Greek Comedy and Embodied Scholarly Discourse 3111080935, 9783111080932, 9783111081540, 9783111081762, 2022949447

Table of contents :
Preface
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1 Proto-semantic studies
Chapter 2 Grammar with perceptual details
Chapter 3 Approaches to style
Chapter 4 Experiencing genres
Chapter 5 Striding in metre
Chapter 6 Discourse on language and dialect
Chapter 7 Tracking Homeric criticism
Chapter 8 The importance of being serious
Conclusion
Abbreviations
Bibliography
General Index
Index vocabulorum Graecorum
Index locorum

Citation preview

Anna A. Novokhatko Greek Comedy and Embodied Scholarly Discourse

Anna A. Novokhatko

Greek Comedy and Embodied Scholarly Discourse

ISBN 978-3-11-108093-2 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-108154-0 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-108176-2 Library of Congress Control Number: 2022949447 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2023 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Cover image: Alexander Rodchenko, Sketch of a woman’s costume for “We”, unperformed production. Director: Sergei Eisenstein, designer: Alexander Rodchenko. Moscow, 1919. © Bakhrushin Theatre Museum, Moscow. Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

in loving memory of my father, Alexey Grigorjevich Novokhatko (1948 – 2018)

Preface This book could not have been completed without many people. It originated as a Habilitationsschrift, which I wrote during my assistant professorship at the Institute of Classical Philology at the University of Freiburg and completed in July 2018. The roots, as always, lie much deeper. I owe my initial interest and my passion for Greek comedy to Bernhard Zimmermann, who inspired many studies of drama in Freiburg, especially in his project to comment fragmentary Greek comedy (KomFrag), which began in 2011 and is still ongoing. Bernhard organised a group of scholars called the KomFrag-Colloquium, of which I was a member for years and learned immensely from the weekly discussions there. From that group, Douglas Olson, Stelios Chronopoulos and Christian Orth commented on various parts of my work over many years and contributed enormously with their sharp criticism and brilliant ideas. The development of scholarship is an obsession of my own, and the clash of these two worlds led to the core idea of this monograph – the interplay of comedy and scholarship in Classical Greece. I am very grateful to Richard Hunter and Stephen Halliwell, who advised and encouraged me on drafts of earlier chapters. Three anonymous readers made constructive suggestions that improved this book considerably. The Moscow Bakhrushin Theatre Museum team assisted in obtaining the image on the cover and permission to use it. I am also grateful to the publisher, De Gruyter, and especially to Serena Pirrotta, who tackled the enterprise of this manuscript with great professionalism. The project managers, Anne Hiller and Ulla Schmidt, have worked efficiently and competently. I am indebted to Florence Low for her proofreading. I cannot list everyone who wittingly or unwittingly participated in this process and supported me, but I am grateful to them all. Needless to say, none of the persons mentioned here bears responsibility for the remaining errors and shortcomings. My family has been a source of unwavering encouragement. My parents, Alexey and Irina Novokhatko, and my sister, Ekaterina Novokhatko, have asked questions, discussed, and offered criticism at various stages of this project. During the writing of this book, my sons Konstantin, Gregor and Michael developed from non-existence to even writing their own poems. But above all, my husband Iannis Carras, who read the text several times at different stages, always commenting, constantly protesting, has been my absolutely faithful supporter in this work and in everything I do. To all these people I owe more than I can ever express. Finally, I dedicate this book to the memory of my father, who passed away after the completion of the Habilitation but before it was altered into its present https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-002

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form. I can never thank him enough for my love of the universe, and in particular of scholarship, of laughter, of people, of ancient and modern languages. He simply taught me to love and appreciate being loved. I miss him every minute.

Thessaloniki, November 2022

Contents Introduction

1

Chapter  Proto-semantic studies 36 39 . On names, bow and life in Heraclitus . Naming in Parmenides and Empedocles 43 . On yellow bile and semantic discourse in intellectual circles . Embodied equality 52 Chapter  Grammar with perceptual details 55 56 . Correctness of speech . Embodied correctness 61 . Protagoras on grammar 63 . Licymnius, Hippias and Prodicus on grammar . Experiencing grammar 69 . Carving letters, dancing letters 71 Chapter  Approaches to style 78 . Roundness 79 . Pickle brine and the blind . Solemnity 90

87

Chapter  Experiencing genres 95 . Old Comedy defines dramatic genres 95 . Antiphanes and Aristotle on generic composition . Genre classification in other contemporary texts Chapter  Striding in metre 123 . Weapon dance on the flute . Measuring feet 126 . Striking back 130

66

123

111 115

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Chapter  Discourse on language and dialect . Speaking in the fashion of… . Hearing dialects on stage? . Lamb’s speech 143 145 . Greek or Attic?

135 136 140

Chapter  Tracking Homeric criticism 148 . “Stern-posts” and “strengthless heads” 151 154 . Herodotus on Homeric studies . Democritus and Homeric studies 155 . Other fragments on Homeric criticism 162 173 . Homeric criticism in the fourth century BCE Chapter  The importance of being serious 188 . ‘The comic’ and ‘the serious’ 188 . Early critical notions 191 . Late Classical critical methods 196 . The cluster of γελοῖον in criticism: absurd, odd, out of place .. γελοῖον in theatrical performance 201 .. γελοῖον as a critical term 206 209 .. Absurd, odd, out of place Conclusion Abbreviations Bibliography General Index

216 223 224 262

Index vocabulorum Graecorum Index locorum

267

265

201

Introduction Pre-Hellenistic scholarly discourses (ways of constituting knowledge, following Foucault for example) are fundamentally different to their Alexandrian and Roman successors. They are distinctive not in an evolutionary fashion, in the way that a small green plant differs from a tall robust tree, but qualitatively, in its unique generic multi- and inter-disciplinarity, as well as multimediality and intermediality. In this book, which deals with two areas throughout, that of comedy and that of scholarship, I will suggest that comedy mediated the development of scholarly discourses. The self-referential reflections of Archaic poets, the rationalistic approaches of early philosophers, the initial stages of literary criticism, proto-editorial exercises, and the increasing interest in linguistic and critical topics during the Classical age all constituted a consommé of themes and perspectives from which pre-Hellenistic scholarly thought developed. The theatre, however, and comedy in particular, a scene which was rapidly changing during the second half of the fifth century BCE, offered a specific space in which these topics were incorporated and personified.¹ Pre-Hellenistic scholarly thought was fostered, burgeoned and eventually flourished through interaction with comic theatre. ² Comedy created a joyful mode of perceiving rhetoric, grammar, and literary criticism through the somatic senses of the author, the characters, the actors and the spectators. This was due to generic peculiarities including the omnivore mirroring and teasing of contemporary (scholarly) ideas, the materiality of costumes and masks, and the embodiment of abstract notions on stage, in short due to the correspondence between body, language and environment. Sophistic and Presocratic discourses as expressed through the sensorimotor capacities of the playwright, characters, actors and audience are reflected in the multi-faceted metaphoricity of comic language. The materiality of words, letters and syllables in ancient grammar and stylistic criticism is related to the embodied criticism found in Greek comedy.

 On the changeability and evolution of Greek theatre compared to the statics of archaic lyricism, see Finley 1955, 3 – 22.  The understanding of the relationship between society and discourse in this book was influenced by various works of Van Dijk and his thesis that the influence of society on discourse is cognitively mediated by context models: in other words, subjective mental models of the communicative situation. These dynamic models control discourse production and reception and define the pragmatic appropriateness of text and talk. See Van Dijk 2008 and Van Dijk 2009. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-003

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Introduction

Various fundamentally different parameters contribute to the embodiment of scholarly discourses in comedy. On the one hand, the abstract scientific ideas from the sophistical workshops, which were still fresh and new in the fifth century, return to the somatic and sensory images where they have long been in archaic poetry. The sensory images are still very well known to the public from poetry, and that is why novel abstract concepts embodied on stage can be readily accepted.³ On the other hand, the performative materiality of drama and the theatricalisation of contemporary intellectual discussions make even the most abstract ideas perceptible on a haptic and sensorimotor level; a microcosm is thus created in which characters, actors, the author and the audience participate in a shared experience.⁴ Further, the experiential – material, spatial and orientational – imagery drawn from the immediate environment, already familiar to the audience from Archaic poetry, was developed and refined by comic playwrights, who were adapted to the intellectual demands of the fifth and fourth century BCE aesthetic criticism. This book focuses on the interaction of comedy with early scholarship and on the development of Greek scholarly discourse from a fusion of musical, poetic, ritual and critical practice. My primary sources are a range of Archaic and Classical texts related to textual studies, literary analysis and early linguistics, drawing on archaeological evidence such as vases, sculptures and inscriptions to support the literary evidence. Most concepts and motifs that would become characteristic of later Hellenistic and Roman grammar, stylistics, literary criticism, text exegesis and editorial practice – all that we term philology and scholarship today – have their origins in pre-Hellenistic thought and form the basis for the bulk of texts this study deals with. It is by now a well-trodden ground, from Lanata (1963) and Pfeiffer (1968) to Ford (2002), Jensen (2011), Halliwell (2011) and Porter (2010, 2016), among others. What I suggest here, which is where I build on the work of these previous studies, is that the growth of philology in Greece closely linked with the Athenian and other dramatic festivals, and in particular from the genre of comedy. Furthermore, and as will be proposed further on, recent studies in enactivism and distributed cognition provide us with further approaches for interpreting the role and function of comedy in the development of scholarly discourses, as well as the aesthetic experience of the recipients. Scholarly motifs and vocabulary, and their crossovers on both a synchronic and a diachronic level,

 On this process and on the ‘concrete’ character of earlier Greek perception and the shift to abstraction, see Finley 1955, 3 – 22, Pelliccia 1995, 13 – 114, Maslov 2015, 117– 177.  On the much-discussed notion of ‘experience‘ see Scott 1991.

Comedy and the intermediality of genres

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were embodied on stage according to much-discussed theories of distributed cognition; they were understood on motoric-sensory, emotional and spatial levels.⁵ According to the distributed cognition theories, the human mind is not limited to the brain, but is expanded beyond the body and into the environment.⁶ Furthermore, according to contemporary scientific studies, experiencing positive affect expands cognition and facilitates perception, both factors that are of utmost importance for comedy and scholarship to work together.⁷ The interaction of theatre – and especially of comedy! – and scholarship is discussed in this book not only on the basis of textual analysis, but always in the social context of proto-scholarly and theatrical institutions in the polis, where the participants were living persons with somatic reactions in a living political and natural environment.⁸

Comedy and the intermediality of genres A significant element in the study of the expansion of scholarly discourse is the interaction and intermediality of genres.⁹ Various genres and various media play a role in this process. Obscure figures such as the barely-surviving Theagenes of Rhegium may have emended the Homeric text and interpreted it allegorically. Similarly, the fragments of Heraclitus reveal considerations of language, literary criticism and the Homeric text. Historiographers such as Hecataeus and Herodotus reflected Homeric criticism. Sophists such as Protagoras and Prodicus taught rhetoric and ethics, but also grammar and linguistic issues. Finally, in the medical treatises, contemporary critical and linguistic ideas are considered from a scientific perspective. Proto-editions of the Homeric text circulated throughout the Greek world, East to West, including various ’city’-editions and perhaps the first ’personal’ edition by the poet Antimachus. Generic interaction occurred as texts belonging to different genres engaged with each other, as though conversing in fractal patterns. Discourse intermingled

 ‘Embodiment’ is a broad term, but I have used it throughout according to Lawrence Barsalou’s definition, in which thinking is understood as constructing simulations and re-enactments of previous somatic experiences, see Barsalou 1999. See also Csardas 1990 and Rohrer 2007.  On the ’4E cognition theory’ – the human mind being embodied, embedded, enacted, extended and affective – see Kiverstein 2012, 741, and Newen, De Bruin, and Gallagher 2018.  On Aristophanic comedy as a predominantly positive emotive environment, see Varakis-Martin 2019.  On an overview of interactional approaches to emotions and embodiment, see Busch 2020.  On the notion ‘intermediality’, see Rajewsky 2002.

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Introduction

with discourse, one commenting on another while reflecting upon their role within wider currents of contemporary thought. Gorgias wrote on tragedy and epics, whilst Aristophanes commented on epic, philosophy, rhetoric, tragedy and lyrics, and Plato dealt with epic, tragedy and comedy. Comedy of the fourth century BCE in turn interacted with Plato and the Pythagoreans. Hippias and Stesimbrotus were interested in prosodic problems in the Homeric text. Comic playwrights of the same period mocked prosodic errors on stage. The context of rhapsodic contest determined the content and form of certain forms of Archaic poetry and continued to influence fifth-century BCE performative genres. Comic playwrights have not only had to reflect and reuse, but often create a new and appropriate vocabulary for evaluating their own skills and those of their rivals in order to meet contemporary theatrical demands. I will suggest that this twofold process took place simultaneously: comedy reflected on existing past and contemporary discourses, while at the same time generating and producing novel images, ideas, and notions. The evidence conveyed by comedy is in any case both unique and indispensable. Certain terms specific to linguistic studies and to textual and literary criticism are only preserved in comedy, with other sources having not survived. Comedy, as both reflective and inventive, incorporated and developed existent motifs, creating a grotesque and absurd environment for their exploration. However, in my discussion of examples below it will become evident that in some situations such as the treatment of tragedy or the criticism of rival comic playwrights, comedy did not merely reflect the contemporary processes but itself was avant-garde and established a framework for analytical discourse. Comedy played a special role in the cross-over and interaction of genres. It reflected contemporary political and intellectual discourse and offered ideas for its future development, which was only one part of a variety of social discourses brought together on the comic stage, including politics, war, justice, science and philosophy, ethics, athletics, rhetoric and many others. An essential methodological point of this work should be clearly explained here. I examine the relationship of comedy with contemporary scholarly discourses. Hellenistic scholarship is different enough in relation to its pre-Hellenistic forebears and is not the focus of this study. Third-century comedy is also different for other reasons, and its relationship to Alexandrians and Pergamenians should certainly be considered but elsewhere. All this has naturally led me to consider the classical period for both comedy and scholarship and to remain in the pre-Hellenistic period. Comedy dated after the fourth century BCE is usually not considered in this book. Comic texts examined belong predominantly to the realm of so-called Old and Middle Comedy.

Comedy and the intermediality of genres

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My research is focused on motifs and themes referring to language and text that are often attested only once in the whole corpus of Archaic and Classical texts. These have been used to provide information in and of themselves, as well as on the contexts in which they took place. Comedy scrutinised rhetorical and poetic notions of evaluation and also coined new terms by focusing on the notion of the ’laughable’ and ’amusing’.¹⁰ The consideration of humour is therefore of primary importance for the interpretation of these texts, as the comedian’s principal purpose was to entertain, delight, amuse, but also to attack and assault. As soon as scholarly discourse was a target of comedy, it too was rendered amusing and laughable, however sophisticated and serious it might have previously seemed. The comedians’ treatment of scholarly material was thus undoubtedly determined by their humorous aims. As I will suggest, the criterion of ’being ridiculous’, with its roots in Archaic poetry, in fact later became a crucial evaluative principle of fourth century BCE textual and literary criticism. Here, the relationship between laughter and scholarly thought, between comedy and philosophical and rhetorical treatises, reaches its peak. Gorgias, Aristophanes, Sannyrion, Zoilus, Plato and Aristotle all, to varying degrees, discuss the criterion of the ’amusing/ridiculous’ in their own genres. Ideas and motifs that came to be used widely in scholarly thought frequently crossed over from one text, genre or context to another. This rendered a kind of fluidity to the intellectual discourses of the time. The agons in Aristophanes’ Frogs and perhaps in Cratinus’ Archilochoi create binary oppositions in comic criticism. This model of the opposition was known not only from the agonistic rhapsodic content but also from numerous binary structures of opposites in natural philosophy such as in Heraclitus, Parmenides and Empedocles. Comedy thus filtered ideas and insights, re-imagined them and re-created them. Comedy as a source plays an indispensable role for us in the reconstruction of grammar studies in the fifth century BCE. Although Protagoras’ and Prodicus’ treatises have not survived, and the main source on the ’correctness of names’ discourse is Plato, studies on gender congruency and synonyms in Aristophanes’ Clouds and Frogs reflecting other studies on language, metre and rhythm, are attested decades before Plato’s own writing. Extensive passages from Aristophanes’ contemporary playwrights rarely survive, but allusions, designations and metaphors can be arranged into patterns that help our reconstruction of fifth-century thought and contribute to a clear picture of early scholarly discourses.

 On the concept and definition of the γελοῖον, see below p. 201– 215. On the function and interplay of humour and laughter in comedy, see Ruffell 2011, and various contributions in Preisendanz and Warning 1976. On the nature and potentialities of comedy, see Silk 2000.

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Introduction

Whereas previous studies have primarily considered Aristophanic (and recently fragmentary) comedy as a source for literary criticism (Aristophanes’ Frogs for example), the focus here will be different. My research is concerned less with the comedian as critic and the relationship between comedy and literary criticism, and more on the narrative and the set of themes and motifs, often documented in comedy alone, which provide invaluable information on the development of scholarship and the context in which it took place. Aristophanes’ eleven surviving comedies, along with the whole corpus of fragments of Sicilian and Attic comedy, are essential to this study and provide a counterpoint to the corpus of proto-scholarly work mentioned above. Comedy engaged in commentary on its relationship with other genres, and it thus is self-reflective in its consideration of its own role on the stage and in contemporary thought. This led to the development of a further set of vocabulary and motifs in the discussion of comedy’s own creative and productive poetics. It is these motifs and this vocabulary at the crossroads of comedy and proto-scholarship that constitute one of the main concerns of my study.

Early scholarly discourse: what is this? This study would not have been possible without a number of influential major works. My principle argument concerning the formalisation of a vocabulary of textual scholarship in the fifth BCE builds on three monographs already mentioned above: Pfeiffer (1968), Ford (2002) and Porter (2010). Pfeiffer’s work is fundamental in revealing the methodology as well as the corpus, since it defines the parameters of this area of study.¹¹ In his comprehensive history of Classical scholarship from the very beginnings until the end of the Renaissance, Pfeiffer displays a biased perspective to the pre-Alexandrian period in stating that it merely foreshadowed later discussions: only the Hellenistic academies united “formally disconnected activities” into a “self-conscious discipline”.¹² The entire range of his study on pre-Hellenistic philology constitutes around eighty pages only. In this work, it is not only the question of the quantity of information that stands in contrast to Pfeiffer’s first chapters, but rather the genre itself. For this study does not aim to present a history of Classical scholarship as a ’shift’ from the beginning to Alexandria, but is rather a focus on important

 Some other earlier works such as Gräfenhan 1843 – 1850, Maurenbrecher 1908, Gudeman 1909 and Sandys 1921 should be mentioned as well.  Pfeiffer 1968, 3. See the discussion in Ford 2002, 81– 82.

Early scholarly discourse: what is this?

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themes and motifs which were circulating in Archaic and Classical times, in a considerably different, albeit often chaotic, way. Some were to disappear, whilst others were to become of fundamental significance to the development of Hellenistic scholarly discourse. The indispensable study by Andrew Ford on the origins of literary criticism, to which the present monograph owes much, is dedicated for the most part to the same period as this work. Ford’s book has at times been criticised for its excessive linearity in following an evolutionary approach that leads from pre-Platonic criticism through to the agenda of the fourth-century philosophers.¹³ Similarly, late sixth-century Archaic views on song and performance naturally lead to fourth-century poetics. Ford’s argument that the Archaic and Classical periods are of crucial importance to the development of later Alexandrian critical thought is however sound, and I will build on this further here. Furthermore, Ford highlights explicitly that “in the fifth century there was no discipline, no single art or science (τέχνη) dedicated to literary interpretation. For teachers of rhetoric, purely linguistic matters occupied only a part of their teaching, and were useless without mastering techniques of performance (memory and delivery) and adapting all this to the context of delivery”.¹⁴ My principle dispute with this remark concerning the absence of the discipline of ’philology’ in the fifth and fourth centuries BCE, a view common to Pfeiffer and Ford, is that the attempt to apply the notion of a ’discipline’ in its modern sense to ancient scholarship is anachronistic. This is probably the case for much of modern scholarship. Recall that scholars and polymaths such as Dante or Lomonossov wrote treatises on language but never called themselves philologists (unlike, say, von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff) because, following Ford’s description, “purely linguistic matters occupied only a part of their teaching” and they had a much broader spectrum of interests. Their linguistic studies should therefore be discussed in the context of their wider research and, needless to say, within the contexts and paradigms of their time. Indeed, the fields of research in the intellectual culture of the fifth century were strongly ‘predisciplinary’, without rigorously defined methods or discursive shapes.¹⁵ Without employing the term ’discipline’ for pre-Alexandrian scholarly discourse, I intend to locate structures within the chaos of the mostly-fragmentary heritage composed from various genres and ideas. This study will cover the interaction of comedy with

 See e. g. Papaioannou 2003.  Ford 2002, 81– 82.  Billings 2021, 5. On the use of the term ’predisciplinary’ in this context, see Schiappa 1992 and 1996.

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Introduction

pre-Hellenistic texts on language and other literary texts, as well as the evidence for emendation, criticism and the interpretation of these texts. Ford’s principal argument is that literary criticism arises from the contest of singers and song poetics. Recreating the social environment of public singing contests, Ford argues that this was closely connected to the rise of a new vocabulary that placed songs within the changing mentality of the early Classical age. Though this is surely a central element in the construction of scholarly discourse in Archaic and Classical Greece, other components have been partially overlooked. Apart from sympotic and rhapsodic performance, social institutions including theatre, schools and libraries played a role. In the framework of the formation of scholarship, textual emendations and comments, explanation of obsolete words, semantic studies of word meanings and grammar were all important. Finally, the ground-breaking work by James Porter on the sensuous and material apprehension of Greek aesthetic thought elucidated two aesthetic dynamics, formalist and materialist, which permeate Greek theoretical discourse on language and art. Porter discusses aesthetic reflection and experience in preClassical and Classical texts such as Protagoras, Gorgias, Hippias and Prodicus, with a particular emphasis on the literary judgement of Pindar and Aristophanes. He discusses an auditory and visual experience further involving painted and sculpted artefacts as well as vocal and musical aspects. Form becomes “an object of experience in its own right” and is artistically significant, according to Porter, as a material for perception and sensation.¹⁶ This phaenomenological aspect, the materiality and palpability of (literary) form and poetics is a crucial argument that I seek to build on. Remaining in the realm of sensations and materiality, Porter is less interested in the environmental aspect of poetics and criticism. This is where my study of the contribution of comedy, both as performance and as an institution, to scholarly discourse can open further options. From an enactivist perspective, it will be suggested, the whole complex of theatrical engagement, the interaction between audience and actors, between director and playwright, the props, masks and costumes, the theatre as an essential physical environment for a comic playwright and the environment within the theatrical space as a physical and non-physical location: all these play a significant role in the growth and dynamics of critical and narrative evaluation. A number of other studies constitute the necessary basis for analyses of scholarly discourse in the pre-Hellenistic world. I will briefly sum up the main

 Porter 2010, 78.

Early scholarly discourse: what is this?

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achievements in literary criticism, language studies and textual criticism. The works outlined here are by no means the last word on these subjects, and further bibliography is presented throughout the chapters of this work. In the field of literary criticism, the first chapters in certain major reference works such as Denniston (1924), Russell and Winterbottom (1971), Kennedy (1989c) and Laird (2006) are important. The whole context of Archaic and Classical aesthetic criteria cannot be imagined without Porter (2016) and Halliwell (2002, 2011). For the Archaic and Classical poetics in particular, Pohlenz (1920), Lanata (1963), Harriott (1969) and Ledbetter (2003) as well as numerous contributions by Gregory Nagy are fundamental. Of course, various poetological studies on separate authors will be discussed in the chapters below as well. A further branch of relevant ’scholarship’ pertains to the study and philosophy of language. This is sometimes viewed as inseparable from issues of textual scholarship, but has been examined mainly in reference to ideas, concepts and motifs, and less with regard to the actual vocabulary employed. Therefore, the important work Auroux e.a. (2000 – 2006) contains a section on the history of ancient Greek linguistics from the very beginnings through the Classical age, leading to its development in Hellenistic Stoic terminology, as analysed for example in Schmitter (2000). Classen (1959=1976) is still significant for the study of language in sophistic circles, though some publications on Gorgias by Mourelatos (1987), Protagoras by van Ophujsen e.a. (2013) and Prodicus by Mayhew (2011) are of great help as they provide up-to-date accounts of the history of semantics in the Archaic and Classical ages. Numerous publications by Peter Schmitter and Ineke Sluiter are also invaluable. Though controversial in conclusion and sometimes problematic in argumentation, Gera (2003) poses important questions on the nature of language and communication in the Greek world.¹⁷ For the notions of ’meaning’ and ’sign’ Manetti (1993) and Zanker (2016) were helpful. A special field, only partially connected with the growth of philological thought, concerns the philosophy of language and domains in the study on language by Heraclitus and Parmenides that can be distinguished in pre-Platonic thought (Karakulakov (1966) and (1970), Gambarara (1984)). The question on naming and the relationship of the name and the denominated object is central here, constituting the kernel of Plato’s ’linguistic’ dialogues, Cratylus, Theatetes and Sophist. Studies such as those by Gentinetta (1961), Prier (1976), Kraus (1987), Pleger (1987), Borsche (1991), Baxter (1992), Bostock (1994), Sedley (2003) and Diehl (2012) are relevant. Aristotle’s approach to linguistics and to the signification and definition of names have been discussed among others by Weidemann (1991), Ax (1992),

 See the review of Gera’s book, Ford 2006a.

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Introduction

Charles (1994) and (2000), Sedley (1996), Arens (1984) and (2000), Modrak (2001), Whitaker (1996), and De Rijk (2002). Last but not least, an element in the scholarly discourse as set out in this work is textual criticism and editing. Scholarship as “a component of textual criticism and editing”¹⁸ has been the focus of the present research, drawing on other recent work. Cantarella (1967), Richardson (1975), Richardson (1992a, 1992b), Jensen (1980, 2011) and numerous studies by Nagy together constitute a complete picture of Homeric studies before the fourth century BCE. Cantarella considers all extant examples of Homeric criticism in the Greek West, South Italy and Sicily, whilst Richardson famously discusses evidence on “Homeric professors in the age of sophists”. Jensen deals with a complex history of the transmission of oral epics in Archaic times, and in a similar vein the connection between literacy and orality in the transmission of the Homeric text is studied by Nagy. Graziosi (2002) has become the standard work on early Homeric reception from its very beginnings to the Hellenistic era, and contains abundant information on scholarly discourse as well. Recently Montanari with Matthaios and Rengakos (2015) edited two volumes on Ancient Greek scholarship which “springing from Pfeiffer’s work have progressively grown in importance and presence in the current panorama of Classical studies, and now rest on different cultural foundations and orientations”.¹⁹ Montanari (2020) has newly edited Brill’s History of Ancient Greek scholarship. ²⁰ Cassio contributed significantly to the subject including several publications on early epic editions.²¹ So too has Hunter, with cutting-edge observations on early Homeric scholarly criticism such as his analysis of Plato’s dialogues, Ion and Hippias Minor. ²² Recent works on separate authors such as Theagenes of Rhegium and Antimachus of Colophon are discussed and quoted below. To summarise, the early scholarly discourse referred to repeatedly in this book consists of early linguistic, textual and literary-critical insights, ideas, notions, and concepts. These three categories of criticism – linguistic, textual and literary – were to become ever more distinct by the outset of the Hellenistic era.

 I use here the definition of ‘philology’ given by Richard Thomas: “it is a component of textual criticism and editing, the writing of commentaries, stylistic and metrical studies, as well as those modes of interpretation and literary history wherein the notions of “affection,” “respect,” or “close proximity” to the text are maintained”. Cf. Thomas 1990, 69.  Montanari e.a. 2015, ix.  On my chapters in both editions on the history of pre-Alexandrian scholarship, see Novokhatko 2015b and Novokhatko 2020b. For a short useful survey, see also Ford 2009.  Cassio 2002 and 2012.  Hunter 2011 and 2016.

Polis-oriented ’scholarship’ and comedy

11

Here, the discourse is used as an important background for the audience of Sicilian and Attic comedy and for the reflection of the learned debates on stage. Comedy mediated these debates and made them even more popular.

Polis-oriented ’scholarship’ and comedy Unlike its Hellenistic successor, pre-Hellenistic literature, and by extension preHellenistic scholarship, was neither isolated nor locked up in the librarians’ boudoir, but was rather gregarious and society-oriented. It is no coincidence that the books were originally kept in the ‘city archives’ and not in the ‘library’. The figures that I have considered in this book, including Protagoras, Prodicus, Hippias, Plato and Aristotle, focused on the political and ethical values of the city and were thus primarily concerned with the role and function of the individual within the polity. Comedy fits among these works organically; as a polis-oriented and political genre, it materialised and performed the building process of scholarly ideas for its audiences.²³ Textual, literary, and linguistic studies were thus incorporated into, and viewed as a part of, this polity, providing ethical and political paradeigmata. This is a fundamental difference between pre-Hellenistic scholarship and scholarship developed in the Hellenistic and (to a certain extent) Roman periods, where the focus is narrower, and the scholarship is thus rendered dis-embodied. This perspective on the relationship between scholarship and society can contribute to an understanding of the scholarly process in the Hellenistic and Roman worlds also. Drama, and in particular comedy, is a very important source for technical terminology in various disciplines including medicine, rhetoric and natural philosophy (e. g. Willi (2003) and Hubbard (2007)). Modern scholarship of Greek drama has flourished over the last few decades and thus significant advances have been made in the study of the development of technical vocabularies during the fifth century BCE. Given that much material has been lost, drama offers a unique mode of reflection on various contemporary discourses, with trending vocabulary used and reused on stage. In this sense, Billings (2021) is particularly relevant: The author argues that tragedy contributes to philosophical discussion in the classical period and thus has significant philosophical meaning. Tragedy uses the terminology of philosophy to redefine it. This can be mirrored in my study of the relationship between

 On theatre as an important political and societal communication channel, see the contributions in Revermann 2017.

12

Introduction

comedy and scholarly discourse.²⁴ Comedy reflects and redefines scholarly discourse, often creating new ideas and new concepts in the process. The vocabulary of scholarship reflected in dramatic contexts proves to be worthy of analysis, as it sheds light on how these terms were used in literary, linguistic, and textual criticism. Furthermore, as recent studies have shown, comedy as a critical and self-reflective genre created a vocabulary of criticism in and of itself.²⁵ Among many other things, the genre of comedy presupposes the criticism of rivals, and thus an evaluation of their skills, incorporating self-referentiality and self-judgement. By nature of the genre, comic playwrights took part in various contemporary discourses and were forced to mirror and employ an appropriate vocabulary as part of the discussion. An essential part of the vocabulary of literary criticism used in Hellenistic and Roman professional treatises was created in the workshops of Sicilian and Attic playwrights during the fifth century BCE. On several occasions, terms specific to linguistic studies and textual and literary criticism are only preserved in comedy. Comedy thus becomes both the catalyst and the site of the growth of scholarship. The abusive, competitive and self-reflective nature of the genre engendered its engagement with various other genres, so that comedy provided its own literary criticism and coined its own novel terminologies.²⁶ The analysis of comedy is therefore very important. In recent decades, some approaches to the interaction of comedy with other genres have been attempted, though only a few works can be mentioned here:

 This mirror effect continues when Billings explains that he deals with comedy throughout his book “in relation to forms that develop primarily in tragedy. This is possible because of comedy’s marked and self-conscious positioning of itself in relation to other discourses, its openness to the contemporary world, which makes a strong contrast to tragedy’s apparent closure. Old comedy frequently picks up and elaborates ideas, plot elements, and scenic forms from tragedy and philosophical writing, as well as bringing major figures of contemporary intellectual life on stage… Its mode of openness is primarily receptive, and …in comparison to tragedy, Old Comedy does somewhat less productive philosophical work on the scenic forms and questions it engages. Its relation to philosophical thought takes place primarily through parody and critique…” (Billings 2021, 20). Although I could follow the author’s (albeit contentious) statement about the relationship between comedy and philosophy, I would like to transform it in toto with regard to the relationship between comedy and scholarship and claim that what is pertained by Billing about comedy is actually relevant to the scholarly discourse on tragedy, and that what is pertained in his book about tragedy and philosophy will be argued in my book as the stand on comedy and scholarship. In other words, I believe that comedy is as productive and creative in relation to scholarly ideas as tragedy is in relation to philosophical ones.  See Silk 2000; Zimmermann 2004; Wright 2012.  On the critical interaction of comedy with other genres, see various contributions in Bakola e.a. 2013.

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Rau (1967) and Farmer (2017) on the relationship of comedy with its dramatic relative, tragedy; Macía Aparicio (2000) and (2011), Platter (2007) 108 – 142, Revermann (2013), and Farmer (2020) on comedy and epics; Sommerstein (1992) and Rosen (2000) on the engagement of comic playwrights with their rivals, and Silk (2000) on self-exploration and the intentionality of comedy; Zimmermann (1997b) on comedy and dithyramb; and Zimmermann (2000) and Hadjimichael (2019, 59 – 94) on comedy’s criticism of lyric poetry.

‘Scholarly’ discourses: literacy and the society This man here (τοῦτον τὸν ἄνδρ’), claims an Aristophanic character in his Tagenistai: it was either a book that destroyed him (ἢ βυβλίον διέφθορεν), or Prodicus, or one of those idle chatterers (ἢ τῶν ἀδολεσχῶν εἷς γέ τις, fr. 506 PCG).²⁷ The superior power of both the book and the sophist to ruin (διέφθορεν) plays a role in shaping the concept of emotion as a physical force and evokes an equivalence between material and intellectual capacities, between books and people.²⁸ Comedy embodied scholarly discourses. These discourses notably needed a commensurate social environment, made up of scholars who could interpret texts and educated readers who could consume their production. How were scholars educated, by whom, and how many students would they have taught? In other words what was the social context in which scholarly discourses were evolving in Classical Greece? Therefore, a short sketch of the institutional support for the development of scholarly ideas may be useful here. Books must have been sold on the market in late fifth century Athens, where they could be purchased in agora stands beside other wares. Eupolis’ fragment 327 PCG refers to a marketplace “where rolls are for sale” (χοὖ τὰ βυβλί’ ὤνια) beside garlic, onion and incense stands. Aristophanes in his Birds refers to a place in the agora where the Athenians could purchase rolls (τὰ βιβλία) containing decrees from a book-merchant (Av. 1288 – 1289).²⁹ Some years later the word βιβλιοπώλης for “roll-seller” appears, as re-

 Wright 2012, 64.  Cf. Callicles’ argument in Plato’s Gorgias that people are unknowingly “destroyed” if they have become wiser than necessary: ὅπως μὴ πέρα τοῦ δέοντος σοφώτεροι γενόμενοι λήσετε διαφθαρέντες (Pl. Grg. 487d), and Philippides’ character claiming that comedy does not “destroy” the demos: ταῦτα καταλύει δῆμον, οὐ κωμῳδία (Philippides fr. 25.7 PCG). See Hartwig 2022, 241– 243.  Cf. τό βιβλίον/βυβλίον of an oracle-monger with a decree authorising an official inspection in Av. 958 – 991 and 1021– 1034, and the travelling ψηφισματοπώλης, ’decree-seller’, in Av. 1035 –

14

Introduction

vealed by comic fragments (Theopomp. fr. 79 PCG; Nicopho fr. 10.4 PCG; Aristomen. fr. 9 PCG), indicating the beginning of the professionalisation of commercial book production. Despite comic contempt, books remained expensive, as can be seen for example in an Erechtheum building account (408/7 BCE) of two drachmas and four obols for two rolls “on which we inscribed the copies” (IG I3 476, 289 – 291).³⁰ From the end of the fifth century BCE, reading and writing became a regular part of Athenian education.³¹ It is significant however for any argument on the foundations of scholarship that the commercialisation of book culture necessarily presupposed a growing capacity for critical evaluation by those who purchased texts. Comedies reflect society’s increasing interest in readership through allusions to book circulation (Ar. Ra. 1109 – 1118). In Frogs, Aristophanes quotes copiously from Aeschylus’ and Euripides’ texts, there are hints to Euripides’ private book collection (Ar. Ra. 943, 1407– 1409), Dionysus reads Euripides’ tragedy Andromeda to himself (Ar. Ra. 52– 53), someone reads Philoxenus’ cookbook to himself (Pl. fr. 189.1– 4 PCG), and elsewhere it is noted that the power of a book is destructive (Ar. fr. 506 PCG and Theognet. fr. 1.7– 8 PCG).³² However, as the majority of such ’books’ belong to the fourth century, to backdate the existence of widespread literacy to the fifth century remains problematic.³³

1055; cf. βιβλιδάριον Ar. fr. 795 PCG, and βιβλιογράφος/βιβλιαγράφος for “scribe” in Cratin. fr. 267 PCG and Antiph. fr. 195 PCG.  On the purchasing of the βιβλία by Anaxagoras in Athens for the price of one drachma (ca. a day’s salary for a skilled worker or hoplite); for a book sold “in the orchestra” (probably in the market), see Pl. Ap. 26d-e; Phd. 97b. On books found in merchant cases in Thrace, see Xen. An. 7.5.14; on vase painting with cyclic epic from the fifth century BCE in Olbia on the Black Sea, see Vinogradov 1997; see further Harris 1989, 49 – 52; Morgan 1999, 58 – 59. See also Novokhatko 2019.  Cf. Ar. Ran. 1114; Dem. De cor. 258; see also Kleberg 1967, 3 – 10; Revermann 2006, 120; Spelman 2019.  On the relationship of comic performance and reading culture, see recently Henderson 2020. See also Anderson and Dix 2014 and Mastromarco 2006.  On an increase in literacy at this time, see Nieddu 1982, 235; Harris 1989, 114– 115; Morgan 1999, 50 – 51. See also Spelman 2019, 163: “part of the humour here, as scholars now generally agree, derives from attributing to everyone a literate and literary connoisseurship which in fact characterised a minority”. Prose manuals and treatises on a wide assortment of subjects (such as philosophy, economics, rhetoric, science, geography, cooking or horse-riding) served as vehicles for the transmission of knowledge, often setting out standards appropriate to their task: the requirement of investigation, precision in selecting a topic, methods for analysing sources, and attention to technical details. E. g. Pl. Minos 316e, Symp. 177b, Phdr. 266d, 268c, Grg. 518b, Xen. Mem. 4.2.10, Xen. Oec. 16.1. See further Finley 1955, 10 – 11, Demont 1993; Cambiano-CanforaLanza 1992, 379 – 491; Cambiano 1992; Casson 2001, 23; Pollitt 2015, 378. See Cole 1991,

‘Scholarly’ discourses: literacy and the society

15

As has been argued in recent decades, the development of Athenian democracy had a direct connection with the gradual growth of literacy, because the creation of written records necessitated that officials and members of the council of citizens be literate.³⁴ Aristophanes’ Knights provides important evidence on the relationship between literacy and democracy, since the sausage-seller, forced to be a politician, claims no knowledge of music or gymnastics, and only a little knowledge of letters. His collocutor reassures him that an ignorant man is needed to govern the state.³⁵ Scenes of the oracle-speaker (Ar. Av. 959 – 991), the inspector (Ar. Av. 1021– 1034) and the decree-seller (Ar. Av. 1035 – 1055) in Aristophanes’ Birds (414 BCE) reveal concerns about literacy and its potential use and misuse for the purposes of achieving political power.³⁶ Democracy nurtured public rhetoric, and thus also the style of writing appropriate to practising the composition of public speeches.³⁷ Society’s increasing interest in literacy and literature can also be observed in other media. For instance, from the early fifth century onwards, vase paintings suggest that reading was a collective activity.³⁸ Athenian pottery validates read-

71– 80, 115 – 122; Goldhill 2002b, 80 – 110; Vatri 2017, 67– 99. Reportedly, Sophocles wrote a treatise on the chorus in tragedy (καὶ ἔγραψεν …καὶ λόγον καταλογάδην περὶ τοῦ χοροῦ, πρὸς Θέσπιν καὶ Χοιρίλον ἀγωνιζόμενος, Sud. Σ 815 Adler=T2.7), Agatharchus examined the painting of scenery (namque primum Agatharchus Athenis Aeschylo docente tragoediam scaenam fecit et de ea commentarium reliquit, Vitr. Praef. ad lib. vii, 11), Polyclitus in his treatise Canon dealt with the proportions of the human body (καθάπερ ἐν τῶι Πολυκλείτου Κανόνι γέγραπται, Gal. De temper. I 9 p. 42, 26 Helmr.), Ictinus and Carpion composed an account of the Doric temple of Athene on the Acropolis (edidit volumen… item de aede Minervae, dorice quae est Athenis in arce, Ictinos et Carpion, Vitr. Praef. ad lib. vii, 12), Euphranor wrote on symmetry and colours (volumina quoque composuit de symmetria et coloribus, Plin. Nat. hist. 35, 129), and a certain Mithaecus from Sicily put together a cookbook (Μίθαικος ὁ τὴν ὀψοποιίαν συγγεγραφὼς τὴν Σικελικὴν, Pl. Gorg. 518b).  Pébarthe 2006, Thomas 2009, Missiou 2011. See also Thomas 1994 and Sickinger 1999 (especially p. 192– 193 on the gradual process rather than a rapid change in the attitude towards writing). On the eventual political experiences of the early sophists outside Athens, as well as on the backgrounds of Protagoras, Gorgias, Thrasymachus, Prodicus and Hippias, see Robinson 2007.  Ar. Eq. 188 – 193, 1235 – 1242, see also Morgan 1999, 54; Slater 1996, 104.  See Slater 1996, 112.  Ar. Ve. 959 – 961; on the spread of literacy in Greece and especially in Athens, see Harris 1989, 45 – 115; Thomas 2001; Thomas 2009.  For books on vases, see Immerwahr 1964 and Immerwahr 1973, for papyrus rolls on vase painting as a symbol of intellectual creativity, see Whitehorne 2002, 28 – 29. Already by around 476 Pindar’s Muses were, like the poet himself, literate (ἀνάγνωτε, Ol. 10.1). From Pindar and Aeschylus onwards, it became a cliche´ for written texts to celebrate the connection between memory and writing, ‘the putting together of letters, memory of all things, mother of the Muses, worker’ (γραμμάτων τε συνθέσεις, | μνήμην ἁπάντων, μουσομήτορ’ ἐργάνην, [Aesch.]

16

Introduction

ing as part of a perceptible social identity. In the first half of the fifth century BCE sculptures of poets began to appear.³⁹ A new step in the relationship between the author and his audience may be signalled by the depiction of a solitary reader in the second half of the fifth century BCE.⁴⁰ As has been emphasised above, an evaluation of the level of literacy in fifth century Greece requires caution.⁴¹ Written literacy was constantly interacting with the oral tradition, as we can see in the practice of quoting by rote and the highlighted growth of rhetoric.⁴² Gorgias claims in Helen’s last sentence that he wanted to write down his speech (ἐβουλήθην γράψαι τὸν λόγον Ἑλένης μὲν ἐγκώμιον, ἐμὸν δὲ παίγνιον, DK82 B11, 21,4 = D24 Laks-Most).⁴³ Isocrates emphasised the importance of learning to read and write and, accordingly, the actual reading of literature as elements of a rhetorical training (Isoc. Antid. 259 – 267). In the view of Isocrates, reading and writing contributed to cognitive changes in a student’s approach to learning. γράμματα constituted a necessary preliminary for λόγος, that is “reasoned discourse”.⁴⁴ Xenophon considered literacy an aid to aristocratic domestic management (Xen. Oec. 9.10). Niceratus, a character in Xenophon’s Symposion, had a father who made him learn the whole of the Iliad and Odyssey by rote, with a view to his “becoming a good man” (Xen. Symp. 3.5). In the same vein, Aeschines informed jurors that one might as an adult put into practice poets’ statements which one had memorised

PV 460 – 1). Euripides wrote of the deltoi of the Muses (IA 798) and of those who keep the Muses’ constant company through reading (Hipp. 451– 2). Sappho features with her lyre and scroll on a mid fifth century BCE vase. Cf. ARV2 1060.145 with Yatromanolakis 2007, 146 – 60; Dillon 2013, 405.  On statues of Homer, Hesiod, Pindar and Anacreon, some of which are preserved as later Roman copies of Greek originals from the mid fifth century BCE, see Zanker 1995, 20 – 36; for the famous picture of Alcaeus and Sappho on an Attic red-figure kalathos around 470 BCE by the Brygos painter, see Zanker 1995, 32 with further bibliography.  For silent reading, see Eur. fr. 369 TrGF, Ar. Ran. 52– 53, the famous tombstone of a young man with a book-roll from Grottaferrata; see also Johne 1991, 53 – 54 and Johnson 2000, 593 – 600 with further bibliography.  Harris 1989, 102– 111; Ford 2002, 152– 153; Missiou 2011, 109 – 142.  See Ford 2002, 187– 208. On the contemporary intellectual and poetic context, cf. the muchdiscussed ’Sophocles in Ion’ story. Ion of Chios recorded in his Epidemiai an alleged visit to Chios by Sophocles during the Samian War of 441– 440 BCE, where the participants of a dinner, Sophocles and a letter-teacher (γραμμάτων ἐὼν διδάσκαλος), quote and discuss verses of Phrynichus, Simonides and Homer (fr. 6 392 FGrH = 104 Leurini). See Webster 1936; Leurini 1987; Ricchiardelli Apicella 1989; Dover 1986; Ford 2002, 190 – 194; Katsaros 2009.  Schollmeyer 2021, 314– 315.  Cf. Isoc. In soph. 10 – 12; Morgan 1999, 55, 59; on Isocrates’ relationship with oral and written texts and with his audience, see Usener 1994, 13 – 138.

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long ago as a child, and quoted Hesiod to prove it (λέξω δὲ κἀγὼ τὰ ἔπη· διὰ τοῦτο γὰρ οἶμαι ἡμᾶς παῖδας ὄντας τὰς τῶν ποιητῶν γνώμας ἐκμανθάνειν, ἵν’ ἄνδρες ὄντες αὐταῖς χρώμεθα, Aeschin. Ctesiph. 135).⁴⁵ For Aristotle, who regards education as crucial politically, literacy (γράμματα and γραμματική) and drawing were useful for life as they contributed to the training of citizens in virtue.⁴⁶ Four things contribute to education (παιδεύειν εἰώθασι), says Aristotle: letters (γράμματα), gymnastic exercises (γυμναστικὴν) and music (μουσικὴν), to which some people add drawing (γραφικήν). Of these, reading and writing (γραμματικὴν), and drawing (γραφικὴν) are regarded as useful for the purposes of life in a variety of ways (χρησίμους πρὸς τὸν βίον οὔσας καὶ πολυχρήστους), whereas gymnastics (γυμναστικὴν) was directed to manliness (συντείνουσαν πρὸς ἀνδρείαν); but with regards to music (τὴν δὲ μουσικὴν) one might have doubts (διαπορήσειεν ἄν τις, Arist. Pol. 8.1337b 23 – 27). Literacy, both oral and written, was also appraised as valuable for household management, as well as for financial, political and other affairs.⁴⁷ Reading was therefore posited as the basis for education.

‘Scholarly’ institutions Another important precondition of the formation of scholarly discussions is a social support network. Who educated future ‘scholars’ and where? It is unclear whether organised schooling was already established in Greece in the sixth century BCE, though scattered sources do provide some insights into ‘scholarly education’ at the time that the dramatic playwrights were reflecting on and creating ‘scholarly’ discourses. According to a later source, schools were believed to already be in existence by the sixth century BCE; Charondas of Catana is said to have written a law stipulating that the city should provide salaries for teachers, and teachers should teach the sons of citizens to read and write (Diod. Sic. 12.12.4: ἐνομοθέτησε γὰρ τῶν πολιτῶν τοὺς [υἱεῖς] ἅπαντας μανθάνειν γράμ-

 On the way in which Hesiod was quoted and read by rhetoricians in Classical Athens and the link between the fifth and fourth century BCE reception of Hesiod and the contemporary debates on education, see Graziosi 2010.  See Polin 1998, 246 – 247. Cf. Arist. Top. 6.5.142b31: γραμματική is “the knowledge of writing from dictation” (τὴν γραμματικὴν ἐπιστήμην τοῦ γράψαι τὸ ὑπαγορευθέν); cf. Arist. Top. 6.8.146b6: γραμματική is “the knowledge/discipline of letters” (ἐπιστήμην γραμμάτων). On the earliest attested definition of γραμματική, see p. 75 – 76.  Arist. Pol. 8.1338a16 – 18; see Morgan 1998, 10 – 18.

18

Introduction

ματα, χορηγούσης τῆς πόλεως τοὺς μισθοὺς τοῖς διδασκάλοις).⁴⁸ Aeschines maintained that laws governing the operation of elementary schools were ratified during the archonship of Solon in 594 BCE (cf. Aeschin. Tim. 11: ᾿Aναγνώσεται οὖν ὑμῖν τούτους τοὺς νόμους ὁ γραμματεύς, ἵν’ εἰδῆτε ὅτι ὁ νομοθέτης ἡγήσατο τὸν καλῶς τραφέντα παῖδα ἄνδρα γενόμενον χρήσιμον ἔσεσθαι τῇ πόλει).⁴⁹ A later tradition holds that the Spartan poet Tyrtaeus used to be a schoolmaster at Athens (Paus. 4.15.6: καὶ ἦν γὰρ Τυρταῖος διδάσκαλος γραμμάτων νοῦν τε ἥκιστα ἔχειν δοκῶν… τοῦτον ἀποστέλλουσιν ἐς Σπάρτην).⁵⁰ Schools probably existed as formal institutions at the very least in Ionia from the beginnings of the fifth century BCE. A disaster is referred to as having occurred in a school on wealthy Chios while pupils were being taught γράμματα in 494 BCE (παισὶ γράμματα διδασκομένοισι ἐνέπεσε ἡ στέγη, Hdt. 6.27.2); schooling in Mytilene is mentioned (Ἡνίκα τῆς θαλάττης ἦρξαν Μυτιληναῖοι, τοῖς ἀφισταμένοις τῶν συμμάχων τιμωρίαν ἐκείνην ἐπήρτησαν, γράμματα μὴ μανθάνειν τοὺς παῖδας αὐτῶν μηδὲ μουσικὴν διδάσκεσθαι, πασῶν κολάσεων ἡγησάμενοι βαρυτάτην εἶναι ταύτην, ἐν ἀμουσίᾳ καὶ ἀμαθίᾳ καταβιῶναι, Ael. VH 7.15) as well as a calamity in a school involving sixty boys in their seats at Astypalaea in 492 BCE (διδασκαλείῳ δ’ ἐπιστὰς ἐνταῦθα ὅσον ἑξήκοντα ἀριθμὸν παίδων ἀνατρέπει τὸν κίονα ὃς τὸν ὄροφον ἀνεῖχεν, Paus. 6.9.6 – 7); in 480 BCE the Troezenians provided schooling for Athenian children (καὶ τῆς ὀπώρας λαμβάνειν ἐξεῖναι τοὺς παῖδας πανταχόθεν, ἔτι δ’ ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν διδασκάλοις τελεῖν μισθούς, Plut. Them. 10.5); and a massacre occurred in a school in the Boeotian town of Mycalessus in 413 BCE (Thuc. 7.29: καὶ ἐπιπεσόντες διδασκαλείῳ παίδων, ὅπερ μέγιστον ἦν αὐτόθι καὶ ἄρτι ἔτυχον οἱ παῖδες ἐσεληλυθότες, κατέκοψαν πάντας). Ion of Chios in his Epidemiai referred to an erudite ‘teacher of letters’ (ὁ ᾽Ερετριεὺς γραμμάτων ἐὼν διδάσκαλος, Ion BNJ 392 fr. 6) from Eretria in 440/441 BCE. The historicity of state regulations for the establishment of schools in the early fifth century BCE has been questioned due to the lack of clear direct literary evidence.⁵¹ However, vase paintings provide significant evidence of school practices towards the end of the sixth and the early fifth century BCE in Attica. The earliest school scene is an Attic red-figure cup from Vulci (Munich 2607, around 520 BCE, Euergides-painter), followed by an Attic red-figure cup from Spina (Fer-

 Chronological errors point to the unreliability of Diodorus’ evidence (Diodorus transferred the legendary legislator from the sixth century to the colony of Thurii founded in 444/3 BCE). See Harris 1989, 98. However, this remains valid evidence for the significance of universal education as attested in later sources.  Aeschin. In Tim. 9 – 12; see Beck 1964, 92– 94; Too 2001, 118; Knox 1989, 159.  Cf. Sch. Pl. Leg. 629a.  Harris 1989, 57– 59; Robb 1994, 183 – 184 and 207– 208.

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rara T45 CVP, around 500 BCE) and also a cup with a geometry lesson (Louvre G318, around 500 BCE). Other examples include a professional writing lesson presented on an Attic red-figure cup (Basel BS465, around 490 BCE) with a teacher: tablets are open on his knees as he improves or deletes a text, his pupil waiting.⁵² The famous Attic red-figure kylix painted about 490/85 BCE by the artist Douris represents recitation, a flute lesson and a writing exercise as distinct aspects in the school curriculum;⁵³ the writing exercise may be a student’s home assignment in epic composition.⁵⁴ A fragment of a red-figure cup by the Akestorides painter probably depicts the study of poetry (Getty Museum 86 AE 324, around 460 BCE), perhaps a young man with a roll preparing for a recitation of epic.⁵⁵ From the first half of the fifth century, ever more red-figure vases illustrated school scenes and also the daily activities of the young, frequently depicting writing tablets and the use of the stylus.⁵⁶ From the second half of the fifth century, literary education began to differentiate itself from music,⁵⁷ although training in music remained important, as we see in a number of comedies where a music teacher is depicted.⁵⁸ Literary education is also discussed in Aristophanes’ Clouds. In the debate between the two anthropomorphised speeches, the Kreittōn Logos asserts that in “the old days” (τὴν ἀρχαίαν παιδείαν ὡς διέκειτο, v. 961) lyre (εἰς κιθαριστοῦ, v. 964) and gymnastics teachers (ἐν παιδοτρίβου, v. 973) were sufficient for the young, whereas they had now both been superseded by sophistic ideas and the theatre of Euripides (Ar. Nub. 889 – 949, 961– 983, 1002– 1023). The passage shows a clear differentiation between physical training, music, and letters in education (cf. also Ar. Eq. 987– 996) and is structured around a clear conflict between these aspects that, at this stage, had come to be seen as separate components of a standard education. The Aristophanic Euripides symbolically ejects music from education

 More in Pöhlmann 1989, 76 – 79; Beck 1975, 18, 22; Harris 1989, 97.  Berlin F 2285 (Beazley 205092); see Immerwahr 1964, 19; Pöhlmann 1989, 78.  Sider 2010, 552.  Immerwahr 1973, 143 – 144; Robb 1994, 186 – 187.  Winter 1916; Immerwahr 1964; Immerwahr 1973; Beck 1975, plates 9 – 15, 69 – 75; Robb 1994 185 – 188.  Morgan 1999, 46 – 48; Pritchard 2015; cf. Quint. Inst. 1.10.17; sch. Dion. Thrax, in GG I/3 490.5.  The musician and music teacher Lamprus was mocked by Phrynichus (fr. 74 PCG); Konnos was known as Socrates’ music teacher (Ameipsias’ comedy Konnos frr. 7– 10 PCG; Pl. Euthd. 272c, Menex. 236a); Cleon in Aristophanes’ Knights featured a music teacher (Ar. Eq. 987– 996), as mentioned above; Eupolis’ Aiges included a teacher of music and grammar (Eup. frr. 17, 18 PCG); and Plato apparently wrote a comedy which included Pericles’ music teacher (Pl. Com. fr. 207 PCG). On the function of musical education in Classical Athens, see MurrayWilson 2004.

20

Introduction

to focus on innovations (λέξον τι τῶν νεωτέρων, ἅττ’ ἐστὶ τὰ σοφὰ ταῦτα, Ar. Nub. 1370), one of which is the written text.⁵⁹ Euripides is directly connected to reading and books elsewhere in Aristophanes (cf. Euripides referring to books in Ar. Ran. 943: χυλὸν διδοὺς στωμυλμάτων, ἀπὸ βιβλίων ἀπηθῶν, and Aeschylus referring to Euripides’ books in Ar. Ran. 1409: ἐμβὰς καθήσθω, ξυλλαβὼν τὰ βιβλία).⁶⁰ In Euripides’ fragmentary tragedy Erechtheus the chorus speaks about reading as a leisure activity to be pursued in the peaceful days of old age: Eur. fr. 369 TrGF δέλτων τ’ ἀναπτύσσοιμι γῆρυν ᾅ σοφοὶ κλέονται …and I could unfold the voice of the tablets through which the wise are celebrated

The sort of people ‘who have the writings of older men and themselves are always among the Muses’ (ὅ σοι μὲν οὖν γραφάς τε τῶν παλαιτέρων | ἔ χουσιν αὐτοί τ’ εἰσὶν ἐν μούσαις ἀεί, Eur. Hipp. 451– 2) could afford texts and did not need to pursue more practical concerns elsewhere. Like going to school, reading is thus shown as an elitist leisure activity.⁶¹ The symposion was a focal point for the communal expression of elite identity, and early intensive reading was crucial to be able to perform memorised texts at symposia.⁶² One ‘practical’ aim of early schooling was preparing a

 Cf. also Euripides versus Aeschylus and Simonides in Ar. Nub. 1361– 1376.  Cf. also Ar. Ran. 52– 53. See Sommerstein 1996, 161 and 239, and Scodel 2011. In tragedy, allusions to books are rare, cg. Eur. Alc. 962– 969; Hipp. 954.  ‘Reading’ here is understood as ‘reading poetry’ and such like. There were other uses of reading, such as among craftspeople. The leisure to pursue poetry is referred to in Greek poetry from early on: Od. 1.159 – 60: τούτοισιν μὲν ταῦτα μέλει, κίθαρις καὶ ἀοιδή, ῥεῖ’, ἐπεὶ ἀλλότριον βίοτον νήποινον ἔδουσιν; Pind. Pyth. 4.295 – 296: ἔν τε σοφοῖς δαιδαλέαν φόρμιγγα βαστάζων πολίταις ἡσυχίᾳ θιγέμεν, fr. 129.7: τοὶ δὲ φορμίγγεσσι⸥ τέρποντα⸤ι; Eur. Suppl. 882– 7, especially 882– 883: παῖς ὢν ἐτόλμησ’ εὐθὺς οὐ πρὸς ἡδονὰς Μουσῶν τραπέσθαι πρὸς τὸ μαλθακὸν βίου, fr. 187, 3 TrGF: μολπαῖσι δ’ ἡσθεὶς τοῦτ’ ἀεὶ θηρεύεται, cf. fr. 198 TrGF; Ar. Ran. 729: καὶ τραφέντας ἐν παλαίστραις καὶ χοροῖς καὶ μουσικῇ, cf. Ar. fr. 232 PCG. Cf. further also Ps.-Xen. Ath. Pol. 1.13: Τοὺς δὲ γυμναζομένους αὐτόθι καὶ τὴν μουσικὴν ἐπιτηδεύοντας καταλέλυκεν ὁ δῆμος, νομίζων τοῦτο οὐ καλὸν εἶναι, γνοὺς ὅτι οὐ δυνατὸς ταῦτά ἐστιν ἐπιτηδεύειν; Isoc. 7.45: τεκμηρίῳ χρώμενος τῇ περὶ τὴν ἄλλην παιδείαν φιλοπονίᾳ; cf. Arist. Pol. 1338a13 – 32.  On the symposion as an intellectual institution, see Murray 1983, Vetta 1983, Slater 1991, and Ford 2002, 25 – 45; see Ford 2002, 66 on the symposion as “a prime place to ’publish’ the ideas of innovative thinkers”.

‘Scholarly’ institutions

21

young man to participate in such occasions.⁶³ Schools developed and managed the memorisation of written texts.⁶⁴ This word ‘school’ leads us to question the extent to which ‘scholarly discourses’ were conducted within an institutional framework or enjoyed institutional support during the Classical age. Institutional environments supporting the development of scholarly discourses can be located in many societies. Archives and libraries constitute necessary institutions. The surviving literary sources do not provide enough information on when the first libraries appeared and what they looked like in ancient Greece.⁶⁵ According to later tradition, the early tyrants were known collectors of books. Libraries or book collections did not exist as public institutions. Rather, from the first moment of the appearance of books, wealthy people started collecting them, thus establishing private libraries. There may have been a library at Miletus which supported the studies of Greek natural philosophy by the time of the tyrant Thrasybulus at the end of the seventh century BCE.⁶⁶ The library of the tyrant Peisistratus is mentioned in various later sources.⁶⁷ The tyrant Polycrates of Samos was interested in poetry. He invited poets such as Ibycus and Anacreon to court and is said to have possessed a collection of books.⁶⁸ It is important to note that book collections and archives were located in many small cities throughout Greece, not only in Athens. This is evidence of a certain spread of knowledge throughout Greece. Examples include the book collection in Salmydessus in Thrace (Xen. An. 7.5.14: ἐνταῦθα ηὑρίσκοντο πολλαὶ μὲν κλῖναι, πολλὰ δὲ κιβώτια, πολλαὶ δὲ βίβλοι γεγραμμέναι), Heraclitus’ book deposited in the temple of Artemis in Ephesus (Diog. Laert. 9.5 – 6: Τὸ δὲ φερόμενον αὐτοῦ βιβλίον ἐστὶ μὲν ἀπὸ τοῦ συνέχοντος Περὶ φύσεως… ἀνέθηκε δ’ αὐτὸ εἰς τὸ τῆς ᾿Aρτέμιδος ἱερόν, cf. Tatian. Ad Gr. 3.12 Schwartz), and a private book collection in Aegina (Isocr. Aegin. 5: ἀποθνῄσκων ἐκεῖνος τάς τε βίβλους τὰς περὶ τῆς μαντικῆς αὐτῷ κατέλιπεν καὶ τῆς οὐσίας μέρος τι τῆς νῦν οὔσης

 Cf. Ar. fr. 235; on the aristocratic context of the symposion, see Murray 2018, 140 – 142. See also Griffith 2015, 43 and Reitzenstein 1893, 32: ‘die Schule hat auch hier nur fü r das Leben vorbereitet’.  Scribner and Cole 1981, 221– 233; Vatri 2017, 137– 138 n. 34. For the psychology of memorisation and oral tradition, see Rubin 1995 and Small 1997.  The defining book on the early Greek libraries is Platthy 1968. See also Jacob 2013.  Wendel 1949, 22– 23.  Cf. Aul. Gell. NA 7, 17, 1.  Cf. Ath. 1.3a; Paus. 7.26.13; Tert. Apol. 18.5; Ep. 34.1; Isid. Etym. 6.3.3 – 5. See further Platthy 1968, 97– 110; Nicolai 2000, 220 – 223.

22

Introduction

ἔδωκεν).⁶⁹ At Cos and at Cnidos, where medicine flourished, there may have been collections of medical books.⁷⁰ Archives were also a system for the collection of written texts, particularly official documents. As was the case in the Ancient Near East and Egypt onwards, archives and libraries were traditionally connected with shrines and temples.⁷¹ The first public building in Athens to have kept records of the council and assembly was the Μητρῷον (from the shrine of the Mother of the Gods located there), established at the end of the fifth century BCE.⁷² Little is known on the filing of documents and their accessibility. The assistants of the secretary of the council worked with these documents, with a public slave serving as a clerk. An average citizen would not have been able to locate a document without assistance. In any case the Μητρῷον marked an important shift in social relationships to the written text; this was the first official collection of documents, thus fostering perhaps an archival mentality that was to become characteristic of the later archives and libraries of Hellenistic times.⁷³ Towards the end of the fifth century BCE a number of libraries belonging to private persons are mentioned in texts. Euripides was believed to have a book collection.⁷⁴ Xenophon reports that Euthydemus had a large collection of writings. Indeed, Euthydemus is supposed to have boasted that he would continue “collecting books until he had as many as possible”, including not only poetry and philosophy but also all the works of Homer.⁷⁵ Plato’s Academy must also have had a library. According to various later sources, Plato bought the three volumes of the Pythagorean philosopher Philolaus.⁷⁶ The first reference to a public library relates to Pontic Heraclea in Bithynia, established before the middle of

 For more, see Platthy 1968, 144– 167.  Strab. 14.2.19; Plin. N.H. 29.1. Platthy 1968, 89, 146 – 148, 159; Nicolai 2000 226. For the possibility that texts were held in the shrine of the Muses on Helicon, as suggested by the later tradition, see Nicolai 2000, 214– 219.  Speyer 1992, 85.  Shear 1995, 185 – 186. See also Sickinger 1999, 93 – 138 and Battezzato 2003, 10.  For epigraphic and literary evidence referring to the city archive Μητρῷον and for the establishment of archives in the context of the interaction between oral and written culture, see Thomas 1989, 38 – 45 with further bibliography and Shear 1995.  Cf. Ar. Ran. 943, 1409, Ath. 1.3a. See Pinto 2013, 89 n. 17.  Xen. Mem. 4.2.1.10. See Jacob 2013, 59 – 63; Pinto 2013, 90.  Gell. NA 3.17; see Diog. Laert. 3.9, 8.84– 85; Platthy 1968, 121– 124 and Pinto 2013, 90 n. 21. On the hypothetical reconstruction of Plato’s library, see Staikos 2013, especially pp. 9 – 12 and 158 – 162.

‘Scholarly’ institutions

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the fourth century BCE by the tyrant Clearchus who studied with Isocrates and Plato in Athens.⁷⁷ In Alexis’ comedy Linos Heracles is told by his teacher to select any book from a vast collection of papyrus rolls (Orpheus, Hesiod, tragedy, Choerilus, Homer, Epicharmus and others), and Heracles chooses a cookery book by a certain Simos.⁷⁸ In Philemon’s fragment the audience should expect the evaluation of written Homeric epics: “Take Homer as a proof of this: for he writes us thousands of verses (μυριάδας ἐπῶν γράφει), but nobody has ever called Homer tedious”.⁷⁹ Reading Homeric text was thus part of the current discourse in the late fourth century BCE. Furthermore, the earliest use of the word βιβλιοθήκη meaning “book-case” comes from this time as well: the comic poet Cratinus the Younger used this word in his play Hypobolimaios. ⁸⁰ It is likely that small technical libraries circulated in the fourth century BCE. For instance, in the passage quoted above Isocrates mentions a seer who had a book collection on mantic art (τάς τε βίβλους τὰς περὶ τῆς μαντικῆς) and left this collection to his friend, who used it for practising the art himself.⁸¹ However, it would seem that the first systematic library with an extensive archive was established at Aristotle’s school.⁸² For this reason Aristotle was known in later antiquity as the first collector of books (πρῶτος ὧν ἴσμεν συναγαγὼν βιβλία καὶ διδάξας τοὺς ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ βασιλέας βιβλιοθήκης σύνταξιν).⁸³ The books of Aristotle’s school were left to the physician Diocles, and this collection perhaps served as an example for the libraries at Alexandria and Pergamum.⁸⁴ The quality of the school’s library may have declined after Theophrastus’ death in 287 BCE, with the apparent loss of some of Aristotle’s works by Neleus of Scepsis

 Recorded by Nymphis from Heraclea, cf. FGrHist 434, frr. 1, 2, pp. 337– 38; see Platthy 1968, 158; Pinto 2013, 94– 95.  Alex. fr. 140 PCG, Ath. 4.164b-d, Arnott 1996, 406 – 415; Knox 1989, 166; Casson 2001, 28; Pinto 2013, 88.  Philem. fr. 99, 5 – 7 PCG. See Mastellari 2022. See also p. 185 – 186 below.  Crat. Jun. fr. 11 PCG, Poll. Onom. 7.211.  Isocr. Aegin. 5 – 6; Pinto 2013, 88 – 89.  On Aristotle’s archival studies in the form of lists of the victors at the Olympic games (Ὀλυμπιονῖκαι), at the Pythian games (Πυθιονῖκαι, Πυθιονικῶν ἔλεγχος), of victories in the dramatic contests of the Dionysia (Νῖκαι Διονυσιακαὶ) and of the performances of plays at the Dionysia (Διδασκαλίαι, Diog. Laert. 5.26), see Blum 1991, 23 – 43. On Aristotle’s library, see Blum 1991, 52– 64 and Pinto 2013, 90 n. 21.  Strab. 13.1.54: “Aristotle was—to the best of our knowledge—the first to have collected books and to have taught the kings in Egypt how to put a library together”. See Jacob 2013, 74– 76.  Platthy 1968, 89, cf. also Lapini, 2015.

24

Introduction

and his heirs in their peregrinations from Athens to Scepsis, then back to Athens and further to Rome.⁸⁵ By the end of the fourth century BCE – a borderline point at which my focus in this book ends – the fundamental requirements for the creation of a library such as the Alexandrian had been met: works on a wide diversity of issues were obtainable, archives and scriptoria existed for keeping copies and copying in multiple ways, and copies of the texts were sold.⁸⁶ The much-discussed decree of Lycurgus ordering fixed written versions of the works of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides played an important role in the process of establishing public libraries, as these texts could then be referred to as reliable versions.⁸⁷

Technical language of scholars This book is concerned with the construction of early scholarly discourse. A prerequisite for the development of a technical discourse is professional vocabulary; as subdivisions of knowledge each have their own objects and concepts, any new discipline requires a technical vocabulary or a ’special language’ which can designate and discuss these relevant concepts.⁸⁸ If an ur-form of philology and textual scholarship was already in development before the Alexandrian period, the best proof of this would be a special ’philological’ vocabulary. The distinctions between rhetoric and literary criticism, literary criticism and textual criticism, and textual criticism and grammar studies were rarely straightforward. The technical vocabulary used in all these areas generally belonged to the discipline of analysing literary texts (the point of interaction between language and a multidimensional and changing reality). If this condition is accepted, then “we should talk about vocabularies, understood as the collection of particular uses of the…

 Strab. 13.1.54; Jacob 2013, 66 – 74. See also Canfora 1999, 17– 20, Battezzato 2003, 22– 25, and Montana 2020, 150, 242– 244.  For an overview of the first Greek libraries up till the end of the fourth century BCE, see Blanck 1992, 133 – 136. For the Alexandrian library, see Montana 2020, 150 with further bibliography.  Plut. Mor. 841 f; Paus. 1.21.1– 2. On Lycurgus and his programme, see Mossé 1989, Scodel 2007, 149 – 152, González 2013, 435 – 447, and Hanink 2014, 60 – 91. On Lycurgus in the context of the conservation of classical texts in the fourth century BCE, see also Battezzato 2003, 10 – 12, 14– 19.  On the methodology of the approaches to terms and ’special language’ in general, see Reformatskij 1961; Reformatskij 1968; Rey 1979; Hoffmann 1985; Fluck 1996; Hoffmann, Kalverkämper and Wiegand 1998; Cabré 1999; Leichik 2014; Humbley, Budin and Laurén 2018.

Technical language of scholars

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language and its varieties, pronunciation, morphology and syntax, which are all part of the common language”.⁸⁹ In descriptive linguistics these vocabularies are designated ’special languages’ (Fachsprachen) or ’languages for special intentions’. It is perhaps an exaggeration to claim that a professional language already existed in the scholarly circles of preAlexandrian Greece, but certain movements towards such a language and certain clusters of words served as groundwork for the development of technical languages used by the Alexandrian and Pergamene philologists. Language can be defined on five fundamental levels: phonological, morphological, lexical, syntactic, and on the level of discourse.⁹⁰ Technical languages develop new words and terminology on any of these levels, for example using morphemes or new syntactic structures in order to create new clusters of words. Following this, further criteria for the ’speciality’ of a language should be emphasised: that there is limited occurrence within a definite sphere of communication, and that the ‘specific’ language be understood within the context of the topics discussed. Also included in these criteria are: association with a specialist discipline, standardisation in usage, (ideally) monosemy, expressive neutrality, and non-usage by the non-specialist and thus its subjective classification as ’technical’ by the average native speaker.⁹¹ Again, medical language is an obvious example of such a ’speciality’ in ancient Greek, but the growing fields of rhetoric and poetics also required technical terms. In this study I suggest that Attic comedy makes use of a plethora of communication gaps between the general population and people who had learnt some form of scholarly vocabulary for the purposes of the complex mixture of laughter and seriousness so typical of comedy. However, some caveats apply here regarding the use of modern terminology theories.⁹² There are indications that in some fields, such as medicine, mathematics or legislation, technical languages had already been developed in Classical Greece.⁹³ Due to the loss and fragmentary survival of a large number of fifth century BCE texts it is hard to draw a definite conclusion with regard to the growth of these technical languages. It is sufficient here to note a general aware-

 Cabré 1999, 62 and Quemada 1978.  Cabré 1999, 56. In Russian the term ’languages for special purposes’ (языки для специальных целей) is fixed, cf. Leichik 2014, 76 – 88; Hoffmann, Kalverkämper and Wiegand 1998, and recently Humbley, Budin and Laurén 2018.  Willi 2003, 69. See also Cabré 1999, 61– 62 with further bibliography.  Leichik 2014, 225 – 237.  See Wiili 2003, 70 – 95 with the lists of ’terms’ for legal language (72– 79), medical language (79 – 87), literary criticism (87– 94). See also Wenskus 1998 and Schironi 2010, 353 with the useful list of further reading.

26

Introduction

ness among the population of the existence of these languages at least as early as the fifth century BCE. The language of mathematics is by nature concise. It is easier to define than the language of rhetoric, or the meta-language of textual and literary criticism. In all probability, sophistic training in rhetoric and text interpretation led to the creation of a specific vocabulary describing the study of language and text, thanks to future orators studying language, literary texts, and the works of established professional circles as part of their training. Here a crucial distinction must be drawn: the vocabulary of scholarship was expanding and developing, but I have deliberately avoided using the noun ’terminology’ for this vocabulary. The word ’term’ itself by definition presupposes its use by a restricted group of speakers, united by the same professional activity and not accessible to a broad community of people.⁹⁴ Terms in specific contexts should thus be given specific meanings which deviate from their definitions in other contexts and in everyday language. In the case of the professional language of a scribe, for example, many words such as ποινικάζειν, ἐγγράφειν, ἐγκολάπτειν, ἐντέμνειν, ἐναλίνειν, ἀλοκίζειν, ἐπίγραμμα, γραμματεύς, γραφεύς, ἀντίγραφον, γραμματεύειν, πίναξ πτυκτός, γραμματεῖον (δίθυρον), κηρός δύσνιπτος, ἐπιτήκειν τὸν κηρὸν, ἐξαλείφειν, σανίδες, λίθος (λευκός), χάρτης, κύρβεις, βιβλιδάριον, βύβλος/βίβλος, and πτυχαὶ βύβλων/γραμμάτων, belong to the special vocabulary of writing. This does not however necessarily render all of them ’technical terms’.⁹⁵ Other people who did not work with reading and writing must surely have used many of these words as part of their everyday routine. This vocabulary and the semantic field of reading and writing were growing during the fifth century BCE as reading and writing themselves were becoming more and more important. However, very few of these words were ’terms’ as such and, due to limited surviving ma-

 There is no single common definition of ’term’; in fact there are more than forty definitions. Leichik 2014, 32 formulates as following: “The term is a lexical unit of a certain language for special purposes, denoting a general – concrete or abstract – concept of the theory of a specific special field of knowledge or activity” (Термин – лексическая единица определенного языка для специальных целей, обозначающая общее – конкретное или абстрактное – понятие теории определенной специальной области знаний или деятельности). However, as an important criterium for ‘term’, the restrictiveness to the special language is highlighted below: “the terms appear as such in the vocabulary of the language for special purposes, and not in the vocabulary of a natural language in general” (термины фигурируют как таковые именно в лексике ЯСЦ, а не в лексике того или иного естественного языка в целом). On terms, see also Rey 1979, 39 – 42 and Cabré 1999, 80 – 114.  On the (technical) vocabulary of writing in pre-Classical and Classical Greek, see Novokhatko 2020a.

Technical language of scholars

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terial, it is hard to prove which words were indeed used by a restricted group of people focused on the same professional interests, and which were used more broadly. Bearing these restrictions in mind, one can imagine that a growing interest in the literary text and the analysis of language was followed by the need to name new concepts and phenomena discovered in the developing discipline, such as various genre and metre designations in literary criticism (e. g. διθύραμβος, δρᾶμα, ἰάμβος, ἐνόπλιος, δάκτυλος, ἀνάπαιστος), modes of speech (e. g. εὐχωλή, ἐρώτησις, ἀπόκρισις, ἐντολή), and the gender of nouns in grammar and linguistic studies (ἄρρενα, θήλεα, σκεύη), notions of emendation, attribution and athetesis, and prosody and punctuation in textual criticism (such as ἐμποιέω, διορθόω, λύω, προσῳδία, προστικτέον, διαστίζω, παράσημον, παραγραφή).⁹⁶ Various mechanisms of developing vocabulary and creating new words have been described here: derivation by adding an affix to an existing root; the inverse of derivation, or back formation, by the removal of an affix; the compounding of two existing words; loanwords by borrowing from another language; onomatopoeia by creating a word by imitating the sound it is supposed to make; reduplication through repetition of a word or sound. Errors, misspellings, mis-hearings and such like also contribute to the creation of new words. Finally, metaphors and metonymies discussed repeatedly over the course of this book are a sine qua non for the creation of a new vocabulary. To understand abstract concepts, people systematically conceptualise them in terms of concrete concepts. Metaphors are particularly useful when a new field appears, demanding new vocabulary. The 4/2/2016 article “How new words are born” by A. Bodle in the Guardian discusses modern English: “Shakespeare is often held up as a master neologist, because at least 500 words (including critic, swagger, lonely and hint) first appear in his works – but we have no way of knowing whether he personally invented them or was just transcribing things he’d picked up elsewhere. It’s generally agreed that the most prolific minter of words was John Milton, who gave us 630 coinages, including lovelorn, fragrance and pandemonium. Geoffrey Chaucer (universe, approach), Ben Jonson (rant, petulant), John Donne (self-preservation, valediction) and Sir Thomas More (atonement, anticipate) lag behind. It should come as no great surprise that writers are behind many of our lexical innovations. But the fact is, we have no idea who to credit for most of our lexicon.”⁹⁷

 On the special vocabulary in grammar and rhetoric in Greek, see Funke 1998.  https://www.theguardian.com/media/mind-your-language/2016/feb/04/english-neologismsnew-words, accessed 19.10. 2022. On the function of metaphor and idiom in terminology, see Skirl and Schwarz-Friesel 2013, 34– 48.

28

Introduction

The argument of the article can easily be adapted to fifth and fourth century Greek, with comic playwrights standing in for the major names of English literature. That the growing vocabulary of both literary and linguistic studies employed the old and created the new metaphors, and that comic playwrights reflected this vocabulary whilst using, re-using and creating metaphors, is the best proof for the gradual establishment of a new discourse.⁹⁸ Studies over the last forty years have contributed new ideas to this field. The much-discussed cognitive/conceptual approach to metaphor presupposes the linguistic realisation of metaphorical domains or concepts, relating linguistic metaphor to conceptual process and integrating the comprehension of metaphor into a theory of conceptualisation, when clusters and concepts are borrowed and transferred.⁹⁹ Conceptual structure arises from preconceptual experience, structured in terms of basic-level categories, simple structures and orientations that constantly recur in our everyday experience, such as paths, forces, containers, up-down, part-whole, and so on.¹⁰⁰ Abstract conceptual structure, by contrast, is held to be indirectly meaningful in that it arises from basic-level and imageschema structure by metaphorical projection, or by projection to superordinate or subordinate categories. In metaphorical projections like “theories are containers”, the “target domain” [the concept of ‘theory’] is structured in terms of some more familiar and initially more elaborately structured ’source domain’ [the concept of ‘container’]”.¹⁰¹ This process contributes to the visualisation of a new concept by referencing its resemblance to a more common and familiar structure. ¹⁰² Metaphor is a phenomenon of everyday speech and thought, mapping and blending domains of experience and cognition. It is also one of the greatest weapons for talking about ideas and experiences that are difficult to articulate using more literal language.¹⁰³ Metaphors are all-pervasive, found in every area of human thought and

 It was Aristotle who famously posited the formulation that “metaphor consists in giving the thing a name that belongs to something else” (Arist. Poet. 21.1457b).  On the cross-cultural scope of conceptual metaphor and its application to theatrical texts, see Budelmann 2010, 114– 116. On the close connection between conceptual metaphor theory and the embodiment hypothesis, see Rohrer 2007, 32– 33.  Cf. e. g. these domains in particular along with other domains as an organising principle of book content in Nünlist 1998 and Wright 2012, 103 – 140.  Lakoff and Johnson 1980; Johnson 1987; Kövecses 2010, 107– 120. See also Leezenberg 2001, 136.  For metaphorical language in Greek medical texts, see Vegetti 1983 and Skoda 1988. For metaphors in the language of rhetoric and literary criticism, see Van Hook 1905, O’Sullivan 1992, Willi 2003, 87– 94; Hubbard 2007; Worman 2015. Cf. also O’Regan 2017.  Gibbs 2017, 223. On conceptual metaphor and blending, see Dancygier 2017.

Comedy and embodiment

29

expression; they are whole systematic sets of corresponding elements between two domains of experience, not merely the comparisons of two isolated entities; they use more concrete domains to understand more abstract domains; they occur primarily in thought; conceptual metaphors arise from embodied experience; the metaphorical structures arising from our shared experience of embodiment are ‘predominantly universal’.¹⁰⁴ Metaphorical language is perhaps the most prolific in Greek medicine, but, as will be proposed, the role of metaphors in the growing vocabulary of scholarship is also substantial, and how comedy works with ‘scholarly’ metaphors, creates its own metaphors, and responds to metaphors that already exist is particularly important.

Comedy and embodiment Throughout this work I will suggest that the elements that would form the methodological and epistemological basis for scholarship, allowing it to flourish in the third century BCE in particular, had been developed by the end of the fifth century BCE. Direct evidence from pre-Hellenistic vocabulary documented in various genres reflects contemporary debates, as well as self-reflection related to such debates. This is sufficient evidence of the diverse and active manner in which the form, size and methods of scholarly discourse developed during the fifth century and crystallised during the fourth century BCE. This book aims to use inscriptions and fragmentary drama to shed new light on well-known dramatic texts. Of primary importance to this reflection on scholarly discourses and vocabulary are the plays of tragic and comic playwrights, as well as the institution of theatre itself since it impacted on the social and political lives of its Greek audience, and the audience experienced these discourses as live performative events. A significant contribution of the playwrights to the history of scholarship survives only in fragments, a contribution that has been underestimated and understudied until now.¹⁰⁵ The argument for the primary role of theatre in the embodiment of scholarly discourses in Athenian (or Sicilian, in Epicharmus’ case) society builds on the recent study of Greek theatre by Meineck (2018). Meineck reveals how the cognitive

 Kövecses 2017, 13 – 19 and Lancaster 2021, 243 – 244.  Some insights can be found in Conti Bizzarro 1999, Olson 2007, Wright 2012, Farmer 2017, and Framer 2020.

30

Introduction

sciences can illuminate Greek literature, politics, and society.¹⁰⁶ He approaches Greek tragedy from an experiential perspective as embodied live-enacted events whilst analysing how certain performative elements impacted its audiences, creating absorbing narrative action, emotional intensity, intellectual reflection, and strong feelings of empathy, with new approaches to text, space, masks, body movements, gestures, music and emotions. As Meineck argues, “theatre’s ability to transport its audiences across temporal, cultural, and social boundaries and to absorb them in the emotional worlds of other people is essential for a citizenry who are to be full participants in any functioning democracy and be able to have any understanding or empathy for people who are not like them”.¹⁰⁷ The embodiment of discourse in drama is a mode of attention to detail that sharpens sensory receptivity to the particularity of things, emotional involvement in everyday actions and objects, and a critical view of ways of thinking about everyday practices.¹⁰⁸ The presence and effects of embodied modes of reception and perception such as sense-perception, memory, intuition, imagination, and emotional responsiveness are notably made manifest in the body. Somatic behaviour, expression and action are essential for understanding the complex and multiple ways in which we communicate with our environment. Environmental theories that understand perception as a combination of the person’s environment and how the person interacts with it, thus creating a novel understanding of the experience of the individual, have already been applied to the performative dynamics of Greek theatre. In the theatre, the interplay between the physical world of the structure of the theatre and the natural one, and the fictional setting, between the world visible to the spectators and the one evoked by the powers of the imagination, was emphasised. Rehm’s study of the ecology of the Greek theatre, one that “nested” fifth-century theatrical space within other significant social, political and religious spaces of Athens, was a significant step in experiential studies of Greek drama from cognitive perspectives.¹⁰⁹ Dramatic performance presupposes an audience’s response. Unlike a theoretical treatise written in order to be read in solitude, or a speech written to persuade the listeners in an assembly, theatre presents the tangible actions of bodies on

 See also Budelmann 2010, Telò and Mueller 2018, Lather 2021. On the cognitive approaches to Classical texts more generally, see various studies in Anderson, Cairns, and Sprevak 2019 and Meineck, Short, and Devereaux 2019. On the embodiment in drama, see especially Dancygier 2012, 139 – 170.  Meineck 2018, 23. About the relationship between performer, spectator and the space in which both converge, see McAuley 2000.  On aesthetic embodiment, see Mascia-Lees 2011.  Rehm 2002. On embodied receptiveness and theatre see also McConachie 2008.

