Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans 1904675735, 9781904675730

Table of contents :
PrefaceAcknowledgementsTragedy1. The Study of Greek Tragedy [1976]2. On Stichomythia [1980]3. On the Tragedian Chaeremon [1970]4. The 'Pirithous' Fragments [1993]5 Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy [1969]6. Review of James Diggle, 'Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta' (Oxford, 1998) [1999]Euripides7. Three Scribes in Laurentianus 32.2? [1963]8. The Funeral Oration in Euripides' 'Supplices' [1972]9. The Date of Euripides' 'Suppliants' and the Date of Tim Rice's Chess [1990]10. The Stasimon Euripides, 'Hecuba' 905-52 [1990]11. A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) [1971]12. Review of James Diggle, 'Euripidis Fabulae' Tomus II (Oxford Classical Text, 1981) and 'Studies on the Text of Euripides' (Oxford, 1981) [1984]13. Review of James Diggle, 'Euripidis Fabulae' Tomus I (Oxford Classical Text, 1984) [1986]Euripideans14. Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545-1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654-1712) [1995]15. Jeremiah Markland (1693-1776) [1976]16. Samuel Musgrave (1732-80) [2004]17. Peter Elmsley (1774-1825) [2004]18. James Henry Monk (1784-1856) [2004]19. Charles Badham (1813-84) [1993]20. F.A. Paley (1816-88) [1996]Christopher Collard: PublicationsIndex

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Title Pages

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Title Pages (p.i) Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans (p.iii) Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans (p.iv) Copyright Page Published by Liverpool University Press from 2013 This new volume of Christopher Collard's work represents forty years of scholarship. Of the twenty papers collected here, thirteen explore tragedy in general and Euripides in particular, but with emphasis on textual questions – transmission, interpretation, verbal criticism – and dramatic form. The other seven evaluate important Euripidean scholars from the 17th to the 19th centuries, including Joshua Barnes, Jeremiah Markland, S. Musgrave, Peter Elmsley and J.H. Monk. Fundamental, authoritative, and ground-breaking on their first publication, these papers, ranging over problems both general and complex in the study of Greek tragedy, the history of classical scholarship, and above all Euripides, form a volume of rare excellence and lasting value. James Diggle, Professor of Greek and Latin, Queens' College, Cambridge The book's material is divided into three thematic sections: ‘Tragedy’, ‘Euripides’ and ‘Euripideans’. All papers have been corrected, revised and supplemented with further matter, chiefly a recent and full bibliography.

First published in 2007 by Bristol Phoenix Press an imprint of The Exeter Press Page 1 of 2

Title Pages Reed Hall, Streatham Drive Exeter, Devon EX4 4QR United Kingdom Reprinted 2008 www.exeterpress.co.uk © Christopher Collard 2007 The right of Christopher Collard to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN 978 1 904675 73 0 Typeset by Richard Ashdowne. Printed in Great Britain by Antony Rowe, Chippenham.

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[UNTITLED]

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

[UNTITLED] (p.ii) Christopher Collard was born in 1934. After a three-year gap for National Service following a grammar-school education, he studied at Cambridge and Hamburg Universities. His first university post was at Liverpool (1959–65). He moved to help establish the new University of Kent at Canterbury, arriving before its first students; he ended his time there (1965–75) as Master of Rutherford College. From 1975 to 1996 he was Professor of Classics at University of Wales Swansea, and then retired to Oxford. He was Secretary of the Classical Association (1972– 79) and edited its journal Classical Quarterly (1997–2002). He has edited, translated and written about Greek tragedy and particularly Euripides, with a long-standing interest in fragmentary texts; but he regularly diverts into the lives and achievements of Classical scholars.

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Preface

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

(p.vii) Preface I have selected those papers which I think best stand reprinting, and excluded in particular some whose chief matter later appeared in my commentaries on Euripides' Supplices (1975) and Hecuba (1991). A secondary factor in my selection was to show the range of my work. I have omitted one paper already twice anthologised and therefore easily accessible (on ‘Formal Debates in Euripides' Drama’: see under 1975 in my list of Publications at the end of the volume), in favour of admitting an older one which has been cited with approval in recent years (on Athenaeus, No. 5). I have included only those reviews in which I hope to have said something useful, or of interest. There was one review which on this criterion I intended to include (of P.T. Stevens's Colloquial Expressions in Euripides, Wiesbaden 1976); but I found that I had so much more to add in matter and comment that it became a long independent article (see 2005 in the list of Publications). When I stepped back a little after I had made the selection, I thought that it revealed quite well my increasing engagement over the years with fragmentary texts: this seems to have been heralded (unconsciously) in the early papers on Athenaeus and Chaeremon. In almost all the papers I have corrected errors of reference or printing, deleted a few outright mistakes, and omitted or altered a few things or allusions overtaken by time. The pagination of the original publications is given within doubled square brackets within the main texts, e.g. [[40]]. I have intervened within papers to any extent only in Nos. 1 (on tragedy in general), 3 (on Chaeremon), 5 (on Athenaeus), 8 (on the Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices), 11 (on the lexicography of Euripides), 14 (on Joshua Barnes), 19 (on Charles Badham) and 20 (on F.A. Paley). In addition, I have added to many papers a ‘Preliminary Note 2006’, to inform readers about such changes, and I have added to all of them an ‘Endnote 2006’ which contains any further thoughts and in particular refers to subsequent discussions or comments by others. I have not been able to note publications from 2004 comprehensively, and those much later than the start of 2005 more than occasionally. Abbreviations of periodical-titles are those in common use and conform as far as possible with the practice of L'Année Philologique. I begin the volume with part of my Inaugural Lecture at the then University College Swansea (1976), and this perhaps needs comment. Inaugural lectures are personal credos, in part if not in whole, and (p.viii) evanescent. I chose as the subject for mine ‘The Study of Greek Tragedy’ and set out my own hopeful stall. I have annotated it here with some reflections on what I have

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Preface afterwards sold or offered for sale; I wish, I suppose, to provide a little background for some of the papers included here, and for my larger publications. The studies in this volume were written successively in the University of Liverpool, the University of Kent at Canterbury (now the University of Kent), University College Swansea (now University of Wales Swansea), and the University of Oxford (where I have had the good fortune to be associated with St Hilda's College, The Queen's College and the Corpus Christi College Classics Centre). All university teachers owe much to their colleagues and students, and not less to their institutional libraries and the helpfulness of their library staff (unfailing helpfulness, in my experience). This is a good place for me to state my own very wide indebtedness. It has been a special pleasure to prepare this volume amid the incomparable holdings of the Bodleian and Sackler Libraries in Oxford, and the splendid ambience of the Library of The Queen's College (see also my Acknowledgements). John Betts of Bristol Phoenix Press took me unawares and aback with the offer to publish this selection; he has my warmest thanks for this (few invitations can be so cheering), but also for approving my choice of papers. My gratitude goes equally to his colleagues at University of Exeter Press, and particularly to Anna Henderson who steered the volume so amicably into print. I am most grateful, as so many times before, for advice, encouragement, and other help from Doreen Innes and particularly James Diggle. It is a pleasure to thank Richard Ashdowne who prepared the elegant final copy from a gallimaufry of marked-up copies, and from supplementary matter compiled with antique software. Oxford 2007                                                                                        C.C.

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Acknowledgements

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

(p.ix) Acknowledgements I am grateful for permission to reprint these papers to the original publishers or copyrightholders: Paper No. 1 (University of Wales Swansea, Singleton Park, Swansea SA2 8PP); No. 3 (Journal of Hellenic Studies: Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies, Senate House, University of London); No. 5 (Rivista di Filologia Classica: Loescher Editore, via Vittorio Amedeo 18, 10121 Torino, Italy); No. 6 (Bryn Mawr Classical Review: Thomas Library, Bryn Mawr College, PA 19010-2899, USA); No. 7 (Studi Italiani di Filologia Classica: Periodici Le Monnier, via A. Meucci 2, 50015 Grassina (FI), Italy); Nos. 8 and 11 (Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies: Institute of Classical Studies, Senate House, University of London); No. 10 (Sacris Erudiri: Brepols Publishers, Sint-Pietersabdij Steenbrugge, Baron Ruzettelaan 435, Brugge, Belgium); Nos. 12 and 13 (Classical Review: Classical Association, Senate House, University of London, and Oxford University Press); No. 14 (L'Antiquité Classique: Collège Erasme, Place Blaise Pascal 1, B-1348 Louvain-la-Neuve, Belgium); No. 15 (Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society: University of Cambridge); Nos. 16, 17, 18 (Dictionary of British Classicists: Thoemmes-Continuum, 2 Queens' Avenue, Bristol). I myself hold the copyright to Nos. 2, 9, 19 and 20, all published in the former Liverpool Classical Monthly and its Papers; this remarkable and much-lamented periodical was established and run single-handedly by my former colleague at Liverpool, John Pinsent. My (two) requests to the publisher of No. 4 were returned undelivered, so that I can here only offer both apologies and acknowledgement to Ediciones Clásicas, (?formerly at) Magnolias 9, bajo izda, 28029 Madrid, Spain. I gratefully acknowledge permission from the Provost, Fellows and Scholars of The Queen's College, Oxford to reproduce the first dedicatory page of their Library's copy of Joshua Barnes' Euripides of 1694 (on p. 198), from which the motif on this volume's cover is also taken; and I remain grateful for the ever-ready help of the College Librarian, Amanda Saville, and her colleagues Tessa Shaw, Veronika Vernier and Michael Williams while I was preparing some of the studies here for their first publication, and later revising and supplementing all of them for this volume. (p.x)

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The Study of Greek Tragedy

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

The Study of Greek Tragedy Part of an Inaugural Lecture under this title, University College of Swansea 1976 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0001

Abstract and Keywords This paper (an Inaugural Lecture) discusses the fundamental tasks of scholar and student: the closest possible comprehension of the text must precede, but also aid, appreciation of vocabulary, style and poetic idiom; then comes understanding of dramatic form; last, attention to cultural background and presuppositions. All these must be woven into play-commentaries and general studies which inform the reader, but are frank with problems, and which suggest to the sensibility. A final section raises the difficulties and methods of translating tragic texts (the author has translated Aeschylus) – but also the rewards, not least in widening access to their artistic and emotive power. Keywords:   comprehension, appreciation, poetic idiom, dramatic form, cultural background, translations

The lecture had begun with a brief survey, for a largely non-Classical audience, of the survival of tragedy, and of its study in the ancient and modern worlds until about 1900. The text below has been partly reduced, and begins at p. 10 of the original. Since the great German scholar Wilamowitz at the end of the 19th century set out his requirements for the modern study of Greek tragedy, in its cultural totality, what has been achieved? What may be hoped that lies within knowledge, and from new approaches?1 The fundamental task remains that of the textual critic, editing the Greek text into a form as close to the poet's autograph as can be secured by historical evaluation of the manuscript evidence; and aided by the comparative grammatical and linguistic material compiled in the philology of centuries, ancient commentaries and lexica as well as modern handbooks. The next task is that of interpretation, one best discharged also in the course of textual criticism (when the editor and commentator should also make his own translation of the original, if only for his own use during work); by this I mean the clarification of meanings, primary, secondary, implicit and suggestive. Then follows work towards a deeper appreciation of tragedy ‘as a work of art Page 1 of 10

The Study of Greek Tragedy and at the same time (like all works of art) a social document’ (I quote the author of one of the most admired of modern editions).2 The years since the Second World War have brought a new realism to what is attainable by recension of manuscripts: we are nearer to establishing what texts were available to readers at any one time, from antiquity to the present, and their quality; but the recognition that most medieval manuscripts of tragedy are contaminated, and not in stemmatic relation, both (p.4) tends to leave more to the judgement of the editor, admittedly within a narrow room, and offers chance still to the conjectural critic.3 Partly in this realisation, but equally in delayed response to demands like those of Wilamowitz, there has been rapid and closer attention to the plays as poetry, as structures of formal utterance, as registers of tone, mood and vision.4 One basic instrument of detailed verbal and poetic analysis is the concordance. Indices, even dictionaries, to the Greek tragedians were compiled in the 18th and 19th centuries, but their completeness and quality varied. Aeschylus is well served by an index made as recently as the 1960s; for Sophocles we still use a lexicon of the 1870s, a work whose full and wise discussion puts it in that rare order of scholarly books which do not age. [[11]] Euripides had to wait till the 1950s for his first complete concordance, but as soon afterwards as 1971 I was able to publish a supplement to it, taking account of new if fragmentary papyrus texts, and of fresh evidence for the extant plays, which ran to more than 4,000 entries.5 The Euripidean corpus, plays and fragments, is very nearly twice as large as that of Aeschylus and Sophocles put together; so I sometimes doubt my intention of compiling a lexicon, not a revised concordance, to him.6 Indices, concordances and dictionaries are one basis; a second is careful categorisation of grammar and syntax. That foundation too was well enough laid in the later 19th century for Wilamowitz to remark that the next objective was illustration of the syntax from the individual sensibility of the poet, responding to the formal linguistic and metrical conventions of his art, as they had been historically determined; responding also to the connotations and nuances of words and their synonyms in idiomatic grouping.7 To some degree there are a diction and a usage which are special to tragedy, but no tragedian chose and ordered his words in the consciousness only of tragic precedent: he was a poet of his people's whole language, literature and experience, and of his own city and time. So the exacting part of tragedy's verbal criticism is to balance invention against those many pressures. Appraisal of metaphor and imagery is most difficult, but methods well tried in modern literature already bring illumination. Mechanical and still useful lists of figures and images we have had for years, but scrutiny of their meaning and effect, in the absolute, in context or thematically, is new. American scholars have led the way in these studies, but I should like to mention the important work on Euripides' imagery done by my friend and former colleague at Canterbury, Shirley Barlow.8 An aspect of tragedy which most eludes precise discussion is its internal variety of dramatic form. This variety is more complex than a simple relief afforded by regular interchange of speech and dance-song, of episodes in (p.5) dialogue separated by choral lyric; indeed, within the extant plays the [[12]] speaking actor gradually extends his role, asserting his voice also lyrically, sometimes in couple with the chorus, increasingly in a solo aria. Scholars in Germany and Austria particularly have done important work in tracing the development of action and theme across these formal boundaries, and knowing the implication for tone and meaning of the interplay of voices: now in dialogue of natural and uneven pace; now in stylised exchange, either a formal debate which moves through argument in long set speeches to altercation and, usually,

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The Study of Greek Tragedy stalemate; or that most perplexing of forms, stichomythia, a dialogue sometimes as long as 100 verses in which two or rarely three voices question and answer, inform or explain, expose and develop, but with each person's utterance confined to a singe verse, or half-verse, neither more nor less. To continue the list: expository prologues; elaborate monologues or soliloquies, expressing attitude, dilemma or reaction; richly coloured and fast-moving messenger speeches; divine epiphanies and pronouncements ex machina of baffling directness; or, in lyric of bewilderingly subtle modulation, choral odes, hymns, invocations, laments, even antiphonies; or actors' monodies; stanzaic or free. All these formal resources, variously combined or consecutive, need the most careful visual enquiry and, I emphasise this, registration by the ear. We must measure them separately, then gauge them in transition as well as aggregate, if we are to judge their part in the whole intention.9 I have been passing in review the verbal and formal resources of tragedy, but a drama as rooted in cult and convention as Greek tragedy affected its audience, moved them, no less in what it reenacted and so interpreted suggestively to their immediate experience, and through its reliance on implicit or traditional values. Now all study of the past is subject to contemporary ways of seeing and thinking, for these are expressions of present need. The wider study of tragedy in modern years has therefore tolerated many and quickly changing persepectives, some already abandoned: interpretation from its poets' lives and attitudes, an almost circular approach, since we know but little of their lives and must hypothesise their attitudes largely from their plays; reading as Geistesgeschichte, a dramatic document of its age's thought and spirit, and especially its social and ethical preoccupations, so that each play is found some motive of comment or exhortation; its working expounded from modern psychology, not least the casting of its characters, in the attempt to describe what tragedy was for the Greeks, and is for us, as human beings, in our inner response; or, in deliberate contrast, it has been denied any higher aim than dramatic and theatrical perfection, with action [[13]] its mainspring and its characters (p.6) subordinate. The Aristotelian criteria are perpetually re-examined; his severe description of the tragic effect passes in and out of favour; battle ever renews to determine what he meant by hamartia, the mistake which brings about the tragic change of fortune, whether mistake of fact or error of intention, and what degree of moral responsibility attached. More important, the Aristotelian definitions, which were, and could only be, formulated upon Greek tragedy, are tested against later drama, and against modern definitions – especially by German scholars against the theories of German poets and philosophers like Lessing, Goethe, Hegel, Schopenhauer, Hebbel and Brecht. Many say the latest claims to insight reflect a spiritual insecurity of the 20th century, the will to relate tragedy most closely to its origin in cult; to find its essence in religious and social expression, and in that its universal meaning for the condition every age of man has made itself. To want this from Greek tragedy is neither new nor possible only to Greek tragedy, or to drama; it may explain why some of the most powerful of modern plays have been reworkings of Greek tragic myth; it does explain, I think, the determination, if not commitment, of some who study tragedy in this way. I find very difficult much recent work on tragedy in its relation to cult and unwritten ethical institutions, and particularly the character of Greek myth as their vehicle. It may be ‘true’, it may be historically objective, it may be sound in anthropological method; but for me, it affects my response to tragedy as I study it; I risk saying, for me it diminishes tragedy as art; it is a horizon my spirit does not want. I can in that, perhaps should in that, be accused of closing my studious eye to a new dimension, which deepens as it reveals; but at its most extreme, the structuralist analysis of myth, for example, brings arid truth, and I warm to a recent protesting voice: ‘the algebra of Levi-Strauss, for all its co-ordinated complexity, is one of Page 3 of 10

The Study of Greek Tragedy intellect, not emotion’.10 Greek tragedy was emotive, publicly and ritually emotive, and it is good to be reminded of its exacting directness in the original experience, and its power still, now, as an experience.11 I may appear to have emphasised the [[14]] verbal and the formally poetic in tragedy at the cost of the ritual, the mythic, the ethical, the social, the theatrical, even the tragic itself. I hope, not too much, and the emphasis reflects my own work. Also, I want brief space to insist how the findings of specialised study can best be shared with the unspecialising student. The only form of book which can properly be comprehensive is the commentary, which should store fact, evidence and interpretation handily; summarise problems and evaluate criticism or refer compendiously to them; and suggest to further study or closer engagement. Advances in knowledge (p.7) and method, and new perceptions, have been so many that new commentaries on the plays are essential. Cost of production is their major obstacle. I am lucky therefore to have published a commentary on a play of Euripides last year.12 Reviewers will judge how successfully I have treated those aspects of tragedy I have discussed, or met the demands from a commentary I have just put. If I may offer a hostage – two hostages – to my reviewers: it is six years since I began my manuscript, three years since it went to press and I endured the common author's agony of infelicity, plain shortcoming or unrealised opportunity. First, I now better understand how religious and ethical presuppositions are important in tragedy, in their relation to mythic plot, and think I did not do enough in commenting on them. Second, I may have stated too much but suggested too little, not prompted the further imagination, a fear sharpened for me by reading Dr Johnson's wisdom in the Preface to his Shakespeare. His often cynical observations on the office of the commentator – and the failure to discharge it – include such shafts as ‘thus the human mind is kept in motion without progress’ – but how right his determination not to be ‘very diligent to observe … poetical beauties and defects’! ‘Judgement, like other faculties’, he goes on, ‘is improved by practice. … I have therefore shown so much as may enable the candidate of criticism to discover the rest.’13 In other words, the commentator may serve the understanding and its improvement, but his nicer duty is to measure what he suggests to the sensibility.14 My last topic is one that bears very importantly on the work of most university departments of classics, and on all secondary and further education: it is the study of classical literature, especially Greek tragedy, in translation. The post-war world, in which traditional classics have declined, shows an ever-increasing attraction to antiquity, and eagerness to read its writings. The phenomenon has often been remarked, but I single out its prophetic comment as long ago as 1953 by the distinguished German Hellenist Wolfgang Schadewaldt, in a lecture on contemporary views of [[15]] Greek drama:15 he noted the special interest of theatrical directors and playwrights; and his own translations have great success and reputation, I believe. The paperback revolution has provided both appetite and food, and one may fairly speak of an industry in translating the classics, but Greek drama in particular. I mentioned earlier a distinctive contribution by American scholars to the study of imagery. They have an even prouder lead in making verse translations of quality, for students and the general public of Greek poetry. I dodge the word ‘quality’ for the moment; but Richmond Lattimore and Robert Fitzgerald are truly classical translators, for they will outlast their (p.8) time, as surely as has Dryden's Virgil or Pope's Iliad and will, I think, Day Lewis's Aeneid. All those translators have fame too as themselves poets, but again I leave this point aside. Lattimore was joint editor with David Grene of the first of three major enterprises in the United States in the translation of Greek tragedy: their collection, usually known as the ‘Chicago Series’, showed what could be

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The Study of Greek Tragedy achieved, in English of the mid-20th century, to reproduce for the literate and sensitive common man meaning, form and tone, but also poetic individuality.16 [[16]] With these words I must confront the problem of quality. I believe that translators should always use the language of the present, whether their ambition is to be literal or literary, for their prime duty is to the present, and its language is the only one they and their readers honestly command. This was the claim and hope of Dryden, rashly condemned as an ignis fatuus by Mr. Bernard Levin in last Sunday's Observer;17 he was reviewing one more poetic and creative translation of Aeschylus, from America. Perhaps reviewers must, but should not, judge translations: time alone will prove them, if their present language will speak as well to the future. The second of the three enterprises had issued translations of eleven tragedies, by outstanding and sympathetic scholars, when in 1974 the publishers, Prentice-Hall, suspended the series, I believe for business reasons.18 Its general editors were the classicist Eric Havelock and the critic Maynard Mack, [[17]] recent editor and commentator of Pope's Homer; the latter writes in the Series Foreword that the intention is to offer ‘each play in a context of exacting scholarship which seeks to make available to Greekless readers what the original Greek audiences responded to as they watched and listened to a performance. Under the English dress … as far as humanly possible the Greek identity has been accentuated rather than obscured … The notes are in the first instance conceived as a corrective to shortcomings that no translation can avoid … they undertake to instruct the reader about conventions of idiom and imagery, of legend and illusion which are native to the Greek situation and indispensable to a proper understanding of it.’ An admirable prospectus, to which the contributing translators are for the most part commendably true. One states that his version ‘makes no attempt to be poetic, or even literary; it tries to render the sense more faithfully and to reproduce the impact made by the idiom more closely than a translation with greater literary ambition could do’.19 Another writes, ‘… matter, tone, implication and images are preserved minutely enough so that a Greekless reader does not have to fear he has based an argument on some fancy of the translator’.20 Only one or two of the contributors declined to (p.9) fetter their imagination in recreating significant variations of diction, tone or nuance, or the vital immediacy of a play-text.21 The importance of this venture is very great, and it is a pity that these eleven plays are available only singly, and at high cost; they are the first attempt, and a successful one, to provide annotated translations of Greek tragedy for students without Greek, which enable them to read the texts with their meaning closely rendered; with linguistic and stylistic idiom or tone remarked in the notes if not registered in the translation; with problems of theatre, precedent, myth, religion – all ‘background’ matters – aired and often quite fully discussed. The most telling mark of their quality is their usefulness to the student with Greek, and to the professional scholar, for they are largely more recent than corresponding conventional editions with commentary, and they excel many of them in the range of their response to modern critical demands. The Prentice-Hall translations are for the student. The third American series began in 1973, entitled The Greek Tragedy in New Translations; it is edited by the accomplished critic and translator William Arrowsmith, who contributed to the earlier ‘Chicago Series’. In his words, the series ‘is based on the conviction that poets like Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides can only be properly rendered by translators who are themselves poets. Scholars [[18]] may, it is true, produce useful and perceptive versions. But our most urgent need is for a recreation of these

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The Study of Greek Tragedy plays – as though they had been written, freshly and greatly, by masters fully at home in the English of our own times’. (I recall Dryden's hope.) Arrowsmith goes on, ‘collaboration between scholar and poet … is the essential operating principle of the series’, where scholar and poet do not fortunately coexist. The purpose is to make ‘the reading of the plays as vivid as possible … the poetry aims at being dramatic poetry’.22 I do not fault the intention, which is worthy of the best ambitions of translating, and I wish the series success; it has critical essays, notes and glossaries, but not on the scale of Prentice-Hall translations. Yet it appears to me to emulate that series in serving the student and to want to outdo the Chicago versions in serving the general, literate reader. Its chief value to study, I think, will lie in stimulating us to rephrase, if not to rethink, our interpretation of text and context.23 I am convinced that the study of Greek tragedy can be pursued with accuracy and reward in translation. Of course, there must remain the untranslatable, which only the reader with Greek can appreciate, and which in its frustration will be incentive to a man without it to get himself Greek, and, once he feels it is like lace, to use Dr Johnson's memorable comparison, as much of it as he can.24 Not many undergraduates are able or willing to take the opportunity to learn Greek which every British (p.10) department of Classics offers; but if they wish to read Greek tragedy, those of us who have Greek and read it with them, must try both to insist that they read it accurately, and to add to their feeling and criticism of it something of what we ourselves read, feel and criticise in the original. It is the hardest part of our teaching. We have our compensation in the experience I know is common to university teachers who learned their classics traditionally and began to teach them traditionally, in Greek and Latin, but now plan and conduct courses in translation. The undergraduate who comes to the classics this way, from studying English or another modern literature, or the other humanities, often brings with him a more sensitive, but also more methodical, intelligence. The same advantage shows in undergraduates who since the 1950s increasingly combine sixth-form Greek and Latin, or one of [[19]] these, with English or a language, or history. I wish I had had that chance; and I can best illustrate my loss by saying that I have learned more about the classics as literature from teaching them in translation than in the original, because my students have made me learn not just matter I did not know, but also ways of thinking. Whether students of Greek tragedy – professors as well as undergraduates – read it in Greek or in translation, they must meet its hard requirement of their energy. It is consummate, an art of drama and poetry perfected, universal, complex and subtle in containment of genius within convention; at times majestic in its command of our emotions. All this we sense untaught, but tragedy survives the detailed exposition of its manner and intent, of how it reaches us. It is a paradox and touchstone of all great art that it compels such study; or defies it in the end, as a lesser thing. Who can ‘explain’ the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, Sophocles' Oedipus, or Euripides' Bacchae? To feel the challenge, nonetheless, is part of humane learning, if we find in these plays something of our humanity. I have been insisting that the student of Greek tragedy, in Greek or out of Greek, must get as close to the original in meaning, mode and setting as he can; he must use the accumulated scholarship and critical interpretation of centuries, fully but in its place, for I take it that his wish to engage at all with tragedy is for its lasting immediacy to himself. I can think of no more blunt expression of this need; no demand for our beginning – and ending – in text and context; no inaugural conclusion more appropriate than a sentence from the magisterial prescription of

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The Study of Greek Tragedy our task by the great scholar Wilamowitz to which I earlier referred: ‘What matters’, he wrote, ‘is that the old poet gets a hearing, not a modern professor.’25

(p.11) Notes 2006 The original annotation has been reduced and revised for this volume. (p.12) The ideals and practicalities of commentary-making have been discussed in two recent collections of essays: G.W. Most (ed.), Commentaries. Kommentaren. Aporemata 4 (Göttingen, 1999) [in which see a characteristically polemical piece by S. Goldhill, ‘Wipe your glosses’, 380– 425] and R.K. Gibson & C.S. Kraus (ed.), The Classical Commentary. History, Practice, Theory. Mnemosyne Supplement 232 (Leiden, 2002) [in which the passage from Dr Johnson is commended by S. West in her ‘Starting from the Telemachy’, 29–47, on 37]. (p.14)

Two postscripts on translation, 2006 (1) In the lecture I referred to an invitation to contribute to a revised Euripides translation in the well-known Loeb Library (p. 15 of the original; the paragraph is omitted here). This invitation, and that made simultaneously to two or three other proposed Euripidean contributors, was withdrawn a year or so after 1976 because, we understood, there had been a change in policies among the Loeb trustees at Harvard University. The invitation for Euripides was transferred some years later to David Kovacs, who completed his excellent Loeb translation of all the surviving plays in six volumes (1994–2002, with many parerga in journal papers and, in particular, three volumes of Euripidea (Leiden, 1994–2003); see also n. 3 above). Before my own invitation was withdrawn, I had secured a promise from the then editors of the Library, Eric Warmington and George Goold, to include at least one volume of Euripidean fragmentary plays. I now enjoy the irony that in 2003, through the kindness of Hugh Lloyd-Jones, the Loeb trustees renewed their invitation for the fragments (in two volumes, jointly with Martin Cropp, to be published in 2007/8). The Loeb trustees have also commissioned new translations for Sophocles (H. LloydJones, 3 vols, 1994–6, including the fragments), Menander (W.G. Arnott, 3 vols, 1979– 2000), Aristophanes (J. Henderson, 4 vols, 1999–2003) and now Aeschylus (A.H. Somerstein). An indication of the translation industry in Greek drama, and of its health, is given by just a (p.15) few other prominent ventures, chiefly for the student reader: Euripides (J. Morwood, R. Waterfield, E.Hall, 5 vols, Oxford, 1997–2003; and J. Davie, R. Rutherford, 4 vols, London, 1996–2005); Aeschylus (M. Ewans, 2 vols, London, 1995–6); all the Greek dramatists (various translators, ed. D.A. Slavitt, P. Bovie, 12 vols, New York, 1998–9). I record also, and in particular, the vigorous if sometimes free translation of Aeschylus' Oresteia made by R. Fagles and annotated by W.B. Stanford (London, 1976): I judged this the most suitable translation to use for students throughout my years at Swansea. (2) Twenty years after the lecture I was unexpectedly invited to translate Aeschylus for Oxford University Press – and therefore given the opportunity to reflect my wishes, what a translation of tragedy should offer, in one of my own making. This is my Aeschylus. Oresteia (2002, reprinted in ‘World's Classics’, 2003); the remaining plays are to follow by 2007/8.

