, in: Stoici antichi, a cura di Margherita Isnardi Parente, Torino 1989, 197.

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prende dal suo stesso aspetto con la semplice sensazione in maniera probante”.39 In questo testo, sono importanti i riferimenti, che possono valere senz’altro anche per Zenone in particolare, alla figura del sapiente (al quale corrisponde, nel frammento in esame, la figura del giovanetto virtuoso), e, più ancora, alla sensazione, come mezzo e funzione attraverso cui si esercita la comprensione: questa tesi fornisce, evidentemente, all’operazione compiuta nel nostro frammento la sua piena giustificazione teorica. L’ideale anti-prassiteleo, già finemente notato nella “statua” di Zenone,40 consente di cogliere anch’esso un tratto culturale importante sotteso al frammento, sotto l’aspetto della sua peculiare cifra estetica. Ma il punto essenziale risiede nel metodo, e nelle intenzioni, di Zenone: tramite una simile procedura, il filosofo mirava a tradurre in termini fisici il concetto stoico di virtù, mentre la “costruzione” della statua implicava a sua volta la conversione in linguaggio verbale di quella stessa rappresentazione figurata. L’intento protreptico, rivelato dagli imperativi, e confermato dalla parte finale del frammento, serve dunque uno scopo del tutto particolare: esso si salda a una metodica ben precisa, che consiste nell’associare a certe parti del corpo una serie di atteggiamenti considerati, a diverso titolo, degni di lode. In quest’ottica, il viso, il sopracciglio, l’occhio, il collo, l’orecchio fungono da sostrato, o meglio ancora da loci (τόποι), nel senso retorico del termine, delle qualità che si intende mettere realmente in valore, e che si desidera imprimere nella mente dell’ascoltatore. Questo rinvio alla memoria potrebbe, d’altra parte, essere più pertinente e significativo di quanto non risulti dalla porzione di frammento conservata da Clemente. Tecniche della memoria, la cui invenzione è ancora una volta attribuita dalla tradizione a Simonide,41 erano certamente praticate, con riferimento al dominio della nascente tradizione retorica, nella Grecia del V secolo.42 Ciò risulta da alcune testimonianze relative al sofista Ippia di Elide, e, soprattutto, da un passo dei Dissoi logoi, nel quale è già enunciata la distinzione, che diventerà poi corrente nella tradizione retorica classica, tra memoria per le parole e memoria per le cose.43 Particolarmente importante, per l’esegesi del frammento di Zenone, è il fatto che già nel passo dei Dissoi logoi sia menzionata la pratica di disporre la parola, o la nozione, che deve essere ricordata, sull’immagine, conforme a un metodo che sarà ripreso costantemente nel corso della storia dell’arte mnemonica nell’antichità.44 Lo stesso Aristotele, che in diversi luoghi della sua opera menziona la tecnica della memoria artificiale, rileva che il solo riferimento ai “luoghi” suscita il ricordo delle cose 39 40 41 42 43 44

Aët. Plac. IV 9, 17 (= Dox. Gr. p. 398 = SVF I 204), trad. M. Isnardi Parente, ivi. Cfr. A. Rouveret, Histoire et imaginaire de la peinture ancienne, (“Bibliothèque des Ecoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome”, 274), Rome 1989, 397 n. 47. Cfr. Cic., De orat., II 86, 351–54 e 357. Una spia dell’importanza riconosciuta alla memoria nell’insegnamento sofistico (e socratico?) è anche in Aristoph. Nub. 483. Per Ippia di Elide cfr. Plat. Hipp. ma. 285 e (= 86 A 11 DK); Hipp. mi. 368 d (= 86 A 12 DK). Per la distinzione tra memoria per le parole (ὀνόματα) e memoria per le cose (πράγματα) cfr. Dissoi logoi. 9, 5–6. Cfr. ad esempio Ad Herenn. III 16–24; Cic. de orat. II 87–88, 355–60; Quint. Inst. orat. XI 2, 17–22.

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stesse,45 e altrove, di nuovo riferendosi ai τόποι dell’arte mnemonica, sottolinea la possibilità di mettere le cose davanti agli occhi (πρὸ ὀμμάτων), come fanno coloro che inventano sistemi di memoria e costruiscono immagini.46 Seguendo questa chiave di lettura, la statua scolpita da Zenone nel fr. 246 potrebbe essere considerata come la prima forma, elaborata non a caso nell’ambito della filosofia stoica, di quelle imagines agentes, di cui si parlerà nella tradizione retorica posteriore: ove tali “immagini efficaci” sono raccomandate appunto per fissare nella memoria, grazie alla loro eccezionale bellezza, o a qualsivoglia altro carattere di particolare intensità, delle qualità determinate.47 Da questo punto di vista, non è azzardato scorgere nell’εἰκὼν νεανίου di Zenone la rappresentazione che, di un complesso di virtù, o, forse, di una virtù determinata, la temperanza (σωφροσύνη) ad esempio, poteva essere resa nel dominio della memoria artificiale, grazie a una enumerazione puntuale dei diversi luoghi fisici ai quali quella virtù poteva essere associata o – in una interpretazione più forte – che quella virtù esprimono. Ma tutto ciò convergeva in un’immagine precisa, caratterizzata anche dai sui attributi propriamente fisici e dalla sua bellezza, quella del giovinetto virtuoso, ben disposto verso la filosofia. Questo interesse è confermato da due frammenti, l’uno di Cleante, l’altro di Crisippo, i quali si iscrivono entrambi nella tradizione di pittura verbale inaugurata da Zenone. Da Cicerone sappiamo che Cleante – e qui il rinvio è certamente all’attività didattica svolta dal filosofo – soleva dipingere, mercè la parola, e quindi negli stessi termini di quanto per Zenone risulta dal fr. 246, un quadro, nel quale era rappresentato il Piacere circondato dalle Virtù. In questo caso però la pittura verbale aveva funzione non protreptica e suasiva, ma apoprotreptica e polemica: Proverai un senso di vergogna di fronte a quel quadro che Cleante soleva dipingere ampiamente a parole. Egli invitava i suoi ascoltatori a immaginarsi un quadro in cui fosse dipinto il Piacere, con vesti bellissime e ornamenti regali, seduto in trono; accanto a lui, le Virtù come modeste ancelle, non ad altro dedite sé altra funzione credendo loro propria se non quella di servire il Piacere, limitandosi ad ammonirlo – ammesso che ciò possa esser rappresentato in un quadro – col sussurrargli all’orecchio di esser prudente e nulla fare che potesse offendere l’animo degli uomini o che potesse successivamente dar luogo a dolore: “Noi Virtù siamo nate a servirti: non abbiamo alcun altro compito”. Pudebit te illius tabulae, quam Cleanthes sane commode verbis depingere solebat. iubebat eos, qui audiebant, secum ipsos cogitare pictam in tabula Voluptatem, pulcherrimo vestitu et ornatu regali in solio sedentem; praesto esse Virtutes ut ancillulas, quae nihil aliud agerent, nullum suum officium ducerent, nisi ut Voluptati ministrarent et eam tantum ad aurem admonerent, si modo id pictura intellegi posset, ut caveret, ne quid faceret imprudens, quod offenderet animos hominum, aut quicquam, e quo oreretur aliquis dolor. “nos quidem Virtutes sic natae sumus, ut tibi serviremus; aliud negotii nihil habemus”.48

Il passo di Cleante, che proviene forse dal suo scritto Sul piacere, esprime molto probabilmente polemica antiepicurea,49 e questa ipotesi è confermata dalla versione 45 46 47 48 49

Cfr. Aristot. Top., VIII 14, 163 b 24–30. Cfr. Aristot. De an., 427 b 18–22. Cfr. Ad Herenn., III 22, e, su questo testo, F. Yates, L’arte della memoria, tr. it. Torino 1972, 10–17. Cic. De fin. II 21, 69 (= SVF I 553), trad. M. Isnardi Parente. Come nota Isnardi Parente, Stoici antichi, 253 n. 102.

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più lunga del frammento riportata da Agostino,50 nella quale l’intento polemico del dipinto nei confronti di filosofi sostenitori del piacere è esplicitamente rilevato, e nella fine del testo compare un espresso riferimento agli Epicurei. L’ipotesi del Festa,51 secondo cui il brano di Cleante tradirebbe piuttosto polemica contro lo Stoico eterodosso Dionisio l’Eracleota detto il “transfuga” non è incompatibile con questa, perché Cleante poteva ben mirare a colpire insieme, con la stessa rappresentazione, due avversari, l’uno esterno, e indirettamente anche l’altro interno alla scuola. Se questa lettura del frammento è corretta, può ben dirsi che questo quadro rappresenta, in termini filosofici, e più precisamente etici, l’Epicureismo, la sua essenza morale. L’immagine del Piacere è un’immagine di donna, semplicemente perché in greco piacere si dice ἡδονή, sostantivo del genere femminile, come del resto anche ἀρετή: è tutto un mondo femminile quello che ci è posto di fronte agli occhi in questa ekphrasis, dove anche il polo positivo delle Virtù, presentate come ancelle del Piacere, ha lo scopo di mostrare il pervertimento, la perdita di valore, la sottile corruzione implicite in virtù asservite a un improprio padrone; il che fa bene risaltare la funzione polemica, fondamentalmente antiepicurea, cui si accennava. In questa singolare descrizione in parole di una immagine pittorica, non si mancherà peraltro di cogliere il riferimento esplicito che Cleante faceva alla sfera psicologica, posto che, come riferisce Cicerone, il filosofo invitava i suoi uditori a rappresentarsi essi stessi (secum ipsos cogitare) l’immagine che egli andava dipingendo con l’aiuto delle parole. Questo significa che l’immagine va introiettata, fatta propria, rivissuta e delibata, insieme con le parole che la esprimono e la portano a concettualizzazione, nella sfera della propria anima, in modo da agire e imprimersi in essa. Crisippo, a sua volta, aveva dipinto nei libri Sulla bellezza e sul piacere (Περὶ καλοῦ καὶ ἡδονῆς) gli occhi e il volto della Giustizia, ricordando i caratteri che pittori ed oratori antichi le avevano abitualmente conferito, e avvertendo esplicitamente come simili immagini dovessero essere intese allegoricamente, secondo 50

51

Cfr. August. De civitate Dei V 20 (= SVF I 553): “Quei filosofi che ripongono il fine di ogni bene per gli uomini nella virtù, per muovere a vergogna certi altri filosofi che, pur approvando le virtù, le commisurano al fine del piacere fisico, e ritengono che questo sia da ricercarsi di per sé stesso, e le virtù in ordine ad esso, son soliti dipingere quasi un quadro a parole, in cui il Piacere sieda in un trono regale, come un raffinato signore, le Virtù gli stiano intorno sottomesse come ancelle, attente al suo gesto, per compiere ciò ch’egli comandi; ed egli comanda alla prudenza di vigilare attentamente al dominio e alla salvezza del Piacere; alla giustizia, di distribuire quei benefici che servano a procurarsi amicizie necessarie ai beni del corpo; e di non fare ad alcuno torto, per pericolo che, una volta lese le leggi, il Piacere non possa più vivere in sicurezza; alla fortezza, che, se sopravverrà al corpo un qualche dolore, non tale tuttavia da provocare la morte, essa trattenga il suo signore, il Piacere, saldamente ancorato al pensiero, sì da mitigare le trafitte del dolore presente con il ricordo delle antiche delizie; alla temperanza, che prenda cibo solo con moderazione e per puro gusto, badando bene che per smoderatezza non sopravvenga qualche disturbo a danneggiare la salute, recando così detrimento a quel piacere che anche gli Epicurei pongono in stretto rapporto con la salute fisica. Così le Virtù, con tutta la gloria della loro dignità, servono il piacere come un padrone arbitrario e indecoroso. Essi dicono che nulla è più vergognoso e turpe di questo quadro, e più lontano da ciò che possa tollerare l’apparenza del bene: e dicono il vero” (trad. M. Isnardi Parente, corsivi miei). Cfr. N. Festa, I frammenti degli Stoici antichi, II: Cleante, Bari 1932, 93

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un metodo, da lui stesso adottato, che faceva corrispondere a ciascun tratto o effetto pittorico un significato filosofico determinato: Con perfetta bravura e da vero artista Crisippo, nel primo dei libri intitolati Su il bello e il piacere, ha raffigurato il volto e gli occhi della Giustizia, la sua fisionomia, mediante austeri e solenni colori verbali. Egli ritrae l’immagine della giustizia osservando che pittori e retori antichi la ritraggono di solito press’a poco così: “forma e figura virginale, aspetto fiero e temibile, un lampo aguzzo negli occhi, e quella dignità che procede da una sorta di veneranda severità, lontana sia dalla modestia sia dalla superbia”. Con questa allegoria egli voleva far capire che il giudice, sacerdote della Giustizia, dev’essere austero, santo, severo, incorrotto, inadulabile, spietato e inesorabile con malvagi e delinquenti, solenne, imponente, potente, terribile per la forza e la grandezza dell’equità, e della verità. Trascrivo qui le testuali parole di Crisippo sulla Giustizia: “È presentata come una vergine, per simbolo della sua incorruttibilità e del suo negarsi ai malfattori, del suo non ammettere né discorsi speciosi né suppliche e istanze né adulazioni né altro del genere; di conseguenza, è anche raffigurata seria e col volto cupo e teso, lo sguardo scintillante, così da ispirare terrore agl’ingiusti, coraggio ai giusti: a questi il suo volto è benigno, a quelli è ostile”. Condigne mehercule et condecore Chrysippus in librorum, qui inscribuntur περὶ καλοῦ καὶ ἡδονῆς, primo, os et oculos iustitiae vultumque eius severis atque venerandis verborum coloribus depinxit. facit quippe imaginem Iustitiae fierique solitam esse dicit a pictoribus rhetoribusque antiquioribus ad hunc ferme modum: forma atque filo virginali, aspectu vehementi et formidabili, luminibus oculorum acribus, neque humilis neque atrocis, sed reverendae cuiusdam tristitiae dignitate. Ex imaginis autem istius significatione intellegi voluit iudicem, qui Iustitiae antistes est, oportere esse gravem, sanctum, severum, incorruptum, inadulabilem contraque improbos nocentesque immisericordem atque inexorabilem erectumque et arduum ac potentem, vi et maiestate aequitatis veritatisque terrificum. verba ipsa Chrysippi de Iustitia scripta haec sunt: παρθένος δὲ λέγεται κατὰ σύμβολον τοῦ ἀδιάφθορος εἶναι καὶ μηδαμῶς ἐνδιδόναι τοῖς κακούργοις, μηδὲ προσίεσθαι μήτε τοὺς ἐπιεικεῖς λόγους μήτε παραίτησιν καὶ δέησιν μήτε κολακείαν μήτε ἄλλο τῶν τοιούτων· οἷς ἀκολούθως καὶ σκυθρωπὴ γράφεται καὶ συνεστηκὸς ἔχουσα τὸ πρόσωπον καὶ ἔντονον καὶ δεδορκὸς βλέπουσα, ὥστε τοῖς μὲν ἀδίκοις φόβον ἐμποιεῖν, τοῖς δὲ δικαίοις θάρσος· τοῖς μὲν προσφιλοῦς ὄντος τοῦ τοιούτου προσώπου, τοῖς δὲ ἑτέροις προσάντους […].52

Come si vede, il metodo che è alla base di queste interpretazioni non era diverso da quello che regolava le esegesi poetiche, e omeriche in particolare, cui gli Stoici, già a partire da Zenone, dettero grande impulso. Con Crisippo torniamo a una immagine positiva, anzi veneranda, quella della giustizia, una delle quattro virtù fondamentali del sistema stoico, rappresentata in aspetto muliebre per le stesse ragioni di trapasso dal genere grammaticale al gender, riconfermandosi anche a questo livello il nesso inscindibile tra parola e immagine proprio dell’ekphrasis. Va notato inoltre che la descrizione dell’“aria” (πρόσωπον), intesa come termine tecnico pittorico, indicante l’espressione, o meglio il “carattere” (ἦθος), che traspare dai tratti caratteristici del volto, risente visibilmente dell’analisi che al tema dello sguardo (ὄμμα) aveva dedicato il Socrate senofonteo nel dialogo sulla pittura e sulla scultura riportato nei Memorabili (cfr. supra n. 10): e anche in questo quadro l’occhio ha un ruolo estetico, o per meglio dire etico-estetico, importante. In particolare, per

52

Aul. Gell. Noct. Att., XIV 4, 4 (= SVF III, Appendix II, 198), trad. Bernardi-Perini in: Le notti Attiche di Aulo Gellio, a cura di G. Bernardi-Perini, Vol. II, Torino 1992, 1053.

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il termine σκυθρωπός, che ricorre in entrambi i testi, è da ricordare Xen. Mem. III 10, 4. Ora, il carattere specifico delle statue e dei quadri parlanti degli Stoici era evidentemente quello di rappresentare una nozione nella sua totalità e generalità, grazie al potere sintetico dell’immagine, e nello stesso tempo di ripartire e precisare le parti di questa stessa nozione, grazie al potere analitico del linguaggio verbale. Quanto importante sia la prima procedura è mostrato dall’immagine del giovane teso all’ascolto del logos, che rappresenta materialmente una serie di concetti propri del sistema stoico, sintetizzabili nell’aspirazione della materia, dell’uomo, di ogni singolo elemento della realtà, a integrarsi nella ragione individuale e cosmica. Il complemento, ma anche il risvolto, di questa peculiare procedura è rappresentato dall’altra grande tradizione che, per quanto riguarda le sue ascendenze propriamente filosofiche, vien fatta generalmente risalire agli Stoici: quella del vero e proprio commento di quadri, quadri esistenti e già dipinti, che il filosofo illustra mettendo in luce il loro significato riposto. Basti a questo riguardo ricordare la testimonianza di Origene, secondo la quale Crisippo interpretò allegoricamente un quadro di Samo in cui Hera era rappresentata nell’atto di compiere una fellatio sulla persona di Zeus. La spiegazione offerta di quello che Origine considerava un atto innominabile, spiegazione perfettamente indicativa dello stile stoico, e crisippeo in particolare, era che Hera, rappresentante la materia, accoglie le ragioni seminali di Dio, rappresentato da Zeus, la quale ha ricevuto ai fini dell’organizzazione dell’universo. Dice (= Crisippo) nei suoi scritti, quell’illustre filosofo, che la materia accogliendo le ragioni seminali della divinità li riceve in sé ad ordinamento del tutto: nella pittura di Samo, Era simboleggia la materia e Zeus la divinità. λέγει γὰρ ἐν τοῖς ἑαυτοῦ συγγράμμασιν ὁ σεμνὸς φιλόσοφος (sc. Chrysippus) ὅτι τοὺς σπερματικοὺς λόγους τοῦ θεοῦ ἡ ὕλη παραδεξαμένη ἔχει ἐν ἑαυτῇ εἰς κατακόσμησιν τῶν ὅλων· ὕλη γὰρ ἡ ἐν τῇ κατὰ τὴν Σάμον γραφῇ ἡ Ἥρα καὶ ὁ θεὸς ὁ Ζεύς.53

Nel catalogo delle opere di Crisippo conservato da Diogene Laerzio è registrato uno scritto Πρὸς τὰς ἀναζωγραφήσεις πρὸς Τιμώνακτα, il cui titolo, prezioso per la singolare tesi che vi è espressa, lascia intravvedere come i pronunciamenti anche tecnici di Crisippo sul restauro dei quadri antichi fossero informati da motivazioni filosofiche: esso dimostra, inoltre, come l’interesse degli Stoici per i dipinti potesse giungere fino alla redazione di un trattato specifico.54. Conviene tuttavia osservare che la tradizione del commento letterario di quadri non ha inizio, proprio per quanto riguarda la sua legittimazione filosofica, con gli Stoici, come abitualmente si crede: alcune testimonianze in nostro possesso consentono di ricostruirne almeno in parte la storia e di ritrovarne le origini nel V secolo. Un passo dello Ione di Platone, la cui importanza è finora sfuggita, mostra, innanzitutto, che essa affonda le sue radici in quella tradizione non scritta della filosofia che, nell’antichità, si sviluppò e visse sempre parallelamente alla formulazione letteraria di determinati temi e problemi 53 54

Cfr. Orig. Contr. Cels. IV 48, I p. 321, 3 Kö. (= p. 540 Delarue) (= SVF II 1074), trad. M. Isnardi Parente. Cfr. D.L. VII 201.

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teorici. Per dimostrare che l’abilità del rapsodo suo interlocutore è frutto di una ispirazione irrazionale, Socrate insiste sul fatto che Ione è capace di commentare correttamente Omero, ma non ogni poeta, come dovrebbe essere se egli fosse realmente in possesso di un’arte (τέχνη).55 Questa, infatti, è la regola nel dominio della critica della pittura, della statuaria, della musica, che, secondo quanto risulta da questo passo, si esercitavano nella sfera dell’oralità.56 La porzione di testo che ci interessa, e che per il suo rilievo storico merita di essere segnalata, è quella in cui Socrate, con scrupolosa precisione nella menzione degli artisti ch’egli assume come esempio, nel campo della pittura e in quello della scultura, osserva: Hai già conosciuto qualcuno che sia capace di indicare tra le opere di Polignoto, figlio di Aglaofonte, quelle che ha dipinto bene e quelle che non ha dipinto bene e sia incapace di farlo per gli altri pittori? E che quando uno gli mostri le opere degli altri pittori, sonnecchi, sia in difficoltà e non sappia dare un contributo, mentre quando debba manifestare il proprio parere su Polignoto o su qualsiasi altro pittore, purché sia quell’unico pittore, sia sveglio, stia attento e abbia facilità di parlare? […] E nella scultura hai già conosciuto qualcuno che, tra le opere di Dedalo, figlio di Meione, o di Epeo, figlio di Panopeo, o di Teodoro di Samo o di qualche altro scultore, purché sia uno solo, sia capace di indicare quelle ben fatte, mentre davanti alle opere degli altri scultori sia impacciato e sonnecchi, non sapendo cosa dire? ἤδη οὖν τινα εἶδες ὅστις περὶ μὲν Πολυγνώτου τοῦ ̓Αγλαοφῶντος δεινός ἐστιν ἀποφαίνειν ἃ εὖ τε γράφει καὶ ἃ μή, περὶ δὲ τῶν ἄλλων γραφέων ἀδύνατος; καὶ ἐπειδὰν μέν τις τὰ τῶν ἄλλων ζωγράφων ἔργα ἐπιδεικνύῃ, νυστάζει τε καὶ ἀπορεῖ καὶ οὐκ ἔχει ὅ τι συμβάληται, ἐπειδὰν δὲ περὶ Πολυγνώτου ἢ ἄλλου ὅτου βούλει τῶν γραφέων ἑνὸς μόνου δέῃ ἀποφήνασθαι γνώμην, ἐγρήγορέν τε καὶ προσέχει τὸν νοῦν καὶ εὐπορεῖ ὅ τι εἴπῃ; […] Τί δέ; ἐν ἀνδριαντοποιίᾳ ἤδη τιν ̓ εἶδες ὅστις περὶ μὲν Δαιδάλου τοῦ Μητίονος ἢ ̓Επειοῦ τοῦ Πανοπέως ἢ Θεοδώρου τοῦ Σαμίου ἢ ἄλλου τινὸς ἀνδριαντοποιοῦ ἑνὸς πέρι δεινός ἐστιν ἐξηγεῖσθαι ἃ εὖ πεποίηκεν, ἐν δὲ τοῖς τῶν ἄλλων ἀνδριαντοποιῶν ἔργοις ἀπορεῖ τε καὶ νυστάζει, οὐκ ἔχων ὅ τι εἴπῃ;57

Da questa testimonianza emerge che l’esegesi di quadri e statue, intesa in termini non dissimili dalle forme della critica letteraria contemporanea era diffusa nell’età della sofistica: si noti, nel passo appena citato, l’uso del termine ἐξηγεῖσθαι di 533 b 3, e inoltre, sul piano terminologico, ma anche su quello del contenuto, l’uso delle espressioni ἃ εὖ γράφει καὶ ἃ μή (riferito alle opere del pittore) e ἃ εὖ πεποίηκεν (riferito alle opere dello scultore) per designare l’alternativa critica la quale struttura l’intervento dell’interprete.58 Analoghe formule sono impiegate nell’Apologia per indicare l’intervento critico sulle opere letterarie, che Socrate richiederebbe ai poeti per attribuire loro la qualifica di σοφοί. Al pari dell’esegesi di opere letterarie e musicali, essa si esprimeva nei modi di quella conversazione, dotta e brillante, che caratterizza la nuova cultura che emerge nell’età di Pericle, e il cui riflesso è dato cogliere nelle pagine di Platone e Senofonte.59 E questo significa che non è impos55 56 57 58 59

Cfr. Plat. Ion. 533 d-534 d; 536 c-d. Cfr. ibid., 532 c-533 c. ibid. 532 e7–533 b4. Cfr. Plat. Protag. 339 a. Su questo passo, cfr. Brancacci, La critica letteraria di Protagora, in: ODOI DIZHSIOS. Le vie della ricerca, Studi in onore di Francesco Adorno, a cura di M. S. Funghi, Firenze 1996, 109–19. Per l’applicazione di simili discussioni all’ambito dell’arte figurativa cfr. l’osservazione di B.

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sibile che già in quest’epoca siano stati effettuati tentativi per riprodurre, mercè lo strumento letterario, quadri che per la loro eccellenza si erano imposti all’attenzione del pubblico colto. Ma, al di là di questa ipotesi, siamo lieti di poter segnalare un testo che consente di determinare con precisione l’ambiente e il periodo in cui la traduzione della pittura in un’opera letteraria fu per la prima volta tentata. Si tratta dell’Eracle di Antistene, la cui redazione è verosimilmente da situare nel primo decennio del IV secolo.60 Da un frammento conservato in uno gnomologio risulta che lo spunto per il discorso su Eracle fu offerto ad Antistene da un quadro in cui Achille era rappresentato al servizio del mitico centauro, educatore di giovani ed eroi, Chirone. Questa rappresentazione fu interpretata dal Socratico nel senso che l’acquisizione della παιδεία implica l’accettazione di quell’arduo servizio presso una bestia selvaggia, e quindi – questo credo sia il senso dell’affermazione – una forma di ascolto e considerazione della θηριότης che è in noi. Il testo, come quello dello Ione anch’esso poco noto, è il seguente: Antistene, avendo visto in un quadro l’immagine dipinta di Achille al servizio del centauro Chirone, esclamò: “Bravo, o giovane, che in nome della paideia non hai esitato a porti al servizio anche di una bestia selvaggia!” ὁ αὐτὸς (sc. ̓Αντισθένης) θεασάμενος ἐν πίνακι γεγραμμένον τὸν ̓Αχιλλέα Χείρωνι τῷ Κενταύρῳ διακονούμενον, “εὖ γε, ὧ παιδίον, εἶπεν, ὅτι παιδείας ἕνεκεν καὶ θηρίῳ διακονεῖν ὑπέμεινας”.61

Le connessioni tra pittori e sofisti nella seconda metà del V secolo sono state non di rado, sebbene rapsodicamente, rilevate dalla critica.62. Un passo del Simposio senofonteo è ancora più preciso dei testi finora noti nell’attestare i rapporti del socratico

60

61

62

Schweitzer, Xenokrates von Athen. Beiträge zur Geschichte der antiken Kunstforschung und Kunstanschauung, Halle 1932, 9. L’uso della discussione orale come mezzo per esercitare la critica letteraria è documentata, oltre che dai già citati passi dello Ione relativi alle arti figurative e plastiche (e alla musica: cfr. Plat. Ion. 533 b7–c3), da un importante passo dell’Apologia platonica, in cui Socrate, dopo aver rilevato l’insoddisfacente prova offerta dai poeti circa l’interpretazione delle loro opere, osserva: ὡς ἔπος γὰρ εἰπεῖν, ὀλίγου αὐτῶν ἅπαντες οἱ παρόντες ἂν βέλτιον ἔλεγον περὶ ὧν αὐτοὶ ἐπεποιήκεσαν. Si ricordino infine le osservazioni di G. Colli, La nascita della filosofia, Milano 1999, 100. Sull’Eracle di Antistene cfr. H. Dittmar, Aischines von Sphettos, Studien zur Literaturgeschichte der Sokratiker, Berlin 1912, 16 e 300–04; F. Decleva Caizzi, Antisthenis fragmenta, Milano-Varese 1966, 94–97; G. Giannantoni, Socratis et Socraticorum reliquiae, vol. IV, Napoli 1990, 309–17; J. Mansfeld, Diogenes Laertius on Stoic Philosophy, Elenchos 7, 1986, 339–40; Brancacci, I koine areskonta, 4066–68. Gnom. Vat. 743 n. 11 (= SSR V A 95). Per l’interpretazione di questo frammento, e di altri testi antistenici connessi, cfr. Brancacci, Le modèle animal chez Antisthène, in: L’Animal dans l’Antiquité, édité par B. Cassin et J.-L. Labarrière, sous la direction de G. Romeyer Dherbey, Paris 1997, 207–25: 221–23. Ricordo anche che nella lista degli scritti di Cebete è registrato uno scritto intitolato Πίναξ: cfr. D.L. II 125. Si tratta della Tavola di Cebete, scritto appartenente alla prima età imperiale, che si è intrufolato negli scritti del filosofo pitagorico amico di Socrate, ritenutone autore, o di un precedente dello scritto che ci è pervenuto? Impossibile rispondere. Cfr. P.-M. Schuhl, Platon et l’art de son temps, Paris 1933, 22–23; G. Romeyer Dherbey, prefazione a M. Untersteiner, Les Sophistes, tr. fr. par A. Tordesillas, Paris 1993, i-ix; Rouveret, 31–39.