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stage, a process that is related to the bodily experience of the recipients in the audience. In parallel and in addition to the mental stimulation of textual narrative and its linguistic dimensions, dramatic performance triggers performers’ and audience members’ embodied receptiveness, their somatic engagement, “thereby facilitating a deep emotional learning that can bypass resistance, bias, and fear, often opening new avenues for communication and encouraging trust”.¹¹⁰ Theatre, and in particular comedy, which confronted spectators with the problems and dilemmas facing society, and which attacked the famous by name, was designed to be consumed in an experiential context.¹¹¹ Mimetic artificial constructions mirror people’s intentions and emotions which are re-experienced on stage by those who act, as well as by those who watch. In this book it is neither political nor societal questions that are the focus, but rather the ways in which comedy created the conditions for the experience of scholarly discussion on stage. Building on Meineck’s analysis of tragedy, I thus suggest in this study that environmental theories can provide a new perspective on the interaction of comedy with early Greek approaches to language and literature. Through re-reading Aristophanes’ surviving comedies and the fragmentary corpus of Sicilian and Attic comedy, we can attempt to interpret passages concerning early scholarly discourses differently. The passages should and will be reconsidered through the prism of the ways in which they were initially approached and understood: through experiencing the play performed live. Mental responses are based on biological and physical reactions, to which the brain is programmed to respond in the same way as the rest of our body.¹¹² Things, artefacts and material signs, as cognitive extensions of the human body, influence, shape and change our mind.¹¹³ They can be put on stage or imagined in the minds of the audience and characters, actors and writers. Occurring in comic narrative, these experiences are key to thought processes. A crucial argument of this book, as mentioned above, relates to the function of metaphor in the construction of scholarly vocabulary. Metaphorical domains  Rokotnitz 2011, 3. On the concept of ’trust’ in theatre and its connection with the physical communication as well as with mental and emotional state, see Rokotnitz 2011, 12– 17 and 129 – 132. On the theory of embodied cognition applied to performative studies, see Lutterbie 2011.  On comedy, which “was from its origins a theatre of the body” as well as on “comic somatisation”, see Hubbard 2021, 179.  Shapiro 2012, 2.  Malafouris 2013. See also Malafouris & Renfrew 2010. On the bodily character of early Greek criticism, see below pp. 151– 154 and 186 – 187. On the back and forth between physical and abstract concepts in archaic poetry, early prose and then particularly in drama, see e.g. pp. 78 – 94 and 220 – 222.

32

Introduction

inherited from Archaic poetry, construct the body of Classical literary criticism.¹¹⁴ Metaphor structures our choices in various conceptual domains and is embedded into critical thought, with metaphors coordinated through the body and its sensory capacities which draw on previous embodied experience.¹¹⁵ Current cognitive studies reveal that the audience’s implication in metaphors produces an embodied simulation whilst the bodily action described by language is imagined. Metaphors replicate previous physical and perceptual experience of the authors, performers and spectators, placing it in imagined space.¹¹⁶ In reference to our material, epic and lyric poetological imagery based on such experience provides important evidence for linguistic and literary discourse in Archaic and Late Archaic Greek. These include the problem of literary fiction and storytelling, as opposed to creating a reasonable account, an awareness of poetic self-identification and self-consciousness, and a level of critical judgement with regard to one’s own and others’ poetry. The relationship between the poet, his audience and his work was profoundly reflected upon and brought near to perfection in poetry from as early as the sixth century BCE, even before Pindar.¹¹⁷ Such reflection is always on-going, but it takes different forms and occupies different niches within society depending on the period in question. Though they were neither scholars nor philosophers, Archaic poets nonetheless contributed greatly to the vocabulary and ideas used by later scholars, to the spinning out of themselves of words that could describe critical concepts on literature, and the notions of textual and literary criticism.¹¹⁸ What is a particular focus of this study is the notion of embodiment being applied to the perception of scholarly discourse in the fifth and fourth century BCE. Human beings experience the environment somatically by analogy through the contact with other similar bodies, and this somatic analogy contributes to determining the metaphors which we employ.¹¹⁹ The role of drama in this process is particularly interesting. The growing tendency of the fifth century to think in abstract categories behind the sensual play of images and to rationally explain  On the spatial and orientational dimension of metaphor in the language of ancient literary criticism, see Worman 2015. On the comedians’ use of literary-critical metaphor, see also Wright 2012, 103 – 140. See also p. 78 – 90 below.  See Kövecses 2010, 107– 120, and Casasanto and Gijssels 2015. On the relationship between jokes and metaphors in comedy, see Ruffell 2011, 60 – 85.  Gibbs 2006, Ritchie 2008. See also Zanker 2019, 3 – 4.  Lanata 1963; Maehler 1963, Kambylis 1965, Harriott 1969, Campbell 1983, Nagy 1989, Ledbetter 2003, 1– 77 (with further bibliography).  On the metaphor of body versus flesh applied to the word as well as on the long and old tradition of the incarnation of words and reality in Christian thought, see Hamilton 2018.  Lakoff and Johnson 1980, 14– 21, 87– 96; Gibbs 2006 and 2007.

Synopsis of the work

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mythical figures replaced the symbolic thinking of archaic poetry. Dramatic performance made the conceptual abstract ideas material again by creating metaphors and giving them a wide range of sensorimotor tools on stage. In this way, the scholarly concepts of linguistics, literary criticism, textual analysis, metre, rhythm and stylistic discussion were given a visual and auditory somatic representation and in this way perceived by the spectators. The interactions of the embodied fifth-century scholarly discourse across various genres can be contrasted to the dis-embodiment of Hellenistic philology. This study argues that metaphor embodied on the comic stage renders scholarly ideas more accessible by way of appealing to the audience’s mind and senses. Comedy is thus engaged – it will be proposed – in a dual mode of production of concepts: it (re)uses already existing metaphors, transposing them from epic, lyric and philosophic discourses, and it creates its own novel metaphors which mediate scholarly ideas and insights in the physical theatrical environment.

Synopsis of the work In this synopsis of the patterns of pre-Hellenistic scholarship, I touch upon a whole spectrum of interests related to the understanding, preservation, reconstruction and interpretation of literature, and also interest in the origins, structure and functions of language.¹²⁰ Needless to say, no one definition of the subject should be considered sufficient in and of itself; this is a work in progress, and delimiting and differentiating scholarship from other activities constitutes an integral part of the development of scholarship. The dynamics involved in this process, dynamics that led to what would later be thought of as scholarship in a narrower Alexandrian sense, constitute the focus of this work: studies in grammar and style, narratological structure, and the editing of Classical texts.¹²¹ The book consists of eight chapters. In Chapter 1, I claim that comedy provided a new medium for early semantic studies. In a discussion of Epicharmus fr. 147 PCG, I question the meaning of τρίπους. The fragment is brought into a broader context of early and contemporary approaches to semantics and the concept of naming and word meaning in Archaic and Classical Greek. Chapter 2 is an examination of the well-known discussion on grammar in Aristophanes’ Clouds, covering 1) correct language use (vv. 627– 692), 2) the correct  On the tasks of scholarship as understood in ancient and modern thought, see the appendix on the art of philology in Gentili 1988, 223 – 233. Cf. Sheldon Pollock’s definition of philology as “the discipline of making sense of texts” in Pollock, Elman and Chang 2015, 22.  See Montana 2015; Montana 2020; Montanari 2015.

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Introduction

definition of the problem (vv. 693 – 734), and 3) the correct application of the acquired knowledge of the practical circumstances (vv. 735 – 790). Gender classification, verbal tenses, and classes of utterance are entwined in intellectual debates to which Attic comedy reacted such as passages from Licymnius, Hippias and Prodicus. I suggest that there is a certain similarity in the experiential tools used to discuss grammar in comedy and in a contemporary Hippocratic text (Vict. 1.23). Chapter 3 considers how conceptual metaphors from nature and various social spheres such as sport, carpentry, medicine, shipbuilding, cooking, and ritual practice are capable of translating images into the vocabulary of literary criticism and text analysis. I propose that an awareness of the experience of the bodies and minds of Attic audiences, their seeing, hearing and touching (chiselled) words, or tasting Archilochus’ poetry, contributes to our reading of comic texts. This experience engenders a further dimension to the process of perceiving both comedy and literary criticism. Chapter 4 analyses the vocabulary that Old Comedy coined for dramatic genres. The contribution of Old and Middle Comedy to the generic discourse are brought into contemporary discussions of genre. I suggest that both ideas and language related to the classification of genre play a significant role in comedy. Due to experiential organisation with spatial, temporal and emotional focalisation, comedy’s recipients experienced the embodied genres on stage. Through this bodily intermediality, (professional) criticism developed: genres reflected on one another on the dramatic stage, with professional terms coined and fixed as part of this process. Chapter 5 discusses the use of metrical terms such as trimeter, hexameter and anapaest in comedy, and argues that vivid dancing on stage and dramatic performance of the theoretical discussion of metre (such as in Aristophanes’ Clouds) determined the future theoretical use of later metrical vocabulary. Metre is by its nature an embodied concept: its origins are to be found in dance, stepping one foot in front of another, and in rhythm, so that auditory, somatic and sensory parameters are all in play. Chapter 6 argues that the experience of speaking foreign languages, speaking with errors, and speaking dialects whilst discussing linguistic deviations on stage (such as Megarian in Ar. Ach. 729 – 835, Boeotian in Ar. Ach. 860 – 954, Ionian in Ar. Pax 45 – 48, Laconian in Ar. Lys. 1242– 1315, Attic versus non-Attic in Strattis fr. 29 PCG, prosodic errors in Plato fr. 183 PCG and others) played an essential role in the development of the notion of linguistic norm, standards, and divergence. Chapter 7 takes as its starting point the discussion of Strato’s Phoenicides fr. 1 PCG in which a cook who is a talented rhetorician transforms his speech into Ho-

Synopsis of the work

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meric verses and vocabulary. Homeric criticism embodied on stage (such as Cratinus fr. 355 PCG, Ar. fr. 233 PCG, and Philemon fr. 99 PCG as well) is further entwined into current textual criticism and the discussion of ’proto-editions’ of Homer. Chapter 8 explores the interaction of laughter with criticism as crucial to understanding the development of scholarly discourse in the fourth century BCE. I suggest that comedy contributed to the establishment of the aesthetic category and a stylistic effect of the ’ridiculous/amusing’ (γελοῖον), common to later Hellenistic literary and rhetorical theories. When Sannyrion wrote his comedy Γέλως (Laughter) and the audience of Greek comic playwrights experienced laughter and the evaluation of laughter on stage with the range of emotional and sensory details, the critical categories of ’absurd’/’out of place’/’odd’/’amusing’ which were to become important in later theoretical treatises were given prominence. An appreciation of multi-mediality in the creation of scholarly topics, and the terms to which epic, lyric, natural philosophy, scientific and medical treatises, rhetoric, and theatre contributed to the process of the formation of the discourse(s) of ’philology’ is therefore of paramount importance. Despite necessary caveats, multi-disciplinarity and intra- and inter-disciplinarity could even serve as the basis for models of the dynamic development of scholarly praxis and thought. Generic multi- and intermediality were an essential aspect, perhaps even the most marked feature, of early scholarly debates. The role of comedy, with its lightness and concurrent seriousness, is essential here: these concepts and vocabulary and their crossovers on a synchronic and diachronic level became accessible in the theatre on motor-sensory and spatial levels. The interactions between embodied scholarly discourses across various genres and especially their clash with comedy constitute the subject of this study.

Chapter 1 Proto-semantic studies Let us start with this fragment from an unknown comedy by Epicharmus. It can be imagined as a school dialogue (in the manner of the one between Strepsiades and Socrates in Aristophanes’ Clouds) where semantic approaches are discussed: Epich. fr. 147 PCG: A. τί δὲ τόδ’ ἐστί; B. δηλαδὴ τρίπους. A. τί μὰν ἔχει πόδας τέτορας; οὔκ ἐστιν τρίπους, ἀλλ’ οἶμαι τετράπους. B. ἔστιν ὄνομ’ αὐτῶι τρίπους, τέτοράς γα μὰν ἔχει πόδας. A. εἰ δίπους τοίνυν ποκ’ ἦς αἴνίγματ’ Οἰ〈δίπου〉 νοεῖς (А) What is this here? (B) a tripod, plainly. (А) But why does it have four feet? It is not a tripod, but seems like a tetrapod to me. (B) It bears the name tripod, but it has really got four feet. (А) Well, if it once had two feet, you can think of the riddle of Oe

Such a name-giving scene where an object is scrutinised on a (real or imagined) stage, its feet are counted (τρίπους, τετράπους, δίπους) and the nature of its designation is questioned, was very familiar to Epicharmus’ audience.¹ The co-occurrence of intensifying particles and deictics, such as τί δὲ τόδ’ ἐστί, τί μὰν ἔχει, δηλαδή, γα μὰν (Attic γε μήν), and τοίνυν, and the opposition of the deictic elements in the first and second person singular forms οἶμαι (“I think”) and νοεῖς (“you think”) provide detailed spatial information, including appropriate movements of the hands, head and body of (at least) two characters of the play, as well as the spectators. The context for the discussion of the meaning of ’tripod’ (ἔστιν ὄνομ’ αὐτῶι τρίπους) is thus materially and spatially determined from the outset of the dialogue, the sympotic or sacral scenic space being specified by the object of a tripod. The only cover-text for this fragment comes from Athenaeus, who provides such information about it as we have.² Athenaeus quotes six passages from earlier source(s), starting the section with an episode of puristic Atticistic discussions.³ A Cynic calls the table τρίπους (εἰπόντος τινὸς κυνικοῦ τρίποδα τὴν τράπεζαν), and one of the main characters in Athenaeus’ work, the severe Atticist grammarian Ulpian of Tyre, cannot tolerate it (δυσχεραίνει ὁ παρὰ τῷ σοφι-

 On this fragment in detail, where the question is posed whether the objects were a table or a sanctuary tripod, see Novokhatko 2020c.  Athen. Epit. 2.49a-d.  Hsd. fr. 266b M.-W., Xen. An. 7.3.21– 22, Antiph. fr. 280 PCG, Eub. fr. 119, 4– 5 PCG, Epich. fr. 147 PCG, Ar. fr. 545 PCG. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-004

Chapter 1 Proto-semantic studies

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στῇ Οὐλπιανὸς καὶ λέγει): “where does he get the word τρίπους from?” Ulpian, who is interested in the documentation of words and word-forms⁴ with his nickname Κειτούκειτος (“does-it-occur-or-does-it-not”), here states that the correct word for ’table’ in Greek is τράπεζα, implicitly asking whether the word τρίπους is ever attested for a table. After Epicharmus’ fr. 147 PCG in Athenaeus’ list Aristophanes’ late fr. 545 PCG is quoted: Α. τράπεζαν ἡμῖν φερε τρεῖς πόδας ἔχουσαν, τέτταρας δὲ μὴ ’χέτω. Β. καὶ πόθεν ἐγὼ τρίπουν τράπεζαν λήψομαι; (А) Bring us out a table with three feet, it must not have four. (B) And where shall I get a three-footed table?

The joke is based around the incompatiblity of the name τράπεζα (originally τετράπεζα, four-footed⁵) for three-legged tables. As in second century CE Ulpian’s case, Aristophanes’ fragment reflects contemporary linguistic discussions on the coherence of objects and their names.⁶ Both Epicharmus’ and Aristophanes’ fragments contain an explanation of the etymology. For Epicharmus, the explanation of τετράπους as ἔχει πόδας τέτορας is important, as well as his deliberate play with the morphemes τρίπους, τετράπους and δίπους. In Aristophanes, the etymology is given for the word τράπεζα which is supposed to have four (τέτταρας) feet but in this case should have three (τρεῖς πόδας ἔχουσα). Different word formations are juxtaposed: τρίπουν and τράπεζαν. In both Epicharmus’ and Aristophanes’ fragments, the physical object is not necessarily brought on stage. This might be an imagined, reconstructed, or narrated situation. We cannot know from the surviving lines alone. In any case, both fragments provide sufficient linguistic information to evaluate a vivid materialised situation where the discussion on word meaning is brought into a spatial framework with body language and movement highlighted (τί δὲ τόδ’ ἐστί; φερε, πόθεν λήψομαι). The material object is coupled with the sophisticated discourse on the origin and essence of things and names.

 On Ulpian’s interest in attested word-forms, see Ath. 10.422e-423a; 13.590a.  Orion. Etym. T149: Τράπεζα. κατὰ ἀποβολὴν, τουτέστι, τετράπεζα, τέσσαρας πόδας ἔχουσα. αἱ γὰρ τῶν παλαιῶν τράπεζαι τετράγωνοι ἦσαν (“Trapeza: by dropping (of a syllable), that is to say tetrapeza, four-footed. For the tables of the ancients were rectangular”). Cf. further Procl. In Crat. comm. 85, 49 – 50; Etym. Magn. 763, 38.  Cf. also Cratinus’ use of “three-footed tables” (τράπεζαι τρισκελεῖς) in fr. 334 PCG.

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Chapter 1 Proto-semantic studies

We do not know whether Aristophanes was aware of this specific comedy by Epicharmus. Such exercises must have been commonplace in Athens in the last quarter of the fifth century BCE, the context in which Aristophanes was active, where intellectual circles often engaged in rhetorical and linguistic debates. Through similar jokes such as the cosmological comparison of the sky with a baking-cover and about people with charcoal, Aristophanes intertwines natural philosophical, rhetorical and linguistic discourses.⁷ Transferring the lens of Aristophanes and the Athenian context in which he worked directly on to Epicharmus’ Syracuse, one might assume that Epicharmus was also engaged in mocking early linguistic studies (ἔστιν ὄνομ’ αὐτῶι) carried on by the Sicilian rhetoricians.⁸ Prior to discussion of the general context for contemporary intellectual, one further issue should be mentioned. Tragic playwrights and Euripides in particular relished name-giving, and etymological games.⁹ These tragic etymologies were reflected by comic playwrights on the level of both content and style. Thus a character in Philyllius’ comedy Dōdekatē addresses an amphora (ἀμφορεῦ) declaring that he/she is giving to this wine pot the honour to bear the name ‘measurer/moderator’ due to its ‘moderation’ (ἔχειν ὄνομα μετρητὴν μετριότητος εἵνεκα, Philyl. fr. 6 PCG).¹⁰ It is hard to decide who exactly was influenced by whom in this interaction of genres, and whether comic playwrights echoed tragic texts, contemporary intellectual discussion or each other, but it is at least clear that dramatic genres were deeply rooted in a broader and multi-faceted interest in semantic and more generally linguistic issues. The following sections discuss the contemporary proto-semantic discourses reflected in Heraclitus, Parmenides, Empedocles and also in Gorgias, Thucydides, Democritus and the Hyppocratic corpus. Before continuing the discussion of comedy texts further, it is worth noting here in

 Ar. Nu. 97: ἡμεῖς δ’ ἄνθρακες (“and we are the charcoal”, the wordplay with ἄνθρωποι). This baking-cover joke was ascribed by Cratinus in his comedy Panoptae to the philosopher Hippon (Crat. fr. 167 PCG) and by Aristophanes in his Birds (Ar. Av. 1000 – 1001) to the astronomer Meton. Heraclitus had also compared a man with hot charcoal (DK22 А16=Sext. Adv. math. 7, 130). See Sommerstein 1987, 265 and Dunbar 1995, 555 – 556. Cf. the continuation of the joke in Matro’s kenning μέγας οὐρανὸς ὀπτανιάων (“the great heaven of the kitchens”, fr. 534, 12 SH) and Olson-Sens 1999, 83 – 84.  On the intellectual climate in Epicharmus’ Syracuse, see Bosher 2013, Bosher 2014, and Bosher 2021, 14– 33.  On a valuable survey of etymological exercises in Euripides, see Van Looy 1973 with useful bibliography.  Cf. also Ar. fr. 342 PCG: ἄμφοδον ἐχρῆν αὐτῷ τίθεσθαι τοὔνομα. See Orth 2015, 163 – 168.

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which context and in which debates comic performative discussions of semantic studies were embedded.

1.1 On names, bow and life in Heraclitus Intellectual discourse from the end of the sixth century BCE devoted considerable attention to the nature of language, though this concern was already evident in the linguistic imagery of the earliest poetic texts. Principles established in language analysis which arose within philosophical studies from the sixth century BCE included the first classifications of language categories, rules governing the construction of sentences, and the correlation between thought and speech processes.¹¹ One of the crucial questions connected to the origin and nature of language in Archaic poetry was the relationship of name to the denominated object. However, the singer did not employ specific vocabulary to bring this to the fore.¹² Rather it was the early philosophers, in both eastern and western parts of Greece, who developed their thoughts on these problems. Our understanding of Heraclitus’s views on language is vague since direct and indirect traditions differ. Despite the lack of direct evidence, later sources can be assumed to be correct in suggesting that the origin of language, the direct relationship between the sound structure and its corresponding meaning as well as the possibility of applying logical principles to the explanation of grammatical forms have been discussed by Heraclitus in the framework of his philosophical considerations. Heraclitus’ most famous principle is notably that of the λόγος with its multiple meanings (DK22 B1 =D1 Laks-Most). The complex and much-discussed λόγος as ‘rule’ and ‘reason’ orders natural processes. This use of λόγος exploits the inherent ambiguity between word and object represented. A word is a sign, and what is signified is typically an object, and the only way to indicate what is signified is to use the word.¹³

 On early Greek language observations in Homer and Hesiod “im Rahmen ‚mythischer‘ Sprachreflexion”, see Schmitter 2000, 347– 350. See also Schmitter 1990 with bibliography.  Zanker 2016, 113. On epic poetics see Halliwell 2011, 36 – 92. On naming and metaphors concerning names in Homeric conceptualisation of language, see Pelliccia 1995, 27– 37, Zanker 2019, 108 – 110.  See Kahn 1979, 6 – 100; Aronadio 2002; Modrak 2009, 640 – 641; De Jonge-Ophuijsen 2010, 486 – 487, Reames 2017. On the vocabulary and concept of sign (mainly in Herodotus), see Hollmann 2011, 9 – 47.

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Chapter 1 Proto-semantic studies

In Plato’s Cratylus, Heraclitus is famously presented by his alleged pupil Cratylus as a supporter of the thesis of the natural rightness of words (ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων, φύσει-thesis). The analogist/naturalist Cratylus argues with the anomalist/conventionalist Hermogenes (νόμῳ or φύσει thesis, the opposition φύσει-νόμῳ having arguably been introduced by the sophist Hippias of Elis).¹⁴ The material is obscure, and Plato’s Heraclitus may be considered considerably removed from any Heraclitus we would reconstruct today. However, the nature of language in Plato’s dialogue reflected the debates of fifth century BCE on the theoretical level, debates which are present in different forms and using different terms in Archaic poetry: whether there is a direct logical connection between the meanings expressed by words and their sound forms, or whether this connection is arbitrary and the result of pure chance. According to the analogist view, language is a gift of nature; it is regular and logical by itself and not dependent on human convention. There is perfect harmony between the sound form of a word and the meaning concealed within it. Special attention is thus given to etymological research as ’revealing the truth’ about words. Heraclitus is said by Plato to have believed in the capacity of words to reflect the οὐσία, the unchangeable essence of things. All beings are on-the-go and nothing is at rest (τὰ ὄντα ἰέναι τε πάντα καὶ μένειν οὐδέν), argued Heraclitus. Their cause (τὸ αἴτιον) and principle (τὸ ἀρχηγὸν) is that which pushes (τὸ ὠθοῦν), for which reason it has finely been called (ὅθεν δὴ καλῶς ἔχειν αὐτὸ “ὠσίαν” ὠνομάσθαι, Pl. Crat. 401d 3 – 7). It is useful to point to certain points of cross-reference between surviving fragments of Heraclitus and Plato’s image of Heraclitus here. Apart from the folk-etymological relationship of τὸ ὠθοῦν with the ὠσία, the name ὠσία appears to presuppose Heraclitean flux theory, and the Platonic paraphrase of the famous “you could not step twice into the same river” corresponds perfectly to the extant Heraclitus text stating that upon those who step into the same rivers (ποταμοῖσι τοῖσιν αὐτοῖσιν ἐμβαίνουσιν), “other and other” waters flow (ἕτερα καὶ ἕτερα ὕδατα ἐπιρρεῖ, DK22 B 12 =D65a Laks-Most = Eus. PE xv 20.2– 3).¹⁵ The traditions of Heraclitus as a supporter of the φύσει-thesis and Socrates having difficulties with naturalism are further interpreted by later scholars.¹⁶ By contrast, in the four extant Heraclitean fragments that analyse the relationship between the name and the denominated object (indeed, the only four fragments where the notion of ὄνομα or ὀνομάζεσθαι appears), Heraclitus  Heinimann 1945 and pp. 68, 133, 166 – 167, 179 – 180 below.  For the discussion about what is real and what spurious, see Ademollo 2011, 203 – 204.  E. g. Procl. In Plat. Crat. x, 4, 6 – 16, Amm. In Arist. De Int. 37.1– 13; see Ademollo 2011, 425 – 427. On the concept of linguistic naturalism enhanced diachronically, see Joseph 2000.

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shows no belief in the human ability to comprehend reality through words. A name might on occasion point to the oneness of the contraries. Thus in one fragment Heraclitus lists some binary oppositions such as “day night, winter summer, war peace, satiety hunger” and argues that God being all of them undergoes alteration like fire (ἀλλοιοῦται δὲ ὅκωσπερ πῦρ): when it is mixed with the smoke of incense, he is named according to the pleasure of each of them (ὀνομάζεται καθ’ ἡδονὴν ἑκάστου, DK22 B 67=D48 Laks-Most).¹⁷ This fragment emphasises both the divine unity of oppositions (ὁ θεός being ’X’ and ’Y’) and the ensuing arbitrariness of names (ὀνομάζεται καθ’ ἡδονὴν ἑκάστου). Heraclitus refers to the process of continuous change by comparing God to fire (ὅκωσπερ πῦρ). As pointed out by Kirk, God cannot differ here essentially from the Heraclitean λόγος. The λόγος is, among other things, the power making things contrary. It also ensures that change between opposites will be proportional and balanced overall. God, argued Kirk, is thus said to be the common connecting element in all extremes such as day and night, winter and summer, war and peace, satiety and hunger (ὁ θεὸς ἡμέρη εὐφρόνη, χειμὼν θέρος, πόλεμος εἰρήνη, κόρος λιμός ἀλλοιοῦται), just as fire (ὅκωσπερ πῦρ) is the common element of different vapours. Alteration from one to another leads to an alteration of name, which is a superficial component. The most important constituent remains unchanged, and thus the whole process of alteration is problematic.¹⁸ Overall, however, names express only one (false?) doxa-aspect of reality and thus cannot be considered a secure source for the perception of true being. The name of Dike would be unknown (Δίκης ὄνομα οὐκ ἂν ἤιδεσαν) if unjust actions did not exist (εἰ ταῦτα μὴ ἦν, DK22 B23 = D55 Laks-Most = Clem. Strom. 4, 10, 1).¹⁹ In another enigmatic fragment, Heraclitus reflects upon the one-sidedness of the perspective from which a name refers to an object. One thing, according to Heraclitus, the only truly wise thing, does not mean, and means, the name by the name of Zeus (λέγεσθαι οὐκ ἐθέλει καὶ ἐθέλει Ζηνὸς ὄνομα, DK22 B32=D45 Laks-Most).²⁰ As has recently been argued, the syntagma (οὐκ) ἐθέλει λέγεσθαι and its various relatives such as βούλεται and vult sibi from quite an early stage of language formation constitute one of the main semantic domains

 Kahn 1979, 276 – 281.  Kirk et al. 1983, 191. Cf. DK22 B111=D56 Laks-Most: νοῦσος ὑγιείην ἐποίησεν ἡδὺ καὶ ἀγαθόν, λιμὸς κόρον, κάματος ἀνάπαυσιν (“Illness made health sweet and good, hunger made satiety, trouble made repose”). Desirable things are thus feasible and accessible only through their opposites. See Kahn 1979, 181– 183.  Schmitter 1990, 23.  See further examples in Schmitter 1990, 21– 24; see also Kennedy 1989a, 79 – 81.

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of “signifying, meaning” in both Greek and Latin.²¹ This fragment is an important contribution to this study from early Greek. Furthermore, since everything essentially consists of binary oppositions, names are always insufficient as a medium for conveying essences. According to Heraclitus, a word or text could have several valid meanings, arguably not a result of an anomalist “conventional association”, but rather of “the nature of words as motivated signs”.²² Heraclitus’ binary opposites play an important role in his theory of names. A name might on occasion point to the oneness of contraries. This philosophical observation by Heraclitus brings us close to the grammatical category of homonyms, synonyms, and antonyms, discussed some decades later in Athens.²³ Overall, however, names express only one aspect of reality and thus cannot be considered a secure source for the perception of true being.²⁴ In the famous bow-fragment the incomplete reliability of names is emphasised once again. The name of the bow is life (τῶι οὖν τόξωι ὄνομα βίος), according to Heraclitus, but its work is death (ἔργον δὲ θάνατος, DK22 B48=D53 LaksMost).²⁵ Here Heraclitus plays with prosodic and semantic aspects of language simultaneously; the Homeric word βιός means ‘bow’ (τόξον in Classical Greek) and therefore implies death-bringing, whilst βίος means life. This is a coincidentia oppositorum, to use Nicholas of Cusa’s term: the name means the opposite of the function of the denominated object. The accentuation is on different syllables in the two Greek words; however, during Heraclitus’ lifetime, whilst this accentuation was heard and pronounced, the written form of the words was identically unaccented (ΒΙΟΣ). The metaphor of the bow in tension reflects the tension between opposites in conflict. It functions as prosodic (βιός and βίος) and semantic wordplay with synonyms (βιός and τόξον) and with homonyms, where the same item can have more than one valid meaning, in this case “life” and “bow” simultaneously. Furthermore, the opposition βίος versus βιός can be reflected in the context of prosodic studies in the fifth century BCE, such as those by Stesimbrotus of Thasus and Hippias of Thasus discussed above, or such as those ridiculed by the Attic comedy.²⁶

 Zanker 2016, 46 – 49.  Kennedy 1989a, 81.  See p. 51, 66 – 69 below.  Schmitter 1990 23, cf. DK22 B23=D55 Laks-Most. On the processes failing under the early Greek concept of homonymy, see also Heitsch 1972.  On this fragment see Kahn 1979, 201– 202; Poster 2006.  On early prosodic studies applied to the criticism of Homeric verses, see below p. 164– 172. See Probert 2006, 16. On prosodic mistakes mocked in comedy, see below p. 135– 136, 140 – 142.

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All surviving exercises in accentuation were applied to the Homeric text, which was interpreted according to prosodic rules. We do not know in which context Heraclitus commented on the Homeric word βιός for “bow” (before Plato, this is found only seventeen times in the Homeric epic and twice in the Homeric hymn to Apollo). This fragment does not constitute a major contribution to scholarly discourse when considered in isolation, but it is striking when put into the context of prosodic exercises of the time.²⁷

1.2 Naming in Parmenides and Empedocles Two other figures from the Western part of Greece were geographically closer to Epicharmus’ tripod. Heraclitus’ younger contemporary Parmenides was concerned, directly or subconsciously, with fundamental issues of the philosophy of language. The names of things are thus based on convention and arbitrary decisions, and the multiplicity of things is a deceit to human beings’ receptive organs. According to opinion, says Parmenides, these things have been born and now are (ἔφυ τάδε καί νυν ἔασι), and afterwards, having grown enough, they will from that point come to their end. For these things people have established a name (τοῖς δ’ ὄνομ’ ἄνθρωποι κατέθεντ’), serving to distinguish each one (ἐπίσημον ἑκάστωι, Parm. DK28 B19 =D62 Laks-Most). As has been recently argued, these verses may have concluded Parmenides’ poem and thus bear a symbolic function as the poet’s message to his audience.²⁸ People fabricated ὀνόματα for the world around them. They misleadingly gave signs (σήματα, note also ἐπίσημον ἑκάστωι!) to the objects in this world, each of which received a different name.²⁹ Both Heraclitus and Parmenides affirmed that ὀνόματα mirror reality only in part. Parmenides further maintained the unity of language and thought, positing a division within this unity based on the distinction between ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ ways of thinking. For Heraclitus, however, the separation of thought from language was a condition for attaining knowledge.³⁰

 Gianvittorio 2013, 15. On the significance of names for Heraclitus, see Tor 2016.  Laks-Most 2016b, 86 – 87.  See further Woodbury 1958; Schmitter 1990, 25; Kennedy 1989b, 81– 82; Cerri 1999, 288 – 290; De Jonge-Ophuijsen 2010, 486 – 487. See also Tor 2017, 203 – 208, who considers Parmenides’ approach to names in the context of their religious surroundings. On σήματα in Archaic Greek see Steiner 1994, 10 – 60. See also Prier 1978.  On Heraclitus’ and Parmenides’ vocabulary, see Havelock 1983, 15 – 39. For more on linguistic approaches in Heraclitus and Parmenides in the context of early Greek studies on language, see Prier 1976 and Schmitter 2000, 351– 354.

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Empedocles also reflected on the meanings of names (DK31 B8 =D53 LaksMost: “nature” is called by people (φύσις δ’ ἐπὶ τοῖς ὀνομάζεται ἀνθρώποισιν); DK31 B15: “as long as mortals live what they live they call life” (ὡς ὄφρα μέν τε βιῶσι, τὸ δὴ βίοτον καλέουσι); DK31 B17.24: “they call her by the names of Joy and Aphrodite” (Γηθοσύνην καλέοντες ἐπώνυμον ἠδ’ ᾿Aφροδίτην). His arguments are in the vein of Parmenides’ concept of the arbitrariness of names. As Empedocles says, when light and air have been mingled and descend into men, animals, plants, and birds, “they call it to be born” (τὸ γενέσθαι). When these have been separated out, they say it is a woeful fate, and they say it is not right (ἣ θέμις καλέουσι). And Empedocles declares: “According to the custom, however, I assent also myself” (νόμωι δ’ ἐπίφημι καὶ αὐτός, DK31 B9 = D54 Laks-Most). The key word νόμωι refers to the early debates on the arbitrariness of designations and the convention of language.³¹ Empedocles reveals a proto-cognitivist approach to language. From his perspective, the theory and practice of language were closely related to his empirical statement on the limited nature of perception and knowledge. It is not possible for us to set the divine before our eyes (οὐκ ἔστιν πελάσασθαι ἐν ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἐφικτόν), or to grasp it with our hands (ἡμετέροις ἢ χερσὶ λαβεῖν), which is the greatest method of persuasion (ἧιπέρ τε μεγίστη πειθοῦς ἀνθρώποισιν ἁμαξιτὸς) that comes to the mind (εἰς φρένα πίπτει, DK31 B133 = D9 Laks-Most).³² The affinity with Gorgias’ concept of persuasion is striking here, as Πειθώ working through the medium of language has as its destination the human mind, and perception such as seeing and grasping is the ’broadest road’ to reach the mind.³³ Thus Empedocles discusses the meaning of the notion of φύσις, which was fundamental to his poem.³⁴ Nature is only the mingling and interchange of what is mingled (ἀλλὰ μόνον μίξις τε διάλλαξίς τε μιγέντων ἔστι), and it is called φύσις among people (φύσις δ’ ἐπὶ τοῖς ὀνομάζεται ἀνθρώποισιν, DK31 B8, 3– 4 = D53 Laks-Most). Another fragment suggests complex etymological considerations around the noun νόημα. In the blood-streams, rushing back and forth, something is nourished (ἵματος ἐν πελάγεσσι τεθραμμένη ἀντιθορόντος), and this something is called ‘thought’ by people (τῆι τε νόημα μάλιστα κικλήσκεται ἀνθρώποισιν); for the blood (αἷμα) that stirs around the heart (περικάρδιόν) is thought for peo-

 Willi 2008, 243 – 247 and Tor 2017, 318 – 339.  DK31 B2, 4 = D42 Laks-Most; for Empedocles’ linguistic approaches, see Willi 2008, 254– 260.  On Gorgias’ treatment of Πειθώ which is also divine in the discourse, see Segal 1962 and Buxton 1982. On the similarities of Empedocles’ and Gorgias’ considerations on language, see also Diels 1976 and Buchheim 1985.  Willi 2008, 244.

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ple (νόημα, DK31 B105 = D240 Laks-Most). The verb κικλήσκεται, and the explanation of the reasons ’why’ νόημα is named in this way following in the next verse, constitutes a standard example of an etymological exercise in Archaic epic. Etymology is among the earliest of poetic tools.³⁵ Discussions of the origin and nature of language and the relationship between the name and the denominated object are found in the fragments of early philosophical works from both eastern and western parts of Greece. Notions and terminology that were coined in the early philosophy of language constitute a significant contribution to later semantic categories as well as to scholarly discussion of the fifth and fourth centuries BCE. The lemma ὄνομα/ὀνομάζεσθαι is central to later linguistic studies, so too is the ’sign’ (ἐπίσημον, σημαίνει) and ’meaning’ (ἐθέλει λέγεσθαι).³⁶ Archaic verbs used for ’designating’ are καλεῖν and κικλήσκειν. Discourses commonly discussed by the mid fifth century BCE such as etymologies, the nature and principles of giving names, the concept of meaning and, related to it, binary structures of contraries, the relationship between the word and the mind, the verbal or/and un-verbal art of persuasion, and prosodic and semantic questions, remain intermingled and partially hidden in complex imagery, while preparing a path for later scholarly analyses.

 Heraclitus thus created verbal opposition based on etymological puns. Apart from the opposition βίος versus βιός (DK22 B48 = D53 Laks-Most) discussed above, μιαινόμενοι (’polluted’) versus μαίνεσθαι (’to be mad’) is noteworthy (DK22 B5 = D15 Laks-Most). This technique is continued further in Parmenides: ’both being born and perishing, both being and not-being’ (γίγνεσθαί τε καὶ ὄλλυσθαι, εἶναί τε καὶ οὐχί, DK28 B8, 40 = D62 Laks-Most). See Tor 2017, 204– 205. cf. further a rational explanation of the goddess of rainbow Iris in Xenophanes and Anaxagoras. Xenoph. DK21 B32 = D39 Laks-Most: ἥν τ’ Ἶριν καλέουσι, νέφος καὶ τοῦτο πέφυκε, /πορφύρεον καὶ φοινίκεον καὶ χλωρὸν ἰδέσθαι (“she whom they call rainbow, this is a cloud as well, purple and red and pale green to see”). People call the rainbow Iris, but it is in fact a mere cloud. Anaxag. DK59 B19 = D55 Laks-Most: Ἶριν δὲ καλέομεν τὸ ἐν τῆισιν νεφέληισιν ἀντιλάμπον τῶι ἡλίωι. χειμῶνος οὖν ἐστι σύμβολον· τὸ γὰρ περιχεόμενον ὕδωρ τῶι νέφει ἄνεμον ἐποίησεν ἢ ἐξέχεεν ὄμβρον (“We call rainbow/Iris what shines in the clouds facing the sun. It is a sign of a storm, for the water pouring around the cloud created wind or poured out rain”). See Willi 2008, 246, n. 52. On early etymological heuristic tools, see Woodhead 1928, Lallot 1991, Sluiter 2015. See also below p. 46– 52.  On the notion ‘term’ and the necessary restriction in its use, see above pp. 26 – 27.

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1.3 On yellow bile and semantic discourse in intellectual circles Epicharmus’ fragment on the nature of the designation ’tripod’ might be connected to the view of Heraclitus’ pupil Cratylus (perhaps Epicharmus’ younger contemporary), that those who know names, know things (ὃς ἂν τὰ ὀνόματα ἐπίστηται, ἐπίστασθαι καὶ τὰ πράγματα, Plat. Crat. 435d) and there is no other way to understand the essence of things, but through names. Through this cognitive approach, which foreshadows the Saussurian theory of sign with the “signified” pertaining to the “plane of content,” and the “signifier” pertaining to the “plane of expression”, Cratylus’ ὀνόματα are intertwined with Epicharmus’ ἔστιν ὄνομ’ αὐτῶι τρίπους.³⁷ The ὀνόματα would have been considered in Athens in the context of Protagoras’ concept of ὀρθοέπεια (“the correctness of expression”), an idea that was further developed by Prodicus as the ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων (“the correct usage of words/names”).³⁸ This brings us back perhaps to Theagenes of Rhegium who was noted to have discussed the correct usage of language (ἡ [γραμματικὴ] δὲ περὶ τὸν ἑλληνισμόν, ἥτις καὶ νεωτέρα ἐστίν, ἀρξαμένη μὲν ἀπὸ Θεαγένους, DK8 A1a), although the evidence might be anachronistic later concepts being imposed on Theagenes’ considerations.³⁹ As in comedy, discourses on word meaning are reflected in Thucydides. Marking the discrepancy between deeds and their verbal evaluation among his contemporaries in the context of civil war, Thucydides dedicates a widely-quoted (in both ancient and modern times) and much-discussed excursus on the correspondence of names to their referents and the changeable nature of their meaning.⁴⁰ The usual evaluation of words referring to things (τὴν εἰωθυῖαν ἀξίωσιν τῶν ὀνομάτων ἐς τὰ ἔργα) is in exchange with their judgement of what was right (ἀντήλλαξαν τῇ δικαιώσει), argued Thucydides. Thus, reckless audacity came to be considered the courage of a loyal ally (τόλμα μὲν γὰρ ἀλόγιστος ἀνδρεία φιλέταιρος ἐνομίσθη); prudent hesitation as specious cowardice (μέλλησις δὲ προμηθὴς δειλία εὐπρεπής); moderation as a cloak for unmanliness (τὸ δὲ

 Joseph 2000, 126 – 131.  DK80 A24 = D5b Laks-Most and DK80 A26 = D22a Laks-Most; DK84 A9 = R2 Laks-Most, DK84 A11 = P5 Laks-Most, DK84 A16 = D5b Laks-Most. On Protagoras’ and Prodicus’ approach to the correctness of names, see Rademaker 2013, Wolfsdorf 2011 and Mayhew 2011, 107– 128, with further bibliography.  Biondi 2015, 43 – 47.  On the connection of this passage with Empedocles, see Ademollo 2011, 90. See the discussion in Bassi 2003, 28 – 29.

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σῶφρον τοῦ ἀνάνδρου πρόσχημα); and an ability to see all sides of a question as inability to act on any (καὶ τὸ πρὸς ἅπαν ξυνετὸν ἐπὶ πᾶν ἀργόν, Thuc. 3.82.4). The crucial notions here are τὴν εἰωθυῖαν ἀξίωσιν τῶν ὀνομάτων (“the customary evaluative power of names”) and ἐνομίσθη (“was considered, taken to be”). As has been argued, the correct translation for ἀντήλλαξαν is “exchanged”, in that people in this crisis were “exchanging” the usual evaluation for an unusual one.⁴¹ Names and moral values are here juxtaposed and estimated, a thing being referred to correspondingly with a (wrong) name. The relation between names and their referents is situational and therefore conventional. Names and values are considered to have been evaluated in both customary and innovative circumstances. Though the passage has a moralising agenda, the pattern of semantic discourse in Thucydides is recognisable here as well, with a marked use of the appropriate vocabulary. The same pattern of discourse is reflected in another pseudo-Hippocratic treatise Περὶ φύσιος ἀνθρώπου, written in the last quarter of the fifth century BCE, perhaps by Polybus. Four different names for four body humours were posited, corresponding to four distinct entities in reality: blood (αἷμα), yellow bile (χολὴ ξανθή), black bile (χολὴ μέλαινα), and phlegm (φλέγμα). Their names differ from each other by custom (κατὰ νόμον τὰ οὐνόματα διωρίσθαι), argues the writer, and none of them possess the same designation (οὐδενὶ αὐτέων τωὐτὸ οὔνομα εἶναι). Further, their appearances are distinguished by nature (κατὰ φύσιν τὰς ἰδέας κεχωρίσθαι); neither is phlegm similar to blood, nor is blood like bile, nor is bile like phlegm (Nat. hom. 5.6).⁴² Here we once again find contemporary semantic debates, but just as Thucydides had applied them to moral values, so here are they applied to medical terminology. Also significant is the distinction between custom (κατὰ νόμον) and nature (κατὰ φύσιν), which would be later thematised in Plato’s Cratylus and was already evident in Empedocles.⁴³ The interests of two figures of the late fifth century BCE, Gorgias and Democritus, converged. Both worked on language in the context of contemporary philosophies of nature. Their work can be fruitfully analysed using the interpretative framework of contemporary literary and critical studies. Both attest to the new formal, empirical and scientific approach to language and apply it to poetry. Their ideas on the meanings of words, which probably originate from rhapsodic

 Wilson 1982, 20. Cf. Wilson’s translation for the first sentence: “Further, they exchanged their usual verbal evaluations of deeds for new ones, in the light of what they now thought justified”.  Craik 2015, 207– 213. Cf. also Hippoc. De Art. 2, a treatise of this period revealing the influence of Protagoras’ ideas, which gives prominence to the question of the status of names. The author of the treatise argues that essences are prior with respect to names. See Sluiter 1997, 175.  See Heinimann 1945 and Ademollo 2011, 91– 92.

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explanations and epic interpretations of obsolete words, connect Archaic considerations on language with contemporary discoveries. The earliest treatise by Gorgias, On not-being (Περὶ τοῦ μὴ ὄντος ἢ Περὶ φύσεως, 444– 441 BCE), was placed within the tradition of natural philosophy along with works such as Empedocles’ Περὶ φύσεως, quoted above. The questions related to language covered by Gorgias must be considered pre-Athenian since they belong to his Sicilian period. Gorgias’ passage on language has been transmitted through later sources, in a pseudo-Aristotelian treatise and by Sextus Empiricus.⁴⁴ Both paraphrase the text, as is clear from the narrative structure and vocabulary. As a result, we cannot be sure what exact words were used in Gorgias’ original (apart from certain basic terms such as logos itself), but we can project the content and some fundamental ideas. As Sextus states, the treatise dealt with three points: first, nothing exists (οὐδὲν ἔστιν); second, if it exists, it is inapprehensible to people (ἀκατάληπτον ἀνθρώπωι); third, if it is apprehensible, it is ineffable and not to be explained to others (ἀνέξοιστον καὶ ἀνερμήνευτον τῶι πέλας).⁴⁵ These last paragraphs 83 – 87 concerning Gorgias’ third point consider the philosophy of language and in particular the function of language for communication. The adjective ἀνέξοιστον (“inexpressible”) recalls Empedocles’ passage mentioned above. Empedocles allegedly believed that there are two types of logos: one is divine and the other is human. The divine level of logos is inexpressible (ἀνέξοιστον), the human is expressible (ἐξοιστόν). The use of ἀνέξοιστον might point towards the use of a vocabulary in language common to discourses of the time.⁴⁶ However, since both Empedocles and Gorgias are paraphrased in the same treatise by Sextus Empiricus, the word might belong to Sextus’ vocabulary in his paraphrasing.⁴⁷ In the pseudo-Aristotelian treatise De Melisso Xenophane Gorgia (second century CE?) the vocabulary of the cover-text differs from Sextus Empiricus

 Ps.-Arist. Mel. Xen. Gorg. 979a10 – 980b21 and in Sext. Emp. Adv. math. 7, 65 – 87. See Newiger 1973 and Buchheim 1989, 40 – 63.  Sext. Adv. math. 7, 65. Mourelatos 1987, 136. Euripides insists on language as a medium of communication, as a meaning-bearer: “the words which I hide inside me (unspoken) lead me to hesitation” (εἰς ὄκνον μοι μῦθος ὃν κεύθω φέρει, Eur. Suppl. 295).  As in Empedocles, the mental capacities of the recipient are important for decoding the message, but Gorgias does not make an ideal recipient since he is interested in every possible method of decoding human communication. Gorgias builds on Empedocles’ elementary physics, thus bridging materiality and philosophy of language. He explains Empedocles’ view on communication through his representation of language as code aletheia versus apate. On this juxtaposition in Empedocles and Gorgias, see Buchheim 1985 and Willi 2008, 266 – 282.  Cf. Sext. Adv. math. 7, 87 and 7, 122.

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though the argument remains the same: first, that nothing exists (oὐκ εἶναί φησιν οὐδέν), argued Gorgias; second, if it exists, it is unknown (εἰ δ’ ἔστιν, ἄγνωστον εἶναι), and even if it is known, it is not to be shown to the others (εἰ δὲ καὶ ἔστι καὶ γνωστόν, ἀλλ’ οὐ δηλωτὸν ἄλλοις). For how can someone express what he has seen, and render this clear through speaking? Rather it will be always the speaker who creates language. He can neither colour the object which he is speaking about, nor render it visible. Therefore nothing exists, and if it did, we could not know it, and if we could know it, we could not communicate it, because language is a fundamentally a different thing from what it may be thought to convey.⁴⁸ The third part of the fragment concerning communication is better documented in the pseudo-Aristotelian work than in Sextus. The corresponding paraphrase in Sextus omits the second part of Gorgias’ elenchus, the puzzle of perceptual sameness. It has even been argued that Sextus depended totally on the treatise in his paraphrase.⁴⁹ Thus the λόγος-passage concerning the power of persuasion in Gorgias’ Helen (8 – 16) has an obvious parallel in the pseudo-Aristotelian paraphrase. How is it possible to say in speech (εἴποι λόγῳ) what one knows (ὃ γὰρ εἶδε)? For how could it become clear to a hearer who did not see? (πῶς ἂν ἐκείνῳ δῆλον ἀκούσαντι γίγνοιτο, μὴ ἰδόντι; Ps.-Arist. MXG 980a19 – 21).⁵⁰ The listener is asked to envisage the situation in which a speaker has seen and knows certain things which the listener has not seen. In the same vein Antisthenes, discussed below in regard to his literary thought, seems to have distinguished between the subject and its signification whilst claiming that people speaking about something should say the thing (ἐκεῖνο) and signify through what they say, or through a semantic medium (σημαίνειν δι’ ὧν λέγουσι), the subject about which they speak or that which is external to the semantic medium (τὸ περὶ οὗ λέγουσιν). These constitute the direct indication of a subject (σημαίνειν … τὸ).⁵¹ The principal basis of this claim is a quotation in Alexander of Aphrodisias’ “Comments on Aristotle’s Top-

 Mourelatos 1987, 137– 138.  Gorgias’ dependence here on Eleatic philosophy and particularly on Parmenides, see Newiger 1973, 150 – 152 in detail. See also Diller 1971, 131– 132. Cf. Parm. DK28 B2, 5 – 7 = D6 LaksMost: τὴν δή τοι φράζω παναπευθέα ἔμμεν ἀταρπόν· οὔτε γὰρ ἂν γνοίης τό γε μὴ ἐὸν (οὐ γὰρ ἀνυστόν) οὔτε φράσαις, and DK28 B8, 34– 41 = D8 Laks-Most. Note the verb φράζειν as ’reveal’, and see the discussion in Steiner 1994, 16 – 29. Cf. Heracl. DK22 B1 = D1, D110 Laks-Most: φράζων ὅκως ἔχει.  See Bermúdez 2017.  Antisth. fr. 153B, 1 Prince. On the polysemy of the expressions of ’meaning’, see Zanker 2016. On Antisthenes see below p. 173 – 175.

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ics” with an exposition of Antisthenes’ analysis of speech act (Alex. Aphrod. Comm. in Arist. Top. 104b19, p. 79, 2– 7). The linguistic utterance thus has three parts: the linguistic item itself, spoken or written; a general subject coordinated with the meaning of the utterance, “carried by the semantic power of the linguistic medium to carry general meaning”; and the context in which the speaker utters the words.⁵² This discussion has important consequences as it suggests a distinction between reference/utterance and sense/meaning, a much-discussed later opposition in meaning of ὄνομα and διάνοια.⁵³ The Classical approach to the distinction between sound and sense as form and content is ideally to harmonise the two (Pl. Crat. 387d). But at its limit, the scientific account of language reduced it to a substance that was properly manipulated by an art of sounds.⁵⁴ In Gorgias’ time, this distinction was made clear through literary criticism. Aristophanes used it as a comic technique in his plays; in Clouds, Aeschylus is portrayed as an incomprehensible mountaincrag maker (κρημνοποιόν), full of noise (ψόφου πλέων, Ar. Nu. 1367). The noise of Aeschylus’ language evokes the stereotype of a demagogue with clear political connotations (οὐκ ἔδεισας τὸν ψόφον τῶν ῥημάτων, Ar. Ra. 492; ἐριβρεμέτης, Ar. Ra. 814).⁵⁵ Throughout ancient criticism, contemporary debates on language were subordinated to other practical functions, often applied in order to contribute to discussions of ethical values and politics. At the same time, the anomalists did not believe in an ideal correlation between the formal and the semantic structure of a word. They pointed out the irregularities appearing at all levels of linguistic relations.⁵⁶ Linguistic usage was thus discussed during this period as a sort of custom (νόμος), with more or less explicit ideas on its creation by man (τὰ μὲν γὰρ ὀνόματα φύσιος νομοθετήματά ἐστι, τὰ δὲ εἴδεα οὐ νομοθετήματα, ἀλλὰ βλαστήματα, Hipp. De arte 2).⁵⁷ The earliest documentation of the idea of linguistic convention, scrutinised in detail in

 Prince 2015, 20 and 518 – 523.  See Protag. DK80 A1 and pp. 53 – 54 and 65 – 66 below. Prince 2015, 521: “Antisthenes distinguished between sense (λέγειν τι / σημαίνειν τι), medium of statement (σημαίνειν διά τινων), and reference (λέγειν περί τινος). Even as the vocabulary is not distinguished, the constructions of the objects are distinguished; and for every utterance, there are two levels of object, the use of a linguistic medium and the reference to a particular object, which together constitute what is said in a linguistic formulation”. For more on Antisthenes’ language-studies, see in detail Prince 2015, 422– 540.  Ford 2002, 186 – 187.  Cf. also Ar. Ra. 1265 – 1294 and Strepsiades’ description of Aeschylus in Ar. Nu. 1367. On the ’sound-portrait’ of Aeschylus in the Frogs, see Scharffenberger 2007.  Sluiter 1997, 172– 173.  Verlinsky 2006, 402– 403; Craik 2015, 35 – 40.

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Plato’s Cratylus, occurs in the Hippocratic treatise Περὶ ἱερῆς νούσου (late fifth century BCE).⁵⁸ Accepting a “given” etymology of the word ’sacred’ (τῆς ἱερῆς νούσου καλεομένης), the author claims that the words are imposed and are not objective (οὐδέν τί μοι δοκέει τῶν ἄλλων θειοτέρη εἶναι νούσων οὐδὲ ἱερωτέρη), that is to say that there is no natural bond between the word and the denominated object.⁵⁹ In the much-quoted passage from Proclus, Democritus argued that the imperfect nature of language was proved by various factors (Democr. DK68 B26 DK = D205 Laks Most = Procl. 16, 6, 20 – 7,6). He is said to believe that the names are given by imposition (θέσει). He proved this with four arguments, two of which seem to in fact stem from the fifth century BCE. The first argument, which Democritus called “with many significations” (πολύσημον), was from homonymy (ἐκ τῆς ὁμωνυμίας). Different objects are called by the same name (τὰ γὰρ διάφορα πράγματα τῶι αὐτῶι καλοῦνται ὀνόματι), therefore the name is not given by nature, argued Democritus. The second argument, called by Democritus “in equipoise” (ἰσόρροπον), was from “the multitude of names” (ἐκ τῆς πολυωνυμίας). If different designations fit one and the same subject (εἰ γὰρ τὰ διάφορα ὀνόματα ἐπὶ τὸ αὐτὸ καὶ ἓν πρᾶγμα ἐφαρμόσουσιν) they should fit each other (ἐπάλληλα) and this is impossible (ὅπερ ἀδύνατον). When naturally appropriate to the same subject, designations should always be the same. And that, in point of fact, is not the case. The third, from “the change of names” (ἐκ τῆς τῶν ὀνομάτων μεταθέσεως), should be Democritean but seems to have been reworked by Proclus, whilst the fourth on “the lack of similar names” (ἐκ δὲ τῆς τῶν ὁμοίων ἐλλείψεως) looks spurious.⁶⁰ It is hard to reconstruct what exact vocabulary belonged to Democritus, and what vocabulary stems from Proclus’ paraphrasing of Democritean considerations. As revealed by the examples from comedy, the tripod-fragments by Epicharmus and Aristophanes, the passages from Thucydides and the Hippocratic treatise on the origin of names and the appropriateness of given names, Democritus and Gorgias were working with hot and trendy topics, topics discussed on

 Hipp. Morb. sacr. 1. See Craik 2015, 191– 195.  Verlinsky 2006, 165 – 170.  The third argument was connected to a change of name (μετώνυμον) and is described as ἐκ τῆς τῶν ὀνομάτων μεταθέσεως. It proves that names are conventional and cannot be given by nature. The example given is post-Democritean: how ’Aristocles’ was changed into ’Plato’ and ’Tyrtamus’ into ’Theophrastus’? The fourth argument (ἐκ δὲ τῆς τῶν ὁμοίων ἐλλείψεως, or νώνυμον) is anachronistic as it is constructed out of later (Aristotelian and Hellenistic-Roman) debates on paronymy and analogy. See the discussion with further bibliography in Ademollo 2003 and Ademollo 2011, 92– 94. See also López Eire 2007, 338.

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various levels and in various genres. Needless to say, such considerations on the meanings of words, the introduction of notions for synonymy, homonymy, the very fact of linguistic forms as subject to change, had a direct influence on literary and textual criticism at the time. Hippias’ treatment of the meaning and origin of the noun τύραννος closely overlapped with these discussions.⁶¹

1.4 Embodied equality An important point should be made here. Scientific ‘materialistic’ discourse was linked to comic materiality and provided content for metaphorical domains. Democritus’ “in equipoise” (ἰσόρροπον), associated with natural science and transposed into linguistic studies, recalls the well-known verse-weighing scene (vv. 1378 – 1411) in Aristophanes’ Frogs, and in particular the preparation process prior to this scene, which is a key example of embodied metaphor and embodied criticism.⁶² Though this chapter takes semantic rather than stylistic studies as its focus, Democritus’ ἰσόρροπον links the two spheres emphatically. In this scene, the spatial parameters of the metaphor of weighing words are established. The materialisation of metaphor is evident: two comic characters Aeschylus and Euripides will speak verses, each into his own scale standing on opposite sides of a balance on stage. However, before the balance is brought out, its coming is prepared by Pluto’s slave: “poetry will be weighed in the balance” (ταλάντῳ μουσικὴ σταθμήσεται, 797).⁶³ Elsewhere Democritus develops his idea of a blending acoustic, visual and mental spheres in linguistics. The names of the gods, claimed Democritus, are “speaking images” of the gods (ἀγάλματα φωνήεντα, Democr. DK68 B142 = D206 Laks-Most).⁶⁴ Apart from a significant implication of natural and physical correspondence between name and object in this passage, the presupposed dialogue with dramatic performance is noteworthy here. Democritus’ theoretical consideration goes hand in hand with Old Comedy’s reflection of semantic discourses whilst blending sensorimotor and somatic experience with intellectual debates. Names and name-givings are spoken, seen, heard, and thought on.

 See below p. 167.  On ἰσόρροπος concerning measures and weights cf. Aesch. Pers. 346 and Pl. Phd. 109a. See also IG II² 1013.34. On ἰσόρροπος frequently used in medical texts, see Hipp. De fract. 19, 15; De artic. 34, 16 – 17; 37, 31; 38, 3; 50, 26; 70, 20; De sem. 42, 14.  Dover 1993, 290; Sommerstein 1996, 225. On weighing and measuring as expressions of critical discourse, see Porter 2010, 262– 273.  Lapini 2015, 1020.

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The embodied metaphor of scale has found its place in the plot, poetry is doomed to be measured. Further in, Aeschylus and Euripides reuse and develop the image. Ευ. ἢν οὖν σὺ λέγῃς Λυκαβηττοὺς καὶ Παρνασσῶν ἡμῖν μεγέθη, τοῦτ’ ἐστὶ τὸ χρηστὰ διδάσκειν, ὃν χρὴ φράζειν ἀνθρωπείως; Αι. ἀλλ’, ὦ κακόδαιμον, ἀνάγκη μεγάλων γνωμῶν καὶ διανοιῶν ἴσα καὶ τὰ ῥήματα τίκτειν (Ar. Ra. 1056 – 1059) Eur. Thus when you speak in the size of Lycabettus and the magnitude of Parnassus, is this teaching useful things? Shouldn’t one talk in a human size? Aesch. By no means, you wretched! it is necessary to beget words equal to great thought and ideas.

The above-mentioned opposition of designation/ὄνομα and sense/διάνοια is recalled here explicitly in the juxtaposition of γνωμῶν καὶ διανοιῶν and ῥήματα. The adjective ἴσος uttered by the Aristophanic Aeschylus, if linked to Democritus’ ἰσόρροπον, can also be understood differently if considered in the context of linguistic debates. Should designations be equal to their subjects? Aeschylus apologises for his bombastic expressions but also offers a response to the discourse on the correspondence of names to objects.⁶⁵ This passage generates an enactivist interpretation where a physical dynamic interaction between the character and the environment creates the act of cognition. The audience is challenged to share the everyday experience of living in Attica, seeing the hill Lycabettus with its summit, which even today remains the highest point in Athens. Concrete concepts drawn from the visible natural environment aid understanding of abstract concepts. The huge panoramic mountain from Central Greece was known to every spectator as well, if not from a personal visit then from various myths and stories connected to it. This knowledge of Lycabettus and Parnassus, common among the author, actors and spectators, creates the imagery necessary to express the magnitude of Aeschylus’ tragic diction. The spatial and environmental dimension given to this diction highlights the relationship of materiality and topographic metaphor coordinated through the body and its sensory and motor capacities. As Worman pointed out, the “spatialisation of metaphor” maintains a double function, a landscape metaphor serving as an indicator of  Cf. also Pl. Symp. 185c4– 5. Aristodemus makes a word-pun Παυσανίου δὲ παυσαμένου (“as soon as Pausanias made a break”) and then adds: “The sophists teach me to formulate things in this balanced way” (διδάσκουσι γάρ με ἴσα λέγειν οὑτωσὶ οἱ σοφοί). Whether this means that the ἴσα λέγειν was a sophistic concept or not must remain open, but the metaphor of equipoise was present in the scholarly discourse of the time. See Destrée 2015.

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style and being itself “envisioned as creating spaces and moving from one place to another”.⁶⁶ It is evident that the nature and formation of word-meaning and the patterns and functions of language itself that are reflected in fifth century BCE literary, philosophic and scientific texts are given spatial and haptic dimensions by the genre of comedy. Other genres also echo contemporary intellectual discussions on the rationalistic opposition of nature and law as two forces which rule human order, with language constituting an essential part of this order. Thucydides echoed these discussions in his historiography, Parmenides and Empedocles in their poems on nature, and the authors of the Hippocratic corpus in medical treatises. Gorgias’ and Democritus’ prose treatises, which survive in fragments or in later paraphrase, dealt with questions of word-meaning and the patterns and functions of language in even greater detail. However, comedy blended these debates on stage and provided them with a theatrical performative dimension through costumes, masks, onstage requisites, and an active somatic engagement of both performers and recipients, which went beyond the scientific or literary text. The etymology and semantics of the object tripod are analysed on the (imaginary or real) stage in the productive environment due to the interaction of the audience with the actors and the characters. The juxtaposition of names and meanings is placed in the context of environmental imagery. Various meanings/designations of the object are heard, seen and (perhaps) touched on stage at this very moment. As has been emphasised by Mark Johnson, we can find “no better examples of how meaning happens than by attending to the arts”, with aesthetic contemplation of the arts providing “heightened, intensified and highly integrated experiences of meaning, using all our ordinary resources of meaning-making”.⁶⁷ Comedy thus created a further layer for the contemporary semantic discourse. Comic spectators experienced the embodied discussion of the etymology of the tripod, connecting it to the object brought onto stage (in Epicharmus’ and Aristophanes’ fragments), and they experienced the magnitude of Aeschylus’ words equal to their sense whilst they could see and touch the landscapes of the hill Lycabettus and the mountain Parnassus.

 Worman 2015, 8. The size-metaphors will be discussed further in the chapter on style below, pp. 90 – 94. On the engagement of metaphors with natural environment in Homeric poetry, see Brockliss 2019.  Johnson 2007, xii-xiii.

Chapter 2 Grammar with perceptual details Alongside semantic studies including the idea of naming, word meaning, and the relationship between the name and the denominated object, fifth-century intellectuals also studied grammatical learning. Grammar presupposed the study of the values of the letters and of accentuation and prosody. Attic comedy responded to contemporary intellectual debates on gender classification and verbal tenses as well as classes of expression, debates, which are evident in passages from Licymnius, Hippias and Prodicus. Again, the form and means by which grammatical learning was reflected in comic performance contributed to the perception of grammar studies by the audience broadly. Letters, grammatical categories, and linguistic correctness acquired material dimensions through somatic movement, costumes, light and theatrical space. In this chapter I argue that contemporary grammar discussions, which the audience experienced in theatrical space as live performance events, inspired emotional intensity and intellectual reflection through which different views and perspectives were conveyed. Language-discourse and language-vocabulary notably play a central role in the plot of Aristophanes’ Clouds. To rid himself of debt, Strepsiades wants to become a student of Socrates and learn “unfair speech” from him. The correct use of language is incorporated into the plot of the play as the first step in standard sophistic training that Socrates offers Strepsiades: 1) correct language use (vv. 627– 692), 2) the correct definition of the problem (vv. 693 – 734), and 3) the correct application of the acquired knowledge of the practical circumstances (vv. 735 – 790). As a result, a purely grammatical scene unwinds onstage which conveys Protagoras’ teaching of the correct use of gender, for without the correct use of grammar one cannot master “unfair speech”. Socrates states that “you have to learn something else: what four-footed (animals) are masculine in the correct way” (ἅττ’ ἐστὶν ὀρθῶς ἄρρενα, Ar. Nu. 658 – 659). The key words ὀρθῶς and ἄρρενα might allude to contemporary discussion in intellectual circles which (a part of) the audience must have recognised. The chapter examines gender classification, verbal tenses, and classes of expression, as these elements are woven together in performative intellectual debates on stage. Attic comedy as a genre reacted to and communicated with the discourses of intellectuals such as Licymnius, Hippias and Prodicus. Here I also suggest that there is a certain similarity between the experiential tools used to discuss grammar in comedy and those used in a contemporary Hippocratic text (Vict. 1.23).

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-005

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2.1 Correctness of speech According to a later tradition, one of the earliest figures to examine the correct usage of language was Theagenes of Rhegium, discussed below in connection to textual criticism. The scholion to Dionysius Thrax makes a claim to a kind of grammar “concerning Hellenismos, which is newer” (ἡ δὲ περὶ τὸν ἑλληνισμόν, ἥτις καὶ νεωτέρα ἐστίν). The author then adds that this kind of grammar originated with Theagenes of Rhegium and had been brought to perfection by the Peripatetics Aristotle and Praxiphanes (ἀρξαμένη μὲν ἀπὸ Θεαγένους, τελεσθεῖσα δὲ παρὰ τῶν Περιπατητικῶν Πραξιφάνους τε καὶ ᾿Aριστοτέλους, DK8 A1a= Σ Dion. T. GG I 3, 164, 23 – 29 and 448, 12 – 16). This much-discussed evidence is obscure and obviously anachronistic, as the term ἑλληνισμός is usually applied to Hellenistic reflections on language, with linguistic correctness being linked to the names of Theophrastus of Eresus and Diogenes of Babylon.¹ However, if the scholiast had any reason to consider Theagenes a proto-grammarian, then the material Theagenes worked with must have been the Homeric text, and his studies must have been focused on the explanation of glosses and morphologically anomalous terms.² One of the crucial terms elaborated on in this context was the much-discussed notion of ὀρθοέπεια (’correctness of utterance’).³ This notion is traditionally linked to Protagoras of Abdera, but has also been linked to his contemporaries, the sophist Prodicus of Ceus and the dithyrambic poet (and grammarian?) Licymnius of Chios.⁴ As has been repeatedly emphasised above, concepts such as the correct usage of names did not refer to one particular ’linguistic’ branch in the fifth century BCE. Developed in the context of criticism of Homer and other poets, it was later applied to linguistic studies more broadly. The first experiments were carried out on the epic texts.

 On the concept and criteria of Hellenismos, see Pagani 2015.  Biondi 2015, 20 – 21 and 43 – 56 with further bibliography. See below p. 163.  On the ‘correctness of language’, see Pl. Phdr. 267c (Protagoras and his book on ὀρθοέπεια?), Euthyd. 277e (Prodicus and ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων), Crat. 384b (Prodicus and ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων). On Protagoras’ concept of ὀρθοέπεια generally see Pfeiffer 1968, 37– 38 and 280 – 281; Fehling 1976; Classen 1976, 220; Schiappa 2003, 164– 166; Ford 2001, 101; Grintser 2017a, 369 – 372, Grintser 2017b. See also Guthrie 1971, 204– 207, Tsitsiridis 2001, 69 – 74, and Brancacci 2002. On the notion ‘term’, see above p. 26.  Cf. DK80 A24 = D5b Laks-Most (= Pl. Crat. 391b-c), DK80 A25 = D31 Laks-Most (= Pl. Prtg. 339a), DK80 A26 = D22a Laks-Most (= Pl. Phdr. 267c); Lapini 2015, 1015 – 1016. On Licymnius see below pp. 66 – 69.

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Protagoras’ observations on grammatical and linguistic issues have for the most part been transmitted to us through paraphrases and later sources, but they are nonetheless of crucial importance to the development of linguistic ideas during the fifth century BCE. The later development of such systems can be linked to the institutionalisation of a discipline; this took place during the fourth century BCE and reached its final form in the philological experiments of Alexandrian times. Still, key processes such as textual emendation and elimination, copying and editing, and critical text interpretation and analysis can be seen in a previous and speculative form in Protagoras’ consideration of gender, grammatical relativism, acts of speech and suchlike. We can follow Protagoras’ analysis of the first verses of poems and the ways in which he criticised them. He was of course hardly the first to do so, with Homer having been analysed since at least the sixth century BCE. If later evidence discussed below is to be trusted, the real novelty was his systematisation of language, which can be understood in the context of the famous ‘cultural turn’, which incorporated the high intellectual standards of rationalising urbanised life and the growing exchange of ideas between cities. Previously the focus had been the interpretation of myths and plot, such as in Pherecydes, Stesichorus and Epicharmus, and on comparison of text transmission, such as in Theagenes and other rhapsodic variants. From the mid fifth century BCE, the growing role of rhetoric posed new questions and new tasks. For example, rhetoric was crucial to victory over an opponent in court, and so was training in order to be able to scrutinise an opponent’s arguments. The Iliad became a source for such training: if you could criticise Homer you should also be able to criticise your rival.⁵ Protagoras’ systematisation notably concerns two big issues: 1) the gender of nouns and the congruence between nouns and verbal forms, and 2) the moods of the verb and their relationship to basic types of speech. Protagoras’ vocabulary as employed to analyse issues of grammar will be considered below. Here the concept of ὀρθοέπεια itself will be the focus. Considering Protagoras’ analysis of grammatical categories such as gender and mood, the concept of ὀρθοέπεια – perhaps the correct use of poetic expressions or poetic diction – treated the use of separate words with linguistic elements. The key to the concept of ὀρθοέπεια being the consistency in content

 Cf. also Pl. Prtg. 318d-319a for Protagoras’ own claim as to the reasons why his students study poetry.

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of the poetic text is implied by the connection to the term ὀρθός.⁶ If applied to separate words, statements, or concepts, the term would suggest that these words were used ’correctly’, in the sense that the words explain and correspond to the way things are. This is the use which is perhaps behind Prodicus’ ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων discussed below.⁷ To say that a word is used correctly implies that the meanings of the word correctly describe what its referents are like in reality; the term ὀρθός signals a direct correspondence between the semantics of a word and the characteristics of the referent to which it is applied. The word is applied “rightly” to its referent if its referent displays the corresponding features. With actions, the addition of ὀρθός (usually as the adverb ὀρθῶς) implies that the action is performed correctly “according to the norm”.⁸ The term ὀρθός can be applied to reasoning or discourse, with the focus shifting to the content of the discourse; a discourse is correct if there are no apparent contradictions between the various elements of its argumentation. Antiphon used the syntagma ὀρθὸς λόγος (‘correct order/reasonable account’) to refer to the debate on law and nature in one of his treatises. According to Antiphon, on a properly reasonable account (ὀρθῷ γε λ[ό]γῳ), things that cause pain (τὰ ἀλγύνοντα) do not benefit nature more than things that cause joy, nor would things that cause grief be more advantageous than things that cause pleasure (ὀνίνησιν τὴ[ν] φύσιν μᾶλλον ἢ τὰ εὐφραίνοντα), for things that are in truth advantageous must not harm but benefit (Antiph. DK87 B44 = P. Oxy. A, col. 4, ll.1– 22). ὀρθὸς λόγος takes the place of the ’natural’ in the sense that this order is correct by nature. The correctness/appropriateness in reasoning required here lies in the consistency and correspondence between the various steps of an argument. From the modern perspective this consistency is inherently linguistic, and the truth of an argument and its correspondence to objects in the physical world is secondary to its consistency.⁹

 Gagarin 2002, 26 – 27. On the intensive use of orthos in contemporary discourses, see Rademaker 2013, 101 on Eur. Andr. 376 – 377, HF 56, IT 610.  See Grintser 2017a, 369 – 372 with further bibliography.  Cf. Eur. Hel. 1226: ὀρθῶς μὲν ἥδε συμφορὰ δακρύεται, Pl. Prot. 332a6: πράττωσιν ἅνθρωποι ὀρθῶς τε καὶ ὠφελίμως, Antiph. Tetr. 4, 8: ὀρθῶς γὰρ καὶ δικαίως τοὺς ἀκουσίως ἀποκτείναντας, Tetr. 4, 10: ὀρθῶς δὲ τῶν ἐλέγχων ἐλεγχόντων.  Cf. the beginning of the Hippocratic treatise Airs, Waters, Places: ᾽Ιητρικὴν ὅστις βούλεται ὀρθῶς ζητέειν, τάδε χρὴ ποιέειν (“For anyone who wants to inquire correctly about medicine, should do the following”, Aër. aqu. loc. 1).

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Protagoras seems to be credited with having used such ὀρθὸς λόγος. Plutarch describes a discussion concerning an accident at an athletic event between Pericles and Protagoras. When a certain athlete accidentally hit his rival with a javelin and kills him, Pericles allegedly spent a whole day (ἡμέραν ὅλην) with Protagoras discussing the problem of whether it was the javelin, or the one who hurled it, or the organisers of the event, who should be held responsible for the accident on the most correct account (κατὰ τὸν ὀρθότατον λόγον, DK80 A10 = D30 Laks-Most = Plut. Per. 36.5). The superlative degree might emphasise the connection of the concept with Protagoras, who was evidently an authority to consult on ὀρθὸς λόγος.¹⁰ The notion ’correct’ belongs to standard vocabulary in any language and thus it is hard to decide when it is used as a marked word due to a specific ’correctness-of-diction’-discourse (ὀρθὸς λόγος, ὀρθοέπεια), such as is the case now with ’political correctness’ as a marked syntagma. ‘Correctness’ during the sophistic age seems to have had such a marked connotation. The word is used for example in a treatise, contemporary to Aristophanes, from the Hippocratic corpus referring to a litigant defending a weak position in court. The opposition of the weaker and stronger logos is set out, much as in Aristophanes’ Clouds. Those who do not reason correctly (οἱ μὴ ὀρθῶς λογιζόμενοι), states the author, blame the innocent whilst excusing the ones who are responsible (Hippocr. De arte 7). A consequent analysis of congruency and incongruency as well as consistency and inconsistency of vocabulary in poetic texts, and later in rhetoric, was the focus of ὀρθοέπεια-studies. This cannot be separated from pure linguistic matters concerning the coherence and consistency of poetic discourse, as well as observations regarding the correct use of individual words. The criterion of ὀρθοέπεια covers, to a certain extent, the scholarly study of poetic diction, focusing on the correct use of isolated elements of poetic diction like words or verb forms. However, it also investigates the ’correctness’ or consistency of entire poetic texts.¹¹ The other important figure in fifth century debates on the correct usage of names seems to have been Prodicus of Ceus. According to Plato, he was primarily concerned with semantics and lexicography.¹² The notion ὀρθότης τῶν

 Cf. Αntiph. Tetral. 2, 1– 2 on a similar issue, in which the defence argues that the boy who killed a slave with a javelin was not to blame, for the boy who threw the javelin did not do anything irregular, whereas the slave made a mistake of running in early, and thus for all practical purposes killed himself. See Gagarin 2002, 119 – 127 and Rademaker 2013, 103.  Rademaker 2013, 108.  Cf. Alex. Aphr. Comm. Arist. Top. 181; Mayhew 2011, 130 – 131.

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ὀνομάτων, ’the correctness of designations/names’ is attributed to him.¹³ Plato notably gave examples of Prodicus’ skill of differentiating apparent synonyms based on differences in their semantic load, and according to Plato, Socrates also learnt from this distinction. Both Protagoras and Prodicus are depicted as considering the correctness of language to have been part of a whole system or worldview that went substantially beyond questions of language per se. Protagoras, who developed political skills coinciding with ethics, and the notion of politike arete to which all the other arts were subordinate, explained that the quarrel within the logos was a consequence of eristike, the practice of speech and counter-speech. Protagoras’ ὀρθοέπεια was then further developed in parallel with Prodicus’ studies, who described differences in words (διαίρεσις τῶν ὀνομάτων).¹⁴ The term ’synonym’ does not appear before Aristotle, but as we have seen Democritus allegedly discussed “the multitude of names” (πολυωνυμία), which dealt with the question whether “different designations fit one and the same subject” (εἰ γὰρ τὰ διάφορα ὀνόματα ἐπὶ τὸ αὐτὸ καὶ ἓν πρᾶγμα ἐφαρμόσουσιν).¹⁵ For example, in Plato’s Protagoras Prodicus gives a lecture on the subtle semantic differences between κοινός (“common”) and ἴσος (“equal”), ἀμφισβητεῖν (“to disagree”) and ἐρίζειν (“to quarrel”) and such like (Pl. Prot. 337a1-c4). The concept of ὀρθοέπεια overlapped with the concept of the ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων. The purely terminological ὀρθοέπεια lies in the field of the correctness of poetic expression. ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων means ’correctness of names’ and implies linguistic, or rather grammatical, approaches to language including gender and proper use of speech acts.¹⁶ This phrase was primarily linked to Prodicus and refers to etymologies and synonyms and, for the most part, semantics. However, in Plato’s dialogue Cratylus, Socrates suggests that Hermogenes’ brother Callias learned from Protagoras about the ὀρθότης τῶν

 Prodicus taught courses on the correct usage of names (Pl. Crat. 384b = Prod. DK84 A11 = P5 Laks-Most); however, the surviving titles of his works do not provide any hint to linguistic topics, cf. Prod. DK84 A16 = D5b Laks-Most (= Pl. Euthyd. 277e), Prod. DK84 A13 = D21a, D21b Laks-Most (= Pl. Prot. 337a-c); DK84 A14 = D21c, D21d Laks-Most (= Pl. Prot. 340a); DK84 A15 = D22 LaksMost (= Pl. Men. 75e); DK84 A17 = D5c, D23 Laks-Most (= Pl. Lach. 197b); DK84 A18 = D5a, D24 Laks-Most (= Pl. Charm. 163a-b, d); DK84 A19 = D6a, R10 Laks-Most (= Arist. Top. 112b22); Mayer 1913.  Pl. Prtg. 358a6. See Brancacci 2017, 179 – 183. See below, pp. 60, 67, 69, 172.  On Democritus see above p. 155 – 162. On the formation of the term ’synonym’ see Arist. Rhet. 1405a: λέγω δὲ κύριά τε καὶ συνώνυμα οἷον τὸ πορεύεσθαι καὶ τὸ βαδίζειν. Cf. the standard use of the adjective “sharing the same name” in Eur. Hel. 495 – 496: Λακεδαίμονος δὲ γαῖά τις ξυνώνυμος Τροίας.  Kerferd 1981, 68 – 69 and Yunis 2011, 203.

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ὀνομάτων, meaning that separate words and proper names should give reliable information as to what their referents really are, and that they should be etymologically explicable as they provide a meaningful explanation of their referents.¹⁷ Prodicus’ and Protagoras’ ideas are also supported by Socrates’ etymological speculations. For various genres in poetry, etymologies are naturally rooted in poetic language. However, the evidence is too scarce to be sure that there was a systematic treatment of etymologies before Plato’s Cratylus, in which a large number of spectacular etymologies is set forth by Socrates and connected with the natural or conventional norm of correctness.¹⁸

2.2 Embodied correctness In Clouds, Socrates reveals from where the natural correctness of designations should originate. Whilst the Platonic Socrates demands a definition of natural correctness (ἥντινα φῂς εἶναι τὴν φύσει ὀρθότητα ὀνόματος, Pl. Crat. 391a), the Aristophanic Socrates famously explains the ’correct’ nature or origin of thunder using the whole range of sensorimotor metaphors. βροντή and πορδή are related, states Socrates, an argument which Strepsiades supports through the ’grammatical’ statement τὠνόματ’ ἀλλήλοιν βροντὴ καὶ πορδὴ ὁμοίω (“the two names are similar, ’thunder’ and ’fart””, Ar. Nu. 394).¹⁹ Etymologies were common in early poetry as well, as has been discussed above, but in employing such statements, as well as through a consequent repetition of the marked word ὀρθός, Aristophanes once again embodies contemporary (discourses on) etymological considerations. Socrates is the main bearer of the “correctness”-discourse in the Clouds. ἅττ’ ἐστὶν ὀρθῶς ἄρρενα, says Socrates in v. 659 and then further in v. 679 ὀρθῶς γὰρ λέγεις. The orthoepeia-passage is neatly prepared in the Clouds when Socrates asks Strepsiades: “Do you want to have clear knowledge about the divine things as they are in the correct way?” (ἅττ’ ἐστὶν ὀρθῶς, Ar. Nu. 250 – 251). The first catchword occurs in v. 228, where Socrates is speaking: “I could never have made correct (ὀρθῶς) discoveries about celestial phaenomena” (Ar. Nu. 227– 228).

 See Fehling 1965, 216; Fehling 1976, 345; Brancacci 2002, 180.  On the etymologies in Plato’s Cratylus, see Sedley 1998. On etymological explorations in Ancient Greece generally, see Woodhead 1928, Lallot 1991, and Sluiter 2015.  Dover 1968, 151; Sommerstein 1982, 181– 182; Olson 2021, 117.

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Prodicus is connected to celestial phenomena in the later tradition. According to Galen he dealt with physiology and wrote a work Περὶ Φύσεως, like the other ’physicists’ Parmenides, Empedocles, Diogenes of Apollonia and Gorgias.²⁰ This might explain why Aristophanes repeatedly connects the ὀρθός to the μετέωρος (both key words for Prodicus’ activity). In the parabasis of Aristophanes’ Birds, intellectuals are mocked with catchphrases such as περὶ τῶν μετεώρων (v. 690) and ὀρθῶς (vv. 690, 692).²¹ The chorus-leader delivering the parabatic anapaests adds layers of meaning to this framework: “and knowing it correctly you may tell Prodicus from me to get lost for the rest of his days” (εἰδότες ὀρθῶς, Προδίκῳ παρ’ ἐμοῦ κλάειν εἴπητε τὸ λοιπόν, Ar. Av. 692). In this onomasti komodein Prodicus is presented as both the expounder of a cosmogonic/theogonic theory (and a rival to the chorus of Birds!) and the theoretician of the ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων. According to Sextus Empiricus, Prodicus interpreted traditional religious beliefs materialistically. He held the opinion that the ancients worshipped everything that brought benefit to man, such as the sun, moon, and rivers, as gods, just as the Egyptians worshiped the Nile. For these reasons, they worshiped bread as Demeter, wine as Dionysus, water as Poseidon, and fire as Hephaestus.²² It may be that the Birds sent Prodicus to hell for his materialism, but the repeated ὀρθῶς acts as a cue pointing to Prodicus’ linguistic activity. The key word ὀρθῶς and its relatives are reflected elsewhere in drama and repeatedly used creatively by the comic poets. Cratinus’ comedy Ploutoi (429? BCE), preserved in a papyrus fragment, is rich in the terminology of rhetoric and linguistic studies, including the lemma ὀρθοῦσθαι. The passage sounds self-referential and in all probability it is the chorus who is speaking: “To me then… turn to put together… part of speech (μέροϲ λόγου)… stir up/wake, my spirit, … tongue wellmixed set straight for a delivery of words (γλῶ[τταν εὐ‐]κέραϲτον ὀρθουμένην εἰϲ ὑπόκριϲιν λόγων, Cratin. fr. 171, 60 – 65 PCG). This emphasis on the gatheringtogether within one short passage of various kinds of language-vocabulary, such as μέροϲ λόγου, γλῶτταν, ὀρθουμένην, εἰϲ ὑπόκριϲιν λόγων, suggests an allusion to a specific and perhaps fashionable discourse of the time, something recognisable that provoked the associations of the audience.