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The Study of Greek Tragedy Notes: (1) . Euripides. Herakles (Bad Homburg, 19593; = Berlin, 18952), I. Einleitung in die griechische Tragödie, 222–58 (‘Wege und Ziele der modernen Tragikerkritik’). (2) . E.R. Dodds, Euripides: Bacchae (Oxford, 19441) iii = (19602) v. (3) . Since 1976 not only have all three tragedians received new complete critical editions but the huge project of editing all the fragmentary texts of tragedy has been completed: Aeschylus ed. M.L. West (Stuttgart & Leipzig, 19901, 19982); Sophocles ed. R.D. Dawe (Stuttgart & Leipzig, 19751, 19963) and ed. H.Lloyd-Jones & N.G.Wilson (Oxford, 1990); Euripides ed. J. Diggle, 3 vols (Oxford, 1981–94) and D. Kovacs, 6 vols (‘Loeb’ edition, Harvard, 1994–2002). West and Diggle in particular have demonstrated for their authors just how great the need and opportunity for conjecture still are; for Aeschylus see particularly the argument by M.L. West, Studies in Aeschylus (Stuttgart, 1990) 369–72. Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta ed. B. Snell, R. Kannicht, S.L. Radt, 5 vols (Göttingen, 1971–2004). There are two very useful recent surveys of tragic fragments and their study: M.J. Cropp, ‘Lost tragedies: a survey’ in J. Gregory (ed.), A Companion to Greek Tragedy (Oxford, 2005) 271–92, and F.D. Harvey, ‘Tragic thrausmatology’ in F. McHardy, J. Robson & F.D. Harvey (eds), Lost Dramas of Classical Athens (Exeter, 2005) 21– 48; both offer excellent bibliographical guidance. See also pp. 93–94, 97, 106 in this volume. (4) . It is scarcely possible to describe summarily all the directions into which criticism of tragedy has branched since 1976, as a poetic artefact determined also by cultural inheritance and context, religious and ‘political’. Many such directions had already been given by Wilamowitz, n. 1 above, 254ff., cf. 44–9. Much fine discussion of them is readily to hand for English readers in The Cambridge Companion to Greek Tragedy ed. P.E. Easterling (Cambridge, 1997), especially ch. 12 ‘Modern critical approaches to Greek tragedy’ (324–47) by S. Goldhill, and in A Companion to Greek Tragedy ed. J. Gregory (cited in n. 3 above) which has a splendid bibliography. (5) . C. Collard, Supplement to the Allen-Italie Concordance to Euripides (Groningen, 1971). (6) . C. Collard, ‘A proposal for a lexicon to Euripides’, Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 18 (1971) 134–43; 19 (1972) 141. My doubt in 1976 had turned by 2006 to abandonment: see the revised version of the ‘Proposal’ printed as no. 11 in this volume. (7) . Wilamowitz, n. 1 above, 255. During the lecture I was able to forecast the completion of an important study by one of my Swansea colleagues: A.C. Moorhouse, The Syntax of Sophocles (Leiden, 1982); it is exceptionally useful to students of the language of tragedy. (8) . S.A. Barlow, The Imagery of Euripides (London, 1971); cf. R. Goheen, The Imagery of Sophocles' Antigone (Princetown, 1951); A. Lebeck, The Oresteia (Washington, 1971). Two subsequent studies of Euripidean imagery have not developed Barlow's work with equal sensitivity: E. Kurtz, Die bildliche Ausdrucksweise in den Tragödien des Euripides (Amsterdam, 1985); G. Bárberi Squarotti, La rete mortale: caccia e cacciatore nelle tragedie di Euripide (Caltanisetta, 1993). I reviewed the latter in CR 47 (1997) 196–7. (9) . I am not as confident as R.P. Winnington-Ingram, Euripides and Dionysus (Cambridge, 1948) vii: ‘It is form … which provides perhaps the most objective criterion to the literary critic.’ I have made some incursions into this field of study myself, on stichomythia (no. 2 in this volume), on

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The Study of Greek Tragedy colloquialisms (see the List of Publications for 2005), and on ‘formal debates’ in Euripides (see the List for 1975; not reproduced in this volume, for reasons given in the Preface). (10) . A.B. Cook, Enactment: Greek Tragedy (Chicago, 1971) xxi. Cook was recent in 1976, but my own attitudes, as sketched in this paragraph, have hardly changed. Protests and defences of both old and new approaches continue very strongly and frequently, and this is proof, not just of how deeply tragedy engages scholars, but also of how healthy is their whole debate. Cf. n. 4 above. (11) . In the lecture I cited the recently published B. Vickers, Towards Greek Tragedy (London, 1973). Since that year there has been a world-wide explosion of theatre productions, many of stupendous power, and the emergence of a whole new field of ‘reception studies’ for tragedy. At the forefront is the Oxford University Archive of Performances of Greek and Roman Drama, with its many publications. See also n. 15 below. (12) . C. Collard, Euripides: Supplices (Groningen, 1975). (13) . A. Sherbo (ed.), The Yale Edition of the Works of Samuel Johnson VII ‘Johnson on Shakespeare’ (1968) 104. (14) . I tried to do a little more of this kind in my commentary on Euripides' Hecuba (Warminster, 1991) and on the fragmentary plays which I contributed to C. Collard, M.J. Cropp, K.H. Lee & J. Gilbert (eds), Euripides. Selected Fragmentary Plays 2 vols (Warminster, 1995 and Oxford, 2004); but these volumes appeared in an edited series (admittedly under my own general guidance) whose principal aim has been to make the plays available in both Greek and close translation for the widest possible readership. Dr Johnson's objectives are difficult to achieve in conventional commentaries and even in dedicated monograph-style or ‘running’ commentaries, such as R.P. Winnington-Ingram's innovative Euripides and Dionysus. An Interpretation of the Bacchae (Cambridge, 1948; repr. Amsterdam, 1969; repr. with an introduction by P.E. Easterling, London, 2002), or recently J. Mossman on Hecuba in her Wild Justice (Oxford, 1995) and W. Allan, The Andromache and Euripidean Tragedy (Oxford, 2000). The best chance may lie in the style chosen for individual plays in the new Duckworth Companions to Greek Tragedy, for example M. Lloyd, Sophocles. Electra (London, 2005) and P. Michelakis, Euripides. Iphigenia at Aulis (London, 2006). (15) . W. Schadewaldt, ‘Das Drama der Antike in heutiger Sicht’, Universitas 8 (1953) 591–9 (=Hellas und Hesperien (Zürich, 19702) I.187–94). (16) . R. Lattimore and D. Grene (eds), The Complete Greek Tragedies (Chicago, 1959): some plays were published individually from the 1940s. This complete translation remains without peer in the English-speaking world. (17) . J. Dryden, ‘The dedication of the Aeneis’, 2007–9 in The Poems of John Dryden ed. J. Kingsley (Oxford, 1968) III.1055; B. Levin, ‘Aeschylus lives!’, The Observer no. 9628 (15 February 1976) 27. (18) . E.A. Havelock and M. Mack (eds), Prentice-Hall Greek Drama Series (Englewood Cliffs, 1970–4).

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The Study of Greek Tragedy (19) . H. Lloyd-Jones, Agamemnon by Aeschylus (1970) 6. Lloyd-Jones's splendid translation of the whole Oresteia has been continually reprinted, and was revised in a new edition (London, 1979). His essay ‘On translations of epic and drama’, in his Greek in a Cold Climate (London, 1991) 134–45, reviews various translations from 1960 to 1974. (20) . T. Gould, Oedipus the King by Sophocles (1970) 11. (21) . A.P. Burnett, Ion by Euripides (1970) xxviii; K. Cavander, Iphigeneia at Aulis by Euripides (1973) xxv f. (22) . W. Arrowsmith (ed.), The Greek Tragedy in New Translations (New York, 1973–; London, 1974–). I cite the Editor's Foreword, pp. vii f. in all the volumes. (23) . The years since 1976 have seen this series steadily continue. The first sentence quoted from Arrowsmith, and the import of his later words, are retained by the series's latest editors, P. Burian and A. Shapiro, in their own Aeschylus. The Oresteia (New York & London, 2003). Very evidently the series has satisfied both students and general readers in North America, and more substantively than I judged likely in 1976. (24) . G.B. Hill (ed.), Boswell's Life of Johnson rev. L.F. Powell (Oxford, 1934) IV.23. (25) . Wilamowitz, n. 1 above, 257: ‘Es kommt vielmehr darauf an, dass der alte Dichter zum Worte komme, nicht ein moderner Professor.’

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On Stichomythia

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

On Stichomythia Liverpool Classical Monthly 5.4 (April 1980) 77–85 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0002

Abstract and Keywords Line-by-line dialogue between two characters is integral to Tragedy's verse-form. Although stylised and easy enough to schematize, it is often elusive in function and meaning for the characters's reactions and intentions. The article traces developments in the study of the form, from analyses of verbal and structural techniques to appreciation as drama. Keywords:   stichomythia, form, interpretation

‘… Someone else will pay: Dion, or Menekrates, as the case may be.’ ‘Which loses most?’ ‘“Each loses something dear”.’ ‘Are you a god, to measure loss with loss?’ ‘Apollo,’ I said, ‘we are starting to talk in stichomythia! This is not a play.’ Mary Renault, The Mask of Apollo, end of ch. 10. Stichomythia is distinctive, even among the strongly formalised elements of Greek tragedy. It also appears limiting, as a dramatic means. For our understanding of it, however, we must first see its formality, its ‘artificiality’ as it can seem to us, in perspective with those other elements such as rhesis, agon, amoibaion, which may conflict with concepts of ‘natural’ drama but were historically of the essence of tragedy, and were neither more nor less difficult for its original audience than are modern theatrical conventions to ourselves: such a demand of the critic has become a welcome cliché. Further, we may agree, and I think must allow, that stichomythia, perhaps to a greater degree than organised rhesis, was in its very simplicity of form familiar and

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On Stichomythia ‘easy’ for the ancient audience. ‘Easy’, though, for the poet, too? For both, perhaps at the surface of busy entertaining dialogue: it is remarkable how very few jarringly ‘empty’ lines there are. Recent studies of the form argue that its external rigidity nevertheless hides a deeper, subtle variety and fluency, whose effect may depend on the wider dramatic context, when the poet deliberately prefers it to any other form of dialogue in composing an episode. This paper summarises and annotates particularly such recent suggestions, in an attempt to determine which offer most to our (p.17) better understanding of stichomythia. In a sense, it is a synoptic ‘review’ of the subject and its principal literature, so that it is convenient to begin with a selective bibliography: I include all the major discussions (in my judgement), and some obiter dicta of importance, marked **, which I reproduce below. I refer subsequently to items listed here by author alone with short title. Bibliographical Surveys Bibliography references: E.R. Schwinge, Die Verwendung der Stichomythie in den Dramen des Euripides (Heidelberg, 1968) 11–32 (Einleitung) and 435–40 (Literaturverzeichnis) B. Seidensticker, Die Gesprächsverdichtung in den Tragödien Senecas (Heidelberg, 1969) 1–9 (Einleitung) and 201–7 (Literaturverzeichnis) (A.F. Garvie, Aeschylus' Supplices: play and trilogy (Cambridge, 1969) 123f. and n. 4: on the origins of stichomythia) General Discussions Bibliography references: A. Gross, Die Stichomythie in der griechischen Tragödie und Komödie (Berlin, 1905) J.L. Hancock, Studies in Stichomythia (Chicago, 1917) [incl. Shakespeare] Greek Tragedy Bibliography references: U. von Wilamowitz-Möllendorf, Euripides: Herakles (Berlin, 18952) on v. 537 ** L.H.G. Greenwood, Aspects of Euripidean Tragedy (Cambridge, 1953) 129** [[78]] W. Schadewaldt, Hellas und Hesperien (Zürich, 1970) I2.438f. ** (Introduction to Hölderlin's translation of Antigone, with music by Carl Orff: radio talk of April 1959) Seidensticker, Gesprächsverdichtung 19–75 ———, Die Stichomythie in W. Jens (ed.), Die Bauformen der griechischen Tragödie (München, 1971) 183–220 J.P.A. Gould, ‘Dramatic character and human “intelligibility” in Greek tragedy’, PCPhS 204 NS 24 (1978) 55 ** (= J.P.A.G., Myth, Ritual, Memory, and Exchange (Oxford, 2001) 99)

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On Stichomythia Aeschylus and Sophocles Bibliography references: E. Fraenkel, Agamemnon (Oxford, 1950) III.626 (on vv. 1202–14) ** W. Jens, Die Stichomythie in der frühen griechischen Tragödie (München, 1955) S. Ireland, ‘Stichomythia in Aeschylus: the dramatic role of syntax and connecting particles’, Hermes 102 (1974) 509–24 (p.18) Euripides Bibliography references: W. Ludwig, Sapheneia (Tübingen, 1954) P. Huggle, Symmetrische Form und Verlauf des Gesprächs in der späteuripideischen Tragödie (Tübingen, 1958) Schwinge, Verwendung (1) Most detailed discussions of stichomythia have begun by citing an ancient definition by Pollux (IV. 113 Bethe): στιχομυθεȋν δὲ ἔλεγον τὸ παρ' ἓν ἰαμβεȋον ἀντιλέγειν καὶ τὸ πρᾶγμα στιχομυθίαν ‘They called a dialogue exchanging single iambics, stichomythia’; and by extending the definition to include dialogue maintaining for even a short while lines divided between two or sometimes three speakers in the approximate ratio ½ : ½ or (very rare: Or. 1525) ⅓ : ⅓ : ⅓ (Hesychius A 5432 Latte): ἀντιλαβαί· λογικαὶ ῥήσεις ἐξ ἡμιστίχων λεγόμεναι κατ' ἀμοιβὴν παρὰ 〈τοȋς〉 τραγικοȋς. ‘half-line speeches said in turn, in tragedy’; dialogue in which the regular pattern of lines for each speaker is 1 : 2 or similar (uncommon and always brief apart from PV 36–81, e.g. Bacch. 841–6, OC 1160–8, cf. Hel. 1193–8); distichomythic sequences of 2 : 2 (not rare, e.g. Or. 215–67); and similar patterns also in trochaic tetrameters (e.g. Or. 729–73, with antilabe 774–98). More illuminating because contemporary with tragedy itself (but less often cited) is the overt headline to the court-scene at Eum. 585f.: πολλαὶ μέν ἐσμεν, λέξομεν δὲ συντόμως. ἔπος δ; ἀμείβου πρὸ ς ἔπος ἐν μέρει τιθεί ς · ‘We are many, but will speak concisely. And you answer word for word in turn’ —and stichomythia begins. Concision in answering (to question or statement), single line for single line: there is a description which fits many stichomythic exchanges. It implies also something of dramatic

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On Stichomythia quality, and judging the success of stichomythia has rightly displaced its purely compositional analysis. The change is worth tracing. 19th century German scholars in the main [[79]] searched stichomythia for proportional symmetry of content or argument, and tailored texts to yield it (Schwinge 12–14). The move from exclusively philological editions to commentaries which measured content (p.19) and manner against dramatic needs was gradual. For stichomythia, as for so much else, the impulse to new, special and sympathetic investigation came from Wilamowitz' great edition of the Herakles (1889: 2nd edn. 1895), especially the note on v. 537: No part of Attic drama is more difficult to understand than stichomythia, most obviously because this stylising of conversation seems unnatural to us; we are happy to accept it only in very lively and excited altercation, in the way Aeschylus too still uses it almost exclusively, and in the old comedy likewise. Modern imitations retain much which is extremely alien. It is undeniable that when Euripides has narrative in stichomythia (for example Supp. 115–60, Phoen. 389–427, Ion 262–363), he really falls into ugly mannerism; although empty verses are not lacking anywhere and in any poet. To this extent the difficulty lies in the thing; but besides, a specially developed feeling for language is required to be sensitive to the colouring of expression, which is often effected through ambiguous particles, often simply by means of word-position. Interpretation requires many words, but paraphrase can often help out. (My translation, but I am not sure I understand ‘wie sie auch Aischylos noch fast ausschliesslich anwendet’ – that Aeschylus' use of stichomythia is easier for us to accept, or that its use in altercation was its original function?) Shrewd and suggestive words, which not only point the way but in large degree anticipate the findings of later study; they urge appreciation of intent as well as manner. Their impact on commentators was nevertheless small. The only remarks of comparable importance I have found from the whole half-century after Herakles are by Wilamowitz himself, in his Ion of 1926 (on v. 959; of much less consequence are those on 306, 510, 990, 1340), and, unsurprisingly, by his pupil Fraenkel, in his Agamemnon of 1950 (on vv. 1202–14), most of which was written many years earlier (Preface xi f.). Even Clarendon commentators of Euripides, writing in Oxford with Fraenkel's help, seldom go beyond simple recognition that stichomythia creates some of the greatest problems of critical appreciation: the exceptions are Denniston (1939) on El. 651–2 (interruption of stichomythia) and 959–66 (dramatic considerations); Dodds (1944) on Bacch. 927–9 and 1268–70, and Dale (1954) on Alc. 818ff. (all three places on interruption). After the work of Ludwig (1954) and Jens (1955), however, German commentators, always sensitive to matters of form (see below), face the difficulties: Biehl, Orestes (1965, on vv. 747 & 1183); Imhof, Ion (1966, pp. 45–6 & nn. 68–70 on the episode 237–451, and pp. 75–6 & 78–9 on the stichomythia 923–1047); (p.20) Kannicht, Helena (1969, on vv. 94–104, 761–856, 780–1 (2), 1032–1106, 1165–1350). Wilamowitz' remarks in Herakles had borne other fruit, however: Gross's brief study of 1905 acknowledged his help. For fifty years it remained the dominant, if not the only work, because it went beyond recapitulation and extension of earlier ‘arithmetical’ analyses and discussed [[80]] the dramatic function and indeed the origin of stichomythia. Gross found the quality of the best stichomythiae to lie in the creation of ‘Pathos’ or excitement, and regarded them as in some way the form's justification. Where neither was generated – especially in Euripides, where stichomythiae are longest – Gross dismissed the form's use as an ugly mannerism: he echoed Page 4 of 12

On Stichomythia Wilamowitz' phrase ‘hässliche Manier’, p. 87 (it is interesting that Fraenkel's note on Ag. 1202– 14 uses the words ‘sad mannerism’). Hancock (1917) contributed a shorter but quite different study, chiefly on the use of particles, and linguistic and other devices, surveying all ancient drama, Platonic dialogue and drama of various literatures until, and especially, Shakespeare. His work on the compositional details of stichomythic dialogue has been taken further especially by Seidensticker, Gesprächsverdichtung (1969) 20–45 and Ireland (1975). In the 1920s there began in German scholarship a special interest in the nature and importance of form in tragedy which continues, strongly, to this day. Jens's Bauformen (1971) is a handbook to its results: in 1955 Jens had himself written the work which shaped the later study of stichomythia as forcibly as did Gross's for his own generation. Ludwig's Sapheneia (1954) has been similarly influential; while it takes in stichomythia, its wide scope argues the general clarity of structure and exposition in later Euripides, and seeks to demonstrate symmetry as a formal element in that clarity, in an apparent 19th century revivalism: Huggle (1958) is a follower, and more recently Biehl in the Appendices to his Teubner editions of Troades (1971) and Orestes (1975, cf. the analysis of episodes in his Commentary of 1965), and some articles (Helicon 6 (1966) 411–24; Hermes 101 (1973) 35–47 and 105 (1977) 159–75; Philologus 121 (1977) 301–5). Jens's conclusions relate to Aeschylus and Sophocles (in detail only for the four earlier plays, Aj., Trach., Ant., OT), but have been accepted as applicable in their method and implication for the study of all Greek tragedy by Schwinge and Seidensticker. Jens found: (1) a development in Aeschylus' use of stichomythia; in Pers. the form has ‘epic’ character and consists largely of question and answer, but from Suppl. on (Jens wrote before the publication of POxy 2256), it marks out the ground for decisions considered and made in subsequent rheseis by the protagonist; in the (p.21) Oresteia it increasingly has a linking function between the rheseis of main persons, and increasingly presents new initiatives – that is, stichomythia as a constituent of dialogue-episode becomes an instrument not only of expression but also of action; so it acquires movement. While it refers both back and forward, it remains for the most part tied to and subservient to rhesis, always the dominant formal feature of Aeschylean episodes. (2) Sophocles in his early plays is already loosening the severity of stichomythic structure (while lengthening such exchanges), and freeing it from subordination to rhesis by giving a greater dramatic role to dialogue. From Ant. on, dialogue, including stichomythia, often shows a change, indeed a reversal in the relationship of two persons; in OT, for example, dialogue is paramount and emphasised by the frequency of question and answer, [[81]] particularly in stichomythia. Jens asserted that stichomythia in late Sophocles not only continues to make real the impact of external happenings, but also to clarify especially the relationship between persons (one may comment there: an almost inevitable conclusion, given exactly the ‘personal’ focus of Phil. and OC). (3) The content and dramatic functions of stichomythia are already wide in Aeschylus, and neither Sophocles nor Euripides substantially broadens them. Jens established descriptive categories: information (straightforward, instructive, inquisitive; or from a Messenger); argument, including persuasion or entreaty; recognition; advice; action. (Such classification is symptomatic of studies of Bauformen, and over-tidy. It is often unreal to label passages of very varying length in the same simple way, and confusing to label the same passage in more than one way, although the second course is more accurate – but the attempt to describe content and function in more useful terms than Gross's ‘Pathos’ or excitement was important above all.) (4) The main technical devices of stichomythia are already all visible in Aeschylus. The most

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On Stichomythia prominent are (a) the use of particles in achieving fluency, but also in adding individuality or colour to extremely concentrated sentences (cf. the final words of Wilamowitz on Herc. 537, and see especially Hancock and Ireland); (b) ellipse or continuation across utterances of syntax, both maintaining and realistically varying tempo to offset the rhythmic monotony inherent in stichomythia; the device is specially common in Sophocles and Euripides (see Ireland again); (c) the use of theme-words, with carefully varied iteration, making for concentrated unity. (It is worth noting that these devices are indigenous and inseparable from stichomythia or similarly formal dialogue of all literatures and periods. There is linear influence in the historical sequence Greek tragedy – Senecan tragedy – Renaissance drama, especially Shakespeare and German drama: see, for example, Hancock and (p.22) E. Overbeck, Die Stichomythie im deutschen Drama (Renaissance und Klassizismus) (Göttingen, 1919). On the other hand the devices are visible in such independent phenomena as Middle High German epic of the 11th century and the antiphonals of the Christian Church. Whether Greek and Latin pastoral were influenced specifically by drama in their ‘competitive’ stichomythiae (e.g. Theocritus, Id. 4 stichomythic, Id. 5 distichomythic; Virgil, Ecl. 3 distichomythic, Ecl. 7 tetrastichomythic) is hard to know; Greek epic eschews stichomythia until Oppian, with the single exception of Theocritus, Id. 22, 55–73: see Gow's note. Schwinge and Seidensticker have worked in the main on the lines laid down by Jens. They remark the apparent paradox that the ‘conservative’ Sophocles breaks down stichomythia, while Euripides, despite experimentation within the traditional structures of tragedy, not only maintains stichomythia in its strictest form, but even extends its length, sometimes to more than one hundred verses. Schwinge (29ff.) classifies content by three principal types, persuasion, narrative/information, and realisation of stage-action. Seidensticker, Gesprächsverdichtung 46ff., offers a more complex classification by content (his index lists 18 varieties); but in treating all Greek tragedy and Seneca, he relates stichomythia to the whole play and assesses each passage as it retards, accompanies or promotes action (a classification applicable, [[82]] of course, to almost all elements, formal or not). Schwinge judges the appropriateness and success of each stichomythia, namely, whether Euripides does well in preferring this to free dialogue, or to any other form, in two main respects: (a) whether stichomythia ‘makes sense’ from the viewpoint of the actors or play-characters, because of their excitement, or because step-by-step persuasion is realistic only in this form, or because a dominantly narrative or informative stichomythia enables them to reach a specially determined objective or point in the action; (b) whether the form contributes to the poet's intended effect on his audience: here, Schwinge thinks, for example, of the very intense effect of stichomythic dialogue, convincingly and continuously exciting, from section to section, in arguments; or of the conscious or unconscious direction of a narrative stichomythia, especially where the audience in its greater knowledge may relish irony. Two further general observations by Schwinge and Seidensticker deserve note. First, both find that Euripides uses rhesis more extensively, stichomythia less, in his earlier plays, because of their inherent qualities as studies of the individual θυμός; the busier and populous plays afford more natural opportunities not only to stichomythia, but to its extended use: in these plays there are plausibly more conversations between informed and (p.23) ignorant persons, where recognitions are portrayed or, in ‘intrigue-drama’, information, advice or instruction given or deceptions carried out. Second, Schwinge argues that in later plays Euripides uses stichomythia expressly to show a human nature characterised by continuous and complete uncertainty (here he draws upon the role of Τύχη): wavering is evident from verse to verse, and stichomythia is indeed the appropriate vehicle.

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On Stichomythia (2) How convincing and useful are these results? It is clear that the development of stichomythia from Aeschylus to Euripides is now satisfactorily described in terms of form, content and technique, at least; the questions of function and appropriateness have been opened in a distinctively fresh way, in comparison with Wilamowitz' position, for example, or Gross's limited criteria of success. Has the problem of stichomythia's origin been left behind, except as a fascinating but purely antiquarian question? Because we can feel satisfied with our account of stichomythia, in the early plays of Aeschylus, need we speculate how far its character and use there or in later work were determined by its historical origin? The most commonly accepted theory of origin points to lyric antiphony, perhaps to epirrhematic, a primitive exchange of an individual with a choral voice (for the references see Garvie, Supplices): such an origin explains adequately, it is argued, the predominant character of stichomythia, either ‘lively and excited’ (Garvie) or ‘rapid, shifting altercation’ (Schadewaldt, Hellas und Hesperien, quoted below) – also, one could add, its informative or revelatory character (but such a hypothesis is little more than a variation upon a common theme, that the origin of all Greek tragic drama and its dialogue lay in the primitive exchange of κορυϕαȋος or ὑποκριτή ς with χορό ς). The question of origin is barely mentioned in the latest discussions (contrast Gross); and there is surprisingly [[83]] little on the precise question even in F.R. Adrados, Festival, Comedy and Tragedy (Leiden, 1975: English translation of the Spanish edition of 1972), a study of formal elements in Greek drama. No solution is likely to the problem, and it would hardly illuminate understanding of stichomythia anywhere in extant tragedy, least of all in late Euripides. That phase of his work has been in some part rehabilitated from the tradition of scorn begun by Wilamowitz and perpetuated by Gross and Fraenkel in the word ‘mannerism’. Schwinge and Seidensticker have done something, too, against the older charge of lack of ‘realism’, for which a passage from Greenwood, Aspects (1953) may stand as an example: … stichomythia seems relatively natural to us when it is used for the quick verbal exchanges of persons quarrelling with each other or (p.24) plotting eagerly together. But even here the undeviating regularity of the one line at a time … is impossible in real life or in any drama that aims at producing the illusion of real life … Whatever the reasons for the use of stichomythia in this [Med. 662–708] and many similar passages (the purpose is possibly to convey that eager interest on the part of the listener, which mask and costume made it impossible to convey by facial expression and bodily movements), it is clearly a thing which a realistic playwright would avoid. The positive in Greenwood's judgement (stichomythia at its most natural to the modern audience in arguments, above all those in an agon) has always been common ground for critics; and newer critics have it as similarly common ground that literal ‘realism’ is a prejudicial criterion of Greek tragedy (cf. the first paragraph of this paper). Everyone – audience and reader, and critics of Euripides at his most self-indulgent – nevertheless warms to Sophoclean ‘naturalism’ with dialogue that moves towards, forward in, and then out of stichomythia but seldom settles in it. And, however much is allowed to the traditional forms and ethos of tragedy, the longest stichomythia of Euripides remain difficult to explain functionally and aesthetically, as appropriate and peculiarly appropriate. What of this deeper dramatic function and meaning? There have been attempts to define the essence of stichomythia. Schadewaldt, Hellas und Hesperien:

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On Stichomythia It is above all remarkable, how the rapid, shifting altercation of stichomythia stands as an out-and-out ‘number’ in its own right beside the long speech, indeed in contrast to it. The action of tragedy depends on tension … between two chief elements of lyrically emotional choral song and rigorous, thinking dialogue of the individual actors. But the dialogue too is a unique tensional structure in itself. Everything is put in contrast here: contrast of worlds, contrast of claims manifested in the contrast of standpoints, of convictions, of opinions and lastly in the contrast of speeches. Everything rests on oppositions [Antinomien], expressed in opposing words [Antilogien] … Stichomythia is the sharpest expression of these opposing words (however much it may also be used for an account, divided into question and answer, especially in the older period and again in the latest).                    [my translation] [[84]] In this view, stichomythia is truest to its essence when its strongly stylised mode emphasises dramatically critical contrasts of two persons' thoughts, words and, potentially, actions. This is a more helpful definition than that (p.25) which rests content with the realism of the form in argument or eager conspiracy, for which I took Greenwood as an example; and it is a view shared by the other occasional commentators included in my brief bibliography. These critics stress the element of cross-examination, in the hope of persuading, or, conversely, with the counter-effect of resistance, or serving the poet's own intention of exposing; see Fraenkel, Agamemnon (1950): The way in which the very old device of stichomythia is here [vv. 1202–14] employed (in later tragedy it was to decay into sad mannerism) is characteristic of the art of Aeschylus at its maturest stage. Full advantage is taken of the process of a most intense διαλέγεσθαι. Several of these perfect stichomythia give us the impression that this is the only means of bringing to the surface experiences, anxieties, fears and hopes which in normal and coherent speech must needs remain hidden. The pressure of a determined interrogation seems to overcome the natural reserve of the person on whom it is brought to bear: he gradually gives way until a depth has been reached beyond which words are not allowed to probe. and Gould, ‘Dramatic character’ (1978): With stichomythia we must be careful. If we describe it to ourselves as ‘conversation’ or even as ‘dialogue’ in its everyday sense, then we ask to be misled as to its role in Greek drama. There is more of the nature of a law-court cross-examination, a catechism of the Inquisition even, in stichomythia than the casual exchange of small-talk: the very ceremoniousness of the exchange serves to create tension and precariousness of mood. Richmond Lattimore (Story Patterns in Greek Tragedy, 1964, 64f.) has reminded us how deeply persuasive speech is embedded in the nature of drama: ‘dramatic persons want their way. You cannot always get your way by merely insisting upon it, or by using main force. You must often have to persuade by reasoning, or by reason's persuasive counterfeit.’ And resistance to persuasion is the necessary counterpart to this: ‘part of dramatic action seems to consist in the shaking off of appeals.’ Here, then, is a part of the function of stichomythia … A uniquely appropriate means of exposing the inner person (Fraenkel); formality itself creating instability (Gould): these are judgements of dramatic mode and success encouragingly close. The one was earlier than the work of Jens, Schwinge and Seidensticker, the other later, yet all (p. 26) converge in defining cogently the quality, in manner and meaning and aptness to the stagePage 8 of 12

On Stichomythia moment, of precisely those stichomythiae which feel most successful to the audience or reader. The trouble is, there are not many stichomythiae of which the critics are so confident. A good few, usually of ‘middle’ length, vary in nature and intensity ' and conviction; into this category fall the ‘narrative’ and ‘informative’ exchanges pilloried by Wilamowitz. About these the ancient audience was likely not as sensitive as we; and it may be helpful [[85]] to compare the occasional faltering in the longer stichomythiae with the lapses of the ‘oral’ Homer: both are evident to the attentive reader, seldom worrying to the listener (or the theatre-goer). The longest Euripidean stichomythiae remain the most severe problem for both audience and reader: so often the virtuoso command of form seems more important to the poet than a more plausible (dare one say, ‘realistic’) variety to the dramatist, as the direction and stress of conversation change. Sophocles' so-called ‘naturalism’ is in point precisely in this respect, perhaps also comedy's – for comedy, as indeed one would expect, avoids rigid stichomythia for anything longer than a few verses, the longest sequences being Ach. 305–22 (distichomythia) & 1097–1113, Lys. 212–36 & 352–81 and Plu.162–79 – in all five places Aristophanes chooses and maintains the form for contextually obvious effect – and Menander, Per. 779ff. (intermittent), a paratragic recognition scene, where the ‘incongruity between poetic diction and familiar everyday background’ (Gomme–Sandbach) must be the poet's intention. The contrast between comedy and tragedy (Euripides, at least) in their use of stichomythia may seem, however, to support an argument that the ancient theatre was less insensitive to ‘realistic’ dialogue than is commonly held. The particular question raised by Schwinge ' whether stichomythia, rather than another form of dialogue, can be shown both peculiarly appropriate and successful, in all or a majority of cases – that question remains without convincing answer. Once more, Euripides' practice often defies apparent dramatic reason – and the striking idiosyncrasy may show Schwinge's question to be in the end unnecessary. For the question presupposes near-perfection in conception and realisation, of which no poet has ever been capable; and it does not allow enough to individual foible. A measure of self-indulgence should not be denied Euripides, or any artist, especially if Euripides' experience in the theatre showed him that the audience – if not the jury – appreciated his skill with stichomythia. His technical mastery of form in these longest stichomythiae, as in so much else, lies clear to view in the symmetries revealed by more than a century now of analysts. We need at least a closer engagement with the possible (p.27) implications of that symmetry: simply a self-satisfying search for proportion, or a clear and elegant structure to pace the listeners' appreciation? Or an index of balanced opposition between persons, in their ἤθη and διάνοια, in the way symmetry is generally believed to be an aid to the more directly contrived rhetorical contrasts of argument, in the agon? The circularity of exhaustion risks supervening upon this discussion; but it is a comfort that not even the most formal structure of tragedy can be reduced to mechanical criticism.