25 Le Ekphraseis di Zenone, Cleante e Crisippo

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Antistene con uno dei maggiori esponenti della nuova generazione di pittori, celebre per la novità e le particolarità delle sue tecniche compositive, e famoso ad Atene negli ultimi decenni del secolo. Si tratta di Zeusi, i meriti del quale Antistene esaltò con tanta convinzione e insistenza presso Socrate, da porre il pittore di Eraclea in stretta relazione con il maestro, e da favorire l’instaurarsi di un rapporto d’amicizia tra i due: Così, non molto tempo fa, esaltandomi con grande enfasi lo straniero di Eraclea, dopo avermene insinuato il desiderio, me lo presentasti: e io te ne rendo grazie ché mi sembra davvero bello e buono. ἔναγχος δὲ δήπου καὶ πρὸς ἐμὲ ἐπαινῶν τὸν ̔Ηρακλεώτην ξένον ἐπεί με ἐποίησας ἐπιθυμεῖν αὐτοῦ συνέστησάς μοι αὐτόν. καὶ χάριν μέντοι σοι ἔχω· πάνυ γὰρ καλὸς κἀγαθὸς δοκεῖ μοι εἶναι.63

L’Eracle, da cui furono tratti i placita comuni a Cinici e Stoici passati alla dossografia, esponeva la concezione antistenica della virtù, del saggio, dei suoi rapporti con i giovani, dell’ἔρως, e la sua conoscenza da parte degli Stoici, in particolare dei rappresentanti dello stoicismo antico, può essere considerata certa. Esiste dunque una continuità tra Antistene e Zenone anche in quest’ambito, oltre e in aggiunta ai tre campi dell’esegesi poetica da un lato, dell’etica dall’altro, e infine della logica, nei quali il debito dello stoicismo antico rispetto al socratismo antistenico si rivela a chiare lettere.64 Riceve con ciò ulteriore conferma la tradizione antica che considerò Antistene archegeta non solo del cinismo, ma anche dell’ala “massimamente virile” dello stoicismo.65 L’operazione compiuta da Antistene nell’Eracle fu del tutto originale e isolata, in quel torno di anni, o è possibile ipotizzare che essa ebbe un seguito? Nulla consente di rispondere con una qualche presunzione di verosimiglianza a tale quesito. E tuttavia, benché sia solo un’ipotesi, saremmo inclini a considerare non del tutto azzardata, proprio sulla base del precedente antistenico, quella secondo cui la dettagliata descrizione dell’immagine dell’anima offerta da Platone nel IX libro della Repubblica, rappresentata come un mostro dalle molteplici teste e forme, riprenderebbe i caratteri del celebre quadro in cui Parrasio aveva, con pennello impietoso, ritratto il popolo di Atene.66 Peraltro, e come sia di ciò, non è certamente l’estetica platonica quella che poteva fornire alla prassi dell’ekphrasis, o ai primi inizi di tale prassi, una giustificazione o un quadro di riferimento teorico d’ordine estetico. Basti pensare alla severa condanna della pittura, in quanto arte mimetica, esposta nel X libro della Repubblica, ove è proprio l’assunzione della pittura come modello 63 64

65 66

Xenoph. Symp. IV 63, 1–4. Per il rapporto stabilito dalle fonti antiche tra le esegesi omeriche di Antistene e quelle di Zenone cfr. Dio Chrysost., LIII 4–5 (= SSR V A 194 = SVF I 274), e, su questo passo, Brancacci, Oikeios logos. La filosofia del linguaggio di Antistene, Napoli 1990, 64–67. Per la logica cfr. Id., Antisthène et le stoïcisme: la logique, in: Les Stoïciens, sous la direction de G. Romeyer-Dherbey, Paris 2004, 1–19. Per Antistene fondatore dell’ala ἀνδρωδεστάτη dello stoicismo cfr. D.L. VI 14 (= SSR V A 22). Cfr. M. Cagiano de Azavedo, s.v. Parrasio, in Enciclopedia dell’arte antica, vol. V, Roma 1963, 963–65. Sui caratteri del dipinto di Parrasio cfr. Plin. Hist. nat. 35, 69.

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chiaro ed emblematico di arte mimetica che determina quella curvatura più nettamente critica e anzi di condanna che è propria della trattazione del X libro rispetto a quella svolta nel II e III libro del medesimo dialogo.67 Anche questo dato, unitamente a tutti gli altri fin qui individuati, ci aiuta a comprendere la novità e la corretta prospettiva della posizione inaugurata dagli Stoici in età ellenistica, di cui Zenone è per noi il primo rappresentante, al quale Cleante e Crisippo si aggiungeranno. BIBLIOGRAFIA Arias P. E., Policleto, Milano 1964 Aronadio F., I fondamenti della riflessione di Platone sul linguaggio: il Cratilo, Roma 2011 Bernardi-Perini G., Le notti Attiche di Aulo Gellio, Vol. II, Torino 1992 Bianchi Bandinelli R., Policleto, Firenze 1938 Bianchi Bandinelli R., Storicità dell’arte classica, Bari 1973, 3a ed. Bianco M. G., Il Protrettico e Il Pedagogo di Clemente Alessandrino, Torino 1971 Bowra C. M., Greek Lyric Poetry from Alcman to Simonides, Oxford 19612, tr. it. La poesia lirica greca da Alcmane a Simonide, Firenze 1973 Brancacci A., Les mots et les choses: la philosophie du language chez Démocrite, in AA.VV., Philosophie du language et grammaire dans l’antiquité, Bruxelles-Grenoble 1986, 9–28 Brancacci A., Oikeios logos. La filosofia del linguaggio di Antistene, Napoli 1990 Brancacci A., I koinêi areskonta dei Cinici e la koinonia tra cinismo e stoicismo nel libro VI (103– 105) delle ‘Vite’ di Diogene Laerzio, in: ANRW, Teil I: Principat, hrsg. von W. Haase, Berlin-New York 1992, 4066–4071 Brancacci A., Ethos e pathos nella teoria delle arti: una poetica socratica della pittura e della scultura, in: Elenchos 16, 1995, 101–127 Brancacci A., La critica letteraria di Protagora, in: ΟΔΟΙ ΔΙΖΗΣΙΟΣ. Le vie della ricerca, Studi in onore di Francesco Adorno, a cura di M.S. Funghi, Firenze 1996, 109–119 Brancacci A., Socrate critico d’arte, in: G. Giannantoni e M. Narcy (a cura di), Lezioni Socratiche, Napoli 1997, 121–151 Brancacci A., Le modèle animal chez Antisthène, in: L’Animal dans l’Antiquité, édité par B. Cassin et J.-L. Labarrière, sous la direction de G. Romeyer Dherbey, Paris 1997, 207–225 Brancacci A., Antisthène et le stoïcisme: la logique, in: Les Stoïciens, sous la direction de G. Romeyer-Dherbey, Paris 2004, 1–19 Brancacci A., Musica, mimesis e paideia nella Repubblica di Platone, in: Giornale Critico della Filosofia Italiana 89 (91), 2010, 48–71 Brancacci, Mimesis, poésie et musique, in: Lectures de Platon, sous la direction de A. Castel-Bouchouchi, M. Dixsaut, G. Kévorkian, Paris 2013, 201–214 Cagiano de Azavedo M., s.v. Parrasio, in: Enciclopedia dell’arte antica, vol. V, Roma 1963, 963–965 Cambiano G., Dialoghi filosofici di Platone, Volume primo, Torino 1987 Colli G., La nascita della filosofia, Milano 1999 de Romilly J., Gorgias et le pouvoir de la poésie, in: Journal of Hellenic Studies, 93, 1973, 155–162 Decleva Caizzi F., Antisthenis fragmenta, Milano-Varese 1966 Detienne M., Les maîtres de vérité dans la Grèce ancienne, Paris 1967, tr. it. I maestri di verità nella Grecia arcaica, Bari 1977 Dittmar H., Aischines von Sphettos, Studien zur Literaturgeschichte der Sokratiker, Berlin 1912 Festa N., I frammenti degli Stoici antichi, II: Cleante, Bari 1932 Friedländer P., Johannes von Gaza und Paulus Silentiarius, Leipzig 1912 67

Su ciò cfr. Brancacci, Mimesis, poésie et musique, in: Lectures de Platon, sous la direction de A. Castel-Bouchouchi, M. Dixsaut, G. Kévorkian, Paris 2013, 201–14.

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Gentili B., Poesia e pubblico nella Grecia antica, Roma-Bari 1989 Giannantoni G., Socratis et Socraticorum reliquiae, vol. IV, Napoli 1990 Höistad R., Cynic Hero and Cynic King. Studies in the Cynic Conception of Man, Lund 1948, 119–125 Imbert C., Théorie de la représentation et doctrine logique dans le stoïcisme ancien, in AA.VV., Les Stoïciens et leur logique, Actes du Colloque de Chantilly (18–22 septembre 1976), Paris 1978, 241–244 Ioppolo A. M., Aristone di Chio e lo stoicismo antico, Napoli 1980 Irmer C., Stoic Logic and Alexandrian Poetics, in: M. Schofield, M. Burnyeat, J. Barnes (eds), Doubt and Dogmatism. Studies in Hellenistic Epistemology, Oxford 1980, 182–216 Isnardi Parente M., Stoici antichi, Torino 1989 Kerényi K., Agalma, eikon, eidolon in: Archivio di filosofia, 1, 1962, 161–171 Kraus W., Die Auffassung des Dichterberufes im frühen Griechentum, in: Wiener Studien 68, 1955, 65–87 Lanata G., Poetica pre-platonica. Testimonianze e frammenti, Firenze 1963 Lissarrague F., Philostrate. La galerie des tableaux, Paris 1991 Maffei S., Luciano di Samosata. Descrizioni di opere d’arte, a cura di S. Maffei, Torino 1994 Mansfeld J., Diogenes Laertius on Stoic Philosophy, Elenchos 7, 1986, 295–382 Marzullo B., I sofismi di Prometeo, Firenze 1993 Mesturini A. M., Aristotele, Poetica 17 e Retorica III 10–11, in: Sandalion 16–17, 1993–1994, 59–62 Mondésert C.-Matray C., Clément d’Alexandrie. Le pédagogue, Livre III, Paris 1970 Overbeck J., Die antiken Schriftquellen zur Geschichte der bildenden Künste bei den Griechen, Leipzig 1868, Hildesheim-New York 1971 Picard C., Manuel d’archéologie grecque. La sculpture, vol. II, Paris 1939 Plebe A., Recenti interpretazioni del concetto greco di mimesi, in: Dioniso, 20, 1957, 99–105 Rodrigo P., La métaphore. L’euphorie de la langue, nel suo volume Aristote, l’eidétique et la phénoménologie, Grenoble 1995 A. Rouveret, Histoire et imaginaire de la peinture ancienne, (“Bibliothèque des Ecoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome”, 274), Rome 1989 Schofield M., Aristotle on the Imagination, in Aristotle on Mind and the Senses, ed. G. E. R. Lloyd and G. E. L. Owen, Cambridge 1978, 99–140 Schofield M., The Stoic Idea of the City, Cambridge 1991 Schuhl P.-M., Platon et l’art de son temps, Paris 1933 Schweitzer B., Xenokrates von Athen. Beiträge zur Geschichte der antiken Kunstforschung und Kunstanschauung, Halle 1932 Schweitzer B., Mimesis und Phantasia. Zur antiken Kunsttheorie, in: Philologus 89, 1934, 286–300 Segal Ch., Gorgias and the Psychology of the logos, in: Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, 66, 1962, 99–115 Stählin O., Clemens Alexandrinus. Protrepticus und Paedagogus, hrsg. von O. Stählin, Dritte, durchgesehene Auflage von U. Treu, Berlin 1972 Stavru A., Senofonte: l’espressione di ethos e pathos, in: Il potere dell’apparenza. Percorso storico-critico nell’estetica antica, Napoli 2011, 131–167 Svembro J., La parole et le marbre, Lund 1976, tr. it. La parola e il marmo: alle origini della poetica greca, Torino 1984 Thioler J.C, Plutarque. De Gloria Atheniensium, Paris 1985 Untersteiner U., Les Sophistes, tr. fr. par A. Tordesillas, Paris 1993 Veloso C. W.-Puente F. R., Note sur la bibliographie récente (2000–2005) sur le De memoria d’Aristote, in: Méthexis 18, 2005, 97–118 Wachsmuth C., Commentationes de Zenone Citiensi et Cleanthe Assio, Gottingae 1874 Yates F., L’arte della memoria, tr. it. Torino 1972

26 CUSANUS’ LEHRE DER DOCTA IGNORANTIA IN IHREN PHILOSOPHISCHEN KONSEQUENZEN Nikolaos Avgelis Abstract This paper is a critical exposition of the doctrine of ‘learned ignorance’, which pervades all of Cusanus’ writings. My purpose is twofold: to show how more comprehensible the doctrine becomes, when we identify its sources, and to consider the consequences this doctrine has for a perspectival conception of truth. Die Bezeichnung docta ignorantia bildet den Grundbegriff der cusanischen Erkenntnislehre; auf diesem baut sich die Lehre von der Koinzidenz der Gegensätze (coincidentia oppositorum) auf, welche das Kernstück der Philosophie von Cusanus darstellt. Auf den ersten Blick wird wohl einem jeden der Ausdruck docta igno­ rantia recht ungewöhnlich erscheinen, denn der Begriff, der dem Adjektiv docta zugrunde liegt, lässt sich offensichtlich nicht mit dem Begriff der ignorantia verbinden. Fraglich ist folglich, was unter der docta ignorantia zu verstehen ist. Im Folgenden werde ich versuchen, die docta-ignorantia-Lehre in ihrem geschichtlich-philosophischen Zusammenhang kritisch darzustellen. Auf Konsequenzen, die sich aus der docta­ignorantia-Einsicht ergeben, werde ich insoweit eingehen, als sie für die Wahrheitsproblematik relevant sind. I Um einen Einblick in den tieferen Sinn dieses philosophischen Kunstausdrucks bei Cusanus zu gewinnen, wäre meines Erachtens ein Rückblick auf die Vorgeschichte des Begriffs in vieler Hinsicht sehr aufschlussreich. Nicolaus Cusanus (1401 – 1464) hat nämlich den Begriff der docta ignorantia nicht neu gebildet, sondern ihn von Augustinus und den christlichen Mystikern übernommen.1 Der Terminus findet sich in einem Brief des Augustinus an die reiche Witwe Proba, wo er vom Sinn des Gebetes und insbesondere von der Glückseligkeit der Seele als Gegenstand des Gebetes spricht. Die hier interessierende Stelle lautet: est ergo nobis quaedam, ut ita dicam, docta ignorantia, sed docta spiritu Dei, qui adjuvat infirmitatem no­ stram.2 Insofern das Gebet und die Glückseligkeit der Seele auf die übersinnliche 1 2

Vgl. hierzu Joh. Übinger, Der Begriff docta ignorantia in seiner geschichtlichen Entwicklung, Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie, 8 (1895), S. 1 ff. Augustinus, Epistula ad Probam, Migne P. L. XXXIII, Ep. 130, cap. XV, 28.

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Sphäre des göttlichen Lebens verweisen, sind sie in ihrem eigentlichen Sinn nicht zu begreifen;3 den Gläubigen aber kommt Gott selbst zu Hilfe, indem er die menschliche Schwachheit unterstützt. Wir wissen zwar nicht genau Bescheid, was wir beten, aber in diesem Unwissen sind wir doch einigermaßen wissend, sofern Gott selbst uns belehrt. Und gerade dieses demütige Eingeständnis der Unwissenheit ist nach Augustinus dem unbesonnenen Bekenntnis des Wissens vorzuziehen: sit pia confessio ignorantiae magis quam temeraria professio scientiae.4 Der Gedanke der docta ignorantia findet sich auch bei Dionysius Areopagita, dem Vater der christlichen Mystik; bei ihm steht er in enger Verbindung mit der Gotteserkenntnis und führt zur Ausbildung einer höheren Stufe der Theologie, der negativen Theologie, der gemäß Gott jenseits aller Kategorien rationaler Erkenntnis liegt. Der Leib ist nach dieser Auffassung der Grund unserer geistigen Beschränktheit. Der körperhafte Mensch ist nicht imstande, Unkörperliches zu erkennen. Der Mensch, der den Weg zu Gott sucht, findet sich vor einer undurchdringlichen Finsternis; das Eintreten in das mystische Dunkel, das wegen der übermässigen Lichtquelle als Dunkelheit empfunden wird, geschieht durch das Heraustreten aus allem endlichen Sein und aus sich selbst: ὅταν ὁ νοῦς, τῶν ὄντων πάντων ἀποστάς, ἔπειτα καὶ ἑαυτὸν ἀφείς, ἑνωθῇ ταῖς ὑπερφαέσιν ἀκτῖσιν, ἐκεῖθεν καὶ ἐκεῖ τῷ ἀνεξερευνήτῳ βάθει τῆς σοφίας καταλαμπόμενος.5 Der Aufstieg zu Gott, dem Unerkannten, wird deshalb durch Negation des Endlichen ermöglicht, denn Gott „wird weder begriffen, noch erklärt, noch genannt“.6 Es handelt sich nämlich um eine mystische Erhebung der einzelnen Seele, welche alles verlässt, was sonst das Wahrnehmen, Denken und Erkennen ausmacht, und „unerkennend“ („δι’ ἀγνωσίας“7) zu Gott aufsteigt und sich mit ihm verbindet: Τὰς αἰσθήσεις ἀπόλειπε καὶ τὰς νοερὰς ἐνεργείας, καὶ πάντα αἰσθητὰ καὶ νοητά, καὶ πάντα οὐκ ὄντα καὶ ὄντα, καὶ πρὸς τὴν ἕνωσιν, ὡς ἐφικτόν, ἀγνώστως ἀνατάθητι τοῦ ὑπὲρ πᾶσαν οὐσίαν καὶ γνῶσιν.8 Zur Vereinigung, soweit sie erreichbar, mit Gott, welcher über Sein und Wesen erhaben ist, muss man sich erheben, indem man auf alles Wissen verzichtet und dank dieses Verzichtes, dank dieses Nichtwissens, in jene Erkenntnis eintritt, die alles Wissbare übersteigt. Das führt zu dem Paradox, dass Gott im Nichtwissen gewusst wird: καὶ εἰς τὸν γνόφον τῆς ἀγνωσίας εἰσδύνει τὸ ὄντως μυστικόν, καθ’ ὃν ἀπομύει πάσας τὰς γνωστικὰς ἀντιλήψεις καὶ ἐν τῷ πάμπαν ἀναφεῖ καὶ ἀοράτῳ γίγνεται, πᾶς ὢν τοῦ πάντων ἐπέκεινα, καὶ οὐδενὸς οὔτε ἑαυτοῦ οὔτε ἑτέρου, τῷ παντελῶς δὲ ἀγνώστῳ τῇ πάσης γνώσεως ἀνενεργησίᾳ κατὰ τὸ κρεῖττον ἑνούμενος καὶ τῷ μηδὲν γινώσκειν ὑπὲρ νοῦν γινώσκων.9 Diese Lehre von der mystischen 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Ebenda, cap. IV, 9–V, 10: Quod itaque dici breviter potest, ora beatam vitam… Hic fortasse jam quaeras quid sit beata vita. In qua quaestione multorum philosophorum ingenia otiaque contrita sunt. Vgl. Augustinus, Sermo de verbis evangelii Ioannis, cap.1 1–3, Migne P. L. Sermo 117. Vgl. Dionysius, De divinis nominibus, VII, 3, Migne PG 3, 865B. Ebenda, VII, 3. Ebenda, VII, 3. Vgl. Dionysius, De mystica theologia, I, 1, Migne PG III, 997. Ebenda, I, 3.

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Erkenntnis Gottes im Dunkel des Nichtwissens hat auf die Nachwelt, und insbesondere auf Cusanus, eingewirkt. Bei den Mystikern des Mittelalters (bei Bonaventura u.a.) steht die ignorantia in enger Beziehung zu der Erhebung in das mystische Dunkel, welches das höchste Erfassen Gottes bezeichnet. Das Adjektiv „docta“ deutet darauf hin, dass in derselben die höchste Weisheit mit dem Bewusstsein der Unwissenheit sich eng verbindet; und diese höchste Weisheit ist nicht das Werk des Menschen, sondern das Werk der göttlichen Gnade, eine Weisheit also, die von Gott selbst gelehrt wird. Diesen spezifisch theologischen Sinn hat der Ausdruck docta ignorantia im Mittelalter beibehalten; der zugrundliegende Gedanke ist aber auf Dionysius Areopagita zurückzuführen. Cusanus wurde vom Neuplatonismus durch die Vermittlung von Dionysius entscheidend beeiflusst. Die Grundbegriffe seines Denkens, wie etwa docta ignorantia und coincidentia oppositorum haben hier ihre Wurzeln. II In seinem Hauptwerk unter dem seltsamen Titel De docta ignorantia, das im Jahre 1440 erschienen ist, stellt Cusanus die Frage nach Gott und seiner Erkennbarkeit aufs Neue. Seinem Nachdenken über Gott liegt der Begriff der docta ignorantia zugrunde, welcher mit dem Begriff der coincidentia oppositorum in enger Verbindung steht. Beide Begriffe wurden schon von früheren Philosophen verwendet, doch hat Cusanus ihnen einen neuen Inhalt verliehen. Cusanus war das Neue seiner Gedanken durchaus bewusst, wie aus der „Epistula auctoris“ deutlich hervorgeht. In ihr schreibt er, er habe lange auf den verschiedenen Wegen der Lehrmeinungen vergeblich nach einer Antwort gesucht „bis er auf seiner Rückkehr aus Griechenland auf hoher See, wie durch ein Geschenk des Himmels vom Vater der Lichter („superno dono a patre luminum“) dahin gelangte, das Unbegreifliche in nicht begreifender Weise („incomprehensibilia incomprehensibiliter“) zu erfassen im Aufstieg zu den unvergänglichen Wahrheiten, die nach menschlicher Erkenntnisweise nur erkennbar sind. Diese belehrte Unwissenheit habe ich jetzt mit Hilfe dessen, der die Wahrheit ist, in diesen Büchern dargestellt, die auf der Grundlage desselben Prinzips gekürzt oder erweitert werden können. – In diesen tiefen Geheimnissen muss aber alles Bemühen unseres menschlichen Geistes verweilen, damit er sich zu jener Einfachheit erhebt, in der die Gegensätze zusammenfallen“.10 So beschreibt Cusanus sein Ursprungserlebnis auf der Seefahrt Anfang des Jahres 1438 von Griechenland nach Italien rückkehrend. Er bezeichnet dabei die Grundzüge seiner Philosophie in deren innerem Zusammenhang: die docta ignorantia und die coinciden­ tia oppositorum. In dem De docta ignorantia bemüht sich Cusanus, die Frage nach Gott aufs Neue unter einem erkenntniskritischen Aspekt zu betrachten: er fragt nämlich nicht nach der Existenz Gottes, sondern nach den Möglichkeitsbedingungen seiner Er10

Vgl. Cusanus, De docta ignorantia, III, 263, hrsg. und übersetzt von H. G. Senger, Hamburg: Felix Meiner 1977.

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kenntnis. Er geht dabei davon aus, dass zwischen der Endlichkeit des Menschen und der Unendlichkeit Gottes ein Abstand bleibt, welcher mit den Mitteln des diskursiven Verstandes („ratio“) nicht zu überbrücken ist; zwischen dem Absoluten und dem Endlichen besteht keine Proportion: manifestum est infiniti ad finitum pro­ portionem non esse.11 Die beiden Bereiche werden scharf voneinander unterschieden, so dass sie zueinander nur im Verhältnis ihres gegenseitigen Ausschlusses stehen. Die Inkommensurabilität von Begriff („notio rei“) und Sache („essentia rei“) bildet den neuen Hintergrund, vor dem Cusanus die Konstitution unserer Erkenntnis erörtert. Grundlegend ist dabei der Gedanke, dass das erkenntnissuchende Denken vergleichend ist; alle seine Begriffe sind Vergleichungsbegriffe: comparativa igitur est omnis inquisitio medio proportionis utens.12 Das Erkennen besteht also wesentlich in einem Vergleich bzw. in einem Messen des einen am anderen. Das Unendliche aber als Unendliche „entzieht sich jeder Vergleichbarkeit“.13 Cusanus’ Gedankengang führt zu der Einsicht, dass der menschliche Verstand die von Gott geschaffenen Dinge („essentiae rerum“) nicht zu begreifen vermag, denn sein Erkenntnishorizont ist auf den Bereich des Endlichen bzw. der Vielheit und Andersheit eingeschränkt; er kann nämlich überhaupt nicht begreifen, ohne zu unterscheiden, ohne ein Seiendes auf ein anderes zu beziehen. Das Wesen aber einer Sache („essentia rei“), die von Gott vor aller Zeit konzipiert wurde, ist unendlich. In der Vielheit des Universums hat jedes Ding, jedes Geschöpf sein eigenes Wesen, so dass kein wirkliches Ding irgendeinem anderen gleicht, da es sonst ja nicht mehr viele wären: nihil est in universo, quod non gaudeat quadam singulari­ tate quae in nullo alio reperibilis est.14 Die „singularitas“, von der Cusanus hier spricht, besagt Einzigkeit und Einmaligkeit. Die einzelnen Dinge sind nicht Exemplare ewiger Urbilder im platonischen Sinne; was sie sind, verdanken sie nicht ihrer Teilhabe an einer ewigen, unveränderlichen Idee, sondern Gott, der ein jedes von ihnen geschaffen hat. In seiner Platonkritik kommt Cusanus zu dem Schluss, dass es nicht viele verschiedene Urbilder geben kann; vielmehr ist ein unendliches Urbild allein hinreichend und notwendig: Non est igitur possibile plura distincta exemplaria esse… Unum enim infinitum exemplar tantum est sufficiens et necessarium.15 Es gibt nur una infinita forma formarum, cuius omnes formae sunt imagines.16 Danach sind Gottes Geschöpfe nicht vorrangig Ideen einer intelligiblen Welt, sondern endliche Individuen unserer Erfahrungswelt, die ihr eigenes Wesen haben. Denn Gott denkt eigentlich nicht, sondern er bildet Wesen: Deus enim proprie non intelligit, sed es­ sentiat.17 Die allgemeinen Wesenheiten („essentiae rerum“) sind zwar im platoni11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Ebenda, I, 3. Ebenda, I, 1. Ebenda, I, 1. Ebenda, III, 1, n. 188. Ebenda, II, 9, n. 148. Ebenda, II, 9, n. 149. De venatione sapientiae, hrsg. von R. Klibansky – J. G. Senger, Hamburg : Felix Meiner 1982, 29, n. 87.