 Prodicus DK84 B4 = D1, D9 Laks-Most. Cf. also frs. 61– 78 on natural philosophy, cosmology and religion in Mayhew 2011, 38 – 51 and 159 – 194.  See Dunbar 1995, 433 – 437. On the list of passages on the parody of philosophy in Sicilian and Attic comedy, see Laks-Most 2016c, 260 – 317. See also Carey 2000. On the metaphor μετέωρος, see Newiger 2000 (=1957), 63 – 65.  Prodicus DK84 B5 = D14, D15a, D15b, D16, D17 Laks-Most, frs. 71– 78 Mayhew, and Mayhew 2011, 180 – 194.

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ὀρθοέπεια, ὀρθὸς λόγος and ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων were evidently key concepts in the rhetorical and linguistic discussions of the Classical period, debates that were clearly associated with, perhaps even initiated by, Protagoras and Prodicus. But it is also worth examining the ’special vocabulary’ that belonged to discussions on the correctness of words during this period.

2.3 Protagoras on grammar Linguistic studies in Athens in the fifth century BCE were intricately connected with eristic training, speech pitted against speech. The logical analysis of language was instrumentalised against opponents. This contributed directly to the future development of grammar as a discipline.²³ There are all together five attestations of Protagoras’ study of language: two on the four types of expression and their correct use, two on genders of nouns and their correct use, and one on verbal tenses. In his treatment of ὀρθοέπεια he thus considered discrepancies between the form and the use of linguistic features. Protagoras is said to have distinguished four types of speech, these being ’prayer’ (εὐχωλή), ’question’ (ἐρώτησις), ’answer’ (ἀπόκρισις) and ’command’ (ἐντολή). He called these four moods the ’fundaments of speeches’ (οὓς καὶ πυθμένας εἶπε λόγων, DK80 A1 = D. L. 9, 54). These distinctions vaguely recall the four verbal moods such as the subjunctive for ἐρώτησις, the indicative for ἀπόκρισις, the imperative for ἐντολή, and the optative for εὐχωλή.²⁴ Protagoras seems to have worked with the Homeric text to gain an understanding of grammar. Elsewhere, he is said to have criticised Homer’s invocation of the Muse using an inappropriate imperative (ἐπίταξις). Whilst thinking that he is praying (ὅτι εὔχεσθαι οἰόμενος), says Protagoras, Homer is fact giving a command (ἐπιτάττει): μῆνιν ἄειδε θεά. To command (τὸ γὰρ κελεῦσαι) to do or not to do something is an instruction/imperative (ποιεῖν τι ἢ μὴ ἐπίταξίς ἐστιν, DK80 A29 = Arist. Poet. 1456b15 – 18).

 Prot. DK80 A1 = D1, D4a, D15, D17, D20, D26, D29 Laks-Most (= Diog. 9.55), cf. DK80 B6: τέχνη ἐριστικῶν, Pfeiffer 1968, 37 and 280 – 281; Fehling 1976; Classen 1976, 218 – 226; Di Cesare 1991, 100 – 104; Brancacci 2002; Rademaker 2013.  On Protagoras’ typology of πυθμένες λόγων, see Huitink and Willi 2021. Alcidamas says that there are four types of λόγος: address φάσις (“affirmation”), ἀπόφασις (“negation”), ἐρώτησις (“question”), προσαγόρευσις (“address”, T9 AS; DL 9, 543). Rademaker 2013, 92. See also Guthrie 1971, 220, Sluiter 1990, 8, f. 20 and Schenkeveld 1984, 293 and 326 – 328 on the correspondence of πυθμένες λόγων with various types of speech.

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We cannot know whether the term ἐπίταξις was used by Protagoras himself or whether it was Aristotle who paraphrased Protagoras’ text (or his source) about Protagoras. It is clear though that Protagoras discussed the appropriate use of the classes of expression, even though we cannot be sure about the exact vocabulary he used. According to Aristotle, Protagoras worked with the gender of nouns (τὰ γένη τῶν ὀνομάτων).²⁵ Through the prism of biological differences in gender, he distinguished three genders: masculine (ἄρρενα), feminine (θήλεα) and lifeless things (σκεύη). With explicit reference to Protagoras, Aristotle mentions this distinction as the fourth of the five preconditions for the correctness of the Greek language (quote Arist. Rhet. 1407a19 – 20: “the principle of style is to use Greek language correctly; it consists of five preconditions”). The genders should be reproduced correctly (δεῖ γὰρ ἀποδιδόναι καὶ ταῦτα ὀρθῶς): “after having arrived and spoken, she went away” (ἡ δ’ ἐλθοῦσα καὶ διαλεχθεῖσα ᾤχετο, DK 80 A27 = Arist. Rhet. 1407b6). It remains unclear whether this is a direct quote from Protagoras, or whether this is Aristotle’ interpretation of Protagoras’ thought. The congruence of endings between the feminine relative pronoun (ἡ) and feminine participle form (ἐλθοῦσα and διαλεχθεῖσα) is offered as an example, whilst the verbal past form ᾤχετο lacks a gender marker.²⁶ In his analysis of linguistic errors, Protagoras considered evident the morphological consistency of a natural gender and the relation of the gender of names to the biological gender of their referents.²⁷ Working once more with the Homeric text, he discusses morphological forms; for example, μῆνις (’wrath’) and πήληξ (’helmet’) should be masculine. According to Protagoras, he who says οὐλομένην (‘accursed’) referring to wrath commits a linguistic error (σολοικίζει), though he does not seem to do so in regard to the other examples (οὐ φαίνεται δὲ τοῖς ἄλλοις). He who says οὐλόμενον seems to commit an error, but (in point of fact) does not commit any error (ἀλλ’ οὐ σολοικίζει, DK 80 A 28 = Arist. Soph. el. 14, 173b). The criteria Protagoras had in mind when he evaluated linguistic error have already been analysed. They could at times be morphological, on the analogy of the masculine names ending on -s such as θώραξ (“corslet”), πόρπαξ (“handle of a shield”), and στύραξ (“storax”).²⁸ Aristotle stated in his Poetics that nouns ending on (τελευτᾷ εἰς τὸ) “-ς” or “-ψ” are

 On the relation between natural and grammatical gender in Greek, see Janse 2020. On Protagoras’ treatment of grammatical gender, see in detail Huitink and Willi 2021.  Sluiter 1990.  On the search for errors in Aristophanes’ Frogs and the highlighted use of the lemma ἁμαρτία/ἁμαρτάνω, see below pp. 195 – 196. Cf. also a Theophrastus’ title Περὶ σολοικισμῶν.  Gomperz 1922 368, Fehling 1965, 215, Fehling 1976, 344. See also Rademaker 2013, 90.

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masculine (ἄρρενα, Arist. Poet. 1458a 9 – 10). Further on Aristotle says that neutral nouns (τὰ δὲ μεταξὺ) end with “-ι” and “-υ” and “-ν” and “-ς” (Arist. Poet. 1458a 16 – 17). On the other hand, the criteria could be semantic, considering that both nouns μῆνις and πήληξ have virile connotations.²⁹ Finally, the ‘tempus’ category was linked in antiquity to studies made by Protagoras.³⁰ According to Diogenes Laertius, Protagoras was the first to determine the units of time (μέρη χρόνου διώρισε), propose the meaning of the right moment (καιροῦ δύναμιν ἐξέθετο), create competitions of speeches (λόγων ἀγῶνας ἐποιήσατο) and provide litigants with clever devices (σοφίσματα τοῖς πραγματολογοῦσι προσήγαγε). Furthermore, he ignored the sense/meaning, arguing for the name/designation (τὴν διάνοιαν ἀφεὶς πρὸς τοὔνομα διελέχθη), and he initiated the type of eristic debates that were typical for the epoch of Diogenes Laertius (τὸ νῦν ἐπιπόλαιον γένος τῶν ἐριστικῶν ἐγέννησεν, DKA1 = D.L. 9, 52).³¹ This point is complicated, and worth explaining in greater detail. As recently argued, it is unlikely that Protagoras himself actually developed a grammatical theory concerning verbal tenses.³² Caution seems appropriate, though, due to problems in using later evidence to understand the activities of fifth century BCE intellectuals. The term μέρη χρόνου, though anachronistic, would mean that Diogenes credited Protagoras with determining grammatical units of time for the first time. Protagoras probably addressed the problem in the context of rhetorical training, as the passage in Diogenes suggests. However, linguistic categories, which would be important for the future systematisation of grammar, are also considered here, and perhaps, in case of tempus, specifically verbal categories are considered here. Protagoras might have provided definitions for the tempus (past, present and future or similar), or just pointed to their importance. When considering the significant opposition of διάνοια and ὄνομα, ascribed to Protagoras further on in this passage, such a conclusion seems probable. The opposition of διάνοια and ὄνομα is remarkable, as has been mentioned in chapter 1 on Aeschylus’ speech about Lycabettus and Parnassus (Ar.

 See Kerferd 1981, 68 – 69 on the possibility of both criteria being applied simultaneously. See also Lougovaja and Ast 2004 on the use of Menis as a personal male name and of Pelex referring to the deme Peleces.  See Dunn 2001.  The eristic debates are perhaps another reference to speech competitions (λόγων ἀγῶνας ἐποιήσατο) mentioned above.  On the analysis of the bibliography concerning this point, see Rademaker 2013, 94.

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Ra. 1059).³³ It would constitute one of the crucial concepts of later linguistic theories in Antiquity, taking its origin probably in the Stoic opposition of σημαῖνον/ expression versus σημαινόμενον/λεκτόν/meaning.³⁴ However discourse of the fifth century BCE was quite capable of spitting out proto-theories concerning this opposition as part of its early experiments in linguistic analysis. Plato’s Ion is a key example of this: a rhapsode, says Socrates, should be above all concerned with the poet Homer, examining his thought/meaning (τὴν τούτου διάνοιαν ἐκμανθάνειν) and not just his words/verses (μὴ μόνον τὰ ἔπη, Pl. Ion 530b). The opposition διάνοια versus ἔπη, which a good rhapsode should examine in the Homeric text, points to the key duality of language, that of content and expression. Plato’s passage does not prove that Protagoras also considered this duality, as Diagenes Laertius suggests (τὴν διάνοιαν ἀφεὶς πρὸς τοὔνομα διελέχθη), but it places Diagenes’ evidence into context. If Diagenes’ source has any validity, Protagoras – in contrast to the rhapsodes – focused not on interpretation and sense (τὴν διάνοιαν ἀφεὶς), but rather formalistically on names and designations (πρὸς τοὔνομα διελέχθη).

2.4 Licymnius, Hippias and Prodicus on grammar Protagoras’ contemporary Licymnius of Chios may perhaps also be connected to grammar studies. He was a dithyrambic poet and analysed rhetoric. He was connected to Gorgias and Gorgias’ pupil Polus in the later tradition.³⁵ According to Aristotle, he wrote a techne where he analysed speech subsections and kinds of narration, according them the bombastic names – environmental metaphors – which Aristotle brings on stage. Aristotle argues that one should only provide a designation (ὄνομα τίθεσθαι) to a certain species (εἶδός τι) and to a difference (διαφορὰν), explaining how the species differs from other species; otherwise, the designation is rendered empty and silly (κενὸν καὶ ληρῶδες), like those Licym-

 The more common claim is that words and ideas should go together to achieve the effect: ῥηματίοισιν καινοῖς αὐτὸν καὶ διανοίαις κατατοξεύσω (Ar. Nu. 943 – 944), ἐποίησε τέχνην μεγάλην ὑμῖν κἀπύργωσ’ οἰκοδομήσας ἔπεσιν μεγάλοις καὶ διανοίαις (Ar. Pax 750).  Cf. also Sen. Epist. 9, 20: ut non verbis serviamus sed sensibus (“so that we use meanings and not words”) and Quint. 8, 2, 6: proprietas non ad nomen sed ad vim significandi refertur (“propriety therefore refers not to the word, but to its semantic value”). On the theory of the signifier in the Stoic philosophy of language, see Mühl 1962, 15 – 16; Manetti 1993, 92– 102.  Dion. Hal. Lys. 3; cf. Dion. Hal. Thuc. 24 (Licymnius, like Polus, coming from the school of Gorgias); schol. Pl. Phdr. 267c (Licymnius being a teacher of Polus). See Ford 2013, 327– 329, and Schollmeyer 2020, 45.

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nius makes in his treatise (ἐν τῇ τέχνῃ), where he designates certain stylistic features “wafting” (ἐπούρωσιν), “wandering” (ἀποπλάνησιν), and “ramifications” (ὄζους, Arist. Rhet. 3.1414b15 – 17). Though ridiculed by Aristotle, Licymnius’ designations had been in use in rhetorical schools for some time. The fourth century BCE comic playwright Cratinus the Younger alludes to this ’Gorgianic’ vocabulary in his Tarantinoi (fr. 7 PCG), the title of which alludes geographically to the title to Gorgias’ Western Greece. A character in vivid embodied metaphors, describing a contemporary rhetorician who is experienced in the strength of speech (διαπειρώμενον τῆς τῶν λόγων ῥώμης), claims that the rhetorician is able to upset and stir up (ταράττειν καὶ κυκᾶν) his guest in a shrewd way (νουβυστικῶς) with contradictions (τοῖς ἀντιθέτοις), conclusions (τοῖς πέρασι), parallelisms (τοῖς παρισώμασιν), wanderings (τοῖς ἀποπλάνοις), and magnitudes (τοῖς μεγέθεσιν).³⁶ The designations drawn from contemporary rhetorical (perhaps Pythagorean) exercises are evidently connected to Licymnius’ vocabulary, both in general, such as Aristotle’s description of Licymnius’ bombastic style and Cratinus’ ironic μεγέθεσιν, and in more specific examples, such as environmental-spatial ’digressive’ metaphor Licymnius’ ἀποπλάνησις and Cratinus’ ἀπόπλανος. In a later source, metaphor Licymnius’ ἀπό, like Prodicus, is said to have taught certain distinctions among names (ὀνομάτων τινὰς διαιρέσεις): those which are ordinary/standard (κύρια), those which are compound (σύνθετα), those which are related (ἀδελφά), those which are additional/epithets (ἐπίθετα), and many others with regard to beautiful diction (πρὸς εὐεπίαν, Herm. Pl. Phdr. p. 239.12 and Schol. ad Phdr. 267c).³⁷ This classification corresponds partially to Aristotelian discussion of the kinds of words, with Aristotle employing most of these adjectives as technical terms.³⁸ It is difficult to determine whether these designations belonged to Licymnius’ vocabulary in exactly this form, but it is indeed probable that terms such as κύρια, σύνθετα and ἐπίθετα were in fact pre-Aristotelian in reference to language, coined in the fifth century BCE. Crucially, in the same passage as

 Mastellari 2020, 96 – 103. Cf. τάραττε καὶ κύκα (Ar. Eq. 251) and the function of the combination ταράττειν καὶ κυκᾶν as the proper activity of the demagogue. On the distinctive use of both verbs in Aristophanes’ Knights, see Newiger 2000, 27-30. On similar context in Alexis’ comedy Tarantinoi see below p. 85.  Lucarini & Moreschini 2012, 251. On the term διαίρεσις, see above p.60 and below pp.69 and 172.  Cf. κύριον ὄνομα as opposed to μεταφορά and γλῶττα, Arist. Rhet. 1404b6, 1410b12, Poet. 1457b3; σύνθετος ῥυθμός Pl. Rep. 400b; ἁρμονίαν εἶναι σύνθετον πρᾶγμα Pl. Phd. 92a; φωνὴ συνθέτη Arist. Poet. 1456b35, 1457a11; σύνθετα ὀνόματα Rhet. Alex. 1434b34, ἐπίθετα Arist. Rhet. 1406a16.

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his commentary to Plato’s Phaedrus Hermias explains that ὀρθοέπεια is in fact an “ordinary/literal expression” (τουτέστι, κυριολεξία), and then adds that Protagoras approached a speech (μετήρχετο ὁ Πρωταγόρας τὸν λόγον) by means of ordinary words (διὰ γὰρ τῶν κυρίων ὀνομάτων) and not through comparisons and epithets (οὐ διὰ παραβολῶν καὶ ἐπιθέτων)· διὰ γὰρ τῶν κυρίων ὀνομάτων μετήρχετο ὁ Πρωταγόρας τὸν λόγον καὶ οὐ διὰ παραβολῶν καὶ ἐπιθέτων, Herm. Pl. Phdr. p. 239.12). Hermias’ gloss κυριολεξία, stemming from the fourth century CE, seems to have been influenced by the later tradition. Still, it provides contours of sorts for a kind of early fifth century discussion on style and the correct use of literal and poetic meanings in words.³⁹ Wording and sentence structure were further examined by Hippias of Elis. His treatment of the meaning of words is said by Plato to have developed the connection between language and music, and rhythms (ῥυθμῶν) and scales (ἁρμονιῶν). Hippias also analysed the meaning of letters (γραμμάτων δυνάμεως), and syllables (συλλαβῶν, Pl. Hipp. Mai. 285d). Reform of the alphabet in 403 BCE provoked various reactions on the topic of letters, as seen below, and there are many attestations in contemporary literary texts of an interest in letters.⁴⁰ Hippias’ separation of the word into letters and syllables at this time should be considered an important part of the trends at the time. The sophist Prodicus, discussed above in the context of the ’correctness of names’, was repeatedly connected with the study of synonyms.⁴¹ The term ’synonym’ itself does not appear before Aristotle, but the topic is attested at least as early as Aristophanes’ Frogs, in which Prodicus is called upon as an expert in the criticism of the ’correctness’ in prologues (ἀκουστέα τῶν σῶν προλόγων τῆς ὀρθότητος τῶν ἐπῶν, Ar. Ra. 1180 – 81) when the use of synonyms is criticised.⁴² The semantic pairs ἥκω-κατέρχομαι, κλύειν-ἀκοῦσαι, εὐδαίμων-εὐτυχής are given, and the arguments such as ἥκω δὲ ταὐτόν ἐστι τῷ κατέρχομαι (“ἥκω and κατέρχομαι mean the same”, v. 1157) or κλύειν, ἀκοῦσαι, ταὐτὸν ὂν σαφέστατα (“κλύειν and ἀκοῦσαι also mean the same”, v. 1174) are provided as well.  On the early discussions of style, see O’Sullivan 1992, 106 – 150. Binary opposition of a simple versus a poetic and elevated style, best represented in the Frogs in the agon between Aeschylus and Euripides, need not be expected. This would be a simplification of literary and rhetorical debates on the uses of words in speech and in the literary text. However, these pebbles contribute to our understanding of fifth century BCE scholarly discourse. On Protagoras, see further Rademaker 2013, 100, f. 32 and Classen 1976, 224– 225.  See Rösler 2009, 437– 439 and below pp. 71– 77.  On Democritus’ possible interest in synonyms, see above pp. 51– 52. On Prodicus’ studies in synonyms, see Mayer 1913, Dupréel 1948, 180, Wolfsdorf 2011, Mayhew 2011, 24– 37, and 125 – 148, Grintser 2017b, 18 – 19.  See Radermacher 1914, 91– 94. On the notion ‘term’, see above p. 26.

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In Plato ’s Protagoras, Prodicus as protagonist of the dialogue is said to have been responsible for differentiating between apparent synonyms based on differences in their semantic load: “it is not the same, as this Prodicus here says, the εἶναι and the γενέσθαι” (ἔστιν δὲ οὐ ταὐτόν… ὥς φησιν Πρόδικος ὅδε, τὸ εἶναι καὶ τὸ γενέσθαι, Pl. Prot. 340c).⁴³ In Prodicus’ monologue, Plato introduces four couples of synonyms (κοινός and ἴσος, ἀμφισβητεῖν and ἐρίζειν, εὐδοκιμεῖν and ἐπαινεῖσθαι, εὐφραίνεσθαι and ἥδεσθαι) and explains the differences between them (Pl. Prot. 337a-c). Later, two additional couples of synonyms are introduced, this time through Socrates addressing Prodicus, βούλεσθαι / ἐπιθυμεῖν and εἶναι / γενέσθαι (Pl. Prot. 340a1– 8). In Plato’s Meno and Charmides further synonyms are mentioned, once again with reference to Prodicus, πέρας / ἔσχατον and πεπεράνθαι /τετελευτηκέναι (Pl. Men. 75e) and ποίησις / πρᾶξις (Pl. Charm. 163a-d). It is thus evident that although a ’special language’ was still lacking, discourses on synonyms were taking place, with some general designations concerning “the distinctions of words” as in Socrates’ exclamation: “I have heard a thousand times about the distinction of words from Prodicus!” (Προδίκου μυρία τινὰ ἀκήκοα περὶ ὀνομάτων διαιροῦντος, Pl. Charm. 163d). ’Distinctions’ may also refer to those of Licymnius and those of Protagoras.⁴⁴

2.5 Experiencing grammar Protagoras’ studies were part of a network of interactive intellectual discourses in Athens which connected various layers of literature and society. Thus, it is not only vocabulary, but content, such as a strict adherence to subdivisions in the use of gender and the endings of words, attributed by Aristotle to Protagoras in the passage discussed above, that are also referred by Aristophanes. In Clouds, Aristophanes notably poses a variety of linguistic issues, revealing an evident interest among his intended audience in the discussion of grammatical categories. From the outset, Socrates provides an experiential dimension to the discussion and thus his audience must follow his visual and auditory perception through the whole grammar-scene. He invites the clueless Strepsiades to learn which animals have a masculine gender. “But I do know the masculine ones

 See above p. 60.  On ‘distinction’ (διαίρεσις) as technical term, see Tsitsiridis 2001, 67– 68. See also Grintser 2017a, 371– 372.

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(οἶδ’ ἔγωγε τἄρρεν’)”, apologises Strepsiades, “if I’m not daft: ram, goat, bull, dog, rooster” (κριός, τράγος, ταῦρος, κύων, ἀλεκτρυών, Ar. Nu. 660 – 661). Despite Socrates’ emphasis on “the correct way” (ὀρθῶς), Strepsiades does not want any instruction on this count, and he immediately insists on counting the animal names. It is this last ἀλεκτρυών that Socrates picks up on, but not for the reasons the audience would expect, as the cock is not a quadruped. Rather ἀλεκτρυών can also refer to female animal, a hen.⁴⁵ Socrates then introduces further terms: “You call the feminine and the masculine the same thing ἀλεκτρυών/rooster” (τήν τε θήλειαν καλεῖς ἀλεκτρυόνα κατὰ ταὐτὸ καὶ τὸν ἄρρενα). How then should he call them, Strepsiades asks. And Socrates declares: ἀλεκτρύαινα/’hen’, and the other one ἀλέκτωρ/’rooster’ (ἀλεκτρύαιναν, τὸν δ’ ἕτερον ἀλέκτορα, Ar. Nu. 662– 666). Aside from introducing the other term θήλειαν for the “feminine” gender, Socrates presents several serious grammatical issues here. The principle presented is in keeping with tendencies in contemporary Attic Greek. Wackernagel lists such feminina, which exist in parallel to the older and original communia (θεός – θεά /θέαινα, σύνευνος – συνεύνα, χοίρος – χοίρα) in the language.⁴⁶ Socrates’ astonished pupil, on the other hand, is instructed not to use ἀλεκτρυών, but to use the invented word ἀλεκτρύαιναν for ’hen’ (666), as this is presented as the correct female form for a female animal. Furthermore, he is instructed not to use τὴν κάρδοπον for ’kneading-trough’, but τὴν καρδόπην, because a word cannot have a male ending if it is female (670 – 672). Finally, Socrates introduces a vivid discussion on the gender of (proper) names using a number of standard comedy jokes around masculinity versus passive homosexuality 680 – 699). Strepsiades is invited to list proper names and he starts with Athenian feminine names and then moves to masculine names Philoxenus, Melesias, and Amynias. Socrates’ reaction is preserved in the vein of onomasti komodein. He states that “these names are not masculine” (ταῦτά γ’ ἔστ’ οὐκ ἄρρενα, 687). The double entendre is at the heart of the humour. In the names Μελησίας and ᾿Aμυνίας the endings in the case-forms are indistinguishable from feminine endings, and thus Socrates’ statement is linguistically correct.⁴⁷ An audience that conceived of itself as sophisticated (or in the know) was supposed to have laughed at this grammatical double entendre.

 Dover 1968, 181– 182; Sommerstein 1982, 196; Olson 2021, 149. On the connection of this scene with Protagoras’ studies on grammatical gender, see Huitink and Willi 2021.  Wackernagel 1928, 2– 3.  Dover 1968, 184– 185; Sommerstein 1982, 197– 198.

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Aristophanes’ Clouds thus embodies critical abstractions with Strepsiades trying to make sense of Socrates’ language lessons by applying novel terms to farming, food and sex. Aristotle (Soph. El. 14, 173b) reveals that Protagoras was credited with the principle of the congruence of endings among gender forms. Just as words like μῆνις (’wrath’) and πήληξ (’helmet’) can only make sense as masculine, so too Socrates’ ἀλεκτρύαινα and καρδόπη, as inventions of the playwright, are indicative: both criteria ascribed to Protagoras’ studies are reflected upon, morphological consistency and natural gender consistency. But it is beyond doubt that the concept of gender distinction in nouns and the vocabulary of gender designations are discussed in the literary language in the last quarter of the fifth century BCE.

2.6 Carving letters, dancing letters As indicated in the introduction, the growing interest in writing attested in the second half of the fifth century BC found its embodiment on the Attic stage, among many other phenomena.⁴⁸ There was also a persistent interest in the shape and evolution of alphabetic writing and letter forms. The twenty-four Greek letters were notably a mixture of the local Attic and the East Ionic alphabet, which was increasingly preferred and was officially adopted for public use in Athens at the suggestion of Archinus in the archonship of Euclides in 403/2 BCE.⁴⁹ In Archinus’ memorandum written for this event, the combination of phonological and sensorimotor remarks stands out. Archinus commented on sounds in somatic detail in order to prove that the Ionic alphabet is apt to render Attic sound combinations. A sound is either pronounced towards the outside, he claimed, against the closing of the lips (ἔξω τι παρὰ τὴν μύσιν τῶν χειλῶν ἐκφωνεῖσθαι), like the π, and accordingly the ψ is produced at the end of the tongue (πρὸς τῷ ἄκρῳ γεννᾶσθαι τῆς γλώττης), as if it consisted of πσ. Or the tongue is placed in it breadth against the teeth (τῷ πλάτει τῆς γλώττης παρὰ τοὺς ὀδόντας), like the δ, and accordingly the ζ is generated in this place of the mouth (κατὰ ταύτην γεννᾶσθαι τὴν χώραν). Alternatively, Archinus continues, sound is produced whilst pressing the convex towards the rear of the mounth cavity (τῷ κυρτῷ πιεζομένῳ ἐκ τοῦ ἐσχάτου), like the κ, whence the ξ emerges.⁵⁰ This material description of the generation of sounds in the mouth aims at de See above, pp. 29 – 33.  Theopomp. Hist. 115, fr. 155 FGrHist; Olymp. Hist. 94.2; see more in Platthy 1968, 7; Pfeiffer 1968, 30; on the Homeric text in the Attic alphabet, see West 2001, 21– 23.  Syrian. Comm. Arist. Met. 191, 29 – 35 Kroll. See Rösler 2009, 437– 439.

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fending the reasons for the reform, with the audience physically experiencing the adaptation of the proposed letters. Callias might have incorporated this noteworthy event and the debates surrounding it into his Grammatikē tragōidia (or Grammatikē theōria).⁵¹ Here a chorus of twenty-four women perform as the new alphabet, dancing and singing on stage, a lesson concerning the pronunciation of new letters and witticisms based on letter-combinations embedded into the play (ὁ χορὸς δὲ γυναικῶν ἐκ τῶν σύνδυο πεποιημένος αὐτῷ ἐστιν ἔμμετρος ἅμα καὶ μεμελοπεποιημένος τόνδε τὸν τρόπον· βῆτα ἄλφα βα, βῆτα εἶ βε, βῆτα ἦτα βη, βῆτα ἰῶτα βι, βῆτα οὖ βο, βῆτα ὖ βυ, βῆτα ὦ βω).⁵² According to Athenaeus (the only source for this play) after the parodos Callias also introduced the speech which consisted mainly of vowels (εἰσάγει πάλιν ἐκ τῶν φωνηέντων ῥῆσιν, Athen. 10.453c). Our approach to this comedy is very far removed from that of the audience in the performance of the Callias. The information that we read in the Athenaeus version merely in a testimonium was presented on stage on a sensorimotor, visual and auditory level, with the shapes of the letters being perceived somatically by both the spectators and the performers.⁵³ As Svenbro pointed out: “The idea of such a play could arise only in the mind of someone to whom the grammata already seem autonomous and to whom their vocalisation no longer constitutes a necessary condition for their deciphering”.⁵⁴ Despite the persistence of debates on the chronology and genre of the play, as well as on its attribution to Callias,⁵⁵ the readiness of the audience to perceive and experience such jokes constitutes a clear marker of societal embodiment of writing and literacy.⁵⁶ Thus Aristophanes’ Babylonioi (427/6 BCE) might have presented the chorus members as identified with the twenty-four letters of the Ionic alphabet.⁵⁷ ’Letters’ had costumes, masks, they were moving,

 On Callias’ authorship of this play and the discussions about the plot, see Svenbro 1993, 183 – 186; Rosen 1999; Ruijgh 2001; Slater 2002; Smith 2003; Ceccarelli 2013a, 235 – 236; Gagné 2013; Bagordo 2014a, 129 – 132; Bassi 2016, 150 – 152.  Call. Com. test. *7 PCG; Ath. 7.276a, 10.448b, 10.453c-e; Clearch. fr. 89a Wehrli. On transvestism and maleness of the actors in the chorus of women in Greek (and Japanese) theatre, see Llewellyn-Jones 2005.  See Smith 2003, 328 and Bassi 2016, 151.  Svenbro 1993, 186.  Pöhlmann 1986, 55 – 57; Slater 2002, 126 – 129.  It should not be considered a coincidence that the words γραμματικός and ἀγράμματος, denoting knowledge or ignorance of the alphabet, appear for the first time at this time: Xen. Mem. 4.2.20; cf. ἀναλφάβητος Nicoch. fr. 5 PCG.  On the verse Σαμίων ὁ δῆμός ἐστιν· ὡς πολυγράμματος (fr. 71 PCG), see Orth 2017, 355 and 441– 445.

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singing, hearing. Sophocles in his satyr play Amphiaraus (date unknown) presented a male character dancing out the shapes of letters (τὰ γράμματα ὀρχούμενον, fr. 121 TrGF).⁵⁸ If we recall the predominant function of Classical drama as a dance performance, especially by the choruses, as well as the kinaesthetic power of the moving chorus to communicate emotions, the importance of dancing letters should not be underestimated. “A fluidity of movement between gestures and dance steps” penetrated the shared cognitive space between the author, the actors and the audience.⁵⁹ Dancing the shapes of letters, and sounding the designations of letters, expanded and extended them out into this cognitive space, emphasising the increasing power of writing. The contemporary discourse on letters and alphabet was thus played upon on Attic stage. In two fifth century BCE tragedians’ plays, Euripides’ Theseus and Agathon’s Telephus, an illiterate herdsman describes the shape of the letters making up the name ΘΗΣΕΥΣ written on an unknown object.⁶⁰ The tragedian Achaeus of Eretria refers in his satyr play Iris (fr. 19 TrGF) to an inscribed tablet. Further, in another Achaeus’ satyr play, Omphale, a satyr reads out individual letters inscribed on a cup (fr. 33 TrGF).⁶¹ In the Prometheus Bound, Prometheus lists his contributions to human progress, including “combinations of letters, which enable all things to be remembered.”⁶² Euripides has Palamedes claim to have created syllables and to have invented letters for reading and writing (Eur. fr. 578 TrGF). He also has Theseus praise written laws (Eur. Suppl. 433 – 437). In a fragment of his elegiac poetry, Critias has perceived the letters in an ambiguous way, as a “defending discourse” or a “defending against discourse”: Φοίνικες δ’ ηὗρον γράμματ’ ἀλεξίλογα (Crit. fr. 2, 9 IEG).⁶³ In the fourth century BCE speech of “Odysseus about Palamedes’ betrayal”, sometimes ascribed to the rhetorician Alcidamas, the invention of letters is attributed to the ur-poet Orpheus who learnt them from the Muses (2.122– 3).

 Soph. fr. 121 TrGF, Ath. 10.454 f.  Meineck 2018, 138.  Cf. Eur. fr. 382 TrGF, Agathon fr. 4 TrGF, Theodect. fr. 6 TrGF (4th century BCE), Ath. 10.454b-e; on intertextual relationship between these passages, see Slater 2002, 123 – 124.  Achae. fr. 33 TrGF, Ath. 11.466e-f; cf. ἀνταναγνῶναι (’to have read and compared’) in Cratin. fr. 289 PCG; cf. Alexand. Com. fr. 272 PCG.  [Aesch.] PV 460 – 461; cf. Gorg. DK82 B11a30. On Plato’s interpretation of Prometheus’ myth and its connection with the invention of language in the dialogue Protagoras, see Gera 2003, 127– 147.  Burzacchini 2018, 50 – 55.

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Aristophanes in Thesmophoriazusae represents the detailed process of the embodied and enacted scribal work (770 – 784). A character removes the wooden votive offerings (ταδὶ τἀγάλματ’) from the side of the altar, and physically begins to scratch at them with his knife.⁶⁴ Expressions such as πινάκων ξεστῶν δέλτοι (“writing-tablets made of smoothed boards”) and σμίλης ὁλκούς (“the tracks of a chisel”) testify to the use of the specific relevant vocabulary. σμίλη is a cuttingtool with a straight edge rather than a rounded one, and it must have resembled a chisel more than a knife. The character on stage probably carves his message on the plain reverse sides of the tablets. Aristophanes alludes to the physical form of the letter: the rounded shape of the “wretched” letter “rho” is hard to scratch (οἴμοι, τουτὶ τὸ ῥῶ μοχθηρόν). The character literally speaks to his tool. χώρει, χώρει is addressed to the σμίλη, which is at some point fastened firmly into the wooden tablet, but then slides, producing a long cut/furrow: ποίαν αὔλακα (“what a furrow!”). ἀλοκίζειν refers to scratching with a furrow on wax and αὖλαξ refers to a furrow drawn by the stylus/knife. Both describe the physical processes of the scribal act.⁶⁵ In Aristophanes’ scene, this act is experienced in a clear and vivid form, evoking physical strength, sight, and sound. The alphabet remained embedded in social discourses.⁶⁶ At a somewhat later date Antiphanes’ character Sappho is made to ask a riddle involving a female who bears children that are voiceless. The children can however converse with people at a distance. The correct answer is a letter (feminine ἡ ἐπιστολή) bearing γράμματα within it.⁶⁷ Letters as a significant part of fifth century BCE scientific discourse may have been depicted by Leucippus and Democritus, who allegedly posited an analogy between atoms/elements and the letters of the alphabet.⁶⁸ Democritus regarded the properties of atoms in combination as accounting for the multitude of differences among the objects in the world that appear to us. The letters of the alphabet can produce such a multitude of different words from a few elements in combination; the differences all stem from the shape (σχῆμα) of the letters, as A  See Austin-Olson 2004, 260 – 261; Ceccarelli 2013, 241– 242, and Novokhatko 2020a.  Cf. A.P. 6.68.1: αὔλακας ἰθυπόρων γραφίδων κύκλοισι χαράσσων (“scratching in circles the furrows of the straight-going writing tools”).  On learning letters cf. also Pl. Resp. 3.402b 5 – 7, cf. 368c 8 – 369a 4.  Antiph. fr. 194 PCG. See Konstantakos 2000, 161– 180.  On the distinction of the two early crucial designations for ‘letter’ – στοιχεῖον and γράμμα – see the thorough discussion in Burkert 1959, 170 – 179. στοιχεῖον is an elementary/principal alphabetic form whilst γράμμα is an actual form of connected writing. On the history of the comparison of atoms to letters and the relationship of writing with cosmology more generally, see Steiner 1994, 116 – 122. On diachronic metaphorical analogy of visible alphabetic script and the invisible world of atoms, see Raible 2016.

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differs from N; by their arrangement (τάξις), as AN differs from NA; and by their positional orientation (θέσις), as N differs from Z (DK67 A6 = D31 Laks-Most = Arist. Met. A 4.985b 10 – 22 and Arist. De gen. et corr. II 2.315b 6 – 15). These terms are in all probability Aristotle’s interpretation of Democritus’ (or Leucippus?) own terminology, which itself remains unclear.⁶⁹ The significant fact here is, however, that the letters of the alphabet must have been well-known, otherwise Democritus would not have used this analogy to clarify his argument. I conclude this section with another experiential – somatic – discussion of ’grammar’ and ’the art of grammar’ in a Hippocratic treatise from the late fifth century BCE. γραμματική refers to the knowledge of letters, and γραμματική was taught to children.⁷⁰ If the treatise On regimen does in fact belong to the late fifth century BCE, then it presents an early discussion of the art of grammar (γραμματική).⁷¹ Grammar, says the author, involves the putting together of vowels (σχημάτων σύνθεσις), signs of the human voice (σημήϊα φωνῆς ἀνθρωπίνης), the capacity to remember the past (δύναμις τὰ παροιχόμενα μνημονεῦσαι), and to make clear what it is that has to be done (τὰ ποιητέα δηλῶσαι). This knowledge comes through seven vowels (δι’ ἑπτὰ σχημάτων ἡ γνῶσις). They can be acquired, either through a broad education (“he who knows letters”) or without it (καὶ ὁ ἐπιστάμενος γράμματα καὶ ὁ μὴ ἐπιστάμενος). Through these seven vowels the senses are activated: human sense-perception (ἡ αἴσθησις ἡ ἀνθρώπων), the hearing of sounds (ἀκοὴ ψόφων), the vision of visible objects (ὄψις φανερῶν), the nose for smelling (ῥὶν ὀδμῆς), the tongue for pleasure and disgust (γλῶσσα ἡδονῆς καὶ ἀηδίης), the mouth for speaking (στόμα διαλέκτου), the body for touching hot and cold (σῶμα ψαύσιος θερμοῦ ἢ ψυχροῦ), the passages for breathing in and out (πνεύματος διέξοδοι ἔσω καὶ ἔξω). These figures/vowels constitute and embody human knowledge, the author concludes (Hipp. Vict. 1.23). The passage is striking for various reasons. ’Grammar’, literally ’the art of letters’, is described from a scientific and medical viewpoint, and thus is incorporated into the body-system.⁷² ‘Grammar’ seems to be used as one of many analogies for the natural physical processes at work in human growth and development. The bodily senses such as hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting and touching are perceived through vowels. Breathing is counted as a further sense. Just as

 See Ford 2002, 166; Mourelatos 2005; Verlinskij 2014. On the notion ‘term’, see above p. 26.  See above pp. 17– 21.  Craik 2015, 275: “A date in late fifth or early fourth century is probable”. On the treatise see Craik 2015, 266 – 276.  “The art of letters” is listed among various arts such as cooking, sculpture, pottery, carding wool, the processes of which are said to parallel bodily functions (Hipp. Vict. 12– 24). See Bartoš 2014 and Craik 2015, 267.

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seven vowels can communicate much to us, so the seven sense organs embody all that a person knows. Vowels are the most important of the letters (the seven vowels of Greek language being the ἑπτὰ σχημάτων), whilst the consonants (the remaining seventeen of the σχήματα) are not highlighted. And the vowels are considered the product of human voice (σημήϊα φωνῆς ἀνθρωπίνης): this being perhaps one of the earliest attestations of the term ’vowel’ as φωνῆεν γράμμα (Latin littera vocalis).⁷³ A further important remark is that vowels are a natural product that human beings know how to use (ταῦτα πάντα ἄνθρωπος διαπρήσσεται) independently of the level of their education (καὶ ὁ ἐπιστάμενος γράμματα καὶ ὁ μὴ ἐπιστάμενος). An elegant parallel can be drawn to Prometheus’ list in Prometheus Bound ([Aesch.] PV 460 – 1). Prometheus includes the letters among the many goods that he brought to humans. The ’putting together of vowels’ (σχημάτων σύνθεσις) in the Hippocratic treatise recalls the ’compositions of letters’ (γραμμάτων τε συνθέσεις) in the tragic text. The capacity of letters to preserve memory (δύναμις τὰ παροιχόμενα μνημονεῦσαι) recalls Prometheus’ ’memory of all things’ (μνήμην ἁπάντων). The connection between memory and writing has become cliche´ from Pindar and Aeschylus on, and so there is no need to argue that the author of the Hippocratic treatise is quoting or paraphrasing the Prometheus Bound. ⁷⁴ Rather the author of the treatise is appealing to discourses and facts wellknown to his audience, who would share this common knowledge with him. The last two criteria – the capacity of letters to preserve memory after the text has been written down (δύναμις τὰ παροιχόμενα μνημονεῦσαι) and the capacity of letters to indicate what has to be done (τὰ ποιητέα δηλῶσαι) – refer to all letters, vowels and consonants, though here in the treatise only vowels are referenced. The art of grammar is thus described in contemporary scientific prose as a physical process. The passage attests to the significant role scientific research played in the fifth century BCE as well as the interaction of fields of knowledge and their influence upon each other.⁷⁵ What is even more striking is that the attention to the senses and to the human or animal body is crucial in the classification of linguistic categories in both genres, Hippocratic treatise and Attic comedy. The medical treatment of

 Cf. Eur. Palamedes fr. 578 TrGF ἄφωνα φωνήεντα συλλαβὰς τιθεὶς and Plat. Crat. 393e τοῖς ἄλλοις φωνήεσί τε καὶ ἀφώνοις. On the interplay of sounds and written text and the Greek vocal literary culture in the context of aesthetic experience, see Butler 2015.  On the relation between writing and remembering, see Svenbro 1993, 180 – 182. See also above p. 15 f. 38.  See Vegetti 1983 and Jouanna 2012.

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grammar thus contributes to the audience’s perception of a materialised treatment of grammar in comedy also. Gender classification, verbal tenses, and classes of utterance constitute a part of the intellectual debates to which Attic comedy reacted, examples being the passages from Licymnius, Hippias and Prodicus discussed above. Recalling that “each production creates a microcosm in which actors and audience members participate in a reciprocal experience”, we can imagine that both the performers and the recipients experienced the processes of reading, writing and analysing the gender of names “in a reciprocal experience”.⁷⁶ A certain similarity in the experiential tools used to discuss grammar in bodily terms, based on somatic experience in both comedy and in a contemporary Hippocratic text, is also evident.

 Rokotnitz 2011, 11.

Chapter 3 Approaches to style A number of criteria for textual structure and stylistics were born from rhetoric. While the sophists engaged in linguistic and literary studies in Athens, they had to take their audience into account, even if this only consisted of the elite of Archaic Greek society. In the second half of the fifth century BCE, through their wandering and teaching of linguistic and literary studies, the sophists inspired an interest in language and text interpretation (Protagoras, Prodicus and Gorgias being the most obvious among them), an interest that increasingly extended beyond the boundaries of a small cultural elite. A paradigmatic example is the education of old poor Strepsiades, mocked in Aristophanes’ Clouds. ¹ By the end of the fifth century BCE, a multi-coloured palette of stylistic evaluative notions had been developed which in part modified Archaic patterns, in part addressed new coinages of the Sophistic age.² In this section I will examine discourses on style, their role in the construction of scholarly discourse, and the vocabulary of style. Most evaluative terms in literary criticism came in metaphors. In building a new vocabulary, metaphors were employed from other fields to illustrate concepts.³ Comedy works with and through somatic metaphors, as has been brilliantly demonstrated in the fifth chapter of Porter’s book on the materiality of aesthetic criteria.⁴ Here I will develop Porter’s thesis further in a spatial and en On the interest in poetry in fifth century Athenian society, see especially Ford 2002, 139 – 157 and Grintser 2017b. Apart from surviving works and fragments some titles (even if they were given at a later date) suggest activity in the critical area of poetics. The historiographer Hellanicus of Lesbos registered records of Spartan musical festivals of the Carnea in honour of Apollo and created a list of the victors in the Carnean games (῾Ελλάνικος ἱστορεῖ ἔν τε τοῖς ἐμμέτροις Καρνεονίκαις κἀν τοῖς καταλογάδην, FGrH 4 fr. 85a). See Amatori 2017. Cf. also Hippias DK86 B3 = D7 Laks-Most. Hellanicus’ pupil geographer and historian Damastes of Sigeum who made perhaps the first attempted to write a history of Greek literature in his lost work Περὶ ποιητῶν καὶ σοφιστῶν (Sud. D41). Glaucus of Rhegium wrote a work Περὶ τῶν ἀρχαίων ποιητῶν τε καὶ μουσικῶν, which dealt with the chronological and musical relation between lyric poets (Ps.-Plut. De Mus. 4, 1132e; 7, 1133 f; Ps.-Plut. Vit. X Orat. 833d). See Lanata 1963, 270 – 277 and Gostoli 2015.  Socrates in Pl. Phdr. 266d-267d mocked compound neologisms invented by the sophists. See Rotstein 2010, 333 – 341.  See above p. x. The bibliography on the metaphors used in the language of Ancient Greek literary criticism is abundant, starting as early as Van Hook 1905. For the use of metaphors in the language of poetics in Archaic and Classical authors, see more recently: Zanker 2019, 165 – 200 on Homeric epics, Pucci 1977 on Hesiod, Pelliccia 1995 on Homer and Pindar, Steiner 1986, Race 1990, Maslov 2015, and Worman 2015, 66 – 103 on Hesiod and Pindar, O’Sullivan 1992, O’Regan 1992, 49 – 66 on comedy (Clouds) and rhetoric, Conti Bizzarro 1999, Beta 2004, Wright 2012, 103 – 140, Worman 2015, 104– 145 on comedy.  Porter 2010, 261– 307 and further bibliography. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-006

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vironmental dimension, arguing for the significance of space in broad sense. Space here is taken to mean both any physical and non-physical location, and a dynamic interaction between the author and his environment.⁵ In this chapter I will propose that comic playwrights adopt the vocabulary from spheres of everyday Athenian life – the court, politics, social relations and gender issues – to convey their ideas to the audience. Metaphors from the natural and social environment reflect this process. For this study it is the use of metaphor in the scholarly discourse that concerns us.⁶ Several comic titles suggest literary debates as topics in their plots: Epicharmus’ Mousai, Aristophanes’ Poiēsis and Proagōn, Phrynichus’ Mousai, Cratinus’ Archilochoi, Telecleides’ Hesiodoi, Ameipsias’ Sapphō, Plato’s Skeuai and Poiētēs, Strattis’ Kinesias, Alcaeus’ Kōmōdotragōidia, Alexis’ Archilochos and Cleoboulinē, Nicostratus’ Hesiodos, Amphis’ Sappho, Antiphanes’ Poiēsis and Sapphō, Ephippus’ Sapphō, Timocles’ Sapphō and Diphilus’ Sapphō. This was also the case in other comic plays, even those without equivalent titles, such as Aristophanes’ Frogs and Gērytades, Pherecrates’ Kheirōn and Krapataloi. Comic playwrights made use of metaphorical evaluative terms which in some cases were to remain important criteria in later criticism.

3.1 Roundness The spatial geometric metaphor στρογγύλος dates at least to the last third of the fifth century BCE.⁷ It can already be seen in use in its ’rhetorical’ sense in Aristophanes’ Acharnians. Here, placed together with ‘words’ or ‘phrases’, it is used to describe the student’s activity in a sophistic school. The sophists’ teaching methods notably inspired Aristophanes to characterise the style of this student as follows (Ar. Ach. 685 – 688): a young man who hastened to accuse him “overwhelms him with his round phrases striking him quickly” (εἰς τάχος παίει ξυνάπτων στρογγύλοις τοῖς ῥήμασιν, v. 686) and then, dragging him up before the judge, he poses questions, laying traps. The passage is laden with metaphors. Στρογγύλος here is suggestive of working with wood.⁸ The spatial metaphor ξυ-

 On the notions of space and place, see Tuan 1977, Cresswell 2015. On spatial metaphors, see Horn 2016.  On metaphor as a crucial and powerful tool of comic technique, see Newiger 2000 (=1957); Taillardat 1965; Imperio 2004, 99 – 104; Jay-Robert 2009, 133 – 152; Kidd 2014, 52– 86; Zimmermann 2017.  On the history of the adjective στρογγύλος in Greek and Latin rhetoric, see Novokhatko 2010.  See Müller 1974b, 65. Cf. further Imperio 2004, 152; Mureddu & Nieddu 2000, 11.

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νάπτων alludes to a battle (like μάχην συνάπτειν), imagery that was a trend in contemporary rhetoric. Here however it denotes a compact manner of speech, as for example in Sophocles.⁹ Παίει recalls slingballs, stones or hailstones (cf. of a sling in Ar. Av. 1187).¹⁰ An interesting parallel to this passage is found in Plato’s comedy Lakones. Here Aristophanes’ phrase στρογγύλοις τοῖς ῥήμασιν meets a counterpoint: the bodily ’haptic’ metaphor γωνιαίου ῥήματος. A character claims: “When I need an angular word/phrase, I place myself beside him and wrench the stones” (ὅταν δέωμαι γωνιαίου ῥήματος͵ τούτῳ παριστῶ καὶ μοχλεύω τὰς πέτρας, Pl. com. fr. 69 PCG).¹¹ In all probability the style of a tragic poet is parodied here. Γωνιαῖος, usually used with λίθος, means a ’fundamental stone’ put at the base of the building. The “angular phrase” might however mean a “fundamental” or “heavy phrase”, a phrase that definitely does not roll, in contrast to its remarkable opposite, the rolling “round word”. The haptic, mobile, and spatial dimensions of both experiential metaphors are crucial here. The technique by comedians to use metaphors to describe rhetorical style has been commented on elsewhere.¹² Aristophanes claims that he made use of the ‘roundness’ of Euripides’ mouth: “for I use his round speech, but I create less vulgar ideas than he does” (χρῶμαι γὰρ αὐτοῦ τοῦ στόματος τῷ στρογγύλῳ͵ τοὺς νοῦς δ΄ ἀγοραίους ἧττον ἢ ΄κεῖνος ποιῶ, Ar. fr. 488 PCG). Τὸ στρογγύλον τοῦ στόματος could also mean physically the round open mouth on the tragic mask which the character wore on stage, but the syntagma should rather be understood as ‘roundness of the manner of speech’.¹³  Cf. Soph. El. 21 πρὶν οὖν τιν΄ ἀνδρῶν ἐξοδοιπορεῖν στέγης͵ ξυνάπτετον λόγοισιν, Hdt. 6.108; Aesch. Pers. 336. See also Taillardat 1965, 283, 469 – 470. See further Theopompus fr. 23 PCG: δεῖ γὰρ συνάπτειν τὸν λόγον. and Farmer’s translation “to abridge the story”. On the difference in the meanings of συνάπτειν, see Farmer 2022, 87. Cf. also Protagoras’ metaphor of wrestling in his title Καταβάλλοντες (λόγοι) and Billings 2021, 207– 208. The chorus of the clouds in Ar. Nu. 1126 – 1127 appeals to the judges, saying: ἢν δὲ πλινθεύοντ΄ ἴδωμεν͵ ὕσομεν καὶ τοῦ τέγους / τὸν κέραμον αὐτοῦ χαλάζαις στρογγύλαις συντρίψομεν. In Tzetzes’ commentary ‘hailstones’ is explained as ‘discussion’ and ‘audacity’, perhaps a parallel to our ‘well-rounded words’: χαλάζαις] διαλέξεσι͵ ὑβρίσεσι. (Jo. Tzetzae Commentarii in Aristophanem, II. Commentarium in Nubes, ed. by D. Holwerda, Groningen 1960, 636.)  Cf. ‘round hailstones’ in Ar. Nu. 1127. See Taillardat 1965, 283.  For a detailed commentary to this fragment, see Pirrotta 2009, 164– 167. See also Wright 2012, 118.  Taillardat creates a list of Aristophanes’ metaphors in Frogs with parallel terms from rhetoric as known in Aristotle, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, etc. Cf. Taillardat 1965, 467– 470, 496 – 498. See also Murphy 1938, 72 ff.  This is the reason why I would quibble with a translation of [Demetr.] Eloc. 20 by D. C. Innes, where δεόμενον στρογγύλου στόματος καὶ χειρὸς συμπεριαγομένης τῷ ῥυθμῷ is translated as ‘…it

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But why was this ‘roundness’ useful as an orientational concept? Aristophanes’ treatment of Euripides in Frogs (vv. 830 – 1478) provides an answer. Certain features of Euripides’ style are portrayed in Aristophanes as exhibiting a quality of ‘roundness’. Aeschylus’ heavy language and his fondness for long compounds are ridiculed by Euripides (cf. v. 837 and cf. above v. 824). He is described as κομποφακελορρήμονα, ‘pomp-bundle-worded’ (in v. 839), very much in contrast to the ’thinness’ of Euripides.¹⁴ He is further described as ἀπεριλάλητος͵ ‘without skill in circumlocution’, as put in 9LSJ. Περιλαλεῖν due to its prefix suggests a certain ‘roundness’ itself. Aeschylus clearly does not possess this roundness whereas Euripides does.¹⁵ The quantity of alpha privativum is striking as well (ἔχοντ’ ἀχάλινον ἀκρατὲς ἀπύλωτον στόμα, ἀπεριλάλητον, vv. 838 – 839), emphasising the “obstacles” to rolling and Aeschylus’ general inability to cope with such a wide variety of activities.¹⁶

needs a well-rounded mouth and hand gestures to follow each movement of the rhythm’. I prefer the older interpretation in W. R. Roberts: ‘it needs an ample utterance and a gesture which corresponds to the movements of the rhythm’. Στρογγύλον στόμα seems to mean ‘smooth, uninterrupted utterance’ in this context. Cf. Cratin. fr. 342 PCG: εὐριπιδαριστοφανίζων. See O’Sullivan 1992, 137; Schwinge 2002, 16 ff.; Silk 2000, 416 f.; Conti Bizzarro 1999, 92 f. Already in the fifth century BCE στόμα signified ‘manner of speech’, cf. Beta 2004, 45 ff. In a fragment from Eupolis (fr. 413 PCG) εὖ ἔχειν στόμα probably meant the same as εὐφημεῖν. This was the explanation given by Photius (ε 29 Th.) and Suda (ε 3449 A.) εὖ ἔχειν στόμα, τὸ εὐφημεῖν· οὕτως Εὔπολις. Cf. Olson 2014, 179. In the Frogs 836– 839 Aristophanes depicts Euripides complaining about Aeschylus: ἐγᾦδα τοῦτον καὶ διέσκεμμαι πάλαι͵ / ἄνθρωπον ἀγριοποιόν͵ αὐθαδόστομον͵ / ἔχοντ΄ ἀχάλινον͵ ἀκρατές͵ ἀπύλωτον στόμα͵ /ἀπεριλάλητον͵ κομποφακελορρήμονα. Aὐθαδόστομος, ‘with a self-indulgent mouth’, or ‘presumptuous of speech’ renders στόμα less a word used to describe a person’s ‘mouth’ than their ‘style’. V. 838 is of peculiar interest: Aeschylus is described as having an ‘un-bridled’ (a frequent use, cf. Eur. Ba. 386, Plat. Leg. 701c, AP VII 1,1, 16, 223, etc.), an ‘un-able’, and an ‘un-bolted’ mouth, denoting a crude, limp and uncontrolled style. Cf. Sommerstein 1996, 229 f. Cf. also Crates’ characteristics ἀπὸ κραμβοτάτου στόματος μάττων ἀστειοτάτας ἐπινοίας in Ar. Eq. 539. Further, in Eur. Suppl. 869, Capaneus as described by Adrastus possesses an εὐπροσήγορον στόμα, which shows that στόμα here is an equivalent to λόγος; the same applies in Isocr. Dem. 20 and Theoc. 7, 37. In Hellenistic times στόμα metonymically included this broader meaning, as for example in Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ ‘the style of Lysias’ (Lys. 12): οὗτος μέντοι ὁ λόγος ὁ καὶ τοῖς ὀνόμασιν ἡρμηνεῦσθαι δοκῶν ἰσχυρῶς καὶ τοῖς ἐνθυμήμασιν εὑρῆσθαι περιττῶς καὶ ἄλλας πολλὰς ἀρετὰς ἔχων ἄχαρίς ἐστι καὶ πολλοῦ δεῖ τὸ Λυσιακὸν ἐπιφαίνειν στόμα.  See Sommerstein 1996, 228 f. Cf. Griffith 1977, 149 – 150 and Beta 2004, 133 – 135.  Cf. Ar. fr. 376 PCG, where περιλαλεῖν refers to Euripides’ tragedies: Εὐριπίδης δ΄ ὁ τὰς τραγῳδίας ποιῶν / τὰς περιλαλούσας οὗτός ἐστι τὰς σοφάς. On Euripides in Aristophanes, see generally Farmer 2017, 155 – 194.  On the frequent use of alpha-privativum adjectives in Euripides compared to Aeschylus and Sophocles, see Ruch 2021, 171. So this could be an additional level of mockery of Euripides’ style here.

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Furthermore, Aristophanes continues to bombard us with experiential metaphors. From the very beginning of the agon, the chorus of initiates presents Euripides as talking in an “elegant and filed-down” way (τὸν μὲν ἀστεῖόν τι λέξειν καὶ κατερρινημένον, v. 901– 902), in contrast to Aeschylus (Ar. Ra. 900 – 906). Simple, polished language is thus characteristic of Euripides.¹⁷ Euripides then proceeds to attack Aeschylus (Ar. Ra. 923 – 926). Features such as the “twelve words the size of oxen with crest and brows” (ῥήματ΄ ἂν βόεια δώδεκ΄ εἶπεν͵ ὀφρῦς ἔχοντα καὶ λόφους, vv. 924– 925) are considered by Aristotle to be excessively “poetic” for prose style; they are easily recognisable in the “severe” (αὐστηρά) style described in Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ treatise On the Arrangement of Words or in the “grand” style (μεγαλοπρεπής) described in the treatise On Style. ¹⁸ One of the main characteristics of this style is a lack of clarity (σαφήνεια). And this is exactly Euripides’ line of attack against Aeschylus: “and he would not say any single clear word” (σαφὲς δ΄ ἂν εἶπεν οὐδὲ ἕν, Ar. Ra. 927) or “for he was unclear in the presentation of his situations” (ἀσαφὴς γὰρ ἦν ἐν τῇ φράσει τῶν πραγμάτων, Ar. Ra. 1122). Dionysus too accepts the difference between the two writers. As the god sums up: “for the one has spoken wisely, whilst the other clearly” (ὁ μὲν σοφῶς γὰρ εἶπεν͵ ὁ δ΄ ἕτερος σαφῶς, Ar. Ra. 1434).¹⁹ Euripides proceeds, claiming that he inherited this art from Aeschylus (παρέλαβον τὴν τέχνην παρὰ σοῦ) but reduced its bulge (οἰδοῦσαν ὑπὸ κομπασμάτων καὶ ῥημάτων ἐπαχθῶν͵ ἴσχνανα μὲν πρώτιστον αὐτὴν καὶ τὸ βάρος ἀφεῖλον), rendering it “thin” (ἴσχνανα); ἰσχνός is the name of one of four styles as described in the treatise On Style (Ar. Ra. 939 – 942).²⁰ Not only is Aeschylus’ language overweight but it is unhealthy: the curative drinks Euripides applies are described in images and vocabulary suggesting Hippocratic regimen.²¹ Euripides boasts that he had introduced “subtle rules and squarings-off of verses” (λεπτῶν τε κανόνων εἰσβολὰς ἐπῶν τε γωνιασμούς, v. 956), teaching peo-

 For κατερρινημένον cf. Antyll. ap. Stob. IV 37,16; Phot. α 2993 Th.; Scholia in Aristophanem, III/1b. In Ranas, Groningen 2001, 160 f.  Arist. Rh. 1404a 26, b4, 7, 1406a 32, Poet. 22, 1458b5 – 1459a14; Dion. Hal. Comp. verb. 22; Eloc. 36, 66, 77, etc. See also O’Sullivan 1992, 7– 14.  See Dover 1993, 19; 372. Cf. Arist. Poet. 1458a18 – 26. On Aristotle’s poetics of ‘clarity’, see Struck 2004, 63 – 68.  Eloc. 36, 190, etc. Dionysius of Halicarnassus however calls Euripides’ style γλαφυρά (‘hollow’, ‘polished’) as opposed to the αὐστηρά which describes Aeschylus’ styles (Dion. Hal. Comp. Verb. 23). See also Quadlbauer 1958, 74 ff. and Hunter 2009, 16. On this passage and ‘embodied’ tragedies in Dio Chrysostom (19.5), see Hanink 2017, 28.  Taillardat 1965, 452– 453, Dover 1993, 310; Sommerstein 1996, 239. See also O’Sullivan 1992, 7– 16.

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ple to perceive, to see, and to think around everything (vv. 957– 958). While it is the principles of poetry that are described, the description here is taken from the social environment and particularly the language of geometrical drawing.²² Περινοεῖν, ‘to think around’, is another word that due to its prefix recalls the metaphorical concept of στρογγύλος. Euripides is thus deliberately classed among the sophists.²³ In these verses Aristophanes makes the same accusations against Euripides as were made by Plato’s Socrates against the sophistic educational system, in particular that students emerged well-trained in rhetoric, but remained useless chatterers in all other respects. In the text, however, Euripides posits the virtues of linguistic thinness (v. 941) as contrasted with the meanderings of Aeschylus’ gargantuan words. Oft-repeated λεπτός and its relatives bring home the message that, for Euripides, the slender and the precise are beautiful (vv. 828, 876, 956, 1108, 1111).²⁴ Euripides’ precision is thus contrasted with the lack of σαφήνεια in the bombastic Aeschylus (vv. 1154 ff.). Whereas the former harnessed words from ordinary life, the latter shunned them (v. 1058). According to O’Sullivan, this is connected to the decline of the genre of tragedy and also to the Socratic distaste for poetry more generally (vv. 1491 ff.).²⁵ Aristophanes may have expressed a distaste for Euripides, but he avails himself of Euripides’ rhetorical methods, and in particular the ‘roundness’ of Euripides’ ‘mouth’ or ‘style’.²⁶ Some features of Euripides’ style are, according to Aristophanes, “polished”, “subtle” and “clear”; all these features of a ’thin’ style are also those explained and elaborated upon by the author of the treatise On Style. The author argues that the ’thin’ style (τοῦ ἰσχνοῦ χαρακτῆρος) is characterised through simple subjects, and the diction (τὴν δὲ λέξιν) should be normal and familiar (κυρίαν καὶ συνήθη). The unfamiliar and metaphorical diction (ἀσύνηθες καὶ μετενηνεγμένον) belong to the ’grand’ style (μεγαλοπρεπές). Diction in the ’thin’ style should above all be clear (μάλιστα δὲ σαφῆ χρὴ τὴν λέξιν εἶναι, Eloc. 190 – 191). Our understanding of metaphors around “round mouths” is further clarified when “round” is experientially contrasted with “sharp mouth”, the latter being a familiar phrase appearing in both Pindar and Sophocles.²⁷ This ‘sharp mouth’ is

 Cf. Ar. Ra. 799 – 801. See also Sommerstein 1996, 240.  See Paulsen 2000, 78; Schwinge 2002, 14 f. See also Conacher 1998.  On the word λεπτός, see Denniston 1927, 119; Taillardat 1965, 294– 296. See also Reitzenstein 1931, 27 ff. and Willi 2003, 88, 93. On Euripides’ ‘subtleness’, see also Fries 2020, 247– 248.  O’Sullivan 1992, 9.  Cf. Zimmermann 1997a.  Pind. Pyth. 1.86: ἀψευδεῖ δὲ πρὸς ἄκμονι χάλκευε γλῶσσαν, Soph. OC 794– 795: στόμα πολλὴν ἔχον στόμωσιν. Cf. Soph. Ai. 651, Eur. IT 287. See also Müller 1974a, 30 f.

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mocked by Aristophanes in a grotesque depiction in the Clouds. Here the mouth (which can also mean the edge of a weapon) is sharpened like a sword from both sides: “sharpen him well (εὖ μοι στομώσεις αὐτόν), with one side for small lawcases, and the other side of his jaws sharpen for more important issues” (τὴν δ΄ ἑτέραν αὐτοῦ γνάθον στόμωσον οἵαν εἰς τὰ μείζω πράγματα, vv. 1107– 1110). Like Sophocles, Aristophanes plays here with the words στόμα (meaning both ‘mouth’ and ‘point’ or ‘edge’) and στόμωσις for ‘hardness of tongue’.²⁸ The spatial correspondence between ‘clarity of speaking’ and ‘roundness’ continues to appear in a number of Classical texts. We note Socrates’ comment on Lysias’ style as reported in Plato’s Phaedrus, that every word in his speeches is clear, round and precisely chiselled (ὅτι σαφῆ καὶ στρογγύλα͵ καὶ ἀκριβῶς ἕκαστα τῶν ὀνομάτων ἀποτετόρνευται, Pl. Phdr. 234e).²⁹ The passage from Phaedrus also seems to refer to an environmental metaphor, that words become round because they are compressed on a lathe (ἀποτορνεύονται). The metaphor comes from wood-working, a familiar area for Aristophanes’ audience. In fact, in the Thesmophoriazusae Aristophanes employed precisely this metaphorical domain to describe the poetic activity of the tragic poet Agathon, who bends new timbers of verses, partially turning them, partially joining them together, coining ideas, giving new names, and he melts wax, rounds and funnels (καὶ κηροχυτεῖ καὶ γογγύλλει καὶ χοανεύει, vv. 53 – 57).³⁰ Agathon’s poetic activity is described here in environmental figurative language taken from shipbuilding (vv. 52 f.), carpentry (v. 54) and metalwork (vv. 56 f.). Into this language are incongruously inserted two quite ordinary verbs of literary process (v. 55)³¹. The mockery is even  Dover 1968, 229; Sommerstein 1982, 215; Olson 2021, 200.  Plutarch later refers to exactly this passage: Plut. Rat. aud. 45a. On Plato’s statement, see De Vries 1969, 7 ff. and Yunis 2011, 106. Cf. O’Sullivan 1992, 46 and 139 that four of Socrates’ criteria refer to stylistic qualities of clarity, roundness, precision and fineness.  Cf. Taillardat 1965, 442– 443; Müller 1974a, 34f.; Müller 1974b, 69 f., 167 f. Cf. also Morenilla-Talens 1988, 161– 162, Ford 2002, 156, and Slater 2014, 310 – 311. On καμπή/’bending’ (v. 54: κάμπτει δὲ νέας ἁψῖδας ἐπῶν) as a fifth century BCE metaphor of modulation and the departure from harmonia and a crucial characteristic of ’new music’, see Restani 1983, West 1992, 355– 361, Franklin 2013, 226 – 231, and Ercoles 2017, 135– 138. Cf. also καμπύλον μέλος (Pind. fr. 107a, 3 Snell-Maehler), καὶ μουσικὴ πρᾶγμ’ ἐστὶ βαθύ τι καὶ καμπύλον (Eup. fr. 366 PCG), κυκλίων τε χορῶν ᾀσματοκάμπτας (Ar. Nu. 333), κάμψειέν τινα καμπήν (Ar. Nu. 969), δυσκολοκάμπτους (Ar. Nu. 971), κατακάμπτειν τὰς στροφὰς (Ar. Th. 68), σαρκασμοπιτυοκάμπται, (Ar. Ra. 966), ᾠδικὸν καὶ καμπτικόν (Ar. fr. 753 PCG), ἐξαρμονίους καμπὰς ποιῶν ἐν ταῖς στροφαῖς (Pherecr. fr. 155, 9), κάμπτων με καὶ στρέφων (Pherecr. fr. 155, 15), ἰωνοκάμπταν (Timoth. fr. 802, 3 PMG).  See Sommerstein 1994, 161. On Aristophanes’ use of artisanal terms, see O’Sullivan 1992, 140 – 141. Cf. Austin and Olson 2004, 70 ff. On the “explosion of craft metaphors for song” in Pindar and Bacchylides, see Ford 2002, 113 – 130. On Indo-European metaphors for poetry borrowed from building and weaving, see Schmitt 1967, 296 – 301.

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more striking than the extended metaphor itself. ‘Round’ and ‘polished’ words are led ad absurdum via the quantity and the condensed nature of the images.³² The rhetorical use of metaphors (’names instead of names’, κἀντονομάζει, v. 55) by the Sophists is also ridiculed in this passage³³. As in the passage from Plato quoted earlier, here too we find the intentional confusion of metaphorical meanings to describe language. γογγύλλει, ‘makes round’, is particularly interesting.³⁴ On the one hand this word is synonymous with στρογγυλίζειν, but it has no known rhetorical connotations whatsoever. With this extract in hand, we can imagine ourselves seated in the poet’s workshop, observing as he crafts metaphors, conjuring up new combinations of words; some like γογγύλλει set to disappear, still-born as it were,³⁵ while others, once created, acquired a life of their own, constantly re-formulated by writers to come. The ‘chiselling’ of words acquired such a life.³⁶ The term was used to describe rhetorical language after Aristophanes and Plato, both in Greek and Latin, especially during later Antiquity. The term could describe a sentence, a whole passage or a style. In Latin it could be used to describe verses.³⁷ The ‘chiselling’ of words to make them round was ‘a matter of technique’, as Brink put it.³⁸

 On rhetorical terms from the carpenter’s workshop as used by Greek authors and on Aristophanes’ mockery of them, see also Müller 1974a, 33 ff. On the notion ‘term’, see above p. 26.  See Rhys Roberts 1900, 47. Cf. also Chirico 1990, 102 ff.  Cf. Austin and Olson 2004, 72: “γογγύλος… must describe the most important step in the process between the making of the model and the pouring of the bronze, i. e. the ‘roundingout’ of the model to produce the mould”.  The use of γογγύλλω here (cf. συγγογγύλλω further in Ar. Th. 61 and Ar. Lys. 975) is in fact an Aristophanic comic disguise of στρογγύλλω. The effect is even funnier because of the wordplay γογγύλλω as ‘to make round’ with γογγυλίς as ‘turnip’ (cf. Ar. fr. 569, 6 PCG; Th. 1185, see Thesmophoriazusae by Austin-Olson 2004, 342 f.). Cf. Peppler 1921, 152 ff. This hypothesis can perhaps be strengthened by the only remaining fragment from Crates’ comedy Rhetores, where some Kephissian turnips play the main role: Κηφισιακαῖσι γογγυλίσιν ὅμοια πάνυ… (Crates fr. 30 PCG), cf. Bonanno 1972, 123, and Perrone 2019, 158 – 159.  On ‘chiselling’ blended with th experiential sensoric metaphor of eating, cf. rhetorical and philosophical argumentation mocked in Alexis’ comedy Tarantinoi: πυθαγορισμοὶ καὶ λόγοι / λεπτοὶ διεσμιλευμέναι τε φροντίδες / τρέφουσ’ ἐκείνους (“Pythagoreisms, subtle speeches, and chiselled thoughts nourish them”, fr. 223, 7– 9 PCG).  It is worth quoting a few examples: Dion. Hal. Dem. 43 τῶν δὲ περιόδων αἳ μέν εἰσιν εὐκόρυφοι καὶ στρογγύλαι ὥσπερ ἀπὸ τόρνου͵ αἳ δὲ ὕπτιαί τε καὶ κεχυμέναι καὶ οὐκ ἔχουσαι τὰς βάσεις περιττάς. Dionysius is one of the authors who ascribes particular importance to the term στρογγύλος. It connotes both the style of a passage and the manner of its construction (cf. Lys. 6, 9, 13; Isocr. 3,11; Is. 6, 20; Dem. 4, 13, 18, 19, 20, 24, Comp. verb. 7; Imit. 427; Pomp. 5,3). But here the use of the term is extended: ‘some of the periods are round’ is followed by ‘as if worked on by a lathe’, following on from the use of the term in Aristophanes and Plato: not just round, but polished roundness. Dionysius’ contemporaries Horace and Properce both use ‘chiselling’ to describe the creation of verses:

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Comedy thus embodied ‘roundness’ on stage. Functioning as an embodied metaphor, the term στρογγύλος was frequently used in later theoretical treatises to describe a certain style of language. Understood as a critical term, στρογγύλος could mean both ‘clear and elegant’ and ‘compact’, when used to describe literary style.³⁹ The whole range of associations invoked in the recipient’s mind by the description of the ‘chiselling’ of words, leading to their ’roundness’, come from their sensorimotor interactions with the social environment.

Hor. Ars 438 – 441 Quintilio siquid recitares, ’corrige sodes / hoc’ aiebat ’et hoc’. mulius te posse negares / bis terque expertum frustra: delere iubebat / et male tornatos incudi reddere versus. Prop. II 34,41– 44 desine et Aeschyleo componere verba coturno, / desine, et ad mollis membra resolve choros. / incipe iam angusto versus includere torno, / inque tuos ignes, dure poeta, veni. In Praise of Piso Piso is lauded among other things for his oratorical ability. Here his image-laden swiftly-formulated sentences are described as hastening to their audience, fresh from the lathe (excusso torno). In other words, though Piso composes at speed, his sentences emerge as if just polished, perfectly formed. Laus Pis. 93– 96 Qualis, io superi, qualis nitor oris amoenis / vocibus! hinc solido fulgore micantia verba / implevere locos, hinc exornata figuris / advolat excusso velox sententia torno. Cassius Longinus also used ‘round’ and ‘chiselled on a lathe’ as appropriate to λόγοι (Ars 561) τῆς δ΄ εὐρυθμίας τὸ γνώρισμα δῆλον τῷ συνειθισμένῳ τὸ τῶν εὐρύθμων καὶ ἀποτετορνευμένων καὶ στρογγύλων ἀποδέχεσθαι λόγων͵ καὶ τετριμμένῳ τὰ ὦτα πρὸς τὴν σύνθεσιν τῶν τε σεμνῶν καὶ ἀρχαίων λόγων͵ ὧν κατέλεξα τοὺς εὑρετὰς καὶ πρώτους φήναντας τὰ παραδείγματα τῆς καλλιλογίας. One century later the Emperor Julian in his panegyric to Constantius, claimed that Constantius, a workman of quality speeches, avoided the gloss and polish, the chiselled periods, of the more reified rhetoricians (Const. 77a) Ἐργάτης γάρ ἐστι καὶ τούτων ἀγαθός͵ οὐκ ἀποσμιλεύων οὐδὲ ἀπονυχίζων τὰ ῥήματα οὐδὲ ἀποτορνεύων τὰς περιόδους καθάπερ οἱ κομψοὶ ῥήτορες͵ σεμνὸς δὲ ἅμα καὶ καθαρὸς καὶ τοῖς ὀνόμασι ξὺν καιρῷ χρώμενος͵ ὥστε ἐνδύεσθαι ταῖς ψυχαῖς οὐ τῶν παιδείας καὶ ξυνέσεως μεταποιουμένων μόνον͵ ἀλλ΄ ἤδη καὶ τῶν ἰδιωτῶν ξυνιέναι πολλοὺς καὶ ἐπαΐειν τῶν ῥημάτων.  Cf. Brink 1971, 348.  E. g. Arist. Rh. 1394b; Herm. Inv. 4, 1; Anon. Rh. Fig. 3.111 chapter Περὶ στρογγύλου, cf. also Latin rotundus in Hor. Ars 323 – 326; Quint. Inst. 11, 3,102; Iuv. 6, 449. See more discussion in Novokhatko 2010. On ’stony words’ as a haptic metaphor in Dionysius of Halicarnassus, see Purves 2020. On the long-living ‘roundness’, cf. some contemporary prose such as Luca Goldoni’s Chiaro e tondo (Milan, Montadori 2007) and Clemens J. Setz’s Der Trost runder Dinge (Suhrkamp 2019). See finally Leuteris Xanthopoulos’ Small Supplicatory Canon (Athens 2018): Στρογγυλά να είναι τα λόγια ζεστά να καίνε σαν τα ψωμάκια που μόλις βγήκαν από το φούρνο Να αχνίζουν τα λόγια

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3.2 Pickle brine and the blind Another example of an environmental metaphor should support my argument of the role of comedy in the building of scholarly discourse. The Archaic binary opposition of blaming and praising and the contemporary context of competition probably both influenced Cratinus’ imagery in his comedy Archilochoi (of which 16 fragments survive).⁴⁰ A character in fr. 6 PCG poses a question, “did you see the Thasian pickle brine, how is it barking?” (εἶδες τὴν Θασίαν ἅλμην οἷ’ ἄττα βαΰζει;), and he continues, “Well and quickly and immediately he got his own back. It’s not, however, a blind man talking to a deaf one” (οὐ μέντοι παρὰ κωφὸν ὁ τυφλὸς ἔοικε λαλῆσαι). Though the meaning of the fragment, quoted by Athenaeus, is unclear, the alleged barking fish sauce from Thasos (τὴν Θασίαν ἅλμην) might serve as a metaphor for Archilochus, whilst the proverbial “blind man” (ὁ τυφλὸς) might stand for Homer.⁴¹ The incongruous “barking brine” conveys to the viewer the dramatised experience of poetic metaphor in a powerful and affective way.⁴² The angry dog is blended with a salted brine, animal behaviour being blended with taste sensations and even literary criticism. The comic playwright provokes sensory receptivity simultaneously to create a poetic or poetological image. The range of visual (εἶδες, τυφλὸς), auditory (βαΰζει, κωφὸν, λαλῆσαι), somatosensory (two men being discussed), olfactory (ἅλμην), and gustatory (ἅλμην) perceptual details provoke bodily reaction as well as direct the audience’ attention to the juxtaposition of two characters who might personify two poetic genres. Understanding the meaning of the whole passage proceeds by way of grasping the images, which correspond to the meaning of the individual blocks the passage is composed of.⁴³ In fact ἅλμη with its sensoric connotations is probably used in Aristophanes’ Holkades (423 BCE) in a similar context of invective, where a character excla-

 For early Greek observations on poetry and the opposition of blaming and praising, see Sikes 1931, 1– 27; Lanata 1963; Grube 1965, 1– 12; Nagy 1989; Goldhill 1991, 1– 166. See also Hunter 2015 and Nünlist 2015.  Cf. Athen. 4.164d. On these three hexameters interpreted as the sphragis of the agon, see Pretagostini 1982, 45 – 47 and Bianchi 2016, 66 – 67. On Homer’s proverbial blindness in Archaic and Classical time, see Graziosi 2002, 125 – 163. On the fragment see Bianchi 2016, 13 – 20, a discussion of the play in general with detailed bibliography, and then 62– 71 on the fragment. See also Bakola 2010, 70 – 73, and Perrone 2020, 352– 356. On the enactivist reading of this fragment with a focus on Cratinus’ Archilochean self-portrait, see Telò 2013, 65.  Cf. Odysseus’ “barking heart” (κραδίη δέ οἱ ἔνδον ὑλάκτει, Od. 20, 13) and an extensive discussion of the metaphor at Cairns 2018/2019, 25 – 28. On the popularity of the dog metaphor in Athenian political discourse, see Konstantakos 2021, 240 – 243.  See Lakoff 1987, 293.

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mates: “O poor one who was first doused in anchovy-brine!” (ὦ κακοδαίμων ὅστις ἐν ἅλμῃ πρῶτον τριχίδων ἀπεβάφθη, fr. 426 PCG).⁴⁴ Concerning the brine and the blind in Cratinus’ fragment, we have an earlier example of parallel juxtaposing genres, building the same generic similarities in experiential terms. This is how I believe Heraclitus DK22 B42 (= D21 Laks-Most) should be read, as it is the earliest evidence for a crucial aspect in early literary criticism: the juxtaposition of epic and iambic genres, metonymically represented by the names of Homer and Archilochus. Heraclitus’ criticism of poetry is seen elsewhere in his references to Homer,⁴⁵ but the two poets together are referred to in an enigmatic account by Diogenes Laertius. According to Diogenes, Heraclitus probably claimed that Homer deserved to be expelled (ἐκβάλλεσθαι) from the rhapsodic competitions (ἐκ τῶν ἀγώνων) and beaten (ῥαπίζεσθαι), and so too Archilochus (καὶ ᾿Aρχίλοχον ὁμοίως, DK22 B42 = Diog. Laert. 9.1). Donald Lavigne’s view that Heraclitus used “the two poets in tandem, perhaps as an image of the full range of rhapsodic performance” is convincing.⁴⁶ The verb ῥαπίζεσθαι hinting at rhapsodic competition seems to refer to a terminus used for disqualification and punishment of athletes who had broken the rules at competitions with a beating with the rhabdos. Herodotus quotes this verb in a formulaic way: when a Corinthian general stated to Themistocles that “at the games those who start before the signal are thrashed/beaten with rods” (ἐν τοῖσι ἀγῶσι οἱ προεξανιστάμενοι ῥαπίζονται), Themistocles justified himself, “those left behind win no crown” (Οἱ δέ γε ἐγκαταλειπόμενοι οὐ στεφανοῦνται, Hdt. 8.59). The rod/rhabdos was a defining attribute of the rhapsode as a performer.⁴⁷ The performative rhapsodic allusions to both Homer and Archilochus might have been supported by the word-pun ῥαπίζεσθαι, alluding to ῥαψῴδεσθαι (“to be recited by a rhapsode”) in Heraclitus.⁴⁸ The names of Homer and Archilochus might serve as personified metonymies for Heraclitus’ opposites, or for recited

 See Kassel-Austin ad loc. and Torchio 2021, 128 – 130.  For more on the criticism of Homer, see Heracl. fr. 36a-c Lebedev and Heracl. fr. 28b3, b5, b6 Marcovich (not in DK), Lebedev 2014, 156 – 157. The same verb “to censure” (μέμφεται) as in Stesichorus’ assessment of the Homeric and Hesiodic texts is used to describe Heraclitus’ criticism.  Lavigne 2016, 86; cf. Collins 2004, 152– 153. On a recent discussion of this fragment, see also Loscalzo 2017.  Lavigne 2016, 86 with further bibliography.  Laks-Most 2016b, 147. Halliwell 2008, 347, n. 31 is sceptical about this interpretation.

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epic and iambic/elegiac genres, as in Cratinus’ Archilochoi fr. 6 PCG where both Homer and Archilochus may have been alluded to.⁴⁹ Without delving in further, it should be noted that it is not at all by chance that Heraclitus placed Homer alongside Archilochus. Archilochus was known in Greece as a multi-layered and contradictory persona: both a warrior poet and a critic of the old martial values; an iambic poet writing ἐν ἰάμβῳ τριμέτρῳ on the one hand and an elegiac poet writing ἐν ἐλεγείοις on the other; both a disparaging poet (ψογερός), as described by Pindar in comparison to the epic Homer, and a narrative poet, mentioned alongside Homer and Hesiod in Plato’s Ion. The rhapsode Ion is presented as an expert in Homer alone (περὶ Ὁμήρου μόνον δεινὸς) but knowing other poets, Hesiod and Archilochus (περὶ Ἡσιόδου καὶ ᾿Aρχιλόχου), as well (Pl. Ion 531a). Socrates states later in the text that Homer and other poets such as Hesiod and Archilochus (τοὺς ἄλλους ποιητάς, ἐν οἷς καὶ Ἡσίοδος καὶ ᾿Aρχίλοχός ἐστιν) speak about the same subjects but not in the same manner (ἀλλ’ οὐχ ὁμοίως, Pl. Ion 532a).⁵⁰ Socrates’ discussion of the rhapsode Ion presupposes and evaluates certain performative skills and also a distinction between various genres: the juxtaposed genres of heroic epic, didactic epic and iambs on the level of performative content (περί γε τῶν αὐτῶν λέγειν, ἀλλ’ οὐχ ὁμοίως). Heraclitus’ critical collocation of Homer and Archilochus thus contributes to our scarce information on the context of generic literary discourses and epic and iambic performances of the early fifth century BCE.⁵¹ It would thus seem that Cratinus’ Archilochoi had in some ways been concerned with the poetic genre. If Cratinus’ model of two competing poets works according to the model of the early version of the Certamen, a model which may well have been developed later in Aristophanes’ Frogs, the contest should happen within the framework of one genre: two epic poets competing in the Certamen, and two tragic poets competing in the Frogs. In the old Certamen it was traditionally Homer against Hesiod, as epic poet against epic poet, whilst Aristophanes used the model for his favourite target, tragedy, and made Aeschylus compete against Euripides as tragic poet against tragic poet. Cratinus however adapted the pattern to ‘genre against genre’, Homer competing against Archilo-

 See Dover 1987. On Homer and Archilochus as representatives of two genres of praising and blaming, see Nagy 1999, 213 – 278.  Cf. Bowie 2001a, 51– 52.  On the third century BCE Hibeh papyrus fragment (Pap. Hibeh II. 173) containing the direct comparison of the poetry of Homer and Archilochus as well as its hypothetical connection to Heraclides’ books Περὶ ᾿Aρχιλόχου καὶ Ὁμήρου, also perhaps influenced by a rhapsodic tradition, see the discussion in Lavigne 2016, 92– 95.