Endnote 2006 Referring to this article in his The Poetics of Greek Tragedy (London, 1987) 128–30, M. Heath picked up my sentence in its last-but-one paragraph on the final page: ‘A measure of selfindulgence should not be denied Euripides, or any artist, especially if Euripides' experience in the theatre showed him that the audience – if not the jury – appreciated his skill with stichomythia.’ Heath conveyed his impression that the sentence, right or wrong, somehow encapsulated my whole approach. I can say only that it did not; and I still believe that I was more right than wrong to use the word ‘self-indulgent’, because the three sentences which

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On Stichomythia precede it in the paragraph make it clear why it was so chosen. Heath's two or three sides are a good if brief general appreciation of stichomythia, with illustrative discussions. There have not been too many such appreciations since I wrote in 1980 (or I have not come across many), for most critics or commentators have been content to rely heavily upon the studies of Jens, Schwinge and Seidensticker, and to cite little else (my own paper seems mostly unknown outside the UK). I mention the following, however, to illustrate the greater variety of recent approaches, and perhaps to encourage further studies. R. Rehm, Greek Tragic Theatre (London & New York, 1992) 62–4 looks concisely and sensibly at stichomythia as an element of both dramaturgy and theatre; and I have found two very general accounts in student handbooks: M. Quijada, La Composicion de la Tragedia tardia di Euripides (Vitoria, 1991) 73–113 and M. Di Marco, La Tragedia Greca. Forma, gioco scenico, techniche dramatiche (Roma, 2000) 237–55. M. Bonaia, ‘L'antilabé nella tragedia greca antica’ in Studi … in Onore di Giusto Monaco (Palermo, 1991) I.173–88 has exhaustive statistical analyses of antilabe in both dialogue and lyric, but for evaluative commentary is content with the conclusions of R. Takebe, ‘ἀντιλαβαί in Greek tragedy’, JCS 16 (1968) 38–54 (inaccessible to me), namely that Sophocles uses the device for vivid portrayal of emotion, and Euripides to mark out the development of (p.28) intrigues (claims which I have not tested but which seem both general and partial). R. Rutherford, The Art of Plato (London, 1995) 11–12 interestingly correlates Platonic and dramatic dialogue, especially the shorter exchange preferred by Socrates and stichomythia. Good examples of stichomythia expressing dramatic intensity, and leading to individual dislocation, are given by M.S. Silk in ‘The Greek tragedians and Shakespeare’ in id. (ed.), Tragedy and the Tragic (Oxford, 1996) 458– 96, at 473–6 (from Choephori, Bacchae and Macbeth) and at 484–6 (Sophocles, OT 1167–85). A. Ercolani, Il passaggio di parola sulla scena tragica. Drama Beiheft 12 (2000) 20–1 has in n. 4 on p. 20 ‘La struttura convenzionale della sticomitia è così recostruibile: base d' apertura 〉 dialogo serrato con interventi simmetrici sulla base di un rapporto dato 〉 disticho conclusivo’ (on ̒symmetry: W. Biehl, mentioned on p. 20 above, pursued his searches in e.g. Euripides. Troades (Heidelberg, 1989) 485–98. I might have recorded there the ‘pedimental’ analyses of especially Aeschylean stichomythiae by J.L. Myres, PBA 34 (1948) 199–231, also published separately (Oxford, 1950). E. Dettori, L'interlocuzione difficile: corifeo dialogante nel dramma classico (Pisa, 1992) draws upon the terminology of Seidensticker in Bauformen to identify the various dramatic functions of exchanges between chorus and single actor, principally in Aeschylus where they are most common. Perhaps the most important and one of the most lengthy appreciations of stichomythic form to appear in recent years is found in D. Collins, Master of the Game. Competition and Performance in Greek Poetry (Cambridge, Mass., 2004): on pp. 3–9 he reviews definitions and characteristics, judging for example that ‘stichomythia ought to be analysable as a form of capping’ (p. 3) and stating that Gross's definition (1905, 5) is ‘sufficient for our purpose’ (pp. 4–5, with detailed bibliography); on pp. 92–9 he discusses ‘delicate verbal artistry’ chiefly in examples from Aeschylus, for on p. 3 he writes that ‘virtually the full range of stichomythic possibilities are attested in Aeschylus' other plays’ (he excludes the Prometheus); his pp. 44–53 consider ‘stichomythia and σκώμματα’ in Euripides' Cyclops, Aristophanes' Wealth and Plato's Euthydemus (cf. Rutherford above). I refer briefly to stichomythia in my ‘Colloquial language in tragedy: a supplement to the work of P.T. Stevens’, CQ 55 (2005) 350–86, at 352, 360 n. 16. My 1980 paper had been written before I could see D. Mastronarde, Contact and Discontinuity. Some Conventions of Speech and Action on the Greek Tragic Stage (Berkeley, 1979). The larger part of this book (pp. 6–97) assesses innumerable such moments of continuity and interruption in stichomythia, analysing techniques not just of dramaturgy but also of manipulative syntax. A Page 10 of 12

On Stichomythia particular phenomenon of this kind, the (alleged) ‘asides’ in (p.29) Euripides, IA 653 and 1132, 1140, had been discussed for stichomythia by D. Bain, Actors and Audience (Oxford, 1977) 48– 55. For individual tragedians, it is striking that since 1980 the most extended discussions of stichomythia have been for Aeschylus: T.G. Rosenmeyer, The Art of Aeschylus (Berkeley, 1982) 201–6 covers all the plays; A.N. Michelini, Tradition and Dramatic Form in the Persians of Aeschylus (Leiden, 1982) includes much material on stichomythia in both iambic trimeters (especially 32, 35–40, 59 n. 50) and trochaic tetrameters (42–51), particularly in Aeschylus but also in later tragedy. In the original paper I should have noted M. Griffith, The Authenticity of the Prometheus Bound (Cambridge, 1977), especially 136–42, again particularly for Aeschylus but with useful matter for later tragedy; and O. Taplin, Stagecraft in Aeschylus (Oxford, 1977) 462–3 on the proportions of actor–chorus to actor–actor dialogues in stichomythia, in relation to dramatic need. A.M. Taragna, ‘Forme di connessione all’ interno delle sticomitie: descrizione ed interpretazione', Atti del secondo incontro internazionale di linguistica greca ed. E. Banti (Trento, 1997) 315–41 analyses the stichomythiae Septem 254–63 and Agamemnon 931–43. See now particularly Dettori (above) and Collins, Master of the Game (above). Lastly here are some individual assessments of stichomythiae, mostly by commentators on single plays, which go beyond reliance upon Schwinge or Seidensticker: Aeschylus: Septem Hutchinson on 257–63 (reversals of domination by one speaker), 1042–53 (devices and conceits – but the lines are deemed inauthentic); Supplices Friis Johansen-Whittle on 291–324; Prometheus Griffith on 36–87, 609–30, 742–81, 964–87, 970 (Griffith's treatment of stichomythia in the play in his Authenticity (above) is reviewed by D.J. Conacher, Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound. A literary commentary (Toronto, 1980) 149–55). Sophocles: the principal study, but which hardly looks beyond this one poet and his plays, is S. Pfeiffer-Petersen, Konfliktsstichomythien bei Sophokles. Funktion und Gestaltung. Serta Graeca 5 (Wiesbaden, 1996); also, Griffith on Antigone 526–81, 726–65. Euripides: Gould, Myth etc. (p. 17 above), 42–55 on Medea 324–89 and Hippolytus 313–52 (on the latter cf. also pp. 98–9); J. Diggle, Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford, 1981) 110–11 (breaks in stichomythia) and Euripidea (Oxford, 1994) 501–2 (‘suspensions of utterance’); M. Lloyd, The Agon in Euripides (Oxford, 1992) has general and particular discussions of stichomythia in agon scenes. Two dissertations: T. Edwards, A study of dramatic language and form in the stichomythia of the late plays of Euripides and (p.30) the dialogues of Menander (University of Kent at Canterbury, 1975); L. Schuren, Nanatological and pragmatic studies in Euripidean stichomythia (University of Oxford, in preparation 2006). Alcestis F. Nenci (Napoli, 2003) 211–16 has both general remarks on Euripides and analyses of the stichomythiae in the play. Medea Mastronarde on 1361–78. Hippolytus Halleran on 88–120, 311–61 (overall structure), 1038–1101 (distichomythia). Andromache Lloyd on 896–920 and 919 (supplication scenes). Hecuba Collard on 953–1022; J. Mossman, Wild Justice (Oxford, 1995) 67–8 on 1252– 84; Gregory on 247–50 (picking up of words), 1259 (self-interruption). Hercules Barlow or Bond on 1109–45; Bond on 717 (interrupted syntax), 1141 (devices of pause or continuation). Phoenissae C. Mueller-Goldingen, Untersuchungen zu den Phoenissen des Euripides (Wiesbaden, 1985) 84–7 on 385–426, and 120–4 on 712–47; Mastronarde on 388–407, 410 (‘filler-lines’), 710–11 (irregularities), 712–47. Iphigenia in Aulide Stockert on 317ff., 696ff.

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On Stichomythia For Seneca see Tarrant on Agamemnon 145ff. (references to stichomythia in Reformation drama), Thyestes 204–19 (gnomic character). Addendum Both in the original article and in the Endnote 2006 I had overlooked C.O. Zanetti, ΣTIXOMΥΘIA, RIFC 49 (1921) 42–56. This article offered minute ‘arithmetical’ analysis of all tragic stichomythiae into constituent quatrains, or more commonly pairs, of verses which are interdependent in sense; despite its age, it may provide working help for such promising new approaches as M. Dubischar's ‘“Microstructure” in Greek tragedy: from bad to worse – wrong guesses in Euripidean stichomythiae (including a comparison of Aeschylus and Sophocles)’ published in Mnem. 60.1 and 60.2 (2007); he examines small set-pieces within stichomythiae which consist of ‘one speaker's false guess (or guesses) before he (or she) learns the truth’, and exemplifies especially Med. 1293–1310, Hipp. 790–801, Hec. 658–87, Tro. 706–20, Alc. 507–18, 773–822.

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

On the Tragedian Chaeremon Journal of Hellenic Studies 90 (1970) 22–34 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0003

Abstract and Keywords An assessment of this misty but apparently innovative 4th Century tragedian, consisting in description of the fragments and secondary evidence, particularly remarks of Aristotle about Chaeremon's graphic but precise manner, making his plays suitable for declamation and acting; subjects of the known plays; appreciation of poetic style and metre; detailed notes on the two longest fragments. Keywords:   Chaeremon, 4th Century Tragedy, fragmentary remains, innovator, graphic style

Preliminary note 2006 The original article was most unlucky in its timing: I completed it in 1969 and had already returned a proof when I first learnt of Prof. Bruno Snell's imminent edition of Chaeremon in Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta I (19711) and his simultaneously revised appreciation of the poet in Szenen aus griechischen Dramen (Berlin, 1971) 158–69; we exchanged correspondence and he was kind enough to mention my article in both books. While much new work has since been done upon Chaeremon, my article seems to have held its place, and I judge it most practical here to correct errors; to revise, replace or delete some superannuated matter; and to revise and update references in the text, particularly to TrGF. In this intention I have deleted many of the original footnotes or transferred some of their content to the main text. An ‘Endnote 2006’ offers a detailed bibliographical supplement. Chaeremon is a shadowy figure in mid-fourth century tragedy,1 but one of considerable interest. I attempt here an appraisal of his work, insofar as the fragments and the ancient testimonia allow.

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon I. Bibliography (revised 2006) Fragments: TrGF vol. 1 (19711, ed. B. Snell; 19862, ed. R. Kannicht) 71 T 1–5 (adding T 3a and F **lc in 1986, with addenda and conigenda in vol. 5.2 [2004], 1112), F 1–43; German transi., with some notes, by B. Gauly u.a., Musa Tragica (Göttingen, 1991) 154–67, 289–90. (p.32) In 1970 I was able to cite only nineteenth-century works of any extent which offered general appreciations of Chaeremon, principally H. Bartsch's pamphlet De Chaeremone poeta tragico (Mainz, 1843), which was however at that time inaccessible to me (a most worthy paper for its day, which I now find anticipated the design of my own and was very detailed). Other literature had been listed by A. Dieterich s.v. ‘Chairemon’, RE III.2.2025 (publ. 1899). In the twentieth century there was a brief discussion by K. Ziegler s.v. ‘Tragoedia’, RE 2e Reihe XII.1966 (publ. 1937) and a supplement to Dieterich by F. Stoessl, RE Supp. X. 124–5 (publ. 1965). T.B.L. Webster discussed mainly two plays in ‘Fourth century tragedy and the Poetics’, Hermes 82 (1954) 302f., partly reproduced in Art and Literature in Fourth Century Athens (London, 1956) 66f. Subsequent to my 1970 paper I have found these general treatments of note: B. Snell (above); G.A. Seeck, in id. (ed.), Das griechische Drama (Darmstadt, 1975) 188–90; C. Mueller-Goldingen, Studien zum antiken Drama. Spudasmata 106 (Hildesheim, 2005) 67–8, 88–96. Some plays and fragments, and separate aspects of Chaeremon's work, have been studied incidentally elsewhere, sometimes at considerable length, and I note these either below where appropriate or, mostly, in my ‘Endnote 2006’. II. Extent of the fragments; their sources and character TrGF has more than forty fragments preserving one or more verses, almost all quotations in ancient authors, which give a total of about 75 lines. All are iambic trimeters, except the dactylic acrostic F 14b and possibly the corrupt F 41, and come, we may assume, from dialogue, not lyric. The Contribution of papyrus

Papyrus has added little to our texts. The best-known fragment, no. 2, stands in an ostracon of the second century AD published by P. Collart in CRAI (1945) 249–58 (=Pack2 no. 2656), but it is cited from Euripides and not Chaeremon. The new F 42 (formerly bur. fr. 944a Nauck–Snell) was identified in PBodmer 26, Men. Aspis 425–6 by E.W. Handley, BICS 16 (1969) 104. F 14b = PHibeh ii.224 (ed. E.G. Turner, 1955; = Pack2 no. 1613), of 280–250 BC: it is a small fragment of a gnomic anthology, containing in the left–hand column the very ends of iambic trimeters (16 vv.), in the right the beginning of hexameters (8 vv. are identifiable). The start of the second column, before which there is [[23]] an empty space even in the fragmentary (p.33) papyrus, refers to Chaeremon. R. Kannicht recognised the acrostic XAIPHM [in lines 2–6: see TrGF. The lines are supplemented exempli gratia by M.L. West, ZPE 26 (1977) 37. Turner had suggested that the ‘heading’ introduced quotations from the Centaurus, known from Arist. Po. 1447b20 to have contained hexameters. All six legible line-beginnings indicate self-contained gnomic hexameters, resembling many of the gnomic trimeters (F 2, 18–20, 22–30, 32–5, 37, 38). These further scraps add little to the recoverable impression of Chaeremon as a poet, but see section IV below on the Centaurus.

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon [Note: the ‘Oeneus’ papyrus. Webster suggested that an early third-century BC papyrus (Hibeh i. 4 = Pack2 no. 1708), hesitantly attributed to Euripides' Oeneus on the conjectural identification of a speaker with Diomedes, is in a style ‘certainly not impossible for Chaeremon’.2 The fragmentary text, in which 10 out of some 60 lines are reasonably complete, covers the end of one iambic episode and the start of another; in between there stands the bare indication χοροὓ μέλος: the ode, which would have been supplied at performance, was both inconsequential to the plot and independent of it, according to the theatrical tendency of the fourth century. The implication of this παρεπιγραφή is that the play is probably not Euripidean, otherwise the end of the episode would be followed by a ‘regular’ choral ode. We know nothing at all of the nature of Chaeremon's lyrics, and no rejection may be made for him like that for Euripides. Even if this implication is ignored, the presumable dramatic context adds nothing to the argument for Euripides' Oeneus, of which our fragments (F 558–70) are meagre enough.3 Yet these few verses are very Euripidean in style: the number of Euripidean echoes in vocabulary and phrasing is so striking that if the author was not after all Euripides the attribution to Chaeremon is no more probable than to Sophocles.4 The main echoes are: PHibeh i.4 fr. a 3 τέλο]ς γάρ τῶν ἐμῶν λόγων ἔχεις: Hec. 413 τέλος δέχῃ τῶν … ἐμῶν προσφθεγμάτων. fr. a 4 πρȃξιν ὁρμήσω ποδί: F 910.4 εἰς ἀδίκους πράξεις ὁρμῶν; IT 1407 ὡρμήθη ποσίν; cf. Or. 1289. fr. a 5–6 δωρήματα | ὅπως γένηται κἀποπληρωθῇ τάφος: Or. 122 ἃ δ εἰς ἀδελφὴν καιρὸς ἐκπονεȋν ἐμήν, | ἅπανθ᾽ ὑπισχνοῦ νερτέρων δωρήματα. fr. a 7 ἀγώνων τῶν κεκαλλιστευμένων: for the rare middle cf. Med. 947 δῶρ᾽ ἅ καλλιστεύεται. fr. a 8 τυράννοις ἀνδράσιν: Med. 308, 700; Supp. 166. fr. a 20 τί ποτ᾽ ἄρα: cf. Ba. 639, Ion 342 (ms. L only); Ba. 894, Rhes. 135. fr. b 28 ἀθῷος: vox Euripidea (Med. 1300, Ba. 672, fr. 675). (p.34) fr. g 47 ἀπεμπολῶσιν: vox Euripidea: Ion 1371, IT 1360, Tro. 973, Pho. 1228. fr. g 48 πρός σε δεξιᾶς χερός: IT 1068, IA 909; cf. Hipp. 605. So many reminiscences in so few verses disprove entirely attribution to Chaeremon. Inevitably there are echoes in him from earlier tragedy, but he is never the simple heir to another's style, much less a plagiarist. The two longer fragments, nos. 1 and 14, show him writing in an unmistakably individual way. My conviction that PHibeh i.4 is not by [[24]] Chaeremon is not weakened by the absence from his remains of any strictly comparable iambic dialogue; even the gnomic fragments are recognisably not Euripidean in manner; in the tonal imagery of their descriptions the two poets display fundamentally differing artistic sensibilities. The ‘Oeneus’ papyrus is now adesp. 625 in TrGF vol. 2.]

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon Sources and character of the fragments

The fragments in content and character very largely reflect the particular nature of the two almost exclusive sources, Stobaeus and Athenaeus. The 22 fragments in Stobaeus (16 unique to him) are without exception gnomic, but 12 of Athenaeus' 14 (13 unique) illustrate technical or stylistic points; two only are quoted for their matter. The few in other sources are quite typical of ancient quotations in their variety. This narrowly based selection shows the hazards of fragmentary preservation. Chaeremon's plays were primarily a stylistic quarry for the interests of Athenaeus and his predecessors, but no less important and rewarding for the anthologist of sententiae (our impression from Stobaeus is confirmed by F 14b = PHibeh ii.224). Probably the fragments illustrate simply extreme poles of the poet's work. The ‘middle’ – that is, the dramatic matter and the manner of its presentation in episode, rhesis, dialogue and possibly ode – is by some chance almost wholly unrepresented. The polarity found in Stobaeus and Athenaeus cannot, surely, be the whole Chaeremon. The excerpts of Euripides in Stobaeus would be no less difficult to reconcile just with a fragmentary selection from his richly imagined messenger speeches; his aphorisms look equally stark out of context. Nevertheless, it is odd that the selection of quotations from Chaeremon is so unbalanced in comparison with that from other tragedians. III. Testimonial Aristotle on Chaeremon There are two descriptive judgements surviving from antiquity of real consequence to an appraisal of Chaeremon; both are from Aristotle. (p.35) P. Lévêque5 tried to prove Aristotle's high regard for Agathon from the comparative number of times the tragedians are mentioned in the Poetics: Euripides 13, Sophocles 11, Agathon 5, Aeschylus 3, Chaeremon 2; he noted that Ion and Achaeus, the only other two poets whose fragments are at all numerous, are not named at all. Aristotle cites Chaeremon in both cases for unusual features of his work, but it is important for us to have the comments from so near a contemporary; I would prefer not to follow Lévêque in drawing any sort of conclusion from the number of citations, and Aristotle both disapproves of Chaeremon (Po. 1460a2) and approves (arguably: Rh.1413b12). The other ancient testimonia are of much less importance. Athenaeus' brief stylistic evaluation (608d), as also the one piece of epigraphic evidence (IG2 v 2, 118 = T 5, F la), and one vase painting of great interest (Boston 03.804 = F **lc), are more usefully discussed in other contexts than separately here. The brief article in the Souda (X 170 Adler = T 1) wrongly describes the poet as κωμικός, but gives the titles, not all correctly, of eight plays. Aristotle, Rh. 1413b2: Chaeremon ἀναγνωστικός

Aristotle illustrates the employment by the ἀναγνωστικοί of the graphic style, which in clarity of expression contrasts with the agonistic style's suitability for declamation or acting (1413b8–9 λέξις γραφικὴ μὲν ἡ ἀκριβεστάτη, ἀγωνιστικὴ δὲ ἡ ὑποκριτικωτάτη), by naming Chaeremon and the even more shadowy dithyrambic Licymnius.6 [[25]] The term ἀναγνωστικός implies no more than a stylistic judgement, that Chaeremon's plays were in Aristotle's opinion particularly suitable for reading, but not written solely or primarily for it: this was shown by O. Crusius.7 The remark accords with one of Aristotle's reasons for preferring tragedy to epic, that tragedy loses very little of its effect in reading rather than live performance (Po. 1462a12–18, 1450b18–19). Crusius's argument was supported by an inscription from Tegea recording the victory there in the second half of the third century of an

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon athlete actor with a number of plays, including Chaeremon's Achilles Thersitoctonus (F **lc: see section IV below). As much in point as Aristotle's alignment of Chaeremon with the ἀναγνωστικοί is his supplementary comment, which follows from the description of the λέξις γραφική, that he was ἀκριβής ὥσπερ λογογράφος, 1413b13. This remark in turn fits a previous assertion that speeches for a mass audience must resort more to the visual to be effective and less to rigorous clarity of verbal expression: that quality shows best in forensic (p.36) speaking particularly before a single judge – where, equally, histrionics are disadvantageous; the whole section 1414a8–16 concludes ἀλλ᾽ ὅπου μάλιστα ὑπόκρισις, ἐνταῦθα ἥκιστα ἀκρίβεια ἔνι. Chaeremon's ἀκρίβεια is essentially that of a λογογράφος who writes with precision for the close reasoning of the law-court judge.8 We would expect to find in the surviving fragments something at least of the attention to detail and order hinted in Aristotle's remark. Although only F 1 and 14 afford material enough to make the test, F 14 reveals just this quality in description: girls dancing are severally pictured, with careful, almost over-careful, detail of the parts of their bodies uncovered by their movements (w. 1–11); the flowers in the meadow where they collapse in sleep are chosen for the opportunity of emphasising the quality of their colours (vv. 12–15). Aristotle, Po. 1447b20–2, 1459b32–1460a2: Chaeremon's Centaurus

The title of this play is in an obvious way appropriate to Aristotle's Statement that it was a μικτὴ ῥαψῳδία ἐξ ἁπάντων τῶν μέτρων (47b22; cf. 60a2: both = F 9a). G.F. Else argued in 1963 that it was a satyric drama of unconventional form: it had no room for choral odes, but in some sense Chaeremon compensated for ‘this loss of visual and musical variety by extreme ποικιλία in his verses’.9 Just possibly the metrum Chaeremonium recorded in TrGF as F 43 (no Greek example given, but illustrated from Latin verse) featured in the play; though described in the source as ‘pentametrum hypercatalecticum’ and scanned in TrGF as 2 ia | | ia sp | ia ba I, it appears to be the coupling of an iambic tetrameter catalectic (West, Greek Metre 42, 92f.) with a catalectic dimeter (West 152). Although Aristotle thought the mixture ἀτοπώτερον (60al), he seems to have chosen this strange poetical product as a specially good illustration of one of his main themes, that the pre-eminence of tragic μίμησις could be unaffected by the loss of visual or musical effects (cf. 50b19–20). Particularly m the Centaurus, then, our scrappy fragments can only frustrate our curiosity: from this δρᾶμα πολύμετρον (it is termed this by Athen. 608e before he cites F 10) we have only five iambic trimeters (F 10, 11) and the beginnings of a few hexametric sententiae (F 14b). [[26]] IV. The subjects of the plays We have the names of nine plays, ultimately from Athenaeus (see T 1), and opinion has hardened that only Centaurus was satyric. Alphesiboea (F 1). Tragic, dealing with the revenge on Alcmaeon by his deserted wife, Alphesiboea; see below, section VII. (p.37) Achilles Thersitoctonus (F 1a, *1b, **1c, 2, 3). Thersites insulted the body of the dead Penthesilea and taunted Achilles with his love for her, who then slew Thersites; Diomedes tried to avenge his grandfather, but a fatal conflict with Achilles was prevented by the Atreidae; Achilles was later purifed of the killing: Chaeremon's plot fell within this outline, and satyric

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon form is unlikely.10 The episodes may be depicted on an Apulian vase of c.330, Boston 03.804 (F **1c and apparatus). See Endnote 2006. Dionysus (F 4–7). Assumed by Nauck to have had the same plot as Euripides' Bacchae, since F 4 indicates that Pentheus' συμφορά was dramatised; before Chaeremon also Thespis' Pentheus (1 T 1 and 8), Aeschylus' Pentheus (F 183), with the episode at least mentioned in his Xantriae (F 168–72b), and Iophon's Bacchae (22 T 1 and 4, F 2). Thyestes (F 8). The Thyestes-Atreus myth was among the most frequently dramatised:11 we may assume of Chaeremon's play perhaps only that it was not satyric, and cannot know whether he chose Thyestes' adultery, the gruesome banquet of his children, or his violation of his daughter. Io (F 9). The mention of flowers in the single fragment suggests that some part of the work played in the vale of Argos where Io was born to the river-god Inachus (A. Supp. 539), and where, presumably, Hera's vengeful transformation occurred: this was the substance of Sophocles' plot in his Inachus, a satyr-play (F 269a–295: see Radt's introduction for bibliography upon its nature) – but it does not follow that Chaeremon's play must also have been satyric. C.W.Müller, RhM 129 (1986) 154 speculates that Chaeremon may have introduced or developed the erotic element in the later myth, in which Io provokes Argos' love, causing him to neglect his guard and draw Hermes' punishment, and so secures her release from this torment at least. [[27]] [paragraph revised from 1970] Centaurus (F 9a, 10, 11, 14b [see TrGF 12]). Satyric (see section III above). The name-character was almost certainly Chiron, instructing in his mountain cave the young Achilles (inferred from the gnomic content of F 14b). A scene from a satyr-play with both persons, quite possibly Chaeremon's, may be paraphrased in Dio Chrys. Or. 58.1–2. The fragments give no other indication of content, [paragraph revised from 1970] Minyae (F 12, 12a?). The plot featured the Argonauts (‘descendants’ of Minyas: Pind. Pyth. 4.122 and schol., etc.); F 12a refers to their sailing close to the tormented Prometheus in Chaeremon's play, but nothing else about its content may be concluded. [paragraph revised from 1970] Odysseus (F 13). A tragedy with probably the same plot as Sophocles' Odysseus Acanthoplex or Niptra12 (F 453–61): Odysseus is slain in ignorance (p.38) by his son Telegonus. The story was familiar throughout literature after the sixth-century epic Telegonia. Oeneus (F 14). Treating probably the dispossession of Oeneus of his kingdom by his brother Agrius and restoration by his grandson Diomedes (as probably in Euripides' Oeneus F 558–70). See below, section VII. To summarise: of the nine known titles, only Centaurus was certainly satyric; four plays, Alphesiboea, Thyestes, Odysseus and Oeneus, were almost certainly tragic, and it is fairly safe to presume the same of Achilles, Dionysus and Minyae; the Io's nature remains unknown. There is evidence for earlier treatment of almost all the plots: perhaps only in Achilles and Centaurus did Chaeremon break wholly new ground. Most of Chaeremon's plays contain lively and exciting incidents, which would have lent themselves to forceful dramatic and theatrical effects and vivid description in both rhesis and messenger speech: the revenge of Alphesiboea on Alcmaeon; the quarrel of Achilles and Thersites, and the thwarted revenge of Diomedes; Telegonus' tragic killing of his father Page 6 of 20

On the Tragedian Chaeremon Odysseus; the strange misfortunes of Io; or the ghastly ones of Thyestes. The poet clearly shared with the other early fourth-century dramatists the strong influence of Euripidean theatre, and also the contemporary attempt to outdo Euripides' colours and effects.13 In Aristotle's eyes he seems to have had some success: though Aristotle does not mention in the Poetics the quality of Chaeremon's οικονομία and disapproves of the metrical experimentation of the Centaurus, his plays were not yet such a surrender to the demands of actors for ever more striking opportunities for display (Po. 1461b27ff., Rh. 1403b33) that their dramatic composition was inferior: Aristotle chose rather Carcinus to illustrate the danger of a poet not ‘seeing’ his plays as he writes (Po. 1455a22ff). Moreover, Chaeremon is the dramatist Aristotle selects, and by implication approves, to exemplify a special quality of tragedy as a poetic form: even when it is removed from its proper theatrical setting and read rather than performed, its effectiveness is maintained. V. Style; figures, imagery and diction; derived and original elements For an assessment we must rely on the ‘poetic’ rather than the ‘gnomic’ fragments; for the polarity see section II above, at end, and cf. especially Mueller-Goldingen (section I: Bibliography, and my Endnote 2006). I leave F 1 and 14 for fuller discussion in section VII below – and both of these longer pieces were quoted by Athenaeus for their general character rather than particular points or figures. [[28]] Metaphor is the most common figure, m conformity with the rhetorical tendencies of both poetic and prose styles of Chaeremon's day.14 In our few (p.39) fragments human relationships especially are applied to natural objects or plants. Flowers are often associated with spring in verse from Homer on (Il. ii.89, h.Hom.xix.17, PV 455), and Chaeremon makes them its children, F 9 ἀνθηροῦ τἒκνα | ἒαρος; in F 13 roses are the ‘offspring of the seasons’15 and ‘nursling of the spring’;16 in F 10 they are the ‘children of the meadows’ and the association again has precedents (Il. ii. 467, E. IA 1296–9). Ivy, wreathed on the thyrsus, is ‘lover of the dance’,17 but also ‘child of the year’, in F 5. The child metaphor is not new, only most of Chaeremon's variations.18 στέφανοι are ἀγγέλους εὐφημίας in F 6 and εὐφημίας | κήρυκας in F 11 – but metaphorical ἄγγελος starts in Theogn. 549 ἄγγελος ἄφθογγος (a beacon). Flowers form a ‘boundless army without spears’, F 10.1–2 ἀπείρονα στρατòν | ἀνθέων ἄλογχον – but again parts of the whole metaphor can be traced in earlier writers: ἄστρων δορύπυρον στρατόν Page, PMG no. 962 (dithyr.); έριβρóμου νεφέλας στρατòς ἀμείλιχος (sc. ὄμβρος) Pind. Pyth. vi.3; for ἀπείρων cf. Il. xxiv.776 δμος, Hes. Sc. 472, A. F 379.2; Chaeremon's ἄλογχος at F 10.2, however, is a literary hapax.19 The use of σῶμα in F 17.2 ὒδωρ ποταμού σῶμα goes beyond the familiar periphrasis20 because both terms of the comparison are stated in order to make intelligible an otherwise striking enigma (ποταμοῦ σῶμα: see Nauck on Choerilus fr. 2, p. 719). The expression òπώρα Κύπριδος in F 12.1 to indicate the acme of sexual potency (here in young men)21 echoes Pind. Isth. ii.5 Ἀφροδίτας … ἀδίσταν ὀπώραν (also of a youth); of girls, A. Supp. 998, 1015 τέρειν᾽ ὀπώρα.22 In F 14.11 the metaphor ὣρας γελώσης appears new; other metaphors at 14.5 and 10. Simile: one only, F 1.5–6, from sculpture, partly original.

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon Imagery in general: Chaeremon has a marked interest in colour, and shading: F 1.4 contrast of blush and white complexion, F 8 red and white flowers, F 14.5–6, 14–15 light and shade. I suggest below (section VII) that his imagination was prompted by contemporary developments in painting, and he seems to have been in general responsive to art (sculpture F 1.5–6, painting F 14.5) and nature, particularly flowers (as Athenaeus 608d noted); he clearly delighted in physical beauty, and observed it closely, F 1, 14.1–11. 29 Diction: other echoes: F 7 κισσῷ τε ναρκίσσῳ τε †τριέλικας κύκλῳ (κύκλους Nauck) | στεφάνων ἑλικτῶν has a partial precedent in E. Ph. 652 κισσὸς … περιστεφὴς ἑλικτός (cf. S. OC 683–5); another pairing of obviously associated flowers in F 8 ῥόδον and κρίνον (Hdt. i.195.2; cf. AP ix.384.11), but for ὀξύς of colour F 8 ῥόδ᾽ ὀξυφεγγῆ cf. Ar. Pax 1173 (a brilliant purple garment).23 (p.40) Lexical peculiarities: hapax legomena: ἄλογχος F 10.2, ἐξεπισφραγίζω F 14.10, καλλίχειρ F 14.7, κηρόχρως F 1.5, μελανόφυλλος24 F 14.13, ὀξυφεγγής F 8, ῥιζοφοίτητος F 39.2, σεληνόφως F 14.1, τριέλιξ F 7.1; nine instances in 75 iambic trimeters are surprisingly many; unique or earliest uses: ἡλιώδης 14.14 (next in Philostr. Imag. i.6), θέαμα 14.4 in active sense, ‘gaze’, πτερόν 14.13 ‘petal’ (‘leafy branch’, S. F*23.3 – not, as Pearson, ‘wings of the wind’). It is striking that most of these rare locutions occur in the only extensive fragments: may we assume that Chaeremon's descriptive style was always and evenly so coloured? Other stylistic features

Assonance: F 7 κισςῷ τε ναρκίσσωῳ τε, F 12.1 πολλὴν ὀπώραν Κύπριδος εἰσορᾶν παρῆν; with antithesis F 15 σοφίαν, ἀμαθίαν, εὐβουλίαν, 25 πρὶν γὰρ φρονεȋν εὖ καταφρονεȋν ἐπίστασαι. Rhyme: F 14.4 θεάμασιν, 5 ὄμμασιν. Repetition: F 1.2 †χρώματι, 4 χρώματι, 5 κηρόχρωτος. ‘Staccato’ asyndeton (with antithesis): F 15 γέλωτα, σοφίαν, ἀμαθίαν, εὐβουλίαν. Paronomasia: F *4 Πενθεὺς ἐσομένης συμφορᾶς ἐπώνυμος. General comment on ‘style’

Our fragmentary selection from Chaeremon's work depends on deliberate quotations in ancient authors and is quite dissimilar to that of an author whose work we know almost entirely through the very different fortunes of survival in papyrus. The selection is therefore inevitably uneven stylistically and may well be more unrepresentative than we would like to believe; we have already noted the consequences to any attempt at a general appraisal of our almost total dependence on Stobaeus and Athenaeus and their very different aims in choosing illustrative quotations. Nevertheless, it seems safe to think of Chaeremon as a conscious, perhaps selfconscious stylist, intent on colourful and evocative description. He seems to have sought deliberately rarer locutions and introduced very many of his own invention. He is not shy of contemporary rhetorical fashion in the frequent employment of figures, to a degree we find exaggerated. The ‘gnomic’ fragments, many of them pithy and compressed, show an easy command of aphorism; it may be permissible to imagine that his dialogue was constantly enlivened by them, holding the audience's interest and offering the actors no less a chance for their skill and display than the longer speeches: and both served exciting plots full of incident and theatrical opportunity.