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schen Sinne ante rem, sie werden jedoch von unseren Begriffen („notiones rerum“) unterschieden: non enim ratio, quam homo concipit, est ratio essentiae rei, quae omnem rem antecedit.18 Die Inkommensurabilität von Begriff und Sache hat zur Folge, dass wir denkend nicht das Wesen einer Sache erkennen, sondern ihren Begriff („notio rei“): wir erkennen sie nämlich nicht wie sie wahrhaft ist, sondern wie wir sie denken. Gott allein erkennt das Wesen der natürlichen Dinge, denn er ist ihr Schöpfer. Wir bilden nur die Begriffe, die uns ermöglichen, ihre Verhältnisse zu begreifen; wir können nämlich nur in Zeichen der Ähnlichkeit erkennen. Während das Unendliche sofern unerkennbar ist, als es sich jedem Vergleich entzieht, sind die einzelnen Dinge unerkennbar, weil der Vergleich, auf den sie eingehen, nie zu Ende kommt, da sich nicht zwei oder mehr so ähnliche und gleiche Dinge finden, dass sich ihre Ähnlichkeit nicht ins Unendliche steigern ließe. Deshalb ist unser Wahrheitswissen nur eine unendliche Annäherung. Zwischen unserer Erkenntnis und der Wahrheit bleibt immer eine Differenz. Aus den bisherigen Ausführungen ergibt sich, dass die Individualisierung des Allgemeinen nicht in der Materie, wie die platonisch-aristotelische Tradition verlangt, sondern in der schöpferischen Kraft Gottes zu begründen ist. Alle individuellen Differenzen liegen laut Cusanus im Wesen der Sache selbst, das aber für uns unbegreiflich bleibt: praecisa veritas est incomprehensibilis… Quidditas ergo re­ rum, quae est entium veritas, in sua puritate inattingibilis est et per omnes philoso­ phos investigata, sed per neminem uti est reperta.19 Diese Einsicht zieht sich durch all seine Schriften durch. Cusanus nennt sie docta ignorantia: sie ist das Wissen um das eigene Nichtwissen, das Wissen nämlich davon, dass die menschliche Erkenntnis hinter der Wahrheit zurückbleibt und deshalb im Grunde Nichtwissen ist. Es handelt sich dabei weder um eine „mystische Verzückung“20 noch um eine allgemeine Reflexion über die Unzulänglichkeit alles Wissens. Der docta­ignorantia Begriff ist nicht als eine skeptische Resignation hinsichtlich der Erkenntnismöglichkeiten, sondern vielmehr als eine Erkenntnismethode bzw. als eine philosophische Strategie aufzufassen, wie dies aus der folgenden Stelle klar hervorgeht: Et quanto in hac ignorantia profundius docti fuerimus, tanto magis ipsam accedimus veritatem.21 Bliebe die docta ignorantia beim Nichtwissen im Wissen bzw. beim Wissen um die Unzulänglichkeit alles Wissens stehen, so würde sie auf die skeptische Resignation22 hinauslaufen. Weit davon entfernt stellt sie hingegen die Forderung dar, zum 18 19 20 21 22

Ebenda, 33, n. 97. De docta ignorantia, I, 3, n. 10. Vgl. K. H. Volkmann-Schluck, Nicolaus Cusanus. Die Philosophie im Übergang vom Mittelalter zur Neuzeit, Frankfurt am Main 1968, S. 10. De docta ignorantia, I, 3, n. 10. „Ein skeptisches Element bleibt allerdings“ in Cusanus’ Erkenntnislehre, wie Kurt Flasch treffend bemerkt: „Cusanus vergleicht in De docta ignorantia das menschliche Erkennen in seinem Verhältnis zur Wahrheit mit dem Versuch, ein Vieleck in einen Kreis einzuschreiben … Dieser Vergleich hatte zwei Seiten: Ein Vieleck passt in einen Kreis, und wir können die Zahl der Ecken immer weiter vermehren; wir bewegen uns also immer innerhalb der Wahrheit. Aber auf der anderen Seite ist es unmöglich, das Vieleck, und habe es noch so viele Ecken, mit dem

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Absoluten auf dem Wege einer anderen, angemessenen Erkenntnisweise aufzusteigen, in deren Rahmen alle Gegensätze und Widersprüche aufgehoben werden. Das setzt voraus, dass das Denken von den Fesseln der scholastischen Logik befreit wird, welche das Prinzip vom auszuschliessenden Widerspruch zum sichersten Prinzip von allem, zum fundamentalen Seins- und Erkenntnisprinzip erklärt. Cusanus betont immer wieder das unerlässliche Erfordernis einer neuen Vernunftlogik für die Darstellung des Absoluten, einer Logik nämlich, welche die Koinzidenz der Gegensätze nicht ausschließt, sondern sich eben dieser Koinzidenz als Prinzip der Erkenntnis bedient. In seiner Apologia doctae ignorantiae weist er Aristoteles in seine Schranken, so dass man nicht das Grundprinzip seines Denkens (das Kontradiktionsprinzip) verabsolutiert. Im Hinblick auf das Absolute als die höchste Einheit sind die Gesetze der Logik und des Seins aufgehoben. Ist das Kontradiktionsprinzip das Fundament des diskursiven Verstandes (διάνοια, ratio), so ist es dies keinesfalls auch für die schauende Vernunft (intellectus), welche eine dem Verstand übergeordnete Stufe darstellt. Aber auch die Vernunft vermag den endlichen Verstand bis an die Mauer des noch Erkennbaren zu führen bzw. an die Grenze dessen, was alle Vernunft übersteigt und vom menschlichen Geist nur auf nicht begreifende Weise erfasst wird: omnem intellectum antecedens et non nisi incom­ prehensibiliter comprehendatur per omnem humanum mentem.23 Die Koinzidenz erweist sich somit als das Prinzip des höheren Bereichs des Unendlichen, des Unbegreiflichen; sie ist das Prinzip des cusanischen belehrten Nichtwissens, das Fundament der Logik der schauenden Vernunft. Fraglich ist dennoch, wie ein solches Wissen des Nichtwissens, welches das Unendliche, das Absolute betrifft, überhaupt möglich ist. Cusanus weist immer wieder auf die Beschränktheit des menschlichen Denkens hin, das auf sinnliche Erfahrung und rationalen Diskurs angewiesen ist. Soweit es aber sich seiner eigenen Grenzen bewusst ist, transzendiert es sich selbst, erhebt sich über den Bereich des Endlichen und gelangt zu der Einsicht, dass die genaue Wahrheit im Dunkel unserer Unwissenheit in der Form des nicht Erfassens aufleuchtet: concludimus praecisionem veritatis in tenebris nostrae ignorantiae in­ comprehensibiliter lucere. Et haec est illa docta ignorantia quam inquisivimus.24 Somit eröffnet sich unserem Denken die einzige Möglichkeit, über allem diskursiven Vermögen des Verstandes auf unbegreifliche Weise das Unendliche zu schauen, in dem das Größte (maximum) mit dem Kleinsten (minimum) zusammenfällt. Den Koinzidenzgedanken formuliert Cusanus im vierten Kapitel der Docta ignorantia folgendermaßen: Maximum absolute cum sit omne id quod esse potest, est penitus in actu. Et sicut non potest esse maius, eadem ratione nec minus, cum sit omne id quod esse potest. Minimum autem est, quo minus esse non potest. Et quoniam ma­ ximum est huiusmodi, manifestum est minimum maximo coincidere.25

23 24 25

Kreis zur Deckung zu bringen… Es bleibt zwischen allem, was wir sagen und denken, und der Wahrheit eine Differenz… Die genaue Gleichheit, praecisio veritatis, ist durch uns nie zu erreichen“. S. Kurt Flasch, Nicolaus Cusanus, München 2001, S. 85. De venatione sapientiae, 26. De docta ignorantia, I, 26, n. 89. Ebenda, I, 4, n. 11.

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Das Scheitern des Verstandes an der Frage nach dem Absoluten ist in der Zurückweisung der Koinzidenz begründet, die gegen das Grundprinzip des Denkens im Satz vom auszuschließenden Widerspruch verstößt: hoc autem omnem nostrum intellectum transcendit, qui nequit contradictoria in suo principio combinare via rationis.26 Während für den Verstand der Zusammenfall der Gegensätze bzw. Widersprüche unfassbar ist, eröffnet sich der Vernunft eine neue Sicht, die Sicht auf die Koinzidenz der Gegensätze im Absoluten. Zur Verdeutlichung des Koinzidenzprinzips bedient sich Cusanus mathematischer bzw. geometrischer Beispiele, wobei es darauf ankommt, verständlich zu machen, dass entgegengesetzte Bestimmungen in ihrem Grund zusammenfallen. So wird die Krümmung der Kreislinie umso geringer, je größer der Kreisdurchmesser wird. Im unendlichen Kreis würde die Krümmung gleich null, also mit der Gerade identisch. Im unendlichen Kreis bzw. im absolut Größten müssten darüber hinaus Zentrum, Durchmesser und Umfang zusammenfallen. In ähnlicher Weise sucht Cusanus zu erweisen, dass der größte Winkel (180o) mit dem kleinsten (0o) zusammenfällt, so dass der Winkel sich in eine Gerade verwandelt. Zugleich wird die Linie unendlich und fällt mit dem Dreieck zu einer Einheit zusammen. Die coincidentia oppositorum findet auch im Phänomen der Zahl statt. Wenn wir zählen, fangen wir mit eins an. Beim Zählen kann immer an eine größere Zahl gedacht werden. Alle Zahlen könnten aber nicht ohne die Einheit bestehen, die nicht mit der Zahl Eins zu identifizieren ist, denn die Zahl Eins ist, so wie alle anderen Zahlen, auf Einheiten aufgebaut: sie ist nämlich einmal die Einheit wie die Zwei zweimal usw. Die coincidentia oppositorum besteht hierbei zwischen der Einheit und der Vielheit der Zahlen. Um Zahlen zu sein, müssen sie Vielheit haben, aber jede Vielheit ist so viel Male die Einheit. Die Einheit negiert also und bejaht die Vielheit.27 26 27

De docta ignorantia, I, 4, n. 12. Vgl. hierzu Oscar Oppenheimer, Der Wahrheitsgehalt mystischer Erfahrung, Zeitschrift für philosophische Forschung, 26, 1972, S. 32. Der Koinzidenzgedanke hatte Anlass zu Missdeutungen gegeben. Laut Johannes Wenck, dem damaligen Theologieprofessor an der Universität Heidelberg, läuft die Koinzidenzlehre auf einen Zusammenfall von allem mit Gott, vom Schöpfer mit dem Geschöpf hinaus. Der Pantheismus-Einwand von J. Wenck hat Cusanus zu einer zusätzlichen Verdeutlichung seiner Grundgedanken in der 1449 erschienenen Schrift Apologia doctae ignorantiae veranlasst, in der er mit etlichen falschen Auslegungen seiner Lehre aufräumt: „Die Behauptung, das Abbild falle mit dem Urbild, das Verursachte mit seiner Ursache zusammen, kommt eher auf das Konto eines Unvernünftigen als eines Irrenden. Daraus nämlich, dass alles in Gott ist wie Verursachtes in der Ursache, folgt nicht, dass das Verursachte die Ursache sei, obwohl es in der Ursache nichts ist als die Ursache“. Wie Josef Stallmach mit Recht feststellt, „kein Zusammenfall also von allem mit Gott, obwohl alles eins ist in Gott“ (vgl. J. Stallmach, Ineinsfall der Gegensätze und Weisheit des Nichtwissens, Münster 1989, S. 3). In seiner im Jahre 1458 erschienenen Schrift De beryllo (Kap.1) hebt Cusanus hervor, „den Philosophen fehlte eine Brille, mit deren Hilfe sie die Erkenntnis dahingehend schärfen könnten, dass sie einsehen würden, dass der Satz des nicht vereinbaren Widerspruchs nur auf der Ebene des Verstandes gilt, während auf der Vernunftstufe auch ein Zusammenfall der Gegensätze erkennbar wird“ (Vgl. hierzu Birgit H. Helander, Nikolaus Cusanus als Wegbereiter auch der heutigen Ökumene, Uppsala 1993, S. 83). In seiner Kritik an den scholastischen Auslegern des Dionysius Areopagita weist Cusanus

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Cusanus ist sich darüber im klaren, dass es einen unendlichen Kreis bzw. ein unendliches Dreieck in Wirklichkeit nicht geben kann. Er erklärt hierbei, dass seine mathematischen Beispiele, die als Symbole gelten, eine Hilfsfunktion haben können: sie helfen nämlich der Vernunft, über den begrenzten Horizont des diskursiven Verstandes hinauszutreten und das Unendliche zu erblicken. Indem die Vernunft die „Mauer des Paradieses“ bzw. die Mauer des Zusammenfalls der Gegensätze erreicht, eröffnet sich eine neue, jede Fassungskraft des Verstandes übersteigende Sicht, eine Sicht nämlich auf die Transzendenz: Et repperi locum in quo revelate reperieris, cinctum contradictoriorum coincidentia. Et iste est murus paradisi, in quo habitas, cuius portam custodit spiritus altissimus rationis, qui nisi vincatur, non patebit ingressus. Ultra igitur coincidentiam contradictoriorum videri poteris et nequaquam citra.28 Das Tor, das durch die Mauer des Paradieses führt, wird von der ratio bewacht. Nur wer sie überwindet, kann ins Paradies eintreten. Gott ist jenseits der Mauer, abgelöst von allem, was gesagt oder gedacht werden kann.29 Das Auge der Vernunft mag zum Paradies hinüberschauen, was es aber dort sieht, kann es weder sagen noch einsehen (intelligere). So läuft der Erkenntnisaufstieg in das Dunkel der Überhelligkeit der Quelle allen Lichtes hinaus, in dem er am Ende ist. Über die Vernunft hinaus ist die Quelle allen Wissens das unendliche Licht, von welchem jede Erkenntnis ihr Licht hat. In einer Rückwendung in das eigene Innere bei der Suche nach der Wahrheit wird der endliche Geist sich seiner eigenen Erkenntnisbedingungen und seiner eigenen Grenzen bewusst, was ihn eben zu der unbedingten Bedingung aller Wahrheitserkenntnis, zur Quelle allen Lichtes führt, das ihm in aller Erkenntnis leuchtet. In der Widmung des De visione Dei spricht Cusanus von der „heiligsten Dunkelheit“ in der Nähe des „unzugänglichen Lichtes“ und am Ende des sechsten Kapitels in einer Modifikation des platonischen Sonnengleichnisses unterstreicht er, dass uns Gott unsichtbar bleibt, weil er in keinem Licht unseres Verstandes gesehen wird. Sicuti dum oculus noster lucem solis, quae est facies eius, quaerit videre, primo ipsam velate respicit in stellis et coloribus et omnibus lucem eius participan­ tibus; quando autem revelate intueri ipsam contendit, omnem visibilem lucem tran­ silit, quia omnis talis minor est illa, quam quaerit ; sed quia quaerit videre lucem, quam videre non potest, hoc scit quod quamdiu aliquid videt, non esse id, quod quaerit. Oportet igitur omnem visibilem lucem transilire. Qui igitur transilire debet omnem lucem, necesse est quod id, quod subintrat, careat visibili luce; et ita est oculo tenebra. Et cum est in tenebra illa, quae est caligo, tunc, si scit se in caligine esse, scit se ad faciem solis accessisse. Oritur enim ex excellentia lucis solis illa caligo in [p.24] oculo. Quanto igitur scit caliginem maiorem, tanto verius attingit in caligine invisibilem lucem. Video, domine, sic et non aliter inaccessibilem lucem et pulchritudinem et splendorem faciei tuae revelate accedi posse.30 Hier ist zwei-

28 29 30

darauf hin, dass sie die Intention des Dionysius verfehlten, der der einzige war, der den Koinzidenzgedanken erfasst hat. Vgl. hierzu De Beryllo, hrsg. von E. Hoffmann – Paul Wilpert – Karl Bormann, Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1987, 22, n. 32. De visione Dei, 9, hrsg. von Adelaida D. Riemann, Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 2000. Ebenda, Kap. 6. Ebenda, Kap. 6, n. 21.

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erlei zu bemerken: erstens wird die Gottesfrage aus der Perspektive des menschlichen Subjekts, in Zusammenhang nämlich mit seinen eigenen Voraussetzungen und Möglichkeiten aufgeworfen; zweitens ist die Entrückung Gottes in eine dem menschlichen Erkennen unzugängliche Ferne als Folge der Einsicht in die Beschränktheit menschlichen Denkens (docta ignorantia) zu verstehen. Wenn nun damit das Wissensbemühen in die Dunkelheit des Nichtwissens mündet, so doch nicht in Resignation, denn, insoweit man sich des Nichtwissens bewusst wird, entsteht in der Dunkelheit ein Licht in Form einer neuen Einsicht als Weisheit des Nichtwissens. Es handelt sich dabei um ein Wissen als attingere, nicht als comprehendere; man kann nämlich das Absolute berühren (attingere), ohne es jedoch völlig zu erfassen. Somit erweist sich die cusanische Philosophie als eine Philosophie der docta ignorantia: das, wodurch alles ist, wodurch alles erkannt wird, bleibt im Grunde unerkennbar. Die Mauer zwischen dem, was wir verstehen können, und dem, was wir nicht verstehen können, lässt sich nicht übersteigen: Tu enim, qui occurris, quasi sis omnia et nihil omnium simul, habitas intra murum il­ lum excelsum, quem nullum ingenium sua [p.42] virtute scandere potest.31 Dennoch ist unser Versuch, die Mauer zu erklettern, nicht unergiebig. Das Wissen nämlich, dass wir es nicht können, ist kein leeres Wissen; im Gegenteil, es ist wissensreich, die ignorantia ist docta. Cusanus fragt sich: Sed quid est, deus meus, intellec­ tus in ignorantia? Nonne docta ignorantia? Und in der nächsten Zeile erklärt er, dass Gott in unbegreiflicher Weise, in wissender Unwissenheit erfasst werden kann: Non igitur accedi potes, deus, qui es infinitas, nisi per illum, cuius intellectus est in ignorantia, qui scilicet scit se ignorantem tui. Quomodo potest intellectus te capere, qui es infinitas? Scit se intellectus ignorantem et te capi non posse, quia infinitas. Intelligere enim infinitatem est comprehendere incomprehensibile. Scit intellectus se ignorantem te, quia scit te sciri non posse, nisi sciatur non scibile et videatur non visibile et accedatur non accessibile.32 Damit tritt Cusanus mit der mystischen Theologie des Schweigens in Verbindung, deren Wurzeln vor allem im Denken des Dionysius Areopagita zu suchen sind. So heißt es in seinem Spätwerk De venatione sapientiae: sed haec nostra in­ quisitio ineffabilis sapientiae… potius in silentio et visu quam in loquacitate et au­ ditu reperitur.33 Wenn auch Gott unsagbar und unfassbar für das Denken ist, so riechen wir dennoch und schmecken Gott im Nichtwissen: quoniam interno gustu inexpressibilem Dei bonitatem quasi in fumo aromatissimo odorabis.34 Als Schau des Nichtwissens verlässt die docta­ignorantia­Einsicht das Licht der Vernunft, um im mystischen Dunkel Gott zu erfassen. Sie ist die letzte Stufe des mystischen Weges, auf welcher die Einigung mit Gott ins Werk gesetzt ist. Dabei ist aber zu beachten, dass bei Cusanus die mystische Dunkelheit der docta ignorantia nicht die Bedeutung einer reinen Ekstase hat. Wie K. H. Volkmann-Schluck treffend bemerkt, „findet zwar in der docta ignorantia ein Überschreiten des Begriffs und des Begreifens statt, aber nicht in eine mystische Verzückung hinein, die alles Begreifen hinter 31 32 33 34

Ebenda, Kap. 12, n. 48. Ebenda, Kap. 13, n. 52. De venatione sapientiae, 33, n. 100. De docta ignorantia, III, 12, n. 258.

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sich lässt, sondern das Wahre geht gerade nur am Begriff auf, aber an ihm in seinem Vergehen am Unbegreiflichen. Um aber vergehen zu können, muss der Begriff zuvor und ständig gesetzt werden. – Das Wahre erscheint immer nur an und mit dem Begriff, der an ihm vergeht“.35 Die Mystik liegt also im Vergehen des Begriffs bzw. in der Koinzidenz der Gegensätze, in der das Wahre durch die Einsicht des Unbegreiflichen in Erscheinung tritt. III Die bisherige Betrachtung zeigte, dass die Wahrheit bzw. das Absolute als eine unendliche einfache Einheit alles Begreifen übersteigt, denn diese Einheit kann aus keiner Beziehung auf anderes erfasst werden. Diese Einsicht in die Unzulänglichkeit des diskursiven Denkens für die Erfassung des Absoluten kommt bei Cusanus mit seinem Streben zusammen, Spuren des Absoluten im Endlichen zu finden. Der Weg der docta ignorantia ist ein doppelter: einmal der Aufstieg per transcensum omnium zum Absoluten, dann aber der Abstieg zum Endlichen als Spiegel Gottes36 betrachtet. Cusanus steht in der Tradition der christlichen Metaphysik, welche die Welt als Schöpfung Gottes ansieht. Als Geschöpf hat alles Einzelne ein direktes Verhältnis zum Absoluten.37 Cusanus greift dabei auf das platonische Denken zurück, dem gemäß die Welt als Abbild der ewigen Ideen gilt. Wie für Platon die Welt ein Abbild des Urbildes ist, so ist für Cusanus die Welt ein Spiegel, ein Widerschein (resplendentia) des Göttlichen. Wie K.H. Volkmann-Schluck bemerkt, „hat der Spiegelvergleich seine Herkunft aus der Philosophie der Neuplatoniker, die an der Spiegelung veranschaulichten, wie das Eine im νοῦς sich selber erblickend Vieles wird und dennoch in der Vielheit der Sichten das Eine bleibt“.38 Cusanus denkt über die Teilhabe (μέθεξις) des Endlichen am Ewigen anders als Platon: er denkt nämlich die Welt als Ausfaltung (explicatio) Gottes und Gott als die Einfaltung (complicatio) der Welt. In diesem Begriffspaar der Einfaltung und Ausfaltung denkt Cusanus das Verhältnis der Vielheit der Einzelseienden zur göttlichen Einheit des Seins. In ihrer Vielheit nämlich spiegeln die Dinge jeweils einen Teil des göttlichen Wesens wider.39 Gott ist die Einfaltung von allem insofern, als 35 36 37 38 39

Vgl. K. H. Volkmann-Schluck, S. 10. Vgl. hierzu De docta ignorantia, II, 2, n. 103: Quis est igitur, qui intelligere queat, quomodo diversimode una infinita forma participetur in diversis creaturis, cum creaturae esse non possit aliud esse quam ipsa resplendentia? Vgl. hierzu Ernst Hoffmann, Das Universum des Nicolaus von Cues, Heidelberg 1930, S. 12. Vgl. K. H. Volkmann-Schluck, Nicolaus Cusanus, S. 46. Vom Neuplatoniker Plotin über Dionysius Areopagita wurde der Gedanke der Teilhabe im Christentum auf Gott, den Schöpfer, übertragen und durch Johannes Eriugena und Meister Eckhart dem Cusanus übermittelt. Cusanus wirft gelegentlich die Frage auf, wie und warum es zu dieser Vielheit der Dinge gekommen sei. Statt aber die Frage nach der Rechtfertigung der Welt zu beantworten, nimmt er seine Zuflucht zu Gottes Willen, der aber nichts erklärt. So fragt er sich im De docta ignorantia (II, 3, n. 109), wie aus dem göttlichen Geist die Vielheit der Dinge hervorgeht, begnügt sich aber mit einem Verweis auf den freien Willen Gottes: Eius [Dei] voluntas omnipotens causa est (ibid. II, 3, n. 111). Klar und deutlich wird dies im De Beryllo ausgesprochen: Et ita dico cum

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alles in ihm ist; er ist die Ausfaltung von allem insofern, als er in allem ist.40 Hier ist klar ausgesprochen, dass sich die unendliche Einheit Gottes in Vielheit, das Ewige in das Zeitliche entäußert hat. Wie Wolfgang Sommer in diesem Zusammenhang treffend bemerkt, „bekommt bei Cusanus das Gott-Welt-Verhältnis mit dem Gedanken der explicatio und complicatio jene charakteristische Prägung, die der scholastischen Auffassung von Gott als dem höchsten Seienden jenseits der Welt ebenso widerstreitet wie einem pantheistischen Identitätsdenken. Der Zusammenhang zwischen Gott und Welt besteht allein darin, dass die Welt die explicatio Gottes ist, d.h. die Selbstdarstellung Gottes als des absolut Einen in Form der immerwährenden Andersheit“.41 Nach dem Gottesverständnis des Cusaners fällt also Gott weder mit der Welt zusammen noch ist er von ihr völlig entrückt. Zur Verdeutlichung dieses Sachverhalts nimmt Cusanus zahlreiche Beispiele vornehmlich aus dem Bereich der Mathematik. So wird die Zahl beziehungsweise der Vorgang des Zählens als die Entfaltung der Einheit, als „explicatio unitatis“ angesehen: nam qui numerat, explicat vim unitatis et complicat numerum in unita­ tem.42 Vieles kann als Vieles bestehen, wenn es eine Einheit gibt, aus der es entsprungen ist, so wie die Zahl eine Einheit von Einheiten ist: unitas igitur, sine qua numerus non esset numerus, est in pluralitate. Et hoc quidem est unitatem expli­ care, omnia scilicet in pluralitate esse.43 Auf diese Weise erklärt Cusanus, dass das Viele ein Teil der Einheit ist, in welcher das Viele verbleibt. Eine entsprechende explicatio sieht Cusanus in der Ausfaltung des Punktes in die Linie; wie nämlich die Linie der ausgefaltete Punkt ist, so ist Gott die ausgefaltete Einheit. Dabei ist zu beachten, dass die angesprochene Entfaltung keine Emanation im neoplatonischen Sinne ist, denn die Welt ist dem christlichen Schöpfungsbegriff gemäß durch einen freien Willensakt Gottes geschaffen worden. Zur Konkretisierung dieses Grundgedankens, auf welchem sein philosophisches System aufbaut, bedient sich Cusanus auch des Beispiels der alten Heiden, die über die Juden lachten, die den einen unendlichen Gott anbeteten, den sie nicht kannten. Und doch verehrten auch die Heiden denselben Gott, wie sie seine göttlichen Werke erblickten. Statt die einfache Einheit Gottes als Inbegriff aller Dinge zu verehren, erkannten die Heiden nicht, dass sie die Ausfaltung nicht als Bild, sondern für die Wahrheit nahmen.44 Wenn nun Cusanus im De docta ignorantia behauptet, dass die sichtbaren Dinge in Wahrheit Bilder des Unsichtbaren seien und unser Schöpfer von den Kreaturen erkannt und gesehen werden könne wie in einem Spiegel (in speculo) und Rätsel (in aenigmate45), so steht er in der Tradition der christlichen Metaphysik; nur

40 41 42 43 44 45

sapiente quod omnium operum dei nulla est ratio, scilicet cur caelum caelum et terra terra et homo homo, nulla est ratio nisi quia sic voluit qui fecit. (De Beryllo, 30, n. 51). Vgl. De docta ignorantia, II, 3, n.107. Deus ergo omnia complicans in hoc, quod omnia in eo. Est omnia explicans in hoc, quod ipse in omnibus. Vgl. Wolfgang Sommer, Cusanus und Schleiermacher, Neue Zeitschrift für Theologie und Religionsphilosophie, 12, 1970, S. 92. De mente, hrsg. von R.Steiger, Hamburg 1983, 15. Ebenda, II, 3, n. 108. Ebenda, I, 25, n. 84. Ebenda, I, 11.