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chus as ‘epic against iambic’.⁵² Many scholars have speculated on the possibility that a contest between Archilochian and epic poetry was dramatised in this play, perhaps represented by two half-choroi, the supporters of Homer (and perhaps Hesiod) against the supporters of Archilochus.⁵³ The theoretical ’classification’ of genres is attested some decades later in texts such as the list of prose topics of Isocrates or the detailed discussion of poetic genres in Plato and Aristotle.⁵⁴ However, as with Pindar’s list of melic genres in fr. 128c S-M, Cratinus’ verses (mostly belonging to the play titled “Archilochus and his followers”) can attest to contemporary concern about generic juxtapositions, and an experientiality of the agon of the two main genre representatives: a barking pickle fish brine and a blind man.

3.3 Solemnity A further stylistic criterion centred on the evaluative word σεμνός (“solemn”). In fragment 28 PCG (Paidiai) Crates employs σεμνός in a tragic plot:⁵⁵ a character (perhaps the chorus-leader) states τοῖς δὲ τραγῳδοῖς ἕτερος σεμνὸς πᾶσιν λόγος ἄλλος ὅδ’ ἔστιν (“[However] all the tragic performers have a diverse solemn plot, this is different”). The adjective is a standard characterisation of divine nature in epic poetry, referring either to the gods themselves or to their names, lives and attributes. Pindar in his Nemean 7 employs it to refer to Homer’s inflation of Odysseus’ heroism: “something solemn is in his lies and his lofty skill” (ψεύδεσί οἱ ποτανᾷ τε μαχανᾷ σεμνὸν ἔπεστί τι, Pind. Ne. 7.22– 23). According to Pindar, Homer’s poetry is laudable, but its aesthetic quality distracts the audience from the truth. In presenting Odysseus in a manner disproportionate to his experiences, Homer’s poetry fails in its reflective duty. Pindar’s criticism of Homer’s epic in terms of rhetoric (λόγον, ἁδυεπῆ, v. 21) points to the disparity between the verbal account and truth in Homer’s poetry.⁵⁶

 On the deliberate juxtaposition of lyric poetry and comedy in Ar. Eccl. 877– 1048, see Vetta 1981. See also Di Virgilio 2021.  Bianchi 2016, 13 – 18. On the literary context of literary competition and the early Certamen, see Richardson 1981 and Bassino 2019; on the early competitive poetics, see Biles 2011, 22– 27. On the relation of the Certamen with the agon in Aristophanes’ Frogs, see Rosen 2004. See also Ruffell 2002.  See the discussion below pp. 115 – 122.  See Farmer 2017, 28, and Perrone 2019, 150 – 153. On the obscurity of the term λόγος here, see Farmer 2017, 28 n. 49 with further bibliography.  See the detailed analysis in Park 2013, 32– 33.

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The common word σεμνός thus makes a metaphorical move from the realm of divinity to that of rhetoric through the divine figure of Homer. Crates’ contemporary Herodotus used σεμνός to describe Onomacritus, the compiler of oracles who had been banished from Athens by Peisistratus’ son Hipparchus. Onomacritus had been caught by Lasus of Hermione interpolating other texts into the oracles of Musaeus. Banished as a result, he arrived at Susa with Peisistratus’ people, who used solemn words about him (λεγόντων τῶν Πεισιστρατιδέων περὶ αὐτοῦ σεμνοὺς λόγους, Hdt. 7.6.4) and he recited from his oracles. Although referring to a figure with divine connotations, the ’solemn words’ refer to a chresmologue who was not in fact divine. This use suggests a path of transition to the use of ’solemn words’ to describe the words of an intellectual human. As an elevated epithet, σεμνός found its place in the vocabulary of criticism either as a ’solemn plot/content’ of tragedy or a ’solemn speech’ of a chresmologue. The adjective σεμνός as well as the verbs σεμνύνειν and ἀποσεμνύνειν constitute one of the significant lemmata in Aristophanes’ Frogs, revealing the aesthetic and critical aspects of the evaluative act. σεμνός occurs on several occasions in the Frogs in its non-metaphorical sense, but again has a highlighting function as a marked lemma in the play. At the very beginning of the play either Dionysus or Xanthias (the manuscript traditions differ here) comments on the arrogant behaviour of a corpse: “how solemn (about himself) the accursed one is!” (ὡς σεμνὸς ὁ κατάρατος, Ar. Ra. 178). Aeschylus states that half-gods wear much more solemn (πολὺ σεμνοτέροισιν) clothes than mortals, thus using the adjective in its original epic sense (Ar. Ra. 1061). The lemma is used to characterise the tragic diction of Aeschylus, mimicked in Crates’ vein by the chorus-leader: “you, who as the first of the Greeks towered solemn words” (ὦ πρῶτος τῶν Ἑλλήνων πυργώσας ῥήματα σεμνὰ, Ar. Ra. 1004).⁵⁷ At the culmination of this chorus scene, the chorus turns the syntagma ’solemn words’ upside down and uses it ironically, so that ’solemn speech’ becomes ’pretentious speech’. Euripides’ diction is implied, albeit ironically: “so it is pleasant not to sit beside Socrates babbling… ignoring the most significant part of tragic craft. Pretentious content/speeches (ἐπὶ σεμνοῖσιν λόγοισι)… make a madman” (Ar. Ra. 1491– 1499).⁵⁸ In a self-referential aside by the chorus, the verb ἀποσεμνύνειν is employed: “we will give ourselves solemn airs” (κἀποσεμνυνούμεθα, Ar. Ra. 703). Euripides characterises the art of Aeschylus thus: “he will give himself solemn airs at the beginning (ἀποσεμνυνεῖται πρῶτον),

 On the size of Aeschylus’ ’towered’ words, see Porter 2010, 272. See also Billings 2021, 202.  Cf. similar use in Callias’ Pedētai fr. 15 PCG and Lys. fr. 1,2. In both cases Socrates is mocked for teaching and talking pretentiously. See Dover 1993, 21 and Bagordo 2014a, 172– 173.

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the airs he always used to do in his tragedies” (ἅπερ ἑκάστοτε ἐν ταῖς τραγῳδίαισιν ἐτερατεύετο, Ar. Ra. 833 – 834). Remarkably, the second verse here explains the meaning of the first, thus the verb ἀποσεμνύνειν is here characteristic (ἅπερ ἑκάστοτε) of Aeschylus’ art in composing tragedies. The double meaning of the lemma, direct and metaphorical, is clearly present in this statement.⁵⁹ The verb σεμνύνειν seems generally to have expanded its meanings in a similar way. It characterises Aeschylus’ style in the Frogs and is thus used metonymically for the tragic style in general. Dionysus encourages the reluctant Aeschylus to answer Euripides’ question and not to be difficult, self-indulgently affecting a solemn air (μηδ’ αὐθάδως σεμνυνόμενος χαλέπαινε, Ar. Ra. 1020).⁶⁰ The adjective σεμνός then acquires a further technical meaning as characterising solemn elevated tragic content/style/diction (cf. Pl. Grg. 502b: Τί δὲ δὴ ἡ σεμνὴ αὕτη καὶ θαυμαστή, ἡ τῆς τραγῳδίας ποίησις; Arist. Poet. 4.1449a19). It eventually transforms into a technical term in later theory (e. g. Arist. Po. 1458a21, Rh. 1404b8; 1408b32; Plin. Ep. 2.11.17; Rhet. anon. 3.117.29 the chapter Περὶ σεμνοῦ λόγου). As a note of caution, one should always be careful in making genealogical terminological connections. Studies on the diachronic developments of words within a language are often misleading and the results are accorded greater importance than is justified. The meaning of σεμνὸς λόγος in Roman times is not necessarily relevant to fifth century BCE Attic usage. Five hundred years is ample time for words to metamorphosise themselves, having been transformed in both form and content. Certain evaluative terms are significant only within a certain period before they die out, whereas other evaluative terms remain relevant over a much longer period, as is the case with some of the evaluative designations discussed below. The adjective σεμνός was transported from the religious environment into the realm of literary criticism to mean ’solemn’, describing an elevated literary style such as tragedy or epic. Only comedy

 On Aeschylus’ ’bigness’, see Easterling 2005, 28 – 29 and O’Sullivan 2020, 548 – 555 with further bibliography. On the verb ἀποσεμνύνεσθαι used in the theoretical discussion of tragedy, cf. Arist. Poet. 4.1449a19 – 21: “from slight plots (ἐκ μικρῶν μύθων) and laughable diction (λέξεως γελοίας), because it was developed from a satiric mode (διὰ τὸ ἐκ σατυρικοῦ μεταβαλεῖν), it was late when tragedy acquired solemnity (ὀψὲ ἀπεσεμνύνθη)”. See Lucas 1968, 84. On the use of the adjective μέγας referring to tragic solemnity in Old comedy and later on in rhetorical treatises, see also Bissinger 1966, 160, 162, 226, 228.  See the genre opposition in Isocrates’ Helen: “it is more toilsome to be solemn than to jest (τὸ σεμνύνεσθαι τοῦ σκώπτειν) and to be serious than to play” (τὸ σπουδάζειν τοῦ παίζειν, Isoc. 10, 11. On the connection of Aristophanes’ evaluation of Aeschylus with Gorgias’ theories, see also Pohlenz 1920, 159 – 162; Rosenmeyer 1955; Taillardat 1965, 435 – 450; Walsh 1984, 80 – 106; O’Sullivan 1992, 7– 22; Ford 2002, 188 – 201, 280 – 282; Porter 2010, 262– 307, esp. 271– 275.

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could play with this meaning and reverse it so that it meant something close to its opposite (cf. Ephippus fr. 19,25 PCG σεμνὸς σεμνῶς χλανίδ’ ἕλκων!).⁶¹ It does not alter the main evaluative meaning of the word σεμνός. The cases discussed above reveal that although contest and competition were crucial elements in the approach to literary work, the evaluation of the work did not function according the laws of binary oppositions, as a contest of Homer and Hesiod or of Aeschylus and Euripides might suggest. The analysis of metaphorical domains used to support the growing vocabulary of textual and literary criticism reveals that though the much-discussed ’frigidity’ in style was a negative characteristic (cf. Ar. Thesm. 170: ὁ δ’ αὖ Θέογνις ψυχρὸς ὢν ψυχρῶς ποιεῖ, Ar. Thesm. 848: οὐ τὸν Παλαμήδη ψυχρὸν ὄντ’ αἰσχύνεται; Eupol. fr. 261 PCG: τὸ σκῶμμ’ ἀσελγὲς καὶ Μεγαρικὸν καὶ σφόδρα ψυχρόν, Timocl. fr. 19, 6 – 7: ψυχρόν. – ἀλλὰ πρὸϲ θεῶν ἐπί[ϲ]χε|τε μηδὲ ϲυρίξητε, cf. further Ar. Ach. 138 – 140),⁶² there were no ’hot’ texts or authors who might reveal that ‘frigidity’ occurred in binary opposition to the ‘hot’.⁶³ Similarly, though there were ’round’ light phrases to be bandied about, and these were evaluated positively, ’heavy’ and ’cornered’ phrases could also be considered good (cf. στρογγύλοις τοῖς ῥήμασιν, Ar. Ach. 686, and δέωμαι γωνιαίου ῥήματος, Pl. fr. 69 PCG, both discussed above). The spectrum of evaluation was embodied on multiple complex layers, with expressions being ‘chiselled’ and ‘thin’, ‘solemn’ and ‘wet’ and ‘cold’. These cases also reveal that conceptual metaphors from various environmental spheres such as sport, carpentry, medicine, ship-building, cooking, or ritual practice can convey images into the vocabulary of literary criticism and text analysis.⁶⁴ Evaluative terms notably contribute to the construction of future scholarly vocabulary. What is important in the application of the enactivist approach is an awareness of the experience which the bodies and minds of an Attic audience might have lived through whilst seeing, hearing and touching chiselled words, or tasting the salted poetry of Archilochus. However, metaphors could have been challenging, startling, odd, or indeed comic just as easily as they could tap into or evoke ‘real’ experience. Clearly, different people construed the same metaphors against a background of different experience, whilst the imaginative power of an author such as Pindar or Aristophanes influenced the recipients in the same way Marquez’ ants or Platonov’s foundation pit would have influenced twentieth century narratees. This experience added a further dimension to the blending proc   

Papachrysostomou 2021, 191– 192. Gutzwiller 1969, 16 – 23. Zink 1962, 31– 47 and 67– 72. On ’poetry as a craft’, see further examples in Harriott 1969, 92– 104.

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ess of perceiving both comic text and literary criticism. In sum, the potential for innovative meaning was created by the power of metaphor based on previous somatic experiences of the performers and recipients and by the embodiment of environmental metaphors on stage in the interpretative process of blending elevated stylistic judgement with the more-than-serious and farcical materiality of comedy.

Chapter 4 Experiencing genres Ideas and language related to the classification of genres play a significant role in comedy. Genre as an organising principle of composition is distinguished by its thematic, formal and pragmatic aspects.¹ Analysis of these organising principles as well as the theorising of these aspects was an indispensable element of the development of pre-Hellenistic poetic and scholarly discourse. Evidence of the construction of such a discourse showing the contribution of Old and Middle Comedy (Antiph. fr. 189 PCG) to this process can be found in contemporary discussions of genre. Through its spatial, temporal, and emotional focalisation in performance, comedy’s audiences experienced both discussions about genres and genres embodied onstage. Through this, professional criticism developed bodily intermediality: genres reflected on each another on the dramatic stage, thus coining and fixing professional terms as part of this process. The fact that genres in comedy were experienced on stage has already been made evident from the discussion of Cratinus’ fragment 6 PCG above, in which the probable juxtaposition of iambic and epic poetry is vividly represented through the somatic and sensory-motor imagery of ’blind’ and ’pickle brine’. In this chapter I will further explore this aspect of genres as embodied in comedy. I will suggest that comedy discusses its own and other generic peculiarities and employs a broad range of generic terminology. I will first discuss examples from Old Comedy where generic designations are directly referenced, then I will turn to the famous Antiphanes’ fragment 189 PCG (Poiēsis) where the influence of literary criticism is salient. Finally, I will contextualise discussions on genre, suggesting a modest contribution of comedy to the general awareness of genre in Archaic and Classical Greece.

4.1 Old Comedy defines dramatic genres The three generic designations connected to the Dionysiac festival and dramatic performance became standard scholarly terminology, τραγῳδία, κωμῳδία, and δρᾶμα.² Terms that otherwise would have been known to us from scarce epi-

 See Bauman 2000. See also Ford 2006b, 279 – 283. On genre as a historically grounded reality with a changeable rather than fixed nature, see Fowler 1982, 45 – 48.  On the role of comedy in the genre system of classical drama, cf. Silk 2013. On the self-reflective generic terminology in Greek drama, see Novokhatko 2020d. On the vocabulary connected to the dithyrambic contest of the Athenian City Dionysia, see Ceccarelli 2013b. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-007

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graphical evidence (such as the τραγῳδοί and κωμῳδοί in fifth century BCE inscriptions or the Τραγωιδία and Κωμωιδία on vases) come alive through comic voices. Attic Comedy is our main source for the use and meanings of the terms “tragedy”, “comedy” and “drama”. It is noteworthy that the terms are rarely mentioned in other fifth century BCE texts.³ Four terms denoting dramatic performance at the Dionysiac festival – τραγῳδία, κωμῳδία, τρυγῳδία, and δρᾶμα – are documented for the first time in the 430s BCE, or just before. ’Tragedy’ and ’comedy’ as terms were obviously in use much earlier, as the earliest tragic and comic playwrights had to designate their own work, but here I emphasise the first surviving attestations, which reveal an increasing spread of technical vocabulary.⁴ The first reference is found in an unassigned fragment by Ecphantides quoted in an anonymous commentary on Aristotle: Μεγαρικῆς κωμῳδίας †ἆσμα δίειμαι† (fr. 3 PCG: “†I dismiss the song† of Megarian comedy”).⁵ Whilst the authenticity of the fragment has been questioned, if it is authentic then it is the first attestation for the word κωμῳδία in Greek (Ecphantides being one of the earliest representatives of the genre, dated from 458 BCE on). The fragment reveals a clear distinction between Megarian and Attic comedy.⁶ There is some evidence for the use of the term τραγῳδία by early comic playwrights as well. Crates mentions the term in his Paidiai, discussed above: τοῖς δὲ τραγῳδοῖς ἕτερος σεμνὸς πᾶσιν λόγος ἄλλος ὅδ’ ἔστιν (fr. 28 PCG: “[However] all the tragic performers have a diverse solemn plot, this is different”).⁷ The use of τραγῳδοί should mean “tragic performers” here, framing the subject essentially as a performer.⁸ This is clear in the much-discussed choregic dedication from

 Exceptions include Hdt. 5.67 and 6.21; Gorg. DK82 B24 (cf. Ar. Ra. 1021); Ps.-Xen. Ath. Pol. 2.18.  On the connotations of κωμῳδία in Classical Athens, see Silk 2020.  Anon. in Arist. Eth. Nic. 4.6.1123a23 = CAG XX 186, 12– 20 Heylbut. In PCG the fragment consists of two verses. I believe that the second verse does not belong to this fragment, but to the cover-text: see Bagordo 2014a, 89 – 93, with bibliography.  On the testimonia referring to Ecphantides, see Bagordo 2014a, 73 – 84. On Megarian humour and Attic distance from it, cf. Ar. Ach. 729 – 817, Wasps 57 and Biles and Olson 2015, 102– 103, Eup. fr. 261 PCG and Olson 2016, 349 – 352 and Wright 2012, 109. See also Arist. Poet. 3.1448a29 – 35 and Konstantakos 2020, 17– 23.  This verse is not clear. See the discussion above p. 90. Various translations are possible; cf. Storey 2011, 225 (“This is a different sort of story, a serious one, for all the tragic poets”), Farmer 2017, 28 n. 49 (“all the tragedians have this whole other solemn logos”); and Perrone 2019, 150 (“ma tutt’altra storia, da rappresentazioni tragiche, per tutti veneranda è questa qui”). On the obscurity of the term λόγος here, see Farmer 2017, 28 n. 49 with further bibliography.  On the terms τραγῳδοί and κωμῳδοί, see Pickard-Cambridge 1968, 129 – 132, and especially on their frequent use of the plural see Ghiron-Bistagne 1976, 119 – 125.

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Anagyrous (IG I3 969, dated to between c. 440 and 431 BCE): “Socrates dedicated. Euripides directed. Tragic performers (τραγωιδοί): Amphidemus, Python, Euthydicus…” Here fourteen names are listed for τραγῳδοί instead of the expected fifteen, perhaps because the choregos excluded the chorus-leader (κορυφαῖος).⁹ Both τραγῳδοί and κωμῳδοί are also found in epigraphical evidence from the second half of the fifth century BCE.¹⁰ However, the terms might refer to various activities connected to play production such as composer, performer, actor and member of the chorus, which seem to not have been linguistically distinguished from one another.¹¹ From the beginning, generic terms were used in comedy, and, as has been argued in chapter 3, stylistic peculiarities such as the tragic solemn style or Megarian humour could be identified by both the author and the recipient, with the theatre audience experiencing this discussion. Thus Cratinus mentions τραγῳδία in his Hōrai (fr. 276 PCG): Ἴτω δὲ καὶ τραγῳδίας ὁ Κλεομάχου διδάσκαλος, παρατιλτριῶν ἔχων χορὸν Λυδιστὶ τιλλουσῶν μέλη πονηρά. Let the son of Cleomachus go as well, the trainer of the chorus of tragedy, who has a chorus of hair-plucking women, who pluck the songs/limbs in the Lydian mode in an ugly way.

’Tragedy’ here should probably be understood performatively; τραγῳδία denotes the performance at a Dionysiac festival explained in bodily aesthetic terms, where imagined women pluck ugly songs (τιλλουσῶν μέλη πονηρά) and pluck hair (παρατιλτριῶν). Theatrical vocabulary, such as the terms διδάσκαλος and χορός, is used.¹² The director is called by name (Gnesippus, the son of Cleomachus) and profession (τραγῳδίας διδάσκαλος). Often only a name is sufficient, as with this same Gnesippus in Cratinus’ Boukoloi (fr. 17 PCG). Elsewhere, Cratinus coined a neologism in which two genres meet: εὐριπιδαριστοφανίζων (fr. 342 PCG).¹³ These identifications of authors with genres, combined with the function of ὀνομαστὶ κωμῳδεῖν (to ridicule by name), helped identify and classify genres.

 Csapo 2010, 110. On the inscription IG I3 969 see further Ghiron-Bistagne 1976, 119 – 21; Wilson 2000, 131– 34; Csapo 2010, 91– 92 and Wilson 2015, 120, n. 90.  IG I3 254, ll. 9, 21, 34 (a decree from the Rural Dionysia in Ikarion, c. 440 – 415? BCE with Wilson 2015 for the detail, contains only τραγοιδός, 3 times), IG I3 258bis, lines 2, 5, 6 (from the theatre at Thorikos, c. 420?), IG I³ 970 (a choregic dedication from the Dionysia at Eleusis, c. 425 – 406 BCE? with Csapo 2010: 90 – 91).  Halliwell 1980, 41– 42.  On the diachronic development of the terms, see Ghiron-Bistagne 1976, 125 – 34.  Karamanou 2011, 726–727; Fries 2020, 240 – 241; Jendza 2020a, 30 – 35. See above p. 80 – 81, f.13.

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In Aristophanes’ Acharnians Dicaeopolis speaks in the name of the author of the comedy, declaring that he suffered “because of last year’s comedy” (διὰ τὴν πέρυσι κωμῳδίαν, 378). Again, κωμῳδία points to a performance at the City Dionysia festival, in all probability the performance of Aristophanes’ Babylonioi in 426 BCE.¹⁴ In the same play, Aristophanes uses the term τραγῳδία to refer to the work of Euripides, the earliest extant use of the word; Euripides is said to be at home “creating tragedy” (ποιεῖ τραγῳδίαν, 399 – 400).¹⁵ In the prologue Dicaeopolis says (9 – 11), ἀλλ’ ὠδυνήθην ἕτερον αὖ τραγῳδικόν, ὅτε δὴ ’κεχήνη προσδοκῶν τὸν Αἰσχύλον, ὁ δ’ ἀνεῖπεν, “εἴσαγ’, ὦ Θέογνι, τὸν χορόν”. However, I had then again a truly tragic grief, when I was open-mouthed waiting for Aeschylus, and the guy proclaimed “Bring on your chorus, Theognis!”

The narrative techniques used in Dicaeopolis’ story to refer to the rival genre include spatial (εἴσαγ’) and temporal organisation (the narrative sequence of the aorist (ὠδυνήθην, ἀνεῖπεν); the use of pluperfect (’κεχήνη) tenses followed by a switch to the direct speech and the imperative (εἴσαγ’); and emotional engagement (ὠδυνήθην) with the creation of suspense (’κεχήνη προσδοκῶν). The adjective τραγῳδικός, here employed ironically, surrounded by the two ‘tragic’ names of Aeschylus and Theognis, seems to have been an Aristophanic creation, as it is used exclusively by Aristophanes (Frogs 769, 1495 and Plutos 424).¹⁶ In Acharnians τραγῳδία is connected exclusively to Euripides. In the scene where the slave describes Euripides’ activities, Dicaeopolis uses this word to ask whether Euripides was wearing “these rags from tragedy” (τὰ ῥάκι’ ἐκ τραγῳδίας ἔχεις, 412). Here τραγῳδία is used in its primary meaning of theatrical performance, as Euripides literally wears theatrical costumes, rags from his own pieces.¹⁷ τὰ ῥάκι’ ἐκ τραγῳδίας emphasises stage requisites rather than a

 On Cleon and the political context of the Babylonians and the Acharnians, see Halliwell 1980 and Olson 2002, xl-lii.  On the use of the verb ποιεῖν and its cognates ποίησις, ποίημα and ποιητής and a “fundamentally new conception of verbal art in Classical Greece” (Ford 2002, 131) developed during the fifth century BCE with reference to a composer’s individual skills, see Ford 1981, 296 – 368, and Ford 2002, 93 – 157.  The adjective appears once more in Luc. Jup. trag. 11. The adjective ending in -ikós is considered a typical late fifth century BCE pattern of formation, see Willi 2003, 139 – 45 and Labiano Illundain 2004. On the adjective κωμῳδικός, see below pp. 106 – 107.  On Aristophanes’ repeated joke that Euripides’s tragedies contain beggars, see Ar. Pax 146 – 48, Ra. 842, 846, 1063 – 64; cf. Sommerstein 1980, 174.

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written literary text, although it might have implied this secondary metaphorical meaning as well. The character Euripides uses the term τραγῳδία when referring to his own work (464). Dicaeopolis took the requisites from Euripides’ ‘beggarplays’ and Euripides claims that “none remained” (470).¹⁸ We can conclude that as early as 425 BCE τραγῳδία indicated both a script being written (as in 398 – 400) and a piece to be performed, the embodied authorial work on stage with the necessary theatrical requisites (as in 412 and 464). Finally, the paradigmatic pun τρυγῳδία (“new-wine-song”) was coined in Aristophanes’ Acharnians. It refers to the close connection between the performative genres: τραγῳδία on the one hand, and κωμῳδία with τρύξ, its pure Dionysian constituent, on the other (498 – 500):¹⁹ εἰ πτωχὸς ὢν ἔπειτ’ ἐν ᾿Aθηναίοις λέγειν μέλλω περὶ τῆς πόλεως, τρυγῳδίαν ποιῶν. τὸ γὰρ δίκαιον οἶδε καὶ τρυγῳδία. Although being poor I am going to speak before the Athenians about the city whilst composing a “trygedy”. For what is just, knows “trygedy” as well.

Here Dicaeopolis plays with both his name “just-city” and the freshly-coined terminology, emphatically proclaiming a spatial manifesto (ἐν ᾿Aθηναίοις, περὶ τῆς πόλεως) for the new genre, and immediately juxtaposing it with its sibling genre “tragedy”.²⁰ The process of term-creation is highlighted here, as this juxtaposition of two genres and the use of their names together will be transferred to Plato, and through him to later authors.²¹ The emphatic use of the new vocabulary continues in the parabasis where Aristophanes explains his role as a comic playwright and the function of his genre (628 – 32):²² ἐξ οὗ γε χοροῖσιν ἐφέστηκεν τρυγικοῖς ὁ διδάσκαλος ἡμῶν, οὔπω παρέβη πρὸς τὸ θέατρον λέξων ὡς δεξιός ἐστιν· διαβαλλόμενος δ’ ὑπὸ τῶν ἐχθρῶν ἐν ᾿Aθηναίοις ταχυβούλοις,

 Rosen 2006, 28 – 29 n. 4.  Taplin 1983. For more on the competitive contrast of tragedy and comedy and on τρυγῳδία, see Taplin 1986, Edwards 1991, 157– 163, and Hall 2006, 328 – 333. See also Farmer 2017, 150 – 153, 198 – 212.  Olson 2002, 200 – 201 and Mastronarde 1999 – 2000.  Cf. numerous parallels in Plato where comedy and tragedy are listed together, such as Pl. Theaet. 152e, Phileb. 50b, Symp. 223d, Leg. 658b-d, Rep. 3, 394c-d, 395a-b.  On the function of the parabasis and the self-referential motives used in the Acharnians, see Hubbard 1991: 41– 59.

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ὡς κωμῳδεῖ τὴν πόλιν ἡμῶν καὶ τὸν δῆμον καθυβρίζει, ἀποκρίνασθαι δεῖται νυνὶ πρὸς ᾿Aθηναίους μεταβούλους. Since our director has taken charge of comic [“trygic”] choruses, he has never come forward to the audience saying that he is clever. But slandered by the enemies among the swiftlymaking-up-their-mind Athenians with the charge that he is the one who composes a comedy about our city and insults the people, he now begs for permission to reply to the changing-their-mind Athenians.

The terms “comic choruses” (χοροῖσιν τρυγικοῖς), “director” (ὁ διδάσκαλος), and “composes a comedy” (κωμῳδεῖ) are used in a purely performative context here. Comic choruses are also called “trygic” (τρυγῳδικός) as a metaphor for a peaceful entertainment, as Dicaeopolis says to an eel: ἦλθες ποθεινὴ μὲν τρυγῳδικοῖς χοροῖς (886: “you came longing for comic [“trygic”] choruses”). The transitive verb κωμῳδεῖν is in active use from the very beginning (κωμῳδήσει τὰ δίκαια, 655) as a generic term. The repeated use of “justice” linked to the serious material of tragedy emphasises the poet’s awareness of the serious function of comedy. Through this repeated self-affirmation Aristophanes introduces generic terminology and renders it meaningful. Eupolis in Dēmoi provides another example of the use of dramatic terminology. In a long papyrus fragment the word τρυγῳδο̣ [ (fr. 99.29 PCG) stands isolated. It is unclear which form exactly is at the end of the line, but the link to Aristophanic coinage is plausible.²³ The above example is evidence for the earliest use of the dramatic terms τραγῳδία and κωμῳδία and their cognates. The word δρᾶμα, which is exclusively applied as a theatrical term to tragedy in the fifth century BCE, also seems to be have been in use from the 420s BCE. Herodotus 6.21.2 mentions it referring to Phrynichus’ tragedy Milētou halōsis. ᾿Aθηναῖοι μὲν γὰρ δῆλον ἐποίησαν ὑπεραχθεσθέντες τῇ Μιλήτου ἁλώσι τῇ τε ἄλλῃ πολλαχῇ καὶ δὴ καὶ ποιήσαντι Φρυνίχῳ δρᾶμα Μιλήτου ἅλωσιν καὶ διδάξαντι ἐς δάκρυά τε ἔπεσε τὸ θέητρον καὶ ἐζημίωσάν μιν ὡς ἀναμνήσαντα οἰκήια κακὰ χιλίῃσι δραχμῇσι, καὶ ἐπέταξαν μηκέτι μηδένα χρᾶσθαι τούτῳ τῷ δράματι. For the Athenians made it clear – as they were feeling deep grief for the taking of Miletus – in various ways, and towards Phrynichus as well who composed and directed the play “The Taking of Miletus”; and the audience broke into tears, and they [the Athenians] fined him a thousand drachmae for reminding them about home calamities and forbade anyone from reusing this play, forever.²⁴

 Telò 2007, 380 – 386 and Olson 2017, 340 – 341.  Hornblower and Pelling 2017, 110 – 113.

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It is possible that δρᾶμα might simply mean “deed, act” here, but placed in a context with both verbs linked to the production of tragedy, ποιεῖν and διδάσκειν, as well as the earliest attested use of the noun θέατρον here (meaning ‘spectators’), makes it likely that we are here observing the (early) use of the theatrical term.²⁵ In Aristophanes’ Acharnians, δρᾶμα occurs twice, both times referring to Euripides’ tragedies (vv. 414– 415 and 470). Around this time, the term is also used in an unassigned fragment of Telecleides, with someone “roasting a new play for Euripides” (φρύγει τι δρᾶμα καινόν Εὐριπίδῃ, fr. 41 PCG).²⁶ An enigmatic work of Ion of Chios is Mega drāma (if the title is to be trusted) from before 421 BCE.²⁷ Ion is said to have composed different kinds of poetry, but was chiefly known for his tragedies and dithyrambs.²⁸ Three fragments of Mega drāma survive, though from these nothing can be assumed concerning the meaning of the title. Finally, δρᾶμα occurs five times in the Thesmophoriazusae, always referring to tragedy: to Euripides (v. 849), Carcinus, Agathon, and Phyrynichus (vv. 52 and 166), and to a tragic playwright in general (vv. 149 and 151). The same can be seen in Aristophanes’ Dramata e Kentauros (frs. 278 – 288 PCG), Dramata e Niobos (frs. 289 – 298) and Dramata (frs. 299 – 304 PCG). As is often the case with double titles, they may perhaps have been attributed by a scribe or a bookseller, not necessarily by the author himself. The intention behind the word Dramata therefore remains unclear.²⁹ The chorus in Aristophanes’ Knights swears to the Paphlagonian that if it does not hate him, “may I be taught to sing an accompaniment to a tragedy by Morsimus!” (διδασκοίμην προσᾴδειν Μορσίμου τραγῳδίᾳ, 401). Here τραγῳδία is seen from the perspective of a chorus-member; the chorus considers it a punishment to be engaged in the stage production of a bad playwright. The vocabulary of choral activities is also used (διδάσκειν and προσᾴδειν). Further, in the parabasis the chorus-leader presents the history of the performance of comedy

 Aristotle notably explained the etymology of ’drama’: “therefore some people say that dramas are thus called because they imitate people in action” (ὅθεν καὶ δράματα καλεῖσθαί τινες αὐτά φασιν, ὅτι μιμοῦνται δρῶντας, Arist. Poet. 3.1448a28 – 29). See Lucas 1968, 69. Cf. Hdt. 5.67.5, on tragic institutions at Sicyon in the early sixth century BCE (“they celebrated with tragic choruses” τραγικοῖσι χοροῖσι ἐγέραινον), see also Hornblower 2013, 204. On the contribution of early Peloponnesian tragic performances to the establishment of Attic festivals, see Stewart 2017, 94– 95.  Bagordo 2013, 195 – 205.  Jennings and Katsaros 2007, 5; Bagordo 2014a, 114– 115.  Dover 1986.  Sommerstein 2002, 5 – 6.

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in Greece, and discusses κωμῳδοδιδασκαλία, “the production/direction of comedy” (507– 17):³⁰ εἰ μέν τις ἀνὴρ τῶν ἀρχαίων κωμῳδοδιδάσκαλος ἡμᾶς ἠνάγκαζεν λέξοντας ἔπη πρὸς τὸ θέατρον παραβῆναι, οὐκ ἂν φαύλως ἔτυχεν τούτου… ἃ δὲ θαυμάζειν ὑμῶν φησιν πολλοὺς αὐτῷ προσιόντας καὶ βασανίζειν, ὡς οὐχὶ πάλαι χορὸν αἰτοίη καθ’ ἑαυτόν, ἡμᾶς ὑμῖν ἐκέλευε φράσαι περὶ τούτου. φησὶ γὰρ ἁνὴρ οὐχ ὑπ’ ἀνοίας τοῦτο πεπονθὼς διατρίβειν, ἀλλὰ νομίζων κωμῳδοδιδασκαλίαν εἶναι χαλεπώτατον ἔργον ἁπάντων πολλῶν γὰρ δὴ πειρασάντων αὐτὴν ὀλίγοις χαρίσασθαι· If any of the old directors of comedy compelled us to come forward to the audience and to say words, he would not have gained this easily… he says that many of you come to him and wonder and question him about why he did not ask for a chorus in his own name long ago, and he asked us to speak to you about this. For the man says that he had remained in this situation not from stupidity, but thinking that comic production/direction is the most difficult labour of all; for from those many who have tried her, she has favoured only a few.

The noun κωμῳδοδιδασκαλία (516) is personified here in a metaphor of sexual contact between a comic director/playwright with his production (a female figure) to describe the process of the creation of comedy.³¹ The word occurs only here; more common is the term denoting the profession of the director κωμῳδοδιδάσκαλος (507).³² In Clouds several puns are made criticising both comic and tragic playwrights. Socrates uses a comic coinage τρυγοδαίμονες (296) to refer to comic poets/performers and their activities, who are later attacked (1091 τραγῳδοῦσι) together with advocates (1089 συνηγοροῦσι) and politicians (1093 δημηγοροῦσι) as passive homosexuals. In the parabasis the chorus-leader refers to the first version of the Clouds. The performed product is the first meaning of “comedy” here, with the author explicitly speaking to the spectators (ὑμᾶς θεατὰς, 521) who receive the best of his comedies (τῶν ἐμῶν κωμῳδιῶν, 523). The generic link of comedy to tragedy points to their closeness (534– 36):

 On the parabasis of the Knights, see Hubbard 1991, 60 – 87. On this specific passage and on the question of producing/directing versus composing comedy, see Halliwell 1980. See also Sommerstein 1981, 170 – 171.  On sexual metaphors referring to the poetic act, see below pp. 109 – 110.  Cf. Isocr. 8.14; Lys. 85, fr. 195.11; 86, fr. 196.3; Arist. De an. 406b17; EE 1230b19.

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νῦν οὖν Ἠλέκτραν κατ’ ἐκείνην ἥδ’ ἡ κωμῳδία ζητοῦσ’ ἦλθ’, ἤν που ’πιτύχῃ θεαταῖς οὕτω σοφοῖς· γνώσεται γάρ, ἤνπερ ἴδῃ, τἀδελφοῦ τὸν βόστρυχον. But now like the famous Electra, this comedy has come searching whether she would find so clever spectators; for she will recognise, if she sees it, the lock of her brother.

The Electra simile (Ἠλέκτραν κατ’ ἐκείνην v. 534) casts Electra as the genre of tragedy.³³ Personified comedy is thus juxtaposed with the personification of tragedy. This personification is taken a step further in the κωμῳδία in Cratinus’ Pytine, which defeated Clouds at the City Dionysia of 423 BCE. According to a scholion, Cratinus’ wife Κωμῳδία was the protagonist (Schol. Ar. Eq. 400a = Cratin. Pytine test. 2 PCG): Stimulated by this, it seems to me, although having withdrawn from competing and composing, he wrote a play again, the Pytine, attacking himself and his drunkenness (τὴν Πυτίνην, εἰς αὑτόν τε καὶ τὴν μέθην), using the following plan. Cratinus imagined comedy to be his wife (τὴν Κωμῳδίαν ὁ Κρατῖνος ἐπλάσατο αὑτοῦ εἶναι γυναῖκα); she wanted to divorce him and made a claim against him for ill-treatment. Cratinus’ friends happened to be there and begged him not to do anything reckless and to ask her the reason for her hatred. And she blamed him that he did not compose comedies anymore (τὴν δὲ μέμφεσθαι αὐτῷ ὅτι μὴ κωμῳδοίη μηκέτι), but used his leisure for drunkenness.³⁴

Such personification of tragedy and comedy on stage must have shaped the audience’s acceptance of the genre, and thus defined its key characteristics.³⁵ Evidence from painting backs this argument up; as analysed by Edith Hall, a female figure, named Τραγωιδία, appears on vases from around this period, the 440s BCE, whilst the woman named Κωμωιδία is first painted in the mid fifth century BCE.³⁶ This evidence strongly supports the argument that designations for tragedy and comedy come into active use at this time, on sympotic vessels as on

 Aeschylus’ Choephori is intended: see Dover 1968, 168; Sommerstein 1982, 188; Rogers 2020; Olson 2021, 132– 133.  Rosen 2000, 26; Bowie 2000; Hall 2000, 410 – 412. On the possible dialogue of Cratinus using the same metaphor in Ar. Eq. 515 – 517, see Biles 2011, 149 – 151.  Cf. Ar. Peace 794– 795 containing an unclear reference to Carcinus’ tragedy “throttled by a weasel an evening before”: τὸ δρᾶμα γαλῆν τῆς ἑσπέρας ἀπάγξαι. See Sommerstein 1985: 171.  The earliest image of Τραγωιδία is on the Athenian red-figure crater (Polygnotus group), c. 440 – 430 BCE. She is a maenad, holding a thyrsus in her right hand and a leveret in her left hand. The earliest female image named Κωμωιδία is on a red-figure crater of Hector painter, c. 450 BCE. She is a maenad accompanying Hephaestus back to Olympus. See Hall 2007, 225 – 228.

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stage. Hall thus argues that visualisation is influential in the development of the genre. The images of tragedy and comedy are auxiliary to the establishment of genres, and changes in this imagery correspond to growing multi-media conceptualisations of them. In Wasps, Aristophanes develops an interactive dialogue between comedy and tragedy on stage.³⁷ In the prologue, the term κωμῳδία is used for a number of other playwrights’ “bad comedy” (κωμῳδίας δὲ φορτικῆς, 66).³⁸ Xanthias thus announces in the prologue a coming “cleverer” play (v. 66); this motif of others’ “bad comedy” is further developed throughout the play. The protagonist Bdelycleon states that “it is hard, and appropriate for a clever disposition, and far beyond what comic performers/poets [’πὶ τρυγῳδοῖς] do, to cure an ancient illness inborn in the city” (650 – 51). Thus other τρυγῳδοί are not able to do what the author intends to achieve. The use of self-referential terminology recurs in the parabasis. The adjective κωμῳδικός (1020), attested here for the first time and meaning “relating to comedy”, recalls τραγῳδικός at Acharnians 9. Surprisingly, κωμῳδικός is linked to the literary text (κωμῳδικὰ πολλὰ χέασθαι “to pour many verses of comedy”).³⁹ This reappears more explicitly related to “verses” in the same monologue, referring to the performative context with ἀκοῦσαι (“to have heard”, 1047), and the written script with ἔπη κωμῳδικὰ (“verses from comedy”, 1047).⁴⁰ The text of the Wasps has several other references to comedy and tragedy. A lover upset with his boy-love asks the poet to write a comedy about him (κωμῳδεῖσθαι παιδίχ’ ἑαυτοῦ, 1026), and a hapax is created out of the roots κωμῳδεῖν and λείχειν (“to lick”), resulting in the verb κωμῳδολοιχεῖν (1318).⁴¹ Turning back to tragedy’s roots, the “inventor” of tragedy and first actor, Thespis, is mentioned in the play’s finale (1479). The old man Philocleon is said by the slave Xanthias to have danced all night long, and to have claimed that he would compete against contemporary τραγῳδοί (1480 – 1481). The old-fashioned man threatens to beat the modern tragic performance with his own performance à la Thespis. The generic challenge is expressed explicitly through the comic character provoking the genre of tragedy.⁴² Three tragic poets/performers (three sons

 Biles 2011, 154– 166; Farmer 2017, 117– 153; Telò 2016, 25 – 121.  Telò 2016, 58 – 59 and Platter 2007, 86 – 90.  On the Archaic poetic imagery of the verb χεῖσθαι, see Nünlist 1998, 180 – 185.  On the strong self-referential and metatheatrical meaning of κωμῳδικός, see the analysis of Ar. Eccl. 889: ὅμως ἔχει τερπνόν τι καὶ κωμῳδικόν, in Di Virgilio 2021.  Telò 2016, 91– 92.  Biles and Olson 2015, 501 and Farmer 2017, 148. On Philocleon’s contest in the finale, and on the more general challenge of Aristophanes’ comedy to tragedy in the final scene of the Wasps, see Farmer 2017, 147– 153 with detailed bibliography.

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of Carcinus) enter the orchestra to accept Philocleon’s challenge, and so represent contemporary tragedy, and Xanthias announces their appearance on stage using the appropriate terminology (1497– 1511). It seems reasonable to conclude from this passage that the term τραγῳδός is used here as a hypernym for both arts of tragic activity, performing and composing. All three brothers are supposed to be performers: the first two are called τραγῳδοί (1498 and 1505), and the youngest is said to compose tragedy (1511: ὃς τὴν τραγῳδίαν ποιεῖ). The final scene ends with a sphragis, the term ‘chorus of comic performers’, with which the chorus thus speaks about itself (1535 – 37): “But now lead out, please, dancing out of the theatre quickly; for none has ever done this before, to set free a dancing chorus of comic performers” (ὀρχούμενον ὅστις ἀπήλλαξεν χορὸν τρυγῳδῶν).⁴³ Aristophanes zooms in and out of the action, thus emphasising the range of perspectives from which tragedy and comedy can be viewed. The verb κωμῳδεῖν is used in the parabasis in the Peace (751),⁴⁴ and Melanthios and his chorus are mentioned (803– 808, especially 806 – 807 τῶν τραγῳδῶν τὸν χορὸν). Tragedy as “the chorus of tragic performers” stands in for ’theatrical performance’ (rather than an authorial ’literary piece’) in this passage and is shown from the perspective of the chorus members. Furthermore, an audience-oriented attitude towards the term τραγικός is clear when Trygaeus’ daughter advises her father to take on a “more tragic” air (135 – 136);⁴⁵ τραγικώτερος evokes Crates’ reference to the solemn style (σεμνός).⁴⁶ It is emphasised acoustically at the end of the verse, requiring a resolution after a series of unresolved trimeters; this was something “certainly intended to be humorous”.⁴⁷ The attention shifting between the actors, the characters, the text and the audience, is directed towards the issue of genre. Another audience-oriented use of the “tragic” is found when Trygaeus lists the things Eirene smells of (530 – 531): harvest time (ὀπώρας), the festivals of Dionysus (Διονυσίων), and the tragic performance (τραγῳδῶν). Finally, τραγῳδία can embody an authororiented perspective, the process of the creation of tragedy (147– 48): εἶτα χωλὸς ὢν Εὐριπίδῃ λόγον παράσχῃς καὶ τραγῳδία γένῃ and then being lame you would provide a plot for Euripides, and a tragedy would be born

 Biles 2011, 166 and Telò 2016, 115 – 120.  Telò 2016, 4– 6.  On the name Trygaeus and its connection to τρυγῳδία, see Hall 2006, 328 – 335.  On the stylistic value of tragic ’solemnity’, see above pp. 90 – 94. On the metaphorical use of τραγικός and τραγῳδῶ in the Classical period, see Dalfen 1972.  Olson 1998, 95. See also Farmer 2017, 119.

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Here “tragedy” is the product of its creator, highlighting the process of dramatic composition. τραγῳδία is juxtaposed with λόγος, as the plot comes first, and might derive from an external feature such as lameness. Yet it takes a Euripides to make this a tragedy.⁴⁸ In the parabasis Aristophanes returns to the production of comedy (734 – 738). Two aspects of the process are emphasised separately, though they both refer to the same person (these two functions were often but not always combined). κωμῳδοποιητής (734) highlights the composition of comedy, placing the author at the centre, whilst κωμῳδοδιδάσκαλος (737) refers to the function of the director.⁴⁹ There are no references to comedy but several to tragedy in Aristophanes’ Birds. In understanding the shifts in the term ‘tragedy’, it is worth noting that in this work we can see a scholarly use of the term ‘tragedy’ in reference to the corpus of Sophocles’ work. The reference is specifically made to his tragedy Tereus (100 – 01): “This is how Sophocles mistreats me, Tereus, in his tragedies”.⁵⁰ A tragedy with the appearance of Priam (512) is also mentioned. The technical term ἐξέλθοι, meaning the actor “coming out of the skene building, on to the stage”, belongs to the performative text, whilst ἐν τοῖσι τραγῳδοῖς could be used in the literal sense as well. The Birds-chorus in the parabasis teases the heavy and boring tragic chorus (789 τοῖς χοροῖσι τῶν τραγῳδῶν). Peisetaerus refers to tragedy from the perspective of a spectator, a young man obsessed with tragedy (ἐπὶ τραγῳδίᾳ ἀνεπτερῶσθαι, 1445). From the context, we can conclude that the generic term had by now been fixed and that the audience was used to its references. Even more interesting, the playwright shifts the perspective and becomes his own audience, re-evaluating and re-designating the genre to be spectated. In the same year, the parabasis of Aristophanes’ Amphiaraus (414 BCE) mentions a comic-frightening theatrical mask (κωμῳδικὸν μορμολυκεῖον, fr. 31 PCG).⁵¹ The adjective κωμῳδικός, attested for the first time in the Wasps, is used in the performative context of stage properties. A rare noun μορμολυκεῖον, otherwise seen twice in Aristophanes and once in Plato for “fright”, might be implied here which, used alongside the adjective κωμῳδικός, suggests the genre of comedy.⁵² Similarly Aristotle, juxtaposing tragedy and comedy, mentions a comic

 On the vocabulary of these two verses, see Crates fr. 28 PCG above.  Olson 1998: 217– 218.  For the plural ἐν ταῖς τραγῳδίαισιν, see Dunbar 1995, 164– 165; cf. Ar. Thesm. 450.  Orth 2017, 182– 186 and Hedreen 2016, 126 – 127.  Ar. fr. 130, 2 PCG, Thesm. 417 and Pl. Phd. 77e. Cf. μορμολύττεσθαι (“to frighten”) in Crates fr. 10.1 PCG and Ar. Av. 1245 and μορμολυ in Sophron (fr. 4b, 27 PCG) and Hordern 2004, 137– 138. See also Bagordo 2022, 53-55.

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theatrical mask (γελοῖον πρόσωπον) as an embodiment of laughter and the comedic genre itself in Poetics 5 (1449a33 – 36): τὸ γὰρ γελοῖόν ἐστιν ἁμάρτημά τι καὶ αἶσχος ἀνώδυνον καὶ οὐ φθαρτικόν, οἷον εὐθὺς τὸ γελοῖον πρόσωπον αἰσχρόν τι καὶ διεστραμμένον ἄνευ ὀδύνης. for the laughable is a fault or shame which is free from pain or destruction; most obviously like the laughable/comic mask, which is something ugly and distorted, but without pain.⁵³

In Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae Euripides is once again protagonist, and thus the comic interaction with tragedy and the use of the relevant vocabulary are intensified, the character of the popular tragic playwright being placed within the comic environment. ⁵⁴ Women plot against Euripides, and he is asked to explain the reason: ὁτιὴ τραγῳδῶ καὶ κακῶς αὐτὰς λέγω (“because I compose tragedies and abuse them”, 85).⁵⁵ Using the verb τραγῳδῶ, built on the κωμῳδῶ-model, the character-author himself declares “I compose/perform tragedies”, thus embodying both the performative and the literary aspects of the term. The performative use of the term “tragedy” is highlighted, listing spectators, tragic performers and choruses (θεαταὶ καὶ τραγῳδοὶ καὶ χοροί, 391) as the locus where Euripides slanders women. Later, a woman attacks Euripides for writing atheistic tragedies (450 – 451), with emphatic use of the verb ποιεῖν to underline the poet’s craftsmanship (ἐν ταῖσιν τραγῳδίαις ποιῶν, 450). Two other terms first attested in Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae refer to Agathon, ὁ τραγῳδοποιός and ὁ τραγῳδοδιδάσκαλος.⁵⁶ As in Peace 734– 738 where the terms κωμῳδοποιητής (734) and κωμῳδοδιδάσκαλος (737) are juxtaposed, here τραγῳδοποιός (Thesm. 30) distinguishes the function of poet/maker from the performer, whilst τραγῳδοδιδάσκαλος (88) emphasises Agathon’s function as the director of his own chorus. In a fragment from Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae II (between  Wiles 2008, 384– 385. On the criterion γελοῖον in the textual criticism and the discussion of Aristotle’s passage in this context, see below pp. 203 – 204. On the cognitive (in)stability of the enacted mask, which seemed uncanny and compelling in fifth century BCE dramatic performance, see Meineck 2019.  Nelson 2016, 248 – 261 and Farmer 2017, 155 – 194.  Sommerstein 1994, 163 and Austin and Olson 2004, 80. Cf. Ps.-Xen. Ath. Pol. 2.18: Κωμῳδεῖν δ’ αὖ καὶ κακῶς λέγειν τὸν μὲν δῆμον οὐκ ἐῶσιν.  Cf. similar compounds ἐποποιός Hdt. 2.120 and 7, 161; λογοποιός Hdt. 2.134; 2, 143; 5, 36; 5, 125; μουσοποιός Hdt. 2.135; ὑμνοποιός Εur. Suppl. 180, Rh. 651, fr. 556 TrGFr; μελοποιός Ar. Ra. 1250, Εur. Rh. 550 (cf. the verb μελοποιεῖν Αr. Thesm. 42, Frogs 1328); διθυραμβοποιός Lys. 86, fr. 196; μυθοποιός Pl. Rep. 337c; ἐλεγειοποιός Arist. Poet. 1447b14; ἰαμβοποιός Arist. Poet. 1451b14. Cf. Aristophanes’ further coinages ἀγριοποιός for Aeschylus and πτωχοποιός and χωλοποιός for Euripides (Ar. Ra. 837, 842, 846). On the function of -poios suffix, see Ford 1981: 341– 343 and Ford 2002, 133 – 139.

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415 and 406?) a further pun-coinage τρυγῳδοποιομουσική (fr. 347.1 PCG) for “the composition of comedy” reveals that the literary use of terminology is being developed. The rival juxtaposition of comedy with tragedy, a favourite motif in Old Comedy, creates finely-poised tensions between text composition and text production, authorship and plagiarism, solemnity and jest. As a result, the self-referential vocabulary of dramatic genres becomes increasingly prominent. A designation for satyr-plays is attested at this time as well. Thesmophoriazusae provides the first extant use of satyroi to refer to satyr-drama: ὅταν σατύρους τοίνυν ποιῇς (157: “whenever you create satyrs/write a satyr-drama”). Olson has argued that “in the Classical period the word never means anything other than ‘satyrs’”.⁵⁷ However, the emphatic use of the verb ποιεῖν with the “satyrs” creates a literary connotation, as in ποιεῖ τραγῳδίαν (Ach. 399 – 400).⁵⁸ Vase painting from the 430s on proves that there was deliberate speculation on the relationship between tragedy and satyrs.⁵⁹ To sum up, it is significant that the theatrical genre designations for literary work and performance production τραγῳδία, κωμῳδία and δρᾶμα, as well as the notions linked to them such as κωμῳδοποιητής, κωμῳδοδιδασκαλία and κωμῳδοδιδάσκαλος, stem from the 420s BCE and quickly became fixed terms. Text and production were processes that occurred in parallel, and at this stage were not separate from one another on a generic level. Aristophanes’ Gērytades (408/407 BCE?) includes one of the first classifications of genres, as three poets, representative of three genres, were elected and sent to the Underworld (fr. 156.8 – 10 PCG): Α. καὶ τίνες ἂν εἶεν; Β. πρῶτα μὲν Σαννυρίων ἀπὸ τῶν τρυγῳδῶν, ἀπὸ δὲ τῶν τραγικῶν χορῶν Μέλητος, ἀπὸ δὲ τῶν κυκλίων Κινησίας. Α. And who could they be? B. Firstly, Sannyrion from the trygic performers/poets, then Melitus from the tragic choruses, then Cinesias from the dithyrambs.

Terms for comic performers (τρυγῳδοί) and tragic choruses (τραγικοὶ χοροί) as well as dithyrambic choruses (κύκλιοι χοροί) denote three categories of perform-

 Austin and Olson 2004, 108.  Hdt. 6.21; Ar. Ach. 499; Nub. I 392 PCG; Thesm. 450; Ra. 90; Phryn. fr. 32 PCG.  Hall 2007, 231– 237.

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ative poetry.⁶⁰ The deliberate conflict between genres is crucial for this period. Three fragments survive from Alcaeus’ comedy Kōmōdotragōdia, produced after 408 BCE, where two distinct genres are juxtaposed and brought together.⁶¹ The adjective τραγικός is also attested as a noun meaning tragic actor. This occurs when the Athenian tragic actor Hegelochus⁶² is ridiculed (fr. 8.3 – 4 PCG) in Sannyrion’s comedy Danae (after 408 BCE).⁶³ “Tragedy” and “comedy” became fixed terms for the literary genres with the performative constituent gradually giving way to the literary and the written text becoming the dominant medium. In Aristophanes’ Frogs, Euripides is referred to as the tragic poet who is supposed to be creative and procreative (89 – 100): Ηρ. οὔκουν ἕτερ’ ἔστ’ ἐνταῦθα μειρακύλλια τραγῳδίας ποιοῦντα πλεῖν ἢ μύρια, Εὐριπίδου πλεῖν ἢ σταδίῳ λαλίστερα; Δι. ἐπιφυλλίδες ταῦτ’ ἐστὶ καὶ στωμύλματα, χελιδόνων μουσεῖα, λωβηταὶ τέχνης, ἃ φροῦδα θᾶττον, ἢν ἅπαξ χορὸν λάβῃ, μόνον προσουρήσαντα τῇ τραγῳδίᾳ. γόνιμον δὲ ποιητὴν ἂν οὐχ εὕροις ἔτι ζητῶν ἄν, ὅστις ῥῆμα γενναῖον λάκοι. Ηρ. πῶς γόνιμον; Δι. ὡδὶ γόνιμον, ὅστις φθέγξεται τοιουτονί τι παρακεκινδυνευμένον, “αἰθέρα Διὸς δωμάτιον” ἢ “χρόνου πόδα”… Heracles: And are not there more than countless young boys here composing tragedies, who are over a stadion more talkative than Euripides? Dionysus: They are small grapes and chatterboxes, “shrines of swallows”, disgracers of their skill, who disappear again rapidly, as soon as they get a chorus, having just pissed over tragedy. You could not find a fertile poet if you searched for one, who could shout a noble word. Heracles: How fertile? Dionysus: So fertile that one would say something risky such as “Aether, the room of Zeus” or “the foot of time”…⁶⁴

 Farmer 2017, 197– 204, Bagordo 2022, 86-90. On Cinesias as a representative of the so-called ’new music’ and ’song-bending’ connected to Phrygian modality, see Franklin 2013 and Franklin 2017. See also LeVen 2014, 75 – 78, 153 – 160, 220 – 223 and Ercoles 2017.  Pl. Symp. 223d; on Alcaeus’ title and plot, see Orth 2013, 86 – 89.  Orth 2015, 405 – 406 with further bibliography.  On the term ὑποκριτής for “actor” in tragedy and comedy from the last quarter of the fifth century BCE onwards; see Pickard-Cambridge 1968, 126 – 127 and Ghiron-Bistagne 1976, 115 – 119.  Sommerstein 1996, 164– 165 and Dover 1993, 201– 203. On the metaphor of fertility versus sterility in the discussion of the usefulness of written text, cf. Pl. Phdr. 277a (ἱκανοὶ καὶ οὐχὶ ἄκαρποι ἀλλὰ ἔχοντες σπέρμα). See Leitao 2012, 100 – 145.

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The genre is personified through the metaphor of a sexual act between the poet Euripides and the tragedy.⁶⁵ The term κωμῳδία, used at the very beginning of the prologue (15), specifies the genre with reference to repeated scenes in three other comic playwrights, Phrynichus, Lycis and Ameipsias (12 – 15). The verb κωμῳδεῖν is used in the parabasis to refer to a speaker who has become a subject of comedy at the Dionysia (κωμῳδηθεὶς, 368).⁶⁶ Aeschylus was considered the best tragic playwright (εἶχε τὸν τραγῳδικὸν θρόνον “he had the Chair of Tragedy”, 769) until Euripides appeared. Euripides describes Aeschylus’ manner of composing tragodiai (833 – 834, 911– 913, 935 – 937); strikingly, the term τραγῳδία is used by the character of Euripides but never by the character of Aeschylus in the Frogs. On two occasions in Frogs the term δρᾶμα denotes action on stage: τὸ δρᾶμα δ’ ἂν διῄει (“and the play proceeded”, 920), καὶ τὸ δρᾶμα ἤδη μεσοίη (“and the play was already at its middle”, 923). Euripides’ description of his tragedy overlaps with a critic’s reviewing: ἀλλ’ οὑξιὼν πρώτιστα μέν μοι τὸ γένος εἶπ’ ἂν εὐθὺς τοῦ δράματος (“but coming on stage my character at the very beginning immediately explained the origin of the play”, 946 – 947). δρᾶμα also refers to Aeschylus’ authorial product: δρᾶμα ποιήσας Ἄρεως μεστόν (“having composed a play full of Ares”, 1021). The famous scene of literary criticism in Aristophanes’ Frogs (757– 1471) examines tragedy experientially (798: μειαγωγήσουσι τὴν τραγῳδίαν “they will bring the tragedy to the scale as a sacrificial lamb”; 802 κατ’ ἔπος βασανιεῖν φησι τὰς τραγῳδίας‚ “says he would scrutinise the tragedies, every word”).⁶⁷ Specific parts of individual tragedies are examined, and four specific plays by Euripides are named by their title (860 – 864). The prologues of tragedies are also examined (1119 – 1197), the genre-specific structure being emphasised (1119 – 1121).⁶⁸ The chorus in the finale refers to Euripides, who lost the competition, as one who “ignored the most important things of the tragedic skill” (τά τε μέγιστα παραλιπόντα τῆς τραγῳδικῆς τέχνης, 1494– 1499). Phrynichus’ Mousai speaks of Sophocles who “composed many good tragedies” (fr. 32.3 PCG, πολλὰς ποιήσας καὶ καλὰς τραγῳδίας). In doing so he mir-

 The metaphor appears in Ar. Eq. 515 – 517 where Kōmōdodidaskalia does not want to have sex with all those who try; further Cratinus puts on stage his wife Kōmōdia (see above pp. 103 – 104), and Pherecrates represents Mousike as a high-class hetaera being mistreated by dithyrambic poets in his Cheiron (fr. 155 PCG). See Franchini-Napolitano 2020, 242– 294. On the sexual relationship of a playwright with his play, see Biles 2011, 149 – 151.  Dover 1993, 242.  Hunter 2009, 10 – 52; Halliwell 2011, 93 – 154.  Segal 1970; on the genre of tragedy, see Most 2000.

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rors Aristophanes in the Frogs. ⁶⁹ Phrynichus also composed a comedy titled Tragōdoi e Apeleutheroi ⁷⁰ in which tragic poets or performers were probably the chorus. A similar title is ascribed to a play by Callias, who may have composed a Grammatikē Tragōidia/Theōria in the last years of the fifth century BCE.⁷¹ Despite the persistence of debates on the chronology and genre of the play, the competition of genres is reflected in the titles of both these plays. In Strattis’ Anthrōporestēs, the (comic) playwright criticises an archon for selecting a wrong actor for the main role, and thus destroying Euripides’ great tragedy Orestes (fr. 1 PCG). The audience is expected to judge the quality of both authors and actors, with the tragedy (Εὐριπίδου δὲ δρᾶμα) evaluated with the superlative δεξιώτατον, and the job of the actor characterised with the verb διακναίειν (lit. “to scrape away”). Old Attic Comedy is overflowing with self-referential theatrical vocabulary. The generic terms τραγῳδία, κωμῳδία, τρυγῳδία and δρᾶμα are used intensively in extant comic texts from the very beginning of the genre: “in the theatrical milieu of the fifth century, where the focus of dramatic activities was the single public performance of a play, it is misguided to imagine the text and the production as two quite separate things”.⁷² If anything, Stephen Halliwell’s statement could be made more forcefully. Text and production were two closely interwoven parts of one and the same activity. Old Attic Comedy reflects a significant shift in the meaning of the terminology from the primacy of production towards the primacy of text, although both remain vivid constituents of dramatic performance.

4.2 Antiphanes and Aristotle on generic composition In the fourth century BCE it was the carefully structured plot of the comic play that gained importance; according to a later source, construction of the plot was the central focus for the poets of Middle Comedy.⁷³ An important example of comedic self-referentiality can be seen in Antiphanes’ comedy Poiēsis (fr. 189 PCG, perhaps from the late fourth century

 Stama 2014, 204– 205.  Stama 2014, 270 – 273.  = test. *7 PCG. See Smith 2003 and Bagordo 2014a, 129 – 132. See above p. 72.  Halliwell 1980, 42.  Proleg. Com. III p. 9 – 10, ll. 44– 45 Koster: κατασχολοῦνται δὲ πάντες περὶ τὰς ὑποθέσεις. See Nesselrath 1990, 188 – 241, Konstantakos 2004, 25 – 26, 54; Sorrentino 2014. On disputes over the notion of ‘Middle comedy’ see a useful discussion with bibliography by Nesselrath 2020.

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BCE).⁷⁴ The speaker, representing comic poetry and playwrights, complains about the difficulty of writing a comedy as compared to writing a tragedy (μακάριόν ἐστιν ἡ τραγῳδία ποίημα κατὰ πάντ’, vv. 1– 2); the comic poets must look for new names and plots for each play (ἡμῖν δὲ ταῦτ’ οὐκ ἔστιν, ἀλλὰ πάντα δεῖ εὑρεῖν, vv. 17– 18), while the tragic poets write down myths known to the audience before the actors utter a single word (εἴ γε πρῶτον οἱ λόγοι ὑπὸ τῶν θεατῶν εἰσιν ἐγνωρισμένοι, πρὶν καί τιν’ εἰπεῖν, vv. 1– 4).⁷⁵ The poet discusses the structure and composition of comedy and thus of his own play using metaphorical vocabulary from critical analysis. Lines 19 – 21 are noteworthy for their reflection of contemporary critical language: κἄπειτα τὰ διῳκημένα πρότερον, τὰ νῦν παρόντα, τὴν καταστροφήν, τὴν εἰσβολήν (“what happened before, the present situation, the catastrophe, the opening of the play”).⁷⁶ Antiphanes’ contemporary Aristotle uses somewhat different vocabulary for his otherwise similar discussion of the plot and structure of tragedy in his Poetics 9, 17 and 18.⁷⁷ The issue of naming the characters was apparently a significant topic. Tragic playwrights use the names from traditional myths (ἐπὶ δὲ τῆς τραγῳδίας τῶν γενομένων ὀνομάτων ἀντέχονται, Arist. Poet. 9.1451b14– 15), says Aristotle. Whilst Antiphanes’ character exaggerates claims that the tragic playwright has just to remind a name (ὥσθ’ ὑπομνῆσαι μόνον δεῖ τὸν ποιητήν, vv. 4– 5), Aristotle argues that in some tragedies there are only one or two recognisable names (ἐν ταῖς τραγῳδίαις ἐν ἐνίαις μὲν ἓν ἢ δύο τῶν γνωρίμων ἐστὶν

 See Handley 1985, 411– 413; Konstantakos 2004; Zimmermann 2020, 25 – 26; Olson 2022, 337– 348. Cf. also Timocles’ comedy Dionysiazousai where the focus is women involved in the process of theatrical performance in some way. Fr. 6 PCG in particular alludes to the didactic effects of tragedy performance (vv. 5 – 9). See the discussion on Timocles’ parody of the theory of tragedy in Rosen 2012. See also Apostolakis 2019, 52– 67.  See Roselli 2011, 52– 53. The claim recalls Aristophanes’ self-referential statement on the difficulty of composing comedy in his Knights: κωμῳδοδιδασκαλίαν εἶναι χαλεπώτατον ἔργον ἁπάντων (Ar. Eq. 516). For the opposite opinion, that composing tragedy is harder than composing a comedy, see Isocrates’ Helen: “it is more toilsome to be solemn than to jest (τὸ σεμνύνεσθαι τοῦ σκώπτειν) and to be serious than to play” (τὸ σπουδάζειν τοῦ παίζειν, Isoc. 10, 11). Cf. Arist. EN 10, 6, 6, 1176b: σπουδάζειν δὲ καὶ πονεῖν παιδιᾶς χάριν ἠλίθιον φαίνεται καὶ λίαν παιδικόν. παίζειν δ’ ὅπως σπουδάζῃ, κατ’ ᾿Aνάχαρσιν, ὀρθῶς ἔχειν δοκεῖ. On the history of this opposition, see especially Silk 2000, 54– 56.  For the ’opening’ of Simonides’ ode, Plato says τὸ πρῶτον τοῦ ᾄσματος (Pl. Prtg. 343c). Aristophanes’ Frogs notably contains the term πρόλογος (vv. 1119, 1177, 1181, 1197, 1200, 1210, 1216, 1228, 1230, 1246).  Cf. also Aristotle’s discussion of a well-structured plot “The whole is what contains a beginning, a middle, and an end” (ὅλον δέ ἐστιν τὸ ἔχον ἀρχὴν καὶ μέσον καὶ τελευτήν, Arist. Poet. 7.1450b25 – 26), with a further definition of each part. See Lucas 1968, 111, Belfiore 1992, 111– 112, 132– 160, and Bernays 2006.

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ὀνομάτων), and the others are made up (τὰ δὲ ἄλλα πεποιημένα). Some tragedies, such as Agathon’s Antheus contain no familiar names, and both the plot and the names are made up (ἐν τούτῳ τά τε πράγματα καὶ τὰ ὀνόματα πεποίηται, Arist. Poet. 9.1451b19 – 22). The playwright should use both available myths and made-up stories (τούς τε λόγους καὶ τοὺς πεποιημένους) in order to structure his play in general (δεῖ καὶ αὐτὸν ποιοῦντα ἐκτίθεσθαι καθόλου), and further he should go on developing episodes (εἶθ’ οὕτως ἐπεισοδιοῦν καὶ παρατείνειν, Arist. Poet. 17.1455a34– 36).⁷⁸ Furthermore, every tragedy contains a plot complication (τὸ μὲν δέσις) and a plot unravelling (τὸ δὲ λύσις), says Aristotle. ‘Plot complication’ denotes all events from the beginning of the story to the point just before the change in the hero’s fortunes (τὴν ἀπ’ ἀρχῆς μέχρι τούτου τοῦ μέρους ὃ ἔσχατόν ἐστιν ἐξ οὗ μεταβαίνει εἰς εὐτυχίαν ἢ εἰς ἀτυχίαν), whilst ‘plot unravelling’ denotes all the changes/transitions from beginning to end (τὴν ἀπὸ τῆς ἀρχῆς τῆς μεταβάσεως μέχρι τέλους, Arist. Poet. 18.1455b24– 29). It is noteworthy that both designations are spatial-orientational metaphors taken from verbs of movement. What is called ‘dramatic culmination’ (καταστροφή) by Antiphanes corresponds particularly to the Aristotelian terms for “change”. Περιπέτεια is a specific type of such change, which Aristotle defined as ‘a change from what is done into its opposite’ (Ἔστι δὲ περιπέτεια μὲν ἡ εἰς τὸ ἐναντίον τῶν πραττομένων μεταβολή, Arist. Poet. 11.1452a22– 23). Further “transition” and “development” (ὃ ἔσχατόν ἐστιν ἐξ οὗ μεταβαίνει) are used elsewhere in the Poetics: “the stages of tragedy’s development” (αἱ μὲν οὖν τῆς τραγῳδίας μεταβάσεις, Arist. Poet. 5.1449a36 – 37).⁷⁹ This μετάβασις recalls Protagoras’ use of the verb μεταβαίνω in his interpretation of Homer’s narrative transition from the heroic battlefield to the battle between the gods (ἵν’ εἰς τὴν θ̣ ε̣ ομ[αχία]ν̣ μεταβῆ, DK80 A30 = Schol. vet. Il. 21.240 = Pap. Oxy. 221.2.68 Grenfell-Hunt). We do not know whether Aristotle’s lectures on poetics and Antiphanes’ comedy relate to each other intertextually. It is quite likely – as for example is the case with Aristophanes and Gorgias – that both authors knew about each other’s work. There is no clear evidence from Antiphanes’ text that he was quoting Aristotle verbatim. However, it is evident that text structure was a wellknown current debated topic, one that Antiphanes’ audience was supposed to comprehend and react to in the theatre. Antiphanes’ fragment 189 PCG should thus be considered in the context of contemporary and later criticism of tragedy  The plot and effect of tragedy hinted in Antiphanes vv. 8 – 16 are analysed in Poetics 14 1453b. See the further discussion of the passage from Poetics 9 below in chapter 8, pp. 204– 205.  On μετάβασις and other Aristotle’s words to express ‘transition’ in the plot, see Lucas 1968, 89 and 115. See also f. 108 below.

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and can usefully be examined in light of the opposition between comedy and tragedy and the function of tragedy in the fourth century literary canon.⁸⁰ As in Old Comedy, the interweaving of contemporary discourses on criticism with the work and thoughts of the comic poet helped foster innovation. Only fragments survive from Middle Comedy and the plots cannot be reconstructed. Antiphanes’ fragment 189 PCG remains significant primarily as a reflection of contemporary discourses that inquired into the role and function of the comic genre. Similarly, only a few titles and scanty fragments survive from the considerable number of fourth century BCE scholarly treatises on tragedy and comedy as genres and on specific authors. We cannot even be sure that these titles are genuine and provided by the authors themselves. Nonetheless, these provide sufficient evidence for the rich and multi-layered development of fourth century BCE literary criticism. Thus, Heraclides of Pontus wrote his treatise Περὶ τῶν τριῶν τραγῳδοποιῶν (TrGF 4 T151), the title presupposing that there were only three (important) tragic playwrights.⁸¹ Aristotle’s successor Theophrastus wrote Περὶ κωμῳδίας (Fr. 666 FHSG), and added mime to the three traditional forms of dramatic poetry.⁸² Dicaearchus of Messana composed works on musical contests and dramatic productions (Frr. 89 – 91, 99 – 104 Mirhady). Chamaeleon of Heraclea Pontica worked on texts about drama, authored books about satyr plays, and wrote about Thespis, Aeschylus and comedy (Frr. 15 – 47 Martano).⁸³ Aristoxenus composed a work

 For more, see Konstantakos 2004, 11– 13, 21– 30, 54; on further criticism of comedy by Alexis, Xenarchus, Philippides and other comic poets of the 4th century, see Konstantakos 2004, 30 – 35 and Wright 2013.  Wright 2020, 90 – 91. The fifth century BCE is obscure. Almost nothing is known about the content of Sophocles’ prose work Περὶ τοῦ χοροῦ attested in the Suda lemma dedicated to the poet (Suid. σ 815 Adler s.v. Σοφοκλῆς = Soph. T 2.7 TrGF ἔγραψεν … λόγον καταλογάδην περὶ τοῦ χοροῦ): what the term χορός indicated here precisely – among the (non-mutually exclusive) possibilities: the function, the dance, the movements, the members, the lyrical odes of the dramatic chorus – is destined to remain in doubt. See Bagordo 1998, 11– 12, according to whom this “bemerkenswertes Einzelwerk” dealt with a number of specific issues of stage technique; Tyrrell 2006, 167, who favours the view that χορός in the title of the treatise “is an ’official term’ for tragedy”, and thus that “Sophocles’ treatise would have covered all aspects of tragedy”; Kitzinger 2012, 385 n. 1, for whom instead the treatise was devoted to the chorus, an aspect in which Sophocles had a particular interest (as is also shown by his increase in the number of choruses from 12 to 15).  Frr. 708, 709 FHSG, see Fortenbaugh 2005, 351– 375. On early scholarship on comedy, see Lowe 2013.  On Chamaeleon’s critical methodology and on his work on tragedy and Homeric epic, see Mirhady 2012. See also Bagordo 1998, 26 – 27.

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Περὶ τραγῳδοποιῶν.⁸⁴ Some extant fragments from his lost writings on the subject of choruses or tragic dance reveal an interest in drama, including a discussion of the dances appropriate to various dramatic genres: Περὶ χορῶν (fr. 103 Wehrli), Περὶ τραγικῆς ὀρχήσεως (frr. 104– 106 Wehrli, perhaps also frr. 107– 108 Wehrli, Συγκρίσεις (fr. 109 Wehrli, perhaps also frr. 110 – 112 Wehrli). The considerable number of these lost works point to critical engagement with dramatic performance and dramatic texts on a theoretical level. Aristotle’s analysis of tragedy should then perhaps be viewed as a protruding peak, with the huge iceberg of fourth century BCE critical thought hidden beneath.

4.3 Genre classification in other contemporary texts Genre is an essential marker of the tradition into which poets seek to write their names. Literary genre undergoes constant revolution, as individual authors must interrupt the continuity of genre by reforming it, thus forming new hybridisations of inherited elements. In earlier Greece, public demonstration of poetic production connected the individual author to the performative context and to society at large. Awareness of their own genre as well as others, indicates that authors intentionally chose the genres in which he composed.⁸⁵ From the outset, a genre was naturally associated with a particular author, and therefore a particular name (the well-known sphragis).⁸⁶ The genre was announced with rich perceptual sensory-motor details, seen, sung and heard. In the programmatic proem of the Theogony, the poet Hesiod introduces himself and his poem in such terms: the Muses “once taught Hesiod beautiful song”

 Frr. 11– 32, 47– 68, 113 – 117 Wehrli. Note a linguistic explanation on the meaning of the verbal forms ῥύεσθαι (explained by Aristoxenus as ἐκ θανάτου ἕλκειν) and ἐρύεσθαι (as φυλάττειν) in fr. 113. See also Podlecki 1969, 118 – 119. On Aristoxenus’ methodology in writing biographies, see Schorn 2012. See also Barker 2012 and Gibson 2005, 110.  Issues of genre awareness and generic conceptualisation in ancient Greek literature has been analysed thoroughly in recent decades. See Nagy 1994– 1995 and Ford 2019, 58 – 59 and 71– 72. See also Farrell 2003 and two recent Brill volumes of collected papers by Foster, Kurke and Weiss 2019 and by Currie and Rutherford 2020 with detailed bibliography. On early generic play, ’generification’ and Homer’s allusion to two different accounts of the generic origins of Linus’ song embedded in Iliad 18, see Ford 2019. On the evolvement of most lyric genres and their designations in the Late Archaic period, see Meletinskij e.a. 1994 and Ford 2006b, 279 – 283 and Maslov 2015. On the conflict of historical and theoretical approaches to the concept of genre, see Bartol 2020, 129 – 130 and Rotstein 2012, 98 – 99. See more generally Farrell 2003, Depew and Obbink 2000, and Foster, Kurke and Weiss 2019.  See Averintsev 1994.

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(αἵ νύ ποθ’ Ἡσίοδον καλὴν ἐδίδαξαν ἀοιδήν, Hes. Th. 22). Alcman, our earliest representative of Greek choral lyrics, establishes his genre likewise: “these words and this music Alcman invented” (ϝέπη τάδε καὶ μέλος ᾿Aλκμὰν εὗρε, fr. 39 PMGF). Hecataeus of Miletus set his new prose genre in opposition to traditional mythography: “this is how Hecataeus of Miletus speaks” (Ἑκαταῖος Μιλήσιος ὧδε μυθεῖται, fr. 1a FGrHist 1).⁸⁷ Genres have an experiential dimension in relation to their arrangement, with singing (ἀοιδήν), speaking (ϝέπη τάδε, μυθεῖται), hearing (μέλος), seeing and deictic shifting (τάδε, ὧδε) involved in the process of perception. In the same spirit, when Pindar purports to attack the iambic poet of the past, Archilochus, by name, he is actually attacking the genre of iambic poetry itself: “for standing at a far remove I have seen Archilochus the blamer in great trouble when fattening himself on heavy-worded hatreds” (εἶδον γὰρ ἑκὰς ἐὼν τὰ πόλλ’ ἐν ἀμαχανίᾳ ψογερὸν ᾿Aρχίλοχον βαρυλόγοις ἔχθεσιν πιαινόμενον, Pind. Pyth. 2.54– 55).⁸⁸ Names thus become ciphers for genres, and the relationship between them can be articulated in spatial-orientational terms: Pindar has seen (εἶδον) Archilochus, “standing far off” (ἑκὰς ἐὼν), whilst Archilochus “fattened himself/enlarged” (πιαινόμενον) with “heavy-worded hatreds” (βαρυλόγοις ἔχθεσιν). The most important evidence for the early Greek classification of melic genres is Pindar’s third Dirge, which also bears witness to the terms of reference current in early literary criticism.⁸⁹ “In due season there are paean-songs (ἀοιδαί παιάνιδες) that belong to the children of Leto with the golden distaff; there are also songs… for Dionysos’ crown of flourishing ivy… Bromios… stricken… (θάλλοντος ἐκ κισσοῦ στεφάνων Διο[νύσου ο[ βρομι ? παιόμεναι)… One sang ailinon for long-haired Linos (ἁ μὲν ἀχέταν Λίνον αἴλινον ὕμνει); another sang of Hymenaios (ἁ δ’ Ὑμέναιον), caught in the closing music (ἐσχάτοις ὕμνων) at night when first touched in marriage; and another sang of Ialemos (ἁ δ’ Ἰάλεμον), whose strength was fettered by flesh-rending disease; and the son of Oiagros (υἱὸν Οἰάγρου)… Orpheus of the golden lyre (Ὀρφέα χρυσάορα, Pind. Thrēnoi fr. 128c S-M). The text lists five or possibly six kinds of poetic performance which remain melic genres in later literary theory: paeans, dithyrambs, marriage songs, and two or three varieties of dirges/funereal songs (θρῆνοι). The narrative is related in spatial, temporal, sensory and emotional terms, the percipient thus reliving    lov

On early Greek prose treatises, see Cambiano 1992. Spelman 2018, 261– 264. Other references to genre in Pindar include Pyth. 4, 176 – 177; frs. 31, 71, 85, 115 S-M. See Mas2015, 65; West III 2015, 64; Spelman 2018, 255 – 260. See also Calame 1974.

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somatically the history of melic genres. Here again, as with the case of the iambic Archilochus, personal names serve for Pindar as the principal means of designating a genre. Pindar personifies genres as songs (ἀοιδαί) that sound in praise to the eponymous god or hero. In the case of Linus and Orpheus, these are also names of the inventor of the genre. For the choral song διθύραμβος, two different versions of its history were known in the fifth century BCE; Pindar evokes nonliterary cult songs in honour of Dionysus, whilst Bacchylides looks forward to the narrative dithyrambs of Classical Athens.⁹⁰ Herodotus considers Arion to be “the first who composed and named the dithyramb and taught it in Corinth” (καὶ διθύραμβον πρῶτον ἀνθρώπων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν ποιήσαντά τε καὶ ὀνομάσαντα καὶ διδάξαντα ἐν Κορίνθῳ, Hdt. 1.23).⁹¹ This tradition was picked up by Attic comedy, which embodied the names of other poets for their generic identities. Comic titles of the lost (and we can only imagine what experiential metaphors were used there for poets!) comedies such as Cratinus’ Archilochoi, Telecleides’ Hesiodoi, Ameipsias’ Sapphō, Strattis’ Kinesias, Alexis’ Archilochos and Cleoboulinē, Nicostratus’ Hesiodus, Amphis’ Sappho, Antiphanes’ Sapphō, Ephippus’ Sapphō, Timocles’ Sapphō and Diphilus’ Sapphō remain enigmatic, and we do not have sufficient information on the role of the title which the poets accorded their plays and its relationship to the plot. These personified titles would however have conveyed messages to the audience, messages often associated with their generic activity.⁹² Though the individual author does appear to supersede genre, a consciousness of genres is evident by the sixth century BCE and is quite pronounced by the fifth century BCE. Another obscure figure from the last quarter of the sixth and early fifth century BCE should be mentioned in this context. Lasus of Hermione, briefly referenced above, is credited with having contributed to the development of scholarly thought.⁹³ Known to have been active in Athens during the reign of the Peisistratids, Pseudo-Plutarch’s On music (a late Neoplatonic dialogue) credits him with

 Maslov 2015, 65 – 66 and Fearn 2007, 163 – 181. On the origins and function of the genre dithyramb, see Zimmermann 22008 (11992); Kowalzig and Wilson 2013 with further bibliography; LeVen 2014, 60 – 62.  Cf. schol. Pind. Ol. 13.26b. The earliest evidence on the dithyramb is an obscure fragment of Archilochus which – though its form is not dithyrambic – states that the poets know “how to lead off the dithyramb of lord Dionysus” (fr. 121 IEG).  On the titles of the lost plays, see Sommerstein 2002. See also Arnott 1996, 112– 114 and 293 – 294.  Porter 2010, 371– 373. See also Privitera 1965, Brussich 2000, and Ercoles 2017, 132– 134. On Lasus’ connection with Onomacritus, see Martin 2018, 102– 104.

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innovations in the dithyramb hymn. By changing the rhythms of the dithyrambic movement (εἰς τὴν διθυραμβικὴν ἀγωγὴν μεταστήσας τοὺς ῥυθμούς), says the author, by following the polyphony of the flutes (τῇ τῶν αὐλῶν πολυφωνίᾳ κατακολουθήσας) and by using more and more diverse sounds (πλείοσί τε φθόγγοις καὶ διερριμμένοις χρησάμενος), Lasus altered the pre-existing music (εἰς μετάθεσιν τὴν προϋπάρχουσαν ἤγαγε μουσικήν, Ps.-Plut. Mus. 1141c). Herodotus reported that Lasus exposed Onomacritus’ forgeries of the oracles of Musaeus (Hdt. 7.6.3 – 5). In some sources Lasus is said to have been Pindar’s teacher. Lasus, rather than Arion, is mentioned here as the first organiser of dithyrambic choruses positioned in a circle (The Schol. Ar. Av. 1403).⁹⁴ The Marmor Parium sets the date of the first performance of dithyrambs to 509 – 508 BCΕ; Lasus probably introduced dithyrambic competitions to Athens under the tyrants, and the Marmor Parium dates his first victory to after democracy had been established. Lasus is claimed to have been himself a composer and promoter of this genre (διθύραμβον εἰς ἀγῶνα εἰσήγαγε, Sud. L139). Aristophanes mentions that Lasus appeared in a choral contest (probably in dithyrambs) against Simonides (Λᾶσός ποτ’ ἀντεδίδασκε καὶ Σιμωνίδης, Ar. Vesp. 1410). Like Simonides, Lasus had a reputation as a proto-sophist due to his fondness for wordplay and his abilities in debating.⁹⁵ Furthermore, Lasus is credited with having written texts on music. A work on music by Lasus is mentioned in the Suda (L136: πρῶτος δὲ οὗτος περὶ μουσικῆς λόγον ἔγραψε).⁹⁶ However, the word λόγος (and thus the genre associated with it) remains highly questionable for Lasus and his time, and in all probability any text of his on music was only called περὶ μουσικῆς λόγος by the later tradition. We simply do not know the genre in which he composed.⁹⁷ Solo performance of lyric (monody) with self-accompaniment on a string instrument can be contrasted with the innovative practice of composition in elegiacs accompanied by a flute-player. The genre seems to have already existed in Archaic times and was mainly associated with funerals and so with the genre θρῆνος. The term however only appeared in the fifth century BCE due to

 On circular choruses see Franklin 2013, Ceccarelli 2013b, D’Angour 2013, 202– 206. On Lasus’ link with dithyramb through the mystery cults of Demeter and Dionysus, see Prauscello 2013.  LeVen 2014, 81– 83.  Privitera 1965, 38 – 46; Brussich 2000, 67– 70; Ercoles 2017, 133 – 134. See also West 1992, 225 – 226, 233 – 235.  Cf. obscure late evidence that Simonides wrote a work entitled Ἄτακτοι λόγοι (fr. 653 PMG = ὁ Σιμωνίδης ἐν τοῖς λόγοις, οὓς ᾿Aτάκτους ἐπιγράφει).