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon (p.41) VI. The iambic trimeter in Chaeremon Prosody: there are no irregular quantities, and only one example of synizesis, in the first longum of 10.2 (ἀνθέων). εἶδος Σοφοκλεȋον: 21.1 has ὅ τι at the end of the line.25 Caesura: there are 74 lines where the place may be established: 52 have caesura after second anceps (only one over elision), 22 after second breve. [[30]] Porson's Law is observed; the rhythm (x-) (⏑-) at verse-end occurs only in 30, 35; (-⏑) (-⏑-) occurs only in 14.8. Resolutions (total, 30): 5 ‘first foot’ anapaests, all ‘within’ polysyllables, no proper names; 7 ‘second foot’ tribrachs; 10 ‘third foot’ dactyls, in 10 cases across caesura; 6 ‘fourth foot’ tribrachs. Five verses have two resolutions, though never with an anapaest.26 There is never resolution across word-end. The frequency of resolution, of about 40 instances in every 100 verses (30 in the surviving 75), is a little higher than that of late Euripides, 35–8,27 and would seem to confirm the opinion of Müller28 that the poetae minores of the late Peloponnesian War and after maintained and perhaps increased slightly this freedom. In all respects, Chaeremon's trimeter conforms to the regular practice of Attic tragedy. VII. The two longer fragments, 1 and 14 Athenaeus at 608a introduces a new topic of conversation for his dinner-sophists, female beauty, and illustrates it at once with Chaeremon's sensuous description of maidens dancing by moonlight and then collapsing in sleep in a flowery meadow (F 14). In the ms. tradition this quotation is followed at 608d with the words ἐπικατάφορος δὲ ὢνὁ ποιητής οὗτος καιἐπὶ τὰ ἄνθη ἐν Ἀλφεσιβοίᾳ φησίν as the lemma to seven verses from Chaeremon's play (F 1) – but the lines contain no mention of flowers, only a second description of a beautiful woman; the poet's fondness for flowers is fully illustrated only in the subsequent quotations in 608d–f (F 9, 10, 5, 13, 8, 12). The theme of κάλλος is resumed at 608f, with a fresh headline έπί κάλλει δέ. There is, I think, quite a simple explanation of the discrepancy between the lemma and the content of F 1. Since it concerns beauty and not flowers, it must originally have followed at once on F 14, the headline illustration to the new topic of κάλλος. It would have been introduced by the regular formula in Athenaeus' successive quotations from the same author, ἐν δὲ Ἀλφεσιβοίᾳ φησίν.29 The words ἐπικατάφορος δὲ ὢν ὁ ποιητὴς οὗτος καὶ ἐπὶ (p.42) τὰ ἄνθη are the displaced introduction to a short digression of the kind Athenaeus can never resist in order to air his curious learning, and we may assume that after ἐπὶ τὰ ἄνθη he went on ἐν τῇ Ἰοȋ ἔαρος τέκνα προσηγόρευε. It is easy to find comparable displacements: of quotations, e.g. 660a, 676b; of lemmata, e.g. 645e, 650e–651a, 663a (referring to 662f), 666e.30 (On F 1 and its lemma in Athenaeus, see also my Endnote 2006, p. 54 below.) Text and commentary

Fragment 1 (Athenaeus 608d), from Alphesiboea: καὶ σώματος μὲν †ὄψεις κατειργάζετο† στίλβοντα λευκῷ †χρώματι διαπρεπῆ†· αἰδὼς δ᾽ ἐπερρύθμιζεν ἠπιώτατον ἐρύθημα λαμπρῷ προστιθεȋσα χρώματι· [[31]]

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon 5 κόμαι δέ, κηρόχρωτος ὡς ἀγάλματος αὐτοῖσι βοστρύχοισι ἐκπεπλασμένου, ξουθοῖσιν ἀνέμοις ἐνετρύφων φορούμεναι. Attempts to heal vv. 1 and 2 are recorded in Nauck; nothing is given in the new TrGF vol. 1 (but see vol. 5.1112 and my Endnote 2006). 5 Wilamowitz (and Kaibel): κηρόχρωτες Ath. 6 Meineke: ἐκπεπλασμένοι Ath. 7 Hermann: φορούμενοι Ath. ‘(?She) made her body's appearance brilliant to the eye, her white skin gleaming (text and translation quite uncertain). Modesty brought a most delicate blush to her fine complexion and harmonized it; and her hair, like that of a waxen statue with sculpted tresses and all, glowed with luxuriant colour, borne along by the breeze.’ Most probably the theme of the play was the revenge on her husband Alcmaeon by the deserted Alphesiboea, a version of a myth which in the form adopted by Sophocles and Euripides told of punishment by the second wife Callirhoe. The first wife is sometimes named Arsinoe,31 but plays entitled Alphesiboea are known by Timotheus, Achaeus (20 F 16) and Accius. Our fragment describes a ‘blushing beauty’ in the open air; possibly this was (in a messenger speech?) Callirhoe, daughter of the river-god Achelous, who displaced Alphesiboea. It is most unlikely that Chaeremon here gave a unique (and satyric?) dramatisation of the seduction of the nymph Alphesiboea by Dionysus in the guise of a tiger on the banks of the Tigris (pseudo-Plutarch Mor. 1165d = VII p. 325.22 Bernadakis). 1–2: irremediably corrupt, but apparently describing the luminous quality of the whole body's appearance, while 3–4 particularise facial colour and 5–7 the hair. Perhaps a whole verse has dropped out which once (p.43) contained a noun for στίλβοντα, though both this and διαπρεπῆ are easy to emend, e.g. to στίλβουσα and διαπρεπής, and ὄψις is tempting: Thuc. vii.44.2 τὴν ὄψιν τοῦ σώματος (in moonlight: cf. F 14 below). The clear whiteness of a woman's skin is a frequent motif from Epic (e.g. Il. xi.573) on, but στίλβω is usually applied to the sheen of an athlete's oiled body (Od. vi.237, Achaeus 20 F 4.3). 3–4: ἐπερρύθμιζεν: the compound also Pl. Lg. 802b, variant in Luc. Pisc. 12; ῥυθμίζω metaph. PV 241, S. Ant. 318, E. Hec. 924. ἐρύθημα has medical associations: ‘fevered flush’ Aph. vii.49, Thuc. ii.49.2 – as also ἤπιος of a mild fever, Hp. Epid. vii.1, v.73. λαμπρῷ: not a loose synonym for λευκῷ, and implying rather more than in our ‘clear complexion’: so, e.g. Thuc. vi.54.2 Ἁρμοδίου ὥρᾳ ἡλικίας λαμπροῦ. 5–7: κηρόχρωτος (hapax): Wilamowitz' correction is confirmed by e.g. Pl. Tht. 197d κήρινον … πλάσμα, Tim. 74c κηροπλάστης. Euripides was Chaeremon's model for the simile from sculpture, Hec. 560 μαστούς τ᾽ … στέρνα θ᾽ ὡς ἀγάλματος, Andromeda F 125.2–4 παρθένου τ᾽ εἰκώ τινα | ἐξ αὐτομόρφων λαΐνων τυκισμάτων | σοφῆς ἄγαλμα χειρός (see also on F 14.4–5 below); Cat. 64.61 saxea ut effigies bacchantis. ξουθοȋσιν: Fraenkel on A. Ag. 1142 has shown that in the fifth century ξουθός is always of colour (Bacchyl. v.17 πτέρυγες); p. 520 n. 2 he cites Bartsch's paper (see section I above) for retaining the sense here ‘gave their waxy colour to the winds that played amongst them’, and compares Antiphanes F 216.22 (Ath. 623c) ξανθαῖσιν αὔραις σῶμα πᾶν ἀγάλλεται (a squid); for wind-waving hair see also Sappho F 194 LP (Himerius Or. ix.4 Colonna). ἐνετρύφων: a Euripidean compound, Cyc. 588, F 362.24: cf. Ba. 150 τρυφερόν τε πλόκαμον εἰς αἰθέρα ῥίπτων (Βακχεύς) with Dodds' n. there and on 862–5. The statue simile strictly illustrates only the colour of the hair: a streaming effect was unobtainable (as still today) in free-standing plastic art, though partly so in relief work (e.g. the famous Maenads in the Page 10 of 20

On the Tragedian Chaeremon Madrid National Museum: these late fifth-century copies are shown in, e.g., Rhys Carpenter, Greek Sculpture (Chicago, 1960) pl. xxvii and pp. 156–9), but occasionally 32 attempted in vase paintings: a combination of streaming hair and light golden-brown glaze (ξουθός?) as early as a cup by the Brygos Painter (c.490) with a maenad (Beazley, ARV2 371.15; P. Arias & M. Hirmer, History of Greek Vase-Painting (London, 1962) pl. xxxiv). Fragment 14 (Athenaeus 608bcd), from Oeneus: ἔκειτο δ᾽ ἣ μὲν λευκὸν εἰς σεληνόφως φαίνουσα μαστὸν λελυμένης ἐπωμίδος, τῆς δ᾽ αὖ χορεία λαγόνα τὴν ἀριστέραν (p.44) ἔλυσε· γυμνὴ δ᾽ αἰθέρος θεάμασιν 5 ζῶσαν γραφὴν ἔφαινε, χρῶμα δ᾽ ὄμμασιν λευκὸν μελαίνης ἔργον ἀντηύγει σκιᾶς. ἄλλη δ᾽ ἐγύμνου καλλίχειρας ὠλένας, ἄλλης προσαμπέχουσα θῆλυν αὐχένα. ἡ δὲ ῥαγέντων χλανιδίων ὑπὸ πτυχαȋς 10 ἔφαινε μηρόν, κἀξεπεσφραγίζετο ὥρας γελώσης χωρὶς ἐλπίδων ἔρως. ὑπνούμεναι δ᾽ ἔπιπτον ἑλενίων ἔπι ἴων τε μελανόφυλλα συγκλῶσαι πτερὰ κρόκον θ᾽, ὃς ἡλιῶδες εἰς ὑφάσματα 15 πέπλων σκιᾶς εἴδωλον ἐξωμόργνυτο, [ἕρσῃ δὲ θαλερὸς ἐκτραφεὶς ἀμάρακος] λειμῶσι μαλακοῖς ἐξέτεινον αὐχένας. 1 δ᾽ Jacobs: γὰρ Ath. 3 Casaubon: χορείας Ath. 4 ἔδειξε Nauck/γυμνὴ Valckenaer: γυμνῆς Ath. 6 Schweighäuser: ἀνταυγεȋ Ath. 9 Casaubon: ἡ δεκλαγεν τῶν Ath./Nauck: πτύχας Ath. 10 κἀξαπεσφραγίζετο Hermann. 12 correxi: ὑπνωμέναι Lobeck: ὑπτωμέναι Ath. 15 Casaubon: οἰκίας Ath./Meineke: εἰσομόργνυται Ath. 16 secl. Meineke, ad fr. 1 ref. Friebel/Bergk: πέρσης Ath. 17 Grotius: μαλθακοῖσιν Ath./μαλακοὺς ἐξέτεινεν (sc. ἀμάρακος) conservato vs. 16 Wilamowitz. (On this fragment and its lemma in Athenaeus see my Endnote 2006.) ‘One lay showing a white breast to the moonlight, for her shoulder-piece had come free, while another's left flank was bared by dancing: unclad she showed to the heaven's gaze a living picture, and her white skin gleamed back to the eye, the work of night's black shadow. Another bared her lovely arms, embracing another's delicate neck, while this one showed a thigh beneath the folds of a torn mantle; and in her smiling bloom love without hope marked her with its seal. Sleepily they fell upon calamint, and crushing violets with their dark-petalled flowers and crocus which smeared its blurred image sun-yellow on their woven dress [and maijoram strongly nurtured by the dew], they lay with necks relaxed in the soft meadows.’ Euripides' dramatisation of an Oeneus story is known in outline: Oeneus in his old age was dispossessed of his kingdom by his brother Agrius or Agrius' sons, but restored by his grandson Diomedes (F 558–70).32 The story was worked by the Roman tragedians, in Pacuvius' Periboea and Aerius' Diomedes especially. If Chaeremon followed the same plot, it is difficult to see the relevance of the bacchic scene described in our fragment except as part of the atmospheric or even ornamental narrative of the Dionysiac celebration whose opportune confusion Diomedes Page 11 of 20

On the Tragedian Chaeremon probably used (p.45) to execute vengeance on the careless Agrius: but we know of this association only from Pacuvius' play.33 The contrast between this evocatively sensuous description of exhausted bacchants and the restrained account by Euripides' messenger of a similar scene at Ba. 683ff. has been stressed by Dodds (683 n.) – but there can be no doubt that Euripides' imagination was the spur to Chaeremon's.34 The rich tonal detail of this fragment is dictated by the memory of artistic representations, and there are hints in it of Chaeremon's interest in the fresco technique of σκιαγραφία (see on vv. 5–6). Bacchants in Greek art: a good synoptic guide is E. Simon, s.v. ‘Menadi’, Enciclopedia dell'Arte Antica (Roma, 1961) iv.1002–13 (with bibliography); other useful aids are L.B. Lawler, The Dance in Ancient Greece (London, 1964) and G. Prudhommeau, La Danse Grecque Antique (Paris, 1965). Some works relevant to Chaeremon's description are: vv. 1–2: maenad with one breast bared: Carlsruhe hydria in style of Meidias Painter of c.420, Beazley ARV2 1315, Lawler fig. 2, Prudhommeau fig. 446; Bologna volute–crater of Dinos Painter of c.420, Beazley ARV2 1151, Prudhommeau fig. 686, E. Pfuhl, Malerei und Zeichnung der Griechen (München, 1923) fig. 581. v. 7: maenad with arms once fully covered: Lawler figs. 24, 31 (cf. K. Latte, De saltationibus Graecorum (Glessen, 1913) 90 n. 2); arms covered to elbow, Lawler fig. 28; arms bare, Munich amphora of Kleophrades Painter of c.500, Beazley ARV2 182, Lawler fig. 22, Arias & Hirmer, History … pi. xxxi, 122–4. v. 8: maenad with arms around another's neck: Paris neck-amphora of Amasis of middle sixth century, Beazley ABV 152, Pfuhl fig. 220, Arias & Hirmer, pi. xv; Paris amphora of Achilles Painter of c.450, Beazley ARV2 987, Pfuhl fig. 523. vv. 9–11: complete baring of one thigh and flank (cf. w. 3–4), with exactly the erotic suggestiveness hinted by Chaeremon: Dresden dancing maenad in style of Scopas, P. Arias, Skopas (Roma, 1952) 126–7 and pi. 10, Lawler figs. 32 and 33. 33 1–2: ἔκειτο: inceptive, as 12 ὑπνούμεναι ἔπιπτον, 17 ἐξέτεινον; cf. E. Ba. 683ff. ηὖδον δὲ πᾶσαι σώμασιν παρειμέναι, | αἱ μὲν πρὸς ἐλάτης νῶτ᾽ ἐρείσασαι φόβην, | αἱ δ᾽ ἐν δρυὸς φύλλοις πρὸς πέδῳ κάρα | εἰκῇ βαλοῦσαι σωφρόνως. Chaeremon's careful detailing of the appearance of individuals is to some extent matched in E.'s description of their separate actions, Ba. 683ff., 689, 692, 704, 706, 708. λευκόν: taken by Croiset and others with μαστόν, probably rightly, like the ‘white skin’ in 5–6; but the adjective may (p.46) go with the hapax σεληνόφως: Hes. Th. 19, 371 λαμπρὰ σελήνη; λευκός of the sun Il. xiv.185 (v.l.), Emped. 31 B 21.3, dawn E. El. 730. 3–4: χορεία in tragedy also E. Ph. 1265. ἔλυσε: pregnant, ‘laid bare’ helped by 2 λελυμένης ἐπωμίδος. θεάμασιν: apparently unique in the active sense ‘gaze’, but for the idea cf. E. LA 365 αἰθὴρ … ἤκουσε. ζῶσαν γραφήν: the imagery and vocabulary of 2–5 are very similar to E. Hec. 558–61 λαβοῦσα πέπλους ἐξ ἀκρᾶς ἐπωμίδος | ἔρρηξε λαγόνας ἐς μέσας παρ᾽ ὀμφαλὸν | μαστούς τ᾽ ἔδειξε στέρνα θ᾽ ὡς ἀγάλματος | κάλλιστα (though Chaeremon changes the sense of ἐπωμίς to ‘shoulder-piece’: in Hec. (and IT 1404, even more obviously) it is anatomical, ‘point of shoulder’: LSJ need correction); Chaeremon has the vividness of a fresco in mind: similes from painting begin in tragedy at A. Ag. 242 (Iphigeneia at the altar); cf. Eum. 50, E. Hipp. 879, Ion 271, Ph. 129. ζωγράφος and relatives occur first in literature in the later fifth century (e.g. Hdt.

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon ii.46.2), and are very common in Plato; Xen. Mem. iii.11.1 considers the interest of a ζωγράφος in a beautiful model (cf. the quotations at Ath. 588e). Dittenberger OGI 90.3 has εἰκὼν ζῶσα τοῦ ∆ιός, Aristaen. i.1 ἔμψυχος τῆς Ἀφροδίτας εἰκών. 5–6: In μελαίνης ἔργον … σκιᾶς ‘the work of night's black shadow’ ἔργον is ‘Accusative in apposition to the sentence’ (Kannicht in TrGF, citing Barrett's note on Hipp. 752–7); but the whole clause yields its meaning a little reluctantly, with ἀνταυγῶ in its rare intransitive use (also Eub. F 56 PCG). [2006: I am now persuaded that I was wrong in 1970 to obelize ἔργον.] ἀνταυγῶ is normally transitive, so Dobree conjectured μελαίνῃ στέρνον (nom.) ἀντηύγει σκιᾷ. Chaeremon has in mind the technique of σκιαγραφία evolved towards the end of the fifth century, chiefly in the studio of Apollodorus: Plut. Mor. 346a (cf. 863e τὰ λαμπρὰ τῇ σκιᾷ τρανότερα ποιοῦσι); Pfuhl, Malerei ii.674ff. (cf. Masterpiecces of Greek Drawing and Painting (London, 1955) 7). An interest in light-effects also in E. Oedipus F 540.6–9 εἰ μὲν πρὸς ἵππους (αὐγὰς Plut.) ἡλίου, χρυσωπὸν ἦν | νώτισμα θηρός· εἰ δὲ πρὸς νέφος βάλοι, | κυανωπὸν ὥς τις Ἶ ρις ἀντηύγει σέλας; cf. Ion 890 χρυσανταυγῆ. See also on 14–15 below. 7–8: καλλίχειρας: hapax, but cf. E. Hipp. 200 εὐπηχεῖς χεῖρας, 605 δεξιᾶς εὐωλένου, Tro. 1194 (a man's) καλλίπηχυν … βραχίονα. προσαμπέ χουσα: a rare word, but LSJ's meaning ‘veil besides’ cannot be right: a dancer baring her own arm can hardly ‘veil’ the neck of another. The sense ‘embracing’ is confirmed by a glance at the vase paintings noted (Pfuhl figs. 220, 523); προσ – is directional, and ἀμπίσχω ‘embrace’ occurs in E. Supp. 165 γόνυ σὸν ἀμπίσχειν χερί. θῆλυν: ‘delicate’, E. Med. 928, Theocr. xvi.49. [[34]] (p.47) 9–11: ῥαγέντων: rather a strong word (post E. Hec. 559? cf. Ar. Ran. 414 χιτωνίου παραρραγέντος), but perhaps we are to understand that the dancer has torn her clothes in ecstasy. Cf. S. F 872 ἇς ἔτ᾽ ἄστυλος χιτὼν | θυραȋον ἀμφὶ μηρὸν | πτύσσεται with Pearson's note for other references in literature and art to baring of the thigh. ἐξεπεσφραγίζετο: hapax (ἐπισφραγίζω is very common). Though the language is remarkably explicit for tragedy, the idea is not rare: see particularly Barrett's note on E. Hipp. 540 Ἔ ρωτα τᾶ ς Ἀφροδίτας φιλτάτων θαλάμων κλῃδοῦχον, Ar. Th. 976 κλῇδας γάμου, Ec. 12 μηρῶν εἰς ἀπορρήτους μύχους. γελώσης: the verb has a wide metaphorical use, though Chaeremon here innovates: Il. xix.362 χθών (h.Cer. 14), Hes. Th. 40 δώματα (see West's note), PV 90 γέλασμα κυμάτων. χωρὶςἐλπίδων: S. Ant. 330 ἐκτὸς ἐλπίδος, E. Tro. 345 ἔξω … μεγάλων ἐλπίδων. 12–13: ἑλενίων: the obscure flower name (only here in verse) adds extra colour: cf. [16] ἀμάρακος. μελανόφυλλα: hapax, the normal form being μελάμφυλλος: above, n. 24. Violets are ‘black’ (cf. Theocr. x.28 and LSJ s.v. ἴον) for lack of a more exact colour adjective (to the wellknown discussions of M. Platnauer, ‘Greek colour perception’, CQ 15 (1921) 153ff. and A.E. Kober, The Use of Color-terms in the Greek Poets (New York, 1932) should now be added H. Osborne, ‘Colour concepts of the ancient Greeks’, Brit. Journ. Aesthet. 8 (1968) 269ff.). 14–17: κρόκον: ‘collective’ sing., as e.g. ἄμπελος Thuc. iv.90.2: Kühner–Gerth i.13. … πέπλων: cf. epic κροκόπεπλος, A. Pers. 660, Ag. 239. The crushed saffron rubbed off onto the linen impressions of its flowers which were blurred (σκιᾶς εἴδωλον) but still brightly coloured (ἡλιῶδες: next in Philostr. Imag. i.6; cf. S. OC 685 χρυσαυγὴς κρόκος). Chaeremon uses the phrase σκιᾶς εἴδωλον to convey the idea of imperfect or blurred reproduction of a shape as Aeschylus did (Ag. 839, of a mirror) and Sophocles (F 659.6, of a horse reflected in water), but in the context of colour, and light and shade, σκιά is already gaining overtones from the technique of σκιαγραφία (see on 4–5): so our passage throws light on, and is itself illumined by, some difficult lines of Menander, F 435 τῆς σκιᾶς τὴν πορφύραν | πρῶτον ἐνυφαίνουσ᾽ εἶτα μετὰ τὴν Page 13 of 20

On the Tragedian Chaeremon πορφύραν | | τοῦτ᾽ ἔστιν οὔτε λευκὸν οὔτε πορφύρα, | ἀλλ᾽ ὥσπερ αὐγὴ τῆς κρόκης κεκραμένη, supplemented ex. gr. and explained by W.G. Arnott (apud Koerte ii.298): Menander describes the cross-weaving of purple and white threads to achieve colour-shimmer according to the direction of the light. ὑφάσματαπέπλων also E. Hel. 1243. ἐξωμόργνυτο: vox Euripidea (seven times), but not rare elsewhere: ‘smear, imprint on’ HF 1399, Ba. 344, Pl. Grg. 525a. λειμῶσι μαλακοȋ ς: Od. v.72, ix.132–3, etc.: so (p.48) Wilamowitz' μαλακοὺς ἐξέτεινεν (sc. ἀμάρακος), an attempt to accommodate [16], may be discounted. [16]: an intruder, perhaps through dislocation at an early stage in the tradition of Athenaeus (cf. the start of this section VII); most probably the single verse was a further illustration of Chaeremon's fondness for flowers, but its lemma was lost. ἕρσῃ: so Bergk, for πέρσης Ath., but right: dew was regarded as nutritive (so θαλερός): Od. v.467 θῆλυς ἐέρση (‘gentle’, LSJ, but schol. BQ have τρόφιμος δρόσος), Hes. Sc. 395 (cf. Od. xiii.245), Pind. Nem. viii.40 χλωραȋς ἐέρσαις ὡς ὅτε δένδρεον †ᾆσσει.† ἀμάρακος: see on 12 ἑλενίων.

Notes (p.51) Endnote 2006: Bibliographical Supplement Bibliography references: Works already named in section I of the article (Bibliography) and the following are referred to by author's name or short title only, with a page number: G. Xanthakis-Karamanos, Studies in Fourth-Century Tragedy (Athens, 1980), abbreviated to ‘X.K., Studies’ ———, Dramatica. Studies in Classical and Post-Classical Dramatic Poetry (Athens, 2002: reprinted papers), abbreviated to ‘X.-K., Dramatica’ A. Piatkowski, ‘La description de la figure humaine dans le drâme grec du IVème siècle av. n. ère’, Philologus 125 (1981) 201–10 T.K. Stephanopoulos, ‘Tragica I’, ZPE 73 (1988) 207–41, at 237–41; ‘Tragica II’, ib. 75 (1988) 3– 47, at 10–13, abbreviated to ‘Stephanopoulos I and II’ respectively General works upon tragedy of the fourth and later centuries

Bibliography references: P.E. Easterling, ‘The end of an era? Tragedy in the early fourth century’, in A.H. Sommerstein, S. Halliwell & B. Zimmermann (ed.), Tragedy, Comedy and the Polis (Baris, 1993) 559–69 X.-K., Dramatica 145–63 M.J. Cropp in J. Gregory (ed.), A Companion to Greek Tragedy (Oxford, 2005) 288–92 C. Mueller-Goldingen, Studien zum antiken Drama Spudasmata 106 (Hildesheim, 2005) 67–96, with ‘Chairemon’ on 88–96 p. 32 on The Contribution of Papyrus:

Two frustratingly brief fragments from Book iii of Philodemus' On Poems counterpose Euripides and Chaeremon in their moral effect. They are the new T 3a (TrGF I2, 1986): PHerc 1074 + 1081

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon + 1676 frr. h and m, ed. F. Sbordone, Ric. Pap. Ercol. 2 (1996) 217–21; fr. h is trans. and disc. By E. Asmis in D. Obbink (ed.), Philodemus and Poetry (New York & Oxford, 1995) 174–5. F 14b disc. by Snell, Szenen 166–7, and reproduced by X.-K., Studies 177–8 and Dramatica 388– 9. p. 33

PHibeh i.4: reproduced and disc. by X.-K., Studies 169–73 (‘the possibility that these fragments come from Chaeremon cannot be excluded’, 173, a view she repeated at Dramatica 206); my view that neither Chaeremon nor Euripides is the likely author is endorsed by R. Kannicht in TrGF vol. 2 on adesp. 625, and by Stephanopoulos I.238–41; P. Carrara, Prometheus 12 (p.52) (1986) 25–32 thinks that if Euripides was not the author, only Chaeremon is possible; both Stephanopoulos and Carrara qualify some of my detailed annotation. p. 34 Sources etc.

An early discussion by Bartsch 4–5, 9–11. The ἀναγνωστικοί: see also Snell, Szenen 158–9; bibl. in X.-K., Studies 7–8 and Dramatica 252–3. p. 37

Achilles Thersitoctonus. Reconstructions by G. Xanthakis-Karamanos, Platon 34–5 (1982–3) 55–67 (=Dramatica 165–81) and G. Morelli, Teatro attico e pittura vascolare. Una tragedia di Cheremone nella ceramica italiota Spudasmata 84 (Hildesheim, 2001), with 5 Plates, at 153–68 (reviewed by M.J. Cropp, CR 55 (2005) 419–21, cf. also Cropp [above] 289, with Plate); Morelli 135–52 discusses Boston 03.804 fully; cf. Trendall-Webster, Illustrations of Greek Drama III.4.2; this Boston vase is now LIMC I.1.171–2 ‘Achilleus’ No.794*; for the fullest bibl. see now L. Todisco (ed.), La ceramica figurata a soggetto tragico in Magna Grecia e in Sicilia (Rome, 2003) 449 (Ap 135). The performance record IG V.2.118 (DID B 11 and Chaeremon F 1a TrGF) is discussed by Snell, Szenen 159 and X.-K., Studies 7 and Dramatica 239–54. The athlete-actor's perfomance reflects growing fourth-century interest in the human figure according to Piatkowski 201–5. F 1: see also below, section VII. F 2 disc. by Snell, Szenen 168 n. 27 and X.-K., Studies 132ff. with reference to the concept of τύχη; analogous passages additional to those in TrGF in Stephanopoulos, II.11; the fr. may come from an agon scene, X.-K., Studies 61, cf. her Dramatica 173; cf. also Morelli 167–8. Dionysus. F 4 is explained as ‘Pentheus fated to bring his mother (my italics) grief’ by Gauly 290 n. 7. F 5–7 disc. by X.-K., Studies 90ff. Thyestes. F 8 disc. by X.-K., Studies 92. Io. F 9 disc. by X.-K., Studies 90. Centaurus. Disc. by Snell, Szenen 167–9; X.-K., Studies 177–8. Full edition and bibliography by T. Günther in R. Krumeich u.a., Das griechische Satyrspiel (Darmstadt, 1999) 580–90. F 9a: disc. by Gauly 290 nn. 9, 10. F 10: disc. by X.-K., Studies 93; line 3 θηρώμεν〈αι μέν〉οντα A. Lorenzini, Eikasmos 6 (1995) 45–6; λειμώνων τέκνα disc. by Piatkowski 209. F 14b (above, p. 33): on acrostics see most recently E. Courtney, Philologus 134 (1990) 3–13, who on 7 notes that they are ‘at home in gnomic poetry; and that the (Chaeremon) fr. is from a papyrus collection of such’.

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon (p.53) Minyae. F 12 disc. by X.-K., Studies 93–4. Line 2 χνόου conjectured by S.L. Radt in T. Stephanopoulos, ZPE 92 (1990) 37; a girl's pubes is being described, according to M.L. West, BICS 30 (1983) 30. Odysseus. F 13 disc. by X.-K., Studies 94; ‘roses’ discussed by Stephanopoulos II.12. p. 38

Oeneus. F 14: see also below, section VII. F 16–43: many of the sententious frr. (19, 21, 23–4, 27–9, 31, 37, cf. 2) are discussed individually by Mueller-Goldingen 89–95. F 16 (and 15) disc. by X.-K., Studies 90, 95–6. F 17 disc. by X.-K., Studies 94, Stephanopoulos II. 12; for E. Fraenkel's view that a messenger is speaking see Kannicht at TrGF 5.2.1112. F 20–22: ‘time’ in these frr. discussed by X.-K., Studies 135–6; in F 20 for σχολῇ with a verb of motion cf. (Stephanopoulos II.12) Men. Georg. fr. 6 Sandbach. F 23 disc. by X.-K., Studies 138 and Stephanopoulos II.12; M.L. West in TrGF V.2.1112 suggests that the couplet may be ‘two separate fragments’. F 24–6 disc. by X.-K., Studies 138–9. F 30 disc. by X.-K., Studies 144; in line 2 τὸ κράτιστον = ὁ θεός Stephanopoulos II.12–13, cf. his ZPE 92 (1990) 37. F 31 disc. by X.-K., Studies 158–9. F 32 disc. by X.-K., Studies 150. F 36 disc. by X.-K., Studies 154–5, Stephanopoulos II.13; in line 4 συνοικῶν … εἴληχεν is suggested by M.L. West in TrGF 5.2.1112. F 37 disc. by Stephanopoulos II.13. F 41 disc. by X.-K., Studies 90 n. 1. F 42 disc. by X.-K., Studies 130.2. V. Style etc

An early appreciation by Bartsch 21–3; recently, Snell, Szenen 159 (‘literary quality’), 161–2 (‘pictorial, sculptural’), 165 (‘flowers’); Seeck 189–90; X.-K., Studies esp. 84, 90–7. MuellerGoldingen 89–96 discusses Chaeremon's interest in practical ethics, and his aphoristic style in the sententious fragments. (p.54) p. 41 VII. The two longer fragments, 1 and 14.

A detailed commentary on these two and all the frr. cited by Athenaeus in 608a–f is offered by M.L. Gambato, in L. Canfora (ed.), Atheneo. I Deipnosofisti. I Dotti a Banchetto (Roma, 2001) III. 1565–70.