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ist das Verhältnis zwischen Welt und Gott bzw. zwischen dem Endlichen und dem Unendlichen in einen neuen Zusammenhang hineingestellt. Denn die Natur ist nicht bloß der Abglanz Gottes, sondern sie wird zum Buch, das Gott mit seinem Finger geschrieben hat.46 Wie Ernst Cassirer in diesem Zusammenhang treffend bemerkt, „stehen wir hier noch fest auf religiösem Boden; aber zugleich ist jetzt – mit Schelling zu reden – der Durchbruch in das freie, offene Feld objektiver Wissenschaft vollzogen. Denn der Sinn des Buches der Natur kann nicht lediglich im subjektiven Gefühl und in der mystischen Ahnung angeeignet, sondern er muss erforscht, er muss Wort für Wort, Buchstabe für Buchstabe enträtselt werden“.47 Die Welt steht nämlich vor uns als Zeichen, das unserer Auslegung bedarf; das Endliche wird zu aenigma Gottes. Um das aenigma Gottes zu verstehen, brauchen wir einen Interpretationsschlüssel, welcher in der Mathematik zu suchen ist. Denn das Buch der Natur ist in mathematischen Zeichen geschrieben. Mit anderen Worten, Gott bzw. die Wahrheit ist in den mathematischen Formen, nämlich im Bilde zu suchen. Wie K. H. Volkmann-Schluck treffend bemerkt, „ist die Präsenz der Wahrheit im Bild die Selbstdarstellung der mens des Menschen in den Dingen… Sie bringt in all ihren Vollzügen Einheit zur Darstellung und ist so die Gegenwart der Wahrheit im Bilde. Ihr wahrstes Bild ist aber das Mathematische“.48 Cusanus distanziert sich hiermit von dem scholastischen Aristotelismus, der an einer adäquaten Erfassung des endlichen Seienden durch die menschliche Vernunft (intellectus) festhielt. Er befreit sich, mit anderen Worten, vom aristotelischen Begriff der Wahrheit als adaequatio rei et intellectus. Der endliche Geist des Menschen kann sich an der Wahrheit nur im Bilde beteiligen, weil das Unendliche allein wahr ist. Voraussetzung dafür ist eine Glaubenswahrheit, dass nämlich der menschliche Geist ein Bild Gottes (imago Dei) darstellt, in dem Sinne, dass der menschliche Geist das, was Gott in der Schöpfung vorgebildet hat, aus seiner eigenen Perspektive nachbildet. Der menschliche Geist ist insofern schöpferisch, als er aus sich heraus Begriffe erschafft (creare) bzw. bildet (fingere), mittels deren er die Welt auf seine Weise nachbildet. Während nämlich im göttlichen Geist alle Dinge als in ihrer präzisen Wahrheit (ut in sua praecisa et propria veritate) sind, sind sie in unserem Geist begrifflich als im Bilde des göttlichen aufgrund ihrer Ähnlichkeit (ut in ima­ gine seu similitudine propriae veritatis)49. Im De Beryllo weist Cusanus darauf hin, dass die Ähnlichkeit des menschlichen Geistes mit dem göttlichen im Schöpferischen liegt: homo habet intellectum qui est similitudo divini intellectus in crean­ do.50 Er nennt sogar den Menschen einen zweiten Gott (secundus deus)51. In seiner 46

47 48 49 50 51

Vgl. Idiota de sapientia, I, 137, hrsg. von R.Steiger, Hamburg : Felix Meiner, 1988: Orator: Quomodo ductus esse potes ad scientiam ignorantiae tuae, cum sis Idiota? Idiota: Non ex tuis, sed ex Dei libris. Orator : Qui sunt illi ? Idiota : Quos suo digito scripsit. Orator : Ubi reperiuntur ? Idiota : Ubique… Vgl. E. Cassirer, Individuum und Kosmos in der Philosophie der Renaissance, Berlin 1927, S. 57. Vgl. K. H. Volkmann-Schluck, Nicolaus Cusanus, S. 175. De mente, III, S. 12. De Beryllo, VI. Ebenda, VI.

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Schrift De conjecturis wird der Mensch als humanus deus52 bezeichnet. Im Unterschied aber zu Gott schafft der Mensch Begriffe,53 nicht Urbilder; die Urbilder erblickt er in sich selbst. Der Mensch geht nicht über sich hinaus, wenn er schöpferisch ist (humanitas non pergit extra se, dum creat), sondern kommt zu sich selbst in der Entfaltung seiner Kraft (sed dum eius explicat virtutem, ad seipsam pertingit).54 Cusanus ist sich in dieser Phase seines Denkens dessen bewusst, dass uns nur ein einziger Weg zur göttlichen Wahrheit offen steht, der Weg nämlich durch die mathematischen Symbole: cum ad divina non nisi per symbola accedendi nobis via pateat.55 Der Erkenntnisweg ist daher als eine investigatio symbolica zu bezeichnen. Dem Cusaner entgeht aber nicht, dass, wenn auch Gott in den mathematischen Symbolzeichen zu suchen ist, deren göttlicher Sinn jedoch nicht ohne weiteres ablesbar ist; wie die Lösung eines Rätsels kann er vielmehr in verborgenen Zusammenhängen gesucht werden.56 Die Erkenntnis ist daher änigmatisch: et haec est aenigmatica scientia.57 Es handelt sich nämlich um eine Wissenschaft, die des Rätselbildes bedarf, um das fassbar zu machen, was den menschlichen Geist selbst übersteigt; damit will Cusanus unterstreichen, dass es nicht die endgültige Wahrheit, sondern ein Rätselbild der Wahrheit ist: aenigma esse veritatis aenigma.58 K. H. Volkmann-Schluck führt zu Recht diese Möglichkeit des Geistes, in Rätselbildern der Mathematik das Wesen der Dinge zu suchen, auf „die Darstellung des Unsichtbaren im Sichtbaren“ zurück, denn „das Wesen der Dinge ist auf änigmatische Weise erblickbar“.59 In dieser Betrachtungsweise werden perspektivistische Züge des cusanischen Wahrheitsbegriffs sichtbar. Im Hinblick auf das Absolute sind alle unsere Erkenntnisse bloss Rätselbilder (aenigmata) bzw. Vermutungen (conjecturae), die nur bestimmte Perspektiven des Erkennenden darstellen: „Aber der Rätselbilder ist kein Ende, da keines so nahe zutrifft, dass es nicht immer ein noch näheres geben könnte“.60 Das heisst für Cusanus: das Erkennen in Rätselbildern bzw. Konjekturen ist die Form unserer Wahrheit. Cusanus geht insofern über den traditionellen Erkenntnisbegriff hinaus, als er sich von der adaequatio-Theorie der Wahrheit, wie sie Thomas von Aquin dargestellt hat, distanziert und sich mit einem Perspektivismus behilft, der jede Verabsolutierung des eigenen Standpunkts ablehnt. Somit wird die Wahrheit in verschiedene Perspektiven des Erkennenden aufgelöst, von denen keine einzige als die wahre bezeichnet werden kann. In jedem Geist spiegelt 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60

Vgl. De conjecturis, hrsg. von Josef Koch – W. Happ, Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1988, II, 13, n. 144. Vgl. De mente, III, S. 11: conceptio divinae mentis est rerum productio; conceptio nostrae mentis rerum notio. De conjecturis, II, 13, n. 144. De docta ignorantia, II, 1, n. 32. Vgl. Ritter, Docta ignorantia : die Theorie des Nichtwissens bei Nicolaus Cusanus, Hamburg 1927, S. 36. Vgl. De Beryllo, VI. Ebenda, VI. Vgl. K. H. Volkmann-Schluck, S. 102–3. Vgl. De possest, 58, über. von K. Steiger, Hamburg 1973, S. 73.

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sich nämlich die Wahrheit, aber unter verschiedenen Winkeln. In dieser Hinsicht steht Cusanus am Ende der Geschichte der christlichen, mittelalterlichen Metaphysik und bereitet die Neuzeit vor. LITERATUR Augustinus, Epistula ad Probam, Migne P. L. XXXIII, Ep. 130, cap.XV, 28 - Sermo de verbis evangelii Ioannis, cap.1 1–3 Migne P. L. Sermo 117 E. Cassirer, Individuum und Kosmos in der Philosophie der Renaissance, Berlin 1927 Cusanus, De Beryllo, hrsg. von E. Hoffmann – Paul Wilpert – Karl Bormann, Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1987 De conjecturis, hrsg. von Josef Koch – W. Happ, Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1988 De docta ignorantia, hrsg. und übersetzt von Paul Wilpert und H. G. Senger, Hamburg: Felix Meiner 1977 Idiota de sapientia, hrsg. von R.Steiger, Hamburg : Felix Meiner, 1988 De mente, hrsg. von R.Steiger, Hamburg 1983 De possest, über. von K. Steiger, Hamburg 1973 De venatione sapientiae, hrsg. von R. Klibansky – J. G. Senger, Hamburg : Felix Meiner 1982 De visione Dei, hrsg. von Adelaida D. Riemann, Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 2000 Dionysius Areopagita, De divinis nominibus, Migne PG 3, 865B De mystica theologia, Migne PG 3, 997 Kurt Flasch, Nicolaus Cusanus, München 2001 Birgit H. Helander, Nikolaus Cusanus als Wegbereiter auch der heutigen Ökumene, Uppsala 1993 Ernst Hoffmann, Das Universum des Nicolaus von Cues, Heidelberg 1930 Oscar Oppenheimer, Der Wahrheitsgehalt mystischer Erfahrung, Zeitschrift für philosophische Forschung, 26 (1972) J. Ritter, Docta ignorantia: die Theorie des Nichtwissens bei Nicolaus Cusanus, Hamburg, 1927 Wolfgang Sommer, Cusanus und Schleiermacher, Neue Zeitschrift für Theologie und Religionsphilosophie, 12 (1970) J.Stallmach, Ineinsfall der Gegensätze und Weisheit des Nichtwissens, Münster 1989 Joh. Übinger, Der Begriff docta ignorantia in seiner geschichtlichen Entwicklung, in: Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie, 8, 1895 K. H. Volkmann-Schluck, Nicolaus Cusanus. Die Philosophie im Übergang vom Mittelalter zur Neuzeit, Frankfurt am Main2 1968

PART IV: HISTORY

27 THE ROMAN TEMPLES OF KOURION AND AMATHUS IN CYPRUS: A CHAPTER ON THE ARABIAN POLICY OF TRAJAN Theodoros Mavrojannis Abstract Among the sanctuaries of Roman Cyprus, there remain the ruins of four temples, which underwent reconstruction in the Imperial Age: 1) The Temple of Apollo Hylates at Kourion; 2) The Temple of Aphrodite at Amathous; 3) The Temple of Aphrodite at Palaipaphos; 4) The Temple of Zeus Olympios at Salamis. The restoration of the SW corner of the temple of Apollo Hylates, undertaken by S. Sinos in 1986, has revealed the peculiar decoration of the prostasis, which consists of plain-faced capitals bearing simplified horns. These capitals have been called “Nabataean”, since they mainly appear in the former area of the Nabataean kingdom (Petra, Mada’in Shalih, Herodian Masada), but also, in a much more developed form, in the Roman provincia Arabiae (Bostra, Gerasa, Si – Hauran), after its establishment in 106 A.D. This choice cannot be due to a fashionable design, inspired by formal architecture, since it recurs in the prostôon of the temple of Aphrodite at Amathous. On the basis of Roman history, I argue that this choice is a coherent political message of the Emperor Trajan in the years 100/101 – 113/114 A.D. in Cyprus, and it anticipates his ‘Arabian ideology’, which he developed as an aid in his grappling with the problem of the effective annexation of Nabataean Arabia and Judaea in the Roman Empire. 27.1 THE SANCTUARY OF APOLLO HYLATES AT KOURION Starting with the most impressive ruin of the Roman sanctuary, the temple of Apollo Hylates, it must be immediately observed that the problem of the chronology of the temple (13) has not yet reached its conclusion (Fig. 1–2).1 This is due, in part, to the 1

A. H. S. Megaw, “Archaeology in Cyprus, 1949–1950”, JHS 71, 1951, 259: ‘At the Apollo sanctuary G. McFadden cleared the site of the main temple. Originally a single cella entered through a shallow porch at the narrow south end, it was doubled, probably at the end of the first century A.D., when the cult of Apollo Caesar was added to that of Apollo Hylates. Each cella had a central nave with two side-aisles, raised above the naves behind doric colonnades. The partition wall and the aisles backing on to it were interrupted at the north end where there was through communication between the two naves. Below this double temple were found the foundation walls of an earlier building with a different orientation, possibly the Classical temple. McFadden also cleared part of a large building with paved porticoes round a central court. It antedates the South Building (completed in A.D. 102), which it adjoins on the east’; the ex-

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architectural study of R. Scranton, which did not take into account the organisation of the general plan of the whole sanctuary. It is indeed clear enough that the Central paved street (8) (l. 74 m., wid. 4 m.), which crosses the sanctuary linking the temple to the other buildings, mainly the South Building (6), cannot be either earlier nor later than the Temple of Apollo and the other Buildings. This is evident, though the Central Court (14) imposed in fact at this point the shaping of an irregular open space whose orientation was dictated by the frontal colonnade of the Residence of the Priest (9), raised at the end of the 4th c. B.C., along with the obligation to keep in view the Archaic Precinct of the Altar (12), which obviously preexisted, since it dates back to the late 8th or early 7th c. B.C.2 Thus, the general plan underlies a concept that arranges the sanctuary according to a vertical axis, coinciding to the axis of the Temple itself. The reason was the necessity to preserve the structures around the Altar (12), by expressing nonetheless the will to bring into light the area of the Circular monument (15). Thus creating an angle of view of 110o with the front of the precinct, given by the intersection of the Central paved street (8) with the virtual horizontal axis of the Stoa of the South Building (6), being equal to the width of the Paphos Gate (2). The Northwest Building (4), which remains so far unidentified, used probably as dormitories for an oracular service inspired by Apollo, has a proper orientation, more accentuated regarding the angle of the South Building (6), which allows indeed the preservation of the area of the South Court (3) for the entrance, without disturbing the precinct of the Circular monument (15) (diam. 18 m., approximately). This structure, consisting on the exterior of the foundations of a retaining wall, contains within the wall seven uncovered small pits (0.40–1.20 m.), cut into the bedrock, so as to accommodate the sacred trees dedicated to “Apollo of the Forest” (Excavation of D. Soren, 1979–1980). There is no

2

cavations undertaken on the site of sanctuary during the season 1949–1950 have been published in University of Pennsylvania Museum Bulletin 14, No 4; cf. G. H. McFadden, “Cyprus 1950–1951”, AJA 56, 1952, 128–129, 129: ‘The Southeast Building is dated tentatively to the period A.D. 76–101, after the earthquake of A.D. 76–77 and before the completion of the South Building in A.D. 101. Excavations in the South Building during the last year uncovered some of the walls of an earlier building which occupied approximately the same site. It is somewhat smaller but appears to have been very similar in plan : a series of rectangular rooms (exedrae) with a bench running around three sides and a continuous portico on the north side. It is almost certain that this earlier building was destroyed by earthquake, probably the one of A.D. 76–77.’ After the resuming of the excavations in 1978 by D. Buitron and D. Soren, works have been carried out at the Temple of Apollo; K. Nicolaou, “Archaeological News from Cyprus, 1977– 1978”, AJA 84, 1980, 70: ‘The actual trench-laid foundation for the original temple was exposed and pottery from it dated to the early 1st c. A.C. The temple had a second phase dated by sherds to the late 1th or early 2th c. A.C.’ D. J. Symons, “Archaeology in Cyprus, 1981–1985”, Archaeological Reports 33, 1986–1987, 64: ‘Dr. Soren continued work on the Temple of Apollo which was constructed c. A.D. 50–100 and probably destroyed by earthquake in the 360s.’ C. Bradford Welles, “Archaeological news and Discussions”, AJA 52, 1948, 532, n. 63 [The South Building in AJA 51, 1947, 277 was referred to as ‘Flavian’. ‘It should be noted that the last two rooms were built by Trajan in A.D. 101’]: ‘The autumn campaign had as its objective the clearance of the sacred way leading directly from the great South Building to the smaller temple of Apollo Hylates’.

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doubt, that these two axes and the angle of view are contemporary, since at first sight the points of joint between the palaestra (17) and the stoa of the South Building (6) fit perfectly together in their diverging direction, like their construction material. Although, therefore, there is no strength axiality, that could signify a unitary programme, all the Buildings of the sanctuary had been rebuilt at one and the same time, as far as the architectural remains we can see are concerned, that means in their last monumental phase. 27.2 THE CHRONOLOGY OF THE TEMPLE OF APOLLO HYLATES This is a first conclusion, but a very important one, that will help to establish the chronology of the Temple. Let us see the opinions regarding the construction of the Temple of Apollo Hylates. The temple was restored in 1986 by S. Sinos as a tetrastyle, prostyle temple in antis with a pronaos and an almost square cella on podium, not very different from what was already drawn by J. Rutherford, J. Huffstot and A. Corn in 1981, according to Scranton’s reconstruction.3 The temple stands at the north end of a paved road leading from the South Square to it, at the conclusion of the north-south monumental axis of the sanctuary. As McFadden had recognised, there are the remains of two main building phases, the one succeeding the other, having the ‘second temple’ preserved almost exactly over the basic outline of the ‘first temple’. For McFadden the second temple was most certainly Roman. Τhe ‘first temple’, a simple cella with pronaos based on a crepis of two steps, is to be dated, following the results of the last excavation undertaken by S. Sinos in 1983, to the Early Hellenistic Period, more probably in the first years of Ptolemy of Lagus (321–306 B.C.). The ‘second temple’ was a prostyle tetrastyle with cella in antis, standing on a podium 1.60 m high, which incorporated the Hellenistic orthostat, repaired and restored by the Romans at several points [north side and south-east corner]. The ‘first temple’ has been convincingly dated by S. Sinos “to the late Classical period or to Early Hellenistic times”, on the grounds of stratified fills securely pertaining to the structures (Fig. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7). Besides, the road leading to the temple cannot be but Hellenistic [p. 137–138], to be dated tentatively soon after the erection of the temple, during the years of the rule of Cyprus by Demetrius Poliorcetes (306–294 B.C.).4 Morever, many inscribed pedestals from the Hellenistic 3

4

S. Sinos, The Temple of Apollo Hylates at Kourion and the Restoration of its South-West Corner (with the collaboration of F. Wenzel, E. Kalliri, M. Ieronymidou), Athens 1990, 54-55; D. Buitron & D. Soren, “Excavations in the sanctuary of Apollo Hylates at Kourion”, J. C. Biers & D. Soren (eds.), Studies in Cypriote Archaeology XVIII, Los Angeles 1981, 99–100. S. Sinos, The Temple of Apollo Hylates, 137. The excavation of 1983 consisted of a trench in the area in front of the temple. There was: 1) a layer of lime mortar with cobbles and below this 2) paving at the height of the course giving the level of the crepis of the early temple. This paving was the continuation in front of the main entrance of the temple. Below this level there was 3) a layer of red soil with pebbles. The layer 1) contained finds dating from the Cypro-Archaic to the Hellenistic Period, the layer 3), just under the foundation structure of the entrance to the early – ‘first temple’, also contained finds from these periods, but the latest is clearly dated to the 4th c. B.C. (fig. 153–154, 118–119: fragments of terracotta figurines from the layer

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period (3rd- 2nd c. B.C.) were found in the area in front of the temple facing the road or in the Archaic Precinct.5 The ‘second temple’ is beyond any doubt a Roman building, but his chronology is contradictory and has been challenged. By reviewing the work of S. Sinos, H. Catling has pointed out what was lacking in the previous accounts: ‘The epigraphic hint that the Apollo temple played a part in imperial cult opens an intriguing line of speculation on the kind of patronage responsible for the rebuilding programme, with a chance of picking a closer date for the reconstruction’. This will be our task in the next chapter, i.e. to clarify the Roman ideology. R. Scranton in 1967 was also very precise [p. 21],6 when he stated that the temple of Apollo Hylates had “two distinct structural phases”: 1) A simple rectangular building with a cella preceded by a vestibule entered by a door at ground level, without columns in front; 2) A colonnated pronaos which gave access to a cella. The pronaos was raised on a podium built upon the base of the earlier building. The podium was attainable in front by a flight of twelve steps forming a broad staircase. However, the very problem has always been the absolute chronology of the two successive buildings, and not the architectural reconstruction. For Scranton [p. 25], the first temple was “probably no earlier than the time of Augustus” and the second temple was built probably at the time of Trajan, as the find of a large jar with a dedication to Apollo Hylates and Apollo Caesar beneath the stone paving would suggest [cf. No 123].7 Two or three times D. Soren has expressed his view on the chronology of the temple. In the RDAC 1979, after the resuming of the excavation in 1978 [he dug again in the Trench 4 of the McFadden excavation in 1935 and 1936, in the area of

5

6 7

of red soil above the bedrock); cf. ibid. 138: Under a slab of the paved road were discovered, in the filling, finds from the Archaic and Classical periods, proving that the road cannot have been constructed earlier than the Classical or later than the Hellenistic period. It dates in all probability from the Hellenistic period, as the early temple of Apollo. Nos 29–33, from the Archaic Precinct, datable in 250–225 B.C.; Nos 38–39, dans les ruines du temple (152–150 B.C.); No 40, from the Northwest Building (250 ca. B.C.); No 58, from the Central Court (274–266 B.C.); No 41, from the Central Court (221–205 B.C.); No 42, from the Central Court (200–193 B.C.); No 43, near the Temple (192–183 B.C.); No 44, from the Central Court and the Street (190–180 B.C. ?); No 45, from the Sanctuary (142–131 B.C.); Nos 49–51, from the East Complex (ca 190 B.C. ?); No 52, auprès les ruines du temple (ca 180–160 B.C. ?); No 53, amid the ruins of the Apollo Sanctuary (ca. 175 B.C.); No 54, on the west side of the Street (Late second or early first c. B.C.); No 55, from the Central Court (104/3 B.C. ?); No 60, part of the architrave of the East stoa (ca. 250 B.C.); No 63, East of the Temple of Apollo (225–200 B.C.). R. Scranton, “The Architecture of the Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates at Kourion”, TAPhS 57, 1967, 3–5. T.B. Mitford, The Inscriptions of Kourion (Memoirs of the American Philological Society, vol. 83), Philadelphia 1971, 238-240: No 123: Ἀπόλλωι Ὑλάτη καὶ Ἀπόλλ[ωνι Καίσαρι] | Πολύκτ[ητος] Τίμωνος κεραμ[εὺς ὑπὲρ ἑαυτοῦ] ? | [εὐ]χήν vvv καὶ Ὀν[ησ - - - ]. Ex-voto of a potter Polyktetos, son of Timon, to Apollo Hylates and Apollo Caesar, ca. 110 A.D. (?) Five fragments from the shoulder and rim of a pithos. Three of these fragments (a-c) were discovered by Cesnola in 1874 “along the eastern foundations” of the Temple of Apollo Hylates and “beneath its stone pavement” [Metropolitan Museum, no 74.51.2447]. This is confirmed by D. Soren, “The Temple of Apollo at the Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates”, RDAC, 1979, 323 who agrees that the stone floor, now missing, of the second temple must be at least of Trajanic date, “If Mitford is correct in his interpretation of the inscription”. He is undoubtedly correct.

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the southeast corner of the temple], he stressed that the foundations of the Temple 1 reach back to the period of Augustus “or slightly later” [p. 326] and “appears to have been little built up before the Roman period”. But he underlined also that the material found in the rubble foundations for the east wall of the staircase of the Temple 2, below the staircase, contained “material of the first century A.D. or the beginning of the second century, including three rims of Cypriot Sigillata, Hayes 10, dated between 50 A.D. and the early second century” [p. 324].8 Thus, Temple 2 might be dated “at least to the middle of the first century and may well be as late as the Trajanic period according to the finds” [p. 324].9 Whatever the case, D. Soren first thought both phases should be dated to Roman period, following what R. Scranton had established. Then, in the same year 1979 D. Soren resumed the excavation inside the temple, by digging the cella down to bedrock. He did not give a detailed account of the pottery found beneath the floor of the cella in his article of 1983, where he postulates as terminus post quem “the late fifth century B.C.”. He dealt with it in the book he edited in 1987, The Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates at Kou­ rion, Cyprus, where he distinguished three basic levels. The fill immediately below the floor of the Temple 1 [cf. Sinos, p. 54: the foundation course is still preserved along the west and north walls of the cella (Soren’s Locus 003)] presented few sherds of Cypriot pottery along with several imported pieces dating from the 6th century B.C. A date “towards the end of the 6th century B.C.” is suggested for the course of the floor [p. 222]. But in the lower fill [Locus 001, marked above 002 and partly above 002a], which appears to be at least partly stratified, “was a coin of Ptolemy I Soter, datable between 312 and 305 B.C.” [p. 195], as S. Sinos did not fail to remark [p. 54]. Soren’s conclusions in 1987 were radical, since the earlier temple could be dated “in the mid to late sixth century B.C.” [p. 198; cf. Sinos, p. 54]. In 1983 he had already revised the first phase, assigning to it a date “not earlier than the late fifth century BC” [p. 241], and he had consequently retracted the stratigraphy established in 1978 for the foundation courses of Temple 2. S. Sinos has shown how insecure this dating of the early temple is, since the 3rd Stratum should be regarded as Roman [it extended over the level of the floor of the early temple] and the 4th Stratum, which dates the early temple, did not have clear ties to the surrounding structures [p. 135–137]. In RDAC 1983 Soren had also tried to be more precise about the chronology of Temple 2, that might be dated to 65 or 66 A.D., during the reign of Nero [p. 238]. In 1987 he stressed nevertheless that the material could extend to 75 A.D. [p. 202: the second temple could well have been built in 65 or 66 A.D., or at least erected between 50 and 75 A.D.]. What was his final observation in 1983 [p. 241: the second temple contained associated fills with pottery of 50 to 75 A.D.] ? He thought to find evidence in epigraphy. After the excavation of 1978–1980, E. Lane published in an Appendix [RDAC 1983, p. 242–244] a new 8 9

D. Soren, “The Temple of Apollo”, 321–327; cf. R. Scranton, “The Architecture of the Sanctuary”, 25: “As to the date of the building we are unfortunately without any direct evidence”. S. Sinos, The Temple of Apollo Hylates at Kourion, 135 is wrong, when he states that “D. Soren, during his first exploration of the ruin, dated the first building phase to the time of Augustus and the second to the period of Nero”. The Neronian chronology of the Temple 2 appears in RDAC 1983.