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the characteristic metre of ἔλεγος/ ἐλεγεῖον (“melody, song”).⁹⁸ The elegiac form was a paradigmatic case of Archaic literary production; it preserved the priority of epic as a literary form while bringing the genre into a transformed socio-political context. Iambic abuse played an important role on the literary stage. Apart from Archilochus and Hipponax and their religious festival and cultic context, iambs became the principal metre of the spoken parts of Attic drama, as opposed to sung metres or the sub-melic dactylic hexameter and elegiac couplet. Iamboi might imply Ionian or certain Sicilian forms referring to rhythm, composition, and performance (cf. Athen. 5.181c). An example of what can be termed ‘literary criticism’ in Epicharmus is his evaluation with technical terminology of the poet Aristoxenus’ innovative techniques. The speaker in this corrupt fragment seems to be discussing metric or performative issues (Epich. fr. 77 PCG): οἱ τοὺς ἰάμβους καὶ τὸν †ἄριστον τρόπον, ὃν πρᾶτος εἰσαγήσαθ’ Ὡριστόξενος who the iamboi and the † best way/style/mode, which Aristoxenus was the first to introduce

All we know about Aristoxenus of Selinus is what we learn from this fragment of Epicharmus and the context of this quotation; it is quoted by Hephaestion in his discussion of the anapaestic metre. Epicharmus, says Hephaestion, wrote two plays in anapaest. The poet Aristoxenus of Selinus, who was older than Epicharmus (᾿Aριστόξενος δὲ ὁ Σελινούντιος Ἐπιχάρμου πρεσβύτερος ἐγένετο ποιητής), also wrote in this metre. Epicharmus is said to have referred to Aristoxenus in his play Logos kai Logina (fr. 77 PCG), and some anapaest verses by Aristoxenus are recalled by Hephaestion (καὶ τούτου τοίνυν τοῦ ᾿Aριστοξένου μνημονεύεταί τινα τούτῳ τῷ μέτρῳ γεγραμμένα, Heph. Ench. 8, 2 – 3 Consbruch).⁹⁹ The spatial ‘introducing’ (εἰσαγήσαθ’) in Epicharmus’ verse might imply both invention and adoption of something from elsewhere.¹⁰⁰ Again, the genre has to be embodied

 Bartol 2020, 131– 139. See also Maslov 2015, 70 – 71 and Bartol 1993, 18 – 30 on the ancient terminology, and West 1974, 7.  See a stimulating discussion of this fragment in Rotstein 2010, 213 – 221. See also Conti Bizzarro 1999, 27– 29 and Bosher 2021, 29 and 136. On the discussion of the designation ἰάμβος, see Dover 1987 and Bowie 2001b, 1– 7.  For the parallel of such ‘introducing’ (εἰσηγέομαι) cf. Hdt. 2.49 and Rotstein 2010, 217– 218. In Aristophanes’ Frogs, Euripides claims to be such an innovator: τοιαῦτα μέντοὐγὼ φρονεῖν τούτοισιν εἰσηγησάμην (Ar. Ra. 971– 972). The real Euripides used the verb εἰσάγω of the music of Amphion in a similar way: κακῶν κατάρχεις τήνδε μοῦσαν εἰσάγων (Eur. Antiopē fr. 183 TrGF). See Billings 2021, 190 – 192.

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and associated with a particular person: Aristoxenus is called to introduce the iamb, as Hesiod, Alcman, Hecataeus and others did before him. It is not clear however what the term iamboi means here: implied are either Ionian or some Sicilian forms of iamboi, but whether they are forms of rhythm, composition or performance remains undetermined.¹⁰¹ A term related to iambos is mentioned by Epicharmus in a more ‘material’ context in the comedy Periallos. Epicharmus refers to the citharodic nome pariambis (fr. 108 PCG). The text is corrupt, but some poet or person skilled in the cithara (σοφός) seems to be piping pariambides as an accompaniment to Semele’s dance (Σεμέλα δὲ χορεύει· / καὶ ὑπαυλεῖ σφιν † σοφὸς κιθάραι παριαμβίδας). The explanations provided by later lexicographers draw no clear distinction between iambos and pariambis. ¹⁰² Returning to Epicharmus’ assessment of Aristoxenus’ innovations, the meaning of the term τρόπος (style as in a musical style?) in this context remains unclear.¹⁰³ In the second century CE Vienna papyrus fragment from Epicharmus’ Odysseus Automolos, a scholiast mentions a certain Aristoxenus: ]ρατω.[ ]υακ( ) ὁ ᾿Aριϲτόξενοϲ [ (P. Vindob. 2328, 4 = fr. 83 CGFP = Epich. fr. 97 PCG). ¹⁰⁴ The issue as to whether this refers to our poet from Selinus, or the fourth century BCE scholar from Tarentum who wrote on Epicharmus, or even some other Aristoxenus, must remain open. Aristoxenus remains tantalisingly obscure. To conclude the question of Epicharmus’ concern with the iambos, the iambos developed in a Sicilian context. It had its own specific forms and its own terminology for these forms. The comic playwright examined the relationship between the genres of comedy and iambos, with his curiosity concerning the iambos part of a broader inquisitiveness concerning the nature of comicality itself.¹⁰⁵

 On the Sicilian context of the iamboi cf. Athenaeus’ statement on the diversity of Greek music with Athenians preferring Dionysiac (dramatic) and cyclic (dithyrambic) choruses, whilst the Syracusans preferred iambic dancers (Athen. 5.181c: καθόλου δὲ διάφορος ἦν ἡ μουσικὴ παρὰ τοῖς Ἕλλησι, τῶν μὲν ᾿Aθηναίων τοὺς Διονυσιακοὺς χοροὺς καὶ τοὺς κυκλίους προτιμώντων, Συρακοσίων δὲ τοὺς ἰαμβιστάς).  See the discussion with examples in in Brown 1997, 37– 38; see also Rotstein 2010, 234– 240.  See Pöhlmann 2011, 21; Barker 2014, 97; Ercoles 2017, 144. On the similar pattern of a “new manner” (᾿Aλκιβιάδην νέοισιν ὑμνήσας τρόποις), see Critias fr. 4 IEG and the discussion p. 127.  See Cassio 1985, 46 n. 31. See also Napolitano 2020.  See Rosen 1988, Bowie 2002 and Rosen 2013 with further bibliography. The terms referring to iamb appear in early comic or satyr-play texts. Apart from Epicharmus’ references cf. also: ἰαμβίς in Aeschylus Isthmiastae ē Theōroi fr. 81 TrGF, ἰαμβύκη in Eupolis’ Heilotes fr. 148 PCG, ἴαμβος in Aristophanes’ Frogs 661, ἰαμβεῖον in Aristophanes’ Frogs 1133, 1204. On Critias fr. 4

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Genres were initially distinguished according to the external performative context, even if the term ‘genre’ itself had not been introduced.¹⁰⁶ Isocrates in his Antidosis presents a list of prose genres, which are “no fewer than poems in verse” (οὐκ ἐλάττους ἢ τῶν μετὰ μέτρου ποιημάτων): genealogies of the demi-gods (τὰ γένη τὰ τῶν ἡμιθέων… τὸν βίον τὸν αὑτῶν), studies in the poets (περὶ τοὺς ποιητὰς), histories of wars (τὰς πράξεις τὰς ἐν τοῖς πολέμοις), and dialogues (περὶ τὰς ἐρωτήσεις καὶ τὰς ἀποκρίσεις, Isocr. Ant. 45). The genre division was further defined by Plato on two levels; on the level of generic form he distinguishes between dramatic and narrative composition, whereas on the level of solemn content he discusses affinities between genres such as that between (heroic) epic and tragic genres when he metonymically calls Homer master of tragedy (τραγῳδίας δὲ Ὅμηρος, Pl. Tht. 152e).¹⁰⁷ In his Poetics Aristotle builds on this analysis by Plato. Within the same (ἐν τοῖς αὐτοῖς) media (like Homer in his epic) two modes, dramatic and narrative, can be combined, either in an invariable narrative voice (ὡς τὸν αὐτὸν καὶ μὴ μεταβάλλοντα) or by direct enactment of all roles (πάντας ὡς πράττοντας καὶ ἐνεργοῦντας, Arist. Poet. 3.1448a19 – 23).¹⁰⁸ Aristotle also expands on Plato’s distinction of genres by discussing the level of form and content. In order to understand a tragedy, one has to consider it in relation to (heroic) epic, argues Aristotle, and also to comedy. In the first comparison the solemn content and style are similar, in the second the dramatic form is the same (Arist. Poet. 26.1461b26 – 1462b19). Here Aristotle introduces his much-discussed genealogical relationships between genres, with mock-heroic epics being to comedy (ὁ γὰρ Μαργίτης ἀνάλογον ἔχει), what heroic epics are to tragedies (ὥσπερ Ἰλιὰς καὶ ἡ Ὀδύσσεια πρὸς τὰς τραγῳδίας, Arist. Poet. 4.1448b33 – 1449a6).¹⁰⁹ The generic discourse in comedy was thus a natural part of the ongoing process of the development of genre theories. In this chapter I have shown that comedy also contributed in a modest way particularly to this process. The

IEG see p. 127. See Novokhatko 2015a, 74– 75. For iambic patterns in Aristophanes’ comedy, see Zanetto 2001.  See Silk 2000, 64– 69 and Carey 2009. On generic discourses of the last third of the fifth century BCE, see Rossi 1971 and Rosenmeyer 2006. See Dosi 1968 and Sier 2000 on tragedy in Gorgias. On tragedy as the earliest genre to be theorised, see also Most 2000, 18 – 22.  See also Pl. Rep. 392c-395a and Nagy 2020. See also Ford 2002, 258 – 261. On the complex question of the mimetic or diegetic genre of the Sokratikoi (Dia)Logoi in Plato and Aristotle, see Ford 2010.  On the marked pre-Arestotelian use of the metatheatrical term μεταβολή in Euripides, see Ruch 2021, 172– 173. See also f. 79 above.  Else 1963, 124– 182; Dupont-Roc & Lallot 1980, 168 – 169; Halliwell 1986, 92– 94, 253 – 285; Halliwell 1987, 78 – 84; Guastini 2010, 134– 151; Schmitt 2011, 268 – 304.

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personified embodiment of genres as well as their representation onstage through motifs including blind epic and salted iamb, comedy and tragedy represented as women with whom poets have intercourse, tragic and comic choruses with costumes and masks moving in dance, trumping, singing, speaking, breathing, crying and laughing – this vivid burlesque as experienced by the whole theatrical space including the author, the performers and the audience led to a somatically perceived crystallisation and classification of specific genres. Finally, a striking aspect of the generic flexibility of drama was its unprecedented experimentation with a mishmash of media, what we can call ‘experiential dramatic intermediality’.¹¹⁰ Every variety of somatic and sensory experience, such as dance and song, poetry, music, painting, technological skill, every type of ritual form, was potential for drama’s vast, all-embracing marriage of the arts, and for its dialogue between the various languages of speech, movement, music and the visual. Through this dramatic intermediality, genres began to reflect on one another on the dramatic stage. Criticism and professional criticism thus grew, while professional terms were coined and fixed.¹¹¹

 On the notion, see Rajewsky 2002. See also Gagné 2013, 297. On ‘transgressions’ of genres in Athenian theatre, analysed by Plato and Aristotle, see Nagy 1989, 66 – 67. For more on Euripides as critic, see Wright 2010.  On comedy engaged with literary criticism, see Conti Bizzarro 1999 and Wright 2012. On tragedy with this function, see Wright 2010.

Chapter 5 Striding in metre It is evident that metre is a physical and experiential concept. Its origins are found in dance, stepping one foot in front of another, and in rhythm, activating auditory, somatic and sensory parameters. The theatrical performance was thus a natural environment where these parameters could be seen in action, with bodily movement from the part of the performers and the active acoustic and visual reception from the part of the audience engaging directly in the conversation about metre.¹ This chapter discusses the uses of metric terms such as ‘trimeter’, ‘hexameter’, ‘dactyl’ and ‘anapaest’ in comedy. Here I suggest that vivid dancing on stage and dramatic performance of the theoretical debates on metre in plays such as Aristophanes’ Clouds contributed to the development of the later theoretical terminology.

5.1 Weapon dance on the flute Epicharmus in his Mousai is credited with using the term ἐνόπλιος to reference the goddess Athena in the context of martial performance: Athena accompanied the Dioscuri by playing a certain “in-armour” (a dancing with weapons) on (the instrument we conventionally call) the flute (᾿Aθηνᾶν δέ φησιν Ἐπίχαρμος ἐπαυλῆσαι τοῖς Διοσκούροις τὸν ἐνόπλιον, Epich. fr. 92 PCG). What was this dance that Athena was playing on the flute? The term ἐνόπλιος is found in Pindar’s Olympian 13 when Bellerophon mounted the horse’s back and, armoured in bronze, began to exercise/play a ’martial rhythm’ ἐνόπλια χαλκωθεὶς ἔπαιζεν (Pind. Ol. 13.87). The verb ἔπαιζεν here suggests that from the beginning the word ἐνόπλιον belonged to the world of martial performance, with Bellerophon performing on horseback after having tamed Pegasus. In both Epicharmus and Pindar, the verbs ἔπαιζεν and ἐπαυλῆσαι, used alongside ἐνόπλιος, determine the performative context including a whole range of visual, auditory, bodily, and sensory perceptual details.² Originating from the field of music, this

 On the effect of metric patterns in poetry and the responses of the recipients’ sensory-motor system to the performance of drama, see Meineck 2018, 181– 185. On chronological development of ancient theories of metre and rhythm, see Neumaier 1989.  Flute-playing is frequently connected with military performance (cf. Vulci cup (Louvre G136) attributed to the Eucharides Painter, ca. 490 BCE). On iconographic evidence for martial dance, see Poursat 1968, Lonsdale 1993, 142– 148, and Ceccarelli 1998, 239 – 251. On the strong emotional connotations of the aulos with its expressive voice, see Meineck 2018, 157– 162. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-008

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rhythm had military associations, perhaps implying organised and steady forward-walking similar to marching. ἐνόπλιος also occurs in Aristophanes’ Clouds where both musical and geometrical terms μέτρον and ῥυθμός are used in a discussion of the theory of poetry.³ The passage Ar. Nu. 636 – 655 is deliberately overflowing with the terminology of metrical studies, such as περὶ μέτρων ἢ περὶ ἐπῶν ἢ ῥυθμῶν (638), περὶ τῶν μέτρων (639), κάλλιστον μέτρον (641), τὸ τρίμετρον ἢ τὸ τετράμετρον (642), τετράμετρον (645), περὶ ῥυθμῶν (647), οἱ ῥυθμοὶ (648) and τῶν ῥυθμῶν κατ’ ἐνόπλιον, κατὰ δάκτυλον (650 – 651). Strepsiades integrates metres and rhythms in his speech. Tetrameter is for him a half-ἑκτεύς (v. 645). The ’sixth’ (ἑκτεύς) is similarly explained by an Aristophanic character in an unassigned fragment as a “measure containing six choinikes” (ἑκτεὺς δέ γ’ ἐστὶν ἑξαχοίνικον μέτρον, fr. 647 PCG). However, the appropriate embodiment achieves its peak when Socrates intends to teach “which rhythm goes according to enoplion and which according to dactyl” (ὁποῖός ἐστι τῶν ῥυθμῶν κατ’ ἐνόπλιον, χὠποῖος αὖ κατὰ δάκτυλον, vv. 650 – 651), and Strepsiades famously claims that he knows what the dactyl is like and holds up his middle finger with the deictic intensifier (οὑτοσί, v. 654). Both metre designations ἐνόπλιος and δάκτυλος were technical terms known to (a part of) the audience, although δάκτυλος has remained the term ’dactyl’ until today, whilst ἐνόπλιος fell out of use, and is barely reconstructable from contemporary parallels. Later writers employ it interchangeably with προσοδιακός.⁴ The scholiast suggests a detailed ’embodied’ explanation for κατ’ ἐνόπλιον: a kind of rhythm, which was danced, shaking the arms (εἶδος ῥυθμοῦ, πρὸς ὃν ὠρχοῦντο σείοντες τὰ ὅπλα, Sch. Nub. 651a RENMRsNp). ἐνόπλιος might have been mentioned by the fifth century BCE theorist of music and poetic metre Damon of Athens. Damon is credited with the theorising of metre; he first posited the foot, dividing it into two parts, and named many metres, which, according to Plato, he may have correlated with emotions or types of behaviour.⁵ Damon, so Plato tells us in his Republic, spoke of a certain rhythm that he called “in-armour” (οὐ σαφῶς ἐνόπλιόν τέ τινα ὀνομάζοντος αὐτοῦ), a composite (σύνθετον), a “finger” (δάκτυλον) and a heroic (ἡρῷόν), which he arranged to be equal up and down (ἴσον ἄνω καὶ κάτω τιθέντος) in the interchange of short and long (εἰς βραχύ τε καὶ μακρὸν γιγνόμενον, Pl.

 Ford 2001, 105 – 107.  Herkenrath 1906; Neumaier 1989, 64; Cole 2012.  On Damon’s metre studies, see Neumaier 1989, 21– 24; Wallace 2015, 23 – 49; on enoplios see also 142– 143.

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Rep. 3, 400b-c)”.⁶ As this passage from Plato’s Republic might suggest, Aristophanes was probably alluding to Damon’s (or his circle’s) music and metrical studies. The parallels in wording are significant. In both Aristophanes and Plato, it is Socrates (the intellectual voice) who explains Damon’s theory. Plato’s Damon uses the term ’composite’ rhythm for ἐνόπλιος (however, this is explained “unclearly”/οὐ σαφῶς). ἐνόπλιος is used in the same context in Aristophanes’ Clouds, alongside δάκτυλος.⁷ As Wallace explains, “the ’composite enoplion’ was the feminine hemiepes formed of two dactyls and one spondee, −uu −uu − , the acephalous form of the archilochean enoplion, or two feminine hemiepe, −uu −uu −−uu −uu −”.⁸ The context in which ’dactyl’ and ’enoplion’ might be juxtaposed, and the associations this juxtaposition might provoke in Aristophanes’ audience, remain obscure. Socrates is probably bombarding his interlocutor with new trendy terms known to sophisticated Athenians, but alien to many others. Plato continues thus: Damon named it “iamb”, and something else “trochee” (ἴαμβον καί τιν’ ἄλλον τροχαῖον ὠνόμαζε), and he added the quantities long and short (μήκη δὲ καὶ βραχύτητας προσῆπτε). And for some of these Damon criticised and praised (ψέγειν τε καὶ ἐπαινεῖν) the conduct of the foot (τὰς ἀγωγὰς τοῦ ποδὸς) no less than the rhythms themselves (οὐχ ἧττον ἢ τοὺς ῥυθμοὺς αὐτούς), or else some combination of the two (συναμφότερόν τι, Pl. Rep. 3, 400b-c). Plato examines the same vocabulary of metre and rhythm in the context of poetic composition and perception in his Laws. Perceptive people, he says, see all the confusions (πάντα κυκώμενα) created by the poets. The poets compose in the special medium of poetry and separate the rhythm/movement as well

 Cf. for ἐνόπλιος ῥυθμός men dancing in armour in Xen. Anab. 6.1.11: ἐν ῥυθμῷ πρὸς τὸν ἐνόπλιον ῥυθμὸν αὐλούμενοι καὶ ἐπαιάνισαν καὶ ὠρχήσαντο. On ’heroic’ measure/rhythm cf. also Arist. Rhet. 3. 8.1408b32 (τῶν δὲ ῥυθμῶν ὁ μὲν ἡρῷος σεμνῆς ἀλλ’ οὐ λεκτικῆς ἁρμονίας δεόμενος), Poet. 24, 1459b31– 34 (τὸ δὲ μέτρον τὸ ἡρωικὸν ἀπὸ τῆς πείρας ἥρμοκεν… τὸ γὰρ ἡρωικὸν στασιμώτατον καὶ ὀγκωδέστατον τῶν μέτρων ἐστίν) and Poet. 24, 1460a3 (ἐν ἄλλῳ πεποίηκεν ἢ τῷ ἡρῴῳ). See Lucas 1968, 224. Cf. also Callimachus’ paradigmatic verses on the division of poetry where the reading ’heroic’ (for epic hexameter) is however corrupt: σὺ πεντάμετρα συντίθει, σὺ δ̣ ’ η̣[ρῷο]ν (Call. Iamb. 13, fr. 203.31 Pfeiffer).  For a later explanation of ἐνόπλιος cf. Athen. 1.16a: καὶ ᾿Aρκάδες …ἀναστάντες ἐξοπλισάμενοι ᾔεσαν ἐν ῥυθμῷ πρὸς τὸν ἐνόπλιον ῥυθμὸν αὐλούμενοι καὶ ἐνωπλίσαντο καὶ ὠρχήσαντο (“The Arcadians got up in armour and marched in step with an enoplian metre playing the flute and they danced being armed”) and Athen. 14.630 f: πολεμικοὶ δ’ εἰσὶν οἱ Λάκωνες, ὧν καὶ οἱ υἱοὶ τὰ ἐμβατήρια μέλη ἀναλαμβάνουσιν, ἅπερ καὶ ἐνόπλια καλεῖται (“For the Spartans have a military spirit, and their sons memorise their marching songs which are called enoplia”).  Wallace 2015, 173.

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as the dance figures (ῥυθμὸν μὲν καὶ σχήματα).⁹ Without any melody, they put the bare words into measures (μέλους χωρὶς λόγους ψιλοὺς εἰς μέτρα τιθέντες) or, alternatively, they separate the melody as well as the rhythm (μέλος δ’ αὖ καὶ ῥυθμὸν). When not using words, they play the instrumental music of the cithara or the flute (ἄνευ ῥημάτων ψιλῇ κιθαρίσει τε καὶ αὐλήσει προσχρώμενοι), thus making it very difficult to recognise what is intended by way of the rhythm and the harmony (ῥυθμόν τε καὶ ἁρμονίαν γιγνώσκειν), and what is being imagined in the world of representations that would need to be expressed with words (τῶν ἀξιολόγων μιμημάτων, Pl. Leg. 2, 669d-e).¹⁰ Metre is here meant to measure rhythm/movement (ῥυθμός) and melody/melodic accentuation (μέλος). It is also far from clear whether metre and rhythm had been differentiated on a theoretical level during this period, with trimeter, tetrameter and hexameter belonging to ’metre’ whilst iamb,¹¹ trochee, dactyl and enoplion belonged to ’rhythm’.¹² Alan Sommerstein specified that ‘rhythms’ pertain to various types of metrical units on which a verse form may be based (such as iambic, dactylic etc.: cf. Ar. Nu. 650 – 651), and ‘measures’ to the numbers of such units that a verse can contain (cf. Ar. Nu. 642).¹³ It is however evident that at the end of the fifth century BCE, a theoretical classification of the metric and rhythmic patterns had in fact been attempted.

5.2 Measuring feet ’Metre’, a secondary meaning given to the important Archaic word for ’appropriateness’, had an earlier ethical sense as a word for ’measure’, or ’due measure’ (e. g. Od. 4.668, Hsd. Op. 694, Sol. 13.51– 52 IEG, Theogn. 873 – 876). Sophists owe much to the behaviour with which Archaic elites confirmed their excellence: it was this confirmation of excellence that led various Archaic evaluative terms such as πρέπον, καιρός, ἁρμονία, μέτρον, εὔσχημον to take on additional technical meanings in the course of the fifth century BCE.¹⁴ In the field of poetic performance and musical competitions, ‘measure’ referred to the musical arts (song accompanied by the cithara, instrumental perfor-

 On σχήματα see in particular Catoni 2005.  Cf. also Pl. Alc. 1.108c on the definition of mousike: ἡ τέχνη ἧς τὸ κιθαρίζειν καὶ τὸ ᾄδειν καὶ τὸ ἐμβαίνειν ὀρθῶς.  On the noun ἴαμβος used as a genre designation, see above p. 119 – 120.  See also Dover 1968, 178.  Sommerstein 1982, 195; Cole 1988, 10 – 11, 220 n. 9.  Ford 2002, 19 – 22, 44. See also Zanker 2019, 75 – 76.

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mance on the cithara, song accompanied by the flute, instrumental performance on the flute) and poetic performance (rhapsodes reciting epics without musical accompaniment). In fact, the concept and context of music remained crucial to the concept of metre. It is in the fifth century BCE that the word μέτρον is first found in its formal meaning, the ’measuring’ of poetic language or giving ’measure’ to poetic language, the main source for this process being Herodotus (1.174 and 1.12).¹⁵ The word μέτρον is one of the key words in several contemporary discourses –critical musical and poetic, but also broader, ethical and philosophical. It recalls Protagoras’ famous πάντων χρημάτων μέτρον ἄνθρωπον εἶναι.¹⁶ The spectrum of meanings attributed to the word is broad, including the art of measuring (ἡ μετρητικὴ τέχνη) as “a salvation of our life” (τίς ἂν ἡμῖν σωτηρία ἐφάνη τοῦ βίου; Pl. Prot. 356d) and also the measurement of the length of time required to pronounce syllables in quantitative Greek metrics. In the same spirit, Critias is known for having written a work titled Πολιτεῖαι ἔμμετροι, and also a fragment is preserved from an elegy where Alcibiades is praised “in a new manner” (νέοισιν ὑμνήσας τρόποις), “new manner” meaning perhaps the combination of elegy and iambics. The audience was supposed to understand this novelty where in the place of the expected pentameter Critias introduced an iambic trimeter. The name Alcibiades did not fit with elegiacs (οὐ γάρ πως ἦν τοὔνομ’ ἐφαρμόζειν ἐλεγείωι) and did not fit with aristocratic sympotic poetry either. Thus “not unmetrically” the name would continue to be associated with the dramatic verse of iambics (νῦν δ’ ἐν ἰαμβείωι κείσεται οὐκ ἀμέτρως, Crit. fr. 4, 2– 4 IEG).¹⁷ Critias here deliberately makes use of both meanings of ‘metre’: the political measure and the poetic μέτρον are highlighted and blended. The second part of the μετρον-adjectives probably came to be used in philological discourse from mathematicians and musicians at a time when poetical verse started being measured in units, with terms such as τρίμετρον, τετράμετρον, ἑξάμετρον in use. In the fifth century BCE the adjective τρίμετρος is found twice in total in Herodotus, both in book 1, and once in Aristophanes. The adjective occurs in the Clouds in the passage discussed above when Socrates asks the uneducated Strepsiades, what is “the most beautiful measure” (κάλλιστον μέτρον), the

 See below. On the connection of metre with music referring to all forms of verbal art in early Greece, see Nagy 2010b.  Protag. DK80 B1. See Guthrie 1971, 183 – 184.  Wilson 2003, 198 – 199, O’Sullivan 2015, 55 – 56.

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three-measure or the four-measure (πότερα τὸ τρίμετρον ἢ τὸ τετράμετρον; Nu. 641– 642). Kenneth Dover pointed out the implied aesthetic comparison “between the iambic trimeter and the trochaic tetrameter” at this place.¹⁸ Herodotus mentions Archilochus (fr. 19 IEG), referring to his iambic trimeter (ἐν ἰάμβῳ τριμέτρῳ, Hdt. 1.12). This is important evidence for the generic characterisation of an iambic poet in the mid fifth century BCE. In the passages discussed above Epicharmus similarly characterises the poet Aristoxenus who was perhaps the first to introduce iambs (οἱ τοὺς ἰάμβους καὶ τὸν †ἄριστον τρόπον, ὃν πρᾶτος εἰσαγήσαθ’ Ὡριστόξενος, Epich. fr. 77 PCG). There are also similarities in Pindar, who defined Archilochus as an iambic (ψογερός) poet (ψογερὸν ᾿Aρχίλοχον βαρυλόγοις ἔχθεσιν πιαινόμενον, Pind. Pyth. 2.54– 55), and in Aristophanes, whose Dionysus recalls an iambic verse of Hipponax (ἐπεὶ ἴαμβον Ἱππώνακτος ἀνεμιμνῃσκόμην, Ar. Ra. 660 – 661). The Herodotian passage is especially important as it embodies a double characterisation for the poet Archilochus, according to genre and according to metre (ἐν ἰάμβῳ τριμέτρῳ). This was in all probability a common and popular characterisation for Archilochus. Herodotus had not coined anything new but was employing a standard description. The other parallel for ’metre’ occurs later in the same book in Herodotus. The priestess in Delphi speaks to the Cnidian envoys in trimeter (ἐν τριμέτρῳ τόνῳ): “Do not wall and do not dig across the isthmus; for Zeus would have placed an island, if he willed it so” (Hdt. 1.174). τόνος is another fifth century BCE term meaning “stretching, tightening, straining”, originating in the fields of music and medicine.¹⁹ It is here that its use as a term commences, with metre-describing adjectives referring to poetic verses. Another well-known metre in the fifth century BCE, attested several times, is ’hexameter’. Hexameter’s usual context is oracular. Herodotus mentions the hexameter four times, twice in his first book, then in books five and seven. In all cases the reference is to oracular verses. According to Herodotus, the Delphic Pythia speaks in hexameters (ἐν ἑξαμέτρῳ τόνῳ, Hdt. 1.47). At the temple of Pallenian Athene in Attica there was a soothsayer, Amphilytus, who spoke in a ’hexameter voice/tune’ (ἐν ἑξαμέτρῳ τόνῳ, Hdt. 1.62). In the fifth book hexameters

 Dover 1968, 179. See also Olson 2021, 146 – 147.  The word τόνος is attested as used for sounds, as in the raising of the voice: Aeschin. 3.209 – 210, Dem. 18.280, hence, a pitch of the voice: Pl. Resp. 617b, Arist. Phgn. 807a17, etc.; including volume: τόνοι φωνῆς· ὀξύ, βαρύ, μικρόν, μέγα Xen. Cyn. 6.20; pitch or accent of a word or syllable: Arist. Rhet. 1403b29.

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appear in the famous excursus on the Cadmeian inscriptions.²⁰ Though the oracular context remains, here the hexameters are not spoken out loud but written down. Herodotus mentions three tripods which he claims to have seen himself at the temple of Apollo at Thebes.²¹ Each tripod was inscribed with an Archaic script (the so-called Cadmeian or Phoenician letters, Καδμήια γράμματα). Herodotus notes that two inscriptions were written in hexametric verse (ἐν ἑξαμέτρῳ τόνῳ, καὶ οὗτος ἐν ἑξαμέτρῳ, Hdt. 5.59 – 61). Whilst all three tripods contain hexameter dedicative inscriptions, to the first Herodotus designates just inscription (ἐπίγραμμα) and for the second and third ones he emphasises this fact using metre terminology within a performative context. In Herodotus’ seventh book it is once again the Pythia who in hexameter verses (ἐν ἔπεσι ἑξαμέτροισι, Hdt. 7.220) provides the Spartans with a response regarding the outcome of the war. This is the first attestation for the syntagma “hexameter verses” which would become a fixed technical term up until our time, with a special reference to epic verses that had a melodic frame.²² ἔπεσι does not allude to epic here, it remains in the domain of oracular sayings, but the syntagma is already there, available for the “epic hexameter”. However, Herodotus’ examples reveal that hexameter, both as a term and as the verse itself, was firmly associated with oracles in the fifth century BCE. This does not necessarily mean that the opposite was also the case; oracles might be written down in other meters apart from hexameter.²³ In the first book of Herodotus, the Pythia speaks in trimeter also. In a corrupt papyrus fragment from Euripides’ tragedy Oedipus the reconstructed text suggests the same syntagma “hexameter verses” ([..ἐ]π̣ειποῦσ’ ἑξά̣[μ]ε̣ τ[ρ’ ἀφῆκ’ ἔπη, Eur. fr. 540a, 6 TrGF). An oracular context is probably alluded to here as well, and it may be the Sphinx who is speaking. If the text does in fact belong to Euripides, this constitutes unique evidence for metric terminology in tragedy, the oracular context and the intensity of terminological usage being appropriate. From at least Damon onwards there was a continuous tradition of metrical teaching. Aristotle refers to phonological analysis of vocal sound (στοιχεῖον μὲν

 Cf. also “Evidently, Herodotus is thinking of this meter in terms of the “measures” of singing it to the musical accompaniment of a kithara” (Nagy 2010b, 381).  West 1985.  On the use of an Homeric key word ἔπος among other ‘speaking terms’, see Martin 1989, 12– 42.  On the formalist approach to poetry in the fifth century BCE, see Ford 2002, 144, who quotes Aristophanes’ catalogue (Ar. Ra. 1030 – 1036) of the first poets who all used hexameter. Aristophanes notably lists Orpheus, Mousaeus, Hesiod, and Homer.

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οὖν ἐστιν φωνὴ ἀδιαίρετος) and syllable (συλλαβὴ δέ ἐστιν φωνὴ ἄσημος συνθετὴ ἐξ ἀφώνου καὶ φωνὴν ἔχοντος, Poet. 20, 1456b21– 36) and to those who are learned “in metres” (παρὰ τῶν μετρικῶν, Part. an. 660a8) as well as to treatises on metrics (ἐν τοῖς μετρικοῖς, Poet. 20, 1456b34).

5.3 Striking back Another important ’embodied’ metric term, ἀνάπαιστος, taking “struck back, rebounding, i. e. dactyl reverse”, for “anapaestic verse”, is exclusively attested in comedy in the fifth century BCE. It occurs once in Pherecrates and four times in Aristophanes.²⁴ Was the term created in a dramatic context for the designation of certain units of drama? It occurs with the same meaning twice more in the fourth century BCE, in Aeschines and in Aristotle, and then disappears for three hundred years.²⁵ Used in the plural, ἀνάπαιστοι, it functions not as a pure metre, but as a metonymy and a technical term for the parabasis in anapaests or anapaestic tetrameter. The word relates exclusively to the parabases. In the Acharnians the chorus states: “But let us doff our cloaks and come forward with the anapaests” (ἀλλ’ ἀποδύντες τοῖς ἀναπαίστοις ἐπίωμεν, Ar. Ach. 627), and in the Knights: “And you please give your attention to our anapaests” (ὑμεῖς δ’ ἡμῖν προσέχετε τὸν νοῦν τοῖς ἀναπαίστοις, Ar. Eq. 504). The verb προσέχετε is crucial here as it recalls the ‘attention’-concept from psychology, determining the shifting between the text, the body movements of the actors and the characters, all of which the spectators experienced.²⁶ It is again the chorus speaking in the Peace: “the rod-bearers had to beat any comic playwright who extols himself before the audience coming forward in the anapaests” (εἴ τις κωμῳδοποιητὴς αὑτὸν ἐπῄνει πρὸς τὸ θέατρον παραβὰς ἐν τοῖς ἀναπαίστοις, Ar. Pax 734– 735), and in the Birds: “However, you, playing the notes of spring on the fair-sounding flute, start our anapaests” (ἀλλ’, ὦ καλλιβόαν κρέκουσ’ αὐλὸν φθέγμασιν ἠρινοῖς, ἄρχου τῶν ἀναπαίστων, Ar. Av. 682– 684). It is thus evident that the anapaests in their early usage are connected with a series of bodily actions and movements evoking sounds and sight. Deictic indicators such as ὑμεῖς δ’ ἡμῖν προσέχετε reinforce the sense of spatial vividness.

 On a corrupt reading in Telecl. fr. 1, 11 PCG, see Bagordo 2013 ad loc.  Aeschin. 1.158 and Arist. Poet. 1452b23. See Lucas 1968, 138.  On the concept of ’attention’ and its application to tragic messenger speeches, see Budelmann and van Emde Boas 2020.

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The term is used in a similar way in Pherecrates’ comedy Korianno: “men, give your attention to the new invention, the folded anapaests” (Ἄνδρες πρόσχετε τὸν νοῦν ἐξευρήματι καινῷ, συμπτύκτοις ἀναπαίστοις, Pherecr. fr. 84 PCG). Pherecrates developed his anapaests, from which he created “folded anapaests” (συμπτύκτοις ἀναπαίστοις), whatever that might mean. These verses are very similar to Ar. Eq. 504, quoted above; noteworthy is the addition of συμπτύκτοις. Whether Pherecrates altered the metrics, having made “folded anapaests” out of “normal anapaests”, and thus wanted to emphasise this “invention” (ἐξευρήματι καινῷ), or whether the “invention” referred to something different that followed further on in the text, with the word συμπτύκτοις unrelated to the invention, remains uncertain. Coming back to the passage from Plato’s Republic discussed above, an important word ‘foot’ is noteworthy. According to the Republic, Damon commented on the conduct of the foot (τὰς ἀγωγὰς τοῦ ποδὸς, Pl. Rep. 3.400c). The Greek term ποῦς became the Latin term pes, which in turn became ’foot’ in modern languages. The ’foot’ forms part of a line of verse in most Indo-European traditions of poetry, including English accentual-syllabic verse and the quantitative metre of classical ancient Greek and Latin poetry. The ’foot’ is composed of syllables, and is usually two, three, or four syllables in length. Aristoxenus of Tarentum, mentioned above, wrote a treatise on rhythmics and metrics, where he seems to have specified that ’feet’ (πόδες) must be classified according to the number of beats they contain (two, three, four or more).²⁷ The term thus must have been fixed by the end of the 5th c. BCE along with other terms for metrics. Aeschylus and Euripides in the Frogs play upon it on stage. Euripides’ Muse is dancing and Aeschylus points at the actor’s feet.²⁸ Ar. Ra. 1323 – 1324 Αι. ὁρᾷς τὸν πόδα τοῦτον; Ευ. ὁρῶ. Αι. τί δαί; τοῦτον ὁρᾷς; Δι. ὁρῶ. Ae. Do you see that foot? Eu. I do.

 Aristox. Elem. rhythm. 2, 16 – 18. See Pearson 1990, 10 – 13, 59 – 60.  Dover 1993, 356 – 357; Sommerstein 1996, 276. Dover assumes here that Aeschylus is dancing himself whilst singing and points to his own foot. Sommerstein provides a hypothesis of another dancing character representing the ugly Euripides’ Muse. For our purposes it makes little diffence which hypothesis is accepted, as a human foot in dance is pointed to, whilst the metaphorical technical meaning is already known to the audience. Cf. also Il. 18.599 – 601 (θρέξασκον ἐπισταμένοισι πόδεσσι) and Lather 2021, 86 – 87.

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Ae. And that one? Do you see that one? Di. I do.

The emphatic (repeated four times in two verses) deictic use of the verb of visual perception combined with the personal deixis “you” and the local deixis “this” has a peculiar importance here, as attention is drawn to something physically happening whilst the metric structure of the verse is actually intended. The ‘foot’ has an obvious somatic and sensorimotor power: it needed to beat the rhythm in performance and then to stride from vivid performance into theoretical treatises on rhythm to become a metrical foot. Aristophanes might here be toying with already existing meanings of ‘foot’ in the language of playwrights. If so, this constitutes a particularly dramatic example of the embodiment of metaphor.²⁹ Finally, significant evidence showing a theoretical reflection on the nature of metre can also be found in Gorgias. It is hard to judge whether Gorgias’ main source in discussing the myth of Helen was Homeric epic or numerous contemporary tragedies on the topic. Nevertheless, the difference between the genre he composed in and the genre of the material discussed is clear in his famous formalist juxtaposition of λόγος and poetry in his Helen: “the whole of poetry is a speech with metre” (τὴν ποίησιν ἅπασαν καὶ νομίζω καὶ ὀνομάζω λόγον ἔχοντα μέτρον, Gorg. DK82 B11, 9 = D 24 Laks-Most).³⁰ Aristotle rejects this formalist approach at the beginning of his Poetics, though he admits that others identify poetry with metrical composition (οἱ ἄνθρωποί γε συνάπτοντες τῷ μέτρῳ τὸ ποιεῖν, Arist. Poet. 1, 1447b12– 13). However, the criterion of content is prevalent over form. Homer and Empedocles both composed in hexameter, claims Aristotle, but have nothing in common apart from the metre (οὐδὲν δὲ κοινόν ἐστιν Ὁμήρῳ καὶ Ἐμπεδοκλεῖ πλὴν τὸ μέτρον), and whilst Homer should

 Cf. Pind. Ol. 3, 4– 6, where the poet claims that the Muse has assisted him in his endeavours to compose this new ode in Dorian metre (or musical mode?): And thus the Muse stood at some indeterminate place beside me, who invented a newly shining way to fit the sound of glorious celebration to the Dorian sandal… (Δωρίῳ φωνὰν ἐναρμόξαι πεδίλῳ ἀγλαόκωμον). The ’sandal’ (πέδιλον) recalls the later metaphor of “foot” (ποῦς) as a unit of length, and finally the basic repetitive rhythmic unit in prosody as well. The ’Dorian sandal’ in Pindar thus might symbolize the fusion of choral dancing (movement) and reciting (metrics) and presupposes the future development of the technical prosodic terminology. On ‘symbolic thought’ in Pindar, see Finley 1955, 8 – 22.  Schollmeyer 2021, 230 – 234. Cf. also οὔτ’ ἐν ποιήσει οὔτ’ ἐν ἰδίοις λόγοις (Pl. Rep. 2. 366e), μήτ’ ἐν μέτρῳ μήτε ἄνευ μέτρου μυθολογοῦντα (Pl. Rep. 2. 380c), ἐν λόγῳ ἢ ἐν ποιήσει (Pl. Rep. 3. 390a), καὶ ποιηταὶ καὶ λογοποιοὶ (Pl. Rep. 3. 392a).

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be called a poet, Empedocles is a natural scientist rather than a poet (τὸν δὲ φυσιολόγον μᾶλλον ἢ ποιητήν, Arist. Poet. 1.1447b17– 19).³¹ Gorgias’ passage is the first attested differentiation between poetry and prose, which perfectly suits its time and the musical and metric studies of Damon and his contemporaries. The Pythagorean philosopher Philolaus of Croton (or Tarentum) was credited with having written a treatise titled Περὶ ῥυθμῶν καὶ μέτρων,³² and Democritus with a treatise Περὶ ῥυθμῶν καὶ ἁρμονίης.³³ Hippias of Elis, discussed above, analysed language and music, distinguishing letters, syllables, rhythms, and scales (περί τε γραμμάτων δυνάμεως καὶ συλλαβῶν καὶ ῥυθμῶν καὶ ἁρμονιῶν, Pl. Hip. Mai. 285d). Damon was thus by no means alone. By the beginning of the fourth century BCE, μέτρον had become an established term in the context of poetic performance and musical competitions, which was later transferred to the realm of rhetoric.³⁴ Gorgias’ student Isocrates employed this term frequently, especially when he followed Gorgias in opposing the metric poetic text to prose: Isocr. 2 (Nicocl.), 7: τῶν μετὰ μέτρου ποιημάτων, Isocr. 9 (Evag.), 10: οἱ μὲν μετὰ μέτρων καὶ ῥυθμῶν ἅπαντα ποιοῦσιν, Isocr. 9 (Evag.), 11: τὸ δὲ μέτρον διαλύσῃ, τῶν ἐν ταῖς ᾠδαῖς καὶ τοῖς μέτροις ἐγκωμιαζόντων, Isocr. 15 (Antid.), 45: τῶν μετὰ μέτρου ποιημάτων, Isocr. 15 (Antid.), 47: τῶν ἐν τοῖς μέτροις πεποιημένων, it further appears in Xenophon Mem. 1.2.21 (τῶν ἐν μέτρῳ πεποιημένων ἐπῶν) and passim in Plato and Aristotle. Our sources for ancient metrical theory are scant and our knowledge is based mainly on a text which is either a schoolbook or the Epitome (Ἐγχειρίδιον περὶ μέτρων) of the second century CE grammarian Hephaistion, as well as an account of metre included in Aristides Quintilianus’ Περὶ Μουσικῆς (perhaps after the second century CE). Music and poetry, and in consequence musical and poetic studies, were not separated in the Classical age. Poets were often musicians, and the μουσικὴ τέχνη meant poetry, singing, the playing of instruments and dance. All designations for rhythms and metres referred to somatic activities and the movements of hands, feet, head and voice. Some adjectives such as τρίμετρον, τετράμετρον, ἑξάμετρον, δάκτυλος and ἀνάπαιστος became technical terms, others such as the martial rhythm ἐνόπλιος disappeared from technical vocabulary in the longue durée. Literary concepts of metre and rhythm are physical and embodied: their origins are to be found in dance, stepping one foot in front of another, so that au   

On this passage and the genre of Socratic dialogue as a mimesis in prose, see Ford 2010. Philol. DK44 B22. Democr. DK68 B15c. On fourth century BCE discussions of the mnemonic effect of metre, see Vatri 2015, 752– 756.

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ditory, somatic and sensory parameters heighten the affective states of their recipients. The rhythm of the weapon dance accompanied by flute is an effective communicator of emotional range, and metric terms such as trimeter, hexameter and anapaest are used in comedy. The contribution of comedy to the development of scholarly discourse cannot be overstated. Vivid dancing on stage with some comments on rhythm such as in the Frogs and dramatic performance of the theoretical discussion of metre such as in the Clouds might have influenced the later theoretical use of metrical vocabulary.

Chapter 6 Discourse on language and dialect This chapter looks at comedy’s engagement with early considerations of linguistic diversity. Foreign languages spoken on stage and the public teasing of linguistic errors were embedded into the plots of comedies. The experience of speaking in other dialects in front of the Athenian audience whilst discussing linguistic deviations played an essential role in the development of the notion of linguistic norms and standards as well as in the reflections on ’standard Greek’.¹ The comic playwright Plato ridicules incorrect pronunciation in Attic in his comedy Hyperbolus (420 BCE?): ὁ δ’ οὐ γὰρ ἠττίκιζεν, ὦ Μοῖραι φίλαι, ἀλλ’ ὁπότε μὲν χρείη ‘διῃτώμην’ λέγειν, ἔφασκε ‘δῃτώμην’, ὁπότε δ’ εἰπεῖν δέοι ‘ὀλίγον’, ‘ὀλίον’ ἔλεγεν. (Pl. fr. 183 PCG) For he was not pro-Athenian/he did not speak Attic, dear Moirai, but whenever he had to say διῃτώμην, he used to say δῃτώμην, and whenever he was supposed to say ὀλίγον he used to say ὀλίον. ²

Attic comedy, first written for the Athenian stage, entailed by nature the presentation of Attic behavior and language as the norm.³ The playwright uses the verb ἀττικίζειν with a spatial connotation “to side with Athens” and transforms it into meaning with an environmental connotation “to speak the language of Athens”, in all probability the politician Hyperbolus being the subject.⁴ This is this mean-

 On the language choice and use in early Greece, see Silk 2009.  See the discussion in Pirrotta 2009, 329 – 331.  On the topos of the political invective making fun of the opponent’s foreign provenance, which became established in oratory from the fourth century BCE onwards, and on the place of the topos in Attic comedy, see Apostolakis 2021, 56 – 60.  The concept of Attic Greek is documented elsewhere. The first documentation seems to be the well-known passage from Solon: γλῶσσαν οὐκέτ’ ᾿Aττικὴν ἱέντας (Sol. fr. 36, 11– 12 IEG). The fifth century BCE prose texts – Herodotus, Thucydides and the Old Oligarch – further discuss Attic dialect. Herodotus describes the origin of the Attic tongue (Hdt. 1.57) and refers to the process of teaching Attic to the children of Pelasgian fathers through their Athenian mothers (Hdt. 6.138). In Thucydides the Athenian politician Nicias exhorts his non-Athenian soldiers before battle, referring to the knowledge of Athenian language (ἡμῶν τῆς τε φωνῆς τῇ ἐπιστήμῃ, Thuc. 7.63.3). In the anonymous treatise The Constitution of the Athenians, transmitted under Xenophon’s name and contemporary to Thucydides (the so-called Old Oligarch), Athenian language and identity are the focus of the author’s attention, the peculiarity of Athenian speech (φωνή) being explained in the following way (Ps.-Xen. Ath. Pol. 2.7– 8): […] ἔπειτα φωνὴν https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-009

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ing of the verb ἀττικίζειν that became dominant in later Hellenistic times.⁵ Plato’s fr. 183 PCG constitutes an excellent example of specific linguistic features being ridiculed, as though a purist grammarian had been brought on the stage so that the audience could experience the errors through him. The phrase οὐ γὰρ ἠττίκιζεν is important as an explanation (with the explanative particle γάρ) for what is happening in this scene, and it is here that the terminus technicus ἀττικίζειν, is attested for the first time in Greek. As ἀττικισμός it would become a crucial concept in late Ancient philological thought. The verb ἀττικίζειν is used in a similar context in the damaged papyrus fragment 99 PCG of Eupolis’ Dēmoi (P.Cair. 43227 fr. 1 verso): …]ικἀξιοῖ δημηγορεῖν, χθὲϲ δὲ καὶ πρῴην παρ’ ἡμῖν φρατέρων ἔρημ[ος ὤν κοὐδ’ ἂν ἠττίκιζεν, εἰ μὴ τοὺϲ φίλουϲ ηἰϲ̣ χύν[ετο… (fr. 99, 23 – 25 PCG) And he thinks he has a right to participate in public debate, yesterday and the day before yesterday in our presence (being deprived?) of any members of a phratry, and he would not even speak Attic (behave himself as a pro-Athenian?), if he did not feel shame before his friends…

Eupolis’ comedy was probably performed in 412 BCE.⁶ What does ἀττικίζειν mean here? The meaning of the verb should remain open; it can relate to behavior in the manner of Athenians, or more precisely to the manner of speech in an Athenian way. In this scene, an alien element in the manner of an unknown politician (perhaps here too Hyperbolus), who cannot behave himself in Attic, is ridiculed.

6.1 Speaking in the fashion of… Over the course of the fifth century BCE the morpheme –ίζειν with the stem suffix –ιζ- started signifying ‘speaking in the fashion of X.’ Verbs such as ἀττικίζειν and ἑλληνίζειν played a crucial role in the scholarly discourse of the Second πᾶσαν ἀκούοντες ἐξελέξαντο τοῦτο μὲν ἐκ τῆς, τοῦτο δὲ ἐκ τῆς· καὶ οἱ μὲν Ἕλληνες ἰδίᾳ μᾶλλον καὶ φωνῇ καὶ διαίτῃ καὶ σχήματι χρῶνται, ᾿Aθηναῖοι δὲ κεκραμένῃ ἐξ ἁπάντων τῶν Ἑλλήνων καὶ βαρβάρων ([…] Further, hearing every language, they [the Athenians] have selected some from that and some from this; whilst the Greeks use more their own language, habits and appearance, the Athenians use one that is mixed out of all the Greeks and foreigners)).  Colvin 1999, 282 and Colvin 2000, 289 – 290.  On the date of the comedy, see the discussion in Olson 2017, 304– 310 with bibliography. See also Tuci 2014. On the verb ἀττικίζειν see Novokhatko 2020e, 26 – 27.

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Sophistic. Most of these verbs are attested only in the second half of the fifth century BCE, but one example from Aeschylus deserves special attention, as it is an early instance of the -ίζω formation. In particular, the verb βαρβαρίζω (Hdt. 2.57) is noteworthy. An unknown fragment by Aeschylus contains the word χελιδονίζειν (Aesch. fr. 450(?) TrGF), explained in the scholia thus, “and Aeschylus says, for ‘speaking barbarian’, ‘uttering like a swallow’” (καὶ Αἰσχύλος τὸ βαρβαρίζειν ‘χελιδονίζειν’ φησί).⁷ The comparison of a foreigner’s voice to a swallow’s chirping seems to have become a fixed simile in Greek, starting from Aeschylus; Clytemnestra uses this verb to describe Cassandra’s foreignness (Aesch. Ag. 1050 – 1052). The phrase ἀγνῶτα φωνὴν βάρβαρον (“unknown barbarian speech”) points to a cognitive link between speaking and understanding, language and consciousness, thus recalling Herodotus’ Egyptian priestess who after tweeting like a bird started saying “understandable things” (συνετά σφι ηὔδα).⁸ Aeschylus’ innovative word χελιδονίζειν, picking up Herodotus’ βαρβαρίζειν, initiates the formation of many more verbs denoting varieties of speech. In assessing the question of newly-formed verbs denoting ‘speaking in other language/dialect’, we may consider several comic fragments.⁹ In the early comedy Babylonioi (426 BCE), Aristophanes uses the verb λακεδαιμονιάζω. The opposition of ‘Athenian’ to ‘foreign’ seems presupposed in the title of the play and must have been reflected to some extant in the plot as well (Ar. fr. 97 PCG = Steph. Byz. λ 19, 12– 13).¹⁰ The verb λακεδαιμονιάζω can mean ‘to imitate a Lacedaemonian style’, with reference to manners, dress and the like, but it can also mean ‘to imitate Lacedaemonian speech.’ Verbs ending -ιάζω derived from ethnic  Schol. Ar. ad Av. 1680 Dübner. On the comparison with a swallow for speaking a wrong or awkward Greek, cf. also Ar. Av. 1677– 1681 (εἰ μὴ βαβάζει γ’ ὥσπερ αἱ χελιδόνες) and Ar. Ra. 676 – 682 (ἐφ’ οὗ δὴ χείλεσιν ἀμφιλάλοις δεινὸν ἐπιβρέμεται Θρῃκία χελιδὼν ἐπὶ βάρβαρον ἑζομένη πέταλον).  For further parallels, see Fraenkel 1950, ad loc.  See also adverbs meaning ‘in such a such tongue/dialect’: βαρβαριστί (Ar. fr. 81 PCG), λυδιστί (Cratin. fr. 276.4 PCG), δωριστί (Ar. Eq. 989), always referring to musical modes and the manners of performance. Cf. σκυθιστὶ in Herodotus, used two times with a verb meaning ‘to call’: “ὀνομάζομεν αὐτοὺς σκυθιστὶ ᾿Aριμασπούς” (“we call them in Scythian Arimaspians”, Hdt. 4.27), “ὀνομάζονται δὲ σκυθιστὶ Ἱστίη μὲν Ταβιτί” (“Hestia is called Tabiti in Scythian”, Hdt. 4.59). On one occasion the adverb σκυθιστί is used together with a noun for ‘name’: “οὔνομα δὲ τῇ κρήνῃ καὶ ὅθεν ῥέει τῷ χώρῳ σκυθιστὶ μὲν Ἐξαμπαῖος, κατὰ δὲ τὴν Ἑλλήνων γλῶσσαν Ἱραὶ ὁδοί” (“the name of the spring and of the place where it flows from is in Scythian Exampaeus, in the Greek language Sacred roads”, Hdt. 4.52). On the representation of the Scythians in Herodotus, see Hartog 1988, 3 – 33. On the Scythians in Aristophanes, see Sier 1992. On this form of adverb, see Harrison 1998, 15 – 16. Cf. also μηιονιστί (“in Maeonian”) in Hipponax (fr. 3a, 1 IEG).  Orth 2017, 533 – 536.

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designations started to occur more and more frequently during the fifth century BCE, as opposed to only one instance in the sixth century BCE (δωριάζω).¹¹ In the context of the Peloponnesian War, the contrast of ‘Attic’ versus ‘Lacedaemonian’ can refer to linguistic differentiation as well. We find other verbs ending in -ίζω, such as λυδίζω, in other texts.¹² The midsixth-century BCE iambic poet Hipponax thus describes an obscene scene where a woman speaks ‘in the Lydian fashion’ (Hippon. fr. 92.1). Aristophanes in his Knights also employs a participle of the verb λυδίζω to refer to the comic playwright Magnes, in all probability alluding to Magnes’ comedy Lydoi (Ar. Eq. 523 – 524). All three participles here (λυδίζων καὶ ψηνίζων καὶ βαπτόμενος βατραχείοις) allude to Magnes’ comedies, to his Lydoi, his Psenes and his Batrachoi. Other ways in which this passage can be understood include the possibility that the verb λυδίζω signifies here ‘speaking in Lydian fashion’.¹³ The verb μηδίζω, frequently occurring in Herodotus, can usually be understood along similar lines.¹⁴ The verb λακωνίζω, similar to λακεδαιμονιάζω (discussed above), which also refers to Spartan habits, is attested twice in comedy. Thus a character in a fragment from an unknown comedy by Eupolis says: μισῶ λακωνίζειν (“I hate doing it the Spartan way”, fr. 385, 1 PCG).¹⁵ The verb is attested once in Aristophanes as well (fr. 358 PCG, one-word fragment, context unclear). Eupolis perhaps adopted this pattern to coin the verb θετταλίζω (‘to do in Thessalian way’) for his comedy Marikas (fr. 214 PCG).¹⁶ As far as Plato’s fr. 183 PCG is concerned, it remains an open question as to who the subject of the ἠττίκιζεν might have been (the politician Hyperbolus perhaps?). However, the verb ἀττικίζω itself presupposes an awareness of the normalised form of the language of Athens itself as opposed to social varieties spoken by foreigners and lower-class people who make prosodic and phonetic mistakes (διῃτώμην versus δῃτώμην, ὀλίγον versus ὀλίον).¹⁷

 See Anacr. fr. 399 PMG. For the fifth century BC, cf. further αἰγυπτιάζω Crat. fr. 406 PCG, Ar. Thesm. 922; λεσβιάζω Ar. Ra. 1308; κορινθιάζω Ar. fr. 370 PCG, βοιωτιάζω Com. adesp. fr. 875 PCG; χιάζω and σιφνιάζω (Ar. fr. 930 PCG, adesp. fr. 942 PCG).  For the Athenian perspective on the Lydians, both in written record and in vase painting, see DeVries 2000, 356 – 363. For the verbs on -ίζω, see Rochette 2003, 178 – 180 with further references.  Bagordo 2014b, 82– 84.  It occurs thirty times in Herodotus and five times in Thucydides.  For the obscene connotations of the verb λακωνίζειν, appropriate to comedy, see Olson 2014, 126.  Cf. Olson 2016, 223: “doubtless a nonce formation”.  Colvin 2000, 290. Cf. also Colvin 1999, 282.

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Plato’s wit recalls the Persian Pseudartabas in Aristophanes’ Acharnians (ἰαρταμὰν ἐξάρξαν ἀπισσόνα σάτρα, Ar. Ach. 100, and further vv. 101– 107) and the barbarian Triballos in Aristophanes’ Birds (νά, Βαισατρεῦ, Ar. Av. 1615 – 1616, σαὺ νάκα βακτᾶρι κροῦσα 1628 – 1629, καλάνι κόραυνα καὶ μεγάλα βασιλιναῦ ὄρνιτο παραδίδωμι 1678 – 1681). These characters speak almost, but not entirely, incomprehensible gibberish.¹⁸ The Scythian archer scene in the Thesmophoriazusae is noteworthy as well. The Scythian’s Greek is broken with poor phonological and morphological constructs such as a lack of aspirated vowels, a lack of aspirated consonants, and incorrect verb endings (ἐνταῦτα νῦν οἰμῶξι πρὸς τὴν αἰτρίαν, μή μ’ ἰκετεῦσι σύ, ἔτι μᾶλλο βοῦλις; ἐγὼ ’ξινίγκι πορμός, ἴνα πυλάξι σοι 1001– 1007).¹⁹ The audience would have perceived differently a ’foreigner’ who tries to make some sense in Greek and a ’Greek’ who speaks a dialect other than Attic.²⁰ Another verb of this kind, ἑλληνίζειν, is attested for the first time in Thucydides. It seems to mean ‘to make somebody Greek’, emphatically in the sense of ‘to make somebody speak Greek’: ἡλληνίσθησαν τὴν νῦν γλῶσσαν (Thuc. 2.68.5).²¹ Thucydides does not offer an explanation for the fact that the people of a region founded by the Argive hero Amphilochus were barbarian, in other words not Greek-speaking. The natural conclusion from our point of view would be that the rest of Amphilochia was indeed barbarian, speaking nonGreek tongues, and was attached to the story of Amphilochus simply because they bore the same name. It is likely that the region became Greek under the influence of Ambracia, Ambracia being a colony of Dorian Corinth. Thucydides could of course have hardly believed the slightly absurd view that “Amphilochus, and with him Agamemnon, Achilles, or Odysseus, spoke ‘Pelasgian’, and that Homer only spoke Greek through contact with Dorians”.²² For us here, however, it is this first attestation of the future term ἑλληνίζειν that is particularly relevant.

 On a possible reconstruction of genuine Old Persian in Ar. Ach. 100 and a hypothesis that Pseudartabas presented a letter, see Willi 2004.  On the analysis of the Scythian’s language, see Willi 2003, 198 – 225. See also Long 1986, 194– 207, Sier 1992, Colvin 1999, 290 – 291 and Austin and Olson 2004, 308 – 309.  Morpurgo Davies 2002, 166; Olson 2002, 104– 105; Dunbar 1995, 725 – 725, 727– 728, 735 – 736. See Colvin 1999, 288 – 290 on Pseudartabas and Triballos.  Contrast this with Arist. Rhet. 1407a: “ἔστι δ’ ἀρχὴ τῆς λέξεως τὸ ἑλληνίζειν” (“it is the foundation of style to use correct Greek”). Morpurgo Davies 2002, 167; Rochette 2003, 184– 187.  Gomme 1956, 202.

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6.2 Hearing dialects on stage? Quite a few dramatic titles such as Chionides’ Persai e Assyrioi, Magnes’ Lydoi, Crates’ Samioi, Pherecrates’ Persai, Cratinus’ Thrattai, Cratinus’, Eupolis’, Plato’s and Nicochares’ Lakones, Cratinus’ Seriphioi, Aristophanes’ Babylonioi, Metagenes’ Thouriopersai, Strattis’ Makedonioi and Phoenissae and Apollophanes’ and Nicochares’ Kretes also suggest a thematisation of alienness, although none of these texts survive.²³ Several passages from comedy attest to an awareness of dialects spoken in Greek, though specific vocabulary is not used. All such examples come from Old Attic comedy, since comic playwrights played with Greek dialects, used marked language, and had their characters speak in non-Attic and thus ‘deviant’ forms of Greek. Examples include Megarian (Ar. Ach. 729 – 835), Boeotian (Ar. Ach. 860 – 954), Ionian (Ar. Pax 45 – 48), and Laconian (Ar. Lys. 1242– 1315).²⁴ Furthermore, the discourse on dialectal variety is reflected in a fragmentary dialogue from Strattis’ comedy Makedones ē Pausanias (fr. 29 PCG): Α. ἡ σφύραινα δ’ ἐστὶ τίς; Β. κέστραν μὲν ὔμμες ὡττικοὶ κικλήσκετε. A. What is a sphyraina? Β. You Attic people call it kestra [a type of fish].

Here too it remains an open question who speaker B might have been. Strattis depicts an Attic speaker whose identity is emphasised by the use of the deictic second person pronoun (“you Attic people”) by his interlocutor. This Attic speaker is contrasted with a non-Attic (Macedonian?) speaker, both of whom discuss and comment on variations in the designations of types of fish.²⁵ ὔμμες is an Aeolic form attested in Lesbian; the form ὡττικοὶ is also not Attic, the Attic contraction being ἁττικοὶ. The phrase ὔμμες ὡττικοὶ κικλήσκετε is thus an equivalent to ἀττικίζετε (which can mean “to speak Attic”). The imagery here is relevant to my work as a pebble in the mosaic of language discussions. “You Attic people” is opposed to “me the speaker” and thus a spatial distance is created between the characters on stage as well as between the character and the intended

 On ethnic stereotypes in Attic comedy, see Ornaghi 2020. Cf. also Aeschylus’ and Euripides’ Krēssai, Sophocles’ Lakainai, and Euripides’ Krētes for tragedy.  Willi 2014, 171– 172, 175 – 179; Zimmermann 2014.  On the debates concerning what kind of Greek was spoken by the Macedonians, see Hall 1989, 179 n. 65. See also Brixhe 1997, Silk 2009, 20 – 21, and Crespo 2012. On Strattis’ fragment see also Orth 2009, 156 – 157, and Fiorentini 2017, 133 – 136.

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Attic audience. An odd word for a type of fish switches sensory and gustatory modalities together with the corresponding associations in the recipient’s mind. Strattis uses similar techniques in another comedy, Phoenissai, when a character mocks the Boeotian dialect: Ξυνίετ’ οὐδὲν πᾶσα Θηβαίων πόλις. οὐδέν ποτ’ ἄλλ’· οἳ πρῶτα μὲν τὴν σηπίαν ὀπισθοτίλαν, ὡς λέγουσ’, ὀνομάζετε, τὸν ἀλεκτρυόνα δ’ ὀρτάλιχον, τὸν ἰατρὸνδὲ σάκταν, βέφυραν τὴν γέφυραν, τῦκα δὲ τὰ σῦκα, κωτιλάδας δὲ τὰς χελιδόνας, τὴν ἔνθεσιν δ’ ἄκολον, τὸ γελᾶν δὲ κριδδέμεν, νεασπάτωτον δ’ ἤν τι νεοκάττυτον ᾖ. (Stratt. fr. 49 PCG) You understand nothing, all of you, the whole city of Thebes, nothing whatsoever. First of all, they say that you call a cuttlefish opisthotila. A rooster [you call] an ortalikhos, a doctor [you call] saktas, a bridge [you call] bephyra; figs [you call] tuka, swallows [you call] kotilades, a morsel of food [you call] akolos, laughter [you call] kriddemen, and if something is newly-patched, it is neospatotos.

Again, “you people of Thebes”, taken to mean “the whole city of Thebes”, is a spatial-orientational designation for the addressee, to whom the speaker – whoever he is – opposes himself. The opposition is emphasised by paired non-Attic/ Attic nouns such as βέφυραν/γέφυραν and τῦκα/σῦκα) as well as the repeated second plural forms ξυνίετ’ and ὀνομάζετε. The differences between Boeotian and Attic (two regional dialects that bordered each other) had to be recognisable for Strattis’ audience.²⁶ The audience was clearly aware of dialectal differentiation, which could be employed for comic aims, while a dialect could also be used as a marker to identify a character on stage.²⁷ The function of marked language, when a character speaks a dialect, is difficult to determine even in surviving comedy, because the immediate contemporary context and the extent of comic effect are unknown. This is even harder in comic fragments. The passages gathered here nonetheless sufficiently demonstrate that although no clear differentiation between linguistic varieties was drawn and no new terminology was coined, Greek linguistic varieties were increasingly brought to the attention of Athenian audiences and readers towards the end of the fifth century BCE.

 Colvin 1999, 278. See also Orth 2009, 217– 222, and Fiorentini 2017, 191– 199.  Zimmermann 2014, 5. In the same vein a character in Xenarchus’ comedy Skythai (fourth century BCE) claims that “all Thessalians call their chariots kapanai” (καπάνας Θετταλοὶ πάντες καλοῦσι τὰς ἀπήνας, Xenarch. fr. 11 PCG).

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To return to the comic titles containing designations of the ’otherness’ listed above, I suppose it is not by chance that both fragments from Strattis that thematise the opposition of Attic and non-Attic are from plays titled Makedones (fr. 29 PCG) and Phoenissai (fr. 49 PCG). The title of Phoenissai suggests such thematisation, even if the play is not directly connected to the Boeotian dialect. The title might function allegorically for another Greek region (as is perhaps the case with Aristophanes’ Babylonioi, where the Samians probably played an important role), and thus the quantity of these ’otherness’-titles should be noted.²⁸ A noteworthy parallel is attested in Aeschylus. In The Libation Bearers Orestes claims that he would come to the front door in Argos with Pylades and they would speak “with a voice from Parnassus” (φωνὴν ἥσομεν Παρνησσίδα), imitating “the voice of the Phocian language” (γλώσσης αὐτὴν Φωκίδος μιμουμένω, Aesch. Ch. 560 – 564). The use of the two terms is crucial here; Orestes reminds his Attic audience that he is imitating the Parnassian φωνή (sound, voice, pronunciation?) of the Phocian γλῶσσα (dialect?).²⁹ There is a parallel passage in an earlier play of Aeschylus suggesting a similar meaning for the noun φωνή. In Seven against Thebes the hapax adjective ἑτερόφωνος (the next appearance is not attested before the third century CE), ‘of diverse voice’, is used to denote the difference between the Greek dialects of the Peloponnese and Thebes (Aesch. Sept. 169 – 170). The Persian wars were still fresh in Greek memory in 467 BCE, and ἑτερόφωνος might therefore imply the connotation of ‘alien’, ‘foreign’, or even ‘enemy’. But strictly speaking, it means ‘sounding differently’, as in the example above with the Parnassian φωνή.³⁰ Thus a Peloponnesian Greek speaker could be described as ἑτερόφωνος by the Thebans.³¹

 See the discussion of the content of Aristophanes’ Babylonioi in Orth 2017, 351– 374. On the term ’otherness’, see the seminal discussion in Said 1994, 332.  Cf. Soph. fr. 178 TrGF. On the meanings of φωνή and γλῶσσα in Archaic and Classical Greek, see Novokhatko 2020e with further bibliography.  Hall 1989, 178. Plato (Leg. 812d) uses ἑτεροφωνία to refer to musical tones.  The much-quoted passage from Herodotus’ book 8 says: “And further the Greekness (τὸ Ἑλληνικόν) consisting in common blood and common language (ὅμαιμόν τε καὶ ὁμόγλωσσον), and the shrines of gods and the sacrifices in common, and the likeness of the way of life, which the Athenians should not betray” (Hdt. 8.144.2). Herodotus’ statement that the Greeks, dispersed over coasts and islands, share the same language, seems to reflect a common view for the duration of the fifth century BCE. The difference between dialect and language (though without using clear terms and concepts for these) is implicitly expressed; despite the obvious differences, Greek dialects still constitute one and the same language system. See Morpurgo Davies 2002, 166 and Hall 1989, 4– 5.

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6.3 Lamb’s speech In Herodotus, the Attic language is set in opposition to Pelasgian. While describing the cruel acts perpetrated by the Lemnians against the Athenians, Herodotus refers to the process of teaching the children of Pelasgian fathers through their Athenian mothers “the Attic tongue” (γλῶσσάν τε τὴν ᾿Aττικὴν, Hdt. 6.138). Whilst τρόπος seems to denote ‘manner’ and ‘custom’ here, it can also refer to linguistic variation in Herodotus’ work. He explicitly contrasts the noun γλῶσσα with the phrases τρόποι παραγωγέων and χαρακτῆρες γλώσσης in the passage on the variations of Ionian Greek. Herodotus notes that four local varieties of Greek were spoken among the Ionian cities on the Asia Minor coast and nearby islands, i. e. those in Caria, in Lydia, Chios-Erythrae, and Samos (Hdt. 1.142). The vocabulary is very vague here, but the presuppositions for the future term διάλεκτος are clear. The verb διαλέγεσθαι, used twice, denotes the subcategory of language, a separate linguistic variety spoken within each of the four groups.³² Thus these four varieties are referred to in the following terms: κατὰ ταὐτὰ διαλεγόμεναι σφίσι (“communicate with each other in the same way”, the first group), σφίσι δὲ ὁμοφωνέουσι (“speak with each other the same language”, the second group), κατὰ τὠυτὸ διαλέγονται (“communicate in the same way”, the third group), and ἐπ’ ἑωυτῶν μοῦνοι (“employ their own among themselves”, the fourth group). Further, the terms γλῶσσα and φωνή seem to be synonyms. On the one hand, Herodotus uses the form ὁμοφωνέουσι for the Lydian group of Ionian cities, and on the other, he says ὁμολογέουσι κατὰ γλῶσσαν οὐδέν for the communication between Lydian and Carian Ionian cities. The four Ionic linguistic varieties of Asia Minor are referred to as τρόπους τέσσερας παραγωγέων (“four modes of variations”) and χαρακτῆρες γλώσσης τέσσερες (“four types of language”).³³ However, there has been no proof, literary or archaeological, that Ionian Greek did in fact have four variations in and around Asia Minor.³⁴ In commenting on the verb διαλέγεσθαι in Herodotus, an oft cited but unattributed Aristophanic fragment should not be overlooked. Here the significant noun διάλεκτος is employed to mean something close to ’social register’, here left deliberately untranslated:

 Colvin 2010, 201.  The haptic quality of the metaphor χαρακτῆρες is significant. See Van Rooy 2016a, 56; 2016b, 251– 256 on the recurring image of χαράσσειν (‘to carve’) in defining διάλεκτος.  Morpurgo Davies 2002 [1987], 157; Mac Sweeney 2013, 63 – 73.

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Διάλεκτον ἔχοντα μέσην πόλεως οὔτ’ ἀστείαν ὑποθηλυτέραν οὔτ’ ἀνελεύθερον ὑπαγροικοτέραν. (Ar. fr. 706 PCG) Using the middle dialektos of the city, neither effeminately sophisticated, nor slavishly rusticated.

The term διάλεκτος may mean ‘discourse, conversation’ in this text, which is its typical meaning in Plato’s dialogues.³⁵ It occurs also in a contemporary Hippocratic treatise, where the typology for sensations is presented, such as hearing for sound, sight for visible things, and the nose for smell. Through the mouth (στόμα), ‘speech’ or ‘conversation’ (διάλεκτος) comes to humans (Hipp. Vict. 1.23). The word actually has animal connotations, as shown by its use in Hermippus’ comedy Athēnas gonai where it refers to the sound/voice of a lamb: “you seem to have the speech and face of a lamb” (τὴν μὲν διάλεκτον καὶ τὸ πρόσωπον ἀμνίου ἔχειν δοκεῖς, fr. 3 PCG).³⁶ These physical connotations should be considered when reading Aristophanes’ fragment, where διάλεκτος meaning “speech” refers to social variation within the city of Athens rather than to geographic or ethnic linguistic variations. It is noteworthy that the peculiarities of discourse are emphasised, which would lead to the development of διάλεκτος as a technical term for ‘style’, ‘register’ and ‘dialect’. This διάλεκτος is described in detail; spoken in the city, it is “normal” (μέσην), not too urban, nor too rural. The fragment reflects the keen interest of both the playwright and his audience in defining and differentiating style and manners of speaking. Antisthenes wrote a treatise Περὶ διαλέκτου, which was the sixth of his ten volumes.³⁷ The title suggests that by this time διάλεκτος was already considered a technical term requiring a separate treatise, although it is not clear what exactly this term meant to Antisthenes. It was not, however, before the third century BCE that διάλεκτος came to be identified as a form of speech characterised by certain distinctive traits.³⁸

   

Bagordo 2017, 86 – 93. See Comentale 2017, 53 – 54. Diog. Laert. 6.16. See Prince 2015, 150. Tribulato 2014, 457.

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6.4 Greek or Attic? No clear differentiation in terms was made between foreign languages and varieties of Greek; for both, the designation γλῶσσα was used. In book 1, Thucydides describes the visit of the Athenian general Themistocles to the fifth king of Persia, Artaxerxes I, who had offered asylum to Themistocles following his ostracism from Athens. Themistocles asked Artaxerxes for one year to become accustomed to the Persian language and realities (Thuc. 1.138.1). Here the noun γλῶσσα is clearly used to refer to a non-Greek language. The problem of communication in a foreign language, overlooked in high-register epic and tragic poetry, is thus rationalised towards the end of the fifth century BCE. Gorgias, for instance, used it as an argument in his Palamedes, when arguing that Palamedes did not in fact have a language in common with Priam (καὶ δὴ τοίνυν σύνειμι καὶ σύνεστι κἀκεῖνος ἐμοὶ κἀκείνωι ἐγώ—τίνα τρόπον; τίνι τίς ὤν; Ἕλλην βαρβάρωι. πῶς ἀκούων καὶ λέγων; πότερα μόνος μόνωι; ἀλλ’ ἀγνοήσομεν τοὺς ἀλλήλων λόγους. ἀλλὰ μεθ’ ἑρμηνέως; Gorg. DK82 B11a.7 = D25 Laks-Most). In book 3, Thucydides mentions the mountain tribe of the Eurytanians, who constituted the largest division of the Aetolians on the north coast of the Gulf of Corinth. The Aetolians eat raw meat, he tells us, and are “most unintelligible with respect to their language” (ἀγνωστότατοι δὲ γλῶσσαν καὶ ὠμοφάγοι εἰσίν, Thuc. 3.94.5). It remains unclear what connotations the noun γλῶσσα has here, and whether Thucydides means that they spoke a dialect so strong that it was difficult for them to be understood by a non-dialect speaker, or whether their language was not Greek at all. Further on in book 3, the noun γλῶσσα denotes, in contrast, a variety of Greek. Referring to the Ambraciots, the Doric colonisers of Corinth, Thucydides argues that the Messenians could speak in Doric to them, and thus gain their trust (Thuc. 3.112.4). It is clear that Δωρίς γλῶσσα does not presuppose an opposition to the Greek language as such, but denotes a variety of Greek.³⁹ The same meaning of ‘dialect’ may also be associated with the noun φωνή as used in Thucydides. For example, before battle the Athenian politician Nicias exhorts his non-Athenian soldiers and refers to the Athenian language as follows: “those of you, who have hitherto been accounted Athenians though you were not, were admired throughout Greece due to your knowledge of our speech, and your imitation of our customs” (τῆς τε φωνῆς τῇ ἐπιστήμῃ καὶ τῶν τρόπων τῇ μιμήσει ἐθαυμάζεσθε κατὰ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, Thuc. 7.63.3). Whether these foreigners

 On the use of γλῶττα as an “obsolete/epic word” in the fifth and fourth centuries BCE, cf. below pp. 152– 153. See Silk 2009, 28.

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were in fact increasingly Atticised remains uncertain, but the noun φωνή referring to Attic Greek is significant here as it explicitly denotes a distinction between Attic and non-Attic Greek. Due to multiple contacts, the Athenians “mixed” their Greek with foreign languages and dialects; the noun φωνή is used here to refer to a variety of Greek the φωνή of the Athenians being explicitly opposed to the φωνή of the Greeks.⁴⁰ In the course of the fourth century BCE, Athenian hegemony weakens and Attic comedy production becomes increasingly international, so that the discourse of ’barbarian’ versus Athenian will also change.⁴¹ The Greeks, whose language was fragmented into several dialects and lacked a standard variety before the fourth century BCE, did not develop dialectological studies until the Hellenistic period.⁴² Yet, as we have seen, the discourse about ‘the Greek language’, as such, and about ‘the dialects of Greek’ (although ethnic in character), existed, with its roots in pre-Classical thought.⁴³ Comments on an alien language or dialect onstage reflect fifth century BCE proto-linguistic discussions and thus take part in the process of the further development of dialect studies and their vocabulary. Discourses on Greek language and Greek dialects must have been prominent towards the end of the fifth century BCE, as these are reflected in various genres.⁴⁴ Furthermore, a clear distinction (in terms of both markers and function) is maintained between social and regional varieties, as also between dialect Greek and barbarised Greek. The intensive development of a Greek technical vocabulary in various fields is attested from the last third of the fifth century BCE onwards, along with the construction of the vocabulary of ’dialectology’, which was crucial for textual criticism. The embodiment of discourses on linguistic varieties, as has been argued, plays a significant role. Dialect-speakers were embodied onstage through the ridicule of dialects by actors, experienced by the audience at the very moment of acoustic and phonetic opposition of the lines of non-Attic characters with the usual vernacular Attic of the Attic speaking characters and the majority of the spectators. There are many examples from drama where the characters speak in a non-Athenian language for various reasons and with various aims, resulting in spectators experiencing linguistic varieties in theatre. The considerations of theorists, including Protagoras’ search for linguistic errors and Prodicus’

    

Cf. also Ps.-Xen. Ath. Pol. 2.7– 8. See Gray 2007, 199 – 200. On the internationalisation of theatre production, see Konstantakos 2011. Tribulato 2014, 458. Hall 1997, 170 – 177. Colvin 1999, 295.

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claim for correctness of names, are played out in the same time and space.⁴⁵ At the very moment when linguistic deviations became a matter of reflection in comedy and in the mind of the spectators, another constituent had been added to the building of early scholarly discourses.

 On the theories of the ‘correctness of language’, see above pp. 56-61.

Chapter 7 Tracking Homeric criticism A further branch of contemporary intellectual debates was Homeric criticism. Embodied performed criticism was entwined with growing textual criticism and with discussions of Homeric problems and ’proto-editions’ of Homer. All these ‘editions’ were marked by random interpolations, omissions, and variations in wording. The ‘ancient’ version of the text of the poems is the version of Homeric epics which the certain author had in mind, be it in written or memorized form. It seems to have diverged from the Hellenistic vulgate in a number of minor but often significant particulars. Thus, in addition to attestations from Aristotle and the scholia referring to specific Homeric readings and explanations in a thoroughly ’scholarly’ context, evidence from Herodotus (Hdt. 2, 117; 4, 32) and Attic comedy (Cratin. incert. fr. 355 PCG, Ar. fr. 233 PCG, Strato fr. 1 PCG) on Homeric textual criticism should be considered crucial, a point we will return to below. This is not ’scholarly’, but rather points to the increasing popularity and availability of epic (and perhaps not only epic) textual criticism. The longest passage (fifty verses) attesting to the interaction of Greek Comedy with Homeric studies is perhaps Strato’s Phoenikidēs (fr. 1 PCG). It shows a cook who is a talented rhetorician and speaks in Homeric verses and vocabulary. The fragment is a monologue from the householder who complaints about his new cook, that he “frankly does not understand a word” of what his cook says (ἁπλῶς γὰρ οὐδὲ ἓν μὰ τοὺς θεοὺς ὧν ἂν λέγῃ συνίημι, 2– 3). The householder inserts into his monologue a dialogue which had allegedly taken place between them. At some point, says the householder, he became exhausted through the long quotations and complicated words of his cook, which he could not understand, and did not know anything of Homeric sacrificial rites either.¹ “I am a rather rustic man, thus converse simply with me” (ἀγροικότερός εἰμ’, ὥσθ’ ἁπλῶς μοι διαλέγου, v. 25), states the master in a manner reminiscent of Aristophanes’ Strepsiades. This implies a difference in social registers, with uneducated people unable to follow obsolete Homeric language which was not “simple” (ἁπλῶς μοι διαλέγου), with ἁπλῶς emphatically repeated in the passage (vv. 2, 25). The master then asks the cook to speak more clearly (ἐρεῖς σαφέστερον, v. 37), becoming desperate: “do you intend to ruin me in a Homeric way?” (‘Ὁμηρικῶς γὰρ διανοεῖ μ’ ἀπολλύναι, v. 30).² Homeric glosses such as μέροπες (v. 6), Δαιτυμόνες (v. 11), μῆλον (v. 21), οὐλοχύται (v. 34) and πηγός (v. 36) are brought onto the stage as material for  On the literary analysis of this fragment, see Dohm 1964, 198 – 201. See also Perrone 2020, 347.  For an intellectual authority that has a destructive power, cf. above p. 13 f. 28. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-010

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jokes.³ Morphological forms are confused; the stupid master cannot recognise the Homeric imperfect μίστυλλον and builds a plural μίστυλλα out of it. For his part, the cook uses the usual technique of old comedy and coins some words, or at least brings words on stage that have never been attested before (ἐρυσίχθων ’earth-breaker’ for ox (19) and θυσιάζεις (21) instead of θύεις).⁴ The cook makes a noteworthy admonition which sounds like a paraphrase of a schoolteacher: “watch that you do it in this way in the future” (κατ’ ἐκεῖνον ἤδη πρόσεχε καὶ τὰ λοιπά μοι, v. 29). This sounds odd in the context of a cook speaking to his master, but would sound natural in a school context with a grammar teacher speaking to his student. A further important piece of evidence for contemporary Homeric scholarship is provided by the following passage (Strat. fr. 1, 42– 44 PCG): …ὥστ᾽ ἔδει τῶν τοῦ Φιλητᾶ λαμβάνοντα βυβλίων σκοπεῖν ἕκαστα τί δύναται τῶν ῥημάτων… so one would have had to get the books of Philitas to look up what each of the phrases means

We do not know exactly which ’books’ of Philitas are meant here. Philitas, a tutor of Ptolemy I Soter in Alexandria and a teacher of Zenodotus of Ephesus, probably came back to Cos before the foundation of the Alexandrian library.⁵ From the surviving fragments it is hard to reconstruct Philitas’ methodology, but the exegetical works Ἄτακτοι γλῶσσαι and Ἑρμηνεία are important for his studies of Homer (frs. 29 – 58 Kuchenmüller). Philitas’ Homeric treatment was still considered significant in Aristarchus’ time, shown by Aristarchus writing the treatise Against Philitas. In Philitas’ work he exercised early scholarly practice and for the most part explained rare and obsolete Homeric words, examples including πέλλα “(wooden) bowl” (hapax Il. 16.642, Philet. fr. 33 Kuchenmüller = fr. 5 Dettori), which Philitas explained as a Boeotian designation for a cup (Φιλητᾶς δ’ ἐν ᾿Aτάκτοις τὴν κύλικα Βοιωτούς).⁶

 On the glosses μέροπες and πηγός, see Spanoudakis 2002, 401– 402. See also Di Marco 2010.  Revermann 2013, 103.  Pfeiffer 1968, 88 – 92; Dettori 2000a; Dettori 2000b; Spanoudakis 2002, 347– 403; Montana 2015, 70 – 72.  Dettori 2000a, 69 – 77; Spanoudakis 2002, 359 – 361. For the list of Homeric glosses in Philitas’ grammatical fragments, see Spanoudakis 2002, 387– 388.