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon F 1 Alphesiboea, second introductory paragraph and commentary on lines 1–2: in 1970 I had been unaware that Q. Cataudella, RFIC 7 (1929) 241–3 asserted the soundness of Athenaeus' lemma in 608d; he argued that ἄνθη is to be supplied from it as the grammatical subject of κατειργάζετο in line 1, with στίλβοντα in line 2 in agreement, ‘e vincevano gli occhi (del corpo) splendendo’. Cataudella takes lines 3–7 as an extended personification of flowers, comparing F 8, 10, Mosch. Eur. 63ff., Meleager, AP 5.144 etc. Snell in TrGF and Szenen 165 (followed by Gauly 290 n. 4) inclined to agree, but I am not persuaded. I cannot believe that Chaeremon's lines refer to anything except a woman's appearance; and the simile in lines 5–6 seems to me to put this interpretation beyond question (see the commentary on lines 3–4). Moreover, the passages quoted by Cataudella from Greek Romance in order to suggest probable influence by Chaeremon confirm my view rather than his: 1–2: cf. Chariton i.25 Χαιρέας … στίλβων ὥσπερ ἄστηρ. ἐπήνθει γὰρ αὐτοῦ τῷ λαμπρῷ τοῦ προσώπου τὸ ἐρύθημα. 5–7: cf. Ach. Tatius ii.1.3 εὐώδεσι φύλλοις κομᾷ, εὐκινήτοις πετάλοις τρυφᾷ, iii.7.2 ἔοικε τὸ θέαμα, εἰ μὲν εἰς τὸ κάλλος ἀπίδοις, ἀγάλματι καινῷ. My view is supported by O. Primavesi, Bunte Götter. Die Farbigkeit antiker Skulptur (München, 2003) 224–6, who also defends κηρόχρωτες ‘blonde-coloured’ (hair) in line 5. p. 42

F 1 is transl. and disc. by Snell, Szenen 165–6 and X.-K., Studies 79–84. Line 1 ὄψαν᾽ (Jacobs) εἰσηυγάζετο (Grotius), i.e. Alcmaeon, is read by Primavesi (above). Lines 3–7 disc. by Stephanopoulos II.10–13. Lines 5–6: comparisons with statuary also by Snell, Szenen 161–2, cf. Piatkowski 205. The Brygos Painter's cup (Beazley ARV2 371.15) is München 2645 (J 332): LIMC III.1.454 ‘Dionysos’ No. 333* = VIII.1.783 ‘Mainaden’ No. 7* p. 43

F 14 Oeneus: trans. and disc. by Snell, Szenen 160–1, X.-K., Studies 71–9, 81, S. A. Barlow, The Imagery of Euripides (Bristol, 19862) 69–70. For ‘exhausted bacchants’: cf. G. Devereux, JHS 90 (1970) esp. 34–5 and n. 11; for maenads in art see LIMC VIII.1.781–802 and further bibl. in Der Neue Pauly 7 (1997) 640–1. LIMC references for the works or art cited are: vv. 1–2 (p.55) Karlsruhe 259 (B 36) III.1.452 ‘Dionysos’ No. 316* and Bologna VF 283 ibid. 484 No. 738*; v. 7 München 2344 (J 408) ibid. 452 No. 311* = VIII.1.786 ‘Mainaden’ No. 36*; v. 8 Paris, Cab. Méd. 222 III.1 451 No. 294*; vv. 9–11 Dresden, Stadt. Kunsts. ZV 1941 VIII.1.784 No. 20*. Line 2 for breasts seen through loosened or torn dress, see J. Henderson, The Maculate Muse (New York & Oxford, 1991) 149 and n. 209. Lines 5–6, 14–17 σκιαγραφία: more recent literature in Gauly 290 n. 12, Der Neue Pauly 11 (2001) 143. Line 11 on the eroticism, and comparison with Ovid, esp. Amores 3.2.2–5, see Snell, Szenen 163–4, Piatkowski 208–9. Line 13 πτερά ‘foglie’ F. Amarante, Vichiana 4 (1993) 291–3. Line [16] Snell–Kannicht in TrGF and Gauly 290 n. 13 accept Wilamowitz' changes in 17 and keep 16, so that the two lines together make a flat statement about ἀμάρακο flowers spreading their soft heads (‘necks’) in the meadows; but I persist in seeing corruption here, for the narrative sequence should end by describing how the dancers’ collapse affected this last group of flowers (16) and how the dancers then relaxed in sleep (17, cf. 12 ‘sleepily’; αὐχένας of the dancers, as in 8). So West's suggestion (BICS 30 (1983) 80) of a lacuna between 16 and 17, both lines being sound in Athenaeus, is most attractive. Addendum on F 14

At the last minute I can note E. Dolfi's important article ‘Sul fr. 14 di Cheremone’, Prometheus 32 (2004) 43–54. He offers a translation and a detailed commentary, occasionally taking issue with mine (pp. 43–8). In particular, he notes my original slip in suggesting a messenger speech, because Athenaeus 608a names the speaker as Oeneus himself (p. 32 of the original; I have Page 17 of 20

On the Tragedian Chaeremon removed it from pp. 44f. here); Dolfi thinks that this may be the mature Oeneus' recollection of happier and younger times; and he retains line 16, accepting Wilamowitz' ἐξέτεινεν in 17 (but with μαλακοῖς). Dolfi then argues most persuasively that the scene described is not Dionysiac, as almost all commentators have thought, including myself, but that its eroticism pictures young girls dancing in honour of Aphrodite (pp. 48–54). His most compelling contentions are that (i) the girls wear or carry none of the Dionysiac emblems regular in poetry in art; (ii) the natural habitat of the flowers described excludes an ὀρειβασία, for calamint, violets and marjoram do not grow upon exposed cold slopes; and they have an association with Aphrodite (Sappho fr. 94.12ff., cf. the hymeneal Catullus 61.7); (iii) Chaeremon's scene is a precursor of the erotic combination of girls and flowers which became a commonplace of Greek Romance. Notes: (1) . Date: there are two termini post: Chaeremon is mentioned by the comic poets Eubulus (after 370 BC) and Ephippus (after 368 BC): see T 2. The single-line F 2 is frequently cited, in whole or part, but without attribution, from the middle of the fourth century onward: see the apparatus in TrGF. (2) . Hermes 82 (1954) 302, followed by F. Stoessl, Der Kleine Pauly I (1964) 1121. (3) . On the single fragment from Chaeremon's Oeneus, F 14, see section VII below. (4) . So O. Rossbach, from the Chryses: rejected by A.C. Pearson, Fragments of Sophocles (Cambridge, 1917) ii. 328, cf. S.L. Radt in TrGF vol. 4 p. 495. (5) . Agathon (Paris, 1955) 14. (6) . Fragments, testimonia in Page, PMG nos. 758–63; a rhetorical theorist (Rh. 1414b17) and teacher of Polus (Pl. Phdr. 267c), as well as poet; cf. E. Norden, Die antike Kunstprosa (Leipzig, 19092) i. 73. (7) . ‘Die Anagnostikoi’, Festschrift Th. Gomperz (Wien, 1902) 382ff.; echoes still persist of the view discredited by Crusius that these plays were neither performed nor meant for performance: see the definitive treatment of the issue by O. Zwierlein, Die Rezitationsdramen Senecas (Meisenheim am Glan 1966) 128–34 (unknown to me in 1970). (8) . Pace Webster, Hermes 82 (1954) 302, who thinks the context makes it clear Aristotle is thinking rather of panegyric than forensic competition. (9) . Aristotle's Poetics (Harvard, 1963) 54–60, at 58. (10) . The complex versions of the story are now most easily studied in T. Gantz, Early Greek Myth (Baltimore, 1993) 621–2; earlier, L. Séchan, Etudes sur la tragédie grecque etc. (Paris, 1926) 528ff. Nauck thought of a satyrplay, perhaps in view of Thersites' physical ugliness (Il. ii. 216–19) and scurrilous behaviour; cf. O. Crusius in the apparatus to F 3 in TrGF. (11) . See Pearson's introduction to Sophocles' Atreus (F 140–1) and Thyestes in Sicyon (F 247– 69) and Gantz (n. 10 above) 554–56. (12) . Arist. Po. 1453b33 refers to ‘Τραυματίας Ὀδυσσεύς’: can there have been a third title current for the one Odysseus play of Sophocles? (2006: see Radt's introduction to F 453–461a,

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On the Tragedian Chaeremon and W.G. Arnott, Alexis (Cambridge, 1996) 663–4). At Athenaeus 562ef severe dislocation has resulted in the apparent ascription to Chaeremon of a Τραυματίας (T 1, F [14a]). (13) . See especially Webster, Hermes 82 (1954) 297 and 306. (14) . Arist. Rh. iii.2. In Agathon, too, metaphor is most common: Lévêque, Agathon 127ff. (15) . θρέμματ᾽ for σώματ᾽ Nauck, rightly, Tragicae Dictionis Index (St Petersburg, 1892) xxvi; cf. Od. ix.51. (16) . With F 10.3 θηρώμεναι … λειμώνων τέκνα compare E. Hypsipyle F 754.2 ἄγρευμ᾽ ἀνθέων. (17) . New: ἐρᾶν and derivatives elsewhere commonly describe human passions for inanimates or abstracts, e.g. E. Heracl. 377 πολέμων ἐραστάς, not of one inanimate for another. (18) . Noted already by Eustathius 1658. 56. Flowers are ‘earth's children’ A. Pers. 618; cf. fish the sea's children Pers. 578, birds the heaven's E. El. 897, wine the vine's child Pind. Nem. ix.52, gold Zeus' Pind. F 222, (inanimates) day the sun's Pind. Ol. ii.35, Echo the mountain rocks' E. Hec. 1110, death Oath's Hdt. vi.86.γ2 (oracle), justice Time's E. F 222, lot Chance's E. F 989. (19) . S. OT 191 ἄχαλκος ἀσπίδων; ἀτευχής E. And. 1119, ἄξιφος Lycophron, ἄνασπις Nonnus (all literal). (20) . Simple in e.g. A. Th. 949 ὑπὸ σώματι | γᾶς, E. Ph. 1508, Pl. Tim. 31b; complex, Emped. 31 B 100.11 ὕδατος τέρεν δέμας, S. F 255.4. Cf. also δέμας in LSJ I.2. (21) . The probable text of F 12 is πολλὴν ὀπώραν Κύπριδος εἰσορᾶν παρῆν | ἀκραῖσι περκάζουσαν οἰνάνθαις γένυν, ‘Cypris' high season could be seen in his chin's darkening bloom’. The ungrammatical χρόνου, replaced with γένυν by Kaibel on Athenaeus 608f., cannot be defended from Pind. Nem. v.6 τέρειναν ματέρ᾽ οἰνάνθας ὀπώραν, where both οἰνάνθη and ὀπώρα are literal in sense. The presence of Κύπρις confirms a context of sexual ripeness, as in Pind. Isth. ii.5, but Chaeremon's comparison of the darkening beard to the colour of the grape is again second-hand: E. Cret. F 472e.15 (cf. Call. hymn. v.75); οἴνωπος γένυς E. Ba. 438 (ornans Ph. 1160). (22) . Cf. Pl. Lg. 837c ὁ … ἐρῶν … τῆς ὥρας καθάπερ ὀπώρας πεινῶν, Diogen. iii.95 γλυκεῖ ᾽ ὀπώρα φύλακος ἐκλελοιπότος. (23) . Also of colour, Nicand. F 74.65; ὀξύς ‘bright’, of natural light or whiteness, Il. xiv.345, xvii. 372 (cf. Pind. Ol. vii.70), Pind. Pyth. i.20. (24) . μελάμφυλλος S. OC 481, lyric; also in PHibeh ii.172 col. 1.2 (=Suppl. Hellen. F 991.2 LloydJones & Parsons). (25) . Prepositive pronouns and conjunctions are not uncommon here in Sophocles, very rare otherwise; in the minores cf. e.g. Dionys. 76 F 7.1; in general, see J. Descroix, Le Trimètre Iambique (Macon, 1931) 288–95. (26) . 1.7, 15, 17.2, 20, 33. Cf. C.F. Müller, De pedibus solutis in tragicorum minorum trimetris iambicis (Berlin, 1879), whose figures are based on Nauck, TGF 1. (27) . T. Zielinski, Tragodumenon (Cracow, 1925) 141. Page 19 of 20

On the Tragedian Chaeremon (28) . De pedibus etc. 34; a slightly different view in Descroix (n. 25 above). (29) . Which is often slightly varied, of course: compare the lemmata to the six quotations from Chaeremon which follow. On Athenaeus' ‘formulae’ see K. Zepernick, Philologus 77 (1921) 311ff., and on the accuracy of his tragic quotations, my article in RFIC 97 (1969) 157–79 (reproduced as no. 5 in this volume). (30) . Kaibel altered the lemma of F 1 to read ἐπικατάφορος … ἄνθη καὶ ἐν Ἀλφεσιβοίᾳ φησί, maintaining the continuity of F 1 with F 14 as illustrations of κάλλος, but also the displacement of the introduction to the flower quotations. (31) . Arsinoe in Euripides, Apollodorus: for the evidence see Pearson, Sophocles i.69 and Gantz, Early Greek Myth 526–7. Tragic treatments of the Alcmaeon myth: Lévêque, Agathon 93 n. 1; Gantz 507–8, 522–7. (32) . Philocles also wrote an Oeneus (24 T 1), perhaps Sophocles too, though the evidence is flimsy: Pearson, Sophocles ii.120. (33) . H.J. Mette, Lustrum 9 (1964) 93; cf. L. Séchan, Etudes sur la tragédie etc. (Paris, 1926) 444. (34) . For the immediate influence of the Bacchae, see the Introduction to Dodds's edition.

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The Pirithous Fragments

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

The Pirithous Fragments Da Homero a Libanio. Estudios actuales sobre textos griegos. II. ed. J.A. LUópez Férez (Madrid, 1995) 183–93 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0004

Abstract and Keywords The paper reviews the still disputed nature and attribution of a fragmentary play about Pirithous’ descent into Hades to recover his intended bride Persephone after her abduction by the underworld god. The few book-fragments (quotations in other ancient authors) have been considerably supplemented by two papyri. Tragedy or satyr-play± By Euripides (much the stronger ancient attribution) or his contemporary Critias, politician and occasional poet± Keywords:   Pirithous, fragmentary remains, tragedy or satyr-play±, Euripides or Critias±

Bibliographical matter is placed at the end; reference from the text is by means of a bracketed number, e.g. (4), (21), etc. 1. The fragmentary texts attributed by modern scholarly consensus to a Pirithous drama composed near the end of the 5th century BC are assembled by B. Snell in Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta I (19711, 19812). Snell has 10 ‘book fragments’ deriving from ancient citations and totalling about 35 verses (1); and 4 papyrus-based fragments (POxy 2078, 2nd century AD) with remnants of about 500 verses, only 20 of any completeness (2). A further separated part of POxy 2078 with 28 damaged verses has subsequently been published as POxy 3531 (3). Snell published the fragments under the name of Critias, one of the Thirty Tyrants, who was killed in 403 BC; but the clear tendency of the ancient citations is rather towards Euripidean authorship (4). This paper was undertaken as preparatory work upon the collaborative edition Selected Fragmentary Plays of Euripides I, ed. C.C., M.J. Cropp, K.H. Lee (Warminster, 1995); II, ed. C.C., M.J.C., J. Gibert (Oxford, 2005). The question in 1995 was whether to include the Pirithous texts. In the event they were not included (nor were many much more substantial and unquestionably

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The Pirithous Fragments Euripidean fragmentary plays), and the question in 2006 is whether to include them in the twovolume ‘Loeb’ Fragments of Euripides (ed. C.C. and M.J.C., probably 2008). [[184]] This paper is largely about principles, problems and methods rather than the coherence or content of the texts. (p.57) 2. The Alexandrian Life of Euripides, perhaps from the 2nd century BC, names three plays judged spurious, Tennes, Rhadamanthys and Pirithous (5). Another (probably later) Alexandrian source may lie behind the quotation of Snell's F 2 by Athenaeus c.AD 200, to which are attached the words'…. the author of the Pirithous, whether he is Critias the tyrant or Euripides' (6). Those are the two ancient statements which deny or imperil Euripidean authorship of a Pirithous. On the other hand all the book fragments accepted for Critias' Pirithous by Snell come from sole sources attributing them to both Euripides and his Pirithous (F 4, 10, 12, 13, 14), or from one or more sources at least one of which attributes them to both Euripides and his Pirithous (F 1, 3), or from one or more sources at least one of which attributes them to Euripides, no play being named (F 6). One fragment (F 11) is attributed by its sole source simply to Pirithous. Authorship of a Pirithous by Critias is recorded only for F 2, and as a matter of doubt between him and Euripides. The first modern collectors of Tragic fragments followed the clear majority of these ancient attributions. So Pirithous and fragments were ascribed to Euripides by e.g. Valckenaer in 1767 (7) and Nauck in 1856 (8). The large argument, whether the play and the fragments were genuinely Euripidean or belonged rather to Critias, began with Wilamowitz in 1875 (9). The argument continues, affected firstly by the discovery and publication in 1908 of a fuller text of F 1, with supporting matter (see Snell), and secondly by publication of papyri, of more text fragments in 1927 and 1983 and then of hypotheseis in 1933 and 1962. It is the history and nature of this argument that I discuss not least because it gives one more instance of the power of a great scholar like Wilamowitz to dominate, even to prejudice, all subsequent debate. 3. I begin with one fragment whose various sources illustrate the methodological problems well, and go on to other significant sources and attributions. This first fragment is F 4. It is quoted in damaged form by Satyrus in his Life of Euripides Fr. 37 col. 2 from the late 3rd century BC – seemingly the earliest evidence of the play; but the fragment is not there explicitly attributed to Euripides [[185]] or to his or any other author's Pirithous; it appears to be included by Satyrus as an example of theories of Anaxagoras influential on Euripides. Because that is its context, may we infer – can we avoid inferring – that the fragment is in fact Euripidean? We have to wait for later sources to see the fuller text of five verses and for specific attribution both to Euripides and to his Pirithous: Clement of Alexandria, Strom. V 115 of about AD 200, deriving it apparently nevertheless from a source of about the same date as Satyrus (see Jacoby on (p.58) FGrH 264 F 24); and Hellenistic scholia on Euripides, Orestes 982 and Apollonius IV 143 (cf. 1134) which cite only verses 1–2. Clearly this brief but very interesting fragment was the common and much used property of scholarship of all kinds. In probable order of importance the next two testimonia to Pirithous are those already cited from the Life of Euripides and Athenaeus (5, 6), which question Euripidean authorship. Next is a document of very uncertain, indeed dangerous, value for our problem, the ‘Piraeus’ Catalogue of Tragedies of c. 100 BC (IG II2 2363 col. 2.43–5; see TrGF l CAT B 1). The Catalogue stone is badly damaged under the letter П for Euripides. It has the names of four (known) plays Page 2 of 11

The Pirithous Fragments beginning with this letter, another beginning withПΛ before a lacuna, and two others of which only the single initial letter survives. Was one of these two Pirithous, the other the (known) Feticides ? Worse, the damaged stone lists no plays at all beginning with P or T – where we might have hoped to find, or to find omitted, Rhadamanthys and Tennes, grouped with Pirithous as spurious in the Alexandrian source (5). I go next to the sources for F 1. Two 11th century AD authors, Johannes Logothetes and Gregory of Corinth, summarise the plot of a Pirithous play of Euripides and attest between them 16 verses. This summary and text stood probably in the rhetorician Hermogenes of about AD 200. Verse 9 is said by Hermogenes himself to have appeared also in Euripides' Melanippe Sophe (Euripides often reuses lines, or part-lines, from one play to another, no doubt unconsciously). The attribution of F 1 to Euripides is repeated by Tzetzes in the 12th century, almost certainly from Johannes or Gregory. Now to the papyri. First, attribution to the play. POxy 2078 and 3531 are assigned to a Pirithous on the ground of self-identification by some of the characters (Theseus and Heracles at F 7.5–8) and clear reference to Theseus' concern to save Pirithous from Hades (F 7.6–10). Attempts to locate the two papyri which make up TrGF II adesp. 658 in the Pirithous play represented by POxy 2078 and 3531 and the book fragments have failed, for the two [[186]] pieces almost certainly come from a late 4th century play: see (4) in the Bibliography. The second category of papyrus evidence is silent and implicitly negative for Pirithous but positive for Rhadamanthys and Tennes condemned with it as spurious in the Life of Euripides. PSI 1286 of the 2nd century AD has fragments of the hypothesis of Rhadamanthys, the commonly supposed spurious Rhesus and the genuine Skyrioi of Euripides (40). POxy 2455 of the same date has among its many fragmentary Euripidean hypotheseis that of Tennes (36). These two plays were apparently recorded as Euripidean in two different papyri about three centuries after their condemnation in the Life. (p.59) 4. Into the discussion comes now a long fragment of a play entitled Sisyphus. Euripides is known from a didascalia (TrGF I DID anno 415) to have added a satyric drama Sisyphus to his so-called ‘Trojan’ trilogy of the year 415; POxy 2455 has part of its hypothesis (45). This long fragment is cited in its fullest extent by Sextus Empiricus of about 200 AD and attributed to Critias (42, 43, 44), but no play title is given. Some individual verses of the fragment are however ascribed by the slightly earlier Aëtius to the Sisyphus of Euripides, and other verses simply to Euripides, by Aëtius and a scholiast on Euripides, Orestes 982 (44). With this Sisyphus fragment we encounter the powerful opinion of Wilamowitz. In his Analecta (9) he tried to reconstruct the list of Euripides' plays known to the Alexandrians and to the Roman polyhistor Varro. Wilamowitz used the uncertain testimony of the ‘Piraeus’ Catalogue (above, § 3); he linked it with the assertion in the Life that Tennes, Rhadamanthys and Pirithous were spurious and with the doubt in Athenaeus whether Critias or Euripides wrote Pirithous. He thought that the three tragedies, together with a satyric Sisyphus, had formed a tetralogy composed by Critias after he returned to Athens in 411 from exile in Thessaly. He accepted the attribution of the long Sisyphus fragment by Sextus to Critias. He argued that neither the style nor the intellectual basis especially of F 3, 4 and 10 of the Pirithous were Euripidean. He repeated his view more and more aggressively in later journal articles, in 1907, 1927 and 1929 (13, 16, 18).

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The Pirithous Fragments The chronological Bibliography shows how Wilamowitz' own opinion has prevailed, particularly among his own pupils and in Germany (10, 11, 15, 20), despite detailed counter-arguments on the same grounds of content and style from Kuiper in 1907 (12) and Pietrovsky in 1918 (14). Wilamowitz appears not to have commented [[187]] upon the publication in 1927 of POxy 2078, with its fragments ascribed by the editor to a Pirithous ; he had died before the publication of the first of the papyrus hypotheseis, of PSI in 1933. The only voices speaking decidedly for Euripidean authorship of the book fragments and of the Oxyrhynchus papyrus have been Page in 1941 (22), Vysoky in 1964 (24) and Mette in 1983 (34). It is observable that most recent scholars who have treated the matter in detail have stated uncertainty about attribution (23, 29, 31, 32 – but note 26). It is perhaps significant in view of his generally receptive attitude to doubtful Euripidean texts that Webster in 1967 (25) followed Wilamowitz – as, more importantly, did both Snell in 1971 (1, 2) and Kannicht in 1981 (4). Helen Cockle, the editor of POxy 3531 (33), concludes that this further fragment of POxy 2078 does not help the discussion (although one must at least ask whether the new hapax ὀνειρατώδης in v. 15 is a possible Euripidean formation). (p.60) 5. I now give my own evaluation of evidence and argument. (i) We can be confident of knowing the narrative behind the plot of this Pirithous. Johannes, Gregory and Tzetzes summarise it: the long book fragment known to these three, F 1, and POxy 2078 fit the summary. It is a well-known myth. Theseus and Pirithous went to Hades to abduct Persephone as bride for Pirithous. Pirithous was imprisoned but Theseus refused to abandon him. Heracles came to Hades to abduct Cerberus and, finding the two prisoners, set both free. Tzetzes says the freeing of both rather than of Theseus alone was a feature of Euripides' play; he implies that it was a feature of the story distinctive to Euripides. Mette (34) makes large use of this claim, to argue that the Pirithous is a typical Euripidean plot illustrating the power of φιλία. He links it closely in theme and time with the extant Heracles. One might add that the fortuitous arrival of a rescuing Heracles is similarly typical of Euripidean dramaturgy: witness the Heracles again – and Heracles in Alcestis, for example. While all the text fragments which survive fit both the narrative in Johannes and Mette's suggested plot theme, they cannot be confidently located in a dramatic sequence. (ii) To repeat: the attribution of a Pirithous to Euripides, and of almost all the book fragments to a Pirithous by Euripides, is widespread. Conversely, only one source names Critias in association with a Pirithous and as an alternative to Euripides as its author. Indications that Alexandrian scholars doubted the genuineness of a Euripidean Pirithous are found in the Life and in Athenaeus. [[188]] (iii) Critias was a versatile man and a writer of both prose and verse, but his making of plays is attested only by the ascription of a few play fragments to him, the long piece from a Sisyphus (F 19) and four gnomic fragments in Stobaeus from unnamed plays (F 22–5). There is no evidence whatever that Critias wrote and presented any complete tetralogy or that it consisted of the four plays discussed here. It is possible but unverifiable that Critias did write such a tetralogy; that all trace of it has been lost; and that, if he did write it, somehow the attribution of its plays has passed inconsistently and incompletely to Euripides (for speculation about this last possibility, see the final paragraph of § 6 below). (iv) Wilamowitz' supposed tetralogy by Critias is a clever and attractive guess because it tidily reconciles conflicting, incomplete and ambiguous evidence; but it remains a guess, and a violent one. It is not inevitable that because the case for ascribing the single long Page 4 of 11

The Pirithous Fragments Sisyphus fragment to Critias is much stronger than for ascribing a Pirithous and its fragments to him, therefore this Pirithous must be denied to Euripides when the balance of evidence is not less strongly the other way. Moreover, the supposed tetralogy is (p. 61) not persuasive as a thematic group if it was Critias' single dramatic production. Pirithous, Rhadamanthys and perhaps the satyric Sisyphus might have had in common a setting in Hades, and all have dramatised the morality of ‘underworld’ justice, but Tennes had almost certainly a purely ‘human’ plot. (v) The papyri, both of play fragments and of hypotheseis, all of which have been recovered since Wilamowitz advanced his argument, point rather to Euripidean authorship of the Pirithous. (a) It is always more likely that unattributed tragic texts from Oxyrhynchus will prove to be Euripidean rather than of other dramatists. This statistical probability may seem a shaky reason for attributing POxy 2078 to a Pirithous by Euripides, but where express identification of papyrus texts is lacking it is at least accepted as one kind of indication by so distinguished a scholar as Luppe (4). (b) A subjective judgement of another kind offers a further suggestive indication: the contents of POxy 2078 and 3531 are not inconsistent with Euripidean verbal style, (c) The fact that two papyri with Euripidean hypotheseis include Tennes and Rhadamanthys, two of the three plays judged spurious in the Life together with Pirithous, is a small indication of genuineness for them, if not also for Pirithous. This small indication becomes stronger from the fact that the few surviving text fragments of Rhadamanthys (F 15–18) and Tennes (F 20–1) are all ascribed to Euripides. [[189]] I may call (i) to (v) above ‘external’ considerations; argument about them is largely subjective and tendentious. Such ‘internal’ indications as there are prove to be similarly precarious. (vi) Wilamowitz (9, 13, 16, 18) argued against Euripidean authorship of the book fragments on ground of vocabulary; and especially that F 3 and F 4 show a poet claiming as the prime control of the universe something akin to Anaxagoras' νοῦς, not Euripides' own favourite αἰϑἠρ. The arguments for supposedly non-Euripidean vocabulary were contested by Kuiper (12) in the main – and the papyrus texts found subsequently seem to favour Kuiper rather than Wilamowitz. Kuiper also argued that the scientific and metaphysical position represented in F 3 and F 4 is consistent with Euripides' variable thinking, imagery and phraseology; and that any poet of Euripides' day could have used such ideas and such expressions, for they were the common language of both physical and sophistic speculations. Only Page has accepted Kuiper's arguments expressly (22). The question of authorship is certainly not soluble on this ground of argument. I agree in this with de Romilly (27), who studies these two fragments and notes their ‘Orphic’ tone, like West (also 27) – and both incline to accept authorship by Critias. Furthermore, everyone nowadays is more cautious in equating automatically what characters – or the chorus – in tragedy say, (p.62) with the playwright's own views, and deciding matters of uncertain authorship on such considerations alone. There is admirable insistence on this principle in the latest discussion of the long Sisyphus fragment by Davies (48) who declares the question of its authorship still open (and declines to debate the Pirithous). (vii) The well-known metrical test for dating Euripidean dialogue trimeters is no guide to genuineness. One may nevertheless hope to ask at least, is the proportion of resolved long syllables in the Pirithous fragments consistent with Euripides' general usage? Small fragmented samples of text are notoriously unreliable as a statistical indicator: Cropp and Fick have shown this in their recent BICS Supplement 43 (1985) esp. 22. Prof. Cropp tells me by letter his view of the Pirithous fragments: with all due caution about such texts, the 6 resolutions in about 320 iambic feet indicate that if this Pirithous is Page 5 of 11

The Pirithous Fragments Euripidean, it is unlikely to be later than about 420, and very unlikely to be later than 416. All the metrical test shows is that the versification is possibly Euripidean, not that it actually is so; and it can necessarily say nothing about authorship by Critias at all. [[190]] (viii) There is however one observation to make which looks more promising. In his note to F 1, Snell argues that because Johannes quotes sixteen verses of Pirithous immediately after summarising its narrative, so these verses must be the beginning of the play; he compares the style of the Euripidean hypotheseis which give play-title followed by the phrase οὗ ἀρχή and then the first line of the play, and then the hypothesis proper. But these 16 verses begin with ἔα ·τ ίχρῆμ α κτλ. ‘Why, what's this? I see someone hurrying here…’. So Aeacus, porter in Hades, hails the entering Heracles, who speaks at verse 5. If this is the start of the play, it is untypical of all Euripidean tragedies we know of, which begin with introductory monologues, except Andromeda which began with a monody (F 114), Skyrioi which began with an address to Clytemnestra (hypotheseis Fr. 19 Austin – unless it is an apostrophe), and Iphigenia in Aulis unless that too began with a genuine prologue speech by Agamemnon (49–114). When Hunt published POxy 2078 (17), he thought that the long expository speech by Pirithous (F 5 Snell) was the typical Euripidean prologue to the play. Snell prefaced his text of F 1 with – rightly if Aeacus indeed speaks the first line; but if Pirithous himself had a typical prologue speech, it is only a very strong probability that the whole play was set in the underworld, a probability which is greater if it may correctly be inferred from F 2 that the chorus was composed of dead μυσταí. Even this more promising aspect of F 1 is therefore inconclusive in respect of authorship. Any tragedian might set a play in Hades, for example (p.63) a Rhadamanthys; but if this Pirithous is by Euripides, it is difficult to believe that it began with Snell's F 1 – indeed that would be an active opening to a play untypical of all surviving tragedy. It suggests rather comedy or perhaps a satyr-play. The only comparable double-entry at play-start is in Lysistrata, where Kalonike enters at v. 6 to Lysistrata who is waiting for her (unless Aristophanes fr. 305 begins a play: see PCG III 2). There is another and much stronger reason for disqualifying F 1 as the start of the play. If it is the start, Heracles arrives ‘too early’, for the clear implication of the summary in Johannes is that he arrived after Theseus refused to abandon Pirithous. There would be no room after such a beginning for a scene in which Theseus promised Pirithous to stay and to face a ‘living’ death with him: such a promise would be meaningless, and dramatic disaster, after a rescuer's arrival had been signalled to the audience, let alone to the imprisoned heroes. [[191]] 6. Will the questions ever be answered definitively, whether Euripides wrote a Pirithous and whether our fragments all or mostly come from it? In the light of what the Life and Athenaeus suggest of an ancient doubt, and in the shadow still of Wilamowitz, would anyone believe even a new papyrus actually headed ‘Euripides Pirithous’? Why should not even that be doubted? Look at Rhesus, to take the obvious Euripidean analogy. Not many scholars confidently believe the text we have to be Euripidean. Those who disbelieve rely on their own judgement of its nature, and on the ancient statements of its spuriousness. Yet a fragmentary hypothesis survives among others to authentic Euripidean plays – as do hypotheseis of Rhadamanthys and Tennes. There is also the unceasing dispute over Prometheus. For Rhesus and Prometheus we have complete

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The Pirithous Fragments texts; for Pirithous we have only fragments and no sure way to arrange them all within what we are told of its plot. One fragment of the play (F 2) and the long fragment of the Sisyphus (F 19) are ascribed to both Critias and Euripides. How did that happen? Dihle (46) thinks that the Sisyphus piece, with its atheistic tone, was somehow associated with Critias if his name appeared – along with that of Euripides – in a list of ἄϑεοι, because Critias' behaviour as τύραννος qualified him for this list. Others, e.g. Mette (34), think that Critias suggested the themes of the four plays in Wilamowitz' supposed tetralogy to Euripides; or that Critias wrote up the plays on ideas given him by Euripides before Euripides left Athens for Macedon. There is no evidence for such closeness between the men. All these theories have been made because Wilamowitz built much on so little. I repeat, apart from the doubt in Athenaeus, there is no evidence that Critias wrote a Pirithous and there is no evidence at all that he wrote a Rhadamanthys or a Tennes. The great (p.64) majority of the testimonia pointed to Euripidean authorship of the Pirithous during Wilamowitz' lifetime; papyrus discoveries have since tended to confirm them – and Euripidean authorship also of the other two plays which Wilamowitz took from him. [[192]] Reference Bibliography Texts

(1) Book fragments: TrGF I 43, CRITIAS F 1–4, 6, 10–14. (2) Papyri: POxy 2078 (ii cent. AD) = TrGF I 43, CRITIAS F 5, 7–9. (3) POxy 3531, a further part of POxy 2078 (F 4a in TrGF I2 (1986) 349–51). (4) TrGF II adesp. 658 fr. a = PKöln 2 (inv. 263) fr. b = PFlor (PS1) inv. 3021 belong not to this Pirithous but to a 4th century BC play: see KANNICHT ad loc.; SNELL in TrGF I p. 178; LLOYD-JONES, Maia 19 (1967) 218ff.; LUPPE, PFlor 7 (1980) 141ff; XANTHAKISKARAMANOS, Proc. XVIII Int. Congr. Pap. (1986) I.412ff. Attribution (more important references only)

A: Antiquity (5) vit. Eur. p. 3.2 Schwartz (?ii cent. BC) τούτων (δραμάτων) νοϑεύεται τρíα, Τέννης Ῥ αδάμανϑυς Πειρíϑους. (6) Athenaeus XI 496a (c. AD 200) ὁ τὸν Πειρíϑουν γράψας εἴτε Κρίτíας ἐστὶν ὁ τύραννος ἢ ὐὐριπίδς B: Modern scholarship (references in short form only; horizontally in three columns, vertically in chronological order) CRITIAS

uncertain

EURIPIDES

(7)

VALCKENAER, Diatribe (1767) 197ff.