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fragment of inscription, discovered by J. Rutherford in 1980 [Pl. XXXIII, 3–4], that he could convincingly rely on No 105 Mitford [I 157: found on 29 October 1947, on the east side of the stairway giving access to the Temple],10 pertaining presumably to the act of dedication of the temple of Apollo Hylates. The known inscribed stone would be identified as a part of the lintel set over the door of the Temple: [Ἀπόλλ] ωνι Ὑλάτηι Κουρ[ιέων ἡ πόλις].11 Traces below the inscription suggest erased lettering of another line [h. 0.495 m.; max. w. 1.13 m.]. Below these traces, there is space for yet another line. Mitford had finally thought, after having examined all the possibilities at hand [Flavian, Trajanic, Severan], that “we are concerned with the dedicatory inscription of an early Imperial temple”.12 E. Lane thinks that the new inscribed block [h. 0.52 m.: fits very well to the height 0.495 m. of No 105; w. 0.286 m., at the bottom] bearing the three letters ΝΙΟ, which was found “immediately west of the southwest corner of the temple”, would permit to supplement the previous fragment as it follows: [Ἀπόλλωνι Ὑ]λάτηι Κουρ[ιέων ἡ πόλις | ἐπὶ Λ. Ἀν] νίο[υ Βάσσου ἀνθυπάτου … But in view of the rasurae in the known fragment, the new fragment, which also had the lettering at the top of the block and two erased lines below the first one inscribed, would be better if placed as the continuation of the ‘dedicatory’ inscription, rather than in an impossible second line.13 We cannot say whether between the two fragments were the words [τὸν ναόν ἀνέθηκεν] or not. S. Sinos does not accept that this was the lintel over the entrance of the temple, 10 11

12 13

E. Lane, “Appendix. A New fragment of the Dedicatory Inscription of the Temple of Apollo Hylates”, RDAC 1983, 242–244. T. B. Mitford, The Inscriptions of Kourion, 199 points out a remark of Scranton [p. 21–22] about the inscribed block that may have had an original width at the top ca. 1.07 m. and at the bottom 1.15 m, so that the block must have been the left-hand element in a flat-arch structure, composed in all probability of a corresponding right-hand element and a keystone. “The scale would be entirely appropriate for the lintel over the door of the Temple, with the total width of this and accordingly the maximum length of the inscription something under 8 meters. The inscription, now only thirteen letters in length, was clearly continued to left and right on similar blocks”. T. B. Mitford, The Inscriptions of Kourion, 201: “This presumably occupied the site of its Hellenistic predecessor, possibly destroyed by an earthquake such as that which in 15 B.C. devastated Paphos”. Cf. D. Soren, “Some New Ideas on Dating and Rebuilding the Temple of Apollo Hylates at Kourion”, RDAC, 1983, 238. In particular, what he states about the architectural fragments “which appear to have come from the temple”, among which the block with part of the dedicatory inscription, by quoting what Scranton proposed for his positioning: “the most probable place for the dedication inscription to have appeared” was the lintel. Soren considers it by no means settled and avoids reconstructing the façade with an inscribed lintel. He underlines then that J. Rutherford believed that the dedicatory inscription may have been inscribed on a lintel having the form of a flat-arch, to be set up over the door of the pronaos, since the end of the block is cut diagonally. D. Soren concludes: “Dr. Scranton has suggested a brief and convenient hypothetical completion of the inscription while Mitford noted the possibility that the inscription had second and third lines which were erased”. I cannot understand what follows: “But Mitford doubted the additional lines and ended by agreeing with Scranton”. In the photo of 200 [cf. RDAC 1983, Pl. XXXVIII 4] the lettering is placed at the very top of the lock, clearly leaving the space for the two erased lines. This is also the case of the new fragment, which had three lines, like the previous fragment.

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he accepts nevertheless that the inscription does come from the time of Nero.14 Thus, it is probable that we are in presence of the proconsul of 65–66 A.D. in Cyprus, who would have intervened in the Temple of Apollo Hylates in the last years of Nero. What kind of intervention we cannot say. Sinos does not exclude that the inscription is related to some repair or renewal works of the temple after the damages from the earthquake of 15 B.C. [p. 139, n. 177] and this must be the solution. The Nabataean temple has nothing to do with the Neronian repairs. Mitford, too, seems finally to favour a Neronian date for No 105. The erasures would confirm the damnatio memoriae of Nero after 68 A.D. In any case, Nero’s interest in Kourion is well attested by No 84 [from the sanctuary of Apollo Hylates] and No 107. The first inscription is the dedication of a statue of Nero by the proconsul L. Annius Bassus. The second one, a bilingual inscription, apparently records the reconstruction of the Theatre. Nonetheless, what may be deemed as certain is that whatever the consistency of the presence of a Neronian dedication in the Temple of Apollo Hylates, the earliest construction with such a lintel over the door does not correspond to the prostyle tetrastyle Temple [Mitford, p. 200]: “But the colonnaded porch, built onto the front of the Temple, is manifestly a later, presumably Trajanic, accretion.”15 This seems to be clearly decisive for the chronology of the capitals of the porch and, consequently, for the chronology of the “Temple 2”. Soren and Lane may be wrong in stating that the “second temple may date to either 65 or 66 A.D. in the reign of Nero” [p. 238]. The tetrastyle temple with the Nabataean capitals is not Neronian16. It is noticeable that Soren in 1987 changed opinion and registered the 14

15

16

S. Sinos, The temple of Apollo Hylates, 139: “the plain form of the stone is not consistent with the lintel “and it seems unlikely that it was a dedicatory inscription placed above the lintel, with letters approximately 8 cm high, and containing three lines”; ibid. 139, n. 177: “It is obvious that the inscription could belong to another, as yet unknown”. T. B. Mitford, The Inscriptions of Kourion, 200: “Here Professor Scranton has two comments to offer. The pillars of this porch cannot have carried the flat arch he postulates, so that the inscription, if it be contemporaneous with the porch, should occupy a position partially obscured by it. We must accordingly ask whether the inscription as such favors an earlier or a later date”. S. Sinos, The Temple of Apollo Hylates, 139–140 thought that there was a first-phase staircase for Temple 2, which would have occupied only the central aperture of the facade, “contemporary to the Roman remodelling” (Fig. 5): “The outer faces of its cheek-walls were plastered and an outer floor constructed, which covered the bottom step of the ancient crepidoma.What we saw above makes it clear that the structure of the first phase of the staircase is earlier than the Roman floor outside the temple, since the latter rests on the plastered surface of the cheek wall”. This first-phase Roman Temple, with a staircase adapted to the width of the road, should be Neronian and the temple should have already carried Nabataean capitals (Fig. 253, p. 230), while the period of the major Roman remodelling and reconstruction of Temple itself, corresponding to the extension in width of the staircase, must be indeed Trajanic. But after this remark Sinos admits that the achievement of the superstructure of the Temple could as well have been followed by the modelling of the area in front of and around the Temple, since the narrow staircase could have been erected after the podium had been completed, as “working structure”, being its cheek-walls transitional in character (140–141): “the two phases of the staircase observed can be seen as part of a single building period for the temple, and both can be assigned to the same general historical period”. Let us say that we do not possess the capitals of the first-phase Roman Temple, since the Nabataean capitals belong certainly to the Trajanic phase.

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Temple 2 as “probably Julio-Claudian” [p. 165], which would agree with Lane’s “possibly Neronian date”. As anyone can easily verify, the problem of the absolute chronology of the temple is relevant and may be held against the excavators17, who did not consider it necessary to compare two kinds of different evidence, Cypriot Archaeology and Roman History. The core of the problem, indeed, having accepted that the stratigraphical data and the ostraca do not offer any closer guarantee, is the architectural decoration of the Temple 2 – Second Temple, in as much as the capitals belong to an exceptional type, which was current in Petra and Bosra. Hence, the name ‘Nabataean capitals’. It is exactly this macroscopic feature that must be dated and historically interpreted, if the stratigraphy from the trenches dug against the foundations, as well as the crepis, the stylobate and the toichobate – morever the positioning of an elusive first dedicatory inscription – cannot consolidate the chronology of the main Roman Temple, in the form corresponding to the restoration of the South-West corner undertaken by S. Sinos. On the other side, the Cypriot Nabataean specimens from Kourion, and from Amathus, are of superior quality than those from Petra, of much more tidy lines and it has been suggested that the type could have originated in Cyprus. From Cyprus it would have been exported overseas to Syria. A second name ‘Cypro-corinthian’ capital was therefore attributed to this particular pattern. The perfect running of the lines cannot hide a fact, namely that the earliest prototypes are found in Petra, the capital of the Nabataean Kingdom. How and why it was possible to geographically enlarge some of the features from the architectural landscape of the Arabian Rocky Mountains and introduce them into Cyprus remains a serious problem. Undoubtedly, architecture is the most political of all the arts. It brings messages for a wider people, by distinguishing the spaces with ‘cultural features’. If Nabataea has a priority and the temple of Apollo Hylates stood under Roman imperial authority, then we have to understand the politics applied by Rome in Cyprus, Nabataea and Syria in the years immediately after the 1st Jewish War. This war, put forward by Vespasian and Titus between 66 and 73 A.D., saw a new political organisation of the East. 27.3 THE INSCRIPTIONS FROM THE SANCTUARY OF APOLLO HYLATES A remarkable series of inscriptions comes from the sanctuary, which testify building activity affecting various structures in the first years, just at the very beginning of the 2nd c. A.D. They have been listed and commented on by T. B. Mitford, The Inscriptions from Kourion (1971), and they must be now taken into consideration, for defining precisely the chronology of the Main Building Phase, before we interpret historically the significance of these works. What we have ascertained, on the 17

More elegant, S. Sinos, The Temple of Apollo Hylates, 135 wrights: “In the case of the earlier temple, then there are great differences of date in the existing bibliography, ranging from the Archaic period to the time of Augustus. There is also a certain lack of clarity as to the Roman temple, though this is invariably assigned to periods between the middle of the first century AD and the period of Trajan”.

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grounds of structural remarks upon the general plan, is that there must have been a unitary project and this project should be tested in comparison to the aforementioned inscriptions, in order to ensure whether the project has a correspondence to the epigraphical data or not. We have made a strict selection, by accepting the argument of Mitford, that the presence of Apollo Caesar as partner and at the outset senior partner to Apollo Hylates is characteristic of the reign of the Emperor M. Ulpius Traianus (27 or 28 January 98 – August 117 A.D.), which, on the other hand, is gradually confirmed by the dates of the Proconsuls. No 108 (Ι 152, Episkopi; from the Sanctuary, found on 27 May 1939): Trajan constructs the two last exedrae of a building, those which were not achieved among the exedrae of the initial project.18 This building is dedicated to Apollo Caesar and Apollo Hylates, under the supervision of the procos. Q(uintus) Laberius L(uci) f(i­ lius) Aem(ilia) Iustus Cocceius Lepidus, who also consecrated the work. The title of Trajan, not yet awarded of Dacicus – since the end of 102 A.D. or the beginning of 103 A.D. – is dated by the fourth Consulship of the Emperor during the year 100– 101 A.D., despite the parallel mention of his fourth tribunicia potestas which actually began on 10 December 99 and ended on 9 December of 100 A.D. From 10 December 100 to 9 December of 101 A.D. Trajan held not the fourth but the fifth tribunicia potestas.19 In order to solve the discrepancy, Mitford states that the tribunicia potestas was calculated from the death of Nerva on 25 January of 98 A.D., dating thus the inscription between 1 January and the end of August of 101 A.D. The main problem is the meaning of λειπούσας ἐξέδρας δύο, since, if translated as the rest of the “existing” exedrae – of those which were already built – there must have been an older inscription concerning the original three exedrae, which poses a huge question: How much time elapsed between the building of the three and of the two? But Scranton did not like to separate two of the exedrae of the South Building from the rest, thinking in a practical way that they were all five “so designed and so begun from the foundations”. Mitford wrote in addition that “Kourion at the outset of the reign of Trajan, having designed the South Building as a unit”, ovespending, so that it became in fact necessary for Trajan to intervene, to complete the works through his Proconsul. This has seemed to be a solid achievement of the research, much more because the slab of white marble with the inscription (l. 3.25 m.) stood on the architrave of the portico of the South Building, be18

19

No 108: Αὐτοκράτωρ Καῖσαρ, Θεοῦ Νέρουα υἱὸς, Νέρουας Τραϊανὸς | Σεβαστὸς Γερμανικός, ἀρχιερεὺς μέγιστος, δημαρχικῆς (leaf) | ἐξουσίας τὸ δ΄, ὕπατος τὸ δ΄, πατὴρ πατρίδος, τὰς λειπούσας | ἐξέδρας δύο Ἀπόλλωνι Καίσαρι καὶ Ἀπόλλωνι Ὑλάτη(ι) ἔκτισεν· (leaf) | Κοίντος Λαβέριος Λουκίου υἱὸς Αἰμιλία Ἰοῦστος Κοκκεῖος Λέπιδος | ἀνθύπατος τῆς κατασκευῆς ἐπεμελήθη καὶ καθιέρωσεν L δ΄. Consequently, not the “remaining”, but the “outstanding” exedrae, as Mitford insists. TRIB POT: 27 October 97; II, 27 January 98; III, 10 December 98; IIII, 10 December 99; afterwards each year: XXI, 10 December 118; cf. COS I, 91; II, 98; III, 100; IIII, 101; V, 103; VI 112; IMP II, 101; III, IIII, 102; P P, 98; I. Calabi Limentani, Epigrafia Latina, Milano 1989, 476; cf. R. Cagnat, Cours d’épigraphie latine, Paris 1898, 103-105, 104-105: “Trajan, après avoir reçu la puissance tribunice le 27 Octobre 97, la renouvela le 18 septembre (?) ; à cette date il prit donc le titre de trib. pot. II ; il prit celui de trib. pot. III au décembre de cette même année”; P P 99: p. 215.

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tween the East door of Room 4 and the West door of Room 3. The slab was in effect placed at the symmetric centre of the composition, a potential proof that the Building was not only designed but also performed as an architectural unit, in such a way that λειπούσας ἐξέδρας δύο would mean “the last two exedrae for the completion of the project”. In other words, Trajan would have contributed by financing those exedrae of the whole project for which the Curienses no long had any money for. However, the problem cannot be considered as definitely solved, since the inscription No 111, which is dated in 113–114 A.D., mentions “the part of the paved road which was lacking”, the λειπούσης λιθοστρώτου ὁδοῦ, and this clearly presupposes a chronological gap of thirteen years, between 100–101 and 113–114 A.D., for the term λειπούσης. No 109 (I 155, Episcopi; from the Sanctuary): This is the most important architectural inscription of the Trajanic sanctuary. Trajan registers that he constructed the Gate of Kourion and an adjacent Building (a Bath House) at the sanctuary of Apollo, through his agent the Proconsul of Cyprus Q. Caelius Honoratus. Since he was cos. suff. in 105 A.D., succeding Cn. Afranius Dexter, he must have undertaken such important works before 105 A.D. Mitford thought that he immediately succeded the Proconsul of 100–101 A.D., thus dating the inscription in 101–102 A.D. For the adjacent building he proposed the South-East palaestra. M. Kantirea has recently undertaken a re-examination of the inscription, and proposed a complete restoration. She has achieved some notable results, which may be deemed as a solid acquisition of the research.20 However, she did not see that the dedications of all these buildings, which might have been mentioned, confirm the unity of the project and categorically exclude a hypothetical beginning of the works under Domitian, as she argues. In fact, she proposes a two-fold interpretation of the works. The accomplishment of the works are to be dated in the years 100–101, 101–102 and 113–114 A.D., but regarding the beginning of the works – mise en chantier du projet – it would be preferable to date them during the reign of Domitian (81–96 A.D.), and more precisely in 84 A.D., when we acquire information for a statue of Domitian dedicated by the Curienses in honour of their benefactor and patronus.21 This 20

21

M. Kantirea, “Apollon Hylatès et Apollon César à Kourion à Chypre : contribution épigraphique à la topographie du sanctuaire”, CCÉC 40, 2010, No 109, p. 266: [Αὐτοκράτωρ Καῖσαρ θεοῦ Ν]έρουα υἱὸς Ν[έρουας Τραϊανός, Σεβαστός, Γερμανικός, ἀρχιερεὺς μέγιστος, δήμα-] | [ρχικῆς ἐξουσίας τὸ ε΄, ὕπατος τὸ δ΄, πατὴρ] πατρίδος, ἱερὸν Ἀπ[όλλωνος Καίσαρος καὶ Ἀπόλλωνος Ὑλάτου ἐπεσκεύασεν καὶ τὸν ναὸν σὺν τῷ προνάῳ] | [καὶ ταῖς βαθμίσι ἐκ σεισμοῦ κατειρημμ]ένον ἀνέστησεν κα[ὶ τὸ πρόπυλον τὸ φέρον εἰς τὴν Κουρίου ὁδὸν καὶ τὴν λιθόστρωτον ἀπὸ τοῦ ναοῦ] | [μέχρι τοῦ προπύλου κατεσκεύασεν κ] αὶ τὸ προσπαρακε[ίμενον γυμνάσιον σὺν τῇ παλαίστρᾳ καὶ παντὶ τῷ κόσμῳ ἔκτισεν, ἐπιμεληθέντος] | [καὶ καθιερώσαντος Κοΐντου Καιλίο]υ Ὀνηράτου ἀνθυ[πάτου (ἔτους) ε΄]; cf. No 111, ll. 7–10: λιθόστρωτον | κατεσκεύσεν τὴν λείπουσαν ἀπὸ τῆς προ- | ούσης λιθοστρώτου μέχρι τοῦ φέροντος | εἰς τὴν Παφίαν ὁδὸν προπύλου. Αὐτοκράτο[ρα Καίσαρα Δομιτιανὸν Σεβαστόν] | θεοῦ υἱόν, [Γερμανικόν, δημαρχικῆς ἐξουσίας τε] | τέταρτον, [ἀρχιερέα μέγιστον, αὐτοκράτορα] | τὸ ἕβδομο[ν, ὕπατον τὸ δέκατον, πατέρα πατρίδος,] |ὁ δῆμος v [ὁ v. (?) Κουριέων τὸν αὐτοῦ σωτῆρα καὶ] | εὐε[εργέτην καὶ πάτρωνα.]; cf. R. Bagnall – Th. Drew-Bear, “Documents from Kourion: A Review article”, Phoenix 27, 1973, 114–115.

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change to the chronology of the sanctuary is to be excluded for four reasons: 1) The cult of Apollo Caesar and Apollo Hylates, to whom the Temple is dedicated, should be reserved only for Trajan and cannot be tied to Domitian; 2) The ground plan of the sanctuary shows an optical interdependence between the main buildings, linking them through axes of view (Temple – South Building – Circular Monument), which suggests a unitary system and presupposes a unified project; 3) The two inscriptions speak about works of “execution” and not of “achévement”. 4) It seems that Trajan did intervene in Kourion, while the Flavians concentrated their attention on the sanctuary of Aphrodite at Palaipaphos. All this would lead to the conclusion that the decision for the project was taken as soon as Trajan ascended to the throne, probably in 99 A.D. If there were thoughts for a reconstruction after the earthquake of 75/76 A.D., these were intentions and not yet facts. Only the predilection of Trajan for Apollo provided the very occasion for a rearrangement of the sanctuary of Apollo Hylates, as we shall see below.22 27.4 THE IDEOLOGY OF CAESAR TRAJAN IN THE SANCTUARY OF APOLLO HYLATES Pliny the Younger as Consul, in pronouncing his public acclamatio for Trajan before the Senate in 100 A.D., was outspoken (Paneg. 2, 3): Nusquam ut deo, nusquam ut numini blandiamur. T. B. Mitford had stated that the cult of Apollo Caesar in Kourion “was in effect a veiled worship of Trajan himself”. In her recent paper M. Kantirea has again studied the association of the cult of Apollo Hylates with the cult of Apollo Caesar in Kourion. After having discussed the dossier of the inscriptions concerning the Trajanic reconstruction of the sanctuary, she points out that the assumption that Trajan would have been assimilated to Apollo Hylates must be finally rejected. Apollo Caesar would not have been a hidden nomination for a worship rendered to Trajan as Emperor in the sanctuary.23 At this point her position may be partly mistaken, since the new imperial dimension of Apollo, which is extraordinary all over the East, is not at all generic but very specific.24 In my opinion, the 22

23

24

Cf. No 110: Under the supervision of the same Proconsul of 101–102 A.D., Q. Caelius Honoratus, the Baths were built at the sanctuary of Apollo, through subscription of the citizens; No 111: A paved road, which already existed, is said to have been extended by Trajan; No 124: An ex-voto of Sextus Cornelius Tuchicus to Apollo Hylates ans Apollo Caesar, A.D. 102–117(?); No 144: A dedication to Apollo Hylates and Apollo Caesar on behalf of Timo, adopted daughter of Timon, son of Onesilos, and daughter of Timo, also known as Phoibada. A.D. 100–110. M. Kantirea, “Apollon Hylates et Apollon César”, 274: “Il nous semble donc que le nom du nouveau dieu – Ἀπόλλων Καῖσαρ – de Kourion était la traduction grecque de l’expression latine Apollo Caesaris (ou Apollo Augusti), c’est-à-dire l’Apollon impérial ou l’Apollon (protecteur ou tutelaire) de l’émpereur”. Cf. T. B. Mitford, "Roman Cyprus", Temporini H. (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der romischen Welt II. 7. 2., Berlin/New York 1980, 1349 and n. 302: At Salamis Augustus appears as Zeus Caesar. The assimilation is certain, because Caius and Lucius are said to be the sons of Zeus Caesar; cf. D.W. Bradeen & M.F. McGregor (eds.), Phoros: tribute to Benjamin Dean Meritt, Locust Valley N.Y 1974, 110-114.

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name of Caesar would probably convey all the political features of the Emperor Trajan as they were established in Rome. As it is well known, Trajan acceded to the throne through the legal procedure of the adoptio by Nerva in the second half of October of 97 A.D. This procedure was implemented for the first time, replacing the traditional heredity concept which regulated the succession inside the gens Iu­ lio­Claudia.25 The reason why the choice fell to Trajan is the fact that he was the optimus leader of his time, and not an absolute, strong master. Optimus he was already privately declared before October 98 A.D.,26 when he was also called pater patriae. From January 98 to about October 99 A.D. Trajan was absent from Rome, in Germany and Pannonia, carrying out the inspection of the troops. But although the first year of his reign in Rome is 99 A.D., it is only in the next year 100 A.D. that he had to receive the ideological legitimisation of his charisma before the Senate. It was, accordingly, Pliny the Younger (cos. 100 A.D.) who in his famous Panegyricus (in fact the public actio gratiarum to the Emperor) immortalised the military and political virtues of Trajan – though not so profoundly the social policy Trajan began to develop towards the plebs (frumentationes, congiarium, alimenta, dona­ tivum).27 The Panegyricus was delivered in 100 A.D.; it was published a year later and presumably was disseminated to all the Provinces signalling the opening of a new era, which sought to break down the tyrannic government of Domitian (81–96 A.D.), marked by the theocratic aspects of his régime.28 The speech is addressed 25

26

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Plin. Paneg. 5, 1: Talem esse oportuit quem non bella civilia, nec armis oppressa res publica, sed pax et adoptio et tandem exorata terris numina dedissent; cf. Paneg. 7, 1: O novum atque inauditum ad principatum iter; cf. 7, 3–4: suscepisti imperium, postquam alium suscepti paenitebat. Nulla adoptati cum eo qui adoptabat cognatio, nulla necessitudo, nisi quod uterque optimus erat, dignusque alter eligi alter eligere. Plin. Paneg. 2, 6: Et populus quidem Romanus dilectum principum servat, quantoque paulo ante concentu formosum alium, hunc fortissimum personat, quibusque aliquando clamoribus gestum alterius et vocem, huius pietatem abstinentiam mansuetudinem laudat. From 103 A.D. Trajan appears as optimus on coins and from July 114 he takes the title optimus in the inscriptions; cf. Dio 48, 23, 1. Plin. Paneg. 1, 2: Qui mos cui potius quam consuli aut quando magis usurpandus colendusque est, quam cum imperio senatus, auctoritate rei publicae ad agendas optimo principi gratias excitamur? ; cf. Paneg. 4, 1: Sed parendum est senato consulto quod ex utilitate publica placuit, ut consulis voce sub titulo gratiarum agendarum boni principes quae facerent recognoscerent, mali quae facerent deberent; cf. Paneg. 4, 4: Saepe ego mecum, patres conscripti, tacitus agitavi, qualem quantumque esse oportret, cuius dicione nutuque maria terrae, pax bella regerentur; cf. 4, 5: Enituit aliquis in bello, sed obsolevit in pace; cf. 4, 6: Ut nihil severitati eius hilaritate, nihil gravitati simplicitate, nihil maiestati humanitate detrahitur; for his social policy, Paneg. 25, 2; cf. R. Syme, “The Imperial Finances under Domitian, Nerva and Trajan”, JRS 20, 1930, 55–70; cf. M. Torelli, Typology and Structure of the Roman Historical Relief (Jerome Lectures XIV), Ann Arbor 1982. Tacitus, Juvenalis and Pliny the Younger are notoriously full of hatred against Domitian. On the campaign of Domitian against the Germani in 83 A.D. Tac. Agr. 39, 1; Tac. Germ. 37; Plin. Paneg. 16, 3: Accipiet ergo aliquando Capitolium non mimicos currus nec falsae simulacra victoriae, sed imperatorem veram ac solidam gloriam reportantem; cf. Paneg. 20, 4; for the ideology of Domitian, some notes in R. Bianchi Bandinelli – M. Torelli, L’ arte dell’ antichità classica, Etruria – Roma, Turin 1976, 89–91.