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On some occasions Philitas’ evidence is important for the status of earlier Homeric text transmission (Philet. fr. 49 Kuchenmüller = fr. 21 Dettori = Hesych. s893): σκῖρος· ῥύπος καὶ ὁ δριμὺς τυρός. καὶ ἄλσος καὶ δρυμός. Φιλητᾶς δὲ τὴν ῥυπώδη γῆν “hard (perhaps chalk) land overgrown with bushes, scrub” (LSJ): filth and bitter cheese. Also grove and copse. But Philitas designates filthy earth in this way.

According to the Homeric scholia, Aristarchus is said to have shortened two verses, Il. 23.332– 333 ἢ τό γε νύσσα τέτυκτο ἐπὶ προτέρων ἀνθρώπων, / καὶ νῦν τέρματ’ ἔθηκε ποδάρκης δῖος ᾿Aχιλλεύς (“or it was made as a turning-post in the time of earlier men; and now swift-footed divine Achilles appointed it to his end-marker”), into one, ἠὲ σκῖρος ἔην, νῦν αὖ θέτο τέρματ’ ᾿Aχιλλεύς (“or it was hard/filthy land, but now Achilles appointed it to his end-marker”, Schol. T ex., ad loc. Erbse). Philitas’ explanation of the obscure word σκῖρος might imply here that this was the Homeric reading available to him (and perhaps Aristarchus) at the time. In this case, this would not have been Aristarchus’ conjecture but the received transmission of the Homeric text.⁷ The scholarship of Aristotle’s time thus reveals a general interest in classifying authors and genres as well as employing close reading techniques to focus on disputed verses and obsolete words. Philitas’ Homeric work was thus popular. In the fragment in question, a kind of reference book, perhaps a lexicon or encyclopaedia, is implied, in which the meanings (τί δύναται, v. 44) of Homeric words might have been explained. Kassel and Austin added three ’Homeric’ lines that were preserved only in papyri to the fragment of Strato, for in the previous editions only 47 verses were presented (Strat. fr. 1, 48 – 50 PCG): καί μοι δοκεῖ ῥαψωιδοτοιούτου τινὸϲ δοῦλοϲ γεγονὼϲ ἐκ παιδὸϲ ἁλιτήριοϲ εἶτ’ ἀναπεπλῆϲθαι τῶν Ὁμήρου ῥημάτων. And it seems to me that this scoundrel was a slave of some sort of rhapsode from his childhood so that he has been then filled to the full with Homeric expressions.

The bodily verb ’to fill up’/ἀναπίμπλημι is used with the genitive case in Classical Greek to mean metaphorically “to infect with”, as some parallel passages suggest.⁸

 Dettori 2000a, 147– 152; Spanoudakis 2002, 374– 375.  Cf. Ar. Ach. 847, Nu. 1023, Theogn. fr. 1, 1– 2, Pl. Phdr. 67a, Aeschin. 2.88, Xen. Cyr. 2.2.27, Dem. 24, 205. See Dover 1968, 220 and Olson 2002, 283.

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The householder thus metapoetically ascribes the erudition of his cook to his close relationship with a rhapsode using a (derogatory) comic hapax ῥαψωιδοτοιούτου. For the relationship between rhetoric and the culinary arts has long been a topos in literature (cf. Ar. Eq. 216: ὑπογλυκαίνων ῥηματίοις μαγειρικοῖς, and Pl. Grg. 462e: Ταὐτὸν ἄρ’ ἐστὶν ὀψοποιία καὶ ῥητορική; Οὐδαμῶς γε, ἀλλὰ τῆς αὐτῆς μὲν ἐπιτηδεύσεως μόριον).⁹ The rhapsode in Strato ’infected’ the cook with Homeric phrases (τῶν Ὁμήρου ῥημάτων). Strato’s fragment, along with epic parody generally, serves as important evidence for the narrative of epic text transmission, reception, and interpretation in the late fourth century BCE. I deliberately distinguish here between comic engagement with Homeric epic and epic parody, and comic engagement with Homeric scholarship. Homeric verses as well as Homer as a poet were constantly alluded to and played with on stage.¹⁰ What is relevant in this book for the construction of scholarly discourse is the comic reaction to Homeric criticism and comic creation of Homeric criticism. Strato’s fragment is an example of this category, with the allusion to Philitas and emphasised metatextual ’Homeric’ connotations such as “do not you know that Homer uses these words?” (Ὅμηρον οὐκ οἶδας λέγοντα; v. 26), “do you intend to ruin me in a Homeric way?” (‘Ὁμηρικῶς γὰρ διανοεῖ μ’ ἀπολλύναι, v. 30), and “he has been infected with Homeric expressions” (ἀναπεπλῆϲθαι τῶν Ὁμήρου ῥημάτων, v. 50). The issues of Homeric studies were recognisable to the audiences of comedy.

7.1 “Stern-posts” and “strengthless heads” This dialogue recalls similar passages where Homeric scholarship is explicitly alluded to in a dramatic context. In a much-discussed fragment 233 PCG from Aristophanes’ Daitales (427 BCE), the dialogue perhaps belongs to an agon and the speakers are a father and son discussing Homeric/epic and Solonic/judicial terms.¹¹

 Newiger 2000 (=1957), 21.  On the history of epic parody, see Olson & Sens 1999, 5 – 12 and Olson & Sens 2000, xxxixxxv, and Bertolín Cebrián 2008, 23 – 58. See also Schröter 1967, 10 – 14, with earlier bibliography. On the interaction of comedy with epics, see Macía Aparicio 2000, 2011, Platter 2007, 108 – 142, Revermann 2013, Telò 2013, Novokhatko 2018b, and Farmer 2020.  On this fragment see Montanari 2011 and Novokhatko 2017. See also Cassio 1977, 75 – 77; Olson 2007, 163 – 164; Perrone 2020, 346 – 347.

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Ar. fr. 233 PCG Α. πρὸς ταύτας δ’ αὖ λέξον Ὁμήρου γλώττας, τί καλοῦσι κόρυμβα; …τί καλοῦσ’ ἀμενηνὰ κάρηνα; Β. ὁ μὲν οὖν σός, ἐμὸς δ’ οὗτος ἀδελφὸς φρασάτω, τί καλοῦσιν ἰδύους; …τί ποτ’ ἐστὶν ὀπύειν; A. And now come on in turn tell Homeric words, what do they mean by korymba? … what do they mean by amenena karena? B. But let this guy, your (son?) and my brother, explain, what do they mean by idyoi? …what is opyein?

The whole dialogue is set around the play with the explanation of obsolete words. One son studied law and rhetoric with the sophists, while the other son (ἐμὸς δ’ οὗτος ἀδελφὸς) was educated in the traditional way. It follows from this text that apart from learning epic texts by heart, pupils had to learn to explain Homeric words such as the elevated κόρυμβα (“stern-posts”) and ἀμενηνὰ κάρηνα (“strengthless heads”) here. κόρυμβος (plural both κόρυμβοι and κόρυμβα) is a hapax in Homer (Il. 9.241), and occurs once in Aeschylus (Aesch. Pers. 411) and once in Euripides (Eur. IA 258). The formula ἀμενηνὰ κάρηνα (the full form is νεκύων ἀμενηνὰ κάρηνα) is found only four times in the Odyssey (Od. 10.521; 10.536; 11.29; 11.49) before it occurs in the Daitales. It is therefore reasonable that this Aristophanes’ character must ask what this “Homeric gloss” means. Instead of explaining Homeric words, the son requires his brother to explain some archaic judicial and forensic terms from Solon’s wooden tablets (the obscure ἰδύους for ’witnesses’ and the archaic ὀπύειν for ’to wed’).¹² The use of the syntagma Ὁμήρου γλώττας is crucial, as the term γλῶττα must have been first used in this sense at around the time of the performance of the Daitales. ¹³ Democritus is also credited with the word; Diogenes Laertius

 The meaning of ὀπύειν remains open, as the text is corrupt. In some lexica it is quoted as a Homeric word, but it may have been employed as a juridical term with a sexual double-entendre (cf. Hesych. 466: βινεῖν· παρὰ Σόλωνι τὸ βίᾳ μίγνυσθαι. τὸ δὲ κατὰ νόμον ὀπύειν, “in Solon “to rape”, (when) according to law (then) ὀπύειν). Apion Gramm., Fragmenta de glossis Homericis (Neitzel) (1st cent. CE) fr. 88 l. 1; 2. Apollonius Soph., Lexicon Homericum. (1-2 cent. CE) P. 122 l. 9). On ὀπύειν see Henderson 1991, 157 and Olson 2002, 145: “Archaic language, attested elsewhere before the late Classical period only in high poetry, in a marriage of the law of Solon (ap. Plu. Sol. 20, 2), and repeatedly in the Cretan Gortyn law code (sixth to fith centuries BCE, IC iv. 72. Col. Vii. i, 16, 20 – 21, etc.)”. On the use of the authority of Solon in comedy, see Martin 2015 (on this fragment see esp. p. 80).  Almost a hundred years after, the use of the term γλῶττα is discussed by Aristotle. See Lucas 1968, 204. For Aristotle, who relied on a tradition that must have existed before him, γλῶττα belongs to the tools of a poet and is one of the main lexic and stylistic criteria of epic (heroic) poetry, alongside compound words typical for the dithyramb and metaphors for iambics. Aris-

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mentions a title of a treatise by Democritus, the Περὶ Ὁμήρου ἢ Ὀρθοεπείης καὶ γλωσσέων (DK 68 A33, 11). The title suggests a distinction between correct language usage and archaic vocabulary, and this requires explanation. If the title is correct, and Democritus did in fact write this treatise, this must have been a kind of a Homeric-Attic dictionary, perhaps one of the proto-dictionaries dating back to the fifth century BCE which served as a source for scholia minora, or the so-called D[idymus]-scholia.¹⁴ Such dictionaries looked like lists and were used by school children. They explained Homeric expressions, translating them into contemporary Attic.¹⁵ We have other examples of discourses on Homeric criticism finding their place on the Athenian comic stage. According to a short unattributed fragment, Cratinus seems to have ridiculed Homer (Ὁμήρου κωμῳδηθέντος ὑπὸ Κρατίνου) for his repeated use (διὰ τὸ πλεονάσαι) of the reply-formula τὸν/τὴν δ’ ἀπαμειβόμενος (“and he answered him/her”, Cratin. incert. fr. 355 PCG = Porphyry ap. Euseb. Praep. Ev. 10.3.21).¹⁶ This formula in fact appears fifty-two times in the Iliad and fifty-eight times in the Odyssey, in all cases at the beginning of the verse. It is unclear from the quotation context whether Homer was mentioned explicitly by name, or whether Cratinus made one of his characters (mis)use the formula so that the audience would recognise the Homeric expression. In either case this should serve as further proof that discourses on Homeric criticism were so popular that an audience should have understood a joke on Homeric pleonasm. Whether Cratinus parodied Homeric criticism itself or a specific Homeric critic, or whether this was his own observation on the Homeric style, is irrelevant. Even if we assume that this was Cratinus’ own joke, he was neverthe-

totle prefers the words typical of the heroic style, γλῶτται, to current words, κύρια (Arist. Poet. 1459a9 – 10, 1461a10, Rhet. 3, 1406b3, 1404b28). On the fragment in the context of the glossographic tradition, see Pontani 2011, 32 and 117– 126. On the notion ‘term’, see above p. 26.  DK68 A33.11 (= Diog. Laert. 9.48). Thus, for example, Democritus read as scriptio continua the adjective μελανόστου instead of μέλανος τοῦ in Il. 21.252 and interpreted the ’gloss’ (Δημόκριτον ἱστορεῖν ἐπὶ τοῦ ἀετοῦ τὰ ὀστᾶ μέλανα εἶναι, DK68 B22 = D195 Laks-Most = Porph. Quaest. hom. I 274.9 Schrad. on Il. 21.252). See Fronmüller 1901 and Philippson 1929, 167– 175. See also Ford 2002, 165 – 172, and Janko 2011, 208 – 215.  Latacz 2000, 3 – 4; Pfeiffer 1968, 41– 42 and 78 – 79. There are several examples of such Homeric-Attic studies in which Homer is quoted and interpreted and Homeric words are systematically replaced by Attic (Pl. Gorg. 485d, Xen. Mem. 1.2.58 – 59, Aeschin. 1 (Timarchos) passim; Ford 1999). Cf. Plat. Resp. 3, 393d-394e: a summary paraphrase of Il. 1.12– 42. On the significance of early Homeric studies to the development of the Scholia minora, see Henrichs 1971, esp. 99 – 101.  Olson & Seaberg 2018, 151. On the marked meaning of ἀμείβεσθαι in performative Archaic poetry as “to take turns”, see Collins 2004, 169 – 175. On the spatial dimension of formulaic lines introducing and concluding speeches, see Zanker 2019, 105 – 106.

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less clearly writing in a culture that was interested in such an issue and for an audience that would appreciate it. Thus, if the evidence from Eusebius is correct, Cratinus was influenced by contemporary (discourses on) Homeric criticism.

7.2 Herodotus on Homeric studies Various contemporary genres reflected the dissemination of Homeric criticism over the course of the fifth century BCE. Thus, Homeric criticism is famously woven into Herodotus’ narrative.¹⁷ In book 2 and book 4 Herodotus discusses the question of the authenticity and authorship of the epic poems Epigoni and Cypria, which he believed to have not been composed by Homer.¹⁸ Homer speaks about Hyperboreans in the poem Epigoni, says Herodotus, “if Homer truly composed these epics” (εἰ δὴ τῷ ἐόντι γε Ὅμηρος ταῦτα τὰ ἔπεα ἐποίησε, Hdt. 4.32). Criticism of the Cypria, echoed by Herodotus (Hdt. 2.117), is based on a content comparison between two passages from the Iliad and the Cypria, in which Paris’ route from Sparta to Troy is described. In the Cypria, according to Herodotus, it was stated that Paris came from Sparta and arrived in Troy on the third day, bringing Helen with him. He experienced a gentle breeze and a calm sea. In the Iliad it is stated that Paris went wandering and brought Helen with him to Troy. An identical author is ruled out, as the content is given in a contradictory way: in the Iliad Paris is supposed to have arrived at Troy with Helen via Sidon (Il. 6.289 – 292), whilst the Cypria, at least the version known to Herodotus or to his source, did not narrate the storm and the stopover in Sidon, Paris’ route to Troy being direct.¹⁹ Following these verses, “it is not least but at the very best clear” (οὐκ ἥκιστα ἀλλὰ μάλιστα δηλοῖ) that the Cyprian epic is not composed by Homer (οὐκ Ὁμήρου τὰ Κύπρια ἔπεά ἐστι) but by somebody else (ἀλλ’ ἄλλου τινός). It is probable that multiple and varied versions of the epics circulated (cf. Paus. 7.26.13: ἔπη τὰ Ὁμήρου διεσπασμένα τε καὶ ἄλλα ἀλλαχοῦ

 Hecataeus also examined the Homeric and Hesiodic text in his genealogical work, as the extant fragments reveal. See examples in Bertelli 1998, 20 n. 33, and Bertelli 2001.  On the attestation of Homeric exegesis in Herodotus, see Farinelli 1995, Graziosi 2002, 114– 124; Ford 2002, 146 – 152; Nicolai 2003, 81– 109; Biondi 2015, 40 – 41.  On Herodotus’ method of argumentation, Lloyd 1988, 50 – 51 and Lloyd 1975, 160 – 165. Cf. Proclus’ version and Sammons 2017, 236 – 238 on numerous Archaic versions of the Cypria (as Proclus rendered it, this included the stay at Sidon). See also Finkelberg 2000, and Burgess 2002.

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μνημονευόμενα, “the verses of Homer, which were scattered and recorded sometimes here, sometimes there”). A process of proto-collatio is referred to here, in the sense of an exact comparison of texts in terms of their completeness and accuracy.²⁰ This is our earliest extant attestation of the question of authenticity based on the analysis of the text.²¹

7.3 Democritus and Homeric studies Democritus wrote a number of literary/poetic/musical treatises, of which only the titles of a few survive. The titles correspond to key words of contemporary scholarly discourses. If we believe Diogenes Laertius, the list contains works on poetry such as On Poetry (Περὶ ποιήσιος), On the Beauty of Verses (Περὶ καλλοσύνης ἐπέων), On Song (Περὶ ἀοιδῆς), works on music and language structure such as On Rhythms and Harmony (Περὶ ῥυθμῶν καὶ ἁρμονίης), On Phrases (Περὶ ῥημάτων), On Well- and Ill-Sounding Letters (Περὶ εὐφώνων καὶ δυσφώνων γραμμάτων), and finally some lexicographical titles such as On Homer, or On Correctness of Diction and Obsolete Words (Περὶ ῾Ομήρου ἢ ὀρθοεπείης καὶ γλωσσέων) and a Vocabulary (᾿Ονομαστικῶν (βιβλίον), DK68 A33 = Diog. Laert. 9.48). The titles reveal that textual interpretation, literary criticism and language studies were an essential element of Democritus’ scholarship.²² Scanty surviving fragments from Democritus’ work on the analysis of poetry reveal his focus on exegetical tools.²³ Thus Democritus comments on Il. 7.390, in which the Trojan herald Idaeus made a speech about Paris in front of Achaean men “oh he should better have perished before!” (ὡς πρὶν ὤφελλ’ ἀπολέσθαι, DK68 B23 = D222 Laks-Most = Schol. Hom. Α Il. 7, 390). Idaeus’ mission is to declare that Paris is ready to give back the Achaean treasures that he had brought in ships to Troy. In the middle of his message, he exclaims that Paris had to perish before this would happen. The scholiast explains the broader context of the problem; either the herald was addressing this remark to the Greeks (εἴτε καὶ

 Willi 2008, 15, f. 32.  Note Ford’s observation that early Greek historians approached epic as if it were a divine authority, treating epic authors as a source of historical information (Ford 2002, 146 – 152). As Ford argues, “The historicization of poetry was abetted by the use of written texts not only as archival material but as documents perused outside the theater and away from rhapsodic performance” (Ford 2002, 152).  See Brancacci 2007 in detail.  On Democritus’ exegesis of Homer, see Fronmüller 1901; Philippson 1929, 167– 175; Grintser 2017b, 23 – 27.

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τοῖς Ἕλλησιν εἰς ἐπήκοον λέγει ὁ κῆρυξ) so that they come to an agreement with the Trojans, (πρὸς τὸ συγγνωμονεῖν τοῖς ἄλλοις Τρωσὶν) who in the mean time have become angry with Paris also, or he pronounces it to himself and quietly (εἴτε καθ’ ἑαυτὸν καὶ ἠρέμα). Here the scholiast adds: “as thinks Democritus” (ὡς Δημόκριτος ἀξιοῖ). Democritus believed that it would have been improper (ἀπρεπὲς) had the herald spoken this openly/manifestly (τὸ φανερῶς λέγεσθαι), and that it should therefore have been punctuated on either side (ἀμφότερα προστικτέον). As in the fragment DK68 B22 = D195 Laks-Most (discussed above) about the alleged adjective μελανόστου instead of μέλανος τοῦ in Il. 21.252, it is evident that Democritus was commenting on a written text. Furthermore, Democritus had speculated how to connect emotions in poetry (the Homeric exclamation is an emotional act) with the act of writing, and how to punctuate intonation and emotion in a written form. If the whole passage belongs to Democritus’ ἀξιοῖ ἀπρεπὲς ἡγησάμενος, then the vocabulary ἀμφότερα προστικτέον might be Democritean. This then may well be one of the very earliest critical reflections on punctuation.²⁴ Democritus discussed the Odyssey also. In book 12 Circe tells Odysseus about the impossibility of a ship to passing the wandering rocks (Planctae, v. 61: Πλαγκτὰς δή τοι τάς γε θεοὶ μάκαρες καλέουσι). Neither birds could pass this way, nor even the timid doves (πέλειαι τρήρωνες) who bear ambrosia to Zeus (ταί τ’ ἀμβροσίην Διὶ πατρὶ φέρουσιν, Od. 12.59 – 63). Eustathius explained that there were those who interpret Zeus allegorically as the Sun (Δία μὲν νοοῦσι τὸν ἥλιον); Plato was probably among these since Eustathius quoted Plato’s Phaedrus 246e4– 5. Ambrosia means here (in the Odyssey) the moist vapours (ἀμβροσίαν δὲ τὰς ἀτμίδας) by which the sun is nourished (αἷς ὁ ἥλιος τρέφεται), as Democritus also thinks (καθὰ δοξάζει καὶ Δημόκριτος, DK68 B25 = D224 LaksMost = Eusth. 11, 14– 16). Eustathius referred to Aristotle, claiming that he interpreted this passage allegorically (᾿Aριστοτέλης δέ φασιν ἀλληγορικῶς).²⁵ However, it is probable that both Democritus and Aristotle understood this passage meteorologically and naturalistically (φυσικῶς).²⁶ Again, here Democritus’ close reading of the Homeric text was significant, as the Homeric text was scrutinised by Democritus and applied to contemporary scientific theories.²⁷

 For the idea that Democritus here ascribed dramatic affects to the epic text, see Fronmüller 1901, 49 – 66.  On early allegories and allegoresis, see below pp. 164– 165.  On Aristotle’s mythic and scientific, but hardly allegorical, interpretation of this Homeric passage in his Homeric Problems, see Mayhew 2019, 177– 187.  Domaradzki 2019, 7– 8; Laks and Most 2016d, 1037 n. 2.

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In his commentary to Odyssey 15 Eustathius reports that the swineherd Eumaeus’ mother had various names according to different traditions. The fact that Democritus called her Penia (poverty) is all we learn about Democritus’ reading of the Homeric text here (Eust. Od. 15, 376 ff. p. 1784 = DK68 B24 = D223 LaksMost). Various attempts have been made to ascribe allegoresis to Democritus’ interpretation, but the context of the quoted fragment is not sufficient to distinguish between a literal and an allegorical interpretation.²⁸ On two occasions Democritus makes poetological arguments about inspiration, which should be read with the Archaic tradition of divine and human potential in the creative act in mind. Homer, claimed Democritus, was endowed with a divinely-acting nature (φύσεως λαχὼν θεαζούσης) and he built a structure out of all sorts of verses (ἐπέων κόσμον ἐτεκτήνατο παντοίων’, DK68 B21 = D221 Laks-Most).²⁹ The quotation-cover text of Dio Chrysostom explains the context of Democritus’ quotation; at the beginning of Dio’s speech On Homer he starts “Democritus says about Homer the following” (Ὁ μὲν Δημόκριτος περὶ Ὁμήρου φησὶν οὕτως). Further down Dio explains that without a holy and divine nature (ἄνευ θείας καὶ δαιμονίας φύσεως) it would have been impossible to produce such beautiful and clever verses (οὕτως καλὰ καὶ σοφὰ ἔπη ἐργάσασθαι, Dio 53.1). Both key words ‘nature’ (φύσις) and ‘beauty/order/properness’ (κόσμος) are noteworthy.³⁰ φύσις as referring to the creative power of a poet is a key term in natural philosophy, the term bringing with it an entire background of works written on nature during the second half of the fifth century BCE. κόσμος as “beautiful design/order” is a key word for Homer and Archaic poetics.³¹ In Democritus, it may perhaps be described as “a coherent and intelligible, if no doubt ornamental, whole”.³² Democritus’ fragment mirrors the contemporary (or perhaps slightly later) account by Xenophon about Socrates. Socrates not only wanted to avoid discussing the nature of the universe (τῶν πάντων φύσεως), about which most people talked so much (ᾗπερ τῶν ἄλλων οἱ πλεῖστοι), but also avoided investigating in what way “the so-called order by the sophists” functions (ὅπως ὁ καλούμενος

 Morgan 2000, 99 – 100; Richardson 2006b, 204 n. 68; Domaradzki 2019, 9.  On ἐτεκτήνατο and the current imagery of carpentry in literary criticism, cf. Pind. Pyth. 3.113: ἐξ ἐπέων κελαδεννῶν, τέκτονες οἷα σοφοί, Nem. 3, 4– 5: μελιγαρύων τέκτονες κώμων νεανίαι; Cratin. fr. 70 PCG: τέκτονες εὐπαλάμων ὕμνων. See Nünlist 1998, 98 – 107.  Ford 2002, 169 – 170.  On the notion of κόσμος see Halliwell 2011, 84– 88 with bibliography, and Martin 2016, 297– 303.  Ford 2002, 170.

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ὑπὸ τῶν σοφιστῶν κόσμος ἔχει), and on which principles celestial phenomena take place (τίσιν ἀνάγκαις ἕκαστα γίγνεται τῶν οὐρανίων). Socrates added that those who dealt with such issues were stupid (τοὺς φροντίζοντας τὰ τοιαῦτα μωραίνοντας ἀπεδείκνυε, Xen. Mem. 1.1.11).³³ Democritus and Xenophon are discussing quite different things, but Democritus employs vocabulary belonging to the Zeitgeist to describe poetic creativity, and Xenophon in turn provides a metadiscourse on this vocabulary, proffering the reasons why Socrates criticised it. Our second fragment treating poetological concerns is DK68 B18 = D217 Laks-Most: whatever a poet writes (ποιητὴς δὲ ἅσσα μὲν ἂν γράφηι) with inspiration and divine breath (μετ’ ἐνθουσιασμοῦ καὶ ἱεροῦ πνεύματος), is very beautiful (καλὰ κάρτα ἐστίν).³⁴ The fragment shows the first use in Greek of the noun ἐνθουσιασμός, but the concept of divine poetic inspiration is, as has been discussed elsewhere, much older.³⁵ Such discourse and vocabulary are seen used paradigmatically in dialogues that were contemporary to Democritus, such as Plato’s Ion where Socrates claims that the poet functions as a tool of the divinity. Whilst explaining the metaphor of the magnet, Socrates argues that people are inspired by the Muse (Μοῦσα ἐνθέους μὲν ποιεῖ αὐτή), and then by means of these inspired persons (διὰ δὲ τῶν ἐνθέων τούτων) inspiration was dispersed to others (ἄλλων ἐνθουσιαζόντων), thus creating a chain. For all that, good epic poets sang their fine poems not from skill (οὐκ ἐκ τέχνης), but as though inspired and possessed (ἀλλ’ ἔνθεοι ὄντες καὶ κατεχόμενοι, Pl. Ion 533e).³⁶ In Plato’s Phaedrus too it is argued that there is a possession and madness (κατοκωχή τε καὶ μανία) that comes from the Muses. This madness, capturing a gentle and innocent soul, arouses it and inspires it to songs and other poetry (ἐγείρουσα καὶ ἐκβακχεύουσα κατά τε ᾠδὰς καὶ κατὰ τὴν ἄλλην ποίησιν). However, if anybody without the madness (ἄνευ μανίας) comes to the poetic gates of the Muses (Μουσῶν ἐπὶ ποιητικὰς θύρας ἀφίκηται), deeply persuaded that he will be a good poet merely from skill (ἐκ τέχνης ἱκανὸς ποιητὴς ἐσόμενος), he would not achieve his aim. Both his own poetry and that of anyone sane would be eclipsed (ἡ τοῦ σωφρονοῦντος ἠφανίσθη) by the poetry of inspired madmen (ἡ ποίησις ὑπὸ τῆς τῶν μαινομένων, Pl. Phdr. 245a). Poetic madness was a criterion not only of Homer criticism and more generally of epic criticism. In the fifth century BCE with the increasing dissemination

 Dreßler 2014, 313 – 314. On Anaxagoras as Socrates’ target in Xenophon’s passage, see Moore 2020, 162– 163.  Ford 2002, 168 – 169.  Harriott 1969, 78 – 91.  Cf. also Pl. Ion 534a-536d. See Ferrari 1989, 92– 99; Murray 1996, 6 – 12, 112– 115; Büttner 2011; Ferroni and Macé, 2018, 77– 98. See also Capuccino 2011.

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of the ecstatic cult of Dionysus throughout Greece and the subsequent popularity of the genres of dithyramb and tragedy, Dionysiac possession started to be portrayed on stage. The image of a poet inspired and brought to a state of ecstasy by divine power thus became widespread.³⁷ The dithyramb, characterised by Aristotle as orgiastic and emotional (ὀργιαστικὰ καὶ παθητικά, Arist. Pol. 8.1342b3), is described several times in Archaic and Classical texts. An early example is Archilochus’ self-referential claim in a fragment of knowing (οἶδα) how “to lead off the beautiful song, the dithyramb, of lord Dionysus” (Διωνύσου ἄνακτος καλὸν ἐξάρξαι μέλος) when his “mind is thunderstruck with wine” (οἴνωι συγκεραυνωθεὶς φρένας, fr. 120 IEG).³⁸ This mental state connected to Dionysus creates a fitting precondition for the poetic act. Sicilian and Old Attic comedy provide several allusions to Dionisiac inspiration. Epicharmus in his comedy Philoctetes says that there could be no dithyramb when water was all that was drunk (ὅκχ’ ὕδωρ πίηις, Epich. fr. 131 PCG). Cratinus links the drinking of wine more explicitly to poetic creativity, claiming that a water-drinker could not give birth to anything wise/clever (ὕδωρ δὲ πίνων οὐδὲν ἂν τέκοι σοφόν, Cratin. fr. 203, 2 PCG).³⁹ The final passage that I will discuss to correspond with Democritus’ poetological fragments is in Plato’s Apology. Here, Socrates claims that the poets compose their poems not thanks to their skill (οὐ σοφίᾳ ποιοῖεν ἃ ποιοῖεν), but by some sort of nature, while inspired (φύσει τινὶ καὶ ἐνθουσιάζοντες) like diviners and prophets (Pl. Apol. 22c). The correspondence of the vocabulary of poetic inspiration such as μετ’ ἐνθουσιασμοῦ καὶ ἱεροῦ πνεύματος and φύσεως λαχὼν θεαζούσης in Democritus, with ἐνθουσιάζοντες and ἄλλων ἐνθουσιαζόντων, but also ἔνθεοι ὄντες καὶ κατεχόμενοι, κατοκωχή τε καὶ μανία, ἐκβακχεύουσα and φύσει τινὶ in Plato is striking. What differs is the use of a verb denoting the poets’ activity. Plato continuously uses the verb ποιεῖν to refer to the poetic act, whilst Democritus employs γράφειν in a unique surviving passage in which he explicitly describes what it is that a poet does (ποιητὴς δὲ ἅσσα μὲν ἂν γράφηι).⁴⁰ The evidence is not sufficient to draw a firm conclusion from this, but Democritus’ relationship with the poetic text in its written form is evident. The poet-musician

 Tigerstedt 1970.  Swift 2019, 304– 306.  Bakola 2010, 17, 56 – 57. On the metaphor of drinking, see Biles 2011, 138 – 146. On the metaphor of giving birth here, see Leitao 2012, 124– 125.  For the use of vocabulary of writing pertaining to epic poetry in the Classical period, see above e.g. pp. 71– 77 and in particular Gorg. Hel. DK82 B11, 21.4. For a close parallel in comedy to ποιητὴς δὲ ἅσσα μὲν ἂν γράφηι in Democritus, see some decades later Philem. fr. 99, 5 – 7 PCG on Homer: μυριάδας ἐπῶν γράφει. See Mastellari 2022.

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is a writer (ποιητὴς δὲ ἅσσα μὲν ἂν γράφηι, DK68 B18 = D217 Laks-Most), and punctuation of emotional statements within an epic text are required (ἀμφότερα προστικτέον, DK68 B23 = D222 Laks-Most). The surviving fragments from Democritus are short and lack context; we therefore cannot be sure of their connection to his atomist theory and scientific studies. However, divine breath and inspiration (μετ’ ἐνθουσιασμοῦ καὶ ἱεροῦ πνεύματος) as well as a divinely acting nature (φύσεως θεαζούσης) reveal an argument in the ongoing debates on the nature and principles of the poetic act. Aristotle at one point refers to Democritus as a scientist since he analysed Homer for scientific purposes. Democritus believed that soul and mind were simply the same (ἁπλῶς ταὐτὸν ψυχὴν καὶ νοῦν), argues Aristotle, for the truth is what it appears to be (τὸ γὰρ ἀληθὲς εἶναι τὸ φαινόμενον). Homer did well to suggest (καλῶς ποιῆσαι) that Hector lay ‘with his mind elsewhere’ (ὁ Ἕκτωρ κεῖτ’ ἀλλοφρονέων). Homer does not use the mind as a certain power for the truth (ὡς δυνάμει τινὶ περὶ τὴν ἀλήθειαν), but rather presents soul and mind as the same (DK68 A101 = D130 Laks-Most = Arist. De anim. 404a27). According to Aristotle, Democritus quoted verses that do not exist in our standard text of the Iliad: ἀλλοφρονέων (Il. 23.698) referring to the wounded Euryalus, and the description of the wounded Hector showing his soul leaving his speech (ψυχὴ δ’ ἐκ ῥεθέων πταμένη Ἄϊδόσδε βεβήκει “his soul flying from his limbs has gone to Hades”, Il. 22.361). In Il. 14.438 – 439 when Hector is wounded by Ajax he is described as τὼ δέ οἱ ὄσσε νὺξ ἐκάλυψε μέλαινα (“and black night closed both his eyes”) and then later as Ἕκτορα δ’ ἐν πεδίῳ ἴδε κείμενον (“and he saw Hector lying on the plain”, Il. 15.9). The verb κεῖσθαι is therefore used in reference to Hector, though without ἀλλοφρονέων. In all probability, it is Aristotle who was quoting Homer and not Democritus, as in his Metaphysics 3 he refers to the ’other-thinking’ Hector suffering from the wound with the very same verb κεῖσθαι (ὅτι ἐποίησε τὸν Ἕκτορα, ὡς ἐξέστη ὑπὸ τῆς πληγῆς, κεῖσθαι ἀλλοφρονέοντα, Arist. Met. 3. 5.1009b28 – 30). If Democritus was in fact quoting Homer, then we would have to accept that there was a different text version of the Iliad where the participle ἀλλοφρονέων was related to wounded Hector. In this case both Democritus and Aristotle would have had access to this version of the text. If, on the other hand, we accept that this was a mistake or a quotation made from memory, then it was Aristotle who committed the mistake, as he quotes this passage twice in the same manner. It is improbable that both Democritus and Aristotle made such a rare error from memory in-

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dependently.⁴¹ Nevertheless, ἀλλοφρονέων is a Homeric participle that is used to illustrate the scientific balance of soul and mind, the verb ἀλλοφρονέω meaning both ’to think of other things’ and ’to be senseless’.⁴² Finally, two scientific allegoreses should be mentioned here as a proof that scientific and literary discourses were intermingled. Democritus notably identified Athena with thought (φρόνησις νομίζεται) and etymologised her common epithet Τριτογένεια. Two sources paraphrase this etymology in different words but with a similar sense; Democritus’ original sense is thus clear. From thought three things are born (γίνεται δὲ ἐκ τοῦ φρονεῖν τρία ταῦτα), explained Democritus: good deliberation (βουλεύεσθαι καλῶς / εὖ λογίζεσθαι), speaking without errors (λέγειν ἀναμαρτήτως/εὖ λέγειν) and doing proper things (πράττειν ἃ δεῖ, DK68 B2 = D293 Laks-Most = Etym. Orion. p. 153, 5 = Schol. Genev. I 111 Nic.). Τριτογένεια occurs in various epic texts. Democritus’ etymologising cannot therefore be referred to a specific literary text, but rather to his treatment of epic vocabulary in toto. ⁴³ Democritus’ contemporary Diogenes of Apollonia wrote yet another Περὶ Φύσεως, some fragments of which are preserved. Here Diogenes argued that air was the one source of all being, and, as a primal force, was intelligent, other substances being derived from it by condensation and rarefaction. He is said to have praised Homer (ἐπαι[νεῖ] τὸν Ὅμηρον) for having discoursed (διειλεγμένον) not in a mythical way, but according to the truth (ο[ὐ] μυθικ[ῶς] ἀλλ’ ἀληθῶς) about the divine. He is alleged to have asserted that Homer considered the air to be Zeus himself (τὸν ἀέρα γὰρ αὐτὸν Δία νομίζειν φησίν) since Homer states that Zeus knows everything (ἐπειδὴ πᾶν εἰδέναι τὸν Δία λέγει, DK64 A8 = R14, R17, R19 Laks-Most = LM T6 = Philod. Piet. col. 336).⁴⁴ Diogenes’ πᾶν εἰδέναι τὸν Δία might include a word-pun, as Δία means both ’Zeus’ and ’throughout’. As Zeus knows everything, he must be like the air (τὸν ἀέρα) which passes through everything. The reference to Homer saying (λέγει) that Zeus knows everything might allude to Il. 24.88: Ζεὺς ἄφθιτα μήδεα εἰδώς

 On the concussed Hector being ’other-thinking’ in Aristotle’s Metaphysics, which occurs in the context of a natural philosophical discourse on cognition, see Tor 2017, 190 – 192.  See Domaradzki 2019, 8 – 9, who nevertheless ignores the problem of the double quotation of the verse by Aristotle and simply notes: “We may rather safely assume that Democritus and/or Aristotle quoted the poet from memory”.  Cf. Τριτογένεια in Il. 4.515; 8.39; 22.183; Od. 3.378; Hymn. Hom. Min. 4; Hes. Theog. 895; [Scut.] 197. On etymologising as a technique of interpretation, see Domaradzki 2019, 10 – 11.  Cf. Aesch. fr. 70 TrGF: Ζεύς ἐστιν αἰθήρ, Ζεὺς δὲ γῆ, Ζεὺς δ’ οὐρανός, / Ζεύς τοι τὰ πάντα χὥ τι τῶνδ‘ ὑπέρτερον. On the identification of Zeus with Aether, see the fifth-century BCE parallels in Billings 2021, 174– 175.

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or to Od. 20.75: ὁ γάρ τ’ ἐῢ οἶδεν ἅπαντα. Furthermore, Zeus is constantly called ’cloud-gatherer’ (νεφεληγερέτα) in Homer and Hesiod, and Empedocles seems to have referred to the air in the same way (ἀέρα … νεφεληγερέτην, DK31 B148 = D20 Laks-Most, DK31 B149 = D143 Laks-Most, DK31 B150 = D196 LaksMost).⁴⁵ The scientific reading of epic verses constitutes a clear example of the overlap between spheres of thought. Words from epic pass into both scientific discourse and literary scholarship in the same way, with epic and other texts mined for their descriptions of the world and language. Our evidence on Democritus’ abundant works comes only from fragments. However, alongside the surviving titles and certain testimonies, these fragments are sufficient to conclude that the name Democritus could have served as a metonymy for fifth century BCE scholarship. Like the brew stewing in a cauldron, enacted scholarly discourses were mixed and mingled in the work of Democritus, who wrote on mathematics, nature and the natural sciences and ethics, as well as on poetics and language. The mutual interdependence of his treatment of each of these proto-disciplines is self-evident. Divine breath and divine inspiration, as well as nature acting through the divine, are used to trace an argument on the nature and principles of the poetic act (DK68 B18 = D217 Laks-Most and DK 68 B21 = D221 LaksMost). Hence the reasons for the notions φύσις and κόσμος being significant, which are juxtaposed in DK68 B21= D221 Laks-Most. These notions reveal the interaction of scientific and Archaic poetic discourses. Nevertheless, Democritus’ association of the poetic act with the act of writing (DK68 B18 = D217 LaksMost and DK 68 B23 = D222 Laks-Most) attests to an approach that was oriented towards the scholarly.

7.4 Other fragments on Homeric criticism The earliest Homeric critics were notably referred to by Eustathius as those who ’solved’ Homeric problems, οἱ τῶν Ὁμηρικῶν ἀποριῶν λυτικοὶ or οἱ παλαιοὶ λυτικοὶ.⁴⁶ All extant attestations of early Homeric studies are from later sources and allow for the reconstruction of scholarly processes related to the Classical

 Cf. Cratin. fr. 258, 4– 5 PCG (Kheirones) ὃν δὴ κεφαληγερέταν θεοὶ καλέουσιν (“whom the Gods call the head-gatherer”), where Pericles is mocked for his disproportionate head, and the joke is based on the same epic epithet of Zeus.  See e. g. Eusth. Comm. Iliad. 4, 24, 26 and 4, 603, 9 (van der Valk). On the methodological questions of early criticism, see below pp. 191– 196.

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age, with certain caveats.⁴⁷ Thus one of the earliest Homeric ’scholars’ is, according to the ancient tradition, Theagenes of Rhegium who is mentioned in the Sch. Hom. A on Il. 1.381 ἐπεὶ μάλα οἱ φίλος ἦεν (“for he was very dear to him”) for quoting variants of the Homeric text (Theag. DK8 A3).⁴⁸ According to Seleucus of Alexandria, Theagenes quoted this verse (Θεαγένης δὲ οὕτως προφέρεται) with a rhapsodic variant ἐπεί ῥά νύ οἱ φίλος ἦεν (“for thus now he was dear to him”) found in the Cypriot and Cretan editions (ἐν τῇ Κυπρίᾳ καὶ Κρητικῇ). The explanation follows: for it sounds improbable that “he was in fact very dear” (ἀπίθανον γὰρ τὸ “ὁ δέ νυ λίαν φίλος ἦν”). All manuscripts and papyri read ἐπεὶ μάλα οἱ φίλος ἦεν (’for he (Chryses) was very dear to him (to Apollo)‘), whilst Theagenes quoted ῥά νύ (“thus now”) instead of μάλα (“very”), a reading which is found in the Cyprian and Cretan editions (although it is unclear which period exactly they belong to). The scholiast’s explanation seems corrupt, but the reading should be regarded as part of the defence of the gods against the charge of inappropriate behaviour. According to the scholiast, it is unlikely that Apollo loved Chryses so dearly to excess (using in his explanation λίαν as a synonym for the Homeric μάλα). This moralising variant was aimed at eliminating impious criticism of Apollo on the part of Achilles for loving Chryses too much.⁴⁹ The verse may provide evidence that Theagenes’ motivation in dealing with textual issues was to resolve the meaning of morally problematic passages. The verb προφέρεται, which describes Theagenes’ either oral or written activity with regard to this reading, here means ‘proferring’; the reading ῥά νύ was thus present either in Theagenes’ performance as rhapsode (testified by somebody as such) or attested in Theagenes’ written work.⁵⁰ However, the evidence concerning Theagenes is too scarce and unclear to provide a sufficient explanation for his access to the Homeric transmission at this early age.⁵¹ It follows from the scholium that the same reading is transmitted by the “Creto-Cyprian” version and that of Theagenes. Rhegium, Theagenes’ hometown, had a friendly relationship with Elea, founded by Greeks from the Ionian city Phocaea (on the western coast of Anatolia) in around 540 – 535 BCE. Being a Eu-

 See the overview in Richardson 2006a.  Though in West, Rhegium was an Euboean colony and therefore Ionian. On Sch. Hom. A on Il. 1.381, besides Erbse 1969 – 1988 ad loc., see Ludwich 1884, 1.192, Müller 1891, 35 – 36, González 2013, 156 – 159. On Theagenes working with written copies of Homeric text, see Cassio 2002, 118 – 119; Cassio 2012, 254– 255; Biondi 2015, 49 – 56.  Biondi 2015, 51.  González 2013, 157 and Dickey 2007, 257.  See more on this point in the review Novokhatko 2018a on Biondi 2015.

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boian colony, Rhegium benefited from its connections, the Euboeans being among the first to write down poetic texts (the famous Cup of Nestor from Pithekoussai on the island of Ischia (c. 725 BCE) is outstanding evidence for this).⁵² It remains significant that all major Euboean colonies in Western Greece such as the other Phocaen colony of Massalia and the city-edition from Massalia showed an interest in Homer, an interest which later transformed itself into ‘Homeric studies’.⁵³ Rhegium was famous for one of the oldest statues of Homer (the alleged Olympian dedications made by Micythus of Rhegium date to around 470 BCE).⁵⁴ The first author of the ’History of Sicily’, Hippys of Rhegium (5th c. BCE), is perhaps mentioned in the papyrus commentary to Il. 21.139 ff.⁵⁵ The so-called Peisistratean ’commission’ is linked to a particular geographic region with names that were significant to early textual studies.⁵⁶ The place of origin of two of the three or four alleged members of this ’commission’, Orpheus of Croton and Zopyrus of Heraclea or Tarentum, suggests that something ’Homeric’ was happening in Magna Graecia, the Western Greek worlds proving a centre for the growth of ‘scholarship’.⁵⁷ However, even if the chronology and the provenance of these poets and scholars are correct, we cannot know whether they were educated in their homeland, or in Athens, following their arrival at the court of Peisistratus. Metrodorus of Lampsacus may have also written about Homeric textual problems.⁵⁸ He hailed from the eastern shore of the Hellespont and was known to be from the circle of Anaxagoras.⁵⁹

 On placing Theagenes within a discussion of the environment of western Greece, and Rhegium in particular, see Cassio 1999, 82 and Biondi 2015, 53 – 54.  Cantarella 1967, 54– 62 and Biondi 2015, 55.  Hdt. 7.170, Paus. 5.26.2, Diod. 11, 48 – 66. See Biondi 2015, 55. A further piece of evidence for a certain familiarity with the Homeric texts in the region is the so-called ‘Inscription Painter’ from Rhegium (active in 570 – 530 BCE) who portrayed Homeric scenes and spelled the names of Odysseus, Diomedes and Rhesus on the Chalcidian Black-Figure Neck Amphora. See Giuliani 2010.  P. Oxy. II 221, where Protagoras’ comment on the Iliad is preserved.  On Peisistratean ’commission’ see Allen 1924, 225 – 248; Davison 1955; Graziosi 2002, 206 – 208; Nagy 2010a, 20 – 28; Dué & Ebbott 2010; Andersen 2011; Lucarini 2019, 397– 400. On Byzantine transmission of this story, see Varillas Sa´nchez 2017 and Novokhatko 2022.  See Cantarella 1967, Gigante 1983, Cassio and Musti 1989, Cassio and Poccetti 1994, Gentili and Pinzone 2002, and Willi 2008 on Archaic and Classical Sicily.  Metrodorus DK61 A3 (Tatian. Ad Graec. 21): “And Metrodorus of Lampsacus discoursing about Homer (ἐν τῷ Περὶ Ὁμήρου), reasoned very foolishly turning everything into allegory”. On Metrodorus’ allegorical interpretation of Homer, see Califf 2003.  Metrodorus DK61 A2.

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Metrodorus analysed the problematic verses Il. 10.252– 253:⁶⁰ ἄστρα δὲ δὴ προβέβηκε, παροίχωκεν δὲ πλέων νὺξ τῶν δύο μοιράων, τριτάτη δ’ ἔτι μοῖρα λέλειπται the stars have moved onwards, and more than two parts of the night have passed on, and a third part is left alone

The evidence for this is Porphyry of Tyre, who discusses it in his Homeric Questions (DK61 A5 = Porph. Quaest. Hom. ad Il. 10.252). The issue was the tripartite division of the night, which was discussed in various ways by Homeric scholars. Metrodorus explained that the form πλέων in verse 252 has a double meaning (δύο σημαίνειν φησὶ). Metrodorus describes each meaning with Homeric examples (Metrodorus DK61 A5 = Porph. Quaest. Hom. ad Il. 10.252): καὶ γὰρ τὸ σύνηθες, ὡς ὅταν λέγηι νώτου ἀποπροταμών, ἐπὶ δὲ πλεῖον ἐλέλειπτο καὶ ἀλλὰ τὸ μὲν πλεῖον πολυάϊκος πολέμοιο χεῖρες ἐμαὶ διέπουσι for the first is usual, such as one says “after a portion of the chine of [the white-tusked boar] had been cut off, the bigger part (πλεῖον) was however left there” (Od. 8.475) and “but the greater part (τὸ μὲν πλεῖον) of the tumultuous war do my hands rule” (Il. 1.165)

It is unclear what exactly Metrodorus or his paraphraser intends as being ’usual’ (σύνηθες) here. The first meaning of the form πλέων is ’standard’, perhaps in the sense of ’the most typically/frequently used’, that is ’the bigger part of something’. The second meaning, apparently more unusual, follows: σημαίνει καὶ τὸ πλῆρες ὡς ἐν τῶι σὸν δὲ πλεῖον δέπας αἰεὶ ἕστηκε καὶ ἐν τῶι πλεῖαί τοι χαλκοῦ κλισίαι. νῦν οὖν τὸ πλέον ἀντὶ τοῦ πλῆρες εἰρῆσθαι. and the second as well, meaning “full/filled”, such as in “however your cup stands always full (πλεῖον)” (Il. 4.262) and “the huts are filled (πλεῖαί) with bronze for you” (Il. 2.226). Now, here [Metrodorus goes on] the πλέον (“to the bigger part”) is said instead of the πλῆρες (“full/filled”).

The form πλέων can thus be understood and interpreted both as “to the bigger/ greater part” and as “full/filled”. Metrodorus used a complex variety of critical

 On Metrodorus’ Homeric allegoresis, see Westermann 2002, 134– 140. On early Greek allegoresis generally, see Detienne 1962 and Barron 1964. See also Struck 2004, 25 – 29, Del Bello 2005, Obbink 2010 and Domaradzki 2017.

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tools to work with a particular literary text, which can be qualified as scholarly ante litteram. ⁶¹ At least three points deserve a comment here. First, that Metrodorus applies a semantic approach to the text when discussing word meaning and affirming its ambiguity (δύο σημαίνειν φησὶ παρ’ Ὁμήρωι). Second, that the self-confident claim παρ’ Ὁμήρωι presupposed knowledge of Homeric epic, something also confirmed by the examples drawn from both the Iliad and the Odyssey. Third, that it follows from Metrodorus’ comparisons that he was familiar with parts of speech and word forms; to the first group belongs the adverbial meaning of the adjective πολύς in comparative form (ἐπὶ δὲ πλεῖον and τὸ μὲν πλεῖον in Homer respectively), whilst to the second group belongs the declinable adjective form πλέως, πλέα, πλέων (πλεῖον δέπας and πλεῖαι κλισίαι). Metrodorus’ method was perhaps to gather relevant passages from Homeric epic to discuss the meaning and use of words in Homer. The method thus reveals the devices that later were applied to textual criticism, and a critical approach to the Homeric text. The dating of these techniques to the first half of the fifth century BCE cannot however be precise. This example must have been known in the fourth century BCE as Aristotle also considers it, quoting the semi-verse Il. 10.252 παρῴχηκεν δὲ πλέω νύξ and ignoring verse 253 in his discussion of misunderstandings of poetic language in chapter 25 of his Poetics (Arist. Poet. 1461a 25). Some problems should be solved by ambiguity (τὰ δὲ ἀμφιβολίᾳ), says Aristotle, for this πλείω (more/is greater) is ambiguous (ἀμφίβολόν ἐστιν).⁶² This passage (Il. 10.252– 253) remained important for the Alexandrian philologists as well. Perhaps influenced by studies, such as Metrodorus’ example, they deleted verse 253 τῶν δύο μοιράων, τριτάτη δ’ ἔτι μοῖρα λέλειπται (“with two parts of it, and the third part is left alone”) as an unnecessary addition. Zenodotus did not accept the verse in his text, whilst Aristophanes of Byzantium and Aristarchus athetised it.⁶³ In discussing Metrodorus’ studies, we should also consider the sophist Hippias of Elis, who was associated with polymathy and extraordinary memory.⁶⁴ As part of his semantic analysis he seems to have examined the usage of words,

 Richardson 2006a (= 1975), 66 – 68.  Mayhew 2019, 19 – 20.  Cf. Schol. B ad Il. 10.252 = Arist. fr. 385 Gigon (= fr. 161 Rose) on Il. 10.252. See Bolling 1925, 125 – 127.  Untersteiner 1954, 38 – 109. On Hippias see Pl., Hipp. min. 368b-d; Hipp. mai. 285d and Węcowski 2021. On Hippias’ sophistic activities generally see also Nestle 1942, 360 – 371; Dupréel 1948, 185 – 279; Snell 1976 [=1944]; Patzer 1986; Sutton 2005; Moscarelli 2014, 441– 476.

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similar to Metrodorus’ analysis of the form πλέων.⁶⁵ Hippias of Elis is also reported to have explained the usage of the lemma τύραννος (Hypoth. 2 ad Soph. OR = DK86 B9 = D26 Laks-Most). Hippias claimed that this noun (τοῦδε τοῦ ὀνόματος) spread quite late (ὀψέ ποτε, the reference point being the Homeric period) among the Greeks (εἰς τοὺς Ἕλληνας διαδοθέντος), around the time of Archilochus (κατὰ τοὺς ᾿Aρχιλόχου χρόνους). For Homer called Echetus, who was the most outrageous of all, ’king’ and not ’tyrant’ (βασιλέα φησὶ καὶ οὐ τύραννον): εἰς Ἔχετον βασιλῆα, βροτῶν δηλήμονα, “to king Echetus, the spoiler of mortals” (Od. 18.85).⁶⁶ Hippias might be right that the word felt alien to high-style verse usage in earlier centuries, as its earliest attestation in Greek is in Hom. hymn. Mart. 5 (unless the hymn is later than other early attestations). However, this passage is also significant because it reveals that already in the fifth century critics worked with a broad spectrum of texts and genres, with Homer discussed in the context of his generic and chronological interactions (note ὀψέ and κατὰ τοὺς ᾿Aρχιλόχου χρόνους).⁶⁷ In this way, it was not only Homeric words that were commented on and discussed.⁶⁸ The hypothesis to Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex (referring back perhaps to Alexandrian sources) provides further information on the question of the τύραννος; here it is said that τύραννος stems from the Tyrrhenians (προσαγορευθῆναι δέ φασι τὸν τύραννον ἀπὸ τῶν Τυρρηνῶν). The change of the quotation source from Ἱππίας ὁ σοφιστής φησιν to the undetermined φασι may indicate a change of source; thus, it might not have been Hippias who suggested the Tyrrhenian etymology. However, such etymological speculations as well as the changing of accents and syllables (here this would be τύραννος instead of Τυρρηνός, or even Doric Τυρρανός) are typical for Hippias’ time. A contemporary short Doric rhetorical exercise of unknown authorship, the Pairs of Arguments (Δισσοὶ λόγοι), mentions differences in the placing of accents and letters (DL DK90 B5, 11– 12):⁶⁹

 Hippias frs. D24-D27 Laks-Most.  Lanata 1963, 212– 213.  On the significant juxtaposition of Archilochus and Homer here and generally in early criticism, see pp. 87– 90 and p. 181. On Hippias’ exploration of this word in the political context and concerning its (relative) novelty, see Parker 1998, 145 – 149, and Węcowski 2021.  On Aristophanes’ Frogs where tragic vocabulary is examined, see above pp. 91– 92.  I agree with Untersteiner 1954, 176 – 177 that Hippias’ interests seem to be close to the words of the author of the Doric rhetorical exercise Dissoi Logoi. I would not go so far as to see direct dependence here as the evidence is not sufficient, and the fragments by Hippias are scanty. These discourses seem really to be in the air in Athens of the end of the fifth century BCE.

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ἐγὼ δὲ οὐ πράγματος τοσοῦτον ποτιτεθέντος ἀλλοιοῦσθαι δοκῶ τὰ πράγματα, ἀλλ’ ἁρμονίας διαλλαγείσας· ὥσπερ ‘Γλαῦκος’ καὶ ‘γλαυκός’ καὶ ‘Ξάνθος’ καὶ ‘ξανθός’ καὶ ‘Ξοῦθος’ καὶ ‘ξουθός’. ταῦτα μὲν τὴν ἁρμονίαν ἀλλάξαντα διήνεικαν, τὰ δὲ μακρῶς καὶ βραχυτέρως ῥηθέντα. ‘Τύρος’ καὶ ‘τυρός’, ‘σάκος’ καὶ ‘σακός’, ἅτερα δὲ γράμματα διαλλάξαντα· ‘κάρτος’ καὶ ‘κρατός’, ‘ὄνος’ καὶ ‘νόος’. I myself do not believe that things are altered when something like this is added, but rather when an accent is altered, such as Γλαύκος (name) and γλαυκός (green), or Ξάνθος (name) and ξάνθος (blonde), or Ξούθος (name) and ξουθός (nimble). These here differ due to the change of the accent, the following however differ due to being uttered with longer or shorter vowel-lengths: τύρος (Tyre) and τυρός (cheese), σάκος (shield) and σακός (enclosure), and yet the third group due to a change in the ordering of their letters: κάρτος (strength) and κρατός (head in Gen.), όνος (donkey) and νόος (mind).

The comparisons are given in the broader context of the sophistic discussion of relativity and various evaluative arguments pro et contra. However, the vocabulary used for these speculations is noteworthy mainly for the information it reveals around contemporary textual criticism, which made use of appropriate vocabulary for editing the written text: ’to alter the accent’ (ἁρμονίας διαλλαγείσας, τὴν ἁρμονίαν ἀλλάξαντα), ’longer and shorter vowels’ (τὰ δὲ μακρῶς καὶ βραχυτέρως ῥηθέντα), ’to replace letters’ (γράμματα διαλλάξαντα).⁷⁰ Two obscure fifth century BCE figures, (another) Hippias and Stesimbrotus, are both connected with the island of Thasus. Hippias of Thasus, otherwise completely unknown, was quoted by Aristotle as famous for his emendations of the Homeric text.⁷¹ He emended two verses in the Iliad (Il. 2.1 and Il. 23.328) using the criterion of accentuation described by Aristotle in his Poetics (Arist. Poet. 25.1461a 21– 22) and in the Sophistical Refutations (Arist. Soph. el. 4.166b1– 9). Following the rules of accentuation (κατὰ δὲ προσωιδίαν), Aristotle argues in brief in his Poetics, as in Hippias’ solution (ὥσπερ Ἱππίας ἔλυεν ὁ Θάσιος) it should be resolved “we grant him to achieve his prayer” (δίδομεν δέ οἱ εὖχος ἀρέσθαι, Il. 2.15) and “the part rotted by rain” (τὸ μὲν οὗ καταπύθεται ὄμβρωι, Il. 23.328). Furthermore, in his Sophistical Refutations, Aristotle refers to the same emendations in greater detail, this time without mentioning Hippias by name. Several points should be emphasised here. First, issues concerning prosody (παρὰ δὲ τὴν προσωιδίαν) are much easier to discuss in a written text (ἐν δὲ τοῖς γεγραμμένοις καὶ ποιήμασι), rather than based on the oral conversations (ἐν μὲν τοῖς ἄνευ γραφῆς διαλεκτικοῖς) (Arist. Soph. el. 4.166b1– 9):

 Pl. Crat. 416d-421d. See Maso 2018, 126 – 127, Becker and Scholz 2004; see also Schiappa 2005.  See Brancacci 2009.

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…οἷον καὶ τὸν Ὅμηρον ἔνιοι διορθοῦνται πρὸς τοὺς ἐλέγχοντας ὡς ἀτόπως εἰρηκότα ‘τὸ μὲν οὗ καταπύθεται ὄμβρωι’. λύουσι γὰρ αὐτὸ τῆι προσωιδίαι λέγοντες τὸ ΟΥ ὀξύτερον· καὶ τὸ περὶ τὸ ἐνύπνιον τοῦ ᾿Aγαμέμνονος, ὅτι οὐκ αὐτὸς ὁ Ζεὺς εἶπεν ‘δίδομεν δέ οἱ εὖχος ἀρέσθαι’, ἀλλὰ τῶι ἐνυπνίωι ἐνετέλλετο διδόναι. τὰ μὲν οὖν τοιαῦτα παρὰ τὴν προσῳδίαν ἐστίν. …thus some people emend Homer against those who criticise his expression τὸ μὲν οὗ καταπύθεται ὄμβρωι (Il. 23.328) as odd. For they solve the difficulty by a change of accent, pronouncing the ΟΥ on a higher pitch. Also, in the passage about Agamemnon’s dream, they say that Zeus did not himself say “we grant him to achieve his prayer” (Il. 2.15), but that he bade the dream grant it. Instances such as these, then, turn upon the accentuation.

In the passage Il. 23.328, the change of accent and breathing (οὗ is exchanged for οὐ) produces a preferable negative “which is not rotted by rain”. Hippias probably proposed the interpretation οὗ for ΟΥ: did Nestor speak about the wooden post as partially rotted by rain? The medieval commentators on Aristotle discuss the properties of pine, how immune or not immune pinewood is to rot. The solution to the problem, according to Aristotle, was due to pronunciation on a higher pitch (λέγοντες τὸ ΟΥ ὀξύτερον). Evaluating what exactly was pronounced on a higher pitch in Classical Greek remains hazardous. As Hippias’ reading was the οὗ against the common reading οὐ, it may have been οὗ that was pronounced on a higher pitch.⁷² In the other passage Ἥρη λισσομένη, δίδομεν δέ οἱ εὖχος ἀρέσθαι⁷³ (Il. 2.15, the second part δίδομεν δέ οἱ εὖχος ἀρέσθαι being identical to the second part in Il. 21.297) the first-person plural form “we grant” (δίδομεν) is converted, by a change of accent, into the (Aeolic) imperatival infinitive “grant!” (διδόμεν). The question that Hippias was attempting to solve was whether Zeus said within Agamemnon’s dream: “we grant him to achieve his prayer” or “grant him the fulfilment of his prayer!” The emendation διδόμεν instead of δίδομεν functions perhaps with the indirect aim of exculpating Zeus from the lie that would ensue from the phrase “we grant him (δίδομεν) to achieve his prayer”, which would be deceitful. According to this prosodic solution, Zeus would in fact be ordering Hypnos to lie.⁷⁴ It is not clear why Aristotle quotes line Il. 2.15 in a different way than the transmission of the Alexandrian scholars (the traditional transmission for

 See Probert 2006, 16 n. 4 with further bibliography.  Printed in the text by Martin West from the versions in Hippias and Aristotle and not from the traditionally transmitted text, which reads Il. 2.15 as Ἥρη λισσομένη, Τρώεσσι δὲ κήδε’ ἐφῆπται.  See Probert 2006, 17 n. 5 with further bibliography. On this example from Aristotle, see Dupont-Roc & Lallot 1980, 395.

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Il. 2.15 being Ἥρη λισσομένη, Τρώεσσι δὲ κήδε’ ἐφῆπται). Aristotle clearly must have known a different (earlier?) reading, which was also known to Hippias of Thasus. It remains open whether Aristotle had access to the existing reading of the verse with the second part Τρώεσσι δὲ κήδε’ ἐφῆπται (“and on the Trojans affliction is fixed”) and for some reason ignored it, whether the reading δίδομεν δέ οἱ εὖχος ἀρέσθαι was known in Alexandria and they deliberately preferred the Τρώεσσι δὲ κήδε’ ἐφῆπται reading, or whether in fact the Τρώεσσι δὲ κήδε’ ἐφῆπται constitutes a later Alexandrian emendation of the text. It is likely that the version quoted by Hippias and Aristotle is the old (fifth century BCE Athenian?) variant.⁷⁵ The main problem with Aristotle’s evidence is that although he belongs to the pre-Alexandrian period as well, and may formally be regarded as part of the Classical period, a crucial shift had taken place precisely between the fifth century BCE and the time of Aristotle. Both traditions, oral and written, existed simultaneously over a long period, however there was a gradual move to favour the written literary text. Such text passages on prosody as Aristotle analyses could be regarded as ambiguous during the fifth century BCE, when the transmission of the Homeric poems was essentially oral, although they also existed in writing.⁷⁶ Aristotle understood and commented upon this ambiguity, as will be discussed below, precisely because he perceived the Homeric work as a written text.⁷⁷ Here I bring in the other Thassian, Stesimbrotus, with regard to his study of Homer. He wrote about Homer and was referred to by name in the scholia, in particular the semi-verse Il. 15.189 τριχθὰ δὲ πάντα δέδασται, as having emended the Homeric text prosodically (Sch. vet. T 15.189a1).⁷⁸ The scholiast comments on this line with a question on logical discrepancy: how can the poet claim that everything has been divided into three parts, and then, below in the verse Il. 15.193, say “the earth is common for everybody and high Olympus” (γαῖα δ’ ἔτι ξυνὴ καὶ μακρὸς Ὄλυμπος)? Thus, the scholiast continues, Crates in the second book of his Homeric commentaries and Stesimbrotus both read πάντ’ ἂ οὕτως δέδασται (FGrHist 107, 24) “all things which have been divided in this way”. The opposition between v. 189 (’the whole universe has been divided in three parts’) and v. 193 (’the earth and Olympus remain in dualistic division

 Cassio 2002, 119 – 120.  See above pp. 21– 24. On the performance of epic and lyric poetry in the fifth century BCE, see pp. 88 – 90 above.  Probert 2006, 17 and Blanck 1992, 113 – 118.  On Aristotle’s treatment of prosody, see Arist. Soph. El. 177b-178a and p. 165 – 166 above. For the list of possible pre-Alexandrian emendations to the Homeric texts, see West 2001, 26 – 28. See also Bolling 1925, 31– 56. On rhapsodic emendations, see Jachmann 1949, 207– 208.

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for everybody’) was solved by Stesimbrotus and later by the grammarian Crates of Mallus prosodically by changing the word division. Stesimbrotus’ solution for πάντα had to be πάντ’ ἂ, the psilotic Homeric ἂ being noteworthy here.⁷⁹ It is also worth pointing out that Stesimbrotus’ alleged homeland, Thasus, had a psilotic local dialect.⁸⁰ It remains unclear how these prosodic solutions were explained in the fifth century BCE, in other words to what extent the vocabulary was developed and whether the prosodic terminology, as used for example in Plato’s Cratylus (394e-421c), existed as early as the fifth century BCE. In this text, Plato’s Socrates explains through spelling and pronunciation the differences between the expression Διὶ φίλος and the name Δίφιλος, employing a rich critical phonological vocabulary: ἐπεμβάλλομεν γράμματα (“put in letters”), τὰ δ’ ἐξαιροῦμεν (“put out letters”), τὰς ὀξύτητας μεταβάλλομεν (“change the accents”), τό τε ἕτερον αὐτόθεν ἰῶτα ἐξείλομεν καὶ ἀντὶ ὀξείας τῆς μέσης συλλαβῆς βαρεῖαν ἐφθεγξάμεθα (“omit the second iota and sound the middle syllable grave instead of acute”), ἄλλων δὲ τοὐναντίον ἐμβάλλομεν γράμματα (“insert sometimes letters in words instead of omitting”), τὰ δὲ βαρύτερα φθεγγόμεθα (“sound the acute in the place of the grave”), ἑνὸς γράμματος τοῦ ἄλφα ἐξαιρεθέντος καὶ βαρυτέρας τῆς τελευτῆς γενομένης, (“one letter, which is the a, has been omitted, and the acute on the last syllable has been changed to a grave”) (399a-b).⁸¹ We cannot know whether these terms belong to fifth century BCE discourses as well. Perhaps Hippias and Stesimbrotus explained their alterations to the Homeric text in a similar way, using technical terms that must surely have existed in the first half of the fourth century BCE, such as ὀξύτης (“acuteness”), ὀξύς (“acute”) and βαρύς (“grave”). Thus, Heraclitus might have already made use of these or similar terms in reference to music (οὐ γὰρ ἂν εἶναι ἁρμονίαν μὴ ὄντος ὀξέος καὶ βαρέος, “for there would be neither harmony, if there were not high-pitched/acute and low-pitched/grave” Heracl. DK22 A22 = D23 LaksMost = Arist. EE 7.1235a27). Aristotle paraphrases Heraclitus, and as a result we cannot be sure whether and how these terms were employed. However, the possibility cannot be excluded that they were used, and if these were Heraclitus’

 See Cassio 2002, 126: “Most of our aspirated forms must have been introduced by Attic rhapsodes in the place of East Ionic unaspirated ones, according to the principles laid down by Wackernagel”. However, West quotes the reading with aspiration in his apparatus: “πάντ’ ἃ Stesimbrotus Crates”.  Cassio 2002, 127 n. 93. See also Biondi 2015, 37– 39 and 90 – 91.  On the evidence for contemporary linguistic studies and the relevant vocabulary, see above pp. 36 – 52. On the notion ‘term’, see above p. 26.

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terms, they might have been found in contemporary prosodic discussions as well.⁸² Similarly, other prosodic terms including a number of marginal diacritical signs, such as παράσημον and παραγραφή, mentioned in Aristotle, might have been employed by scholars such as Hippias and Stesimbrotus (Arist. Soph. el. 20.177b): οὐ γάρ ἐστι διττὸν τὸ παρὰ τὴν διαίρεσιν· οὐ γὰρ ὁ αὐτὸς λόγος γίνεται, διαιρούμενος, εἴπερ μὴ καὶ τὸ “ὄρος”, καὶ “ὅρος” τῇ προσῳδίᾳ λεχθέν, σημαίνει ἕτερον. ἀλλ’ ἐν μὲν τοῖς γεγραμμένοις τὸ αὐτὸ ὄνομα, ὅταν ἐκ τῶν αὐτῶν στοιχείων γεγραμμένον ᾖ καὶ ὡσαύτως (κἀκεῖ δ’ ἤδη παράσημα ποιοῦνται), τὰ δὲ φθεγγόμενα οὐ ταὐτά. (“For it is not ambiguous, that which concerns the division of words. For the utterance becomes not the same being divided, unless in fact ὄρος and ὅρος spelt prosodically mean different things. However, in written texts the noun is the same, written with the same letters, and in the same way, even if already marginal signs are used, but the spoken words are not the same.”) The manner in which Aristotle mentions the marginal diacritical signs reveals that the practice of using diacritics was a recent innovation: κἀκεῖ δ’ ἤδη παράσημα ποιοῦνται “even if now/already marginal signs are used”.⁸³ Again, it is noteworthy that a big issue for Aristotle is the difference between the oral and the written text (ἀλλ’ ἐν μὲν τοῖς γεγραμμένοις). Phenomena such as aspirations, whilst distinguishable by hearing, were not always written as the system of diacritics was not fixed and apparently not employed by every scribe. This does not exclude the possibility that Hippias and Stesimbrotus might have explored and used such signs (if we believe that they emended the Homeric text prosodically), but the practice must not have been common even by the mid fourth century BCE.⁸⁴

 Cf. Xenophon’s use of tones of voice (on the hunter calling the name of each dog in turn, changing the tone of voice into high, low, soft, loud: τοὺς τόνους τῆς φωνῆς ποιούμενον, ὀξύ, βαρύ, μικρόν, μέγα (Xen. Cyn. 6.20)) Cf. above p. 128.  Cf. the similar use of παραγραφή (“marginal note”) in Arist. Rhet. 3, 1409a20: δήλην εἶναι τὴν τελευτὴν μὴ διὰ τὸν γραφέα, μηδὲ διὰ τὴν παραγραφήν, ἀλλὰ διὰ τὸν ῥυθμόν (“the end (of a speech) should be clear, not due to the scribe nor due to a marginal note, but due to the rhythm itself”). Cf. Isoc. Antid. 59: ἀρξάμενος ἀπὸ τῆς παραγραφῆς ἀνάγνωθι τὰ περὶ τῆς ἡγεμονίας αὐτοῖς (“let him begin the passage on the hegemony from the marginal note onwards and read it them aloud”).  On prosodic awareness of the differentiation in various dialects in the Classical age and on the treatment of prosodic errors on comic stage, see above pp. 135 – 142.

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7.5 Homeric criticism in the fourth century BCE The works of writers mentioned above such as Theagenes of Rhegium, Metrodorus of Lampsacus, Hippias of Elis, Hippias of Thasus, Stesimbrotus of Thasus and Democritus constituted the background for Old Comedy’s engagement with Homeric criticism. I will thus now bring together Strato’s fragment, quoted at the beginning of this chapter, with the studies of the fourth century BCE in context. Antisthenes, famous pupil of Gorgias and Socrates, might at one time also have been a textual critic.⁸⁵ Homeric scholia reveal that Antisthenes interpreted the Homeric text extensively, however these analyses passed through various stages of later reception, and it is hard to reconstruct his original method. He analysed Homer on a philosophic and ethically evaluative level, in accordance with his teaching on the ascetic life in accordance with virtue.⁸⁶ Such is the case with his analysis of Il. 11.637 Νέστωρ δ’ ὁ γέρων ἀμογητὶ ἄειρεν (“The old Nestor raised (the cup) without toil”). The question as to why Nestor is depicted as raising his cup without effort had attracted various commentators, who try to explain the reasons for the poet choosing to make this comment about the old Nestor. Antisthenes’ explanation is moralistic: the poet means that Nestor was not getting drunk (ὅτι οὐκ ἐμεθύσκετο σημαίνει, fr. 191 Giannantoni). The verse εἰ μὴ ᾿Aθήνη πᾶσι περιδδείσασα θεοῖσι (“if Athena had not seized with fear for all the gods”, Il. 15.123) on Athena’s disapproval of Ares was also explained with an ethical lens by Antisthenes, as wisdom is accompanied by the utmost virtue (κατὰ πᾶσαν ἀρετὴν), and Athena admonished Ares three times (τριχῶς νουθετεῖ τὸν Ἄρην) fr. 192 Giannantoni).⁸⁷ Antisthenes explained Homeric expressions such as the meaning of πολύτροπος in the Odyssey (Od. 1.1 and 10.330, fr. 187 Giannantoni = Schol. Od. 1.1 and

 See. frs. 185 – 197 Giannantoni for Antisthenes’ Homeric studies. See also Apfel 1938, 247; Brancacci 1990, 45 – 75; Pépin 1993; Billot 1993; Richardson 2006a, 80 – 85; Montiglio 2011, 20 – 37, and Prince 2015, 584– 677. See also Pontani 2011, 30 n. 29. On the influence of Antisthenes’ Homeric exegesis in Plato’s Laws, see Prauscello 2017.  On Antisthenes’ influence on the Cynic school, see the introduction above and Giannantoni 1993.  See similar cases of moralistic treatment in Antisthenes’ fragments: fr. 193 Giannantoni on Il. 23.65; fr. 188, 39 – 42 Giannantoni on Od. 7.258; fr. 188, 22– 38 Giannantoni on Od. 5.211; fr. 189, 7– 14 Giannantoni on Od. 9.106; fr. 190 Giannantoni on Od. 9.525.

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Il. 9.305).⁸⁸ In order to analyse the meaning of the word Antisthenes explored the broad semantic meanings of the lemma τρόπος (Antisthen. fr. 187, 12– 14 and 29 – 30 Giannantoni): μήποτε οὖν τρόπος τὸ μέν τι σημαίνει τὸ ἦθος, τὸ δέ τι σημαίνει τὴν τοῦ λόγου χρῆσιν; εὔτροπος γὰρ ἀνὴρ ὁ τὸ ἦθος ἔχων εἰς τὸ εὖ τετραμμένον, τρόποι δὲ λόγου αἱ ποιαὶ πλάσεις… τρόπος μὲν οὖν τὸ παλίμβολον τὸ τοῦ ἤθους, τὸ πολυμετάβολον καὶ ἄστατον… Does ’tropos’ then mean on the one hand the character, and on the other hand the use of the storytelling/language? For the man is ’eutropos’ who has this character and is turned to the good, and the ’tropoi’ of storytelling/language are various mouldings… ’Tropos’ is thus the reversibility of the character, changeability and unsteadiness…

It is noteworthy that the crucial verb in many of these fragments is σημαίνει (“signifies”), used in a grammatical sense for ‘meaning’ and perhaps (we cannot be sure whether this particular verb was originally employed) used by the aforementioned Metrodorus of Lampsacus in his explanation on ambiguity (δύο σημαίνειν) of the form πλέων in Il. 10.252. It reveals Antisthenes’ treatment of the Homeric text as a semantic question.⁸⁹ Plato in his Hippias Minor examined the meaning of πολύτροπος as well, perhaps responding to Antisthenes’ discussion.⁹⁰ Antisthenes also studied tragedy and provides some of the earliest evidence on the textual study of non-epic material. He was said to have believed that a verse, otherwise ascribed to Sophocles, was in fact Euripidean (Sch. R Αr. Thesm. 21 = Antisth. fr. 196 Giannantoni). The scholiast claims that Sophocles’ verse σοφοὶ τύραννοι τῶν σοφῶν συνουσίᾳ (“tyrants are wise through spending their time with wise people”, fr. 14 TrGF) is attributed to Euripides by Aristophanes in his comedy Hēroes (fr. 323 PCG). Plato and Antisthenes seem to agree that the verse is Euripidean (καὶ ᾿Aντισθένης καὶ Πλάτων Εὐριπίδου αὐτὸ εἶναι ἡγοῦνται).⁹¹ It remains open, however, whether Antisthenes declared that

 Prince 2015, 591– 622 with further bibliography; Giannantoni 1990, 331–346; Lapini 2015, 1024.  On the development of the verb σημαίνειν in Classical Greek and its grammatical usage, see Zanker 2016, 72– 79.  Prince 2015, 598.  Plato in fact quotes the verse as Euripidean in book 9 of his Republic. Further it is quoted as Euripidean in the Pseudo-Platonian fourth century BCE dialogue Theages. Pl. Rep. 9.568a8-b1: Οὐκ ἐτός, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, ἥ τε τραγῳδία ὅλως σοφὸν δοκεῖ εἶναι καὶ ὁ Εὐριπίδης διαφέρων ἐν αὐτῇ… Ὅτι καὶ τοῦτο πυκνῆς διανοίας ἐχόμενον ἐφθέγξατο, ὡς ἄρα σοφοὶ τύραννοί εἰσι τῶν σοφῶν συνουσίᾳ. [Pl.] Theag. 125b5-d6: Εὐριπίδης γάρ πού φησιν – σοφοὶ τύραννοι τῶν σοφῶν συνουσίᾳ· εἰ οὖν ἔροιτό τις τὸν Εὐριπίδην· “Ὦ Εὐριπίδη, τῶν τί σοφῶν συνουσίᾳ φῂς

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he believed the verse came from Euripides, or whether he was only quoting it as Euripidean following some other source (this is common to Plato as well). The verse might have occurred as a proverb in both Sophocles and Euripides (cf. Soph. OT 218 and Eur. Andr. 28; Soph. fr. 695 TrGF and Eur. Ba. 193).⁹² Tragic written texts were thus emended as well. Antisthenes’ attestation constitutes one more element in the construction of early critical scholarly discourse. In his discussion of pre-Hellenistic Homeric scholarship, Antisthenes’ contemporary Antimachus of Colophon, “a paradigmatic figure in this gradual shift of focus from Homer to the Homeric texts”,⁹³ must be considered. Antimachus was connected with the study of glosses, and his ’edition’ (ἡ ᾿Aντιμάχου or ἐν τῇ ᾿Aντιμαχείῳ) of the Homeric epics was mentioned in the Homeric scholia alongside Homer’s edition by Aristophanes of Byzantium and other city-editions.⁹⁴ The scholia quote Antimachus’ ’edition’ as the first and oldest personal one.⁹⁵ Other old personal ’editions’ include those of Euripides the Younger and Rhianus. To the extent that we can judge from surviving fragments, Antimachus emended the Homeric text and provided comments. The format in which he presented these emendations remains unclear. Antimachus also seems to have examined lexical and thus semantic issues, and the clarification of the differences between words.⁹⁶ Three verses from Antimachus’ poem Lyde and from Hipponax (fr. 49 IEG) are preserved on an ostracon from the third century BCE (Ostr. Berlin P. 12605); this ostracon (a schoolbook probably) also contains a series of glosses on words from Homer. The scribe analysed the second verse of the text of Antimachus and Od. 21.390. The reading ὅπλον in the Odyssey was misread by the commentator as σοῦσον and then as σοῦσα in Antimachus. Antimachus read οῦσον in Od. 21.390, and then used

σοφοὺς εἶναι τοὺς τυράννους;” On a detailed discussion of the semantic possibilities of σοφroots in the fifth century BCE, see Billings 2021, 159 – 222.  See Austin and Olson 2004, 58 – 59.  Graziosi 2002, 232– 233.  Frs. 167– 169 Matthews. West 2001, 52– 54 and 84 suggests that Antimachus’ edition of the Iliad quoted in the scholia as his personal one, means in fact that he possessed this edition. Antimachus might have worked on it, but he had not necessarily ’edited’ the text as διορθωτής. This (originally rhapsodic?) edition reached then the library of Alexandria. The truth is that the evidence is scant, and we simply do not know what kind of edition it was. See also Gostoli 2006, 123 – 125, and Pontani 2011, 33. See above pp. 162– 172.  On Antimachus’ Homeric textual studies, see Antimachus fr. 165 – 188 Matthews (twenty-four fragments). See Pöhlmann 1994, 21. On the obscure Homeric ’edition’ of Euripides, see Pfeiffer 1968, 72 n. 4.  Pfeiffer 1968, 94: “His extensive study of Homeric language is shown by the many glosses with which he adorned his own verses”.

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οῦσα in verse 2 and ὅπλα in verse 3. In the passage from his Lyde quoted, Antimachus explained both the differences between these words and his reasons for reading οῦσον in the Odyssey. ⁹⁷ Again, proto-philological activities are clearly attested in this way. Textual, critical, and lexical studies applied to the Homeric text had led to the attempt to establish a product – an ’edition’ – embodying the result of these studies even prior to Antimachus. To the extent that this was possible, Archaic ’editions’ were established and even reconstructed on the basis of the available Homeric text, taking into account obsolete writing conventions.⁹⁸ Apart from the ’Athenian recension’ ascribed to the ’commission’ of Peisistratus discussed above, the oldest known ’city-editions’ were the four Ionic ones (the Massaliotic, the Sinopic, the Chian and the Cyprian) and three Aeolic ones (the Argolic, the Cretan, and the Lesbian). We cannot gauge what period they should be dated to, nor to what extent these editions were connected to the Athenian Homeric text. It has been argued that the ’city-editions’ were the subject of considerable conjecture, with the aim of eliminating anything that might have seemed improper and elucidating the meaning.⁹⁹ The Antimachus-’edition’ is for obvious reasons hard to reconstruct. Twenty of his readings have been cited all together in later Homeric scholia and commentaries: eighteen for the books 1, 3, 5, 13, 17, 19, 21, 22, 23 and 24 of the Iliad and two for the books 1 and 22 of the Odyssey. ¹⁰⁰ To illustrate Antimachus’ approach to the Homeric text, a note by Didymus in Venetus A mentions Antimachus’ edition with regard to verse Il. 1.424, extracted from the quotation by Aristarchus in his own edition (fr. 168 Matthews = sch. Did. Il. 1.424b1). The other tradition read μετὰ δαῖτα (“for a feast”) and not κατὰ δαῖτα (“on the occasion of a feast”). It is not clear why Antimachus decided to read κατὰ δαῖτα. The obvious logic would be that κατὰ δαῖτα is found in Od. 2.322 and 22.199 as well, whilst μετὰ δαῖτα is not attested before Callimachus.

 Matthews 1996, 50. Cf. Od. 21.390 and Antim. Lyd. fr. 57; cf. frs. 3; 53 Wyss; on Antimachus’ Homeric studies see Pfeiffer 1968, 93 – 95; Wilson 1969, 369; Matthews 1996, 46 – 51, 373 – 403.  Cassio 2002, 109.  On the massive emendations in the ’city-editions’, see Van der Valk 1949, 14– 25 and contra Citti 1966. On the variants in ’city-editions’ such as Il. 13.363 Argolic, Il. 14.349 Chian, Il. 19.77 Chian and Massaliotic, Il. 21.126 Chian and such like, see Allen 1924, 283 – 296, who collected the variants of the ’city-editions’; see Cassio 2002, 117 n. 58. See also Apthorp 1980, 75 – 77 and Graziosi 2002, 232. The main sources for the condition of and versions of the Homeric text in the Classical and late Classical periods are direct quotations and comments in the rhetoricians, Plato, and Aristotle; the earliest papyri date to around 300 BCE. See Haslam 1997, 75 – 84 and Pagani & Perrone 2012.  Matthews 1996, 46 – 51, 373 – 403.