(8)

NAUCK, TrGF (18561, 18892

(9)

WILAMOWITZ, Analecta Euripidea (1875) 161ff. [cf. 13, 16, 18 below]

(10) NESTLE, NJb 11 (1903) 81ff. [cf. Von Mythos zum Logo (1940) 400ff.]

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The Pirithous Fragments

CRITIAS

uncertain

EURIPIDES

(11) DIELS, Fragmente der Vorsokratiker (19031) [cf.20 below] (12)

KUIPER, Mnem. 35 (1907) 354ff.

(13) WILAMOWITZ (1907) = Kl. Schr. IV 534 (14)

[PIETROVSKY (1918); inaccessible to me: see ‘Lambrino’.]

(15) VON BLUMENTHAL, Der Tyrann Kritias (1923) 25ff. (16) WILAMOWITZ (1927) = Kl. Schr. IV 446ff. (17)

HUNT ed.POxy 2078 (1927)

(18) WILAMOWITZ (1929) = Kl. Schr. IV 481ff. (19) PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE in New Chapters etc. III (1933) 148ff. (20) KRANZ in D.-K., VS (19355, 19526) II 380ff. (21)

SCHMID, GGrL III (1940) 170ff.

(22) (23)

PAGE, Gk. Lit. Pap. I (1941) no. 15 ARRIGHETTI, SCO 13 (1964) 109

(24)

[VYSOKY, ZJKF 6 (1964) 1ff., inaccessible to me: see APh] [[193]]

(25) WEBSTER, Tragedies of Euripides (1967) 6 (26) DEFRADAS, REG 80 (1967) 152ff. (27) DE ROMILLY, Time in Gk. Tragedy (1968) 38ff. [cf. WEST, Orphic Poems (1983) 191ff.] (28) BATTEGAZZORE in Mythos … Untersteiner (1970) 73 n. 1 (29)

W COCKLE, CR 20 (1970) 136ff.

(30) SNELL, TrGF I (19711, 19812) 43 CRITIAS F 1–14

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The Pirithous Fragments

CRITIAS

uncertain

(31)

LESKY, Trag. Dichtung (19723) 525ff.

(32)

SUTTON, CQ 31 (1981) 34f*

(33)

H.M. COCKLE ed. POxy 3531 (1983)

(34)

EURIPIDES

METTE, ZPE (1983) 13–19

C : other plays associated with Pirithous Tennes (35)

NAUCK, TrGF EUR. Fr. 695

(36)

hypoth. frag. POxy 2455 Fr. 14 ed. TURNER (1962)

(37)

JOUAN, Euripide etc. (1966) 303ff.

(38) SNELL, TrGF I (19711, 19812) 43 CRITIAS F 20–1 Rhadamanthys (39)

NAUCK, TrGF EUR. Fr. 658–60

(40)

hypoth. frag. PSI 1286 ed. GALLAVOTTI (19331, 19512)

(41) SNELL, TrGF I (19711, 19812) 43 CRITIAS F 15–18 Sisyphus (42) NAUCK, TrGF CRIT. F 1 (43) SNELL, TrGF I (19711, 19812) 43 CRIT. F 19 (44) SEXT. EMP. adv. math. IX 54

F I vss. 1–2, 9–18 EUR. trib. AËTIUS plac. I 7, vs. 35 ut vid. schol. EUR. Or. 982

(45)

hypoth. frag. POxy 2455 Fr. 7 ed. TURNER (1962); see Hypotheseis Fr. 17 Austin.

(46)

DIHLE, Hermes 105 (1977) 28ff.

(47)

SUTTON, CQ 31 (1981) 34f.

(48)

DAVIES, BICS 36 (1989) 16ff.

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The Pirithous Fragments (*) Only after this paper was delivered did I become aware of D.F. SUTTON, Two Lost Plays of Euripides (New York, 1987) which on pp. 5–106 claims to demonstrate ‘that the Peirithous is indeed a work of Euripides, on the showing of internal evidence as analysed in the light of the data bank of the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae’. The methodology of this book has been savagely criticised by E.M. CRALK, CR 38 (1988) 339–400 and A.-M. HARDER, Mnem. 43 (1990) 204–5. (p.65) (p.66) (p.67)

Endnote 2006 On Wilamowitz and Critias (pp. 59, 61): his 1907 note (13) was published more or less at the same time as Kuiper's ascription to Euripides (12), which provoked a sternly remonstrative private letter to Kuiper only recently published (J.M. Bremer, W.M. Calder III, Mnem. 47 (1997) 179–81 and 211–16); in it Wilamowitz repeated some of his earlier arguments and adduced new ones, some of which appeared in (16) and (18). He asserted in particular that (i) the uncertain ascription in Athenaeus reflected an Alexandrian dispute about two Sisyphus plays current in antiquity and that in such disputes the less prominent of two alleged authors was likely to have been the true one; (ii) the foisting of the inauthentic Rhesus upon Euripides suggested a parallel for the Pirithous texts' having been similarly foisted (cf. H. Holzhausen, Hermes 127 (1999) 291 n. 29); (iii) Aristophanes in Frogs 464ff. could not have modelled his unnamed ‘Doorkeeper of Hades' upon an unheroic Aeacus in that role in a recent play of Euripides, but might have done so upon such a figure in a play by Critias, at that time one of the Thirty Tyrants ruling Athens. Similar arguments are deployed, with (p.68) account taken of Wilamowitz’ published views, by Dover in his edition of Frogs (Oxford, 1993) 54–5. Dover there thinks of a tetralogy by Critias not performed but circulated privately; earlier, he had thought of Sisyphus as a tragedy, not a satyrplay, by Critias, Talanta 7 (1975) 46 = The Greeks and their Legacy (Oxford, 1988) 150–1; he thought the three examples of enjambement within twenty lines or so of F 19 (13, 18, 27) made attribution to Euripides extremely unlikely (a telling point); (iv) that similarities or individualities of language and style between Euripides and the Sisyphus fragment could never be decisive indications. The Bibliography in the original paper had in fact overlooked one or two reactions to Dihle's views (46) already published, and it is upon the authorship of the long ‘atheistic’ Sisyphus fragment that most subsequent scholars have concentrated discussion, with ascription of Pirithous implicitly following. In time order: supporting Dihle (Euripides): R. Scodel, The Trojan Trilogy of Euripides (Göttingen, 1980) 124–8; H. Yunis, ZPE 75 (1988) 41 n. 11, 45–6; C.H. Kahn, Phronesis 42 (1997) 242 n. 5; N. Pechstein, Euripides Satyro-graphos (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1998) 289–318 (much the fullest discussion and bibliography), repeated in R. Krumeich, N. Pechstein, B. Seidensticker (eds.), Das griechische Satyrspiel (Darmstadt, 1999) 553–5 (inclining to attribute the fragment, if it is satyric, to either Euripides' Sisyphus or his Autolycus); H. Lloyd-Jones, Mouseion III.6 (2006) 83; supporting Wilamowitz (Critias): M. Winiarczyk, WS 100 (1987) 35–45; D. Obbink, Philodemus on Piety. Part I (Oxford, 1996) 353–5 (noting that Dihle had overlooked Philodemus lines 521–8 in which Critias is expressly named as an ἄϑεος together with Prodicus and Diagoras and may therefore be inferred to have written the Sisyphus fragment); R. Kannicht in ΛHNAIKA. Festschrift … C.W. Müer (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1996) 27 (confirming the attribution as in TrGF I; see now also TrGF V.658–9 and 1107, with Page 10 of 11

The Pirithous Fragments further references); U. Bultrighini, Male-detta democrazia: studi su Crizia (Alessandria, 1999) 223 n. 574 (with further bibliography). See also J. Diggle, p. 105 n. 1 below. Two voices alone have supported ascription of Pirithous to Euripides, without mention of the Sisyphus fragment: R.J. Clark, CQ 50 (2000) 192; G. Dobrov, Figures of Play (Oxford, 2001) 134 (referring to D. Sutton, Two Lost Plays of Euripides). I have to admit that my confidence in Euripidean authorship of the Pirithous fragments has weakened; but the facts – evidence and not argument – remain as set out in the paper.

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy Rivista di Filologia e di Istruzione Classica 97 (1969) 157–79 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0005

Abstract and Keywords The polymath Athenaeus (2nd Century AD) is a literary treasure-house of quotations, many unique, from Greek literature, particularly verse and Tragedy. The paper assesses their number of these book-fragments (quotations in other ancient authors), and their accuracy when the source-texts survive complete, and by comparison their probable reliability when only Athenaeus preserves them. These issues are the chief subject of the paper, which begins with the author's methodology. It first takes account, however, of a problem in Athenaeus’ own text, the relationship between the medieval manuscripts of the complete work and an Epitome which, when the paper was written was attributed to the 11th Century Byzantine scholar Eustathius. Keywords:   Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius, quotations, textual quality, methodology

The investigation reported here had as its aims: first, to comment upon the problematic relationship between Athenaeus' Deipnosophistae and its Epitome; second, to assess the quality of the indirect transmission in Athenaeus of fragments of classical texts by comparison with the direct tradition or with quotations in other authors; third, from this evidence to form a view of the quality of the fragmentary texts which Athenaeus alone preserves. The confinement of my study to tragic quotations needs defence. Quotations from tragedy are numerous1 and appear regularly throughout Athenaeus, including books I and II and the beginning of III (la–73e) where the Epitome alone survives; as a selection they are therefore fully representative. The manner of their use is wholly typical of Athenaeus' method. Sometimes their scholarly source is acknowledged, sometimes not. Details of authorship, location in an individual play or the special nature of a play (satyric, for example) are often incomplete or lacking. Occasionally the quotations are worked into the artificial framework of the symposiasts' conversation – this may be in a straightforward way, a speaker simply using a quotation as his own words or incorporating it into them, or there may be interruption by the ‘narrative’, such as

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy it is. In general, there may be disruption of the original order of words (particularly common in poetic quotations anywhere), transference into oratio obliqua and in extreme cases paraphrase or adaptation to the context of the dialogue, even by facile substitution of words. So, for example: (p.70) Simple use as speaker's own words: 33c, S. fr. 757; 97a, E. fr. 469; 185a, Agathon 39 fr. 11; 362a, Aristias 9 fr. 4. [[158]] Incorporated into speaker's words: 376d, E. Or. 37; 612f, Aristarchus 14 fr. 4 = Chaeremon 71 fr. 3. Oratio obliqua: 562e, Chaeremon 71 fr. 16, E. IA 548. Paraphrase: 546b, S. fr. 12 (possibly scribe's error); 562f, E. IA 548–9. Adaptation: 494b, A. fr. 139.4–5; A. fr. 313a.2 Substitution of words: 156f, E. Med. 332, adesp. 92.3 I. The relationship of the Epitome The problem: was the Epitome made from Codex Marcianus 447 (A) before the loss through damage to that manuscript of books I and II and the smaller number of lacunae, or from a relative of A which contained a number of better readings or variants but has since been lost? For derivation from A: Cobet,4 Dindorf5 and Maas.6 Maas thought that all superior readings of the Epitome were within the demonstrable limits of pre-Palaeologean conjecture and not descendants of a tradition split before A (10th century). He attributed both the writing of the Epitome and the improvements in its text to Eustathius. [[159]] The latest editor of Athenaeus, A.M. Desrousseaux,7 inclined to a view of Eustathius as the promoter if not the author of the Epitome. For derivation from a relative of A: Kaibel,8 Clara Aldick,9 S.M. Peppink10 and – for a short time only – H. Erbse.11 Despite the remarkable thoroughness of his first investigation of the problem, Erbse had changed his mind by 1953 and accepted Maas's argument.12 It is no small thing when a textual scholar of Erbse's eminence suddenly abandons a position he has documented so copiously and joins forces with a former opponent. So far as I know, Erbse has not added to Maas's arguments, but simply acknowledged their cogency. Maas's view would unify the whole tradition of Athenaeus and the Epitome (A〉Epitome). Within the terms of the present discussion, the first stage in testing its validity is to examine the text of quotations where the Epitome has a superior or significantly different reading, and to determine if possible whether the improvements were within the range of conjecture, or whether there are any features of these readings which seem to point to their origin in a second branch of the tradition. The findings will then be related to the text of the quotations afforded by Eustathius and [[160]] and assessed against our general knowledge of his conjectural ability. Here are the quotations where the Epitome has a superior or significantly different reading:13

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy (p.71) 76d: S. fr. 181. 1 πέπων ἐρινός CE πέπον ἐρινός A. A repeats the error in the next line, where CE are again right. Was A misled both times by πέπονἐρινόν at the end of that line? 91de: Ion 19 fr. 38. 3 ὃς (sc. ἐχȋνος) CE ὅσ᾽ A 107e: the lemma of adesp. 91 ἀνέκραγεν ἀστείως· ‘ἀπόλωλα κτλ.’ CE ἀστείως om. A. The addition of ἀστείως is untypical of the style of the Epitomator's own alterations and small contributions to his text14 – but the word is wholly typical of Athenaeus himself: 60e παίζων, 130e διαπαίζων, 177a κατὰ μεταφοράν, 186b οὐ κακώς;15 he tries to enliven a lemma by embellishing the bare introductory formulae of οὕτως or διὰ τούτων and such verbs as φησί, εἴρηκεν, λέγει, μνημονεύει.16 153e: E. fr. 892. Here the Epitome has a number of small errors against A typical of discrepancies between anthologies in general,17 but in 3 the position is ἥπερ (sc. Δημήτηρ in 2), with superscript ἅπερ (sc. ἀκτὴ πῶμά τ᾽ ὑδρηχόον in 2) CE: ἅπερ only, A. Peppink's comment: ‘e margine non e cervello produxit Epitomator’. 158f: E. Supp. 861–6. 862 ὄλβῳ γαῦρος CE (and mss of E.) ὄλβων γ. A 303c: A. fr. 308 οὗτος καὶ ὄμμα CE οὗτος καὶ ὄνομα A [[161]] The correction to ὄμμα was made from the following line where a paraphrase includes the word ὀφθαλμός, but it needed a reasonably intelligent scribe. The correct text is in Plu. Mor. 979e τὸ σκαιὸν ὄμμα: the error in Athenaeus was of word-division (at transcription from uncial?), the last word of the lemma being ἀλλαχοῦ. 413c–e: E. fr. 282. 1 γε CEA γὰρ (above) recte C 7 καὶ ξυνηρετμεῖν CE καὶ ξυνηρετεῖν A (κἀξυπηρετεῖν Galen, Protr. 10). Comparison with S. Aj. 1329 (ξυνηρετμεῖν LA recent, and Schol. ξυνηρετεῖν recent.) shows that the natural error in copying is the loss rather than the supplement of the μ; but was such a supplement possible to an early Byzantine? Peppink (II. 1. XIV) argued that Eustathius would not have had cause to suspect ξυνηρετεῖν; Maas counterargued18 that the Epitomator suspected ξυνηρετεῖν because it is not found elsewhere, and corrected because he had read the Ajax. 17 ἄρας ἢ γνάθον CE (and Galen) ἀρσηγνάθον A: not a difficult correction to find in the context (δίσκον αἴρειν). 415b: Sositheus 99 fr. 2.6–8. 6 ὄνους CE ὅλους A. ὄνους in CE was an attempt to supply a noun to κανθηλίους.19 420b: Lycophron 100 fr. 2. 3–4 ὅ τ᾽ ἀλιτήριος Mενέδημος ἐξεχόρευε CE (-ευσε C) ὅ τ᾽ ἀλτήριος καὶ δημόνικος ἐπεχώρευε A. The substitution of the name Μενέδημος, which the Epitomator omitted in contracting the introductory lemma (420al7), is not untypical of his practice (Peppink (p.72) II. 1. XIX). The change in the prefix to the verb arose probably from miscopying ligatured ἐπε-. 454e: iheodectes 72 fr. 6. 1 γραφῆς ὁ πρῶτος ἦν μαλακόφθαλμος κύκλος CE κύκλῳ A. The end of the verse is corrupt;κύκλος is probably right, but if a correction rather than a copying error, was as easy to find.

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy 465b: E. fr. 896. 1 βακχείου φιλανθέος CE βακχίου φιλανθέου A. CE are possibly right (see Gulick in the ‘Loeb’) against Schweighäuser's φιλανθέμου: but the uncontracted form of the genitive can hardly be conjecture. If it was ‘error’, it proves nothing of CE's origin, for A might have erred and CE copied correctly a relative of A. 2 πεπαίνοντ᾽ ὀρχάτους CE πεπαίνοντοαρχάτους A: as in 413e (E. fr. 282.17) the Epitome gives a sound text where A abandons hope. [[162]] 477a: E. fr. 146. πίνον ἀνὰ ψυκτῆρα CE (and Eust. 1632.9) πόνωνἀναψυκτῆρ᾽ A. A is right,20 the other reading an unintelligent conjecture. 503c: A. fr. 146. σαύρας ὑποσκίοισιν ἐν ψυκτηρίοις CE σαύρας ὑπηκόοισιν ἐν ψυκτηρίοισι A. Maas21 defends A (with Valckenaer's αὔρας) on the analogy of Pind. Ol. 3.24 ὀξείαις ὑπακούεμεν αὐγαῖς ἀελίου. Comparison of Aeschylus' other uses of ὑπήκοος (Pers. 234, 242 and Cho. 304) does not help Maas's case for the echo of Pindar's metaphor, which is far less vivid; on the other hand, ὑποσκίοισιν would be unremarkable: fr. 188.8 χθόνα; figurative, Supp. 656 ὑποσκίων ἐκ στομάτων. Whether Maas is right or wrong to defend A, CE's text is most difficult to accept as conjectural. 528c: A. fr. 313. 1 παρθένου ἁβρᾶς CE (and Eust. 1292.53) παρθένοις ἁβραῖς A. CE are wrong (unmetrical: Eust. paraphrases), as in 2 λοιπόν CE λαόν A, where λοιπόν might have been meant for ‘in the future’. Perhaps both were deliberate, the Epitome here rephrasing slightly. 562e: E. IA 548–9. 548 ἐντύνεσθαι CE ἐντείνεσθαι A.22 Odd: Epic ἐντύνω occurs only once in tragedy, in E. at Hipp. 1183, and is very much inferior here, though in itself just defensible. I am inclined to think it can only be a copying error. 599f: E. fr. 898. 1–2 θεός; ἣν οὐδ᾽ CE (so Peppink) θεὸν ἦν, οὐδ᾽ A (and E, according to Kaibel); an easy correction for the Epitomator. 6 δεῖ ξον CE δείξω A: the imperative is a strange error, presumably scriptural. 600ab: A. fr. 44.1–7. 3 εὐναο εντος CE εὐναεντος A (εὐνάοντος Eust. 978, 25). It would be remarkable if A chose merely the hapax εὐναεντος from its exemplar, while CE made the unlikely miscopying of о for ε and failed to correct by erasure: CE copied a superscript variant. 613d-614a: E. fr. 492. 7 κομίζουσι with superscript σῴζουσι CE σῴζουσι A. The unmetrical κομίζουσι must be an old gloss which usurped the in linea position of σῴζουσι and indicated the common meaning ‘save to’ (IT 746, (p.73) 1068 etc.). Were it a ‘normalisation’ by the Epitomator (Peppink 1.15), it would stand alone. CE appear to derive from a text where the two readings stood together (cf. 600b), not A. [[163]] 636ab: Diogenes 45 fr. 1. 10 κερκούσῃ (so Peppink: κρεκούσῃ Kaibel) κερκούσαις A. Why has the Epitomator introduced the impossible dative singular, except by error (though he was clearly at sea with the word)? Could he have copied A? 640b: E. fr. 467. 4 πεπτὰ τοῦ ξανθοπτέρου (μελίσσης) CE πεπτὰ καὶ κροτητὰ τῆς ξουθοπτέρου A. The omission is unremarkable, ξανθο – a scriptural mistake only. 686a: Aristias 9 fr. 3. 2 ἀκρατέα CE ακραταιαν A.

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy In roughly half of these cases (76d, 91de, 158f, 303c, 454e, 562e, 599f, 640b, 686a) the better readings of the Epitome may all be the product of a normally alert copyist. In 420b and 528c the inferior text of CE can be attributed to deliberate rephrasing. The error at 636a may be (very) careless copying, but at 477a it is the result of bad conjecture. The first verse of E. fr. 896 at 465b is inconclusive, the second, like v. 17 of E. fr. 282 at 413e, shows a correct text where A gives nonsense, but represents a rather higher conjectural ability. It is more difficult to evaluate the remaining cases, ὑποσκίοισιν for ὑπηκόοισιν at 503c (A. fr. 146), if not ξυνηρετμεῖν for ξυνηρετεῖν at 413e (E. fr. 282.7), must be considered to lie at the very edge of early Byzantine conjectural ability. 415b is hard to make anything of, for modern scholars are no less unsure of establishing a basis for correction than the scribe of A (if he thought at all) and the Epitomator. In three places (158f, 600b, 614a) CE have the correct reading only as a supralinear correction or variant: A has only the one correct reading in each case;23 in 614a especially it is hard to believe the Epitomator has only A's reading before him. 107e seems to confirm that impression: the word ἀστείω, missing in A, is typical of Athenaeus but not of the Epitomator. The majority of better readings can plausibly be attributed to a scholarly copyist, perhaps even the Epitomator himself; like all scribes, however, he was uneven in his application, both in the mechanical reproduction of his exemplar and in his attempts at correction – and in those he showed variable skill (or luck). It is this inconsistency which makes it so difficult to delimit precisely the conjectural ability of the Epitomator with the precision necessary for an objective appraisal of [[164]] Maas's view. The very wide diversity and standard of the Epitomator's ‘stylus et doctrina’ sketched by (p.74) Peppink illustrates only too well the impossibility of a sufficiently firm characterisation. I believe, then, there does seem enough evidence to suggest as a strong possibility that in a few places the Epitomator had a source fuller than A. Of course, to accept that view does not involve attributing anything more than a minority of better readings to the wider tradition extant when the Epitome was made.24 Desrousseaux25 has argued with great probability that, despite its early date, A was at one remove from the initial transcription from uncial, and not itself the first minuscule exemplar. The supposition of at least one relative to A, not necessarily earlier or even coeval, is quite permissible. In any case, Dain among others26 has stressed that the older belief in only one initial minuscule transcript standing at the head of most medieval traditions is no longer justified, and that double or even triple transcriptions may have been not uncommon if not at all frequent. II. Eustathius Eustathius made extensive use of the Epitome, especially in his Homeric commentaries.27 Was he more than the probable promoter of the Epitome, in fact its first scribe and therefore the author of its superior readings, as Maas alleged? [[165]] Maas's argument for Eustathius is to some extent circular and internally self-supporting. It runs: ‘no Leitfehler has been established in A which the Epitomator could not have repaired by conjecture; such conjectures must have been made between 950, the approximate date of A, and 1175, the approximate date of Eustathius' Homeric commentaries, which show occasional

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy superior readings to the Epitome;28 the only Byzantine of that period capable of the quality of the conjectures in the Epitome was Eustathius; therefore Eustathius made the Epitome’. While Maas asserts the lack of a proved Leitfehler in A against the Epitome, he also admits the lack of proof of direct dependence of the Epitome on A. The attribution to Eustathius turns almost wholly on the quality of the superior readings; opinion whether they were within the reach of contemporary Byzantine conjecture must be subjective – and the matter is more difficult still when they are related to what assessment of Eustathius' ability we can make from comparable work elsewhere. The continuing inaccessibility of much of Eustathius' writings and the inadequacy of what editions there are (particularly the quality of their indexes) is well known. Maas's complaint29 of the need to isolate the individual contributions of the Byzantines to the texts and scholia they (p.75) handled is still almost entirely unanswered for the pre-Palaeologeans. What opinions of pre-Eustathian scholarship we have are not all laudatory;30 and even if it is right to see Eustathius as a man before his time, a foreshadower of the activities of such figures as Planudes and Thomas Magister, it may well be quite wrong to think of him as having had identical abilities, despite his great learning. Maas' magisterial articles, however, have in an unfortunate way pre-empted the question, for his attribution of the Epitome is already canonical, and Eustathius' conjectural [[166]] ability is thereby ‘established’: the evidence called to prove the case has become its demonstration.31 Peppink's attack on Maas's attribution to Eustathius rested on a demonstration of the inconsistency of the Epitomator's critical attitude to his sources, his own frequent offences against the syntax of Greek, and the inadequacy of his knowledge, particularly of such matters as metre – let alone of his native intellect – to reach by conjecture many of the variants or corrections attributed to him; these readings, Peppink alleged,32 must stem from a second manuscript source. Aldick had reached the same conclusion, but similarly did not deny the Epitomator an ordinary measure of independent critical ability.33 The examination of the superior readings of the Epitome in tragic quotations in section I has underlined the inconsistencies; it is noteworthy that a failure to characterise them more closely is the major weakness in Maas's case admitted by Erbse, who thought that much depended on them.34 How much, and its importance, I hope even this selective examination will have shown. Here are a number of places where Eustathius in his Homeric commentaries gives in tragic quotations a reading different from the Epitome (and in books III-XV, from A): 17d: S. fr. 565 3 πνέον CB πλέον Eust. 1828.30 4 ὀσμῆς CB ὀδμῆς Eust. 51d: A. fr. 116 μιλτοπρέποις CE EllSt. 1254.26 μιλτοπρέπτοις B χρόνου CEB χροιᾶ Eust. ibid.: S. fr. 395

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy γόγγυλον CB γογγυλλ* E στρογγύλον Eust. 835.9 60b: Aristias 9 fr. 6 πέδον ECB δάπεδον Eust. 1017.16 [[167]] 62f: S. lchn. fr. 314.281 κἀξορμενίζει κοὐκ ECB κἀξορμενίζειν κοὐκ Eust. 899.17 (p.76) 66b: E. Tro. 1173–7 1177 ῥαφέντων ECB ῥαγέντων codd. Eur., Eust. 757.4535 318e: Ion 19 fr. 36 τὸν πετραῖον πλεκτάναις ἀναίμοσι στυγῶ … πουλύπουν AEC ἀναίμονα Eust. 1541.43 375e: A. fr. 310 λευκός (sc. χοῖρος) AEC λεπτός ut vid. Eust. 1286.21 451d: Ion 19fr. 40 ῥάβδο AEC κλάδος contra metrum Eust. 865.15 477a: E. fr. 146 ἔρρει AEC ἔρροι Eust. 1632.9 ἀμπέλων AEC ἀμπελέων Eust. 546b: E. fr. 486 πρόσωπον AEC μέτωπον Eust. 1389.12 547c: S. Ant. 1165–71 1166 ἄνδρες AEC ἄνδρα Eust. 957.17 ἀνδρός codd. Soph.36 564f: Phrynichus 3 fr. 13 λάμπειν AEC λάμπεις Eust. 1558.1937 These cases illustrate well the variable skill and care of Eustathius both as a transcriber from a source and as independent critic. Their nature is quite consistent with his having been the Epitomator; one need only make a general comparison of the places noted in section I. None of the improvements is comparable in quality with such corrections as 158f, 413e, 503c, 600b, 614a, of course – but it could be argued that if Eustathius was the Epitomator he would hardly work as effectively for a second time on the same material, not least if Athenaeus was now simply a source for another book and not the prime study. On the other hand, there does seem

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy good cause still to withhold full trust [[168]] in Eustathius as the unaided source of all the superior readings of the Epitome; the possibility of additional manuscript evidence remains open. III. The extent of and reliability of Athenaeus' tragic quotations First, some approximate figures. Any count must be approximate, for a number of reasons: Athenaeus does not always quote ‘directly’, naming author or play, or even ‘indirectly’, naming the immediate source of the quotation, lexical or otherwise: sometimes he simply takes over what are transparently dramatic verses, and often the origin of these verses is still in dispute between the collectors of tragic and comic fragments; sometimes he (p.77) paraphrases or alludes, again often without direct reference to an author; a few ‘lexical’ quotations amount to no more than a single word.38 Athenaeus quotes directly from tragedy upwards of 250 times. 110 quotations are lexical in character, about another 100 made for the general content; some 30 or so are woven into the narrative framework of the dialogue, what we may call its formal ‘machinery’. In addition there are about 40 allusions to or paraphrases of tragic texts or vocabulary. Where he quotes directly, Athenaeus names author and play (and sometimes the character speaking) about 165 times; the author only, 70 times; the play only, once; no such details are given 25 times. He quotes from satyric drama around 55 times, and in 20 of these cases he either states the fact or names the speaker as a ‘satyr’. In 5 other places additional information is given, where Athenaeus distinguishes the unusual nature of a play. 8 quotations appear twice, wholly or in part (below, §1). 34 quotations are from texts preserved either in the main manuscript traditions (30) or papyri (4) (below, §2). 43 quotations appear wholly or in part as quotations in other writers, so that there is a check on their reliability also (below, §3). For something over 160 quotations Athenaeus (and often the Epitome or Eustathius) is the sole authority (below, §4). 1. Quotations appearing twice, wholly or in part (8)

55d Lycophron 110 fr. 2.9–10 = 420b (1–5 A, 1–4 CE); contexts unrelated and sources not certain (420: Antig. Caryst. p. 99 Wilam.?): 9 καὶδημόκριτος ἐπεχόρευσε ECB 55 καὶ δημόνικος ἐπεχώρευε A 420 Mενεδημοςἐξεχόρευε (-ευσε C) EC 420 (on the Epitome here, see section I, above) 10 τρικλίνου AECB 55 τρικλίνους A 420. 159a E. Supp. 864 (861–6 A and CE) = 250f (hab. CE); contexts unrelated, source at 250 Hegesander FHG IY.415 Müller: ψέγων τραπέζαις εἴ τις 159 μισῶν τραπέζας ὅστις 250; see below, §2. 183e S. fr. 412 (om. CE) = 635c (om. CE); contexts loosely related, but no other quotation in them duplicated. 1 τ ε om. 635.