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to Trajan as Caesar Imperator Germanicus.29 Pliny stresses right from the beginning the salient characteristic of his government: Paneg. 2, 3:30 Nusquam ut deo, nusquam ut numini blandiamur: non enim de tyranno sed de cive, non de domino sed de parente loquimur. Unum ille se ex nobis – et hoc magis excellit atque eminet, quod unum ex nobis putat, nec minus hominem se quam hominibus praeesse me­ minit. Intellegamus ergo bona nostra dignosque nos illis usu probemus, atque iden­ tidem cogitemus, quam sit indignum, si maius principibus praestemus obsequium, qui servitute civium quam qui libertate laetantur. Soon afterwards (2, 7), Pliny will be more explicit on the matter of the divinitas of the Emperor:31 Quid nos ipsi? Divinitatem principis nostri, an humanitatem temperantiam facilitatem, ut amor et gaudium tulit, celebrare universi solemus? Iam quid tam civile tam senatorium, quam illud additum a nobis Optimi cognomen? Trajan in 100 A.D. is by no means a God, as it was inherent in the manner of address demanded from the populus by Domitian, under the formula of dominus et deus noster. Trajan is a Roman civis – unus ex nobis – who values the libertas of his subject, instead of the servitus. But what is of importance for the case of Kourion is that the imperial cult has to be superseded by the humanitas of the Emperor, because Trajan is simply the Optimus Princeps among cives and senatores.32 It cannot be fortuitous coincidence that the works for the building programme in Cyprus, as far as the radical reconstruction of the sanctuary of Apollo Hylates is concerned, took place in exactly 100–101 A.D. We can safely deduce that instructions came directly from Rome to the Proconsul of Cyprus, Q. Laberius Iustus Cocceius Lepidus, in order to present to the Cypriots the human – and not the divine – face of the new Emperor, whose example respects the Constitution and the Senate, and rejects the nominal association with Apollo even in the East, where the practice of the imperial cult imposed, from the time of Augustus onwards, the deification of the Emperor during life. There is no other intention in Kourion other than the veiled deification of the Roman political face of Caesar Trajan, without any explicit quotation of his name. Q. Laberius Iustus Coc­ ceius Lepidus had been legatus ad principem in Germany after the death of Nerva in January 98 A.D.33 He was evidently a relative of the Emperor M. Cocceius 29

30 31

32

33

Plin. Paneg. 9, 3: Paruisti enim, Caesar, et ad principatum obsequio parvenisti, nihilque magis a te subiecti animo factum est quam quod imperare coepisti, iam Caesar iam imperator iam Germanicus. The title Germanicus was assumed by both Nerva and Trajan either at the end of 97 or in 98, after the negotiations with the Bructeri. “Let us then appreciate our good fortune and prove our worth by our use of it, and at the same time remember that there can be no merit if greater deference is paid to rulers who delight in the servitude of their subjects than to those who value their liberty”. “What about us ? Is it the divine nature of our prince or his humanity, his moderation and his courtesy with joy and affection which prompte us to celebrate in a single voice? Surely nothing could reveal him as citizen and senator more appropriately than the title bestowed on him of Optimus”. The behaviour of Trajan as the princeps who at the same time is a citizen has been studied by A. Wallace-Hadrill, “Civilis Princeps: Between Citizen and King”, JRS 72, 1982, 32–48; cf. F. Millar, “Trajan: Government by Correspondence”, Government, Society and Culture in the Roman Empire, Chaper Hill/London 2004, 28-34. Cf. R. Bagnall – Th. Drew-Bear, “Documents from Kourion”, 231 and n. 63: “But Petersen advances the correct explanation: Legatione extraordinaria procul dubio post Antonium Saturn-

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Nerva, as the third gentilicium Cocceius makes evident, who took part in the deputation of Senators sent to accompany Trajan from the Rhine to Rome. We cannot say more precisely why he was sent by Trajan to administrate Cyprus, soon after such a legatio, and why he intervened in the sanctuary of Apollo.34 What is odd is why we have exactly in Kourion such a reflection of what occurred in Rome in the shifting balance of the powership established between the new Emperor and the Senate.35 We cannot respond with certainty as to why the ascension of Trajan to the throne is registered in Kourion, and particularly in the sanctuary of Apollo. This is the essence of the question that must be answered. G. di Vita-Evrard in studying the consular career of L. Licinius Sura has demonstrated that the great homme d’état of Trajan was proconsul Asiae in 100–101 A.D., in any case during the preparations for the first Dacian expedition which would run from March 101 to the end of 102 A.D.36 This is a very important conclusion, because C. P. Jones brought to light the nature of the interest bestowed by Trajan upon the famous sanctuary of Apollo at

34

35 36

inum, legatum Germaniae superioris, a. 89, mense ut videtur Ianuario, debellatum, functus est”. This is clearly wrong. Q. Laberius Iustus Cocceius Lepidus, after his proconsulate in Cyprus, must have taken residence in Rome; PIR2 L 7; W. Eck, Tra epigrafia, prosopografia e archeologia. Scritti scelti, rielaborati ed aggiornati, Roma 1996, 69, n. 133, L. 2. We possess a very important inscription from Rome (CIL VI 1440 = 41108), which includes the cursus honorum of this high personality of the family of Laberii Iusti Cocceii. It was found ad S. Sebastianum in via Appia. A new fragment of the inscription came to light during the excavations in the ex vigna Chiaraviglio (AE 2001, no 553, p. 185), which testifies that the senator had a praedium in the II/III mile of the Via Appia; cf. L. Chioffi, “I patrimoni dei senatori nel suburbio di Roma: Criteri di ricerca epigrafica, primi risultati e nuove acquisizioni”, Cahiers Glotz XVI, 2005, 102, n. 5. The complete text (slab from galerie F7, arcosolium Fs, T. 67, in three fragments: 46 X 73 X 3.5 cm), permitting to reconstruct his cursus hon., runs as follows: [Q.] Laberio L. f. Aem(ilia) Iusto | [C]occeio Lepido proco(n)s(uli) Cypri | praet(ori) tr(ibuno) pl(ebis) quaest(ori) leg(ato) pro pr(aetore) | Asiae leg(ato) propr(aetore) Africae leg(ato) ex s(enatus) c(onsulto) | misso ad principem trib(uno) mil(itum) leg(ionis) XXII | Primig(eniae) Xvir)o) stlit(ibus) iudic(andis) | Apollonius limenarches | Cypri. The dedicant is Apollonios, presumably a Cypriot, who must have followed his patronus to Rome. Nevertheless, by the time of the dedication he was still limenarches of Cyprus; cf. R. Giuliani – F. M. Tommasi – M. Giannitrapani – M. Ricciardi, “Nuove indagini nella catacomba della ex vigna Chiaraviglio sulla via Appia. Relazione delle campagne di scavo nella regione F (1997/1999)”, RAC 77, 2001, 97–362, 210–213; for the relationships of the Laberii Maximi with the seaborn activities, P. Garofalo, “M. Laberius e la dedica alle Tempeste (CIL XIV 2093)”, Giornata di studi per L. Gasperini, 2010, 211–234. It is about the procurator Iudaeae in 71, praef(ectus) ann(onae) in 80 and praef(ectus) Aeg(ypti) in 82 A.D., probably for having supplied Rome with grain from Egypt. In any case, the Laberii Maximi and the Laberii Iusti Cocceii became related branches of the great senatorial family of Laberii; cf. Ch. Settipani, Continuité gentilice et continuité familiale dans les familles senatoriales romaines à l’époque impériale, Prosopographica et Genealogica, vol. 2, Oxford 2000. Addenda I–III (juillet 2000- octobre 2002): http://users.ox.ac.uk/~prosop/publications/volume-two.pdf. Plin. Paneg. 4, 2: Id nunc eo magis sollemne ac necessarium est, quod parens noster privatas gratiarum actiones cohibet et comprimit, intercessurus etiam publicis, si permitteret sibi vetare quod senatus iuberet. L. Licinius Sura had as his legatus proconsulis P. Calvisius Ruso Iulius Frontinus; cfr. G. di Vita-Evrard, “Des Calvisii Rusones à Licinius Sura”, MEFRA 99, 1987, 281–338.

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Didyma in Miletus.37 The Emperor financed the Sacred Way which allied Miletus to the Didymaion at the beginning of the summer of 100 A.D, in other words during the proconsulate of L. Licinius Sura. By commenting on an otherwise obscure passage of Dio of Prusa (45, 4), Jones underlies the existence of an uncertain oracle given to Trajan in Asia Minor, which would have predicted his ascension to the ecumenic power.38 He thinks, therefore, that the oracle was in fact given by the Milesian Apollo. Consequently, di Vita-Evrard did not fail to observe that Trajan expressed the same devotion in the same year towards Apollo at Kourion, too, just after his reign had begun, in 100–101 A.D. The reason for this exclusive predilection of Trajan for Apollo of Miletus and Apollo of Kourion in that year 100–101 A.D. has not been up till now explained. It could be tied with an Apollinean saecu­ lum of 100 years for a new regnum Apollinis after that of Augustus celebrated in 17 B.C.39 It might also be hidden behind a common oracular structure, both in Miletus and Kourion, but morever it must have been rooted in certain common features of the two cults of Apollo, linking Cyprus with the original places of Apollo in Asia Minor. A legend told by Strabo (XIV 6, 3 = C 952), which is confirmed by Aelian (de nat. anim. XI 7), connects the cult of Kourion with a herd of deer reaching the sanctuary of Apollo Hylates through marvellous swimming from the cave of Cory37

38

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C. P. Jones, “An Oracle given to Trajan”, Chiron 5, 1975, 403-6; cf. N. Ehrhardt – P. Weiss, “Trajan, Didyma und Milet. Neue Fragmente von Kaiserbriefen und ihr Kontext”, Chiron 25, 1995, 315–353: The letter which was inscribed second dates to the second half of 99 (cos. II, cos. design. III), while the first was dated “Eight days before the Ides of January”, on 6 January 100 A.D. Dio 45, 4: Ταῦτα δὲ εἰ μέν ἐστι χρήσιμα μεγάλα, [ἢ] μὴ πολλοῖς ὑπάρξαντα ἑτέροις ἀλλὰ μιᾷ πόλει, καὶ ταύτῃ σχεδόν τι τῶν ἐλλογιμωτάτων κατὰ τὴν Ἀσίαν καὶ τηλικοῦτον ἐχούσῃ δίκαιον πρὸς τὸν αὐτοκράτορα, τοῦ θεοῦ παρ᾽ἐκείνοις μαντευσαμένου καὶ προειπόντος τὴν ἡγεμονίαν αὐτῷ καὶ πρώτου πάντων ἐκείνου φανερῶς αὐτὸν ἀποδείξαντος τῶν ὅλων κύριον· Claudius celebrated the Sixth Ludi Saeculares in honour of Apollo in 47 A.D., taking as measure of time five saecula of 110 years. Suetonius reminds the objections of Claudius against Augustus, who would not have respected this new computing for the Fifth Ludi: Claud. 21, 4: fecit et saeculares, quasi anticipatos nec legitimo tempori reservatos, quamvis ipse in historiis suis prodat, intermissos eos Augustum multo post diligentissime annorum ratione subducta in ordinem redegisse. It is highly probable that Trajan had intended to celebrate i Ludi Saeculares by respecting the introduction by Augustus of the new saeculum on the occasion of the Ludi Saeculares of 17 B.C. (cf. the commentarii of the XV viri and the edicta of Augustus), which denoted the beginning of the new era, corresponding to the regnum Apollinis of Augustus himself; cf. Th. Mavrojannis, “Apollo Delio, Atene e Augusto”, Ostraka VIII, 1995, 85–102; J. F. Miller, Apollo, Augustus, and the Poets, Cambridge 2009, 253–297; cf. G. La Bua, review of the previous book, Gnomon 84.1, 2012, 20–25. But if it was a saeculum of 110 years we would expect the celebration of the Seventh Ludi Saeculares in 93 A.D., under Domitian. For Trajan – “New Augustus” – it was possible to adopt only the previous saeculum of 100 years, typical for the saecula of the Res publica, thus bringing about the celebration of Apollo in 103 A.D. Though the calculus of Claudius was adopted by Antoninus Pius and Philippus Arabus, we can infer that Trajan prepared the celebration of the Ludi Saeculares in 100, 101 and 102 A.D. in Miletus and Kourion, in the provincia Asiae and in the provincia Cypri; cf. F. Coarelli, “Note sui Ludi Saeculares”, Spectacles sportifs et scéniques dans le monde étrusco-italique (Collection de l’École Française de Rome 172), Rome 1993, 211–224.

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cos in Cilicia. In reconstructing the statue of cult of Apollo Didymaios M.-V. Strocka has stressed the passage of Pliny the Elder who describes the original work of Canachos at the beginning of 5th c. B.C. (nat. hist. XXXIV 75), as depicting Apollo with a running alongside deer. This could be the ritual connection between Miletus and Kourion – the deerherd of Apollo of Asia Minor – although it does not explain the political importance of Cyprus, and especially of Kourion, for Trajan at the precise moment of his ascension.40 Pliny had tried to support and explain the difference between the Emperors before Trajan, who sanctioned their position by oracles, and Trajan himself, as he obtained the kingdom through only his virtue.41 Nevertheless, it was a diffused practice in the East to consult the major oracles by those Romans who were seeking to achieve power, as happened with Titus and the oracle of Aphrodite Paphia in Cyprus in 69 A.D., just before the ascension of his father Vespasian to the throne.42 Finally to answer the question regarding the political presence of Apollo Caesar especially at Kourion: It seems logical to conclude that in 100 A.D. Trajan was making plans for reorganisation of the Eastern Provinces of Asia (Syria, Iudaea), by holding Cyprus, including perhaps the first thoughts for the annexation of Arabia Petraea, with a view a decisive expedition to be moved against the Parthians, which he would undertake only in 113–114 A.D. This is the reason, his Proconsul of Cyprus of 113–114 A.D., Q. Seppius Celer M. Titius Sas­ sius Candidus, returns to pay attention, under orders received by Trajan, who had meanwhile reached Antioch, to the sanctuary of Apollo Hylates, in order to complete the building programme of 100–101 A.D. It is now the architectural feature of the Nabataean capitals of the Temple of Apollo Hylates which deserves an explanation, since these capitals constitute the very particular cultural distinction, not only of the Roman temple of Apollo Hylates in Kourion, but also of the Roman temple of Aphrodite in Amathus. 27.5 ARCHITECTURAL PATTERNS FOR THE TEMPLE OF APOLLO AT KOURION

40 41

42

M.-V. Strocka, “Der Apollo des Kanachos in Didyma und der Beginn des Strengen-Stils”, JdI 117, 2002, 81–125. Another oracle will be given to Trajan just before his expedition against the Parthians by the sanctuary of Juppiter Optimus Maximus Heliopolitanus at Baalbeck in 113 A.D. Macrobius in the Saturnalia (I 23, 14) attesting the consulting of the oracle by Trajan, assimilates the Sol of Heliupolis with Apollo, the favourable numen of Trajan already in 100–101 A.D. Cf. Plin. Paneg. 5, 3: Nam ceteros principes aut largus cruor hostiarum aut sinister volatus avium consulentibus nuntiavit; tibi ascendenti de more Capitolium quamquam non id agentium civium clamor ut iam principi occurrit. Tac. Hist. II 2–4; (2) Atque illum cupido incessit adeundi visendique templum Paphiae Veneris, inclitum per indigenas advenasque.(4) Sostratus (sacerdotis id nomen erat) ubi laeta et congruentia exta magnisque consultis adnuere deam videt, pauca in praesens et solita respondens, petito secreto futura aperit; cf. Suet. Tit. 5, 1; M. Kantirea, “L’oracle d’Aphrodite à Paphos et l’ascension des Flaviens à l’Empire”, Mediterraneo Antico X, 2007, 447–460.

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For D. Soren, the Nabataean capitals of Kourion, which seem to us in 100 A.D. to form a distinct cultural connotation, bringing forth a political message, find their full development in the Nabataean kingdom of Arabia (c. 169 B.C. – 106 A.D.)43, where they first appear in Petra, most probably in the second middle of the 1st c. B.C., though their origin might be envisaged in the Alexandrian patterns of the late Hellenistic Corinthian capital. He has tried, accordingly, to come to the point by reviewing the known samples, starting with the rock-cut façades of the tombs in Petra and those magnificent tombs at Mada’in Shalih, the ancient Hegra – Egra, in the desertic rose cliffs of the Hedjaj near Medina44 (Fig. 17). The earliest rock-cut monuments at Hegra – the Pylon type Tomb B6 in the typology of Brünnow-Domaszewski – are dated by Soren in the 1st c. B.C. By evaluating the inscriptions of these tombs, Bowersock had calculated that all belong to the 1st c. A.D., and the majority to the first half of the 1st c. A.D., therefore at the time of King Aretas IV (9/8 B.C. – 40 A.D.), while the earliest inscription is certainly datable to 1 A.D. (or to 1 B.C., according to Patrich), since it mentioned ‘the ninth year’ of Aretas (Tomb B6). The latest Tomb with capitals IA Patrich (Tomb B23) is dated to 50 A.D. The latest Tomb with capitals IB Patrich (E3) is dated to 76 A.D. The years 1 B.C. – 1 A.D. constitute a terminus ante quem for the formation of all the Nabataean types in the Arabic settlement of Hegra. The major monuments of Petra cannot be but contemporaries, and more probably earlier. Soren, in order to prove the derivation of the raw type of plain-faced capital from the late Alexandrian Corinthian capital, adduced the capitals of the Temple of Augustus on the island of Philae in the First Catarract of the Nile in Asswan (Fig. 14). The construction of this Temple began after 26 B.C. but it was finished in 13/12 B.C. It is a tetrastyle prostyle temple on a 43

44

The King’s List of the Nabateans includes: Aretas I (c. 168 B.C.), Aretas II (c. 120–96 B.C.), Obodas I (c. 96–85 B.C.), Rabbel I (c. 85–84 B.C.), Aretas III Philhellen (84–62 B.C.), Obodas II (62–59 B.C.), Malichus I (59–30 B.C.), Obodas III (30–9 B.C.), Aretas IV (9 B.C. – 40 A.D.), Malichus II (40–70 A.D.), Rabbel II (70–106 A.D.); G. Bowersock, Roman Arabia, Cambridge/ London 1983, 19942, passim; Z. T. Fiema – R. Jones, “The Nabataean King-List Revised: Further Observations on the Second Nabataean Inscription from Tell esh-Shuqafiyeh in Egypt”, Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 34, 1990, 239–248. D. Soren, The sanctuary of Apollo Hylates at Kourion, Cyprus, Tucson 1987, 206–216, has accepted the three types of Nabataeans funerary monuments discerned by R.E. Brünnow – A. von Domaszewski, Die Provincia Arabia, Strassburg 1904: A) The earliest architectural type (late 1st c. B.C.) – and the most simple – is the Pylon type, with pilasters flanking a door and a high cornice bearing an Egyptian stepped crenelation (Brünnow-Domaszewski, Pl. 152–154); B) The Hegra type (1st c. A.D.), less Egyptian and more Classical, where the Nabataean capitals are engaged on a façade with pilasters at the corners and in the middle of a composition flanking a door having a classical entablature; C) The Temple tomb type or Roman Temple Tombs (late 1st c. A.D. into the 2nd s. A.D.), the most elaborate, which presents a double entablature in height as crowning motif of the facade repeating the Nabataean capitals, as far reaching the gable; J. McKenzie, The Architecture of Petra, Oxford 1990, 2005 reprint, 11–31, Pl. 2–19; cf. N. I. Khairy, “The Mada’in Saleh monuments and the function and date of the Khazneh in Petra”, Palestine Exploration Quarterly 143, 2011, 167–175; cf. A. Schmidt-Colinet, "A Nabatean Family of Sculptors at Hegra", Berytus XXXI, 1983, 95–102; cf. Z.T. Fiema, “Remarks on the Sculptors from Hegra”, JNES 46, 1987, 49–60; cf. on the inscriptions, J. Taylor, Petra and the Lost kingdom of the Nabataeans, Cambridge 2002, 147–172.

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high podium approached by a flight of stairs. The columns and the antae carry Alexandrian late Hellenistic Corinthian capitals, while the two pilasters at the corners carry Nabataean capitals. Columns, antae and pilasters share a similar base. This is a clear proof that the two types of capitals coexisted in Egypt at the time of Augustus, as O. Callot had accurately remarked45. It constitutes another tenable point for understanding the chronology, the origin and the stages leading to the formation of the Nabataean capitals. At first sight, it looks as though there was a chronological priority of Egypt in the formation of the type46. But Soren could not take into account what the excavations of Masada in Judaea had produced, where several fragmentary plain-faced Nabataean capitals were found, near the casemate wall in the southern part of the fortification, as well as near the main bath (Fig. 9). Some structural differentiations of the shape from the regular Nabataean type A capital, pointed out by J. Patrich, cannot change the chronological implications to be drawn by the Judaean evidence. The fortification wall is well dated to the time of Herod the Great (40 or 39 to 4 B.C.), thus attesting an early stage in the fabrication process – much or less contemporary to Philae and to Petra – to be certainly connected to the building activities of Herod.47 Decades have passed between the Egyptian – Nabataean – Herodian patterns and the appearance of the classical Nabataean form of the late 1st c. A.D. This is in part confirmed by the arrangement that occurred in the Nabataean sanctuary on the mountain slopes of Sih’ in the Hawran (Σεεῖα κατὰ γῆν Αὑρανεῖτιν) some thirty km North-West from the Nabataean city of Bosra (3 km South-East of Qanawat – Canatha). Here, in the so-called sanctuary of Baalshamin and Dusara, the Great temple of the sacred precinct (8.6 X 7.6 m, into a courtyard of 24 X 50 m), which was dedicated to Baalshamin, is well dated after the Seleucid era, in the years between 33/32 and 2/1 B.C. The second 45 46

47

O. Callot, “Élements d’architecture romaine à Larnaca”, RDAC 1988, 223–227. Cf. J. Patrich, “The Formation of the Nabataean Capital”, K. Fittschen – G. Foerster (eds.), Judaea and the Greco-Roman World in the Time of Herod in the Light of the Archaeological Evidence, Göttingen 1996, 206: “This fact, as well as the Alexandrian features in the appearance of the Corinthian-Nabataean capitals, emphasizes the role that the artisans from Hellenistic Roman Egypt might have played in the formation and emergence of the plain-faced capital in Petra as well as in fashioning there the floral heterodox capitals, known as Corinthian-Nabataean”; cf. A. Hérmary, who held the view that there was a common Egyptian primary source for the Nabataean and the Cypriot capitals, seems to gain some support. J. Patrich, “The Formation of the Nabataean Capital”, 208–209: “As for the plain-faced capital, the vicinity of the Nabataen kingdom no doubt contributed to an increasing fondness in Judea also for this inchoate capital shape. However, in light of the links between the plain-faced capital from Masada and the Herodian Corinthian capital on the one hand, and the differences between the Herodian Corinthian and the Nabataean Corinthian capitals on the other, there is no doubt that the “Nabataean” capitals from Masada were not fabricated by Nabataean artisans. The fabrication processes of the Corinthian capital here, as well as in other places, led to the emergence of a plain-faced, “Nabataean” capital. Slight differences in the fabrication processes of the Corinthian capital between Nabatea and Judea are the clue for understanding the differences between the “Nabataea” capitals from Masada ant the real Nabatean capitals”; cf. ibid., “The plain-faced capitals from Masada, as well as the Corinthian capitals there, are connected with the building activities of Herod. We have indicated above that in Petra the regular Nabatean capitals were fabricated for the first time in the same period”.

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Temple, enclosed a trapezoidal courtyard, was finished a little later, in the time of Herod Agrippa II (50–95 A.D.), more probably still under Claudius. It is now attributed by Dentzer not to Dusares, as Butler had suggested, but to Tyche. The third Temple to the South, which was hitherto unidentified, has been recently assigned by D. Graf to Dusares.48 The Great Temple does not present Nabatean capitals. But the third Temple (19.3 X 8.3 m) has a tetrastyle ground plan on a podium (h. 2,5 m), perfectly similar to that of the temple of Kourion (Fig. 16). The columns carry Nabataean capitals, though of an irregular variant of Type IB Patrich (with leaflets attached under the horns), following closely the prototypes from Petra and Mada’in Salih, while the pilaster capitals are Alexandrian late Hellenistic Corinthian. According to Dentzer and Graf, it is to be dated to the time of Rabbel II, thus between 71 and 106 A.D., rather than to the Antonine period, as H.C. Butler had thought.49 If in the Augustean Age we have Nabataean capitals in Egypt, in Nabatea and in Judaea, but not in the Hawran, where they appeared in the late 1st c. A.D., at the same time as in Cyprus, the final assertion of A. Hérmary seems to be weakening: “En fait, les chapiteaux “nabatéens” sont beaucoup plus repandu à Chypre qu’on ne pourrait croire …, ce qui n’éxclut pas que Chypre ait joué un rôle dans la création et à la diffusion de ce type d’architecture”.50 The Cypriot examples are much later 48

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F. Graf, “The Syrian Hauran”, F. Graf. (ed.), Rome and the Arabian Frontier: from the Nabataeans to the Saracens, Aldershot Hamshire 1997, 2–3. The works in the adjacent courtyard with the second Temple, entered by the “Porte Nabatéenne”, must have been finished in 29/30 A.D., during Philip’s tetrarchy, as is confirmed by an Aramaic dedication (PPUAS IV A, no 101); the outer court of the enclosure had as entrance a monumental Arch dated to the end of the Antonine or early Severan period. The edict of Herod Agrippa I (10 B.C. – 44 A.D., and not of Agrippa II, as Graf) is written on the blocks of the front wall of the Temple. At the entrance of the second Temple has been discovered the statue of a goddess and an Aramaic-Greek inscription mentioning the “image of Shi”, probably the statue of Tyche-Fortuna; cf. J. M. Dentzer, “A propos du temple dit de “Dushares” à Sî”, Syria 56, 1979, 325–332; cf. A. Kropp, “Limits of Hellenisation: Pre-Roman basalt temples in the Hauran”, International Congress of Classical Archaeology, Rome 2008, 4–11. H. C. Butler, Publications of the Princeton University Archaeological Expedition to Syria in 1904–5 and 1909. Division II. Ancient Architecture in Syria. Section A. Southern Syria (1907– 1919), Princeton 1919, II A 6, Ill. 341; J.-M. Dentzer – F. Braemer – J. Dentzer-Feydy – J. Villeneuve, “Six campagnes de fouilles à Si’ : Développement et culture indigène en Syrie méridionale”, MDAI(D) 2, 1985, 65–83; J. Dentzer-Feydy, “Décor architectural et développement du Hauran dans l’Antiquité”, J-M. Dentzer (ed.), Hauran I. Recherches Archéologiques sur la Syrie du Sud à l’époque Hellénistique et Romaine 2, Paris 1986, 261-309, 405: “une offrande de prestige vraisemblablement faite par Rabbel II”; J. Dentzer-Feydy, “Le site et le sanctuaire de Si”, J.-M. Dentzer – J. Dentzer-Feydy (eds.), Le Djebel al-‘Arab. Histoire et patrimoine au Musée de Suweida, Paris 1991, 45–48, 46; on the capitals, J. McKenzie, The Architecture of Petra, 116–117: They do not apparently fit into the typologies of Petran capitals, but s. J. Patrich. A. Hérmary, “Les fouilles de la Mission Française à Amathonte (1980–1983), RDAC 1984, 276: “l’origine de ce type de chapiteau est en réalité mal définie, et l’on songerait volontiers qu’il a pu naître en Égypte si l’on possedait d’autres points de comparaison que le petit temple d’Auguste à Philae; ibid., n. 22; cf. A. Hérmary, “Les fouilles françaises d’Amathonte”, op. cit. infra n. 51, p. 188: “les plus beaux exemples connus du style dit “nabatéen”. Attestés aussi à Salamine, à Kition et à Kourion, les chapiteaux de ce type sont probablement dérivés de modèles ptolémaïques, diffusés largement en Nabatène (Bosra, Petra, et jusqu’à Hegra en Ara-

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than the afore-mentioned specimens and they mark the latest stage of the diffusion of the type from the earlier and primary centres of manufacture. If they are of a much more elegant shape, it is because they constitute a renewal of the tradition within new historical parameters. These must be the new Nabataean capitals of Rabbel II. A. Hérmary is mainly referring to the Roman temple of Aphrodite at Amathus, of the late 1st c. A.D., too. This temple, like the temple at Kourion and the temple at Si’, is a prostyle tetrastyle building, greater on the bottom step of the krepis than that of Kourion (31.87 X 15.12 m.; in Kourion 14.80 X 9.20 m.), which presents in the front the same decorative feature of four fluted columns bearing Nabataean capitals (Fig. 12). The chronology of the building is still debated, since it would fall into a wide margin, between 70 and 100 A.D, in any case during the reign of Rabbel II, once again.51 The gap must be filled. Three silver denarii “trouvés lors du nettoyages sur le rocher dans le carré MU 265, à l’emplacement du mur séparant le pronaos de la cella du temple”, which are dated in 69 A.D. (Othon, MayApril), in 72/73 A.D. (Vespasian) and in 74 A.D. (Vespasian), would demonstrate that “la construction du mur séparant le pronaos de la cella a été entreprise vers le début du dernier quart du Ier siècle”. But as Hérmary himself notices for the carré MS 262 “La céramique sigillée … mais quelques tessons, comme le fragment de cruche en sigillée orientale A no 79.933.51 et le fragment d’assiette en sigillée chypriote no 79.935.43 ne sont pas antérieurs à la 2e moitié du Ier s. et pourraient même dater du début du IIe s.”.52 The coins can attest only that the Temple was built after Vespasian (69–79 A.D.). Terminus post quem, judging by the ceramics, is the end of the 1st and the beginning of the 2nd c. A.D. On the other hand, the Nabataean capitals at Kourion and Amathus are unquestionably of the same type, since they have the same profile in the horizontal section, though they are not of the same size. At the place of the volutes of a normal developed Corinthian capital, two simplified but very elegant horns are projecting by the abacus, like ears, while in the centre of the concave face, which is plain, a boss is emerging. These are features that they were already recurring in Nabataean architecture in the last decades of the 1st c. B.C.53.