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Another reason might be that Antimachus wanted to avoid the repetition of μετὰ after μετ’ ἀμύμονας in the previous verse 423.¹⁰¹ On the verse Il. 1.598 in the third person singular imperfect form ᾠνοχόει (“he started to pour”) the same Didymus-scholion mentions the Antimachus’ edition (fr. 169 Matthews = sch. Did. Il. 1.598a). The vulgate version read the Attic form ᾠνοχόει, whilst Antimachus is quoted here as the first who decided to read the Ionic form οἰνοχόει, with οἰνοχόει also confirmed as the reading of Aristarchus.¹⁰² Furthermore, Antimachus seems to have made a prosodic choice Τρῳὰς in the verse Il. 5.461 (fr. 170 Matthews = sch. Nic. (?) Il. 5.461). He seems to have chosen the form Τρῳὰς with the iota instead of the common Homeric Τρῶας, and thus the adjectival form Τρώϊος (“Trojan”) with the iota, instead of the usual noun plural form Τρῶες without the iota for “Trojans”. This evidence is important as, if correct, and Antimachus did in fact choose the reading Τρῳὰς instead of the common Τρῶας, it then constitutes a further indication that, as in the case of the prosodic corrections of Hippias of Thasus, the distinction between accent signs clearly existed by the late fifth century BCE, albeit only in the written tradition. An evaluation of Antimachus as a Homeric critic is rendered difficult by the paucity of surviving examples of his reading and observations. In some instances, his reading may perhaps be preferable to the vulgate, such as κατὰ δαῖτα in fr. 168 Matthews, Τρῳὰς in fr. 170 Matthews, and correct Ionic forms μαχήσομαι in fr. 167 Matthews and οἰνοχόει in fr. 169 Matthews. In others, while the Antimachean readings deserve attention, it seems better to retain the ’common’ reading (fr. 171 Matthews κεκοπών Antimachus versus κεκόπων, fr. 174 Matthews πύλαι δ’ ἔμπληντο Antimachus versus πόλις δ’ ἔμπλητο, fr. 175 Matthews αἰκῶς Antimachus (pace Allen) versus ἀϊκῶς). Sometimes Antimachus departs radically from the traditional text, usually in an attempt to impart clarity or to remove ambiguity by means of unnecessary emendations (fr. 173 Matthews ὑπονόσφιον Antimachus versus πανόψιον; fr. 176 Matthews νόημα Antimachus versus νεοίη; fr. 177 Matthews ἐξείλετο τόξον / χερσίν ἀτὰρ δὴ (sic in Schol. A!) or ἐξείρυσε Τεύκρου / τόξον· χερσὶ δ’ (sic in Schol. T et Eusth.!) Antimachus versus ἐξείρυσε χειρὸς / τόξον· ἀτὰρ δὴ). One fragment testifies to an obvious misunderstanding of the Homeric text (fr. 178 Matthews ἀμήχανον Antimachus versus ἐάσομεν).¹⁰³

 Matthews 1996, 375 – 376.  The Ionic οἰνοχόει was read in the Argolic and Massaliote editions and also by Zenodotus and Aristophanes. See Matthews 1996, 376.  Matthews 1996, 374– 388 in detail.

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These are thus the names that are referenced by intellectuals in the later tradition on early textual criticism.¹⁰⁴ We find some further indications positing the existence of what may have been fifth century BCE Homeric criticism without the use of specific names, but in vague and general terms such as ἐνίοις τῶν σοφιστῶν, οἱ ἀρχαῖοι κριτικοὶ, τοῖς ἀρχαίοις Ὁμηρικοῖς. Thus, the verses Il. 20.269 – 272 seem to have been athetised by Aristarchus, but in fact might have been an older elimination (Schol. Did.(?) Il. 20, 269 – 272a). The four verses Il. 20.269 – 272 were omitted in some older variants of the text quoted by critics (Schol. Did. (?) Il. 20.269 – 272b: ἐν ἐνίοις δὲ οὐδὲ ἐφέροντο). Some older critics, however, must have discussed this omission or argued for their elimination (προηθετοῦντο παρ’ ἐνίοις τῶν σοφιστῶν). Unless the rejection was explained in words and not marked in the roll of the Homeric text, this constitutes very important evidence that a number of critical signs existed at this earliest stage of criticism.¹⁰⁵ A note by Aristonicus mentions such “old critics” (οἱ ἀρχαῖοι κριτικοί) as well, this time noting the traditional explanation of the rare usage of a certain expression.¹⁰⁶ Aristotle, in criticising the arguments of some grammarians and musicians, declares that they are employing arguments similar to those of the old Homeric scholars (ὅμοιοι δὴ καὶ οὗτοι τοῖς ἀρχαίοις Ὁμηρικοῖς) “who see small similarities but overlook big ones” (οἳ μικρὰς ὁμοιότητας ὁρῶσι μεγάλας δὲ παρορῶσιν, Arist. Metaph. 14.1093a 27– 28).¹⁰⁷ The methodology of textual criticism is censured here. Older critics did not provide a complex conceptual view of the Homeric text, according to Aristotle, but only criticised some small details.¹⁰⁸ It cannot be decided with certainty who exactly was meant, and even the period which  On other fifth century BCE intellectuals also connected to scholarly studies dealing not with textual criticism but with grammar and literary analysis, see above pp. 162– 172.  I tend to agree with Cassio 2002, 128 that it seems more probable that some signs were in use as early as the first athetesis is attested, but the possibility of simple narration as described by Socrates for the pronunciation of grave instead of acute in Plato’s Cratylus cannot be excluded (Pl. Crat. 399b). The fifth century BCE critics might have described their atheteses in words.  Sch. Ariston. Il. 5.83 (A). See also Novokhatko 2020b, 55 – 56.  On Aristotle’s engagement with Homeric criticism throughout his work generally and in his Homeric problems in particular, a work which offers a compilation of and a reflection upon the tradition of Homeric criticism up until his time, see Breitenberger 2006, 369 – 430, Bouchard 2016, 58 – 68, 78 – 83, 251– 316; Mayhew 2019. See Heath 2009, 255 – 263 for a comparative analysis of Heraclides’ and Aristotle’s observations on Homeric problems. See also Blum 1991, 21– 23. In the second half of the fourth century, Megaclides of Athens also wrote the treatise Περὶ ῾Ομήρου in at least two books, in which he addressed anomalies in the Homeric text. See Janko 2000: 138 – 143, Bouchard 2016: 59 – 60; 284– 9; 299 – 300.  See also Cassio 2002, 124: “Aristotle might be complaining of a type of scholar we would now call ’short-sighted’”.

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Aristotle is referring to in his reference to “the old Homerics”, but it is probable that fifth century BCE scholarly approaches were referenced when a multi-layered process towards textual criticism was being developed.¹⁰⁹ Old Homeric critics may have also explained marked epic expressions elsewhere. Thus, the scholiast A, referred to above, quotes the old critics as part of his explanation of the expression πορφύρεος θάνατος (Schol. Vet. A Il. 5.83); the old critics (οἱ ἀρχαῖοι κριτικοὶ) explained that the death is purple because the heavy-armed soldier fell face-foremost (τοῦ ἐπὶ στόμα πεπτωκότος ὁπλίτου). The syntagma πορφύρεος θάνατος, or to put it correctly, the whole verse Il. 5.83 ἔλλαβε πορφύρεος θάνατος καὶ μοῖρα κραταιή (“the purple death took (him who fell) and violent fate”) occurs four times in the Greek corpus as a whole, three times in the Iliad and once in the Little Iliad. ¹¹⁰ It would seem that the old critics (οἱ ἀρχαῖοι κριτικοὶ) here tried to explain the use of the adjective out of context, noting who (ὁπλίτου) and in which circumstances (τοῦ ἐπὶ στόμα πεπτωκότος) he fell.¹¹¹ Finally, Plato’s early dialogue Hippias Minor was influential on the tradition of Alexandrian and later Homeric criticism, as can be seen from the Homeric scholia.¹¹² Using agonistic vocabulary, Socrates discusses and evaluates with the sophist Hippias of Elis (mentioned above) the treatment of Achilles and Odysseus in the Homeric text (ἀτὰρ τί δὴ λέγεις ἡμῖν περὶ τοῦ ᾿Aχιλλέως τε καὶ τοῦ Ὀδυσσέως; πότερον ἀμείνω καὶ κατὰ τί φῂς εἶναι; (“But what can you say to us about Achilles and Odysseus? Which one is superior and for what reason do you think he is so?”, Pl. Hp. Mi. 364b). The Homeric text is in fact thoroughly analysed in the dialogue. The ethical goodness of characters is understood through literary criticism, which reflected contemporary critical discourses as discussed above (Pl. Hp. Mi. 365c-d). Pl. Hp. Mi. 364c4-e3: ΙΠ. φημὶ γὰρ Ὅμηρον πεποιηκέναι ἄριστον μὲν ἄνδρα ᾿Aχιλλέα τῶν εἰς Τροίαν ἀφικομένων, σοφώτατον δὲ Νέστορα, πολυτροπώτατον δὲ Ὀδυσσέα. … ΣΩ. ἐπειδὴ δὲ τὸν Ὀδυσσέα εἶπες ὅτι πεποιηκὼς εἴη ὁ ποιητὴς πολυτροπώτατον, τοῦτο δ’, ὥς γε πρὸς σὲ τἀληθῆ εἰρῆσθαι, παντάπασιν οὐκ οἶδ’ ὅτι λέγεις.

 Richardson 2006a [= 1975] 76 – 79.  Il. 5.83; 16, 334; 20, 477; Il. Parv. fr. 21, 5 Bernabé.  LSJ suggests similarly “onrushing death, of death in battle” whilst Hesychius explained the syntagma as ὁ μέλας καὶ βαθὺς καὶ ταραχώδης (“the black, deep/violent and disturbing death”, Hsch. 3084).  See Hunter 2016 in detail. See also Phillips 1987, Giuliano 1995 and Blondell 2002, 128 – 137 and 154– 162. See also Chan, Fletcher, & Marta 2015, 13 – 30, and Billings 2021, 99 – 100.

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Hipp. For I believe that Homer represented Achilles as the best man of those who came to Troy, Nestor as the wisest, and Odysseus as the most versatile… Socr. And then you said about Odysseus that the poet represented him as the most versatile, and in this, to tell you the truth, I do not understand what you mean at all.

Socrates seizes upon Hippias’ idea that the characters in the literary text are the product of poetic craft (Ὅμηρον πεποιηκέναι… Ὀδυσσέα and τὸν Ὀδυσσέα… πεποιηκὼς… ὁ ποιητὴς), recalling Aristophanes’ criticism of tragedy in the Frogs. The emphasised lemma is ποιητὴς/ποιεῖν. As has been convincingly argued by Ford, this lemma had meant the act not of creation but of fabrication since the fifth century BCE.¹¹³ This should be considered a fundamental aspect of the context for contemporary literary analysis.¹¹⁴ Plato’s Hippias quotes six (apart from v. 311 which is missing) verses from the Iliad book 9, the beginning of the speech of Achilles to Odysseus (Il. 9.308 – 314), and comments on them (Pl. Hp. Mi. 365b2– 5):¹¹⁵ ἐν τούτοις τοῖς ἔπεσιν τὸν τρόπον ἑκατέρου τοῦ ἀνδρός, ὡς ὁ μὲν ᾿Aχιλλεὺς εἴη ἀληθής τε καὶ ἁπλοῦς, ὁ δὲ Ὀδυσσεὺς πολύτροπός τε καὶ ψευδής·ποιεῖ γὰρ τὸν ᾿Aχιλλέα εἰς τὸν Ὀδυσσέα λέγοντα ταῦτα τὰ ἔπη. In these verses (the poet) reveals the character of each man, that Achilles is true and sincere, whilst Odysseus is versatile and false. For he makes Achilles say these words to Odysseus.

That the poet “reveals the character” (δηλοῖ τὸν τρόπον) is a criterion of critical evaluation for Hippias.¹¹⁶ This discussion of Odysseus as πολύτροπος expands on Antisthenes’ explanation of the meaning of πολύτροπος in the Odyssey, which in turn might have been a response to the actual Hippias’ Homeric criticism (Pl. Hp. Mi. 364e-365c).¹¹⁷ Plato presents Socrates as unsatisfied by the level of exegesis by the sophists: the literary critic should not think of poetry as the opinion of the author,  Ford 1981, 296 – 361. On the concept of poetry in the Archaic and Classical texts, see also above p. 32.  On the topic of the criticism of Homeric characters, see Kakridis 1974. See also pp. 184 and 209 – 215.  The passage from the Iliad, quoted by Plato, differs from the standard text. On a possible variant of Homeric transmission in the fourth century BCE here, see Labarbe 1949, 51– 52. See the summarised discussion on the issue with bibliography in Blondell 2002, 135 n. 124.  Pinjuh 2014, 103 – 104.  On Antisth. fr. 187 Giannantoni = Schol. Od. 1.1 and Il. 9.305, see above. See Venturelli 2015 and Hunter 2016, 92– 96. On the meaning of πολύτροπος in Plato’s dialogue, see Mulhern 1968; Corey 2013; Pinjuh 2014, 110 – 119.

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since the poet only imitates words and does not necessarily mean what he says. He draws a crucial distinction between performance and the proper understanding of what is performed.¹¹⁸ As the dialogue Cratylus reveals, the branches of linguistic, textual, and exegetical approaches were entwined in Plato’s time. In the Ion textual criticism and rhapsodic critical exegesis coexist and generate notions and ideas for literary reflection. The third ’Homeric’ text, Hippias Minor, is an example of a onequestion dialogue constructed around a Homeric passage, where textual critical and literary critical vocabulary are used to comment on the same textual processes. Some decades later, these branches would separate as disciplines became systematised by Aristotle and by Hellenistic institutions. Plato however coined notions and reflected upon them as they brewed together as though in the same big cauldron. Another figure from Plato’s Academy, Heraclides of Pontus, is linked to preHellenistic textual criticism. As ascertained by later sources, he also kept up relations with the Aristotelian school, which explains his erudite interests.¹¹⁹ His oeuvre encompassed investigations into music (frs. 109 – 115B Schütrumpf), poetics and the poets (fr. 1(88) Schütrumpf), various treatises on the Homeric text, such as On Homer (Περὶ Ὁμήρου, in two books), On the Age of Homer and Hesiod (Περὶ τῆς Ὁμήρου καὶ Ἡσιόδου ἡλικίας, in two books), On Archilochus and Homer (Περὶ ᾿Aρχιλόχου καὶ Ὁμήρου, in two books),¹²⁰ and on the three tragedians (fr. 1(88) Schütrumpf), and three books on material in Euripides and Sophocles (fr. 1(87) Schütrumpf), among others. In his Homeric Solutions (Λύσεις Ὁμηρικαί in two books), transmitted mainly through Porphyry’s Homeric Questions, Heraclides criticises Homer’s treatment of certain episodes and pointed out some ‘inconsistences’ in the Homeric text, proposing ‘solutions’ of his own.¹²¹ These solutions were not ground-breaking, and here they interest us mainly as direct evidence of his engagement with the Homeric text. The well-known Homeric contradiction on the number of cities on the island of Crete, ninety (Od. 19.172– 174) or one hundred (Il. 2.649), is a case

 See Ferrari 1989, 99 – 104. For more detail on literary criticism in Plato, see Weinstock 1927; Atkins 1934, 33 – 70; Grube 1965, 46 – 65; Else and Burian 1986, 3 – 64; Murray 1996; Halliwell 2000; Ford 2002, 209 – 226; Belfiore 2006; Büttner 2011; Halliwell 2011, 155 – 207 with further bibliography.  Podlecki 1969, 115 – 117; Wehrli 1983, 523 – 529; Dillon 2003, 204– 216; Mejer 2009; Montanari 2012, 353.  Frs. 96 – 106 Schütrumpf. See Heath 2009, 264– 271.  Frs. 99 – 104 Schütrumpf, see Heath 2009, 255 – 263. On the triviality of Heraclides’ judgments, see Gottschalk 1980, 136.

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in point. Heraclides solves this problem by positing a gap in time between the statements made in the Iliad and the Odyssey. “For those who went to Troy were from a hundred cities” (οἱ μὲν γὰρ εἰς Τροίαν ἐλθόντες ἐξ ἑκατὸν ἦσαν πόλεων), whilst by the time Odysseus returned back, ten cities on Crete had been sacked (πεπόρθηνται δέκα πόλεις ἐν Κρήτῃ). “So that when (Homer) does not say the same things about the same subject, he does not lie about them” (ὥστε εἰ μὴ τὰ αὐτὰ περὶ τῶν αὐτῶν λέγει, οὐ μέντοι διὰ τοῦτο καὶ ψεύδεται, fr. 99 Schütrumpf). Two further fragments from Heraclides (frs. 101– 102 Schütrumpf) are concerned with Telemachus’ rhetoric and his speech to the Ithacan assembly (Od. 2.40 – 79). They discuss the reasons why Telemachus reduced the suitors to the Ithacans alone, and criticise Telemachus’ aggression towards his audience at the very moment when he needs its help. Furthermore, the inconsistency in the description of the giants Orion, Otus and Ephialtes (Od. 11.309 and Od. 11.576 – 577) is questioned (fr. 103 Schütrumpf). The problem is said to have been solved by Heraclides (λύει δὲ Ἡρακλείδης) through three suggestions: that women are compared and contrasted within a group with complete kinship (the giants had different mothers: Orion was a son of Euryale whilst Otus and Ephialtes were sons of Iphimedeia); that they would have grown taller if they had lived longer; and that one might excel the other in height and not in beauty.¹²² “The point about the proper way to evaluate actions provides the basis for a solution, provided that a countervailing motive can be identified; and Heraclides has succeeded in identifying such a motive from evidence internal to the poem”.¹²³ It is hard to evaluate the critical vocabulary of Heraclides, as we cannot be sure which part of the text is his own writing, and where Porphyry’s paraphrase or report begins. However, some criteria such as the “unreasonable” (ἄλογον) and the “odd/absurd”, literally “out of place” (ἄτοπον), contribute to the spectrum of critical parameters and further expand on the narrative of analysis from both earlier and contemporary sources. Heraclides’ Homeric Solutions should be interpreted in the context of both the fifth and the fourth century BCE debates on Homeric criticism, in which Plato, Aristotle and other contributors participated; Heraclides’ work therefore constitutes a sui generis background for understanding the context of fourth century BCE textual interests.¹²⁴

 Heath 2009, 261.  Heath 2009, 262.  See Heath 2009, 254. On Heraclides as a Philodemus’ source, see Janko 2000, 134– 138.

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It is hard to speculate what exactly was discussed in other books by Heraclides on Homer. It seems probable that his focus was chronological issues and intertextual dependence.¹²⁵ Furthermore, according to the Pseudo-Plutarchan treatise On Music, Heraclides commented on textual issues such as questions of authorship (Heracl. fr. 109 Schütrumpf). He treated the singers in the Homeric epics as real poets and attributed epic work to them. He attributed a Nostoi to Phemius (Od. 1.325 – 327), and a Sack of Troy (Od. 8.499 – 520) and a Marriage of Aphrodite and Hephaestus (Od. 8.266 – 366 on Ares and Aphrodite) to Demodocus.¹²⁶ It is hard to distinguish whether these ideas were Heraclides’ own ones or whether he was transmitting common knowledge from his contemporary environment. We can consider his work however to have been one of the more important fourth century BCE discourses on Homeric transmission. Another famous ’textual’ critic was Heraclides’ contemporary Zoilus of Amphipolis, active in the fields of historiography and rhetoric. He composed an encomium to the savage man-eating giant Polyphemus, following the tradition in rhetoric of praising ’maligned’ epic characters (BNJ 71 fr. 2 = Schol. Plat. Hipp. 229d). His work Against Homer’s Poetry (Κατὰ τῆς Ὁμήρου ποιήσεως) in nine books earned him the much-quoted epithet Ὁμηρομάστιξ, the ’Scourge of Homer’, due to the quantity of errors he found in the Homeric text.¹²⁷ Zoilus’ work seems to have incorporated detailed scholarly examination of the text; he discovered and criticised grammatical and lexical errors and analysed the content. He faulted Homer’s gods for impiety, and his heroes for ridiculous and non-logical behaviour. The later traditions ascribed an especially aggressive criticism of Homer to Zoilus, but this does not follow from the surviving fragments (cf. Zoil. BNJ 71 test. 3 = Vitruv. Arch. 7, pr. 8 – 9; Zoil. BNJ 71 test. 8 = Gal. Meth. med. 1.3; Zoil. BNJ 71 test. 16 = Ovid. Rem. am. 361– 370; Zoil. BNJ 71 test. 17 = Tzetz. Exeg. Iliad. 3.6 – 16). Zoilus commented on Apollo’s fury in verse Il. 1.50, Οὐρῆας μὲν πρῶτον ἐπῴχετο καὶ κύνας ἀργούς, “here Apollo strikes the mules and dogs first”. Zoilus perhaps claimed that the destruction caused by Apollo’s anger was so doubtful/illjudged (οὕτως ἄκριτον ἦν παρανάλωμα τῆς ᾿Aπόλλωνος ὀργῆς) that he would strike brute animals (τὰ ἄλογα τῶν ζῴων), and his heart was so careless (ὁ θυμὸς ἀφρόνως) that he was willing to strike out at mules and dogs. The grammarian Heraclitus attacks Zoilus for this criticism. Heraclitus argues on the con Heath 2009, 294– 266.  Heraclid. fr. 109 Schütrumpf and Heath 2009, 266 – 269.  Eighteen fragments survive (BNJ 71 frs. 4– 19b), cf. Williams 2013. See also Friedländer 1895, 5 – 46; Apfel 1938, 250 – 252; Buffière 1956, 22– 25; Heath 2009, 253 – 254; Bishop 2015, 389 – 392; Mayhew 2019, 5 – 6; Fogagnolo 2021.

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trary that the Thracian slave (Θρᾳκικὸν ἀνδράποδον) Zoilus “the Amphipolitean” had criticised Homer (Ὁμήρου κατεξανίσταται) for his depiction of Apollo, and that he was in the habit of continually babbling such nonsense ἄνω καὶ κάτω τοιούτους τινὰς λήρους φληναφοῦντα (Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 5 = BNJ 71 fr. 5 = Heracl. Hom. Probl. 14).¹²⁸ Zoilus’ criticism is sober: Apollo first beat the mules and dogs and then the men being in fact angry with the men. Similarly, Zoilus found a contradiction in the passage about the heron that Athena sent to Odysseus and Diomedes during the expedition at night (Il. 10.274– 277). Zoilus comments on the verses 276 – 277, though they did not see it with the eyes (οὐκ εἶδον ὀφθαλμοῖσιν), they still heard its cry (ἀλλὰ κλάγξαντος ἄκουσαν), asking why Homer says that “Odysseus rejoiced at the bird/ omen” (Il. 10.277, πῶς γὰρ, φησὶ, “χαῖρε δὲ τῷ ὄρνιθι Ὀδυσσεύς”)? For it was plausible to expect that they would be surrounded by cries (εἰκὸς γὰρ ἦν ὑπολαβεῖν περιβοήτους ἔσεσθαι). If Odysseus and Diomedes sought to remain hidden, why would they have welcomed such a voice (φωνὴ γὰρ), which is the opposite of what they preferred (τοῖς λανθάνειν προαιρουμένοις ὑπεναντίον, Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 9 = BNJ 71 fr. 9 = Porph. Quaest. Hom. Il. 10.274– 277).¹²⁹ In this testimony by Porphyry the claim is made in an aside that Zoilus was from Isocrates’ school (τοῦ δὲ Ἰσοκρατικοῦ διδασκαλείου) and wrote his treatise Against Homer (τὰ καθ’ Ὁμήρου) “for practice” (γυμνασίας ἕνεκα). It was common for rhetoricians to train in this way with regard to the poets (εἰωθότων καὶ τῶν ῥητόρων ἐν τοῖς ποιηταῖς γυμνάζεσθαι). In this rhetorical vein, the focus of Zoilus’ criticism in all three fragments is the ’non-logical’ reaction of characters that contradicts the flow of the plot (εἰκὸς γὰρ ἦν). However, his interest in the affectation of Homer’s characters, such as Achilles’ grief (τό τε οὕτως ὑπερπενθεῖν), Apollo’s anger (τῆς ᾿Aπόλλωνος ὀργῆς) and Odysseus’ joy (πῶς γὰρ, φησὶ, χαῖρε) is emblematic of fourth century BCE criticism, and should be considered within the context of Aristotle’s Poetics. ¹³⁰ It is noteworthy then that Zoilus’ criticism of Iliad book 10 (Doloneia) indicates that this book was considered Homeric at least as early as the first half of the fourth century BCE. Five fragments point further to Zoilus’ (unsuccessful) engagement with the Homeric text, and later corrections of it. He emended, or wanted to emend, the verse Il. 1.129 δῷσι πόλιν Τροΐην: (’(If Zeus ever) grants us (to sack) the city of Troy’). According to the scholion, Zoilus criticised the use of the epic subjunctive aorist third person singular δῷσι (standard δῷ), referring to Zeus, as he

 Verhasselt 2020, 240 – 241; Fogagnolo 2022, 80 – 90. Cf. Arist. Poet. 25.1461a9 – 12.  Fogagnolo 2022, 129 – 139.  See the discussion in p. 189 below.

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read it as a plural δῶσι. For they (i. e. Zoilus and Chrysippus the Stoic) say δῷσι is plural (τὸ γὰρ δῷσι φασὶ πληθυντικόν), but they are ignorant (ἀγνοοῦσι δέ), according to the scholiast, for the form δῷ has a prolonged singular (ἔστι γὰρ τὸ δῷ ἑνικὸν ἐκτεταμένον), such as λέγῃσι for λέγῃ, and φέρῃσι for φέρῃ (Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 6 = BNJ 71 fr. 6 = Schol. A Il. 1.129).¹³¹ Zoilus apparently criticised Homer for the incorrect use of the word ζωρότερον, the Homeric adjective ζωρός meaning ’pure’ for wine not mixed with water (Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 4 = BNJ 71 fr. 4 = Plut. Queast. Conv. 677c-f).¹³² Plutarch argues that this is in fact a correct use, and Zoilus allegedly misunderstood Homer (cf. ὑπελάμβανεν, ἀγνοῶν). Zoilus further “misunderstood” the Homeric adjective ἐνηής meaning ’kind, gentle’ and read instead ἑταῖρον ἐνηέα (“kind companion”) as “the companion by name Enēes” in the verse Od. 8.200 χαίρων οὕνεχ’ ἑταῖρον ἐνηέα λεῦσσ’ ἐν ἀγῶνι (‘rejoicing because he saw his kind companion in the competition’, (Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 10 = BNJ 71 fr. 10 = Schol. A Il. 17.204).¹³³ In all probability, Zoilus was well aware of the meaning of Homeric ἑταῖρον ἐνηέα. Such ’corrections’ could be interpreted as Zoilus’ attempt to either avoid or else modernise obsolete words in Homer. On one occasion, Zoilus inserted a conjecture into a Homeric verse: εὐρύ τε καὶ μάλα καλόν: Ζωΐλος γράφει “εὐρύ τε καὶ μάλα μακρόν” (‘a broad and very beautiful καλόν) (wall)] Zoilus writes ‘broad and very tall (μακρόν)’, (Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 13 = BNJ 71 fr. 13 = Schol. ex. (Ge) Il. 21.447).¹³⁴ Poseidon built the wall for the Trojans so that the city would remain “not to be broken” (ἵν’ ἄρρηκτος πόλις εἴη, Il. 21.447). Zoilus’ correction of μακρόν for καλόν is either Zoilus’ own and based on logical considerations (a tall wall being more useful than a beautiful one in war) or reflects a version of the Homeric text from the fourth century BCE. Back to the comedy. Especially in the light of these Homeric discussions, a fragment from the above-mentioned comedy of Philemon is significant.¹³⁵ A speaker gives advice to his addressee, perhaps in a broader context of rhetorical debates, as to which speech should be considered too long and drawn out and which should not, pointing to Homeric texts as examples.

    

Fogagnolo 2022, 91– 99. Verhasselt 2020, 241– 242; Fogagnolo 2022, 118 – 128. Cf. Arist. Poet. 25.1461a. Fogagnolo 2022, 142– 146. Fogagnolo 2022, 159 – 163. See above pp. 23 and 159.

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Philemon fr. 99, 5 – 7 PCG τεκμήριον δὲ τοῦδε τὸν Ὅμηρον λάβε· οὗτος γὰρ ἡμῖν μυριάδας ἐπῶν γράφει, ἀλλ’ οὐδὲ εἷς Ὅμηρον εἴρηκεν μακρόν Take Homer as a proof of this: for he writes us thousands of verses, but nobody has ever called Homer tedious

Here, not only is the case of Homer taken as an attest (τεκμήριον) to illustrate a stylistic point, but, more importantly, the literary quality of the Homeric text is discussed and evaluated. The Homeric narrative is unanimously rated as exciting, as no one (οὐδὲ εἷς) could describe it as boring. The pattern of Homer serving as evidence for an argument is otherwise familiar in classical literature. Thucydides uses Homeric authority to prove historical facts (τοσαῦτα μὲν Ὅμηρος ἐτεκμηρίωσεν), e. g., that there was a great assembly and feast on Delos in ancient times (ὅτι ἦν καὶ τὸ πάλαι μεγάλη ξύνοδος καὶ ἑορτὴ ἐν τῇ Δήλῳ, Thuc. 3, 104, 6). The written Homeric text as a testimony to stylistic and literary criticism is part of the interaction process between comedy and the current scholarly discourse in Athens.¹³⁶ How did comedy react to the development of early Homeric criticism? I suggest that comedy was involved in the reception and contributed to the popularisation of ’proto-philological’ studies. Rare, obsolete Homeric words, brought onstage by Strato’s ’cook’ or by Aristophanes’ ’father’, as well as Homeric repetitive formulas ridiculed by Cratinus, circulated as we can see in contemporary scholarly circles. Onstage, they received responses among the manifold and multi-layered Athenian audience. This performative materiality was essential to understanding the staged discussions of Homeric language, the novel meanings of these discussions, and the reaction and perception of the comedy audience as generated and mediated by the performance. As has been argued elsewhere, drama enacts learning “through and from our bodies”, establishing the contact between living bodies on stage and living bodies of the spectators.¹³⁷ Material requisites and the theatrical environment enabled, enacted, embodied, and extended mimesis and helped change the way in

 Cf. comic poets quoting Homer who “made clever remarks” Ar. Pax 1096 (ὁ σοφός τοι νὴ Δί’ Ὅμηρος δεξιὸν εἶπεν) and Ar. Av. 575 (Ὅμηρος ἔφασκ’).  Rokotnitz 2011, 3. See also Meineck 2019, 89.

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which people experienced Homeric criticism. Homeric glosses and formulas experienced by the audience in a spatial theatrical context, were thus understood in a further dimension, transferred from dusty rolls to the vivid and sensory reality of Athenian audiences.

Chapter 8 The importance of being serious This book explores the interaction of comedy with scholarship. The interaction is not necessarily obvious and, I assume, represents a special case of Attic comedy, when both comedy and literary and linguistic studies were a vibrant part of the city’s social and political life. Scholarship provided the material for comedy and comedy provided the material for scholarship. Out of this spirit, some concepts, notions, and categories emerged. Comic playwrights evaluated comedy and their own competitors on stage. Scholars also evaluated comic playwrights and their work. Did these processes influence each other? If so, it is time to ask to what extent both the comedians and the scholars were aware of this interaction. In other words, whether, in what ways and when did the comedians and the scholars reflect on what is “amusing/ridiculous” and what is “scholarly”? The first section of this chapter deals with the ’seriousness’ of comedy and its awareness of the use of amusing devices while dealing with weighty issues. It is particularly important in the context of the main argument of the chapter: the realm of the ’amusing/ridiculous’ (γελοῖον) has become a contribution of comedy to later scholarship. The central part of the chapter considers theoretical discourse as found in various genres, which constituted the background for contemporary performative events. In the last part I will suggest that comedy contributed particularly to the establishment of the γελοῖον as an aesthetic category and as a stylistic effect in literary and textual criticism, which would become common in later Hellenistic literary and rhetorical theories. Experiencing a range of emotional and sensory details, the audiences of Greek comic playwrights were induced to laughter, whilst also watching the evaluation of laughter onstage. The level, gradation and quality of laughter became an evaluational tool. The critical categories of ’absurd’/’out of place’/’odd’/’laughable’ were thus accorded prominence. Exploring the interaction of laughter and criticism becomes particularly important to understanding the development of scholarly discourses in the late Classical thought of the fourth century BCE.

8.1 ‘The comic’ and ‘the serious’ Much research has been done in the last hundred years on the subject of how serious Attic comedy actually is. Above all, the political and social themes as well as the ritual and religious questions, the sophistic and philosophical discourses, contemporary poetry, music, art have occupied the comic playwrights intensively. In this respect, it is correct to ask the question of what “serious” https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-011

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means and how ‘serious’ comedy may and is able to be at all within its own genre framework.¹ ‘Seriousness’ in comedy “does have something to do with evaluation; but it is a variable, in terms both of its nature and its degree,” noted Michael Silk.² Comic playwrights ponder the ‘seriousness’ as well as they often ponder the functions of laughter and the functions of comedy.³ The rights and duties of comedy, the didactic instructions, the political satire, the great τέχνη of comedy itself, which aims to reject traditional comic mockery and farce, are explicitly articulated on stage by the characters and the chorus, often in the parabasis, but also in every other part of the comedy. A task of the comic poets was to express and expose the hot contemporary social trends as well as the hot public discourses.⁴ Furthermore, the explicit interest in and preoccupation with tragedy, evident par excellence in Aristophanes’ surviving comedies but also in many contemporary comic fragments, has been rightly associated by scholars with an actual engagement of comic playwrights with the possibilities of comedy.⁵ Euripides’ avant-garde approach and commitment to redefining the boundaries of his own genre made him a target for comic poets who explored the limits of comedy. In their treatment mainly of tragedy, but also of epic and lyric, the comic dramatists sought out and worked on their own genre. It is already the ancient dichotomy that tragedy is emotional and appeals to emotional reactions such as pity and fear, the arousal of which brings about catharsis (Arist. Poet. 6), while comedy is intellectual and appeals to our intellect by evoking laughter (Donatus De Comoedia CGF p. 67 Kaibel).⁶ Given that the audiences of comedy and tragedy were not significantly different, it is significant to remember that tragedy appealed to affect, emotional competence and percep-

 Cf. an account of the geloion in Pl. Phileb. 48a-50a on the mixture of pleasure and pain as our response to comedy. See McCabe 2019. On the problem of ‘seriousness’ of comedy, see Henderson 1990, Silk 2000, 42– 97 and 301– 349; Lowe 2007, 58 – 60; Ruffell 2011, 54– 111; Jendza 2020a, 25 – 35. See also Reckford 1987, 367– 387. On the dialectic of humour and seriousness, see Billig 2005, 175 – 199.  Silk 2000, 311– 312.  The bibliography of the so-called ’self-referentiality’ and ’self-consciousness’ of comedy is extensive and the statement is now communis opinio. I refer here to Bremer 1991, Sommerstein 1992, Silk 2000, Rosen 2000, and Biles 2011 with bibliography.  Cf. Henderson 1990, 313: “It was for the comic poets to reveal them, to give them the powerful and memorable airing that only the comic context allowed”.  See Silk 2000, 50. On the engagement of Aristophanes with tragedy, see Rau 1967, Silk 1993, Dobrov 2001, Jay-Robert 2009, 114– 132, Telò 2010, Ruffell 2011, 314– 360. On tragic parody in other comic playwrights, see Zanetto 2006, Bakola 2010, Wright 2012, Farmer 2017.  See the discussion in Silk 2000, 57.

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tion, while comedy required (among other things) a learned audience for its sophisticated gags, quotations, generic references to contemporary discourses so that the ability to recognise the point of reference could be most clearly demonstrated.⁷ As Martin Revermann observed, “this genre, given its persistent metatheatrical bias and cross-generic outreach, throws the phenomena at stake into sharpest relief”.⁸ Interest in the controversial nature of laughter, as well as in the physical and ritual components of laughter, was approached differently by Sigmund Freud and Mikhail Bakhtin in the twentieth century. Freud claimed that in all laughing situations we store a certain amount of psysical energy that is normally used for a psychic purpose. Freud distinguished three laughing situations: In joking (der Witz), this energy is used to suppress aggressive and sexual feelings; in comic (die Komik), it is saved for a cognitive processing; in humour (der Humor), the energy is that of an emotion that we believe is no longer needed.⁹ Bakhtin examined carnival as a social institution, and the carnivalesque parts of medieval comedy, which involved particular forms of free and familiar interaction between people, when people do not see a spectacle but live in it, with laughter having a unifying and universal function.¹⁰ It is from this interest in the nature of laughter and its evaluative criteria brought to the stage that the category of the γελοῖον in comedy has emerged. The category moved further from comedy into the realm of textual and literary criticism – as will be suggested – which marks a significant contribution of comedy to later scholarship. The dual nature of comedy, involving the comic and the serious, is crucial to this shift. “Old comedy plays dangerously on the border of two worlds, the older world of folklore and rural festival and what might be called the Middle Ages of ancient Greece, and the newer world of the fifth-century Athenian Renaissance, with its encyclopedic learning, its wandering sophists (they might be called umanistai), and its new historical and artistic selfconsciousness”, wrote Kenneth Reckford.¹¹ In the following, I will trace the early tendencies of critical thinking in order to provide a background for the interaction and clash of comic evaluative tools with contemporary scholarly discourses.

 On the subject of the learned audience: on the modes of thought practiced in comedy and the literary history that comedy represents on stage, see Spelman 2021.  Revermann 2006, 105.  Freud 1905. See Morreall 1986, 111– 116, Billig 2005, 139 – 172.  Bakhtin 1968. For an overview of theoretical approaches to humour from Antiquity to the twentieth century, see Morreall 1986 and Silk 2000, 73 – 95.  Reckford 1987, 386.

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8.2 Early critical notions The complex role of the written text continued to grow alongside the tradition of oral performance and the oral perception of literature. This influenced textual criticism in significant ways and can be seen, for example, in the development of certain key words for discussing texts: ζήτημα (“question”), πρόβλημα (“problem”), ἀπόρημα (“puzzle”) or λύσις (“solution”). Early Greek poets contributed massively to the development of this range of words. We can see epistemological authentication already developing in this early stage of written literature in this poetic and performative context. It signals both an important shift taking place in society at large, and the terminological and conceptual background for Classical and Hellenistic scholarly thought.¹² Archilochus questioned nature, human possibilities, and the limits of knowledge (οἶδα or ἐπίσταμαι) by distinguishing between various kinds of it (frs. 120, 126, 201 IEG).¹³ Theognis analysed epistemological notions with the vocabulary of knowledge (οὐ δύναμαι γνῶναι, v. 367 IEG) and examination (ἐξετάζειν, v. 1016 IEG).¹⁴ The density of vocabulary of knowledge and perception (εἰδείη, σοφίης, ἐπιστάμενος, μῶσθαι, δεικνύεν) is striking in Theognis’ manifesto on the poet’s duties (vv. 769 – 772 IEG).¹⁵ Xenophanes meanwhile focused on the process of cognition and acquiring knowledge, thus on ‘searching’ and ‘finding out’; the pair ζητεῖν ‘to search’ and ἐφευρίσκειν ‘to find out’ are important prin-

 On investigation and research becoming key concepts, even a fashion, in late Archaic times, see Sassi 2018, 57– 63; Moore 2020, 127– 156.  Cf. the similar use of the participle ἐπιστάμενος by the statesman and poet Solon referring to a poet “who has skill (ἐπιστάμενος) in the measure of desirable wisdom” (fr. 13, 52 IEG). On Archilochus’ iambus and elegy, see Swift 2019, 8 – 17. See also Dover 1987 and Bowie 2001b, 12– 24. On the well-known epistemological aphorism Archil. fr. 201 IEG written in iambic trimeter and ascribed to Archilochus (as well as to Homer) which was the starting point for Isaiah Berlin’s 1953 essay on the fox and the hedgehog, see the discussion in Swift 2019, 385 – 387 (p. 386: “The hedgehog is the more likely analogue for the poet”). See also Bowra 1940 and Bettarini 2009. On the craft (μῆτις) of a fox, see also Detienne et Vernant 1978, 41– 46, on Archilochus’ fragment esp. p. 43 n. 64. See also Cannatà Fera 1988, 59 – 60. Cf. Anacreon who in the first person singular claimed “to sing graceful songs and to know (οἶδα) how to speak graceful verses” (fr. 57 PMG). Campbell 1983, 255 and Bossi 1990, 178 with bibliography; Calame 2019, 56 – 57.  See the scholarly usage of this verb referring to the correctness of words and phrases in Plato’s Theaetetus 184c: δι’ ἀκριβείας ἐξεταζόμενον “precisely scrutinised”. See further the meaning of the verb as “to test, examine” already fixed in the first – ninth centuries CE Greek (Lampe 1961 s.v.).  See a thorough analysis of these verses in Woodbury 1951 and Bagordo 2000. Cf. Woodbury 1991, 485 n. 8: “δείκνυμι can then signify the declaration and publication of what is sought and found”. See also Van Groningen 1966, 297– 299; Ford 1985, 92– 93; Tor 2017, 127– 128.

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ciples of knowledge and cognition that would soon come to belong to the working narrative of science and scholarship (DK21 B18 = D53 Laks-Most).¹⁶ The Attic verb ζητεῖν ’to search’, or rather its Ionic (Homeric) equivalent δίζησθαι, is used in a critical sense in Heraclitus’ fragment ἐδιζησάμην ἐμεωυτόν (DK22 B101 = D36 Laks-Most), linked to the Delphic maxim ’know yourself’ (cf. Heraclitus’ γινώσκειν ἑωυτοὺς DK22 B116 = D30 Laks-Most).¹⁷ Parmenides posed questions on being and becoming and the human knowledge of these terms. The same verb δίζησθαι, used for the act of philosophical inquiry, the noun δίζησις (“inquiry/investigation”), and the hapax adjective παναπευθής (“utterly inscrutable”), derived from the verb πυνθάνομαι, reveal various directions of (re)search (DK28 B2 = D6 Laks-Most, DK28 B6 = D7 Laks-Most).¹⁸ Interestingly enough if one recalls the later vocabulary of textual scholarship and the κρίσις as a crucial constituent of it, Parmenides criticises the lack of human capacity to judge (κρίνειν), using the passive Homeric adjective ἄκριτος meaning “undistinguishable, confused” to describe people as “being non-critical” (DK28 B6, 7 = D7, 7 Laks-Most). His ἄκριτος recalls the critical δύσκριτος in Plato, when Socrates in Plato’s dialogue Hippias Minor designates δύσκριτον (“difficult to solve”) the question in Homeric epic as to whether Achilles or Odysseus was represented as superior by Homer (Pl. Hp. Mi. 370d7-e).¹⁹ In discussing the concept of inquiry, Heraclitus employed the Ionian lemma ἵστωρ, meaning generally “the one who knows” and “the one who learned acquisitive inquiry” (DK22 B35 = D40 Laks-Most), whilst Herodotus employed the word ἱστορία for “written account of inquiries” (Hdt. 7.96).²⁰ Stesichorus wrote  On the use of the verb δείκνυμι without a prefix on divine disclosure, and on the unique use of ὑποδείκνυμι on the divine action here in Xenophanes, see Tor 2017, 117– 118. On the prefix ὑπο- and its connotations (such as indirect and cryptic manner), see Lesher 1991, 237 n. 19 and Lesher 1992, 149 and 153. On the use of both words in early authors, see Lesher 1991, 242– 243 and Lesher 1992, 154– 155. See the detailed discussion of Xenophanes’ fragment DK21 B18 in Lesher 1991; Lesher 1992, 149 – 155; and Lesher 2013, 86 – 87. See also Heitsch 1994, 19 – 20 and Tor 2017, 127– 128.  Cf. Laks and Most 2016b, 152– 159 on Heraclitus’ fragments D29-D45. On the verb δίζησθαι employed in the earliest texts for the act of consulting Apollo in the Delphic oracles, see Tor 2017, 266 n. 113.  On δίζησθαι as a terminus technicus in Delphic oracular responses and Parmenides’ echoing of Pythia’s terminology, see Tor 2017, 265 – 266. See also Curd 2015 and Tor 2017, 155 – 308.  On the semantic field of κρίνειν and κριτικός and their use in Archaic (political pre-eminence) and Classical (democratic model) social and literary context of contest, see Ford 2002, 272– 293.  See Curd 2015, 2– 3. Il. 18.501, 23.886; Hes. Op. 792; Hymn. Hom. 32.2; Hdt. 2.99, 118, 119; 7.96. Cf. Eur. fr. 910 TrGF as well on somebody who is happy/wealthy as a result of learning (μάθησις) from inquiry (ἱστορία). Cf. also Democritus’ fragment DK68 B299, 6 – 8 = R115 Laks-Most, where

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about the “discovery”-process and the earliest development of the concepts of (self)-recognition, analysis, learning and perception (fr. 212 PMGF = fr. 173 Davies-Finglass).²¹ For both Alcman (fr. 39 PMGF) and Stesichorus, the act of exploring and identifying refers to specific poetic and performative formats, to “these words and melody” (ϝέπη τάδε καὶ μέλος) for Alcman and to “Phrygian melody” (Φρύγιον μέλος) for Stesichorus. Thus, both sides, the author and the recipient, are involved in the auditory experience of exploration.²² Pindar, Bacchylides and Aeschylus contributed greatly to the establishment of criticism of the literary text and the discourse on this criticism, and to the vocabulary and structural models of hermeneutic criticism.²³ Surviving texts show us an awareness of the variety of authorial and generic patterns, with the same formula (the verb “to discover” plus a noun denoting intellectual/creative achievement) employed.²⁴ Herodotus combined “inquiry” (δίζηται) with “preciseness” (ἀτρεκέστερον). Bringing the concept of searching closer to a scientific search was important for

the verb ἱστορεῖν occurs: “I of all men of my contemporary people have travelled farthest, getting to know/searching the most (ἱστορέων τὰ μήκιστα), and I have seen most skies and lands and have listened to most wise people, and no one has ever surpassed me in putting together lines in connection with demonstration…” See Montiglio 2000, 88 – 90. On the notions ἵστωρ and ἱστορία in Greek epistemological thought, see Fowler 2001 and Darbo-Peschanski 2007.  Willi 2008, 80 – 81; Carey 2015, 52– 53.  In this Alcman is following a standard pattern of Archaic poetry, with poetry imitating birdsong. See Calame 1983, 480 – 483. Cf. Alcman fr. 40 PMGF “I know (οἶδα) the melodies of all birds”. On Simonides and mimesis as a constructive element in the building of Classical literary theory, see Ford 2002, 93 – 112.  Pind. Ol. 1.110; Pyth. 1.60; Pyth. 4.258 – 262; Pyth. 4.299; Nem. 6.53 – 54; Bacch. Paean. fr. 5 Snell-Maehler; Aech. Eum. 989; fr. 181a TrGF; [Aesch.] PV 436 – 506. On Pindar’s poetics in the historical and cultural context of Archaic Greek poetics as well as on the creation of literary structures in Pindar’s work, see Maslov 2015 with further bibliography. See also Goldhill 1991, 69 – 166; Pfeijffer 1994. On the intertextual connection of Cyreneans’ “finding out the craft” in Pyth. 4.261 and Pindar’s own “finding out a fountain of immortal verses” below in Pyth. 4.299, in the metapoetic context, see Segal 1986, 160 – 161. Jouanna 1990, 39 n. 3. On the striking frequency of the epistemological vocabulary “to search” and “to invent” in Hippocratic treatise “On ancient medicine” (late fifth century to early fourth century BCE), see Jouanna 1990, 38 – 40. Cf. Kleingünther 1933, 66 – 90. On Aeschylus see Sommerstein 2000, 121– 122.  On Classical Greek texts that include Thoth, Palamedes, and Prometheus as central figures for the cultural catalogues of invention and achievement with emphasis on the verb εὑρίσκω, see Billings 2021, 36 – 64. See especially Soph. fr. 432 TrGF, Eur. fr. 578 TrGF, Crit. fr. 2 IEG, Gorg. Palam. DK82 B11a, 30 = D25 Laks-Most, Pl. Phdr. 274c5 – 275b2.

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Herodotus’ claim to be a historiographer, with the lemma ἀτρεκής (“exactness, strictness”) also crucial to later philological studies.²⁵ Needless to say, exactness in the process of analysing facts is important to Thucydides also (χαλεπὸν τὴν ἀκρίβειαν αὐτὴν τῶν λεχθέντων διαμνημονεῦσαι ἦν ἐμοί and ὅσον δυνατὸν ἀκριβείᾳ περὶ ἑκάστου ἐπεξελθών), since the oppositions of words (ὅσα μὲν λόγῳ εἶπον) and deeds (τὰ δ’ ἔργα) was the main task of the historiographer (Thuc. 1.22.1). Even more intensive and deliberate is the usage of “exactness” (ἀκρίβεια) referring to the historical account in Thucydides (6.54.1), who wanted to establish higher standards for writing and scholarly methods and is critical of his predecessors.²⁶ We also see ἀκρίβεια as a stylistic notion in use in the fourth century BCE. In the passage from Plato’s Phaedrus 234e, discussed above, Lysias’ style is described.²⁷ Each word in his speeches, says Socrates, is “precisely chiselled” (ἀκριβῶς ἕκαστα τῶν ὀνομάτων ἀποτετόρνευται). Alcidamas and Isocrates frequently employed ἀκρίβεια to characterise the qualities of written text versus unwritten.²⁸ According to Aristotle, it is the most important quality of the written style (ἔστι δὲ λέξις γραφικὴ μὲν ἡ ἀκριβεστάτη, Arist. Rhet. 3.1413b8).²⁹

 Hdt. 4.16.1; 5.54.1. Crane 1996, 65. On the importance of the notion of ’exactness’ in Classical Greek, see Kurz 1970. On ‘saying precisely’ in Homer and on a possible conceptual metaphor of archery in ἀτρεκέως, see Zanker 2019, 131.  A good example of the vocabulary of creative effort as belonging to the contemporary discourses of society without however a clear authorial indication, is Thucydides’ programmatic “to such extent many people take no trouble to search for the truth” (οὕτως ἀταλαίπωρος τοῖς πολλοῖς ἡ ζήτησις τῆς ἀληθείας, 1, 20, 3). Cf. Ar. fr. 265 PCG: οὕτως αὐτοῖς ἀταλαιπώρως ἡ ποίησις διέκειτο (“so carefree for them was the making of poetry”). Gomme 1945 ad loc.: “a dozen writers may have used this phrase; and was Thucydides a popular author?” This case supports my argument that it was not particular authors and texts but the cultural and intellectual background and contemporary discourse that contributed to the establishment of the vocabulary of scholarship in Greece towards the end of the fifth century BCE. On Thucydides’ ’preciseness’ and his methodology of analysis, see Kurz 1970, 40 – 61, Trédé 1983, and Crane 1996, 50 – 73. Cf. Also Prodicus DK84 A9: ἐζήλωσε δ’ ἐπ’ ὀλίγον, ὥς φησιν Ἄντυλλος, καὶ τὰς Γοργίου τοῦ Λεοντίνου παρισώσεις καὶ τὰς ἀντιθέσεις τῶν ὀνομάτων, εὐδοκιμούσας κατ’ ἐκεῖνο καιροῦ παρὰ τοῖς Ἕλλησι καὶ μέντοι καὶ Προδίκου τοῦ Κείου τὴν ἐπὶ τοῖς ὀνόμασιν ἀκριβολογίαν (Marcell. V. Thuc. 36). The term ἀκριβολογία is obviously anachronistic, but the fact that the ancient sources (and we cannot be sure how early these sources might go) considered Prodicus a ’philologist’ and ascribed Alexandrean methodology to Thucydides remains remarkable (DK84 A9 = R2 Laks-Most). Lapini 2015, 1015– 1016.  See p. 84 above.  Alcid. 11, 13, 14, 16, 25, 33, 34 AS; Isocr. 4.11; 5.4; 5.155. See detailed discussion in O’Sullivan 1992, 42– 49. See also Kurz 1970, 22– 34, and Berzins McCoy 2009. On the use of the term ἀκρίβεια in Plato, cf. Pl. Tht. 184c, Phd. 262a-c, Phil. 56b ff., Resp. 340e, 341b-c, 403d, Tim. 29b-d, Soph. 245e.  See Arist. Rhet. 3.1413b.8 – 1414a15. On Aristotle’s approach to “exactness”, with many parallels, see Stark-Steinmetz 1972, 47– 48.

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Proto-Alexandrian ἀκρίβεια as a philological criterion is seen here in an embryonic form. A certain exactness of information was thus considered important in late fifth century BCE Athens. Comedy reflected current issues. This can be seen in the intensive use of scholarly vocabulary in Thucydides and Aristophanes such as ηὗρον (“I found”), τεκμηρίῳ πιστεῦσαι (“to believe the evidence”), ἀβασανίστως δέχονται (“accept without examination”), “examine” (βασανιεῖν) the tragedies “word for word” (κατ’ ἔπος, Ar. Ra. 802). In the context of contemporary scholarly discourse, it is likely that ἀκρίβεια was a text-critical technical designation that was echoed by comic playwrights around the last decades of the fifth century BCE, and that Thucydides applies the term to historiography. At the same time, Aristophanes and Protagoras searched for ’errors’ (DK80 A29 =D25 Laks-Most = Arist. Poet. 1456b15 – 17). By criticising (ἐπιτιμᾷ), Protagoras looks for errors committed (ἡμαρτῆσθαι). The notion “error” is used repeatedly in the analysis of the prologues in Aristophanes’ Frogs (Ar. Ra. 1131– 1148) such as verses 1131 (ἁμαρτίας), 1135 (ἡμάρτηκεν), 1137 (ἁμαρτεῖν), and 1147 (ἐξήμαρτες), always applied to the textual analysis of tragedy.³⁰ The search for errors, an important aspect of later philological studies, is seen in the agon of Aristophanes’ Frogs. Every verse of Aeschylus’ passage contains twenty errors (ἔχει δ’ ἕκαστον εἴκοσίν γ’ ἁμαρτίας, v. 1131), claims Euripides, and almost immediately after this he adds that Aeschylus “committed a cosmic error right now” (εὐθὺς γὰρ ἡμάρτηκεν, οὐράνιόν γ’ ὅσον, v. 1135). “How do you mean I committed an error?” (πῶς φῄς μ’ ἁμαρτεῖν; v. 1137) responds Aeschylus. Euripides later repeats, “you committed an even bigger error than I thought” (ἔτι μεῖζον ἐξήμαρτες ἢ ’γὼ ’βουλόμην, v. 1147). The noun ἁμαρτία as well as the verbs ἁμαρτάνω and ἐξαμαρτάνω are emphasised, with Aeschylus and Euripides looking for each other’s errors (though, to be precise, all my examples refer to Euripides’ criticism of Aeschylus’ language). The concept of ἁμαρτία, searching for linguistic errors, belongs to the semantic field of the ’correctness’ of language and might have been part of Protagoras’ terminology. Democritus allegedly referred to ’speaking without errors’ (λέγειν ἀναμαρτήτως) in his etymological interpretation of Athena’s epithet Τριτογένεια (DK68 B2).³¹ Aristotle in his account of Protagoras’ method used the same verb ἁμαρτάνω (DK80 A29 = Arist. Poet. 19.1456b15) and another verb, σολοικίζω (DK80 A28 = D24 Laks-Most = Arist. Soph. el. 14.173b), describing, in

 On the concept of ἁμαρτία in Aristotle, see Lucas 1968, 299 – 307.  On Democritus’ interpretative methods, see above pp. 155 – 162.

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fact, a very similar process.³² The process of searching for errors continued in scholarly circles into the fourth century BCE. Theophrastus, for example, seems to have composed a treatise with the title Περὶ σολοικισμῶν (fr. 666 FHSG). Archaic and Classical generic variety and intermediality thus constitute a background, or rather a substratum, for the critical thinking. Comedy played an important role in this substratum which influenced textual criticism, literary criticism and linguistic studies of the fifth century BCE, and also of later Greek text exegesis and hermeneutic theories.

8.3 Late Classical critical methods This process continued in the fourth century BCE, and we have many more texts from the Late Classical period as evidence. Methodical, theoretical and practical approaches to the study of language, text, style and interpretation were already largely established by the beginning of the fourth century. Furthermore, as Malcolm Heath put it, “posing problems and suggesting solutions came to be an activity of cultured leisure”.³³ Post-Aristophanic and pre-Aristotelian material on Greek scholarly narrative is rich and complex. Plato’s dialogues are full of allusions and reflections on contemporary textual criticism, including ’the correctness of designations’ (ὀνομάτων ὀρθότης, Pl. Crat. 384b, cf. Pl. Euthyd. 277e), ’explain/interpret (Homeric) text’ (ἐξηγεῖσθαι τὸν ποιητήν, cf. (Pl. Ion 530b–c; 539d–e; Pl. Crat. 407a8-b2), a range of terms describing the process of working with letters and syllables such as ’to restore ’X’ in place of the ’Y’’ (ἀποδιδόναι νῦ ἀντὶ τοῦ δέλτα, Pl. Crat. 417ab), ’the word means’ (ὄνομα βούλεται, Pl. Crat. 417a-b), ’the word signifies’ (ὀνομάζει, Pl. Crat. 417a-b), ’to insert ’X’ instead of the ’Y’’ (ἐντίθεσθαι δέλτα ἀντὶ τοῦ νῦ, Pl. Crat. 417a-b), ’to change the senses of words’ (ἀλλοιοῦν τὰς τῶν ὀνομάτων διανοίας, Pl. Crat. 418a-c), ’to introduce changes’ (παραστρέφειν, Pl. Crat. 418ac), ’to make signify’ (ποιεῖν σημαίνειν, Pl. Crat. 418a-c), ’to turn/misrepresent letter X to Y’ (ἀντὶ τοῦ δέλτα ζῆτα μεταστρέφειν, Pl. Crat. 418a-c), ‘subtract’ (ἐξαιρεῖν, Pl. Crat. 418a-c; 431e-432a), or ‘add’ (προστίθεσθαι, Pl. Crat. 418a-c; 431e432a), or ‘transpose’ (μετατίθεσθαι, Pl. Crat. 431e-432a) a letter.³⁴  On Protagoras’ search for errors, see above p. 64. Other comic playwrights reflected the correctness of diction as well; on the mocking of prosodic errors and their correction on stage, see Plato’s Hyperbolos fr. 183 PCG and pp. 135– 142.  See Heath 2009, 252– 253 with further bibliography.  On phonological vocabulary in Plato’s Cratylus, see also p. 76 above.

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A further important word signalling scholarly method is δύσκριτος. In Plato’s Hippias Minor Socrates claims that the question concerning who is ’better’ represented by Homer (ὁπότερος τούτοιν τοῖν ἀνδροῖν ἀμείνων πεποίηται τῷ ποιητῇ) remains difficult to judge/solve (δύσκριτον) as both characters are very similar (ἀμφοτέρω γὰρ καὶ κατὰ τοῦτο παραπλησίω ἐστόν), at least as far as truthfulness and deceptiveness are concerned (Pl. Hp. Mi. 370d7-e). Zoilus apparently claimed that brute animals (τὰ ἄλογα τῶν ζῴων) were a doubtful/indiscriminate target for Apollo’s anger (ἄκριτον ἦν παρανάλωμα τῆς ᾿Aπόλλωνος ὀργῆς) (Zoil. BNJ 71 fr. 5 = Heracl. Hom. Probl. 14, 1– 2). As argued above, here we may refer to Parmenides, who had criticised a lack of human capacity to judge (κρίνειν) “undistinguishable, confused” people (using the passive Homeric adjective ἄκριτος) as “being non-critical”, κωφοὶ ὁμῶς τυφλοί τε, τεθηπότες, ἄκριτα φῦλα (DK28 B2 = D6 Laks-Most, DK28 B6 = D7 Laks-Most).³⁵ The crucial word for philological work, κρίνειν, was thus seen as significant with reference to the Homeric text at least from the time of late Classical Athens. Plato neither explored textual problems specifically nor was known for editorial or critical studies. However, his dialogues are full of allusions and reflections on contemporary textual criticism discourses, which constitute a necessary part of Plato’s process of generic literary and dramatic analysis. Moreover, his work contributed to the establishment of certain normative questions and terminology for the analysis of literary and textual criticism.³⁶ Ideas about language structure and categories, etymologies, prosody and syntax, style and plot criticism all circulate in Plato’s sophistic dialogues.³⁷ In Plato’s works, sophists such as Protagoras, Prodicus, Gorgias and Hippias discuss various scholarly issues which are either closely connected with or a by-product of the analysis of particular epic, lyric and tragic texts. The much-discussed correct usage of names linked to Prodicus of Ceus, who allegedly taught courses on the correctness of designations (ὀνομάτων ὀρθότης, Pl. Crat. 384b, cf. Pl. Euthyd. 277e) should be understood as part of the same context as the word explanations of the fifth century BCE discussed above.³⁸ Social and style registers and their correct use was common knowledge long before Plato, as shown by the depictions of peasants in Aristophanic comedies who are forced to learn sophistic vocabulary (such as Strepsiades in the Clouds), or

 See also pp. 192, 205, and 206.  Vicaire 1960; Wilke 1997, 81– 114.  The specific language and literary issues are discussed in the chapters above, whilst textual problems as reflected in Platonic text will be the focus of this section.  On the correctness of names and the key word ’correct’, significant for all three branches of scholarship – textual, literary and linguistic studies – see above, pp. 57– 63.

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of young advocates required to explain Homeric expressions (such as the fatherand-son-dialogue in the Daitales fr. 233 PCG).³⁹ What’s more, the correct usage of names is the main topic of discussion between Socrates and Hermogenes in Plato’s Cratylus, starting with the use of Homeric text to ’search’ for the definition of the subject (χρὴ ζητεῖν… ἥτις ποτ’ αὖ ἐστιν αὐτοῦ ἡ ὀρθότης Pl. Crat. 391b3).⁴⁰ On many occasions (πολλαχοῦ) Homer speaks about names (Ὅμηρος περὶ ὀνομάτων and αὐτὸν μέγα τι καὶ θαυμάσιον λέγειν ἐν τούτοις περὶ ὀνομάτων ὀρθότητος), but particularly noteworthy is his discussion concerning the same things that are called differently by gods and mortals (ἐν οἷς διορίζει ἐπὶ τοῖς αὐτοῖς ἅ τε οἱ ἄνθρωποι ὀνόματα καλοῦσι καὶ οἱ θεοί, 391d). Socrates quotes various verses from the Iliad (Il. 20.74, 14.291 and 2.813 – 814) where double designations, such as the river Ξάνθος (or Σκάμανδρος), the bird χαλκίς (or κύμινδις), and the hill Βατίεια (or Μυρίνη), appear (Pl. Crat. 391e4– 392b2). The passage recalls studies on obsolete words (γλῶσσαι) and on the ’solution of problems’.⁴¹ Plato himself makes this context clear, for example when his Socrates explains the name of Athena (Pl. Crat. 407a8-b2): ἐοίκασι δὴ καὶ οἱ παλαιοὶ τὴν ᾿Aθηνᾶν νομίζειν ὥσπερ οἱ νῦν περὶ Ὅμηρον δεινοί. καὶ γὰρ τούτων οἱ πολλοὶ ἐξηγούμενοι τὸν ποιητήν φασι τὴν ᾿Aθηνᾶν αὐτὸν νοῦν τε καὶ διάνοιαν πεποιηκέναι… Ancient people seem to have believed the same about Athena as the interpreters of Homer now believe. For, in interpreting (the text of) the poet, many of them say that he created Athena as mind and intellect…

Plato refers to contemporary Homeric exegesis here, as shown by the use of terms such as “those who (provide explanations) concerning Homer” (οἱ νῦν περὶ Ὅμηρον δεινοί) and “the many who interpret the poet” (οἱ πολλοὶ ἐξηγούμενοι τὸν ποιητήν). The verb “explain/interpret” (ἐξηγεῖσθαι) is found here at the inception of the concept of exegesis.⁴² These listed terms refer to the main branches of Homeric hermeneutics, the rhapsodes Homeridae, who explained the Homeric text and functioned as guardians of the Homeric tradition and its transmission, and such Homeric ’scholars’, known by name and discussed

 See above pp. 146, 151– 152.  Plato generally made use of the Homeric text. 225 quotations from Homeric poems are found in Plato’s corpus, see Clay 2011, 673. On the ’Panathenaic standard’ of Homeric poetry, which was common in Plato’s time, see Nagy 2009, 354– 356.  Ademollo 2011, 149 – 152.  On the sophistic exegesis of Homer περὶ Ὁμήρου λέγειν in Hipp. Mai. 286a3-c1, see Westermann 2002, 269 – 271.

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above, who compared different versions of the transmitted text and explored ’problems’ while offering ’solutions’.⁴³ We also see this exactness in according meanings to words and in discussing the origin of words in a long passage in the Cratylus (391b-419b), which is thematically linked to the Doric rhetorical exercise Pairs of Arguments (Δισσοὶ λόγοι, DK90 B5, 11– 12).⁴⁴ The linguistic element of this argument has been discussed above.⁴⁵ Here we will focus on important designations that would later contribute to the technical vocabulary of textual scholarship. Socrates plays with various etymologies whilst orally ’emending’ words, or (in other words) whilst replacing letters and changing syllables, something that paradoxically renders him close to the Homeric scholars (Pl. Crat. 417a-b): τὸ δέ γε “κερδαλέον” ἀπὸ τοῦ κέρδους. “κέρδος” δὲ νῦ ἀντὶ τοῦ δέλτα ἀποδιδόντι ἐς τὸ ὄνομα δηλοῖ ὃ βούλεται· τὸ γὰρ ἀγαθὸν κατ’ ἄλλον τρόπον ὀνομάζει. ὅτι γὰρ κεράννυται ἐς πάντα διεξιόν, ταύτην αὐτοῦ τὴν δύναμιν ἐπονομάζων ἔθετο τοὔνομα· δέλτα ἐνθεὶς ἀντὶ τοῦ νῦ “κέρδος” ἐφθέγξατο. But the word κερδαλέον derives from κέρδος (’gain’). If you restore ’nu’ in the word κέρδος in place of the ’delta’, it is clear what the word means; for it signifies ’good’ in another way. It is because passing through it is ’mingled’ (κεράννυται) with everything, (the creator) gave it this name indicating this particular quality of it; but he inserted a ’delta’ instead of ’nu’ and spelled κέρδος.

This passage clearly shows how intermingled semantic issues are with textual criticism, and how word correction in oral speech shared vocabulary with text emendation in written text. Semantic concepts in the Cratylus have already been discussed above in chapter 3, but for the purposes of this chapter the use of scholarly vocabulary such as ’correcting’ words in a text is striking: ’to restore one letter instead of the other in the word’ (ἀποδιδόναι νῦ ἀντὶ τοῦ δέλτα), ’the word means’ (ὄνομα βούλεται), ’the word signifies’ (ὀνομάζει), ’to insert a letter instead of another letter’ (ἐντίθεσθαι δέλτα ἀντὶ τοῦ νῦ), ’to spell’ (φθέγγεσθαι). Discourses on letters were significant at the end of the fifth century BCE in Athens, with alphabet(s) and letters becoming relevant to societal interest. Whilst Leucippus and Democritus might have discussed the arrangement of letters (τάξις), as well as their positional orientation (θέσις),⁴⁶ Plato describes using letters and syllables in order to change the form

 On rhapsodic ’making’ of Homeric text, see Burkert 1987.  See pp. 167– 168 Ademollo 2011, 152– 236.  See pp. 56 – 61 above.  DK67 A6 = D31 Laks-Most = Arist. Met. A 4.985b 10 – 22 and Arist. De gen. et corr. II 2.315b 6 – 15.

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and meaning of the word, and this approaches the craftsmanship of a scholar emending a manuscript to render it, in some sense, true.⁴⁷ Socrates later highlights this issue in an even more marked way (Pl. Crat. 418a-c): θέασαι, ὦ Ἑρμόγενες, ὡς ἐγὼ ἀληθῆ λέγω λέγων ὅτι προστιθέντες γράμματα καὶ ἐξαιροῦντες σφόδρα ἀλλοιοῦσι τὰς τῶν ὀνομάτων διανοίας, οὕτως ὥστε σμικρὰ πάνυ παραστρέφοντες ἐνίοτε τἀναντία ποιεῖν σημαίνειν… οἶσθα ὅτι οἱ παλαιοὶ οἱ ἡμέτεροι τῷ ἰῶτα καὶ τῷ δέλτα εὖ μάλα ἐχρῶντο, καὶ οὐχ ἥκιστα αἱ γυναῖκες, αἵπερ μάλιστα τὴν ἀρχαίαν φωνὴν σῴζουσι. νῦν δὲ ἀντὶ μὲν τοῦ ἰῶτα ἢ εἶ ἢ ἦτα μεταστρέφουσιν, ἀντὶ δὲ τοῦ δέλτα ζῆτα, ὡς δὴ μεγαλοπρεπέστερα ὄντα. Look, Hermogenes, how I say the truth when I say that by adding and subtracting letters people alter the senses of words to such extent that even by introducing very slight changes they sometimes make them signify the opposite… You know that our ancestors made good use of the sounds of ’iota’ and ’delta’, and that is especially true of the women, who are the best at preserving old pronunciation. But nowadays people turn ’iota’ to ’epsilon-iota’ or ’eta’’, and ’delta’ to ’zeta’, in order to make a grander sound.

Plato is referring here to differences in pronunciation, but ’to add letters’ (προστίθεσθαι γράμματα), ’to subtract letters’ (ἐξαιρεῖν γράμματα), ’to change/alter the senses of words’ (ἀλλοιοῦν τὰς τῶν ὀνομάτων διανοίας), ’to introduce changes’ (παραστρέφειν), ’to make signify’ (ποιεῖν σημαίνειν), and ’to turn/misrepresent letter X to Y’ (ἀντὶ τοῦ δέλτα ζῆτα μεταστρέφειν) all belong to the routine vocabulary of textual scholarship.⁴⁸ The frequency of words describing the process of working with letters and syllables means that we can here observe an important piece of surviving evidence showing the growth of scholarship. Plato draws important conclusions from these vivid interactions between oral and written formats. If the words are made (τοῖς ὀνόμασιν ἀποδιδῶμεν) out of letters of the alphabet (ταῦτα τὰ γράμματα, τό τε ἄλφα καὶ τὸ βῆτα καὶ ἕκαστον τῶν στοιχείων), and assigned to names, according to the discipline of grammar (τῇ γραμματικῇ τέχνῃ), if we subtract (ἀφέλωμεν), or add (προσθῶμεν), or transpose a letter (μεταθῶμέν τι), it does not follow that the name has been written (γέγραπται μὲν ἡμῖν τὸ ὄνομα) but incorrectly (οὐ μέντοι ὀρθῶς). In fact, the name has not been written at all (τὸ παράπαν οὐδὲ γέγραπται). Rather, if any of these occur, what has been written is immediately a different name (ἀλλ’ εὐθὺς ἕτερόν ἐστιν) (Pl. Crat. 431e-432a). The role of the written text is essential, even more so is the role of the scribe or the scholar. The differences in replacing letters are no longer only

 On the growing societal function of writing in Classical period, see above pp. 11– 13 and 17– 24.  Ademollo 2011, 227– 233.

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relevant to pronunciation. As soon as it is a written text, mistakes count differently: wrong spelling leads to a different meaning, and thus to alterations of the meaning. Without declaring his interest in textual criticism per se, Plato is making a point especially relevant to the notions and vocabulary of textual criticism. Therefore, it is evident that the multi-faceted and multi-layered process of textual criticism is documented in various literary texts. Comedy was actively involved in this process. Textual studies and the explanation of epic verses through close reading, as can be seen, for example, in Antimachus’ fragments discussed in chapter 7, developed in parallel with flourishing rhetoric and stylistic studies. Epithets, metaphors, and syntactic constructions were evaluated and critiqued. Metre, genre, text structure and style terminology found their place among other academic languages, crystallising into critical treatises. Having mapped out this framework of pre-Alexandrian scholarship, I come to my suggestion for a contribution that comedy has made to this field.

8.4 The cluster of γελοῖον in criticism: absurd, odd, out of place 8.4.1 γελοῖον in theatrical performance Laughter itself which belongs to the realm of the genre of comedy has been discussed and evaluated on stage. Comedy may have accelerated the process by which the complex aesthetic criterion of the “amusing/ridiculous” (γελοῖον) passed into the genre of criticism.⁴⁹ Laughter as discussed in comedy has notably been classified into three categories: the laughter ‘of derision’ and superiority (Ar. Nu. 1035: εἴπερ τὸν ἄνδρ’ ὑπερβαλεῖ καὶ μὴ γέλωτ’ ὀφλήσεις, Ar. Thesm. 941– 942: ἵνα μὴ ’ν κροκωτοῖς καὶ μίτραις γέρων ἀνὴρ γέλωτα παρέχω τοῖς κόραξιν ἑστιῶν, Ra. 45: οὐχ οἷός τ’ εἴμ’ ἀποσοβῆσαι τὸν γέλων, com. adesp. fr. 225 PCG: μὴ γέλων ὀφλὼν λάθω), ‘provoked laughter’ deliberately triggered by a character whose interest is served through the sympathy induced (Epich. 32, 3 – 4 PCG: καὶ ποιέω πολὺν γέλωτα, Ar. Vesp. 57: γέλωτα Μεγαρόθεν κεκλεμμένον, 1260 – 1261: κᾆτ’ εἰς γέλων τὸ πρᾶγμ’ ἔτρεψας, ὥστ’ ἀφείς σ’ ἀποίχεται, Ar. Nu. 539: τοῖς παιδίοις ἵν’ ᾖ γέλως), and laughter used to express joy and pleasure, this being a major aim of comic playwright (Ar. Av. 732: νεότητα, γέλωτα, χορούς, θαλίας, An-

 Cf. Tr. Coisl. 4: κωμῳδία ἐστὶ μίμησις πράξεως γελοίας… ἔχει δὲ μητέρα τὸν γέλωτα (“Comedy is an imitation of a ridiculous action… It has laughter as its mother”) and Janko 1984, 160 – 161.

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tiph. fr. 142, 7 PCG: ἡμῖν δὲ μετὰ γέλωτος ὁ βίος καὶ τρυφῆς).⁵⁰ Laughter as an embodied social phenomenon on the comic stage, with its political mockery and democratic form, was a matter to be commented and reflected upon. The shared cognitive and emotional stance of author, audience, characters and actors performed the creation of ‘amusement/ridiculousness’. In Cratinus, a chorus addresses the audience about their aesthetic criteria of judgement when watching a comedy: “you crowd who laughs at pointless jokes” (ὦ μέγ’ ἀχρειόγελως ὅμιλε, fr. 360 PCG).⁵¹ From the start, the well-known prologue scene in Aristophanes’ Frogs thematises spectators’ laughter as a task of the comic performance: “should I tell, master, one of those usual (jokes), that the spectators always laugh at?” (Εἴπω τι τῶν εἰωθότων, ὦ δέσποτα, ἐφ’ οἷς ἀεὶ γελῶσιν οἱ θεώμενοι; Ar. Ra. 1– 2), “something else funny then?” (μηδ’ ἕτερον ἀστεῖόν τι; Ar. Ra. 5) and “shall I say something really ridiculous?” (τὸ πάνυ γέλοιον εἴπω; Ar. Ra. 6). This task and aim of being amusing/ridiculous is supported linguistically by syntactic constructions of end and purpose such as ἐφ’ οἷς γελῶσιν.⁵² Furthermore, laughter is embodied on stage. The comic playwright Sannyrion wrote in the late 5th century BCE his comedy Γέλως (“Laughter”), where laughter was experienced on stage, perhaps presented as an allegorical character.⁵³ We do not know much about this play, but some verses from it about the tragedian Meletus referred to as “the dead from the Lenaea festival” (fr. 2 PCG) and reference to the fact that Aristophanes’ plays were directed by other didaskaloi (fr. 5 PCG) are noteworthy as they reveal the self-reflexivity of (and in) drama. Similarly, the playwright Lysippus staged the comedy titled Καταχῆναι (“Mockeries”) in 409 BCE. Perhaps mockeries were embodied as well. The plural title suggests that perhaps the chorus consisted of personified ‘mockeries’ of various

 Sommerstein 2009, 104– 115 and Orth 2015, 376. See also Swallow 2020, 7. On the concepts of humour and the functions of laughter in comedy, see also Lowe 2007, 1– 20, Watson 2012, 188 – 250, Halliwell 2014; Lowe 2020, Hall 2020, Jendza 2020b. On “the greathearted laughter of Old comedy”, see Reckford 1987, 387, and the ambiguous laughter in comedy more generally, 367– 387.  On a subtle allusion of Cratinus’ ἀχρειόγελως to the ’pointless laughter’ of Penelope in Od. 18.163 (ἀχρεῖον δ’ ἐγέλασσεν), see Halliwell 2008, 95 n. 104.  On ἐπί with Dat. cf. Kühner-Gerth 2, 1, 502– 503 and ἵν’ ᾖ γέλως, Ar. Nu. 539. Cf. also Ar. Vesp. 566 – 567. See Sommerstein 2000, 72 and Katsis 2017, 844– 845.  See Orth 2015, 376 – 378. On Old Comedy as a form of ritual laughter, see Halliwell 2008, 206 – 214. On personification as “a terminology-specific subcategory of metaphor”, see Matzner 2016, 147– 154 with an especially relevant example on laughter from Goethe “Wie glänzt die Sonne! Wie lacht die Flur!” (p. 148)).

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types.⁵⁴ After all, laughter can also be eaten, be experienced through olfactory and gustatory sensors (ἐπὶ τῷ ταρίχει τὸν γέλωτα κατέδομαι, Ar. fr. 639 PCG).⁵⁵ γελοῖος becomes a synonym for comic and an attribute of comedy. In Plato’s Symposion, Alcibiades formulates it clearly by describing Aristophanes sitting in front of him: “You did not choose to be next to Aristophanes or someone else who is or wishes to be geloios” (ὡς οὐ παρὰ ᾿Aριστοφάνει οὐδὲ εἴ τις ἄλλος γελοῖος ἔστι τε καὶ βούλεται, Pl. Symp. 213c). Doing comedy is clearly a profession, and that profession includes, among other things or above all, the field of laughter.⁵⁶ Aristotle’s much-quoted definition of ’amusing/ridiculous’ in his discussion of comedy reads as follows: “the geloion is a sort of error and ugliness (τὸ γὰρ γελοῖόν ἐστιν ἁμάρτημά τι καὶ αἶσχος) that is not painful and destructive (ἀνώδυνον καὶ οὐ φθαρτικόν), just as evidently a comic mask (τὸ γελοῖον πρόσωπον) is something ugly and distorted without pain” (Arist. Poet. 5.1449a34 – 37).⁵⁷ The ‘fault/error’ and any ‘shame/deformity’ that results should not involve either pain or destruction on the part of the recipient. Aristotle argues that it is geloion that triggers a dynamic complex relationship between the author, the audience, the actor, the character, and the text of comedy making the comparison (οἷον εὐθὺς) of laughter with a mask. Both sides, the character and the recipient, are involved in this emotional process. The comic mask is just as ugly and painlessly distorted (αἰσχρόν τι καὶ διεστραμμένον ἄνευ ὀδύνης) as the abstract ‘ridiculous’. This stands in for the experience of the character and the actor.⁵⁸ The comic mask as an obvious embodiment of laughter does not cause pain and brings no destruction. It is “not disgraceful in a moral sense, and its distortion is the wrongness of a thing rather than an action, and thus wrongness in the broad rather than a narrower sense”.⁵⁹

 Cf. also Crates’ Paidiai and possible chorus-members who represented various game-types or/and joke-types. See Bagordo 2014, 67– 68 and Perrone 2019, 145 – 146. On the personification of Paidia in Athenian pottery contemporary with Old comedy, see Hall 2020.  Bagordo 2016, 179 – 181.  Cf. also Pl. Symp. 189a-b, where Aristophanes laughingly (τὸν ᾿Aριστοφάνη γελάσαντα εἰπεῖν) explains what laughter is (οὔ τι μὴ γελοῖα εἴπω… ἀλλὰ μὴ καταγέλαστα). On the frequent use of the laughter-related vocabulary and on the term τὸ γελοῖον in Plato’s Symposion see Jazdzewska 2018, 188 – 193.  On the usages of geloion in Aristotle, see Jaulin 2000 and Melista 2017. See also Destrée 2019.  For discussion of Aristotle’s passage see Reckford 1987, 370 and Halliwell 2008, 326 – 327. See also Watson 2012, 189 – 191. On Aristotle’s appreciation of Aristophanic humour, see recently Destrée 2020.  Watson 2012, 190. The absence of ’destruction’ (οὐ φθαρτικόν) here in Aristotle obviously contradicts his own reference in Rhetoric book 3 to the famous ’destructive’ power of laughter

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In an earlier passage, Aristotle asserts that comedy is concerned with the ’amusing/ridiculous’ (τὸ γελοῖον) that Homer dramatises in his Margites, while tragedy has ’serious’ (τὰ σπουδαῖα) concerns that Homer sings about in the Iliad and the Odyssey (Arist. Poet. 4.1448b33 – 1449a2). Margites is related to the comedies (οὗτος πρὸς τὰς κωμῳδίας) in the same way that the Iliad and the Odyssey are related to the tragedies (πρὸς τὰς τραγῳδίας). The ’amusing’ and the ’serious’ are thus clearly juxtaposed. The double chorus in the Frogs incorporates the relationship of these opposites into its very appearance, and the chorus of the initiates claims for victory: “allow me to say many funny things and many serious” (καὶ πολλὰ μὲν γελοῖά μ’ εἰπεῖν, πολλὰ δὲ σπουδαῖα, Ar. Ra. 391– 392). The detailed literary criticism of the second half of the play is thus approached through the comicality of a long series of farcical scenes following one after the other in the first half. In other words, according to Aristophanes, comic practice encompasses both realms, that of laughter and that of seriousness, an important assertion that is not considered in Aristotle’s analysis. The problem related to Aristotle’s treatment is perhaps its partiality – which in turn is related to the well-known partiality of Aristotle’s more general treatment of comedy and laughter – in the form we have been given.⁶⁰ He claims to have discussed in the Poetics how many kinds of geloion there are (εἴρηται πόσα εἴδη γελοίων ἔστιν ἐν τοῖς περὶ ποιητικῆς, Arist. Rhet. 3, 18, 7 1419b6), but Aristotle’s discussion of laughter remains superficial in Poetics 5: who is the recipient involved in the emotional process of fault and shame – the spectator, the actor, or the character? Aristotle discusses the nature of plot in comedy and tragedy and claims that tragedies do not necessarily depend on traditional myths; some of them can be delightful (οὐδὲν ἧττον εὐφραίνει) without being based on any recognisable name. Consequently, one should not seek to keep entirely to the traditional plots of tragedy (ὥστ’ οὐ πάντως εἶναι ζητητέον τῶν παραδεδομένων μύθων, περὶ οὓς αἱ τραγῳδίαι εἰσίν, ἀντέχεσθαι), and in fact it is γελοῖον to seek to do so (καὶ γὰρ γελοῖον τοῦτο ζητεῖν), since even the well-known subjects are known only to a few people, but nonetheless everyone enjoys them (Arist. Poet. 9, 1451b14– 27). What does γελοῖον mean in Aristotle’s discussion? How did the primarily corporeal phenomenon of laughter with spasmodic contraction

(τὴν μὲν σπουδὴν διαφθείρειν τῶν ἐναντίων γέλωτι, DK82 B12 = D18 Laks-Most) of Gorgias, which will be discussed below. See also p. 13 above.  On the question of how profound the Aristotelian analysis of comedy in the lost second book of his Poetics actually was, see Silk 2000, 44 f. 3 and 53 – 64.

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of the facial muscles followed by the movements in the diaphragm become an evaluative category of criticism?⁶¹ The category of γελοῖον is otherwise employed by Aristotle in his ethical works in the discussion of wittiness (εὐτραπελία) as a good sense of humour. γελοῖον is on the one hand correctly associated with Old Comedy as its fundamental characteristic, on the other hand Aristotle’s evaluation of excessive and vulgar laughter – pace Aristophanic own evaluation – became emblematic and influenced the later assessment of the genre. Those who exaggerate laughter seem to be vulgar buffoons (βωμολόχοι δοκοῦσιν εἶναι καὶ φορτικοί) who strive for their laughter at any cost (γλιχόμενοι πάντως τοῦ γελοίου), and try to generate a laugh (μᾶλλον στοχαζόμενοι τοῦ γέλωτα ποιῆσαι) rather than speak decently (ἢ τοῦ λέγειν εὐσχήμονα, Arist. NE 4, 8 1128a4– 7). γελοῖον for the Old comic playwrights was obscentity (τοῖς μὲν γὰρ ἦν γελοῖον ἡ αἰσχρολογία), claims Aristotle, whilst his contemporary comedy prefers suggestiveness (τοῖς δὲ μᾶλλον ἡ ὑπόνοια, Arist. NE 4, 8 1128a23 – 24).⁶² Aristotle specifies this approach elsewhere when he considers ’wittiness’ as an emotion (ἕκαστον γὰρ αὐτῶν πάθος τι ἐστίν, Arist. EE 3, 7 1234a25) rather than a virtue and divides it into two different types: the ability to enjoy jokes and the ability to make jokes. There are two different kinds of wit (οὔσης δὲ διττῆς τῆς εὐτραπελίας), argues Aristotle. One consists in liking a joke (ἣ μὲν γὰρ ἐν τῷ χαίρειν ἐστι τῷ γελοίῳ), even one directed against oneself, if it is funny, like a jeer (τῷ εἰς αὐτόν, ἐὰν ᾖ τοιονδί, ὧν ἓν καὶ τὸ σκῶμμα ἐστίν), the other kind is in the faculty to produce such things (δ’ ἐν τῷ δύνασθαι τοιαῦτα πορίζεσθαι). Those who who can produce such jokes that will give pleasure to a good judge (τοιαῦτα πορίζεσθαι ἐφ’ ὅσοις ἡσθήσεται ὁ εὖ κρίνων) even though the laugh is against himself (κἂν εἰς αὐτὸν ᾖ τὸ γελοῖον) will be midway between the vulgar man (τοῦ φορτικοῦ) and the frigid (τοῦ ψυχροῦ, Arist. EE 3, 7 1234a14– 21). Old Attic comedy with its buffoons is implicitly part of this discussion, as the way of receiving laughter is defined: the vulgar buffoon should always take jokes lightly and with pleasure (πάντα εὐχερῶς καὶ ἡδέως, Arist. EE 3, 7 1234a10). This ’pleasure/joy’ is indeed one of the most important components of Aristotle’s concept of laughter, which brings his theoretical consideration close to the self-referential claims of the comic playwrights discussed above. In his Rhetoric, he emphasises that since laughter is pleasant (ὁ γέλως τῶν ἡδέων), amusing/ri-

 On laughter as a ‘bodily affair’ see Critchley 2002, 7– 9.  On the passage see Reckford 1987, 373 – 375.