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy 186d E. Bacch. 1129 (hab. CE) = 344a (hub. CE); contexts different, source at 344 ? Hegesander FHG IV.417 Müller; texts identical, but in 186 the quotation is said to have been used at table by Zeno, in 344 by Bion. 280b S. Ant. 1165–71 (1165–8 hab. CE) = 547c (1165–8 hab. CE); contexts identical; 279f-280b contains a little more material, but 547ab is added before the Sophocles quotation; no sources stated, but the introductory lemmata are almost identical. 1170 τἄλλα λέγω καπνοὺς σκιάς (p. 78) A 280 τἄλλ᾽ ἐγὼ καπνοῦ σκιᾶς A 547 (=codd. Soph.); so Kaibel; dittography twice in 280. 466f Achaeus 20 fr. 33.1 (1–4 hab. A; om. CE) = 498d (om. CE); contexts different, source at 498 lexical s.v. σκύφος. καλεῖ A 466 καλεῖς A 498 (dittography of σ). 564f Phrynichus 3 fr. 13 (hab. CE) = 604a (hab. CE); contexts different; source at 603e-604a Ion, Epidemiae (Jacoby FHG III.B.392.2.6) λάμπειν ἐπὶπορφύραις παρίησι A 564 (πορφυραῖ ς παρηίσι CE 564) λάμπει δ᾽ ἐπὶπορφυρέαις παρηίσιν A 604 (πορφυρεαῖ ς παρειαῖσι CE 604): forms of παρηίς are a very frequent failing in mss. 586d Python, Agen 91 fr. 1.14–18 (om. CE) = 596a (595f–596b 1–18 hab. A; om. CE); contexts similar, sources [[170]] perhaps so.39 16 παραπέμψαι A 586 διαπέμψαι (recte) A 596 17 ἔσται δ᾽ (recte) 586 ἐστὶ δ᾽ 596 18 αὐτοῖς 586 αὐτοῖσιν (recte) 596. Unfortunately we cannot know whether Athenaeus used the same source for all of these duplicated quotations, and it may be wrong to assume so; as in Athenaeus, so in his sources similar quotations may have been used to illustrate different points. In any case, variations between Athenaeus' versions must to some extent be due to the normal processes of corruption since the completion of the work. By way of illustrative comparison, here are five non-tragic poetic quotations also appearing more than once, chosen at random:40 57b Amphis fr. 26 = 277c; no sources stated, but at 57 lexical s.v. ῥαφανίς. 1 ὄψον CBcorr 57 AEC 277 ὄψειν EBac 57 ἀγοράζων AEC 277 ἀγοράζειν ECB 57 2 ἀπολαύειν AEC 277 ἄπολλον ECB 57 3 μαίνεται AEC 277 μαίνηον ECB 57. 96c Aristophanes fr. 506 (1–6 hab. A) = ll0f (4–6 hab. A) = 374e (4–5 partim hab. A); no sources stated, but all lexical, at 96 s.v. χοῖρος, 110 s.v. κόλλαβος, 374 S.V. δέλφαξ. 4 ὀπωρινῆς 374 ἢ ρινης 96 ὀπωρεινῆς 110 5 ἠτριαίαν 110 ἠτριεα 96 ἠτριαῖον 374 χλιερῶν 110 χλιαρῶν 96. 188b Horn. II. 3.156–8 = 566b; source at 188 ?Arist. NE 1109b9, at 566 ?Heracleides Lembos FHG III. 168 Müller. Texts identical, as one might expect in Homer. 230bc Alexis fr. 2.3–8 = 502f (1–8 hab. A; 7 hab. CE); no sources stated, at 502 lexical S.V. ψυκτηρίδιον. 3 παισί 502 πᾶσι 230 3 [τἀκπώματα]: both have this gloss; 5 (δὲ Grotius) τε 502 om. 230 δέκ᾽ ὀβολούς 230 δύ᾽ ὀβολούς 502 ACE. 284c Callim. fr. 394 Pfeiffer = 327a; sources not stated, but both probably lexical, at 284 s.v. ἱερὸς ἰχθύς, at 327 s.v. ὕκης. Pfeiffer assents to (p.79) Bentley's doubt which quotation gives the genuine reading: ἱερὸς δέ τοι ἱερὸς ὕκης 284 θεὸς δέ οἱ ἱερὸς ὕκης 327. [[171]] 2. Quotations from texts preserved in main manuscript traditions or papyri (34)

(a) Athenaeus has a superior or different reading (17) Page 9 of 20

Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy 4b: E. Ph. 1485 (lyric) βοστρυχώδεα ECB, giving hiatus βοστρυχώδεος codd. Eur. and Schol. βοτρυχώδεος Byz.: uncial confusion of oς and α. 23e:E. Cyc. 410 φάρυγγος αἰθέρ᾽ ἐξανιεὶς βαρύν ECB φάρυγγος αἰθέρ᾽ἐξιεὶς βαρύν codd. LP. Scaliger's φάρυγος and Porson's ἐξανείς restore metre, but Athenaeus preserves the more exact compound (cf. IT 1460, Bacch. 707). 36d: E. Cyc. 534 πληγὰς ὁ κῶμος λοίδορόν θ᾽ ὕβριν φέρει ECB πυγμὰς ὁ κῶμος λοίδορόν τ᾽ ἔριν φιλεῖ codd. LP. Desrousseaux comments that the remarkable difference here may be due as in many cases to ‘citation faite sans contrôle’;41 approximately the same sense is preserved in words not too dissimilar and of the same metrical pattern, particularly at verse-end: ὕβριν φέρει = ἔριν φιλεῖ. Both πληγάς and φέρει may be regarded as ‘normalisations’, conscious or not; but ὕβριν is almost certainly a deliberate adaptation to the context, for Athenaeus has just quoted the genealogy of Ὕ βρις in extensive fragments of Panyassis (13, 14 EGF Davies). 62f: S. lehn. fr. 314.282–3. 282 κοὐκ ἐπισχολάζεται ECB (and Eust. 899.17) κοὐκέτι σχολάζεται POxy 1174 (end 2nd cent. ad). The error in Athenaeus occurred at the transcription from uncial. 66ab: E. Tro. 1173–7. 1177 ὀστέων ῥαφέντων ECB ὀστέων ῥαγέντων codd. Eur. and Eust. 757.45. If Eustathius was capable of this not difficult correction (especially in view of his acquaintance with Euripides), why did it not appear in the Epitome itself? 99a: S. fr. 761 νηός AEC and Philodemus, On Poems. Book I 100.18 Janko (PHerc IV. 137.1.18): striking [[172]] confirmation of the form νηός, suspect in iambics and usually altered to ναός: E. Med. LPV1, IT 1385 LP, Hec. 1263 LP etc., Tro. 691 V; A. Sept. 62 codd. plur. 156f: E. Med. 332 λάθοι AEC and codd. Eur. ABVp λάθῃ codd. Eur. LP. The error is typical of the LP tradition of Euripides, particularly in the ‘alphabetical’ plays: e.g. Supp. 608, 643. 158f–159a: E. Supp. 861–6; 250f: E. Supp. 864. 862 ὄλβῳ γαῦρος CE and codd. Eur. LP ὄλβων γ. A 864 ψέγων τραπέζαις εἴ τις ACE 159 μισῶντραπέζας ὅστις ACE 250 φεύγων τραπέζαις ὅστις codd. Eur. LP. 865 τἀρκοῦν ἐπαινῶν ACE 159 τἀρκοῦντ ἀτίζων LP. Athenaeus' variants in 864 are due to faulty memory, τραπέζας in 250f perhaps because only one verse is quoted and its case unconsciously adapted to the participle. In 865 the (p.80) variation τἀρκοῦν ἐπαινῶν must presumably be deliberate, Athenaeus altering the text by making the participle parallel with ψέγων rather than subordinate to ἐξογκοῖ τ᾽ ἄν at the end of 864 as Euripides has it, and so giving extra emphasis to the maxim of 866 μέτρια ἐξαρκεῖν, which is the general theme of Athenaeus' context. 165c: PV 293–4. In 293 Athenaeus shares the correct reading ἔτυμ᾽ with Mcorr Tri and I against ἐτήτυμα of Other rnss. 294 χαριτογλώσσειν ACE Tri σὲ τὸ χ. M σε χ. or σοι χ. rell.42 Athenaeus' tradition clearly reaches back beyond the error in the main Aeschylean tradition which Triclinius was able to restore by conjecture. 280bc and 547c: S. Ant. 1165–71. 1166 ἄνδρες A ἀνδρός codd. Soph. (ἄνδρα Eust. 957.17). It is easy to understand the origin of the error ἀνδρός in the main tradition once 1167 had dropped from it – and its persistence there: it was either read as a makeshift complement to οὐ τίθημ᾽ ἐγώ or left as simply unintelligble. Athenaeus preserves 1167, which was nevertheless apparently known to the Sophoclean scholia. Eustathius says it stood in ‘τὰ ἀκριβῆ ἀντίγραφα’ – but this may be no more than his assertion that his source for the quotation was an accurate

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy copy of a reliable source.43 In 1169, Athenaeus is again right (ζῆ A and Soph. recc. ζῇ LA and recc.): the 2nd person was restored by Byzantine conjecture in the recentiores. 453e: S. OT 332–3. Athenaeus omits the words τί in 332 and ἄλλως in 333. What the quotation is meant to illustrate [[173]] remains obscure,44 but it does look as if the omission was deliberate. 562e: E. IA 548–50. 550 πότμῳ codd. Eur. LP τύχᾳ A: ‘trivialisation’. 600c: E. Hipp. 3–6. Athenaeus has a number of small copyist's errors against the main tradition. 613d–614a: E. fr. 492. 6 οἰκοῦσι δ᾽ οἴκους ACE νέμουσι δ᾽ οἴκους POxy 1176 fr. 39 col. xi. 11– 12: again, normalisation 7 σῴζουσι A and POxy κομίζουσι CE: see section I. 658c: E. Cyc. 136 Διὸς γάλα A βοὸς γάλα codd. Eur. LP. It is scarcely credible that the error in A was at any stage purely scriptural – yet what can have provoked so odd a replacement? There is nothing in the immediate context to suggest an unconscious repetition from another quotation. 700e: Aἴσχυλος ἐν Ἀγαμέμνονι μέμνηται τοῦ πανοῦ (284) 〈καὶ Εὐριπίδης〉 ἐν Ἴ ωνι (195, 1294) A. In Ag. 284 the mss of Aeschylus have φανόν;45 in Ion 195 LP of Euripides have πτανόν, in 1294 πτανοῖς with δαλοῖς superscript in L: these are odd errors of LP, for both passages alliterate on π. 701b: E. fr. 540 ὑπήλας A ]λας (i.e. ]λασ᾽) POxy 2459 fr. 1.2 (ὑπίλλασ᾽ Aelian NA 12.7). Itacism in A, but the forms of this verb are uncertain.46 (p.81) (b) Athenaeus quotes a text identical (apart from very small errors) with that of the author's main tradition (17)47 4a: E. Tro. 1; 4b: E. And. 448, 225; 38e: E. Bacch. 743; 40b: E. Bacch. 772–4; 66a: S. Trach. 781– 2; 186d = 344a: E. Bacch. 1129; 277c: S. Aj. 1297; 344a: S. Ant. 714; 347c: PV816–18; 362e: E. Bacch. 680; 409a: E. Here. 929; 420f: S. OT 4–5; 544e: E. Bacch. 317–18; 585e: E. Med. 1385; 640a: E. Hipp. 436; 650a: E. Cyc. 394. [[174]] Nearly all the quotations in (b) are short. It is of interest that of the 34 quotations in (a) and (b) a fair proportion, 6, are from the ‘alphabetical’ plays of Euripides. 3. Tragic quotations appearing whole or in part in other anthological, lexical or similar works (43)

(a) The text in Athenaeus shows differences from the other testimonia (14) 40d: E. fr. 328.6–7. 6 θεοῖσι μικρὰ θύοντας τέλη CE καὶ θεοῖ ς μικρᾷ χειρὶ θύοντας τέλη Stob. IV. 33.14 Hense καὶ 〈τοὺς〉 θεοῖσι μικρὰ θύοντας τέλη Grotius, Meineke. The Epitome (Athenaeus too?) omits the first two words of the line; probably the loss of 〈τοὺς〉 and assumed synizesis of θεοῖς induced the makeshift filler χειρί. 91de: Ion 19 fr.38.3 κρεισσόνων ὁρμήν A θηρίων ὀσμίαν Schol. I1. 15.714 and Anecd. Paris III. 387.10 θηρίων ὀσμήν Zenob. 5.68. The ὀσμ- for ὁρμ- would cause the invasion of the gloss θηρίων for κρεισσόνων. 5 δακεῖν τε καὶ θιγεῖν A (δὲ καὶ schol. II.) θιγεῖν τε καὶ δακεῖν Plut. Mor. 971f and Zenob. A is probably right here, too.

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy 158e E. fr. 892. A much-quoted passage; the differences between the testimonia illustrate well the consequences of quotation from memory, dangers increased by the very familiarity. They may be regarded as typical anthologists' variations, and I exemplify from 1 only: ἐπεὶ τί δεῖ A; Plut. Mor. 1043e, 1044b; Stob. III.3.34 (Trine., om. SMA), 40.9 p. 751 Hense; A. Gellius 6.16.7 τίνος γε δεῖ Plut. Mor. καίτοι τί δεῖ CE, Eust. 868.33 τί γὰρ δέοι Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. 1.271. In the quotation as a whole, A has the right reading in 1, 3 and 5, errors in 3 and 4, where the testimonia disagree. 159bc: E. fr. 324. Like the previous fragment, well known and much quoted. Among the many variations, two are of interest. A has 2–4 as follows: ὡς οὔτε μήτηρ ἡδονὰς τοίας ἔχει, οὐ παῖ δες ἐν δόμοισιν, οὐ φίλος πατήρ, οἵας σὺ χοἲ σε δώμασιν κεκτημένοι. (p.82) For the wholly Euripidean ἐν δόμοισιν, Stob. IV.31.4 Hense and Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. 1.279 have ἀνθρώποισιν; Nauck should have been dissuaded from printing this by comparison of the loose translation of the whole passage in Seneca Ep. 115.14. In 7 οὐ θαῦμ᾽ ἔρωτας μυρίους αὐτὴν (sc. Κύπριν 6) [[175]] ἔχειν A, for ἔχειν Stob, has τρέφειν, which looks to be supported by Seneca's merito ilia amoves caelitum atque hominum movet, A's ἔχειν then is a trivialisation. 270c: E. fr. 865 ἐν πλησμονῇ τοι Κύπρις, ἐν πεινῶντι δ᾽ οὔ A and Libanius 64. 107 Forster πεινῶσι schol. S. Ant. 781, alii. 413cde: E. fr. 282 This long and striking fragment (28 lines) is strangely only seldom and partly quoted elsewhere. 6 κτήσαιτ᾽ ἂν ὄλβον εἰς ὑπερβολὴν πατρός ACE εἰς ὑπεκτροφὴν πάτρας Galen Protr. 10: the Tightness of ACE is shown by a glance at Plat. Rep. 330b (the size of inheritances). 7 πένεσθαι καὶ ξυνηρετεῖν τύχαις (A: ξυνηρετμεῖν CE: section I, above) κἀξυπηρετεῖν Galen. The case for ξυνηρετεῖν ‘bear with’ rests on the coupling with πένεσθαι; that for ἐξυπηρετεῖν in the possible sense ‘do what is needed to be free of the disastrous τύχαι’ (though Jebb on S. OT 217 suggests this compound may have a sense similar to ξυνηρετεῖν, comparing Lysias 12.23 τῇ ἑαυτοῦ παρανομίᾳ προθύμως ἐξυπηρετῶν ‘indulging’). Unfortunately, the general context gives little help: whether it is to tolerate or to try to overcome poverty, Euripides stresses only the athlete's helplessness through his wrong upbringing (w. 5f., 8f.). 20–1 δι᾽ ἀσπίδων χερὶ | θείνοντες ἐκβαλοῦσι πολεμίους πάτρας ACE ποσὶ | θέοντες Galen, wrongly: the sarcastic question relates directly to the preceding one in 17–18 ἢ γνάθον παίσας καλῶς | πόλει πατρῴᾳ στέφανον ἤρκεσεν λαβών. Cf. Held. δι᾽ ἀσπίδος θείνοντα πολεμίων τινά, ib. 685. Galen or his source altered on the strength of ὠκύπους 16? 415b: Sositheus 99 fr. 2.6–8. 6 ἔσθει μὲν αὔτους τρεῖς ὅλους κανθηλίους | τρὶς τῆς βραχείας ἡμέρας ACE, but C has ἄρτους and CE have ὄνους: ἄρτους τρεῖς ὄνους κανθηλίους Myth. 346.21 Westermann ἄρτους ὄνων τριῶν φορτίον τε Tzetzes, Chil. 2.596 Leone. What are we to make of this? Can forms of ἄρτος and ὄνος (or κανθήλιος alone) co-exist? LSJ give no hint that the sense ‘three pack-ass (loads of) bread’ might be right, αὐτὸς τρεῖς ὅλους κανθηλίους ‘himself three whole asses thrice a day’ is quite possible (CE); it is odd that ὄνους appears in one of the other testimonia, but in CE is an attempt to supply a noun to κανθηλίους. In the rest of the quotation too A is no less at sea: πίνει δ᾽ ἕνα | καλὸν μετρητὴν τὸν δὲ καρποφόρον πίθον (CE Stop at μετρητήν) καλῶν μέτρητὴν τὸν δεκαμφόρον πίθον Myth, and Tzetzes, ‘he drinks the tenamphoreus jar, calling it one measure’.

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy (p.83) 420c: Lycophron 100 fr. 3. 2–3 τράγημα γὰρ | ὁ σωφρονιστὴς πᾶσιν ἐν μέσῳ λόγος A τράγημα δὲ ὁ σωφρονιστὴς τοῖς [[176]] φιληκόοις λόγος Diog. L. 2.140. Trivialisation by A in adapting quotation? Diogenes used the same source as Athenaeus 420a20–cl3, omitting Lycophron frr. 1, 2 and 4, but quoting all three verses of fr. 3 where Athenaeus took only half. 475a: S. fr. 660 προστῆναι μέσην | τράπεζαν ἀμφὶ σιτία τὰ καὶ καρχήσια A πρὸς γην· δειμι | τράπεζα ἀμφὶ σῖτα καὶ καρχήσια Macrob. Sat. 5.21.6. The start is corrupt in both (see Pearson), but Macrobius has kept the end in shape. 479b: A. fr. 57.6 χαλκοδέτοις κοτύλαις A and schol. IL BT 23.34 χαλκοθέτοις Strabo 10.3.16. χαλκόδετος is a purely tragic word, and clearly right. 561b: E. fr. 136.1–4 (4–7 only in Athenaeus). The great discrepancies between Athenaeus and Lucian de conscr. hist. 1 and Stob. IY.20.42 Hense show that this fragment was probably very familiar and so often misquoted orally. Confident reconstruction is impossible; in Stobaeus the first verse has almost lost its identity. 587a: S. fr. 502. αὐλητῶν Athenaeus and Harpocr. 210.5 Dindorf (cf. Hesych. s.v. αὐλήτην); Bekker restored the form αὐλιτῶν.48 2–3 θαλλὸν χιμαίρᾳ προσφέρων νέος παῖ δα | ἴδον στρατὸν στείχοντα παραλίαν ἄκραν A θαλλόν χίλια (or χιλίαις) προσφέρων νεόπαιδα | εἶ δον στρατὸν στείχοντα παραλίαν πέτραν Harpocr. Small copying errors in 2 in A (νεοσπάδα Casaubon, from Ant. 1201f.); presumably χίλια in Harpocration was a major blunder of the same sort. If Harpocration was interpolated from Athenaeus before the first epitomisation represented in Marcianus 447,49 the authority thus afforded ἄκραν in 3 by the presumable priority of Athenaeus may come into doubt, but πέτραν rather than ἄκραν is the more likely normalisation by an epitomator. 599f: E. fr. 898. In this long fragment of 13 lines there are no major discrepancies between Athenaeus and the only other source for the whole passage, Stob. 1.9.1 Wachsmuth. 602e: A. fr. 135. 1 σέβας δὲ μηρῶν ἅγιον οὐκ ἐπῃδέσω Athenaeus σέβας δὲ μηρῶν οὐ κατῃδέσω Plut. Mor. 751c. ἅγιον is doubtless a very late error (ἁγνόν D. Canter); the omission in Plutarch is odd. [[177]] (b) The text of a tragic quotation is identical with (or has only minor errors against) that quoted by other writers (29)50 Aeschylus, fragments (5): 17c: 180.2 (one word only); 67c: 211; 424d: 106 (two words only); 417f: 393; 494b: 139.4–5. Sophocles, fragments (4): 158f: 395.1–2; 67c: 606 (three words only); 277b: 762.1; 410c: 473. (p.84) Euripides, fragments (12): 158f: 893.1; 159c: 20; 421f: 213.4; 476f: 146; 546b: 486; 566b: 15.2; 600cd: 269.1 and 3–4; 616c: 183.1 (=adesp. 395 Nauck2); 640b: 467.4–5; 641c: 1052.3; 665a: 899.3–4; 677b: 189. Poetae minores, fragments (5): 185a: Agathon 11; 362a: Aristias 9 fr. 44; 45If: Theodectes 72 fr. 4; 562e: Chaeremon 71 fr. 16; 612f: Aristarchus 14 fr. 4. Adespota (3): 150c: 123; 156e: 89 (proverb); 187a: [94] TrGF = Paroem. Gr. 2.435, fr. iamb. ad. 24 Diehl.

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy The 77 passages examined in III.2 and 3 testify to the quality of Athenaeus' tradition. In over half (43) Athenaeus has the same text (apart from very small copying errors) as the main or other secondary tradition. A good proportion of the discrepancies where Athenaeus gives an incorrect or inferior text can be attributed to deliberate alteration by him to suit his context or to the commonest cause of misquotation in ancient writers, faulty memory. Deep corruption is uncommon. Often, however, Athenaeus affords a text superior to the main tradition or other testimonia, for example at 23e: E. Cyc. 410; 91de: Ion 19 fr. 38; 159b: E. fr. 324.3; 165c: PV293– 4; 413d: E. fr. 282.6; 700e: A. Ag. 284 and E. Ion 195, 1294; or important in other ways, for example at 99d: S. fr. 761 and 280bc = 547c: S. Ant. 1167 (unique preservation). In general, the quality of Athenaeus' tradition must in some measure be due to its comparative brevity (c. ad 200–950); besides, we are fortunate to have Marcianus 447, so near in date to the minuscule transcript. On the other hand, the examination of these quotations from tragedy yields one more encouraging indication that the processes of manuscript transmission as a whole have done surprisingly little damage to the texts. [[178]] 4. Tragic quotations where Athenaeus is the sole source (161)

Aeschylean fragments

27

Sophoclean fragments

44

Euripidean fragments

14

Poetae minores

72

Adespota

4

In addition, Athenaeus is occasionally the only witness for part of a quotation where other testimonia quote a shorter version. Athenaeus is thus the sole authority for a little under two-thirds of the total of his quotations from tragedy. We have to allow him a certain if rather delayed success in seeking to impress with the curiosity of his learning and the obscurity of his quoted material.51 The significant proportion of Athenaeus' quotations which are peculiar to him is a further (p.85) demonstration of the immense quantity of anthological, lexical and encyclopaedic literature of all kinds produced largely in the Hellenistic age and still extant in the third century, if already in epitome, selection or concentration. One of the striking features of the quotations unique to Athenaeus is the disproportion in numbers between the three major tragedians individually (Euripides is a bad third), and the closeness in total between them collectively and the minor poets. In these tragic quotations, my impression is that the quality of the texts is generally less good than in the remainder for which we have a check elsewhere – but in those, as I have shown, the quality is usually high. Minor errors, not only the purely scriptural ones, are more common, but there is also more frequently major corruption. This may well be a consequence of the unfamiliarity of the material as well as its internal difficulty, usually lexical. Some nice problems arise in the evaluation of these texts, and I conclude this long survey with two examples: 277b: S. fr. 762         χορὸς δ᾽ ἀναύδων ἰχθύων ἐπερρόθει,         σαίνουσιν οὐραίοισι τὴν κεκτημένην.

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy So A: Brunck's σαίνοντες in 2 is accepted by Pearson on the strength of an apparent imitation of the passage by [[179]] Achaeus fr. 27, also quoted by Athenaeus, which includes the line χραίνοντες οὐραίοισιν εὐδίαν ἁλός. Desrousseaux,52 however, defends σαίνουσιν as dative of the participle (dat. comitat.): it is lectio difficilior – but is assimilation of σαίνοντες to the case of οὐραίοισι likely? 679a: S. fr. 564         οὔτοι γένειον ὧδε χρὴ διηλιφὲς         φοροῦντα κἀντίπαιδα καὶ γένει μέγαν         γαστρὸς καλεῖσθαι παῖδα, τοῦ πατρὸς παρόν. From the Syndeipnoi; Odysseus taunts the young Achilles? (Jebb). Pearson collects evidence to support Nauck's emendation of γαστρός to μητρός and points to the same error by Stobaeus II. 121 Wachsmuth at Pind. Nem. 6.If. ἐκ μιᾶς δὲ πνέομεν | ματρός. But is Nauck right? Conington53 argued that γαστρὸ … παῖ δα would have the same abusive sense ‘mother's darling’ – may we refuse it for lack of a parallel to the expression, or should we simply accept the easy explanation of scriptural error?

(p.86) Notes Endnote 2006 Two major publications on Athenaeus have recently appeared. The first is D. Braund & J. Wilkins (eds), Athenaeus and his World (Exeter, 2000). Wonderfully comprehensive in its range, it includes papers bearing on the narrower issues discussed in mine, especially W.G. Arnott, ‘Athenaeus and the Epitome: texts, manuscripts and early editions’, 41–52, 542–3; C. Jacob, ‘Athenaeus the librarian’, 77–84; G. Zecchini, ‘Harpocration and (p.90) Athenaeus: historiographical relationships’, 153–60; C. Pelling, ‘Fun with fragments: Athenaeus and the historians’, 171–90; E. Villari, ‘Aristoxenus in Athenaeus’, 445–54; D. Gourevitch, ‘Hicesius' fish and chips: a plea for an edition of the fragments and testimonia of the περὶ ὕλη’, 483–91.1 refer below to these papers by author's name followed by ‘World’. The second major publication is L. Canfora (ed.), Ateneo. I Deipnosofisti. I Dotti a Banchetto, 4 vols (Rome, 2001), an illustrated ‘deluxe edition’ reviewed with high praise by J. Wilkins, JHS 123 (2003) 215–16; it includes a lengthy introduction by C. Jacob (‘magisterial’, Wilkins), Italian translation with generous commentary by a team of scholars, a Greek text edited by L. Citelli on the basis of Kaibel's, a huge bibliography (3.1815–84) and copious indexes; I refer to this work simply as ‘Ateneo’. A comparably ambitious annotated German translation is in progress: C. Friedrich & T. Notkers, Athenaios. Das Gelehrtenmahl (Stuttgart, 1998–). I cite tne toilowmg individual works, whicn are listed m order ot time, by author's name (with a date if necessary): P.A. Brunt, ‘On historical fragments and epitomes’, CQ 30 (1980) 477–94; L. Canfora, ‘Origine della stemmatica di Paul Maas’, RFIC 110 (1982) 362–79; M. van der Valk, Eustathii Commentarii ad Homert Iliadem Pertinentes (Leiden, 1971–87, with Index by H.M. Keizer, 1995); N.G. Wilson, Scholars of Byzantium (London, 1983); M. van der Valk, ‘Eustathius and the Epitome of Athenaeus’, Mnem. 39 (1986) 400; B. Hemmerdinger, ‘L'art d'éditer Athénée’, Boll. Class. 10 (1989) 106–17; D. Ambaglio, ‘I Deipnosofisti di Ateneo e la traduzione storica frammentaria’, Athenaeum 78 (1990) 51–64; J. Letruit, ‘Apropos de le tradition manuscrite dAthénée: une mise au point’, Maia 43 (1991) 33–40; W.G. Arnott, Alexis. The Fragments (Cambridge, 1996), Introduction 34–41 (on Athenaeus), and ‘On editing comic fragments from literary and lexicographical sources’ in D. Harvey & J. Wilkins (eds), The Rivals of Aristophanes (London and Swansea, 2000) 1–13; R. Quaglia, ‘Citazioni di Aristofane e della

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy comedia in Ateneo’, Maia 53 (2001) 611–33; P. Cipolla, ‘Su alcuni citazioni Euripidee in Ateneo’, Prometheus 31 (2005) 263–81. [pp. 69–70, and esp. n. 3] Not dissimilar to my study is Quaglia's of Aristophanes and Comic quotations (2001); he acknowledges (and largely follows) my methodology at 611 n. 1 (acknowledged also by Villari, ‘World’ 450, cf. 445). For Athenaeus' ‘accuracy’ see above on pp. 76–84. Athenaeus' readiness to adapt his quotations to his own syntax, especially by paraphrase, is remarked for Aristophanes by Quaglia 621 at n. 47, and for Alexis by Arnott (1996) 584, 628, 676. [pp. 70–4] The Epitome. Full bibliographies upon the relationship with Marcianus A are given by Letruit (1991) 33 nn. 3–15 and Arnott, (p.91) ‘World’ 542 nn. 18–25. Arnott has returned repeatedly to this question since PCPhS 196 (1970) 3 n. 1 (and is preparing a new critical edition of Athenaeus); reviewing all the evidence and recent argument, his judgement is like mine on p. 75, namely: ‘It is accordingly wisest to assume that the Epitome is not derived from the Marcianus alone, but used at least one other manuscript that was not plagued with errors characteristic of the Marcianus’ (‘World’ 50, cf. (1996) 39, 323, 593–4; (2000) 7). An early supporter of Arnott's view was Wilson (1983) 201–2. It had already been the judgement too of van der Valk, vol. 1 (1971) lxxxii–iv. While Quaglia did not have the question as a chief concern, his opinion too inclines this way: (2001) 612, esp. n. 8. Still supporting Cobet's view: Letruit (1991); T. Notkers in C. Friedrich & T. Notkers, Athenaios. Das Gelehrtenmahl I–VI (Stuttgart, 1998) xxix f. See also below on Eustathius (pp. 74–6). [p. 70] Maas's 1935, 1936 and 1952 papers were reprinted m his Kl. Schriften 505–23. Canfora (1982) gives a brilliant account of Maas's working methods; on 363 he shows that they developed pari passu with his study of Athenaeus, and he traces the development throughout his paper. [nn. 11, 12] H. Papenhoff: reported by Arnott, ‘World’ 542 n. 18 also to give the Epitome some independence from the Marcianus. I have found no statement by H. Erbse later than 1957; van der Valk, vol.i (1971) lxxxi n. 2 refers to the same date for Erbse. [n. 13] Arnott, ‘World’ 47 gives a full review of the mss. of the Epitome. Peppink's collations are at times faulty, according to Arnott (1996) 40–1 and (2000) 8; van der Valk, vol.i (1971) lxxx n. 2 makes the same criticism (and at lxxix n. 6 and cxlix–cii supplements Aldick's list of Athenaean loci in Eustathius). [pp. 71, 79] 158f–59a, 250f, E. Supp. 861–6: Cipolla (2005), 275–81 discusses Athenaeus' variants at length. [p. 74, n. 27] Dain's view is shared for example by L.D. Reynolds & N.G. Wilson, Scribes and Scholars (Oxford, 19913) 60–1. [pp. 74–6] Eustathius. A fine portrait of the scholar by Wilson (1983), 196–204. Maas's view that Eustathius himself made the Epitome has been ‘effectively scotched’ by van der Valk, vol.i (1971) lxxx–lxxxii and (1986): so Arnott (2000) 7 n. 14, cf. (1996) 39 n. 2. [p. 75, n. 30] Arethas: an appreciation of him by Wilson (1983) 120–35, with a judgement at 134 repeated in Reynolds & Wilson (above) 61: ‘not a critic of great power or originality’. Page 16 of 20

Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy [p. 76, n. 35] For Eustathius' acquaintance with the whole Euripidean corpus see now van der Valk, vol. 1 (1971) lxxxviii–xc and vol. 2 (1976) xlvii–1; cf. Wilson (1983) 204 n. 23. (p.92) [pp. 76–85] Extent and reliability of Athenaeus' quotations. For subsequent discussions of Athenaeus' ‘accuracy’, a criterion inevitably varying in accordance with his first or secondhand sources, his competence and above all his literary intentions, see Brunt (1980) (historians: 480–1); Ambaglio (1990) (historians: 63–4); Arnott (1996) 34–5 (cited by Jacob, ‘World’ 547 n. 36); (2000) 2; ‘World’ 41 n. 2; E. Bowie, ‘World’ 124–35 (early elegiac and iambic poetry); K. Sidwell, ‘World’ 136–52 (Lucian and fifth–century comedy); Zecchini, ‘World’ 153–60 (learned authorities); F.W. Walbank, ‘World’ 161–70 (Polybius: 168); C. Pelling, ‘World’ 184–8 and 188–90 (historians); K.W.Arafat, ‘World’ 191–202 (Pausanias); J. Davies, ‘World’ 203–17 (public documents); Villari, ‘World’ 450 (differences between prose and verse); Gourevitch, ‘World’ 484– 5 (Hicesius). Quaglia (2001) 620–1 is very cautious about ‘accuracy’ when comparing Athenaeus' quotations with the medieval ms. tradition of Aristophanes. Cipolla (2005) ‘confronts’ Athenaeus' text in eight Euripidean passages with those of other sources, discussing some cases of divergence from the main tradition. [p. 83] 587a, S. fr. 502: for the full history of the emendation αὐλιτών see Radt in TrGF. [p. 85, n. 51] Gudeman's figures are approximately repeated in OCD3 s.v. ‘Athenaeus’; some figures for individual genres and authors appear in the papers listed in the n. on pp. 76–86 above. [p. 85] 277b, S. fr. 762: Radt in TrGF regards τὴν κεκτημένην as a gloss. Notes: (1) . I give some figures in section III. I cite tragic fragments from TrGF ed. Snell, Kannicht, Radt (Göttingen, 1971–2004) and comic fragments from PCG ed. Kassel-Austin (Berlin, 1983–). (2) . See E. Fraenkel, Agamemnon (Oxford, 1950) 11.415 n. 1. (3) . For Athenaeus' methods see:K. Mengis, Die schriftstellerische Technik im Sophistenmahl des Athenaios (Paderborn, 1920) 45–108 (summarised by E. Richtstieg, Bursian 216 (1928) 1ff.); K. Zepernik, ‘Die Exzerpte des Athenaios … und ihre Glaubwürdigkeit’, Philologus 77 (1921) 311ff.; I. Düring, ‘De Athenaei Deipnosophistarum indole atque dispositione’, Mélanges Lundstrom (Göteborg, 1936) 226ff.; L. Nyikos, Athenaeus quo consilio quibusque usus subsidiis dipnosophistarum libros composuerit, Diss. (Basel, 1941), reviewed by J.K. Schönberger in Phil. Wochenschrift (1943) 169–73. Some useful remarks by Pearson, Fragments of Sophocles I.lv ff. (4) . Oratio de arte interpretandi (Leiden, 1847) 104ff. (5) . Philologus 30 (1870) 78ff. (6) . Byz. Zeitschrift 35 (1935) 299ff. and 36 (1936) 27ff., there enlarging on his view first advanced in Gnomon 4 (1928) 570f., but typically terse and magisterial. In BZ 45 (1952) 1f. (cf. Textual Criticism (Oxford, 1958) 51f.) Maas brought important new evidence for the date of the making of the Epitome: a scholion stated by the Epitome's scribe to be in its exemplar (at 525c) is to be found also in A in a hand later than that of the first scribe but earlier than Eustathius, the oldest witness for the existence of the Epitome. (7) . Livres I, II ‘Budé’ (Paris, 1956); see Introduction, xxiii n. 2 and xxxix. Page 17 of 20

Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy (8) . Athenaeus I (Leipzig, 1887) Praefatio xix (9) . De Athenaei Dipnosophistarum Epitomae codicibusetc. Diss. (Münster, 1928) 3 and 19ff. (10) . Athenaei Dipnosophistae I, Observationes (Leiden, 1936) 12ff.; II, Epitome, 1 (1937) ix ff., and 2 (1939) x. (11) . Untersuchungen zu den attizistischen Lexika (Berlin, 1950) 73ff. See also A.S.F. Gow, Machon (Cambridge, 1965) 27. I have been unable to discover the view reached by H. Papenhoff, Zum Problem der Abhängigkeit der Epitome von der venez. Handschrift des Athenaios Diss. (Göttingen, 1954). C. Gulick, the Loeb editor (7 vols, 1937–4), ignores the question, though he sometimes quotes readings of the Epitome. (12) . Gnomon 25 (1953) 441 n. 1, where he is reported by Maas himself to have abandoned his case entirely after re-examination of Maas's original arguments in BZ 35 – and, no doubt, the new evidence published in BZ 45. In a slashing review of Desrousseaux in Gnomon 29 (1957) 290ff, Erbse described Maas's arguments as ‘handfest’. (13) . I quote readings of the Marcianus (A) from Kaibel. For the mss of the Epitome I rely in 73e–702c on Peppink and occasionally Aldick for the prime witnesses, Paris Bibl. Nat. suppl. gr. 841 (C) and Laurentianus plut. 60.2 (E); for la–73e, where the Epitome stands alone, I have used the collations of Desrousseaux in the ‘Budé’ edition, who employs also Laurentianus plut. 60.1 (B): see D.'s p. xxxix. All these mss of the Epitome date from the 15th century. (14) . The ‘stylus et doctrina Epitomatoris’ are illustrated by Peppink I.15ff.; cf. II. 1.XVIII ff. (15) . Compare, e.g., 56f, 59c, 308f, etc.ὑποκοριστικῶς from grammatical or lexical sources. (16) . Athenaeus' introductory formulae are studied at length by Zepernik in the first part of his article in Philologus 77. (17) . See also section III.3 (a). (18) . Reviewing Peppink in BZ 38 (1938) 201. (19) . On this difficult passage, see section III.3 (a). (20) . Punctuate after σκύφος at the end of 2, not in 3: W. Vollgraff REG 53 (1940) 195. (21) . BZ 35, p. 303; so too Erbse, Untersuchungen 90: ‘the reading of CE is vitium volgare’. (22) . Athenaeus here uses oratio obliqua. (23) . Erbse, Untersuchungen 79f. lists 24 places where the Epitome has supralinear variants against A. (24) . M. Imhof, in Geschichte der Textüberlieferung I (Zürich, 1961) 303, has the same view, that even if the Epitome originated with Eustathius, ‘es zu dieser Zeit noch eine weitere Textquelle gab’ – but he gave no evidence for his opinion. (25) . Introduction, xxxvi f.