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bie), mais inconnus sur la côte syro-phénicienne, comme, bien sûr, en Asie Mineure et en Grèce”; of the same opinion already D. Soren, The sanctuary of Apollo Hylates, 208–210. A. Hérmary, “La date du temple d’Aphrodite à Amathonte”, BCH 118, 2, 1994, 321–330; cf. A. Hérmary, “Les fouilles françaises d’Amathonte”, M. Yon (ed.), Kinyras. L’archéologie française à Chypre , Lyon 1993, 188: “ce bâtiment a été édifié entre la deuxième moitié du Ier s. ap. J.-C. et la première moitié du IIe s.”; cf. A. Hérmary – M. Schmidt, “11. Le sanctuaire d’Aphrodite – Le grand temple de la fin du Ier s. ap. J.-C.”, P. Aupert (École française d'Athènes; sous la direction de), Guide d’Amathonte (Sites et Monuments XV), Athens/Paris 1996, 122– 129. A. Hérmary, “La date du temple d’Aphrodite à Amathonte”, 327–328. I cannot discuss here in extento the stratigraphical data, but I notice that: “La fouille, en 1984, du même remblai dans la partie Sud de la berme MS-MT 262a donné des résultats comparables : le fragment de vase fermé décoré à la roulette no 84.577.4 est du même type que 79.933.51, et le fragment de pied no 84.577.19 peut être situé aussi vers la fin du Ier ap. ou le début du IIe s. ; enfin, le fragment de lampe no 84.578.2 n’est sans doute pas antérieur au début du IIe s. ap. J.-C.”. Nevertheless, he poses the question: “Est-on pour autant autorisé à penser que le temple a été construit d’un seul jet, et selon un programme clairement défini, entre 75/80 et les premières années du IIe s.?” After the pioneer’s work of D. Soren came the studies of J. Patrich to determine the typology

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In ascertaining the obvious individuality of this decoration, most scholars, despite the strong similarities to the Nabataean elaborated patterns of the 1st c. A.D. and high quality of the Cypriot capitals, in Kourion as well as in Amathus, did not assign to the Cypriot temples the qualification “Nabataean temples”. Anyway, it is very positive that A. Hérmary puts forward the correct proposal that the temples of Kourion and Amathus must be contemporaries, even if only “à peu près”.54 This conclusion is from the point of view of Roman History very probable. What cannot be true is the name of Cypriot-Corinthian used for the classical Nabataean capitals, by supposing even a derivation of the type from Cyprus. Judging by the area of diffusion and by the first appearance of the capitals, the intention of the architects in Cyprus becomes evident: Adapting the decoration of these two major temples, during their reconstruction in the early years of Trajan, by introducing earlier architectural patterns which go back at least to the Augustean age, rather than creating a new original Cypriot schema.55

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and the classification of the Nabataean capitals. Unfortunately, he did not proceed to a more precise chronological arrangement of his Types and Groups, except from the samples from Masada, which are to be connected with the building activity of Herod the Great. Patrich recognizes two main Types: I. The Plain-faced capitals, Groups A-C; II. The Nabataean Corinthians capitals. Group IA has no leaflets below the horns, a typical feature of Type IB. IC Type has three main variants (IC, Sub-types 1–3). We present the mouldings and the sections in an Appendix (Fig. 11). A. Hérmary, “La date du temple d’Aphrodite à Amathonte”, 329: “Il y a donc toutes chances pour que les temples d’Amathonte et de Kourion soient à peu près contemporains, et qu’ils aient été conçus et réalisés par des équipes apparentées, sinon par la même équipe”. For Cyprus, A. Hérmary – M. Schmidt, “Le sanctuaire d’Aphrodite à Amathonte”, Actes du second congrès intérnational d’études chypriotes – 1983, Nicosia 1985, 1–23; cf. A. Hérmary, “L’architecture religieuse à Chypre à l’époque impériale : traditions et innovations”, Actes du colloque Musée de l’Homme 1982: Chypre. La vie quotidienne de l’Antiquité à nos jours, Nicosia 1985, 128–133; cf. the unfinished Nabataean capitals from the quarries of Xylophagou, O. Callot, “Élements d’architecture romaine à Larnaka”, 219–228; cf. G. R. H. Wright, “A Nabataean Capital in the Salamis Gymnasium and its possible Background”, Actes du premier congrès international d’archéologie chypriote – 1969, Nicosia 1972, 175–177; for a typology of these capitals, A. Schmidt-Colinet, “Dorisierende nabatäische Kapitelle”, MDAI(D) 1, 1983, 307–312; as pseudo-corinthian, cf. M. Lyttelton, Baroque Architecture in Classical Antiquity, London 1974, 80-81; for their origins from the Corinthian, D. Schlumberger, “Les formes anciennes du chapiteau corinthien en Syrie, en Palestine et en Arabie”, Syria 14, 1933, 233–312; D. Soren, The sanctuary of Apollo Hylates, 208; contra, as nothing to do with the corinthians capitals, cf. Hérmary, op. cit., 131–133; regarding the Nabataean kingdom, A. Negev, “Nabataean capitals in the towns of the Negev”, IEJ 21, 1974, 153–159; cf. J. Patrich, “The Development of the Nabataean Capital”, Eretz Israel 17, 1984, 291–304; A. Hérmary, “Chapiteaux à degrés à Amathonte”, RDAC, 1996, 89–94; J. Patrich, “The Formation of the Nabataean Capital”, 197–218; J. McKenzie, “Keys from Egypt and the East: Observations on Nabataean culture in the Light of Recent Discoveries”, BASOR 324, 2001, 97–112; for Gerasa, C.H. Kraeling, “The Nabatean Sanctuary at Gerasa”, BASOR 83, 1941, 7–14; R. Parapetti, “Capitelli nabatei a Gerasa”, Mesopotamia 33, 1998, 309–319; cf. P. Gros, L’architecture romaine 1. Les monuments publics, Paris 1996, 189; for Egypt, L. Borchardt, “Der Augustus Tempel auf Philae”, JDAI 18, 1903, 73–84; F. Laroche-Traunecker, “Chapiteaux “nabatéenes”, “corinthiens inachevés” ou “simplifiés?”, Ktema 25, 2000, 207–213.

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27.6 AMATHUS AND PHILAE IN THE POLITICAL PROJECT OF TRAJAN The Egyptian past of Amathus does not need to be commented on greatly. It is demonstrated above all by those beautiful pilaster-capitals that represent the image of Hathor, going back to the first half of the 5th c. B.C., and by three statues of the Egyptian ape called Bes (Louvre, Istanbul,56 Lemesos). These are distinct Egyptian divinities of Lower Egypt. The cradle of Hathor was the sanctuary at Dendera, where she received the attention of the Ptolemies. I have discussed the liaisons of Hathor of Dendera with the Aethiopians of Amathus, in her quality as interpretatio egyptiaca of Nemesis, in a paper published in Archaiologia (2008). What I could not then realise is the monumental arrangement on the island of Philae during Roman Imperial times, where the Nilometer marked the first appearance of the sources of Nile.57 The main temple of Philae was dedicated to Isis (Fig. 14). A second temple was consecrated to her son, Horus. But Isis was accompanied by Hathor, whose temple was erected on the eastern side of the island, adjacent to that of Isis. This temple, a colonnated hall preceded by a small courtyard, was built by Ptolemy VI Philometor (169–164 or 163–145 B.C.) and was finished by Ptolemy VIII Euergetes II Physkon (145–132/1 and 127/6–116 B.C.). The walls of the hall were decorated in the time of Augustus with scenes representing moments of the festivals in honour of Isis and Hathor. What is astonishing is that among the representation of people who eat, drink and dance Bes appears playing the harp and the tambourine. He is accompanied by other similar images of apes who play instruments or are dancing. Augustus himself is depicted offering sacrifices to Isis and Hathor. Augustus had his own temple in the sanctuary of Isis at Philae as σωτὴρ καὶ εὐεργέτης. In this temple the well known trilingual insription was discovered, dated to the year 29 B.C.,58 which refers to the deeds of the first praefectus Aegypti appointed by Augustus (30–27 B.C.), C. Cornelius Gallus who not only suppressed an Egyptian revolt in 29 B.C., but was driven forward beyond the 1st Cataract of the Nile, as the latin text eloquently says (CIL III 14147).59 The inscription attests the Roman pro56 57 58

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A. Hérmary, “Amathonte classique et hellénistique : la question du Bès colossal de l’agora”, P. Flourentzos (ed.), From Evagoras I to the Ptolemies, Nicosia 2007, 81–92. Senec. Quaest. Nat. IV A, 2, 7: primum incrementum Nili circa insulam quam modo rettuli, Philas nascitur. Exiguo ab hoc spatio petra dividitur, abaton Graeci vocant nec illam ulli nisi antistes calcant; illa primum saxa auctum fluminis sentiunt. E. Bresciani, “La stele trilingue di Cornelio Gallo: una rilettura egittologica”, Egitto e Vicino Oriente XII, 1989, 93–98; F. Hoffmann – M. Minas-Nerpel – S. Pfeiffer, Die dreisprachige Stele des C. Gallus (Archiv für Papyrusforschung, Beiheft 9), Berlin 2009; E. Bérnand, Les insrciptions grecques de Philae. Tome 1: Epoque ptolemaique, Paris 1969. CIL III 14147: exercitu ultra Nili | catarahacte[n] [transd]ucto | in quem locum neque | populo Romano neque | regibus Aegypti [arma] | [ante] [s]unt prolata | Thebaide communi | omn[i]um regum | formidine subact[a] | leg[atisque] [re]gis | Aethiopum ad Philas | auditis eoq[ue] rege in | tutelam recepto tyrann[o] | T[riacontas]choen[u] | unde Aethiopiae | constituto di[e][is] | Patrieis et Nil[o] | [Adiut]ori d[onum] | d[ederunt] ; J. Yoyotte – P. Charvet – S. Gompertz, Strabon, Le voyage en Égypte, Paris 1997, 262–264: “dans une région où ni du temps du peuple

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tectorate over the kingdom of the Aethiopians, having received Cornelius Gallus an ambassador of their king at Philae. His successor, C. Aelius Gallus, the second praefectus Aegypti, continued the designs of exploration and the policy of expansionism of Augustus,60 in the years between 26 and 24 B.C. It is he who undertook the unfortunate expedition in the Arabia Felix, from summer 26 B.C. until autumn of 25 B.C., as far as the straight of Bab’-el-Madeb (Yemen), along with 10,000 Egyptians who had the help of 1,000 Nabataeans, under the guidance of Syllaeus, the Nabataean minister of king Obodas III. The two expeditions are well recorded in the Res Gestae Divi Augusti, 26, 5:61 in Aethiopiam usque ad oppidum Nabata perventum est, cui proxima est Meroë; in Arabiam usque in fines Sabaeorum pro­ cessit exercitus ad oppidum Mariba. The expedition in Arabia is presented as though it was a success, despite the very fact that the assault to Marib turned out to be a tremendous disaster (Strab. XVI 4, 24). Οnce the Roman forces, which had lost their greater part, came back to Hedjaj, they reached the coast at the high point of this important town of the Nabataeans called by Strabo Hegra, today Mada’in Shalih, where we have noticed the Nabataean tombs, dated to the time span from 1 A.D. to 73 A.D. A few years later, probably between 25 and 22 B.C., Augustus organised the third expedition, in fact he launched the invasion of Aethiopia through his prae­ fectus Aegypti C. Petronius (25–20 B.C.), who would have conquered, in the Tria­ contaschoene, Pselchis (Dakka), Premnis (Qasr Ibrim) and finally Napata (Nubia – Sudan, at Gebel Barkal, 21 km from the 4th Catarract), the ancient royal capital of the Queen Candace – Amanirenas of the Aethiopian kingdom of Kush, which had been replaced by Meroë in the 6th c. B.C. (between the 5th and the 6th Catarract, 200 km NE of Khartum).62 Augustus was seeking to explore the sources of Nile as well, way beyond those visible at Philae, an explicit allusion to the intended geographical limits of the Augustan Empire, reaching as far as the outer confines of the oecu­ mene. This might be the reason for the Nabataean decoration of the temple of Augustus at Philae, the achieved Aethiopian frontier and the desired Arabian frontier of the Imperium Romanum. Much more comprehensive, if Nabataeans and Aethiopians of Napata shared common ethnic origins, as one should mention.63 Thus, the

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romain ni sous les rois d’Égypte la guerre n’avait été portée, … donné audience à Philae aux envoyés du roi d’Éthiopie (legatis regis Aethiopum ad Philae auditis), reçu leur roi sous sa tutelle après avoir établi un chef du Triancontaschoene, sur la frontière de l’Éthiopie”. W.L. Westerman, “Aelius Gallus and the Reorganization of the Irrigation System of Egypt under Augustus”, CPh 12, 1917, 237–243; S. Jameson, “Chronology of the Campaigns of Aelius Gallus and C. Petronius”, JRS 58, 1968, 71–84; C. Nicolet, Space, Geography and Politics in the Early Roman Empire, Ann Arbor 1991, 85-94. Strab. 16, 4, 2224 = C 780–783; Cass. Dio, 53, 29; Plin. nat. hist. VI 32; G. Bowersock, Roman Arabia, 43–49. “In Ethiopia we got as far as the city of Nabata, close to which is Meroë; in Arabia, to the confines of the Sabaeans, to the city of Mariba”: C. Nicolet, Space, Geography and Politics, 22–23. J. Desanges, “Bilan des recherches sur les sources grecques et latine de l’histoire de la Nubie antique dans les trente dernières années”, C. Bonnet (ed.), Études Nubiennes, Genève 1992, 363–378; L. Török, “Geschichte Meroes. Ein Beitrag über die Quellenlage und den Forschungsstand”, ANRW II.10.1, 1988, 107–341. H. von Wissman, “Die Geschichte des Sabäerreiches und der Feldzug des Aelius Gallus”, ANRW II.9.1, 1976, 308-544; L. Borchardt, “Beiträge zur Ägyptischen Bauforschung und Al-

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interest of Augustus for Philae and the Nabataeans seems to be clarified, but what is noticeable is that after Augustus Trajan himself erected his memorial at the sources of the Nile, in the sanctuary of Isis and Hathor-Bes at Philae. The so-called Kiosk of Trajan consists of a rectangular building with walls pierced by fourteen columns bearing floral capitals. Two of the walls between the columns are decorated with images of Trajan carrying out sacrifices in honour of Isis and Osiris. We can move back to Amathus. In the Hellenistic Agora of the city (Fig. 15), which faced the ancient harbour, now covered with earth, on the axis of the paved courtyard emerges the so-called “édifice carré” (3.98 X 3.98 m, in a square precinct of 10.34 m a side). This must be the Ptolemaic-Roman naiskos in honour of Bês, as P. Aupert did not fail to hint, from the fact that the great statue of Bês in the Museum of Istanbul (according to A. Hérmary, about 300 B.C.) was discovered in the area of the Agora.64 The centre of the monument was probably filled with water, thus symbolising the water coming from the Nile Delta which is constantly flowing into the southern sea of Cyprus. We can understand the use of the Nabataean capitals in the temple of Aphrodite and we can be sure that, if Trajan turned his attention towards the deities of Philae – Hathor and Bês, which are well represented at Amathus from the Classic and the Hellenistic period on – he must have been the one who commanded the reconstruction of the temple of Aphrodite at Amathus, at the same time as the inscription for the temple of Apollo Hylates in Kourion testifies, that means in 100–101 A.D. It now seems easier to recognise that the Nabataean capitals in Cyprus might be borrowed from the Egyptian past of Amathus, as it was readapted to the Arabic-Egyptian ecumenical dreams of Trajan. Trajan must have known the tradition concerning Amathus which is conveyed by Herodotus in 7, 90: τούτων δὲ [Κυπρίων] τοσάδε ἔθνεά ἐστι, οἱ μὲν ἀπὸ Σαλαμῖνος καὶ Ἀθηνέων, οἱ δὲ ἀπὸ Ἀρκαδίης, οἱ δὲ ἀπὸ Φοινίκης, οἱ δὲ ἀπὸ Αἰθιοπίης, ὡς αὐτοὶ Κύπριοι λέγουσιν. In our opinion, the Nabataean capitals in Cyprus stem from the Aethiopian – Napataean (from Napata – Nuri) tradition of Amathus,65 but they bring out

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tertumskunde, Heft 2”, L. Borchardt, Ägyptische Tempel mit Umgang, Kairo 1938, Blatt 5/6, 13–14. P. Aupert, “Amathonte hellénistique et impériale : l’apport des travaux récents”, CCÉC 39, 2009, 28–32: “[le portique occidental] il ouvre à l’est sur l’agora, mais il comporte aussi une nef ouvrant à l’ouest sur une grande place qui pourrait être la cour d’un sanctuaire de Bès. La statue colossale du dieu, aujourd’hui au Musée d’Istanboul (Fig. 5), provient en effet de cette zone [cf. A. Hérmary, Amathonte II. Testimonia 2. La sculpture, Athenes 1981, 29] et de nombreux autres fragments, dont au moins un autre colossal, ont été découverts en des endroits qui ont cette cour pour épicentre”. For instance the toponym of Nuri, in the East bank of the Nile, in front of Gebel Barkal – Napata, reminds us of the kingdoms of Cyprus listed in the Prism B of Esarhaddon, among which Nuria appears; ANET V 54 – VI 1: “Damasu, king of Kuri (Curium), Atmesu, king of Tamesi Damusi, king of Qarti-hadasti (Carthago, to be changed in Kition), Unagusu, king of Lidir (Ledra), Bususu, king of Nuria, – 10 kings from Cyprus (Iadnana) amidst the sea”; for Nuri in Aethiopia, G. A. Reissner, “Preliminary Report on the Harvard-Boston Excavations at Nuri: The Kings of Aethiopia after Tirhaqa”, HAS 2, 1918, 1–64; G. A. Reissner, “Known and Unknown Kings of Aethiopia: Excavation at the Royal Cemetery at Nuri, 1916–1918”, BMFA 16, 1918, 67–82; D. Dunham, Nuri (Royal Cemeteries of Kush II), Boston 1955; cf. C. Baurain, “Un autre nom pour Amathonte de Chypre”, BCH 105, 1981, 361–372.

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a new Arabic political – and why not an ethnological message – that intended to mark the outer geographical limits of the Roman Empire under Trajan, more as a design than as a fact. This vision, that was certainly bestowed on Trajan by Augustus, would include the wider area from the sources of Nile and Aethiopia as far as the Indian Ocean,66 by embracing the whole Arabic peninsula. 27.7 THE NABATAEAN MESSAGE IN CYPRUS UNDER TRAJAN In other words, in 100 A.D. we would have to do with a vote for the imminent annexation of Nabataean Arabia that would come in 106 A.D. Whatever the original source of inspiration was for the shape of the Nabataean capitals – and the preambles – the main question is what these capitals mean in Cyprus and for Cyprus in the years around 100 A.D. By retracing the history of the Roman Provincia Syriae under Vespasian, G. W. Bowersock gave substantial impetus for also understanding the history of what we could call the “Roman acculturation” of the still independent Nabataean kingdom during the years of Vespasian. For this reason he underlined the attitude shown by the last King, Rabbel II (71–106 A.D.), towards the Romans, which brought the client King of the Arabs closer to the Romans – almost into the administrative sphere of the Province of Syria – since he had transferred the capital from Petra to Bosra, from the desert to the North. Equally, P. Funke has tried, in his study of the relationships between Rome and the Nabataeans, to make out the peaceful annexation after the death of Rabbel II (106 A.D.), but he has avoided taking a stand on the grounds for the decision made by Trajan in that precise year 105–106 A.D., although he recognises the real terms of the problem and the proRoman policy put forward by Rabbel II.67 But there are not only the intentions of Trajan in 106 A.D. to be clarified, since there is another serious problem: Was there a coherent Roman plan for a future incorporation of Arabia or not, already in the time of Vespasian (69–79 A.D.)? This is an important issue, in order to understand the Nabataean ideology at that time, as it is reflected in those monuments influenced 66

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Trajan created a fortress in Pselchis – Dakka, in the temple of Thoth. The southern Roman frontier was steadily established by the time of Trajan in the Dodecaschoenus. The Roman garrison during this time is well attested: soldiers of the Legio II Traiana, III Cyrenaica, Legio XXII Deiotariana; P. Mich. III 223: ἔχω ἄλλους δέκα ὀκ[τ]ὼ μήνας εἰς τ[ὰ] πραισίδια καθήμενος μέχρι εἰς Ψέλκιν εἰσέλ[θ]ω; cf. G. M. Raschke, “New Studies in Roman Commerce with the East”, Temporini H. (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der romischen Welt II.9.1, Berlin 1978, 647,866 and n. 898; for the discovery of the monsoons, A. Dihle, Umstrittene Daten: Untersuchungen zum Auftreten der Griechen am Rotenmeer (Abhandlungen zur Nordrhein-Westfalischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 32), Koln – Opladen 1965. P. Funke, “Rom und das Nabatäerreich bis zur Aufrichtung der Provinz Arabia”, Drexhage H.J. & Sünskes J. (Hrsgg.), Migratio et Commutatio. Studien zur Alten Geschichte und deren Nachleben. Festschrift Th. Pekàry, Tübingen 1989, 17–18: “Fraglich erscheint auch die Erklärung der Annexion des Nabatäerreiches als Vorgriff auf den Parthenfeldzug Trajans. Wir müssen, die Unterwerfungsbereitschaft zu konstatieren, ohne jedoch den konkreten Anlaß für die Annexion ausfindig machen zu können. Hier erscheint mir in der Tat ein non liquet angebracht”.

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by the political semi-independence of the Nabataean kingdom from Rome. The young Trajan had held a military tribunate under his father, who was legatus Au­ gusti pro cos. of Vespasian after the end of the Ist Jewish war (71–73 A.D.) in the Provincia Syriae in the years between 73/4 and 76/7 A.D.68 We cannot exclude that the young Trajan had by now had his first contact with the King of the Nabataeans Rabbel II (71–106 A.D.). Unfortunately, we do not know anything about the military career of Trajan between 89 and 96 A.D. We see his indirect intervention from far away in Cyprus in 100–101 A.D., before his first Dacian campaign. From June 105 to the winter of 106/107 A.D. Trajan was again active in the northern frontier, conducting the second Dacian expedition. Nevertheless, he continued to pay careful attention to the East, since at the death of Rabbel II – as it is often supposed – he sent out the legatus of Syria A. Cornelius Palma Frontonianus with orders to annex his extensive country, probably because the new King Obodas III did not give guarantees of obedience. The new capital became Bostra, which had never been part of the Province of Syria, but the most important outpost of the Nabataean Kingdom in the North, as long as Petra was the capital. Bowersock argues that exactly the Arch at the Western end of the modern village (the so-called “Porta dei Venti” – Bâb alHawâ), as well as the Triple Arch on the Cardo Maximus (“Porta Nabatea”) were constructed under Rabbel II (Fig. 18).69 The Triple Arch has Nabataean capitals, that are certainly earlier than those in Kourion and Amathus.70 “Rabbel would hardly have been the first client king to identify Roman interests with his own. The initiative for the development of the northern Nabataean kingdom may well have been a part of the Roman stimulus to inner Syria. Someone, Vespasian or perhaps Trajanus, may already have envisaged an Arabian province with its headquarters at Bostra”.71 This is the coherent conclusion of Bowersock, who nevertheless could not reach a more precise chronology for the building activity of Rabbel II, thus leaving the problem of the architectural patterns of Cyprus under a shadow. Is it 68

69

70

71

Father and son obtained both the ornamenta triumphalia for some unknown success, certainly over the Parthians. Pliny is explicit (Paneg. 14, 1): Non incunabula haec tibi, Caesar, et rudimenta, cum puer admodum Parthica lauro gloriam patris augeres; G. Bowersock, “Syria under Vespasian”, JRS 63, 1973, 134–135. G. Bowersock, “Syria under Vespasian”, 139; G. Bowersock, Roman Arabia, 73, and n. 51; cf. J. Dentzer-Feydy – M. Vallerin – Th. Fournet – R. et A. Mukdad, Bosra. Aux portes de l’Arabie, Beyrouth 2007, 133–136, 269-270. The cardo maximus is certainly pre-roman, before 106 A.D.; cf. S. Cerulli, “Bostra: Note sul sistema viario urbano e nuovi apporti alla comprensione delle fasi edilizie del santuario dei SS. Sergio, Bacco e Leonzio”, Felix Ravenna 115, 1, 1978, 79–120; D.S. Miller, “Bostra in Arabia. Nabataean and Roman City of the Near East”, R. T. Marchese (ed.), Aspects of Graeco-Roman Urbanism: Essays on the Classical City (BAR International Series 188), Oxford 1983, 110–137. J. Starcky, “Pétra et la Nabatène”, L. Pirot, A. Robert & H. Cazelles (eds.), Supplément au Dictionnaire de la Bible VII, Paris 1966, col. 886–1017, col. 947, dates the Arch to the time of king Malichus II (40–70 A.D.), which is possible but it is preferable to give a date at the time of Rabbel II. G. Bowersock, “Syria under Vespasian”, 140. Already R. Syme, Tacitus, vols. I–II, Oxford 1958, 31 had stated that Trajan father might have been the agent of Vespasian in the organisation of the eastern frontiers, which led Bowersock to believe that “much of the emperor Trajan’s eastern policy had its origin in those early years in Syria”.