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diculous things should also be pleasant (ἀνάγκη καὶ τὰ γελοῖα ἡδέα εἶναι, Arist. Rhet. 1, 11, 29 1371b34– 35).⁶³ Overall, three kinds of laughter can be distinguished in Aristotle, which are also in line with previous tradition: irony (εἰρωνεία), farce (βωμολοχία) and mockery/derision (γελοῖον).⁶⁴ I suggest that the latter is closest to both laughter in Old Attic comedy and to the category of “amusing/ridiculous” in textual and literary criticism. Aristotle’s use of the term γελοῖον in theoretical discussion of plot in drama and the definition of this term as a central concept in the discussion of comedy bridges laughter in comedy and the theoretical treatment of laughter, bringing experiential emotional aspects into play; in other words, in the vivid performance of comedy he entwines the experience of laughing and being laughed at with the theory of laughter. Laughter during theatrical performance suggests its physical nature with the whole complex of performative elements, creating enthralling narrative action, intellectual intensity, and strong feelings of empathy, with new approaches to text, space, masks, body movements, gestures, music and emotions. The audience experienced the process of laughter regularly at the dramatic festivals and it was this laughter that was the criterion of judgement such as in the chorus’s and the playwright’s appeal to the judges of the festival: those who laugh with pleasure (τοῖς γελῶσι δ’ ἡδέως) should take their decision about the playwright’s work from this laughter (διὰ τὸ γελᾶν κρίνειν ἐμέ, Ar. Eccl. 1156).⁶⁵

8.4.2 γελοῖον as a critical term The ’amusing/ridiculous’ (γελοῖον) with its ‘painless ugliness’ thus emerges from the realm of comedy and becomes a non-corporeal stylistic effect in later literary and rhetorical theory.⁶⁶ It retained a few of the previously embodied parameters, however, including space. To laugh at somebody means to create a certain distance between oneself and the ridiculed object (with an implied deictic shifting such as “I can laugh at you!”). This distance and the awareness of space between one’s own subject and the discussed object is a crucial element of the literary

 On ’wittiness’ as the gracious ‘playfulness’ and ‘pleasure/joy’ that accompanies ‘mockery’ in Aristotle, cf. Carli 2021, 474– 488.  E. g. Arist. Rhet. 3, 18, 7 1419b8 – 10. See Jaulin 2000, 319 – 321.  The similarity of vocabulary on the reception of jokes between Aristophanes here and Aristotle’s discussion of laughter in the Eudemian Ethics above is striking.  E. g. Ps.-Dion. Hal. Rhet. 8, 5, 43; Strab. 1, 3, 22. On the concept of laughter see the discussion in Eloc. 163 – 172; Pl.-Long. Subl. 38, 5 – 6; Ps.-Herm. Meth. grav. 36.

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aesthetic criterion of ’laughable’. This sober cognitive constituent of laughter was emphasised in the fourth century CE by Donatus in his definition of comedy: comoedia est fabula diversa instituta continens affectuum civilium ac privatorum, quibus discitur, quid sit in vita utile, quid contra evitandum. (“A comedy is a play that contains different principal affects of citizens and private persons, through which one learns what is useful in life and what, on the other hand, one must avoid”, Donatus De Comoedia CGF p. 67 Kaibel). The spectator learns (quibus discitur) whilst watching a comedy. Laughter was used as a rhetorical and emotional weapon for beating a rival or gaining the audience’s favour.⁶⁷ In his criticism of the unreliability of ‘other’ sources, described as “the stories of the Greeks” (οἱ γὰρ Ἑλλήνων λόγοι) Hecataeus evaluated them as “multiple and ridiculous, as it appears to me” (πολλοί τε καὶ γελοῖοι, ὡς ἐμοὶ φαίνονται, Hecat. fr. 1a FGrHist 1). What does it mean when Hecataeus describes rivals as ‘laughable’ or ‘ridiculous’?⁶⁸ In the 4th century BCE Palaephatus wrote a text rationalising Greek mythology, which survives in a (probably corrupt) Byzantine edition. It starts with Τάδε περὶ τῶν ἀπίστων συγγέγραφα (“The following I wrote on incredible (stories?)”). This work consists of an introduction where some methodological remarks are made with further brief sections on various Greek myths.⁶⁹ The evaluative vocabulary used to describe the author’s misunderstanding or disbelief in the tales of ‘others’ which seem ridiculous is repetitive in Palaephatus: ἔστι δὲ ἄπιστος καὶ ἀδύνατος ὁ λόγος (4, 8), περὶ τούτων πολὺ γελοιότερος φέρεται λόγος (31, 1), τοῦτο δὲ γελοιότερον (31, 12). In the introduction, Palaephatus argues that some historical events have been turned by poets and prose-writers into something rather incredible and miraculous (εἰς τὸ ἀπιστότερον καὶ θαυμασιώτερον) in order to astonish (τοῦ θαυμάζειν ἕνεκα). Laughter contains an obvious bodily effect, which “silences” or “ruins” the rival. Gorgias notoriously stated that the seriousness of an opponent could be physically ’destroyed’ with laughter (τὴν μὲν σπουδὴν διαφθείρειν τῶν ἐναντίων γέλωτι), and likewise laughter with seriousness (τὸν δὲ γέλωτα σπουδῆι, DK82

 Cf. Dem. 19.23 – 24 and 46 (ὑμεῖς δ’ ἐγελᾶτε). See Halliwell 2008, 19 – 38, 227– 237 and further bibliography. See also Yossi and Melista (2017) where multi-functional aspects of laughter in Ancient Greece are discussed, especially chapters 10 (Το γελοῖον από τη σκοπιά της ποιητικής και της ρητορικής) and 11 (Το γελοῖον ως ἄτοπον). See there Spatharas 2017.  In the same vein ‘laughing’ is used in Herodotus’ passage where he laughs down (γελῶ) those who have drawn maps of the world incorrectly (γῆς περιόδους γράψαντας πολλοὺς, Hdt. 4.36.2). See Branscome 2013, 113.  Hawes 2014, 37– 91. On the methodology of Palaephatus, see Feddern 2016 with further bibliography.

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B12). Laughter can be considered as a tool in the process of debate, aiming at triggering emotions such as anger, humiliation, aggressiveness and such like.⁷⁰ Gorgias’ statement implies that the speakers’ laughter can undermine the seriousness of opponents and also that the audience’s experience of laughter can be made use of to support the speaker and defeat the opponent. This performative part of laughter is connected to iambic poetry and to comedy.⁷¹ In Plato’s Phaedrus, Socrates claims that Phaedrus will perhaps ‘laugh’ on hearing the ’strange’ divine term for eros (θεοὶ δὲ ὃ καλοῦσιν ἀκούσας εἰκότως διὰ νεότητα γελάσῃ) in the alleged ’secret’ verses of the Homeridae (ἐκ τῶν ἀποθέτων ἐπῶν), the second verse of which was too outrageous and not particularly metrical (τὸ ἕτερον ὑβριστικὸν πάνυ καὶ οὐ σφόδρα τι ἔμμετρον, Pl. Phdr. 252b1– 5). The strangeness or ’novelty’ (διὰ νεότητα) of the name should provoke Phaedrus’ laughter. Similarly, Phaedrus says elsewhere that Sophocles and Euripides would laugh down (καταγελῷεν) if somebody thought that tragedy was not a structure of dramatic units (τὴν τούτων σύστασιν, Pl. Phdr. 268d). κατάγελως, a hostile derision, is a prerogative of Aristophanic protagonists who laugh down their targets, whilst “the audience is arguably invited to align its laughter with the protagonist’s ridicule”.⁷² In Plato’s dialogue the experience of derision is transferred from the stage to the context of literary criticism, whilst Sophocles and Euripides, caught in the act of derision here, recall comic characters with the same names wearing masks and costumes.⁷³ In Plato’s Cratylus this criterion is used emphatically at the beginning and at the very end of the statement: “ Hermogenes, these things will appear ridiculous (Γελοῖα μὲν οἶμαι φανεῖσθαι, ὦ Ἑρμόγενες) when it becomes clear that they have been imitated with letters and syllables” (γράμμασι καὶ συλλαβαῖς τὰ πράγματα μεμιμημένα κατάδηλα γιγνόμενα, Pl. Crat. 425d1). At the end of the passage Socrates repeats this again in order to render his judgement clear: “What I have per-

 On the use of laughter by the orators in public contexts, see Spatharas 2006.  82 B12 DK is transmitted by Aristotle (Rhet. 3, 18, 1419b3 – 5), and belongs to a controversial area of Aristotle’s treatment of laughter due to the lost book 2 of his Poetics (see also above pp. 203 – 206). Otherwise, there is no surviving treatment of laughter as a rhetorical weapon in Aristotle.  Halliwell 2014, 194.  In Plato’s Gorgias laughter and criticism are further explicitly juxtaposed. There are two kinds of refutation, says Socrates, one is to cross-examine (ἐλέγχειν) and the other one to laugh down (καταγελᾶν, 473e). On under-estimating (εἰρωνεύεσθαι) and ridiculing (καταγελᾶν) whilst attacking the opponent, cf. Rhet. Alex. 35, 1419b15 – 27. Cf. further Xen. Cyrop. II 2, 12, Cic. Brut. 53, 197, De orat. II 58, 236, Quint. Inst. 6, 3, 11. See also Phil. Rhet. II p. 49 col. XLVIII: [ῥη]τ[ο]ρεύειν δὲ σ[π]ουδα[ίως] οὐκ ἔστιν μ[ετὰ] παιγνίας.

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ceived about first names seems to me too outrageous and ridiculous” (πάνυ μοι δοκεῖ ὑβριστικὰ εἶναι καὶ γελοῖα, Pl. Crat. 426b5 – 6).⁷⁴ Alleged wrong assumptions about events, the structure of tragedy, and linguistic issues can provoke the bodily effect of laughing. This bodily effect, as will be argued below, will become a frequently used criterion for Homeric criticism.

8.4.3 Absurd, odd, out of place The criterion of ’laughable’ as ’absurdity’ is constantly used in rhetorical judgements.⁷⁵ The vocabulary of ’absurdity’ is however multiple, γελοῖον being used as a stylistic evaluative term along with other adjectives such as ’unreasonable’ (ἄλογον) and ’absurd/out of place’ (ἄτοπον).⁷⁶ In what follows I consider some early examples of textual criticism that make use of this cluster and argue that social and corporeal laughter experienced at dramatic festivals was then reused to describe the mistaken conclusions of the others especially in the scholarly context of Homeric criticism. Plato’s Socrates in the Hippias Minor employs the criterion ἄτοπον whilst undermining Hippias’ argument and arguing that the Odysseus portrayed by the author is ‘versatile’ and never appears as a liar (ὁ μὲν Ὀδυσσεὺς οὐδαμοῦ φαίνεται ψευσάμενος), whilst Achilles does indeed lie (ψεύδεται γοῦν) and seems in fact to have been versatile. Socrates finds this ’odd’ (ἄτοπόν μοι δοκεῖ εἶναι, Pl. Hp. Mi. 369e5 – 370a).⁷⁷ Socrates claims that the question as to who is ’better’ represented by Homer (ὁπότερος τούτοιν τοῖν ἀνδροῖν ἀμείνων πεποίηται τῷ ποιητῇ) remains difficult to solve (δύσκριτον), as both characters are very similar (ἀμφοτέρω γὰρ καὶ κατὰ τοῦτο παραπλησίω ἐστόν), at least as far as their truthfulness and deceptiveness are concerned (Pl. Hp. Mi. 370d7-e). It is hard to evaluate the critical vocabulary of Heraclides of Pontus, as we cannot be sure which part of the Homeric Solutions (Λύσεις Ὁμηρικαί in two

 See Ademollo 2011, 306: “In our passage these derogatory terms create some sort of distance between Socrates and the forthcoming mimetic analysis”. Ademollo also highlights the co-occurrence of ’outrageous’ and ’ridiculous’ in both discussed passages (Pl. Crat. 426b5 – 6 and Phdr. 252b1– 5).  On ’laughable’ as ’absurdity’ in Hecataeus, Euripides, Plato and Xenophon, see Yossi and Melista 2017, 957– 1012.  On the connection of laughter and absurdity, though without applying these criteria to literary and textual criticism, see Halliwell 2008, 332– 371.  Blondell 2002, 135– 136, 144; Pinjuh 2014, 166 – 168.

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books), transmitted mainly through Porphyry’s Homeric Questions, is his own writing, and where Porphyry’s paraphrasing commences. ⁷⁸ Heraclides criticises Homer’s treatment of certain episodes and pointed out some ‘inconsistencies’ in the Homeric text, proposing ‘solutions’ of his own. Heraclides calls ’unreasonable’ (ἄλογον) the Homeric omission of any reports to Helen about her brothers Castor and Pollux (Il. 3.336). The Greeks had spent nine years in Troy, and surely Helen should in that time have said something about her brothers (Heraclid. fr. 100 Schütrumpf). If the passage in fact ended here (as Wehrli and Schütrumpf believe), then Heraclides seems to have found the Homeric problem unsolvable or to have counted it as an ‘unreasonable’ error on Homer’s part (ἄλογον ἦν ὄντως τοῦτο). If the passage were extended beyond the end of the fragment, however, a ’solution’ or justification might be found: such news might not necessarily have been brought to Helen, as her only informants were the Trojans.⁷⁹ Elsewhere both ἄλογον and ἄτοπον are used. Heraclides criticises other Homeric interpreters (contemporaries or predecessors) who found it ἄτοπον that the Phaeacians set Odysseus down asleep on the shores of his homeland without waking him (Od. 13.119). In trying to resolve this problem (διαλύειν πειρώμενος) Heraclides says that those interpreters who do not try to guess what the poet said were ’out of place’ (ἀτόπους εἶναι τοὺς ἐξ ὧν εἴρηκεν ὁ ποιητὴς μὴ στοχαζομένους) in regard to the whole manner of the Phaeacians. For they are aware of their fondness for pleasure and their lifestyle as devoted to enjoyment; it was not ’unreasonable’ (οὐδὲν οὖν ἄλογον) that for some reason they would send their guests away quickly, before the visitors could feel at home (Heraclid. fr. 104 Schütrumpf).⁸⁰ A similar use of the evaluative adjective ἄτοπον is found in Zoilus. Zoilus tried to explain inconsistencies or troubling passages, and in so doing also engaged in interpreting Homer. His treatment of the emotions represented in the Homeric characters is particularly noteworthy; he criticised the manner of their depiction, such as Achilles’ tears during his mourning of Patroclus. Zoilus says it was ’out of place’ (ἄτοπον) that Achilles realised this suddenly (νῦν εἰδέναι τὸν ᾿Aχιλλέα). Achilles should have known that the dangers of war were common, and he should not have supposed death to be terrible, such excessive grief being woman-like (τό τε οὕτως ὑπερπενθεῖν γυναικῶδες). Not even a barbarian nurse would have cried in this way; Hecabe does nothing of the sort even when  Frs. 99 – 104 Schütrumpf, see Heath 2009, 255 – 263. On the triviality of Heraclides’ judgments, see Gottschalk 1980, 136.  Heath 2009, 258 – 259 is inclined to extend the fragment.  Cf. Aristotle’s attack against the premise of certain Homeric critics as ’unreasonable’: ἔνιοι ἀλόγως προϋπολαμβάνουσί (Arist. Poet. 25.1461b1).

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she witnesses Hector’s body being dragged around the walls of Troy (cf. Il. 10, 405 – 407; Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 11 = BNJ 71 fr. 11 = Porph. Quaest. Hom. Il. 18, 22 = Schol. A Il. 18, 22 Erbse).⁸¹ Commenting elsewhere on Il. 5, 20 Zoilus said that Homer represented Idaeus too ‘ridiculously’ (λίαν γελοίως πεποίηκεν) leaving the horses and chariot and running, for he would have been better off with the horses (Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 8 = BNJ 71 fr. 8 = Porph. Quaest. Hom. Il. 5.20). Even if we cannot be sure of the exact terminology Zoilus employed in his work, we may find noteworthy his critique (κατηγορεῖ and μέμφεται) and the use of the criterion of ’amusing/ridiculous’ (γελοίως), which he employed to evaluate the poetic representation of character, equivalent to the ’absurd’ (ἄτοπον) criterion that referred to Homeric logic and techniques in the explanations of a number of inconsistencies or troubling passages in Homer.⁸² The cluster of ‘absurdity’ and ‘laughter’ is later adopted by critics to describe Zoilus’ own approach to the text; they may perhaps have incorporated humorous elements from his criticism into their critique. Referring to the verse Il. 22, 210 the scholiast claims that Zoilus laughs at the story (γελᾷ δὲ τὸν μῦθον, Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 15 = BNJ 71 fr. 15 = Schol. bT Il. 22, 210).⁸³ Although we cannot know about the exact use of evaluative terms employed by Zoilus, it is probable that he ridiculed the Homeric description. Laughter is critically produced and reproduced: Zoilus describes Homer’s techniques as ‘ridiculous’, the scholiast describes Zoilus’ act as ‘laughing’. Finally, a certain mise-en-abîme related to laughter should be mentioned. Zoilus criticised the inappropriate laughter of the gods (Od. 8.321– 343), which Plato rejected as ’not acceptable’ (οὐκ ἀποδεκτέον, Pl. Rep. 3.388e-389a). The gods laugh when they first see Ares and Aphrodite caught in Hephaestus’ trap (ἄσβεστος δ’ ἄρ’ ἐνῶρτο γέλως μακάρεσσι θεοῖσι, v. 326), and after the speech of Hermes (ὣς ἔφατ’, ἐν δὲ γέλως ὦρτ’ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν, v. 343), who wishes to be in Ares’ place (Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 18 = BNJ 71 fr. 18 = Schol. T Od. 8.332).⁸⁴ Zoilus censures (ἐπιτιμᾷ) them, saying that it is absurd (ἄτοπον) that the gods laugh licentiously at such matters, and that Hermes prays before his father and other gods when he sees Ares bound up with Aphrodite. The gods in poetry are not philosophers, but they joke (οὐκ εἰσὶ δὲ οἱ ποιητικοὶ

 Fogagnolo 2022, 147– 155. Cf. also ἐν ἀτόπῳ τινὶ τοῦ ᾿Aχιλλέως ἐσομένου (on Il. 9.203, Zoil. FGrHist 71 fr. 4 = BNJ 71 fr. 4 = Plut. Queast. conv. 5, 4, 2, 677e-f), and Fogagnolo 2022, 123 – 124.  See Friedländer 1895, 19 – 20; Fogagnolo 2022, 102– 103 and 116.  Fogagnolo 2022, 168 – 178.  Fogagnolo 2022, 192– 199.

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θεοὶ φιλόσοφοι, ἀλλὰ παίζονται). The critics laugh down Zoilus who laughs down Homer laughing about the laughter of the gods. How then might the readers of Heraclides, Plato and Zoilus have reacted to the vocabulary of laughter used to describe ‘mistaken’ textual decisions? Readers experienced laughter at dramatic festivals and would have had a pre-formed psychological and emotional stance to what the ‘ridiculous’, ‘odd’ and ‘absurd’ actually meant. Gracious playfulness, joy, irony, farce as well as hostile mockery directed against a target jumped from a democratic to a new elite scholarly generic form, still clasping the cluster of bodily and sensory dispositions with which it had been associated. Textual criticism as a field started to develop in the fourth century; the earliest known examples refer to notions such as ’unreasonable’ (ἄλογον) and ’absurd/out of place’ (ἄτοπον). These epithets of absurdity are closely connected with the notion of laughter and the criterion of being ‘amusing/ridiculous’ (γελοῖον).⁸⁵ Finally, a short observation concerning the use of this repetitive evaluative criterion of ’absurdity’ seems worthwhile. When critics such as Heraclides and Zoilus were judged to be foolish or naïve by later scholiasts, or even by contemporary scholars, this does not mean they were in fact so. As nothing survives from the voluminous works by Heraclides and Zoilus on Homeric problems apart from these scanty fragments containing the evaluative parameters of ’laughter’ and ’absurdity’, caution is warranted. We should at least remember that we do not know in what genre, form and register many of their books on Homer and Homeric criticism were written. We must remember that there were many books (at least six books in the case of Heraclides and perhaps nine books in the case of Zoilus) and that they had evaluative vocabulary in common with Plato. This offers an idea of scholarly discourse of the first decades of the fourth century BCE. I appeal here to Kenneth Dover’s argument about our knowledge of Aristophanic fragments and the Aristophanic Frogs. How might we reconstruct the content of the Frogs had Aristophanes’ text not survived, apart from a few scanty fragments?⁸⁶ A complete text of the dialogue Hippias Minor, including the passage where Socrates calls Homeric logic ’absurd/out of place’, survives (Pl. Hp. Mi. 369e5 – 370a). So too the text of the dialogue Phaedrus, including the passage where Phaedrus tells Socrates that the tragic playwrights would ’laugh’ at the ab-

 On the connection of laughter and absurdity, though without applying these criteria to literary and textual criticism, see Halliwell 2008, 332– 371.  See Dover’s much-quoted essay ’Frogments’ (Dover 2000).

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surdity of mere technical issues of tragic structure, discussed above (Pl. Phdr. 268d). What would we know about the plot and structure of Hippias or Phaedrus, about Socrates’ method and arguments, about the manner in which these dialogues were constructed, had only the lines on Homeric thought seeming ’absurd’ or ’laughable’ survived? This chapter’s thesis is that the concept of ’laughter’ engenders close interaction between comedy and scholarly criticism. The aforementioned discussion of tragedy in Antiphanes’ comedy Poiēsis and in Aristotle’s Poetics 9 may serve as a conclusion.⁸⁷ Aristotle argues about the nature of action in comedy and tragedy, claiming that tragedies do not necessarily rely on traditional myths (ὥστ’ οὐ πάντως εἶναι ζητητέον τῶν παραδεδομένων μύθων, περὶ οὓς αἱ τραγῳδίαι εἰσίν, ἀντέχεσθαι); some of them can be delightful. Thus one should not try to adhere entirely to the traditional plots of tragedy and in fact it is ’ridiculous’ to seek to do so (καὶ γὰρ γελοῖον τοῦτο ζητεῖν), (Arist. Poet. 9.1451b14– 27). The comic playwright whose genre and at least one of its aims is precisely to be “amusing/ironic/absurd” (γελοῖον), also uses a similar vocabulary in his critique of tragedy (fr. 189 PCG). What Aristotle designates γελοῖον is exactly what Antiphanes represents in this comic passage; the stories are familiar to the spectators (οἱ λόγοι ὑπὸ τῶν θεατῶν εἰσιν ἐγνωρισμένοι) before anyone utters a word (πρὶν καί τιν’ εἰπεῖν), so that the poet should merely remind them (ὥσθ’ ὑπομνῆσαι μόνον δεῖ τὸν ποιητήν, vv. 2– 5). We cannot judge the grade of ’absurdity’ in Antiphanes’ performance as we do not know who is speaking in this passage, what the context is, and thus how aware the spectators would have been of the ’absurdity’ of this statement. It is however significant enough that the criterion of ’laughter’ bridges two spheres, comedy and scholarly discourse. Laughter as a result of the comic effect emerges from the incongruity and blend of two distinct worlds or two scenarios or two different mental patterns. Various material objects on stage such as costumes, masks and props, body movements and the text pronounced by the actors blend with the theoretical analysis of dramatic plot and structure.⁸⁸ This eclectic blend contributes to the humour, which arises from incompatibilities between two or more worlds, since the actual meeting of these two or more discourses

 See above pp. 111– 114.  On the entanglement of theory and materiality and the phenomenological conception of aesthetics, see Porter 2010 and the review of this book by Halliwell 2012, especially his critique of the dichotomy between the formal and the material. On the verbal and non-verbal forms of comedy and the incongruity theory for Aristophanes, see Jendza 2020b.

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seems impossible, plethoric, a kind of exaggeration.⁸⁹ Laughter requires intellectual and emotional distancing. Distancing and defamiliarisation as necessary qualities of critical analysis thus cross into the immersion-disruptive and self-referential genre of comedy.⁹⁰ In this chapter I have suggested that scholarly criticism is entwined with comedy and have shown the significance of the ’amusing/ridiculous’ (γελοῖον) in scholarly discourse. These are both embodied in the Frogs, where the relation between the comic and the serious (the so-called spoudaiogeloion), discussed above, is played out through the plot and structure of the play. The central figure of the play, the god of comedy Dionysus, symbolises this entwinement through his dramatic identity, evolving from a ridiculous Dionysus in the first half to a serious literary critic of tragedy in the agon.⁹¹ Which takes us back to the corporeal dominance of laughter. “Humour, after all, is closely bound up with a sense of the body”, wrote Virginia Woolf in the essay “On not knowing Greek”.⁹² Various material objects on stage such as costumes, masks and props, body movements and the text pronounced by the actors blend with the theoretical analysis of dramatic plot and structure. The self-referentiality of laughter in comedy with embodied laughter on stage, and self-reflexive discussions about what should be said and done in order to provoke the spectators’ laughter, led eventually to a partial desiccation of laughter. Certain textual and literary critical ideas were embodied and ridiculed on stage, are then disembodied and described as ‘amusing/ridiculous’ (γελοῖον) in scholarly treatises. In determining what was γελοῖον Homeric critics did not however invite any corporeal response. No chuckling, giggling or guffawing here. As a concept in fourth century BCE, theoretical discussions about the others’ arguments, plots, poetic techniques and ways of writing γελοῖον sustained the incompatibility characteristic of comedy. The “painless ugliness” aimed against political opponents was reused to characterise others’ alleged mistakes. γελοῖον was thus transformed into an evaluative term in textual criticism, such as in Aristonicus’ explanations of the Homeric epics: γελοῖον δὲ εἰπεῖν καὶ τὸν ἐν λόχῳ καθυπνωκέναι (Sign. Od. 14.495), εἶτα δὴ καὶ γέλοιον τὸ “ἥτις δὴ τέτληκε”; τίς

 Cf. Fludernik 2015, 158: “The comedy therefore resides in the clash of depicted elements, in the incongruity of the blended worlds”. On incongruity theories, see Billig 2005, 57– 85.  On distancing, breaking of immersion and the disruption of narrative and dramatic ’aesthetic illusion’ in comedy, see Wolf 2004, 344– 345. On the techniques used by comedy for a defamiliarising effect, see also the list of illusion-breaking devices in fiction in Wolf 2004, 347. On defamiliarising effects in comedy, see also Fludernik 2015.  See Segal 1961, Hubbard 1991, 200 – 201, Lada-Richards 1999.  Woolf 1984, 36.

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γὰρ φθονεῖ τῶν μὴ σπουδαίων; (Sign. Od. 19.343), γελοιότατος ἐπὶ ἵππων ὁ στίχος, ὅτι οἶνον ἵπποι οὐ πίνουσι. καὶ ὅτε θυμὸς ἀνώγοι εἰς μέθην γελοῖον (Sign. Il. 8.189). A corporeal phenomenon and an explosion expressed with the body became an appraisive tool. Comic defamiliarisation and distancing served as disruptive devices triggering a dual (theatrical and scholarly) reflection on the part of the audience. As these criteria crossed over and were applied to scholarly analysis, the self-reflective evaluation of laughter jumped from comic stage into theoretical, rhetorical and poetological treatises. ‘Ridicule’ and ‘absurdity’ being embodied, embedded, enacted, extended and affective in Attic comedy metamorphosed into disembodied aesthetic categories in later literary and rhetorical theory. The function of ’ridiculous’ as an aesthetic criterion is closely connected with this shift from embodiment into disembodiment. The notion and meaning of laughter were no longer grounded in any feeling and understanding of actions and objects, but become abstract and functionally detached from sensory-motor modules.

Conclusion Let us draw some conclusions. This book is primarily concerned with two questions: what role did comedy play in shaping and disseminating early scholarly discourses, and how did the concept of laughter and humour in comedy contribute both to the conceptual categories of later scholarship and to comedy itself? Why comedy? I have suggested that comedy as a genre acted as an uplifting trigger and a cheerful mediator of scholarly discourses being an important channel for them. A variety and multiplicity of discourses were brought together and mingled as part of a comic plot. Scholarly discourses were just one aspect of this multiplicity; the discourses of politics, war, justice, science, philosophy, ethics, athletics, and rhetoric also interacted with one other. Distancing devices and the breaking of immersion contributed to comicality, whilst the resulting laughter re-embodied these discourses in a physical reaction that resulted in the production and comprehension of reformulated opinions and concepts. By its nature an immersion-disruptive and self-referential genre, comedy led the recipient to experience various receptive layers mentally and emotionally at the same time: the parodying world and the world parodied, visual imagery and reproduction, and verbal media. Last but not least, comedy created a positive and joyful environment that facilitated the contemplation and perception of the most complex issues.¹ Humour is crucial to the self-referentiality of comedy. The dynamic of attention shifting between the author, the narrator, the character, the actor and the audience is disrupted by the on-going comic defamiliarisation; keeping the recipients outside and ‘not-immersedʼ thus contributes to the experience of the genre of comedy.² In order to overcome this distance and to receive the jokes, the recipients are compelled to evaluate the proposed scholarly associations and connotations and to share in the experience of scholarly discussions. When such discussions pertained to scholarship, the recipients were necessarily involved in the process of literary criticism and were engaging in linguistic analysis. Athenian drama with its “strange otherworldly music”, to use Meineck’s words, with its “shocking narratives, kinaesthetic collective dances and deep

 On Aristophanic performance and positive emotions broadening cognition, see Varakis-Martin 2019.  On the antagonism of laughter and immersion, see Wolf 2004, 337. On humorous modes in Aristophanes, see Silk 2000, 256 – 300. On ‘comic impossibilities’ and the use of humour in comedy, see Ruffell 2011. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-012

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emotionality” can be viewed as an “absorbing, dissociative and moving experience across a multiplicity of sensorimotor and distributed cognitive processes”.³ In other words, understanding the development of theatre in Athens is an essential step towards interpreting the ways in which Athenians engaged with narratives articulated by sensorimotor live action.⁴ Both tragedy and comedy in performance saw actors embodying characters and interacting in mimetic situations before a live audience within a large theatrical space. Scholarly discourses, which constitute the primary subject of this book, can and should be understood as a physical part of this theatrical space. How then did humour contribute to the production and reception of scholarly discourses? Werner Wolf’s representation of illusion-breaking devices in fiction can help us understand the role of distancing devices in comedy.⁵ Comic defamiliarisation devices include speaking names, the determination of the story by an “alien”, the extreme reduction of the storyʼs eventfulness (“too little plot”, such as in Aristophanesʼ Knights). Furthermore, we can comment on the construction of impossible/improbable worlds (such as in Aristophanesʼ Birds), the salient use of the verbal and textual narrative medium (e. g. agrammatical language; overdetermination of discursive meaning), an obtrusive use of symbols and allegories such as wealth and poverty (seen in Aristophanesʼ Plutus). Here too we find the underdetermination of discursive meaning (resulting in for example “gaps in meaning,” indeterminacies, ambiguities, lack of causality and teleology), the improbable or salient use of narrative situation (e. g. in second-person narration or by over-intrusive narrators), perspective, tense and mood, and deviations from probable story worlds in the obvious service of comic effects (e. g. in carnivalesque topsy-turvy worlds). Overtly satiric or parodistic devices of storytelling and all forms of explicit metatextuality (metafiction, metanarration, metalinguistic elements, etc.) round off this list. Such ‘distancing devices’ are tools in the ongoing production of humour. The creation of distance is central to the genre of comedy, whatever discourses it is deliberating upon. Comedy is known to be very serious. What did the concept of laughter and humour contribute to the conceptual categories of later scholarship? Laughter, embodied and eventually sometimes personified on stage with self-referential and self-reflexive discussions of its own nature and possibilities, made its way from ‘symbolic’ thinking to ‘conceptual’ thinking – to use Finley’s epithets – and crystallised into the category ’amusing/ridiculous’ (γελοῖον) in textual

 Meineck 2019, 91.  Rehm 2012; Meineck 2018; Meineck 2019.  Wolf 2004, 347.

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and literary treatises. The strange, absurd, out-of-place and incongruous choice of words, argumentation, logic or reading of a manuscript were labelled ’amusing/ridiculous’ by meticulous commentators. The question of the aesthetic category of the ’amusing/ridiculous’ is thus closely linked to the broader and more important question of the seriousness of comedy. It was not only a physical phenomenon and a farcical device that became an appreciative tool. Old Attic comedy carried and triggered a double reflection on the part of the author and the audience: the ‘funny’ theatrical performance had ‘serious’ political, social and ethical connotations. To the extent that these criteria were incorporated into scholarly analysis, the self-reflexive evaluation of laughter leapt from the comic stage into theoretical, rhetorical and poetological treatises. For the embodiment of scholarly discourse(s) in comedy, two parameters are crucial: the theatricality and performative materiality of the genre of comedy, and the ’material imagery’ of the narrative. The performative materiality is essential for the reception of the staged discourses, the meanings and critical responses in the audience that were produced and conveyed through visual and audial performance. Drama enacts learning “through and from our bodies”, establishing the sensoric contact between the living bodies on stage and the living bodies of the spectators.⁶ This is perhaps the main difference with the somatic materiality of archaic epic and lyric poetics: as performative as the archaic genres were, the theatricalisation of Attic drama made the abstract learned discourses come alive on stage as never before by playing them with the actors’ bodies, movements, and voices. Further material requisites – stage properties, masks and costumes – to a great extent contributed to the compelling emotional experience of dramatic performance. In comedy the costume was as important as the mask in its power to transform the actor into a different persona, which may suggest that the comic characters’ bodies were as significant as their faces in creating meaning.⁷ The objects on stage (as well as the objects referred to) were multimodal enactive signs within the total experience of drama, and so was the environment within which it participated. They enabled, enacted, embodied and extended mimesis and helped change the way in which people experienced the performance of narrative. Stage requisites were not pieces of inert matter that spectators and performers acted upon, but something active with which they engaged

 Rokotnitz 2011, 3.  Varakis 2010, 17; Meineck 2019. On masks in Old Comedy, see also Wiles 2008.

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and interacted.⁸ Just as the body acting within the environment constitutes a functioning part of human cognition, so the costumes and the masks constitute an integral part of the body presented to the recipient. We do not have to make distinctions as to whether the requisites serve a distinct semiotic purpose communicating meanings that are deciphered by the spectator, or whether they are a part of the physical body of the performance inhabited by actors. Instead, material objects on stage have an ability to be at the same time both mental and physical.⁹ The relationship between the costume, the character and the actor was a conceptual blend that made watching the requisites in performance compelling. How are scholarly discourses embodied? The act of writing is vividly enacted on stage, as seen above, through carving with effort the shape of the letter ’rho’ and commenting emotionally on it. The letters of the alphabet are danced by the chorus, the cognitive and communicative power of gestures and body expression providing emotional context. A barking pickle brine from Thasos is perhaps an olfactory somatosensory visual and auditory embodiment of Archilochean poetry, whilst the actor’s foot in dance is a visual and motor embodiment of a metrical foot on stage. Comedy with its actors, costumes, masks, and props is overflowing with such examples. Aristotle claimed that the art of the maker of stage properties, masks and costumes (ἡ τοῦ σκευοποιοῦ τέχνη) had more scope (κυριωτέρα) than the poet’s art for rendering the effects of spectacle (περὶ τὴν ἀπεργασίαν τῶν ὄψεων, Arist. Poet. 6.1450b18 – 20). He also claimed that tragedy had no small part for music and spectacle (οὐ μικρὸν μέρος τὴν μουσικήν καὶ τὰς ὄψεις), which engender the most vividly aroused recipients’ enjoyment (δι’ ἧς αἱ ἡδοναὶ συνίστανται ἐναργέστατα, Arist. Poet. 26.1462a15 – 16). Compare at the same time Aristotle’s criticism of spectacle, of relying on stage properties, masks, costumes, and the appearance of the actors, rather than on plot to produce the effect of fear and pity (τὸ φοβερὸν καὶ ἐλεεινὸν ἐκ τῆς ὄψεως γίγνεσθαι, Arist. Poet. 14.1453b1– 11) on tragedy’s capacity to produce the effect “without movement” (ἡ τραγῳδία καὶ ἄνευ κινήσεως ποιεῖ τὸ αὑτῆς, Arist. Poet. 26.1462a12). Imagery is taken from the material realms of symbolic archaic poetry and incorporated back into the performance. As has been discussed above, stylistic evaluations such as word-balls striking in a battle, angular words being wrenched out of stones, light and heavy words being weighed on a scale, solemn words built in high towers, compressed, and chiselled words, bent, turned out and melted words, serve as criteria of good or bad poetry and good or bad rhet-

 Meineck 2019, 89; Malafouris 2013, 67– 69.  Malafouris 2013, 80.

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oric. Grammatical gender differentiations were played out through environmental agricultural imagery. Comedy represented a broad variety of self-referential dramatic and dramaturgic terminology. The chorus of tragedy are hair-plucking women, who pluck their limbs, comedic verses are liquid and poured, tragedy is a woman sometimes pissed upon and sometimes penetrated by the playwrights, poetry is a woman mistreated by dithyrambic poets. Cratinus is married to comedy, and Aristophanes’ comic production (being female) does not want to have sex with all those playwrights who might want to do so. Tragedy is a sacrificial lamb brought to the scale. The principles of plot and structure are enacted by a character in Antiphanes’ comedy titled Poetry. All these abstract scholarly concepts are simultaneously corporeal and material. Homeric textual criticism is enacted by Strato’s cook who has been physically filled to the full with Homeric expressions from his childhood so that he tastes Homeric glosses, which remain unclear to (and untasted by) the cook’s interlocutor. The interlocutor needs the books of Philitas to look up what each of the phrases means. Similarly in Aristophanes a father asks his son to directly interpret Homeric glosses, and Cratinus ridiculed Homeric repetitive use of formulas on stage. In Aristophanes’ Frogs two tragic playwrights search for errors in their textual analysis of tragedy in the multisensory environment of the festival of Dionysus. Metre and rhythm studies were experienced on stage as well. A martial rhythm is accompanied by the flute in Epicharmus, and, in Aristophanes, Socrates knows “which rhythm goes according to the in-armour” (in other words dancing with weapons), “and which according to dactyl”. His interlocutor holds up his middle finger pointing to the dactyl. The chorus rhythmically stamps out anapaestic verses with its whole body, and self-referentially comments upon this act, invoking the attention of the audience. Comic playwrights’ commentary on the structure and impact of metre and rhythm thus contributed to the construction of early scholarly discourse. The divergence of language and dialect spoken and heard on the comic stage served as a linguistic laboratory. The deviations from Attic such as Megarian, Boeotian, Ionian and Laconian as well as barbarian accents such as Persian were pronounced by Aristophanes’, Strattis’, Eupolis’ and Plato’s characters, and perceived by the recipients in the theatre. Phonological, morphological and lexical differences are commented upon and enacted in theatrical space. The characteristics of speech as a social register are reflected and interpreted during the comic performance. In this book, I have suggested that comedy made a significant contribution to the establishment of such scholarly discourses in Classical Greece. Importantly, “lists of (quasi)technical terms” provided in the seminal studies on Aristo-

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phanic comedy by John Dewar Denniston and Andreas Willi are not sufficient for a full understanding of this relationship.¹⁰ These are not sufficient precisely because this book does not simply discuss the words used by comic playwrights, some of which were to become technical terms in later scholarship. Here I have discussed images and abstract concepts as enacted, live events either drawn from archaic poetics and current sophistic discussions and placed on the dramatic stage or generated in the very moment of dramatic performance. These images and concepts belonging to entities under a broader label of ‘discourse’ should be seen as an on-going process of exploration of the environment in the service of embodied interactions with it. The performance of comedy comprised experiences that enhanced the emotional sphere: the amusing, the funny, the ridiculous, the ugly, the awkward, the earnest. It also comprised cognitive double-entendre and criticism. Developing pre-Hellenistic scholarly discourses, which were embedded in these dramatic experiences, were thus engaged in a complex system of relationships with other genres and media responding to them. Scholarly notions and scholarly vocabulary and their crossovers on both a synchronic and diachronic level were enacted and became accessible on sensorimotor, emotional, and spatial levels. This process introduced certain complex and abstract ideas to the recipients and contributed to the extension and expansion of the dynamics which lead to what would later be thought of as scholarship in a narrower Alexandrian sense, such as studies in grammar, style, narratological structure and the editing of Classical texts. The reasons for this shift belong to another study. So too does the process of ‘disembodiment’ that increasingly characterised, and continues to characterise, scholarship: the shift from the Athenian stage where the smelly and thickly tragic or Homeric verses were accessible to the spectator, to the rolls in the Alexandrian and Pergamene libraries which were only accessible to erudite scholars and stooped scribes. The process of ’disembodiment’ is of special importance for laughter itself. Comic defamiliarisation and distancing and immersion-disruptive devices would have triggered the authors’ and audience’s reflection on the criteria of ’amusing/ ridiculous’ (γελοῖον) and ’absurd’ (ἄτοπον). These criteria are applied to scholarly issues, and the self-reflective evaluation of laughter gradually moved from the comic stage into theoretical, rhetorical and poetological treatises. ’Amusement’ and ’absurdity’ thus made their way to becoming disembodied aesthetic categories in later Hellenistic literary and rhetorical theory.

 Denniston 1927 and Willi 2003, 51– 95. See also the structure of the standard work by Taillardat 1965.

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What is the effect of bringing scholarly discourses on comic stage? In a triumph of eclecticism, the clashing and blending of multiple mental spaces, triggered by the collision of intellectual discourses in comic performance, produced new interpretational patterns that exceed those that would arise from the comparison and contrast of these, to our mind, incompatible worlds.¹¹ Scholarly discourses were retranslated, reflected, rearranged, and embodied onstage, engendering new patterns for the investigation of scholarly discourses. From these interactions, novel mental patterns, qualities, and effects emerged. Purpose, message, and ideology, transmitted by embodied scholarly discourses in ‘humorous’ and ‘serious’ comic performances, blended with the ideology transmitted by Heraclitus’ or Protagoras’ teaching. Old meanings found their reflection and new meanings were forged. πολλὰ μὲν γελοῖά μ’ εἰπεῖν, πολλὰ δὲ σπουδαῖα.

 The construct of ‘mental spaces’ in the sense of an idealised cognitive model opposed to a truthful representation of reality was proposed by Gilles Fauconnier (Fauconnier 1985). On the function of ’blending’ in comics (in the current sense of the term) in particular, see Fludernik 2015. On the concept of ’blending’ generally, see Fauconnier and Turner 2002 and Schneider 2012.

Abbreviations AS

Artium scriptores: Reste der voraristotelischen Rhetorik, hrsg. von L. Radermacher, Wien: Rohrer, 1951. BNJ Brill’s New Jacoby, ed. by Ian Worthington. Brill (2007 - now). CGF Comicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, ed. G. Kaibel. Vol. I, pars 1. Berlin 1899. DK Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, hrsg. von W. Diels und W. Kranz. 3 Bände. Zürich 2005 (unveränderter Nachdruck der 6. Auflage 1952). FGrHist Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker von F. Jacoby. Berlin, 1923 – now. FHSG Fortenbaugh, W. W., P. Huby, R. W. Sharples and D. Gutas (eds). 1992. Theophrastus of Eresus. Sources for his Life, Writings, Thought and Influence. 2 vols. Leiden, Brill. IEG M. L. West, Iambi et Elegi Graeci ante Alexandrum cantati, voll. I – II, Oxford 2 1992. IG I³ Inscriptiones Graecae I: Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno anteriores. 3rd edn. Berlin 1981, 1994. Fasc. 1, ed. D. Lewis, Decreta et tabulae magistratuum; fasc. 2, ed. D. Lewis and L. Jeffery, Dedicationes. Catalogi. Termini. Tituli sepulcrales. Varia. Tituli Attici extra Atticam reperti. Addenda. Kühner-Gerth R. Kühner und B. Gerth, Ausführliche Grammatik der griechischen Sprache, 3. Auflage. Hanover und Leipzig, Hahn. 1898. Laks-Most Early Greek Philosophy, ed. and transl. by A. Laks and G. W. Most. 9 vols. LOEB, Cambridge, Mass., London, England. 2016. LSJ H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, H. S. Jones, and R. McKenzie (eds.), A Greek–English Lexicon, 9th ed. Oxford University Press, 2007. PCG Poetae Comici Graeci, ed. by R. Kassel and C. Austin, vol. 1 – 8. Berlin – New York, 1983 – now. PMG Poetae Melici Graeci, ed. D. L. Page. Oxford 1962. PMGF M. Davies, Poetarum melicorum Graecorum fragmenta. Vol. 1. Oxford, 1991. SH H. Lloyd-Jones and P. Parsons, Supplementum Hellenisticum, Berlin: De Gruyter, 1983. TrGF Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, ed. by B. Snell, S. Radt and R. Kannicht, vol. 1 – 5. Göttingen, 1971 – 2004.

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General Index absurd 4, 139, 182, 201, 209, 211 – 213, 218 Aeschylus 14, 15, 20, 24, 50, 52, 53, 54, 65, 68, 76, 81, 83, 86, 89, 91, 93, 98, 103, 110, 114, 120, 131, 137, 142, 152, 193, 195 Agathon 15, 73, 84, 101, 107, 113 agon 5, 68, 82, 87, 90, 151, 195, 214 Alcidamas 63, 73, 194 Alcman 116, 120, 193 Alexis 23, 79, 85 Allegory 3, 142, 156, 157, 161, 164, 165, 202, 217 alphabet 68, 71 – 75, 199, 219 Ameipsias 79, 110, 117 amusing 5, 188, 201 – 206, 211 – 214, 217, 221 Antimachus 3, 175 – 177 Antiphanes 74, 79, 111 – 115, 117, 213 Antisthenes 49 – 50, 144, 173 – 175, 180 Archilochus 87 – 90, 116, 117, 128, 159, 167, 191 Archinus 71 – 72 archives 11, 21 – 22, 24 Aristarchus 149, 166, 176 – 178 Aristonicus of Alexandria 178, 214 – 215 Aristoxenus of Tarentum 114 – 115, 131 Aristoxenus of Selinus 119 – 120, 128 Athenaeus 36 – 37, 72, 87, 120

Damon of Athens 124 – 125, 131 dance 34, 73, 114, 120, 122, 126, 131, 133 f., 216, 219 Democritus 155 – 162 dialect 34, 135, 137, 139 – 142, 144 – 146, 171, 220 Diogenes of Apollonia 62, 161 Douris 19

Bacchylides 84, 117, 193 beauty 155, 157, 182 book-selling 13 – 14, 101

Ford, Andrew

Callias 72, 91, 111 Chamaeleon of Heraclea Pontica 114 Charondas of Catana 17 Chionides 140 correctness of speech 56 – 63, s. also orthoepeia in Index vocabulorum graecorum costume 1, 8, 54, 72, 98, 122, 208, 213, 218 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-015

4E-cognition 3 embodiment 1 – 3, 28 – 30, 32, 71, 94, 107, 122, 124, 132, 146, 203, 215, 218 emendation 8, 27, 57, 168 – 170, 175 – 177, 199 emotion 3, 13, 30, 31, 34, 35, 55, 73, 95, 98, 116, 123, 124, 134, 156, 159, 160, 188, 189, 190, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 210, 212, 214, 216, 217, 218, 219, 221 etymology 37, 45, 51, 54, 101, 161, 167 Euclides 71 Euripides 14, 16, 19 – 20, 22, 24, 38, 48, 52 – 54, 73, 80, 81, 82, 83, 89, 91 – 92, 97, 98 – 99, 101, 105, 106, 107, 109 – 110, 111, 119, 121, 129, 131, 174 – 175, 195 experience 2, 8, 15, 28 – 32, 34, 52 – 54, 72, 76, 87, 90, 93, 122, 135, 193, 203, 206, 208, 216 – 218, 221 2, 6, 7 – 8

Galen 62 gender 5, 27, 34, 55, 57, 60, 63, 69 – 71, 77, 79, 220 genre 2 – 7, 11, 27, 29, 33 – 35, 38, 51, 54, 61, 72, 76, 83, 87 – 90, 92, 95 – 99, 103 – 111, 114 – 122, 126, 128, 132, 146, 150, 154, 159, 167, 188 – 190, 201, 205, 212 – 214, 216 – 218, 221 gloss 56, 68, 86, 148, 152, 175, 186, 220 Gorgias 16, 44, 47 – 49, 66 – 67, 132 – 133, 145, 207 – 208

General Index

Hecataeus 3, 120, 154, 207, 209 Heraclides of Pontus 114, 181 – 183, 209 – 210 Heraclitus 39 – 43, 88 – 89 Hippias of Elis 40, 68, 133, 166 – 167, 179 – 180 Hippias of Thasus 168 – 170 Homer 16, 22, 35, 39, 56, 63, 66, 78, 87 – 91, 93, 115, 121, 129, 132, 139, 148, 151 – 155, 157 – 162, 164, 166, 169, 173, 175, 180 – 186, 191, 194, 197, 204, 209 – 212 humour 5, 14, 47, 70, 96, 189, 202, 205, 213, 216 inquiry 191 – 196 institutions 3, 8, 17 – 24, 101, 181 intermediality 1, 3, 34, 95, 122, 196 Lasus of Hermione 91, 117 – 118 laughter 5, 25, 35, 107, 141, 188 – 190, 201 – 209, 211 – 218, 221 letters 1, 15, 17 – 19, 55, 68, 71 – 76, 129, 133, 155, 167, 171, 196, 199, 208, 219 libraries 8, 21 – 24, 221 Licymnius 34, 55, 66, 69, 77 linguistic variety 137, 138, 140, 141, 143, 145 literacy 10, 13 – 17, 72 Lysippus 202 Magnes 138, 140 mask 1, 8, 30, 54, 72, 80, 106, 122, 203, 206, 208, 213, 218 materiality 1, 8, 48, 52, 78, 94, 186, 213, 218 mathematics 25, 162 meaning 8, 11, 23, 26, 33, 36 – 54, 58, 61, 65, 68, 80, 84, 87, 92 – 94, 96, 98, 101, 104, 106, 109, 111, 115, 120, 126 – 128, 130 – 132, 135 – 137, 142, 144, 150, 152, 161, 163, 165, 173, 176, 180, 185, 191, 199, 201, 215, 217 – 219, 222 medicine 11, 22, 25, 29, 34, 58, 93, 128, 193

263

metaphor 5, 27 – 29, 31 – 34, 39, 42, 52 – 54, 61, 66, 78 – 94, 100, 102, 109, 113, 117, 132, 143, 152, 158, 194, 201 metonymy 27, 81, 88, 92, 121, 130, 162 metre 5, 27, 33, 119, 123 – 134, 201, 220 Metrodorus of Lampsacus 164 – 166, 173 music 15, 17, 19, 30, 68, 116 – 120, 122 – 128, 133, 155, 171, 181, 183, 188, 206, 216, 219 naming 9, 33, 36 – 45, 55, 112 nature 5, 9, 12, 26, 34, 36, 39, 42, 44 – 47, 51, 54, 58, 61, 85, 90, 95, 120, 132, 135, 157, 159, 162, 189 – 191, 204, 206, 213, 216 Palaephatus 207 Palamedes 73, 145, 193 Parmenides 43 – 45, 192, 197 Peisistratus 21, 164, 176 performance 7, 14, 23, 30, 33, 52, 55, 72, 88, 95 – 98, 101, 104, 107, 111, 115, 118 – 120, 123, 126, 132 – 134, 137, 152, 155, 163, 181, 186, 191, 201, 206, 213, 216 – 222 Pfeiffer, Rudolph 2, 6 – 7, 56, 63, 71, 125, 149, 153, 175 Philitas of Cos 149 – 151 Philolaus of Croton/Tarentum 22, 133 Phrynichus tragicus 16, 100 Porter, James 2, 6, 8, 52, 78, 91, 117, 213 Prodicus 59 – 61, 62, 63, 66 – 69, 194, 197 Protagoras 56 – 61, 63 – 66, 80, 113, 127, 195 reading 13 – 17, 20, 23 – 24 register 144, 148, 197, 212, 220 rhythm 5, 33, 68, 81, 118 – 120, 123 – 126, 131 – 134, 155, 172, 220 ridiculous 35, 183, 188, 201 – 203, 206 – 209, 211, 214, 221 schools 8, 17 – 24, 67 scribe 14, 26, 101, 172, 175, 200, 221 semantics 9, 33, 36 – 54, 58 – 60 seriousness 25, 35, 189, 204, 207, 218 Sextus Empiricus 48 – 49

264

General Index

Shakespeare 27 Socrates 36, 40, 55, 60, 66, 69 – 71, 78, 83, 89, 91, 97, 102, 124, 127, 157 – 159, 171, 173, 178 – 180, 192, 194, 197 – 200, 208, 212, 220 Sophocles 15, 73, 106, 110, 114, 174 – 175 Stesimbrotus 4, 42, 168, 170 – 173 style 15, 33, 38, 54, 64, 67, 78 – 94, 97, 105, 119 – 121, 137, 139, 144, 153, 167, 194, 196, 201, 221 syllable 1, 37, 42, 68, 73, 127, 130, 133, 167, 171, 196, 199, 208 techical language 24 – 29 textual criticism 9, 12, 24, 27, 35, 52, 56, 107, 146, 148 – 187, 188, 191, 196 f., 199, 201, 209, 212, 214, 220

Theagenes of Rhegium 46, 56, 163 Theognis 191 Theophrastus 56, 114, 196, 223 Thucydides 46 – 47, 139, 195 tragedy 4, 11 – 15, 20, 23, 30, 83, 89, 91, 96 – 115, 121, 129, 140, 159, 174, 180, 189, 195, 204, 208, 213, 217, 219 tripod 36, 43, 51, 54, 129 Ulpian of Tyre

36 – 37

writing 5, 10, 12, 13 – 17, 19, 22, 26 – 27, 71 – 74, 159 Zoilus of Amphipolis 212

183 – 185, 197, 210 –

Index vocabulorum Graecorum ἀβασανίστως 195 ἀδελφά 67 ἀκρίβεια 194 – 195 ἄκριτος 192 ἄλογον 182, 209 – 212 ἁμαρτάνειν 64, 195 ἁμαρτία 64, 195 ἀμφίβολόν 166 ἀνάπαιστος 27, 130, 133 ἀοιδή 20, 115 – 116 ἀπόκρισις 27, 63 ἀπόρημα 191 ἁρμονία 67, 125, 126, 167 – 168, 171 ἄρρενα 27, 55, 61, 64, 70 ἄτοπον 182, 207, 209 – 212, 221 ἀττικίζειν 135 – 136, 138, 140 βαρβαρίζειν 137 βαρύς 116, 128, 171 – 172 βασανιεῖν 102, 110, 195 βιβλιοθήκη 23 βί/ύβλος/βι/υβλίον 13 – 14, 20, 21 – 22, 23, 26, 155 βωμολοχία 205, 206 γελοῖον 35, 106 – 107, 188, 190, 201 – 215, 217 – 218, 221, 222 γέλως 35, 201 – 202, 203, 205, 207 – 208, 211 γλῶττα 67, 71, 145, 152 – 153 γράμματα 16 – 17, 18, 73 – 76, 129, 167 – 172, 200 γραφή 20, 168 – 169 δάκτυλος 27, 124 – 125, 133 διαίρεσις 60, 67, 69, 172 διάλεκτος 143 – 144 διαλλάσσειν 167 – 168 διάνοια 50, 53, 65 – 66, 198 διαστίζειν 27 δίζησθαι 192 δίζησις 192 διθύραμβος 27, 117 – 118 διορθοῦν 27, 168 – 169, 175 δρᾶμα 27, 95, 96, 100 – 103, 108, 110, 111 δύναμις 65, 75, 76, 199 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-016

δύσκριτος 192, 197, 209 εἰρωνεία 208, 217 ἐλεγεῖον 89, 107, 118 – 119, 127 ἑλληνίζειν 136 – 137, 139 ἑλληνισμός 46, 56 ἐμποιεῖν 27 ἐνθουσιασμός 158 – 160 ἐνόπλιος 27, 123 – 126, 133 ἐντολή 27, 63 ἐξαιρεῖν 171, 196, 200 ἑξάμετρον 127, 128 – 129, 132, 133 ἐξετάζειν 191 ἐξηγεῖσθαι 196, 198 ἐπίθετα 67 – 68 ἐπίταξις 63 – 64 ἐρώτησις 27, 63 εὔσχημον 126 εὐχωλή 27, 63 ζήτημα/ ζητεῖν 58, 102 – 103, 109, 191 – 192, 198, 204, 213 θέατρον 99 – 100, 101, 102, 130 θέσις 75, 199 θήλεα 27, 64 θρῆνος 116, 118 ἰαμβεῖον 120, 127 ἰάμβος 27, 89, 119, 128 ἰσόρροπος 52 – 53ἵστωρ 192 – 193 ἰσχνός 82 – 83 καιρός 126 καταστροφή 112, 113 κόσμος 157 – 158, 162 κρίνειν 192, 197, 205, 206 κρίσις 192 κύρια 67, 152 – 153 κυριολεξία 67 – 68 κωμῳδία 95 – 111, 114, 201, 204 κωμῳδός 96 – 97 λεπτός 82 – 83, 85 λόγος 15, 16, 39, 41, 49, 58, 59, 62, 63, 65, 67, 68, 80, 81, 85, 86, 90, 91, 92, 96, 105 – 106, 112, 113, 114, 116, 118,

266

Index vocabulorum Graecorum

119, 126, 128, 132 – 133, 145, 167, 172, 174, 194, 199, 207, 213 λύσις 113, 162, 181, 191 (δια)λύειν 168, 169, 182, 210 μεγαλοπρεπές 82, 83, 200 μέλος 84, 116, 126, 159, 193 μέροϲ λόγου 62 μετάβασις 113 μεταβολή 92, 113, 121, 171 μετάθεσις/ μετατίθεσθαι 51, 118, 196, 200 μέτρον 78, 121, 124, 125, 126 – 134, μορμολυκεῖον 106 μουσικῆ 17, 18, 20, 52, 78, 84, 108, 118, 120, 133, 219 ὁμωνυμία 51 ὄνομα 36, 38 – 45, 50, 51, 53, 59, 61, 65, 66, 67, 113, 167, 172, 196, 198, 199, 200 ὀξύς/ ὀξύτης 128, 169, 171, 172 ὀρθοέπεια 46, 56, 57 – 60, 61 – 63, 67 – 68, 155 ὀρθότης τῶν ὀνομάτων 40, 46, 56, 58, 59 – 63, 68, 196, 197, 198 ὀρθός 57 – 59, 61 – 63, 64, 70, 112, 126, 200 παραγραφή 27, 172 παράσημον 27, 172 περιπέτεια 113 πίναξ πτυκτός 26 ποίημα 98, 112, 168 ποίησις 69, 92, 98, 132, 158, 183, 194 πολύσημος 51 ποῦς 36, 37, 109, 125, 131 – 132 πρέπον 46, 82, 83, 126, 156, 200 πρόβλημα 191 προστίθεσθαι/προστικτέον 27, 156, 160, 196, 200

προσῳδία 27, 168, 169, 172 πυθμένες λόγων 63 ῥῆμα 50, 53, 66, 82, 86, 91, 109, 126, 149, 150, 151, 155 ῥυθμός 67, 68, 80, 118, 124 – 126, 133, 155, 172 σανίδες 26 σαφήνεια 68, 82, 83, 84, 124 – 125, 148 σεμνός 86, 90 – 93, 96, 105, 112, 125 σημαίνειν 43, 45, 49, 50, 66, 75, 76, 165, 166, 172, 173, 198, 200 σκεύη 27, 64 σολοικίζειν 64, 195, 196 στοιχεῖον 74, 129 – 130, 172, 200 στόμα 75, 81, 83, 84, 144, 179 στρογγύλος 79 – 86, 93 συλλαβή 68, 76, 130, 133, 171, 208 σύνθετα 67, 124 σχῆμα 74 – 76, 126, 136, 205 τάξις 75, 199 τεκμήριον 20, 186, 195 τετράμετρον 124, 127, 133 τόνος 128, 172 τραγῳδία 81, 92, 95 – 111, 111 – 115, 121, 174, 204, 213, 219 τραγῳδός 90, 96 – 98, 104, 105 – 107 τρίμετρος 89, 124, 127 – 128, 133 τροχαῖον 125 τρυγῳδία 96, 99 – 100, 102, 104, 105, 108, 111 φωνή 52, 67, 71, 72, 75, 76, 118, 128, 129 – 130, 132, 135, 136, 137, 142, 143, 145, 146, 172, 184, 200 χορός 15, 20, 72, 84, 97 – 102, 105 – 109, 114, 115, 120, 201 – 202 ψογερός 89, 116, 128 ψυχρός 75, 93, 205

Index locorum Achaeus – Omphale – fr. 33 TrGF

Anaxagoras – DK59 B19

Antimachus of Colophon – fr. 168 Matthews 176 – 177 – fr. 169 Matthews 177 – fr. 170 Matthews 177 – fr. 171 Matthews 177 – fr. 173 Matthews 177 – fr. 174 Matthews 177 – fr. 175 Matthews 177 – fr. 176 Matthews 177 – fr. 177 Matthews 177 – fr. 178 Matthews 177

Aelian – Varia Historia – 7.15 18 Aeschines – Against Ctesiphon 135 16 – 17 – Against Timarchus 11 18 Aeschylus – Agamemnon – 1050 – 1052 137 – Choēphori – 560 – 564 142 – Septem – 169 – 170 142 – Isthmiastae ē Theōroi – fr. 81 TrGF 120 – fr. 450(?) TrGF 137 [Aeschylus] – Prometheus Vinctus 460 – 461 73, 76, 193 Agathon – Tēlephos – fr. 4 TrGF Alcman – fr. 39 PMGF – fr. 40 PMGF

Antiphon – DK87 B44 Antiphanes – Lēmniae – fr. 142 PCG – Poiēsis – fr. 189 PCG 15 – 16,

58

201 – 202 95, 111 – 114, 213, 220

Antisthenes – fr. 187 Giannantoni – fr. 191 Giannantoni – fr. 192 Giannantoni – fr. 196 Giannantoni

173 – 174, 180 173 173 174 – 175

73 Anonym. – Laus Pisonis – 93 – 96 86 – adesp. fr. com. 225 PCG

116, 193 193

Alexander of Aphrodisias – Comm. in Arist. Top. 104b19 Alexis – Linos – fr. 140 PCG – Tarantinoi – fr. 223 PCG

45

73

49 – 50

23 67, 85

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783111081540-017

Archilochus – fr. 120 IEG – fr. 121 IEG

201

159 117

Archinus – see Syrian. Comm. Arist. Met. 191.29 – 35

268

Index locorum

Aristomenes – Goētes – fr. 9 PCG Aristonicus – De signis – 8.189 – De signis – 14.495 – 19.343

13 – 14

of Alexandria Iliadis 215 Odysseae 214 214 – 215

Aristophanes – Acharnians – 9 – 11 98 – 100 – 107 139 – 138 – 140 93 – 378 98 – 399 – 400 98 – 99, 108 – 412 98 – 414 – 415 101 – 470 101 – 498 – 500 99, 108 – 627 130 – 628 – 632 99 – 100 – 655 100 – 685 – 688 79 – 80, 93 – 729 – 835 96, 140 – 860 – 954 140 – 886 100 – Knights – 188 – 193 15 – 216 151 – 521 67 – 401 101 – 504 130, 131 – 507 – 517 103, 110, 112 – 523 – 524 138 – 539 81 – 987 – 996 19 – 989 137 – 1235 – 1242 15 – Clouds – 97 38 – 227 – 228 61 – 250 – 251 61 – 296 102 – 333 84

– 394 61 – 521 102 – 523 102 – 534 – 536 102 – 103 – 539 201, 202 – 627 – 692 – 636 – 655 – 641 – 642 127 – 128 – 650 – 651 126 – 658 – 659 55, 61 – 660 – 661 70 – 662 – 666 70 – 670 – 672 70 – 679 61 – 680 – 699 70 – 687 70 – 693 – 734 – 735 – 790 – 889 – 949 19, 66 – 961 – 983 19, 84 – 1002 – 1023 19 – 1035 201 – 1089 102 – 1091 102 – 1093 102 – 1107 – 1110 83 – 84 – 1126 – 1127 80 – 1367 50 – Wasps – 57 201 – 66 104 – 650 – 651 104 – 1020 104 – 1026 104 – 1047 104 – 1260 – 1261 201 – 1318 104 – 1410 118 – 1479 – 1481 104 – 1497 – 1511 104 – 105 – 1535 – 1537 105 – Peace – 45 – 48 140 – 135 – 136 105 – 147 – 148 105 – 106 – 530 – 531 105 – 734 – 738 106, 130

Index locorum

– 750 66 – 751 105 – 803 – 808 105 – 1096 186 – Birds – 100 – 101 106 – 512 106 – 575 186 – 682 – 684 130 – 690 – 692 62 – 732 201 – 202 – 789 106 – 958 – 991 13, 15 – 1000 – 1001 38 – 1021 – 1034 13, 15 – 1035 – 1055 13 – 14, 15 – 1187 80 – 1245 106 – 1288 – 1289 13 – 1445 106 – 1615 – 1616 139 – 1628 – 1629 139 – 1678 – 1681 139 – Lysistrata – 1242 – 1315 140 – Thesmophoriazusae – 30 107 – 52 – 57 84 – 85, 101 – 85 107 – 88 107 – 149 101 – 151 101 – 157 108 – 166 101 – 170 93 – 391 107 – 417 106 – 450 – 451 107 – 770 – 784 74 – 848 93 – 849 101 – 922 138 – 941 – 942 201 – 1001 – 1007 139 – Frogs – 1 – 6 202 – 12 – 15 110

– 45 201 – 52 – 53 14 – 89 – 100 109 – 110 – 178 91 – 368 110 – 391 – 392 202 – 492 50 – 660 – 661 120 – 703 91 – 769 98, 110 – 797 52 – 798 110 – 802 110 – 814 50 – 824 81 – 833 – 834 110 – 836 – 839 81 – 860 – 864 110 – 900 – 906 82 – 911 – 913 110 – 920 110 – 923 82, 110 – 923 – 926 82 – 927 82 – 935 – 937 110 – 939 – 942 82 – 943 14 – 946 – 947 110 – 956 – 958 82 – 83 – 966 84 – 971 – 972 119 – 1004 91 – 1020 92 – 1021 110 – 1030 – 1036 129 – 1056 – 1059 53 – 54, 65 – 66 – 1061 91 – 1109 – 1118 14 – 1119 – 1197 110 – 1122 82 – 1131 – 1148 195 – 1133 120 – 1154 – 1157 68 – 1174 68 – 1180 – 1181 68 – 1204 120 – 1323 – 1324 131 – 132

269

270

Index locorum

– 1328 107 – 1378 – 1411 52 – 1407 – 1409 14 – 1434 82 – 1491 – 1499 91, 98, 110 – Ecclesiazousai – 1156 206 – Plutos – 424 98 – Amphiaraus – fr. 31 PCG 106 – Babylōnioi – fr. 71 PCG 72 – 73 – fr. 81 PCG 137 – fr. 97 PCG 137 – Gēras – fr. 130 PCG 106 – Gērytades – fr. 156 PCG 108 – 109 – Daitalēs – fr. 233 PCG 35, 146, 151 – 152, 197 – 198 – Danaides – fr. 265 PCG 194 – Hēroes – fr. 323 PCG 174 – Thesmophoriazusae II – fr. 342 PCG 38 – fr. 347 PCG 107 – 108 – fr. 376 PCG 81 – Holkades – fr. 426 PCG 87 – 88 – Skēnas katalambanousai – fr. 488 PCG 80 – Tagēnistai – fr. 506 PCG 13, 14 – Incerta – fr. 545 PCG 36, 37 – fr. 639 PCG 203 – fr. 647 PCG 124 – fr. 706 PCG 143 – 144

– Eudemian Ethics – 1234a 205 – Topics – 142b31 17 – 146b6 17 – Rhetoric – 1371b 205 – 206 – 1404b 67, 92, 152 – 153 – 1406a 67, 82 – 1406b 152 – 153 – 1407a-b 64, 139 – 1408b 92, 124 – 125 – 1409a 172 – 1413b 194 – 195 – 1414b 66 – 67 – 1419b 204, 206, 208 – 1458a 64 – 65, 82, 92 – Sophistical Refutations – 166b 168, 169 – 173b 64, 71, 195 – 196 – 177b-178a 170, 172 – Poetics – 1447b 107, 132 – 133 – 1448a 96, 101, 121 – 1448b-1449a 121, 204 – 1449a 92, 106 – 107, 113, 121, 203, 204 – 1450b 112, 219 – 1451b 107, 112, 113, 204 – 205, 213 – 1452a 113 – 1453b 113, 219 – 1455a-b 113 – 1456b 63, 67, 129 – 130, 195 – 1459a 82, 152 – 153 – 1459b 125 – 1460a 125 – 1461a 152 – 153, 166, 168, 184, 185 – 1462a 219 – Metaphysics – 1009b 160 – 1093a 178

Aristotle – Politics – 1337b 17 – 1342b 159 – Nicomachean Ethics – 1128a 205

[Aristotle] – De Melisso Xenophanes Gorgia – 979a10 – 980b21 48 – 49 – Athenaeus – 1.16a – 2.49a-d 36

Index locorum

– 10.422e-423a – 13.590a 37 – 14.630 f 125

37

Callias – test. *7 PCG 72, 111 – Pedētai – fr. 15 PCG 91 Callimachus – Iambi – fr. 203 Pfeiffer

125

Cassius Longinus – Ars rhetorica – 561 86 Crates – Hērōes – fr. 10 PCG – Paidiai – fr. 28 PCG

106 96 – 97, 106

Cratinus – Archilochoi – fr. 6 PCG 87 – 90 – Boukoloi – fr. 17 PCG 97 – Eumenides – fr. 70 PCG 157 – Panoptai – fr. 167 PCG 38 – Ploutoi – fr. 171 PCG 62 – Pytinē – test. 2 PCG 103 – fr. 203 PCG 159 – Kheirōnes – fr. 258 PCG 162 – Hōrai – fr. 276 PCG 97 – Incerta – fr. 334 PCG 37 – fr. 342 PCG 81, 97 – fr. 355 PCG 35, 148, 153 – 154 – fr. 360 PCG 202

Cratinus Iunior – Tarantīnoi – fr. 7 PCG 67 – Pseudypobolimaios – fr. 11 PCG 23 Critias – fr. 2 IEG – fr. 4 IEG

193 120, 127

[Demetrius] – De elocutione – 20 80 – 81 – 36 82 – 66 82 – 77 82 – 163 – 172 206 – 190 – 191 83 Democritus – DK68 A101 160 – DK68 B2 161, 195 – DK68 B15c 133 – DK68 B18 158 – 160, 162 – DK68 B21 157, 162 – DK68 B22 153, 156 – DK68 B23 155 – 156, 159 – 160 – DK68 B25 156 – DK68 B26 51 – DK68 B142 52 – DK68 B299 192 – 193 Diodorus Siculus – Bibliotheca historica – 12.12.4 17 – 18 Diogenes Laertius – Vitae philosophorum – 9.1 88 – 9.5 – 6 21 – 9.48 153, 155 – 9.52 65 Dionysius of Halicarnassus – De Lysia – 3 66 – 12 81

271

272

Index locorum

– De Demosthene – 43 85 – De Thucydide – 24 66 – De Compositione verborum – 22 82 – 23 82 – Dissoi Logoi – DK90 B5 167 – 168, 199 Donatus – De comoedia – CGF p. 67 Kaibel Ecphantides – Incerta – fr. 3 PCG

189, 207

96

Empedocles – DK31 B2 44 – DK31 B8 44 – DK31 B9 44 – DK31 B15 44 – DK31 B17 44 – DK31 B105 44 – 45 – DK31 B133 44 – DK31 B148 162 – DK31 B149 162 – DK31 B150 162 Ephippus – Peltastēs – fr. 19 PCG

92 – 93

Epicharmus – Elpis ē Ploutos – fr. 32 PCG 201 – Logos kai Logina – fr. 77 PCG 119 – 120, 128 – Mousai – fr. 92 PCG 123 – Odysseus Automolos – fr. 97 PCG 120 – Periallos – fr. 108 PCG 120 – Philoktētas – fr. 131 PCG 159

– Incerta – fr. 147 PCG

36 – 39

Eupolis – Dēmoi – fr. 99 PCG 100, 136 – Heilōtes – fr. 148 PCG 120 – Marikas – fr. 214 PCG 138 – Prospaltioi – fr. 261 PCG 93, 96 – Incerta – fr. 327 PCG 13 – fr. 366 PCG 84 – fr. 385 PCG 138 – fr. 413 PCG 81 Euripides – Hippolytus – 451 – 452 15 – 16, 20 – The Suppliants – 295 48 – 433 – 437 73 – 869 81 – Iphigenia in Aulis – 798 15 – 16 – Erechtheus – fr. 369 TrGF 16, 20 – Thēseus – fr. 382 TrGF 73 – Oedipus – fr. 540a TrGF 129 – Palamēdēs – fr. 578 TrGF 73, 76, 193 – Incerta – fr. 910 TrGF 192 Gorgias – On not-beeing – see Sext. Emp. Adv. math. 7.65 – 87 and Ps.-Ar. Mel. Xen. Gorg. 979a10 – 980b21 – Helen DK82 B11 – 8 – 16 49 – 9 132 – 21.4 16, 159

Index locorum

– Palamedes DK82 B11a – 7 145 – 30 73 – DK82 B12 203 – 204, 207 – 208 Hecataeus of Miletus – fr. 1a FGrHist 116 Heraclides of Pontus – Homeric solutions – fr. 99 Schütrumpf 181 – 182 – fr. 100 Schütrumpf 210 – fr. 101 Schütrumpf 182 – fr. 102 Schütrumpf 182 – fr. 103 Schütrumpf 182 – fr. 104 Schütrumpf 210 – fr. 109 Schütrumpf 181, 183 Heraclitus – DK22 A16 – DK22 A22 – DK22 B1 – DK22 B5 – DK22 B12 – DK22 B23 – DK22 B32 – DK22 B35 – DK22 B42 – DK22 B48 – DK22 B67 – DK22 B101 – DK22 B111 – DK22 B116

38 171 – 172 39, 49 45 40 41, 42 41 192 – 193 88 – 89 42, 45 41 192 41 192

Hermias – Comm. Pl. Phaedr. 267c Hermippus – Athēnas gonai – fr. 3 PCG 144 Herodotus – 1.12 127, 128 – 1.23 117 – 1.47 128 – 1.57 135 – 1.62 128

– 1.142 143 – 1.174 127, 128 – 2.49 119 – 2.57 137 – 2.117 148, 154 – 155 – 4.27 137 – 4.32 148, 154 – 155 – 4.36 207 – 4.52 137 – 4.59 137 – 5.59 – 61 129 – 5.67 96, 101 – 6.21 96, 100 – 101, 108 – 6.27 18 – 6.138 135, 143 – 7.6 91, 118 – 7.96 192 – 193 – 7.220 129 – 8.59 88 – 8.144 142 Hesiod – Theogony – 22 115 – 116 Hippias of Elis – DK86 B9 167 Hippocratic corpus – Nat. hom. 5.6 47 – De arte – 2 48, 50 – 7 59 – Morb. sacr. 1 50 – 51 – Vict. 1.23 55, 75 – 77

67 – 68 Horace – Ars poetica – 438 – 441 IG – I3 – I3 – I3 – I3 – I3

254 258 476 969 970

85 – 86

97 97 14 96 – 97 97

273

274

Index locorum

Ilias – 1.50 183 – 184 – 1.129 184 – 185 – 1.381 163 – 1.424 176 – 1.598 177 – 2.15 169 – 170 – 2.649 181 – 5.20 211 – 5.83 178, 179 – 5.461 177 – 6.289 – 292 154 – 7.390 155 – 9.203 211 – 9.308 – 314 173 – 174, 180 – 10.252 – 253 165, 166, 174 – 10.274 – 277 184 – 10.405 – 407 210 – 211 – 11.637 173 – 15.123 173 – 15.189 170 – 18.599 – 601 131 – 20.269 – 272 178 – 21.252 153, 156 – 21.447 185 – 22.210 211 – 23.328 168 – 169 – 23.332 – 333 150 – 23.698 160 – 24.88 161 – 162 Ion of Chios – Epidēmiai – fr. 6 392 FGrH= 104 Leurini Isocrates – Antidosis – 45 121, 133 – 47 133 – 59 172 – 259 – 267 16 – Aegineticus – 5 21 – 22, 23 – Helen – 11 92, 112 – Evagoras – 10 133

– 11 133 – Nicocles – 7 133 Julian – Constantius – 77a 86 Leucippus – DK67 A6

74 – 75, 199

Lysias – fr. 1.2 Carey Matro – fr. 534 SH

91

38

Metrodorus of Lampsacus – DK61 A3 164 – DK61 A5 165 Nicophon – Egcheirogastores – fr. 10 PCG 13 – 14

16, 18

Odyssey – 1.1 173 – 174 – 1.159 – 160 20 – 1.325 – 327 183 – 2.40 – 79 182 – 8.200 185 – 8.266 – 366 183 – 8.321 – 343 211 – 8.499 – 520 183 – 10.330 173 – 174 – 11.309 182 – 11.576 – 577 182 – 12.59 – 63 156 – 13.119 210 – 15.376 – 377 157 – 18.85 167 – 18.163 202 – 19.172 – 174 181 – 182 – 20.13 87 – 20.75 161 – 162 – 21.390 175 – 176

Index locorum

Palaephatus – Incredibilia – 4.8 207 – 31.1 207 – 31.12 207 Parmenides – DK28 B2 49, 192, 197 – DK28 B6 192, 197 – DK28 B8 44, 45, 49 – DK28 B19 43 Pausanias – Graeciae descriptio – 4.15.6 18 – 6.9.6 – 7 18 – 7.26.13 154 – 155 Pherecrates – Korianno – fr. 84 PCG Philemon – Incerta – fr. 99

131

23, 35, 159, 185 – 187

Philippides – Incerta – fr. 25 PCG

13

Philitas – Ataktoi glōssai. Hermēneia – fr. 33 Kuchenmüller 149 – fr. 49 Kuchenmüller 150 Philyllius – Dōdekate – fr. 6 PCG

38

Phrynichus – Mousai – fr. 32 PCG Pindar – Olympian – 3.4 – 6 132 – 10.1 15

108, 110 – 111

– 13.87 123 – 124 – Pythian – 1.86 83 – 2.54 – 55 128 – 3.113 157 – 4.295 – 296 20 – 4.258 – 299 193 – Nemean – 3.4 – 5 157 – 7.21 – 23 90 – Thrēnoi – fr. 128c Snell-Maehler Plato – The Apology of Socrates – 22c 159 – 26d-e 14 – Meno – 75e 60, 69 – Phaedo – 77e 106 – 97b 14 – Alcibiades Ι – 108c 126 – Theaetetus – 152e 99, 121 – Charmides – 163a-d 60, 69 – Symposion – 185c 53 – 213c 203 – Phaedrus – 234e 84, 194 – 245a 158 – 252b 208, 209 – 266d 14 – 266d-267d 78 – 268d 212 – 213 – 277a 109 – Euthydemos – 277e 56, 60, 196, 197 – Hippias Maior – 285d 68, 133, 166 – 286a-c 198 – Hippias Minor – 364b 179 – 181 – 364c-e 180 – 181

90, 116 – 117

275

276

Index locorum

– 365b 180 – 181 – 365c-d 179 – 181 – 369e-370a 209, 212 – 213 – 370d 192, 197, 209 – Protagoras – 337a-c 60, 69 – 340a 60, 69 – 340c 69 – 356d 127 – 358a 60 – Cratylus – 384b 56, 60, 196, 197 – 387d 50 – 391b 56, 61, 198, 199 – 391d 198 – 391e-392b 198 – 393e 76 – 394e-421c 171 – 401d 40 – 407a-b 196, 198 – 199 – 417a-b 196, 199 – 418a-c 196, 200 – 425d-426b 208 – 209 – 431e-432a 196, 200 – 435d 46 – Gorgias – 462e 151 – 487d 13 – 502b 92 – Ion – 530b 66, 196 – 531a 89 – 532a 89 – 533e 158 – Laws – 669d-e 126 – Republic – 366e 132 – 388e-389a 211 – 390a 132 – 392a 132 – 400b-c 67, 124 – 125, 131 – 568a 174 – 175 [Plato] – Theages – 125b-d

174 – 175

Plato comicus – Lakōnes e Poiētai – fr. 69 PCG 80, 93 – Hyperbolos – fr. 183 PCG 34, 135 – 136, 138 – 139, 196 – Phaōn – fr. 189 PCG 14 Plutarch – Pericles – 36.5 59 – Themistocles – 10.5 18 [Plutarch] – De Musica 1141c Prodicus – DK84 – DK84 – DK84 – DK84 – DK84 – DK84 – DK84 – DK84 – DK84 – DK84

117 – 118

A9 46, 194 A11 46, 60 A13 60 A15 60 A16 46, 60 A17 60 A18 60 A19 60 B4 62 B5 62

Propertius – 2.34.41 – 44

86

Protagoras – DK80 A1 50, 63 – DK80 A10 59 – DK80 A24 46, 56 – DK80 A25 56 – DK80 A26 46, 56 – DK80 A27 64 – DK80 A28 195 – 196 – DK80 A29 63, 195 – DK80 A30 113 – DK80 B1 127

Index locorum

Sannyrion – Danaē – fr. 8 PCG

Telecleides – Incerta – fr. 41 PCG

109

Sextus Empiricus – Adversus mathematicos – 7.65 – 87 48 – 7.130 38 Solon – fr. 13.52 191 – fr. 36.11 – 12 IEG

Theagenes of Rhegium – DK8 A1a 46, 56 – DK8 A3 163 – 164 Theodectas – Incerta – fr. 6 TrGF

Stesichorus – fr. 212 PMGF

73

135 Theognetus – Phasma ē Philargyros – fr. 1 PCG 14

Sophocles – Oedipus at Colonus – 794 – 795 83 – Amphiaraus – fr. 121 TrGF 73 Sophron – fr. 4b PCG

101

Theognis – 367 IEG 191 – 769 – 772 IEG 191 – 873 – 876 IEG 126

106

192 – 193

Strabo – Geographica – 13.1.54 24 – 14.2.19 22 Strato – Phoenikidēs – fr. 1 PCG 34 – 35, 148 – 151, 173, 186, 220 Strattis – Anthrōporestēs – fr. 1 PCG 111 – Makedones ē Pausanias – fr. 29 PCG 34, 140 – 141, 142 – Phoenissai – fr. 49 PCG 141 – 142 Syrian. – Comm. Arist. Met. 191.29 – 35

Theopompus – Kallaischros – fr. 23 PCG 80 – Incerta – fr. 79 PCG 13 – 14 – Thucydides – 1.20 194 – 1.22 194 – 1.138 145 – 2.68 139 – 3.82 46 – 47 – 3.94 145 – 3.104 186 – 3.112 145 – 6.54 194 – 7.29 18 – 7.63 135, 145 – 146 Timocles – Dionysiazousai – fr. 6 PCG 112 – Ikarioi Satyroi – fr. 19 PCG 93

71 – 72

277

278

Xenarchus – Skythai – fr. 11 PCG Xenophanes – DK21 B18 – DK21 B32

Index locorum

– Cynegeticus – 6.20 128, 172 141

191 – 192 45

Xenophon – Anabasis – 6.1.11 124 – 125 – 7.5.14 14 – Oeconomicus – 9.10 16 – Symposion – 3.5 16 – Memorabilia – 1.1.11 157 – 158 – 1.2.21 133 – 4.2.1 22

[Xenophon] – Athenaion Politeia – 1.13 20 – 2.7 – 8 135 – 136, 146 – 2.18 96, 107 Zoilus of Amphipolis – BNJ 71 fr. 2 183 – BNJ 71 fr. 4 185, 211 – BNJ 71 fr. 5 184, 197 – BNJ 71 fr. 6 185 – BNJ 71 fr. 8 211 – BNJ 71 fr. 9 184 – BNJ 71 fr. 10 185 – BNJ 71 fr. 11 210 – 211 – BNJ 71 fr. 13 185 – BNJ 71 fr. 15 211 – BNJ 71 fr. 18 211 – 212