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Bostra of Rabbel II the source for the Nabataean decoration in Cyprus? In any case, what is indeed a fact is that the Nabataean capitals arose long before the establishment of the Roman Provincia Arabiae. It seems to be a tool of differentiation and, at the same time, of self-Romanisation for the native culture of this client kingdom – mainly Arabic – living on the edge of the provincia Syriae and preserving a distinct identity from Rome. It is noteworthy to remark that once the new province was founded, the city of Gerasa, which was a member of the semi-independent Decapolis within the provincia Syriae (63 B.C.), came to form part of the provincia Arabiae. Soon afterwards, the Nabataean capitals also appear in Gerasa, in the great Arch of the North Gate, located at the upper end of the cardo, which was dedicated by C. Claudius Severus in 115 A.D. He is the legatus Au(gusti) pro pr(aetore) who undertook the works for the building of the nova via Traiana between 111 and 114 A.D.72 Thus, it seems that there was an early plan of political and cultural annexation of the Arabic world to the Empire, by creating a great Roman-Arabic Province, which however could be drawn and be executed only in the years following 106 A.D. After the death of king Herod of Judaea in 4 B.C. nobody represented the interests of Rome in Palaestine. However, the first Jewish War (66–73 A.D.), after the fall of Masada in 73 A.D., resulted in the definite abolition of the provincia Iu­ daeae,73 in as much the Jews expired as a separate political entity and subsequently became attached to the provincia Syriae, under the form of Syria Palaestina. In this War in the year 67 A.D., the Romans had received consistent military support by Malichus II, king of the Nabataeans between 40 and 70 A.D. In his interpretation of the political facts, Bowersock did not further accentuate the conflict between the Nabataean Arabs and the Jews, preferring to acknowledge an attitude of reciprocal tolerance, though he described the dissent and the war caused between Herod and Malichus I in 31 B.C., at Cleopatra’s VII instigation, which had as an outcome for the Nabataeans the accepting of Herod as their prostates and overlord. Funke was more peremptory, in recognising not simply the hostility but the hate between the two peoples that existed in 70 A.D., as Tacitus, hist. V 1 ascertains: comitabantur … simul Agrippa Sohaemusque reges et auxilia regis Antiochi validaque et solito inter accolas odio infensa Iudaeis Arabum manus. The odium must have already been raised in the time of Aretas IV, after the breakdown of the good relationship with Herod in 40 B.C. Aretas IV finally decided to become a friend of the Romans in 4 B.C., only because of the hostility over Herod, as Josephus states.74 If Rome after 72

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CIL 14149, of 111 A.D.: redacta in | formam provinciae Arabia viam no | vam a finibus Syriae | usque ad mare rubrum | aperuit et stravit per C(aium) Claudium Severum; D. Graf, “The Via Nova Traiana in Arabia Petraea”, JRA Supplementary series no. 14, J. H. Humphrey (ed.), The Roman and Byzantine Near East. Some recent archaeological research,1995, 241–278; cf. C. H. Kraeling (ed.), Gerasa. City of the Decapolis , New Haven 1938, 117–144, nos 56–57. The provincia procuratoria Iudaeae was founded in 6 A.D., was enlarged in 34 A.D. and 39 A.D, dissolved by Caligula in 41 A.D. and reestablished by Claudius in 44 A.D. G. Bowersock, Roman Arabia, 69: “The resurrection of the Jewish kingdom on the western side of the Jordan must have taken the new Nabataean king by surprise, but there is no evidence that the situation led to hostilities”. But Flavius Josephus, BJ 3, 68 conveys an important piece of news that during the campaign of Titus in 67 A.D. Malichus II sent, doubtless at Roman request, 1,000 cavalry and 5,000 infantry to Titus, who was preparing his forces against the Jews

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the quelling of the Jewish Revolt in 73/4 A.D. did make a decisive choice in favour of the Nabataean Arabs, who were more inclined after the death of Herod and of his sons to accept the Roman dominion than the Jews, that choice could provide the best explanation for the diffusion of the Nabataean capitals, not only in the Arabic kingdom but in the Roman provinciae, too (in Syria and in Cyprus), in the time of Rabbel II (70/1–106 A.D.). Are these capitals signs of a shifting pro-Nabataean policy of the Romans? Unfortunately, the evidence concerning this matter cannot yet be conclusive and the doubts cannot be easily dissipated. For instance, the archaeological evidence from Masada, where Nabataean capitals were also discovered, attests their diffusion in the territory of Judaea before 44 A.D. and even before 6 A.D.75 In any event, it is impossible to date the temple of Apollo Hylates in Cyprus after 101–102 A.D., because the titulature of Trajan does not record the title of Dacicus (end of 102, as late as the beginning of 103 A.D.). We must have confidence in the chronology of the Proconsul Q. Caelius Honoratus (cos. suff. 105 A.D.), thanks to Mitford, and to the restoration of the dedicatory inscription of the Kourion Gate proposed by Kantirea. And we must state that the use of Nabataean capitals in Cyprus was implemented a few years before the institution of the provin­ cia Arabiae. This would finally signify that the cultural unification of the Eastern Provinces (Syria, including Judaea – Cyprus) with Arabia, to which we must probably add Egypt, was steadily in nuce, before the official political arrangement legalised this kind of policy. At any rate, the “Nabataean” projects in Cyprus must have prepared the ground for what was to follow in 106 A.D. The Emperor Trajan came in person to the East much later, after the conclusion of the second Dacian war and the dedication of the Forum Trajanum on May 113 A.D, celebrating the victories over the Dacians. He left Rome on 27th October 113 A.D., passing through Beneventum and the via Traiana, setting sail to the East from Brindisium. In the early summer of 114 A.D. he was to have the first victories in the Parthian War, the conquest of Armenia and, at least, the north part of Mesopotamia. On the Arch of Beneventum – the ianus viae Traianae – being datable only to the later half of 114 A.D. (more probably at the end of the year, according to P.G. Hamberg), in the right panel of the atticum, a kneeling woman is presumably representing Armenia, while the two-river gods are certainly alluding to the Euphrates and Tigris.76 Hamberg pointed out that there is a coin type bearing the script ARMENIA ET MESOPOTA-

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at Acra; cf. P. Funke, “Rom und das Nabatäerreich”, 10, and nn. 43–45; p. 10: “Auch die Beteilung an der Niederschlagung der antirömischen Aufstände in Judäa resultierte vornehmlich aus der tiefen Feindshaft, die die Nabatäer gegenüber dem ihnen benachbareten Judäa hegten, mit dem es immer wieder zu Grenzkonflicten und Gebietsstreitigkeiten kam”. For the war of Varus in 4 B.C. against the Jews, Jos. Ant. Iud. 17, 287, 290–300; for the same events, Jos. Bell. Iud. 2, 68–70, especially 2, 76: ὁ δὲ τοὺς μὲν Ἄραβας εὑρὼν οὐ συμμάχων ἦθος ἔχοντας, ἀλλ’ ἰδίῳ πάθει στρατευομένους καὶ πέρα τῆς ἑαυτοῦ προαιρέσεως τὴν χώραν κακοῦντας ἔχθει τῷ πρὸς Ἡρώδην ἀποπέμπεται; cf. R. Wenning, “The Nabataeans in History”, K. Politis (ed.), The World of the Nabataeans II , Stuttgard 2007, 25–44, 32, 38–40. It would be crucial to know whether the last samples of Nabataean capitals in Masada might belong to the period between 44 and 73/4 A.D. and between 73/4 and 100 A.D., or not. P.-G. Hamberg, Studies in Roman Imperial Art, Roma 1945, 69-70; Imp(eratori) Caesari Divi Nervae filio | Nervae Traiano Optimo Aug(usto) | Germanico Dacico Pontif(ici) Max(imo)

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MIA IN POTESTATEM P R REDACTAE, which enables us to better understand the profectio for the East of Trajan, depicted on the Arch only after the first successes. This permits us also to realise exactly what the behaviour of Trajan towards Arabia was like. Trajan had never received the title of Arabicus, in the sense of the conqueror of Arabia. Bowersock and Funke stressed that, in the coins, Arabia is never indeed said to have been CAPTA, like IUDAEA CAPTA, but only ADQUISITA, thus reminding as of a peaceful annexation of Arabia, to the virtual acquisition of her territory. However, as we have already seen, in the milestones of the nova via Traiana of 111 A.D. Arabia is also described as being REDACTA IN FORMAM PROVINCIAE, which would attenuate the supposedly totally peaceful character of the annexation. We can presume that in 100–101 A.D. the policy of Trajan in the East – and even in absentia – was to attract the Nabataean kingdom into the orbit of the Imperium Romanum, through formally accepting its distinctive cultural attributes. Between 106 and 115 A.D. this acceptance would take the form of effective submission to the Romans (POTESTAS P R) and would receive a further extension. At this point we must remember that the via nova Traiana linking Syria to Aqaba in fact crossed Petra, and where the greatest memorial to Trajan in Roman Arabia, his triumphal Arch, was erected in 114 A.D. by the city, now rewarded with the judicial status of metropolis of Arabia.77 Between the last months of 113 A.D. and the first months of 114 A.D., before reaching Antioch, Trajan must have paid a visit to Cyprus, to the sanctuary of Apollo Hylates in Kourion, the last parts of the reconstruction of which had started in 100 A.D. and were now being executed, under the supervision of the Proconsul Q. Seppius Celer. In the winter of 115/6 or in the spring of 116 A.D. the 2nd Jewish War broke out, this time against Trajan. The insurrection of the Jews of the Diaspora affected Egypt, Cyrenaica and Cyprus. Artemion was the leader in Cyprus and perpetrated massive attacks bringing about an immense number of 240,000 deaths among the population, while Salamis is said to have been destroyed and the non-Jewish population almost exterminated. Trajan sent the VII Claudia to restore order in Cyprus.78 The immediate outcome was an

77

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Trib(unicia) | Potest(ate) XVIII Imp(eratori) VII Co(n)s(uli) VI P(atri) P(atriae) | Fortissimo Principi Senatus P(opulus) Q(ue) R(omanus). G. Bowersock, “Review: A. Spijekerman, The Coins of the Decapolis and Provincia Arabia”, JRS 72, 1982, 197–198; cf. G. Bowersock, Roman Arabia, p. 84–85, and n. 28: [Αὐτοκράτορι Καίσα]ρι Θεοῦ [Νέρουα υἱῷ] Νέρουᾳ Τρ[αϊανῷ] | [Ἀρίστῳ Σεβαστῷ Γερμανικῷ Δακικ]ῷ ἀρχιερεῖ μεγίστῳ δ[ημαρ]χικῆς ἐξουσίας τὸ [ι]η΄ αὐτοκράτορι τὸ ζ΄ ὑπ]άτῳ τὸ ς΄] | [vac. ἡ τῆς Ἀραβίας μη]τρόπολις Πέτρα ἐπὶ Γαΐου Κλ[αυδίο]υ Σεουήρου πρεσβευ[τ]οῦ ἀντιστρατήγου vac.; cf. S. Tracy, “The dedicatory inscription to Trajan at the ‘metropolis’ of Petra”, JRA Supplementary Series no. 31, J. H. Humphrey (ed.), The Roman and Byzantine Near East, vol. 2, 1999, 51–58; G. Bowersock, ibid., 84: “By 114 there was no doubt that the emperor intended to march farther east, against the great empire in the Iranian heartland. And it was obviously important to him to secure the countries behind him as he moved eastward. The organization of Arabia with the great road linking Syria to the Gulf of ‘Aqaba and the establishment of Roman authority at Bostra may well have been part of Trajan’s master plan for conquest of the Parthians”; cf. F.A. Lepper, Trajan’s Parthian War, Oxford 1948. Mainly Cass. Dio 68, 32: He is accurate that Jews were utterly banished from Cyprus; Euseb. Hist. Eccl. IV 2; Chron. II, p. 164 (Schoene); Orosius VII 12, 8; cf. ILS 9491: missus cum vexillo ab imp … Traiano Cyprum in expeditionem; cf. Groag, s.v. “Lusius Quietus” RE XIII,

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edictum of prohibition to residence, according to which no Jew was allowed to set foot in Cyprus, and even those who accidentally approached the island through adverse winds were to put to death. Thus, an anti-Judaean policy put forward by Trajan is demonstrated for the year 115/116 A.D. If this was a conscient policy, already in existence in 100 A.D., we cannot know, but we have demonstrated the spread of the Nabataean capitals in Cyprus. Trajan never returned to Rome, but remained in the East until his death in Selinopolis–Cilicia in 117 A.D. BIBLIOGRAPHY Alon G., The Jews in their Land in the Talmudic Age (70-640 CE) (translated and edited by Gershon Levi), Cambridge 1980 Aupert P., “Amathonte hellénistique et impériale: l’apport des travaux récents”, CCÉC 39, 2009, 25–48 Baurain C., “Un autre nom pour Amathonte de Chypre”, BCH 105, 1981, 361–372 Bagnall R. & Drew-Bear Th., “Documents from Kourion: A Review article”, Phoenix 27, 1973, 99–117, 213–244 Bérnand E., Les insrciptions grecques de Philae. Tome 1: Epoque ptolemaique, Paris 1969 Bianchi-Bandinelli R. & Torelli M., L’ arte dell’ antichità classica, Etruria – Roma, Turin 1976 Borchardt L., “Beiträge zur Ägyptischen Bauforschung und Altertumskunde, Heft 2”, Borchardt L., Ägyptische Tempel mit Umgang, Kairo 1938, Blatt 5/6, 13–14 Borchardt L., “Der Augustustempel auf Philae”, JDAI 18, 1903, 73–90 Bowersock G., Roman Arabia, Cambridge/London 1983, 19942 Bowersock G., “Review: Spijekerman A., The Coins of the Decapolis and Provincia Arabia”, JRS 72, 1982, 197–198 Bowersock G., “Syria under Vespasian”, JRS 63, 1973, 133–140 = Bowersock G., Studies on the Eastern Roman Empire, Goldbach 1994, *85–*92 Bradeen D.W. & McGregor M.F. (eds.), Phoros: tribute to Benjamin Dean Meritt, Locust Valley N.Y 1974 Bradford-Welles C., “Archaeological News and Discussions”, AJA 52, 1948, 497–533 Bresciani E., “La stele trilingue di Cornelio Gallo: una rilettura egittologica”, Egitto e Vicino Oriente XII, 1989, 93–98 Brünnow R.-E. & Domaszewski A. von, Die Provincia Arabia, Strassburg 1904 Buitron D. & Soren D., “Excavations in the sanctuary of Apollo Hylates at Kourion”, Biers J.C. & Soren D. (eds.), Studies in Cypriote Archaeology XVIII, Los Angeles 1981, 99–116 Butler H.C., Publications of the Princeton University Archaeological Expedition to Syria in 1904–5 1927, cols. 1881–1886; for the chronology (winter of 115/6 or spring 116 A.D., R.P. Longden, “Notes on the Parthian Campaign of Trajan”, JRS 21, 1931, 7–8; V. Chapot, “Les Romains et Chypre”, Mélanges Cagnat, Paris 1912, 59–83 suggested that Cassius Dio’s image of 240,000 deads covers both Egypt and Cyprus, which seems to be more reasonable; cf. G. Hill, A History of Cyprus I, Cambridge 1940, 241–243 and 242 note 1; Hill puts forward that the aqueduct of Salamis from Chytri would serve some 120,000 inhabitants, by concluding “so that double that number for the slain throughout the island is not incredible” and that, in any case, we possess no indication whether among the victims there were Jews killed during the suppression of the revolt or not; cf. M. Pucci – B. Zeev, La rivolta ebraica al tempo di Traiano, Pisa 1981; G. Alon, The Jews in their Land in the Talmudic Age (70-640 CE) (translated and edited by Gershon Levi), Cambridge 1980.

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Mitford T. B., “Roman Cyprus”, Temporini H. (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der romischen Welt II. 7. 2., Berlin/New York 1980, 1285–1384 Negev A., “Nabataean capitals in the towns of the Negev”, IEJ 21, 1974, 153–159 Nicolaou K., “Archaeological news from Cyprus, 1977–1978”, AJA 84, 1980, 63–73 Nicolet C., Space, Geography and Politics in the Early Roman Empire, Ann Arbor 1991 Parapetti R., “Capitelli nabatei a Gerasa”, Mesopotamia 33, 1998, 309–319 Patrich J., “The Development of the Nabataean Capital”, Eretz Israel 17, 1984, 291–304 Patrich J., “The Formation of the Nabataean Capital”, Fittschen K. – Foerster G. (eds.), Judaea and the Greco-Roman World in the Time of Herod in the Light of the Archaeological Evidence, Göttingen 1996, 197–218 Pucci M. & Zeev B., La rivolta ebraica al tempo di Traiano, Pisa 1981 Raschke G. M., “New Studies in Roman Commerce with the East”, Temporini H. (ed.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der romischen Welt II.9. 1, Berlin 1978, 604–1361 Schlumberger D., “Les formes anciennes du chapiteau corinthien en Syrie, en Palestine et en Arabie”, Syria 14, 1933, 233–312 Schmidt-Colinet A., “A Nabatean Family of Sculptors at Hegra”, Berytus XXXI, 1983, 95–102 Schmidt-Colinet Α.,”Dorisierende nabatäische Kapitelle”, MDAI(D) 1, 1983, 307–312 Scranton R., “The Architecture of the Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates at Kourion”, TAPhS 57, 1967, 3–85 Settipani Ch., Continuité gentilice et continuité familiale dans les familles senatoriales romaines à l’époque impériale, Prosopographica et Genealogica, vol. 2, Oxford 2000. Addenda I - III (juillet 2000- octobre 2002): http://users.ox.ac.uk/~prosop/publications/volume-two.pdf Sinos S., The Temple of Apollo Hylates at Kourion and the Restoration of its South-West Corner (with the collaboration of F. Wenzel, E. Kalliri, M. Ieronymidou), Athens 1990 Soren D., The sanctuary of Apollo Hylates at Kourion, Cyprus, Tucson 1987 Soren D., “Some New Ideas on Dating and Rebuilding the Temple of Apollo Hylates at Kourion”, RDAC, 1983, 232–241 Soren D., “The Temple of Apollo at the Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates”, RDAC, 1979, 321–327 Starcky J., “Pétra et la Nabatène”, Pirot L., Robert A. & Cazelles H. (eds.), Supplément au Dictionnaire de la Bible VII, Paris 1966, 886–1017 Strocka M.-V., “Der Apollo des Kanachos in Didyma und der Beginn des Strengen-Stils”, JdI 117, 2002, 81–125 Syme R., Tacitus, vols. I–II, Oxford 1958 Syme R., “The Imperial Finances under Domitian, Nerva and Trajan”, JRS 20, 1930, 55–70 Taylor J., Petra and the Lost kingdom of the Nabataeans, Cambridge 2002 Torelli M., Typology and Structure of the Roman Historical Relief (Jerome Lectures XIV), Ann Arbor 1982 Török L., “Geschichte Meroes. Ein Beitrag über die Quellenlage und den Forschungsstand”, ANRW II.10.1, 1988, 107–341 Tracy S., “The dedicatory inscription to Trajan at the ‘metropolis’ of Petra”, JRA Supplementary Series no. 31, Humphrey J.H. (ed.), The Roman and Byzantine Near East, vol. 2, 1999, 51–58 Vassilika E., Ptolemaic Philae (Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 34), Leuven 1989 Wallace-Hadrill A., “Civilis Princeps: Between Citizen and King”, JRS 72, 1982, 32–48 Wenning R., “The Nabataeans in History”, Politis K. (ed.), The World of the Nabataeans II, Stuttgard 2007 Westerman W. L., “Aelius Gallus and the Reorganization of the Irrigation System of Egypt under Augustus”, CPh 12, 1917, 237–243 Wissman H. von, “Die Geschichte des Sabäerreiches und der Feldzug des Aelius Gallus”, ANRW II.9.1, 1976, 308–544 Wright G. R. H., “A Nabataean Capital in the Salamis Gymnasium and its possible Background”, Actes du premier congrès international d’archéologie chypriote – 1969, Nicosia 1972, 175–178 Yoyotte J., Charvet P. & Gompertz S., Strabon, Le voyage en Égypte, Paris 1997

490

Theodoros Mavrojannis

Fig. 1: The Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates. General Plan, before the excavation of the Circular Monument (15) (Mitford T.B., The Inscriptions of Kourion, Plan 2)

27 The Roman Temples of Kourion and Amathus in Cyprus

Fig. 2: The Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates. General Plan with numbered monuments corresponding to the text (Christou D., Kourion. Its Monuments and Local Museum, 1996, p. 67)

491

492

Theodoros Mavrojannis

Fig. 3: Roman Temple of Apollo Hylates after the Restoration of its South­West Corner (Sinos 1990, fig. 260)

Fig. 4: Roman Temple of Apollo Hylates. Reconstruction of the South­West Corner (Architect S. Sinos)

27 The Roman Temples of Kourion and Amathus in Cyprus

Fig. 5: Temple of Apollo Hylates. Reconstruction of the South façade; 1st phase of Temple 2: “Neronian” (Sinos 1990, fig. 253)

Fig. 6: Temple of Apollo Hylates. Reconstruction of the South façade; 2nd phase of Temple 2: Main Building Phase, “Trajanic” (Sinos 1990, fig. 254)

493

494

Theodoros Mavrojannis

Fig. 7: Temple of Apollo Hylates: tetrastylos prostylos in antis, on podium. Restored Plan: Main Building Phase, “Trajanic” (Sinos 1990, fig. 248)

Fig. 8: The Tracing of the Nabataean Capitals of the Roman Temple of Apollo Hylates (Sinos 1990, fig. 182)

27 The Roman Temples of Kourion and Amathus in Cyprus

Fig. 9: Nabataean Capitals from Masada, in comparison to Herodian­Corinthian Capital (Patrich, The Formation of the Nabataean Capital, fig. 15)

495

496

Theodoros Mavrojannis

Fig. 11: Appendix I, from Patrich, The Formation of the Nabataean Capital, p. 214­215: Table 3: Nabataean Capitals in the Dated Tombs at Mada’in Salih.

27 The Roman Temples of Kourion and Amathus in Cyprus

Fig. 12: Reconstruction of the façade of the Temple of Aphrodite at Amathous (Architect M. Schmidt) (Guide d’Amathonte, fig. 50)

497

498

Theodoros Mavrojannis

Fig. 10: Nabataean Capital from Bostra ­ “Arc Nabatéen”

Fig. 13: Plan of the Roman Temple of Aphrodite at Amathous (Architect, M. Schmidt) (Guide d’Amathonte, Plan 9)

27 The Roman Temples of Kourion and Amathus in Cyprus

Fig. 14: Porter and Moss plan of Philae: above the temple of Augustus, below the Hathor temple the Kiosk of Trajan (Vassilika, Ptolemaic Philae, Plate I)

499

500

Theodoros Mavrojannis

Fig. 15: The Hellenistic Agora of Amathous (design Ch. Polykarpou – T. Kozelj): General Plan in the Years of Ptolemy VI Philometor (Guide d’Amathonte, Plan 1)

27 The Roman Temples of Kourion and Amathus in Cyprus

Fig. 16: Reconstruction of the façade of the Temple at Si – Hauran, with elements of the architectural order (Butler 1919, Ill. 341)

501

502

Theodoros Mavrojannis

Fig. 17: Al – Hijr archaeological site (Saudi Arabia): Nabataean Carved Tomb

Fig. 18: Bostra: The “Porta Nabatea” – “Arc Nabatéen”

LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHS AND ILLUSTRATIONS – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

The Lion of Kea ........................................................................................... 209 Codex Vatic. gr. 1818, f. 160r....................................................................... 311 Codex Vatic. gr. 1818, f. 195r....................................................................... 311 Codex Vatic. gr. 1708, f. 98r......................................................................... 312 Etymologicum Gudianum, ed. Sturz, col. 302 ............................................. 312 The Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates. General Plan, before the excavation of the Circular Monument ............................................................................ 490 The Sanctuary of Apollo Hylates. General Plan with numbered monuments ................................................................................................... 491 Roman Temple of Apollo Hylates after the Restoration of its South-West Corner ............................................................................. 492 Roman Temple of Apollo Hylates. Reconstruction of the South-West Corner ............................................................................ 492 Temple of Apollo Hylates. Reconstruction of the South façade; First phase of Temple 2: “Neronian” ........................................................... 493 Temple of Apollo Hylates. Reconstruction of the South façade; Second phase of Temple 2: Main Building Phase, “Trajanic” .................... 493 Temple of Apollo Hylates: tetrastylos prostylos in antis, on podium. Restored Plan: Main Building Phase, “Trajanic” ........................................ 494 The Tracing of the Nabataean Capitals of the Roman Temple of Apollo Hylates ........................................................................................ 494 Nabataean Capitals from Masada, in comparison to Herodian-Corinthian Capital ................................................................... 495 Nabataean Capitals in the Dated Tombs at Mada’in Salih ........................... 496 Reconstruction of the façade of the Temple of Aphrodite at Amathous ..... 497 Nabataean Capital from Bostra - “Arc Nabatéen” ....................................... 498 Plan of the Roman Temple of Aphrodite at Amathous ................................ 498 Porter and Moss plan of Philae .................................................................... 499 The Hellenistic Agora of Amathous ............................................................. 500 Reconstruction of the façade of the Temple at Si in Hauran, with elements of the architectural order ...................................................... 501 Al-Hijr archaeological site (Saudi Arabia): Nabataean Carved Tomb ......... 502 Bostra: The “Porta Nabatea” – “Arc Nabatéen” .......................................... 502

Martin Jehne / Francisco Pina Polo (ed.)

Foreign clientelae in the Roman Empire A Reconsideration Historia – Einzelschrift 238

Martin Jehne / Francisco Pina Polo (ed.) Foreign clientelae in the Roman Empire 2015. 374 pages with 11 illustrations and 2 tables. Hardback. & 978-3-515-11061-7 @ 978-3-515-11062-4

Since the publication of Ernst Badian’s groundbreaking study “Foreign Clientelae” in 1958, his emphasis on the personal relations between Roman senators and members of the provincial elites has become the dominant interpretation for studies of the Roman Empire. Accordingly, Rome not only conceptualized her relations with communities all over the Mediterranean in the form and language of patronage (amicitia, patronus, cliens) but also heavily relied upon them in order to control the Empire. Moreover, it is assumed that these relationships enhanced the position and influence of Roman nobles back home. In this volume, 18 authors from 6 countries reexamine some underlying theoretical assumptions of this paradigma as well as its actual application by means of different case-studies. As a result, it becomes clear that the usual methods for identifying foreign clientelae by identic names cannot be sustained and the importance of the phenomenon both for the Romans and for the Empire seems to be overestimated. The volume thus offers a fresh approach for analysing “Foreign Clientelae” while at the same time assessing its significance more appropriately. .............................................................................

Contents Clientela at Rome and in the Provinces: Some Methodological and Historiographical Remarks. Contributions by: Francisco Pina Polo, Angela Ganter p Rome and Italy: Interstate Relations and Individual Connections. Contributions by: Hans Beck, Fernando Wulff Alonso, Wolfgang Blösel p Foreign Clientelae in the Western Empire: Hispania, Gaul and Africa. Contributions by: Estela García Fernández, Enrique García Riaza, Francisco Beltrán Lloris, Michel Christol, Frédéric Hurlet, Arnaud Suspène p Amicitia and Foreign Clientelae in the Eastern Mediterranean. Contributions by: Michael Snowdon, Paul Burton, Claudia Tiersch p The Impact of Foreign Clientelae in Rome: Political and Military Aspects. Contributions by: Cristina Rosillo-López, Jonathan R. W. Prag p Foreign Clientelae Beyond the Republic. Contributions by Martin Jehne, Claude Eilers

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For two decades (1993–2013) Ioannis Taifacos worked hard to establish the Department of Classics and Philosophy as an autonomous administrative unit at the newly-founded University of Cyprus and to integrate it into the wider academic community. This volume consists of a rich collection of essays to mark his memory and his contribution. Part I deals with Greek and Latin literature. Part II features papers on Greek and Latin scholarship, and on papyrological, rhetorical and linguistic topics. Part III is devoted to Anaximander, Plato, Aristotle, Clearchus, Stoics, Cynics, Galen, and Nicolaus Cusanus. Finally, Part IV contains a paper on the Arabian policy of Trajan. All the essays are original, and are written by an international group of established scholars, some of whom are among the most respected names in the field of Classics.

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isbn 978-3-515-11034-1