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Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy (26) . A. Dain, Les Manuscrits (Paris, 19642) 126–31; cf. Histoire du texte d'Elien le Tacticien (Paris, 1946) 120. See also G. Pasquali, Storia della tradizione e critica del testo (Firenze, 19522) 474f.; J. Irigoin, Histoire du texte de Pindare (Paris, 1952) 124ff. One example: there now seems good cause for believing that the tradition of the ‘select’ plays of Euripides relies on more than one minuscule transcript; a fully documented discussion of this problem, with reference to other traditions, by G. Zuntz, Inquiry into the Transmission of the Plays of Euripides (Cambridge, 1965) 262ff. (27) . There are upwards of 1750 entries in Aldick's (61–72) ‘Index locorum ab Eustathio ex Athenaei Epitoma exscriptorum’; additional material in Erbse, Untersuchungen 75 n. 6. (28) . I summarise Maas's argument of 1935–6; the upper limit is confirmed by the new internal evidence pulished by Maas in 1952. (29) . In Gercke-Norden, Einleitung in die Altertumswissenschaft I (Berlin, 1927) Nachträge I, 5. (30) . For example: on Arethas, inept at conjecture and perhaps indifferent to the idea of helping future readers, see A. Severyns, Recherches sur la Chrestomathie de Proclos I (Liège, 1938) 373f.; cf. F. Lenz, Aristeidesstudien (Berlin, 1964) 58ff. (31) . So A. Turyn, Manuscript Tradition of the Tragedies of Sophocles (Urbana, 1952) 126, speaking of the fact that ‘only in the second half of the XIIIth century the spirit of interpolation became so rife as to engender textual activities of the kind exhibited in the deteriores’, refers to Maas's articles as proving similar activities already by Eustathius. He instances, for example, S. El. 192 and 608, where conjectures of Eustathius have invaded the deteriores. (32) . II.l.X ff. On the inconsistencies, cf. also Aldick 30 n. 1. (33) . 16–31, esp. 17, 24f., 26ff. (34) . Gnomon 29 (1957) 292. (35) . For Eustathius' acquaintance with the whole Euripidean corpus, see esp. A. Turyn, Byzantine Manuscript Tradition of the Tragedies of Euripides (Urbana, 1957) 304f.; Zuntz, Inquiry 184ff. (36) . On this passage, see also section III.2 (a). (37) . On this passage, see also section III.1. (38) . My count is based on a reading of Athenaeus, not on Kaibel's Index scriptorum, and I have not compared totals. (39) . For a full discussion of this singular fragment, see now B. Snell, Szenen aus griechischen Dramen (Berlin, 1971) 104–37. On Athenaeus' sources, Snell (122 n. 44) permits himself no conclusion for the extracts of Theopompus with which the Agen is quoted. (40) . In these few passage, I give the correct reading first. (41) . Faulty memories and ancient quotations: G. Pasquali, Tradizione 188f.; B. van Groningen, Traité d'histoire et de critique des textes grecs (Amsterdam, 1963) 101; ‘accident and design’: W. Barrett, Euripides. Hippolytos (Oxford, 1964) 82f. Page 19 of 20

Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and Quotations from Tragedy (42) . See R. Dawe, Manuscripts of Aeschylus (Cambridge, 1965) 209. (43) . On 1167, see Turyn, Sophocles 107. (44) . See P.D. Arnott, ‘The Alphabet Tragedy of Callias’, CPh 55 (1960) 178–80. (45) . Attic φανός (φαεινός): Schwyzer, Gr. Gr. 1.489; cf. Phot. Lex. 377.21 Porson = 11.51 Naber πανόν· ἀπὸ τοῦ πάντα φαίνειν σχηματισθέντα κατὰ μεταβολὴν τοῦ φ. Σοφοκλῆς Ἑ λένη γάμῳ (=S. fr. 184 Pearson, q.V.). The form πανός appears peculiar to poetry: LSJ give beside the tragic passages mentioned, E. fr. 90 (conjectural in Rhes. 988), Diphil. fr. 6, Men. fr. 55. (46) . Schweighäuser wrote ὑπίλας, rightly if the root is FιFλ: Schwyzer, Gr. Gr. I.690; but cf. Frisk's Wörterbuch and Chantraine's Dictionnaire. (47) . I exclude 376d: E. Or. 37, two words only. (48) . ‘House-servant’ (αὐλή): -ήτης Schwyzer, Gr. Gr. I.500; -ίτης Frisk, Wörterbuch, following G. Redard, Les Noms grecs en -της, -τις (Paris, 1949) 37; cf. Chantraine, Dictionnaire. (49) . H. Schultz, RE VII.2415; cf. Pearson, Sophocles I.lxxxiii. (50) . I include here cases where Athenaeus has obviously deliberately altered the text to suit his context, e.g. 600c: E. fr. 269.1, and 616c: E. fr. 184.1 Snell. (51) . Cf. A. Gudeman, Grundriss der Geschichte der klassischen Philologie (Leipzig, 1909) 79 n. 1: ‘insgesamt hat Athenaios rund 10500 Verse erhalten, von denen nur etwa 500 auch anderweitig überliefert sind!’ (52) . Observations critiques sur les livres III et IV d'Athenée (Paris, 1942) 72 n. 1. (53) . Hermes 2 (1867) 142ff.

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Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998)

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998) Bryn Mawr Classical Review 1999.03.01 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0006

Abstract and Keywords The volume shows very high technical excellence and grear flair in conjecture, in a difficult task, the editing of fragmentary texts. As well as book-fragments (quotations in other ancient authors), a large proporton of those selected are papyri published since about 1900; they have greatly amplified our knowledge of ‘lost’ tragedies. More important, they have transformed our knowledge of satyric drama, with six otherwise largely ‘blank’ plays of Aeschylus and three by Sophocles represented in the volume. The review considers the original texts and scholarly publications upon them, and the editor's selection and methodology in presentation; the reviewer then offers detailed notes and suggestions upon many of the selected texts. Keywords:   papyrus discoveries, selection, editorial methodology, satyr-plays, Aeschylus, Sophocles

This volume deserves a loud welcome and louder applause. It contains in under 200 pages almost all the major Tragic fragments, including satyrdrama, in bare scholarly essential: Greek texts with terse introductions, ancient secondary or orientatory matter (such as hypotheseis) and apparatus criticus. The technical precision with which the texts are presented, the clarity of the apparatus and the numerous and often convincing conjectural interventions are exactly as one would expect from the acclaimed editor of Euripides, ἄνδρα … στεφανωσάμενον αἰνέσω (for James Diggle is a crowned heavyweight in this particular ring …). When has there been such a full selection before, let alone one of this quality? In a way the volume is a descendant of A.S. Hunt's almost forgotten Oxford Classical Text selection of 1912, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Papyracea Nuper Reperta; and it accompanies the similarly conceived OCT volumes of D.L. Page (Lyrica Graeca Selecta, 1968) and M.L. West (Delectus ex Iambis et Elegis Graecis, 1980). It appears amid the continuing surge of publications devoted to Tragic fragments, many pushed forward in response to the great enterprise of Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta itself (ed. Snell-Kannicht-Radt, 1971–

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Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998) 2004, of which Vol. 5, Euripides ed. R. Kannicht, has appeared since this review was written). Apart from TrGF itself, even the most noteworthy recent editions of fragmentary tragedians or plays make an impressive number: (p.94) for Aeschylus, H. Lloyd-Jones in the ‘Loeb’ (Vol. 1, 1957, pp. 526–603); H.J. Mette, Die Fragmente der Tragödien des Aischylos (1959); M. Werre-de Haas, Aeschylus' ‘Dictyulci’. An attempt at reconstruction of a satyric drama (1961); for Sophocles, R. Carden, The Papyrus Fragments of Sophocles (1974); D.A. Sutton, Inachus (1979); E.V. Maltese, Ichneutae (1982); H. Lloyd-Jones in the ‘Loeb’ (Vol. 3, Fragments, 1996) – and Prof. A. Sommerstein of the University of Nottingham has a project to publish an annotated edition of Sophoclean fragmentary plays; for Euripides, after E.W. Handley and J. Rea's Telephus (1957), the fragmentary plays as generally more extensive have received many individual commentated editions, some of them more than one (Andromeda, Cresphontes, Erectheus, Hypsipyle, Phaethon, Telephus). There are collected or selective editions: H. Van Looy, Zes verloren Tragedies van Euripides (1964); C.F.L. Austin, Nova Fragmenta Euripidea in Papyris Reperta (1968); C. Collard, M.J. Cropp, K.H. Lee, Euripides: Selected Fragmentary Plays, I (1995), with J. Gibert II (2005); F. Jouan and H. Van Looy, Euripide. Fragments, ‘Budé’ ed. Vol. 8 in 4 parts (1998–2003; Part I (1998) on pp. vii-x, lv-lxxxiii contains a definitive survey and bibliography of Euripidean ‘fragmentary studies’ since the early 19th century); most recent, N. Pechstein, Euripides Satyrographos (1998). After D. had published there appeared R. Krumeich u.a. (eds), Das griechische Satyrspiel (Darmstadt, 1999), including all satyric fragments. It is right to recall too the great impulse given to study of the fragmentary Euripidean plays by T.B.L. Webster, Euripides (1967) and R. Aélion, Euripide héritier d'Eschyle (1983) and Quelques grandes mythes héroïques dans l'oeuvre d'Euripide (1986); for the Minores there have been the chapters in B. Snell, Szenen aus griechischen Dramen (1971), the edition of some fragments in G. Xanthakis-Karamanos, Studies in Fourth Century Tragedy (1980) and Dramatica (2002), and the generous selection of texts, with German translation and brief notes, and with an Introduction by R. Kannicht, in Musa Tragica, ed. B. Gaul yu.a. (1991). D. has therefore had to take into account a huge range of work published since earlier and usually author-based selections from Tragedy. ‘Studiosae iuventutis in usum potiora tragicorum fragmenta ad arbitrium selegi’ (D., Praefatio v); ‘elegi … longiora ac notabiliora’ (Hunt, TrGFPNR); cf. ‘carmina vel carminum fragmenta praestantiora selegi’ (Page, LGS) and ‘… utile miscuisse dulci’ (West, Delectus). D.'s ‘potiora’, Hunt's ‘longiora ac notabiliora’, Page's ‘praestantiora’, and West's (p.95) Horatian dictum: what are the appropriate criteria for selection in such a volume and in such an OCT‘series’ as this? Authenticity and probable rather than merely possible ascription? Length alone? Completeness of content or self-containedness, as in the run of passages found in ancient anthologies, which yield the majority of book-fragments? Individual quality? General interest? Particular importance to reconstruction of a playplot? Adequate representation of a play-scene, such as a dialogue or a lyric part? Mere existence, even, as in the accidental survival of a papyrus fragment, of whatever length or content, and condition?

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Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998) Length – or brevity, rather – must be a chief criterion, even for the plays with the fullest outline; and in a selection which does not have reconstruction as an objective, it is seldom useful to include very mutilated papyri or purely sententious book-fragments. Selection ‘ad arbitrium’ (D.) must therefore rule. I spent perhaps an hour, certainly no more, scanning Vols. 1–4 of TrGF (Minores, Adespota, Aeschylus, Sophocles; Vol. 5 for Euripides had not yet appeared), noting fragments suitable for inclusion. For most, my criteria were either visual (sufficiently numerous and complete lines with a reasonable continuum) or swiftly impressionistic (whether a passage was self-contained or nearly so, and whether its content was of significance, interest or merit). The nature of Euripidean fragments dictates a different principle of selection from that appropriate to the other poets and texts, and I discuss this below. D. without question took much more than one hour over his choice; but the similarities and discrepancies between my instant selection and his more deliberate one may be of interest. In Aeschylus, we coincided in seventeen selections, including the obvious plums from (satyric) Dictyulci, F 46a and 47a; from (satyric) Theori, the fascinatingly metatheatrical F **78 (one or two asterisks against the numbers of Snell-Kannicht-Radt take a fragment further away from confident ascription); from Myrmidones, F**132c and 139; from Niobe, F 154a. D.'s total is twenty selections, mine perhaps twenty-five. He omits F 74 (Heraclidae), which I selected, and he was wiser, since this is a very minor piece of description. I omitted but he includes two heavily damaged papyri, F **168 (Xantriae), about thirty lines which contain matter relevant to ‘ritual’ studies and are of some technical interest because of the overlap with testimonia, and F 281a (play unidentified), about forty lines of a conversation between Dike and (?) Chorus in which the goddess describes her functions. He also includes F 350 (play unidentified), a bookfragment of nine lines in which Thetis complains that Apollo prophesied falsely her son Achilles' happy destiny; certainly this is of interest to readers of the (p.96) Iliad. I included rather more fragments, even short ones, attributed to Prometheus Lyomenus (D. gives F 190–3, *195, 196, 199). In Sophocles, we coincided m eleven selections, mostly from the big papyrus-fragments, including the obvious messenger-report from the possibly satyric and uncertainly authentic Eurypylus, F **210; parts of the probably satyric Inachus, F **269a and **269c; all that survives of the satyric Ichneutae, F 314; from Rhizotomi, F 534 and 535 (book-fragments), Medea gathering poisonous ingredients; the book-fragment F 941, the evocation of sexuality's tyranny (cf. Euripides F 897 and 898, from unknown play(s), selected by D. on his p. 167); and five bookfragments from Tereus, F**581, 583, 591–3. D.'s total is twenty-four, mine was eighteen, because I was too quick in passing over things which have either inherent interest or some value at least to the picture of Sophocles' survival: F **10c (Aiax Locrius), ten broken papyrus-lines in which Athena upbraids Ajax for raping Cassandra (D. compares Eur. Tro. 69–70); F 255 (Thyestes), a book-fragment of eight lines describing the miraculous growth and ripening of grapes; F 524 (Polyxena), a book-fragment of seven lines in which (?) Agamemnon doubts her sacrifice (cf. in general Eur. Hec. 120–2); F 555 and 557 (Scyrii), two short book-fragments, the first overlapped by a papyrus, evoking the miseries of sea-trading and the finality of death; F 659 (Tyro), a bookfragment of ten lines perhaps represented in a papyrus, a striking simile for a girl whose hair is forcibly shorn; and two more fragments incertae sedis, F 871 and **1130. From the Minores, D. includes only pieces from Critias, Pirithous (TrGF Vol. 1, 43 F 1, 4a, 5, 7) and Sisyphus (F 19), and from Neophron's Medea (15 F 1–3). The dramatic and compositional interest of these is incontestable, not least because there is still dispute over ascription to Critias.1 I made a rather wider selection, wanting also Agathon 39 F 4, together with Theodectes

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Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998) 72 F 6, and the possible antecedent to both these descriptions (in unidentified plays) of the Greek letters making the name of Theseus, Euripides F 382 (Theseus); Carcinus 70 F 5 (play unknown), a book-fragment of ten lines, in which Carcinus, an immigrant to Syracuse, aetiologises the cult of Sicilian Demeter; Chaeremon 71 F 14 (Oeneus), the lush description of exhausted moonlit dancers; Diogenes Sinopensis 88 F 7, a book-fragment of twelve lines describing asceticism; Moschus 97 F 6, the well-known book-fragment of thirty-three lines evoking man's rise to civilisation, useful for students to set beside e.g. the Prometheus 442–506, Soph. Ant. 332–75, Eur. Supp. 201–18 – and Critias, Sisyphus F 19, selected by D. himself on pp. 177–9; Sositheus 99 F 2, a book-fragment of twenty-one lines describing Lityerses the murderous host, of comparative (p.97) mythological interest. This last piece is textually very corrupt (although this criterion cannot bar papyri from inclusion), but the others could claim a place on grounds of content or style, to illustrate both the continuing and the changing condition of Tragedy. Like D., I did not choose the sadly mutilated but extraordinarily interesting fragments of (?) Astydamas the Second's apparently famous Hector (60 F **l.h and i, **2a), or two things to be reasonably disqualified on grounds of genre, Python's Agen (91 F 1) and the singular Exagoge of Ezechiel (128), despite the latter's continuum of 269 lines; to have included Exagoge would perhaps have invited desire for at least a sample from the Christus Patiens. The Hector has recently been edited and studied by Xanthakis-Karamanos, Studies, pp. 162–9 (above), Agen is available in Snell, Szenen, pp. 104–37 (above), and Exagoge has received a full annotated edition from H. Jacobson (1983). From the Adespota D. selects only the best-preserved part of the much-discussed (?) Gyges papyrus (TrGF Vol. 2, F 664.18–33). I chose also three fragments of comparative interest to other plays: F *8.1, a book-fragment of eleven lines perhaps from a Rhesus, in which Hera urges upon Athena the need to punish Paris for his insult in the Judgement (cf. the surviving Rhesus 595 ff.; D. has however edited this fragment in his OCT of Euripides, Vol. 3 p. 431); F 129, a book-fragment of nine lines on the power of gold (cf. Soph. F 88, from Aleadae, included by D. on p. 35, and Euripides, Danae F 324, not included); and F 665, from a Seven against Thebes, twenty or so papyrus lines in which Polynices, Jocasta and Eteocles fail to achieve reconciliation (cf. the agon of Eur. Pho. 355–637). For Euripides, the considerations are quite different. First, there is the very large number of fragments from plays whose outline can be reconstructed with more confidence, usually on the basis of papyrus-pieces; here, judicious selection or, much more often, omission among the bookfragments has to be made, and D. chooses only a very few which are of strong individual interest (see e.g. Bellerophon and Stheneboea). Furthermore, such book-fragments may conveniently be read, with useful discussion, in editions of the individual plays (see the paragraph on p. 94 above). In Antiope it is noteworthy (and in my view correct) that D. accepts Luppe's attribution of POxy 3317 to this play rather than to Antigone (where Kannicht keeps it still, as F *175; so too Jouan and Van Looy in the Budé-Euripides [above]).2 In this category of play I miss something at least from Andromeda, even the scraps of the remarkable anapaestic opening monody, F 114–17. Oedipus too is unrepresented, despite the overlapping of two book-fragments by the very damaged POxy 2459, one of them the striking description of changing hues reflected from the Sphinx's back (formerly (p.98) Adespota F 541 Nauck2); and I would have included under Oedipus the purely trochaic F 909 Nauck2, which seems to cohere with the tetrameters attested for the play as F 545 and which is to be admitted by Kannicht as F *545a (cf. Austin, NFEPR on his Fr. 88 = F 545).

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Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998) Second, there is the problem of selecting from the many Euripidean book-fragments which are of little or no significance to reconstruction and whose style or sententious content are so frequently matched in passages in the surviving plays, where the known dramatic context gives them vitality. An overriding independent interest must be the criterion. Everyone will have expected to find F 282 selected, the condemnation of athletics (Autolyeus ‘A’), and it is (p. 96), as also (p. 166) is the celebration of Earth and Ether, much pondered in antiquity, F 839 (Chrysippus: how one would like to know what bearing and location it had in the play!). Among the rootless fragments I marked out for selection just F 897, 898, 910 and 912, exactly the four which D. chooses. Now to the meat of it: what do we get to aid our reading? D.'s Praefatio is very brief, describing the background to his work but, most importantly, listing his separate papers upon the play-texts selected, all of them published subsequently to his Euripidea (1994); these bare references, like the statement ‘Papyros … inspexi’, hardly suggest the very thorough and often important fresh scrutiny to which he has subjected not just the primary evidence, but also the legions of editorial conjectures upon these fragments, many of them in fairly inaccessible places. D.'s editorial changes in his main text, and many suggestions confined to his apparatus, can only be fully understood upon studying these papers – and often it is essential to have the volumes of SnellKannicht-Radt open as well. I single out the papers on Ichneutae in ZPE 112 (1996) and Antiope in PCPS 42 (1996) for his productive re-examination of papyri, and AntClass 65 (1996) for his work upon Phaethon since his already and unprecedentedly full edition of 1970. For many plays where it is possible to get some hold upon the plot as a whole, or upon the action of at least an individual scene, D. gives us a terse headline summary of content; he cites ancient hypotheseis, of whatever pedigree, where they are useful (Sophocles, Niobe; Euripides, Alexander, Melanippe Sophe, Stheneboea, Hypsipyle, Phaethon, Phrixus ‘A’ and ‘B’), or for Euripides cites Hyginus (Antiope, Phrixus ‘A’). Thereafter, we are largely on our own, as in almost any OCT. D. leaves questions of authenticity mostly to inference from the single or double asterisks attached to fragment-numbers (see above). Comparative material, explanations and brief comments upon his own or others' conjectures are infrequent, much rarer than in the Euripides edition: Aesch. F **132c.3 (p. 18), 281a.29 (30), 350.1 (p.99) (32); Soph. F **210.52 (38), 269a.34 (42), 314.183 (53), 535.4 (69), 555.3 (70); Eur. F 360.42 (103), 453.9 (114), Sthen. hypothesis 3 (128); and Critias F 19.18-19 (177) exemplify the range; and these few give appetite for more. The extraordinary number and high quality of his own fresh conjectures upon the text, including very many supplements exempli gratia, and their general significance to the plays, will become clear from the following detailed but far from exhaustive notes (many fragments required very close reading and challenged me to try my own hand at conjecture or supplement – perhaps predictably with the very few results which I care to acknowledge here!). It is understandable that D. offers more conjectures and supplements in the newer papyri than in the older ones and the long-known book-fragments. As in his OCT of Euripides he nevertheless occasionally leaves obeli in the text and cites hardly a conjecture, or advances none of his own; in these places his restraint is invariably well reasoned and I too found myself almost always helpless to make a suggestion. In the following notes the line-numbers withm fragments are those of D.'s volume and not necessarily the same as those of Snell-Kannicht-Radt, Nauck or editiones principes of papyri. I refer in abbreviated form to D.'s papers listed in his Praefatio (see above).

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Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998) Aeschylus: the very first fragment in the volume makes a methodological test-case for selection: in Glaucus Pontius F 25e only the conjectural supplements of 5–6 make it seem reasonable to include the extremely mutilated 1–4; for D.'s supplement in 12 see MusCrit 30–1 (1995–6). At Danaides F 44.6–7 D. rightly prefers Hermann to Diels (favoured by Luppe, GGA 239 (1987) 27). Dictyulcl. in F 46a.l0 D.'s γ᾽ for τ᾽ emphasises the diune deity Poseidon-Zeus in conformity with the testimonia; F 47a.25 and 48 πάπ〈π〉ας, 37, 46, 47 and 54 Doric forms restored; note Doric φ ίντων, an endearment (see LSJ Revised Supplement (1996), 307). 68 λαμπραȋς τῆς Ἀ[φ]ροδίτης brilliantly D., MusCrit (above). Edoni (p. 10): the heading ‘prima Λυκουργείας fabula’ leaves rather a lot for readers to infer about the content. In contrast for Theori or Isthmiastae on p. 11 D. offers an extremely helpful summary of presumable content; F **78.1 no fewer than five conjectural supplements are recorded; 12 καλλίγραπτον and 35 χρήματα are the sort of places where glossing might help; 25 D.'s is very attractive (MusCrit). Cares or Europa: F**99.16 αἰχμῆς εἰ ᾽ξ by D. improves Francken. Myrmidones: F **132c: for ; 18 supplements ex. gr. in 3, 7, 10; an attractive new reading in 16, ἀπανθίζων suggested in . Niobe F 154a: it says much for the energy and acuity of many earlier scholars that D. has felt unable to suggest anything new in this papyrus. Xantriae F**168.21: if at the start can connote (p.100) ‘brilliant, happy’, D.'s looks probable. Prometheus Lyomenus F 192.4 μελάνων τρόφον Αἰθιόπων attractively for †παντοτρόφον† Aἰθ, (cf. Eur. Phaethon 4, p. 151). (fab. incert.) F 281a.29 καρπουμένη sc. πόλις (28) D., citing KG 1.80 (cf. MusCrit), is far better than καρπουμένη[ς (πόλεως) or -η[ι (πάλει); other attractive suggestions in 32, 34 and 36. Sophocles (where D. leaves m his text much more that is corrupt or uncertain than does LloydJones in the differently intentioned ‘Loeb’): Aias Locrius F **10c: D.'s methodology perhaps does not allow him to mention that this fragment could be more confidently ascribed to the play if Haslam is right in adding 9–10 to the securely attributed F 15a (not selected); and it is a pity that the seventy-one scraps of this papyrus are so insubstantial that it cannot be known whether they belong to one play, and to this one. In line 2 D. is certainly right to prefer καινòς to κλεȋνος or κεȋνος as a possible reading of the (corrected) papyrus, given that Athena's question in 1 starts with ποίου ∆ρύαντος …; in 9 κρηπȋδος (D.) ἐξέσ]τρεψεν (LI.-J.) makes a convincing combination, printed by both. Achillis Erastae F 149.6: D. obelises almost all of line 6 including χυμὸς, and he cites only Meineke's κρυμὸς; both seem better than Dobree's θυμὸς, printed by Radt and LI.-J. χυμός can perhaps be retained, either literal as ‘melt-water’ (cf. χῦμα νιφάδος Alciphr. 1.23) or metaphorical as ‘taste, flavour’, ambiguous both of snow and love in the sequence of ideas – but the latter seems to require a passive, possibly ἑθῇ for ἀφῇ. Eurypylus F **210: despite the double asterisk, D. could perhaps have ventured more upon the problematic ascription and indeed title, beyond the citation of Plut.Mor. 458d against lines 8–9. In 9 D. only hazards, but LI.-J. has printed, his conjecture ἠραξάτην for Plut.'s έρρηξάτην (which, if LS J are right, is a unique use of the intransitive active); 47 τοῖν [ν]εκροῖν for τον [ν]εκρον is very good, and certainly a dative is needed; the two dead are named in D.'s note on 52; 66 neither λυγρò]ν (Wilamowitz) nor πικρò]ν (Hunt) seems quite right here as adjectival with (ἐρρόθει) στόμα perhaps ἁδινò]ν? Inachus F **269a: excellent supplements ex. gr. in 22, 30–1, 32 (a useful note in the apparatus), 32–3 by D., all but the first printed by Ll.–J.; in F **269a.l8 D. suggests reading εὖ rather as Epic ἐύ. Ichneutae F 314: D.'s fresh scrutiny of POxy 2369 in ZPE 112 (1996) variously supports or questions earlier readings or conjectures; see particularly 17, 110, 120, 122, 145, 147, 217, 242, 282, 367. I note here his attractive supplements in 39, 41, 42, 45, 47 (where τελῶν either as present or future properly accommodates τάδε); in 50 he corrects papyrus to ἢν, cf. 74 and 171; because he prints the whole papyrus, D. includes the very mutilated 64–75; Ll.-J. does not, but might have done, since the excited staging of a search about Page 6 of 11

Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998) to begin is readily intelligible (and was vividly (p.101) evoked in the 1997/8 British performance by Chloe Productions); in 114 [μένο]ς του φθ[έγγματος suits both space and sense (ποιμήν again in 160); in 133 D.'s τ[ίς ἡ τάραξ]ις is printed by LI.-J., and seems superior to D.'s apparently preferred alternative τ[ί κρᾶτα σείε]ις; For his acceptance of Walker's in 147 and ἐνήλατ᾽ ἄξυλ᾽ ἀρτίγομφα in 316, and Bucherer's άθύρων in 326, one really needs to read ZPE. D. plausibly suggests printing questions in 178 and 224; his excellent suggested supplement in 217 is printed by Ll.–J.; in 226 his correction of φέρων to φορῶν is certain, like his 3pl. in 234; in 267 his κρυφ[αίως may be better than Radt's κρυφ[αῖ¿ς and is certainly better than Hunt's κρυφ[αίαν; in 272 his βρέφος is preferable to Wilamowitz' τοῦτον; in 333, if papyrus πορεύω is right, the intransitive active is unique, so that D.'s πολεύω, versor, commends itself, preferably with his ὧιπερ (‘causal’, ZPE) rather than Hunt's οἷπερ Finally, I have to agree with D. that 369–70 ‘non intelleguntur’, pace Ll.–J. in the ‘Loeb’. Niobe: p. 64 hypothesis', good supplements ex. gr. in fr. 1.12, 13 and fr. 2.23, 26; in F **442 D. makes a tiny improvement upon Snell's punctuation. Rhizotomi F 534.6: D. daggers the asyndetic participle βοῶσ᾽, accepted by Ll.–J.; will βοαῖς work here? For άλαλαζομένη he writes ὀλολυζομένη, citing his important discussion of this verb at Euripidea 479. Tereus F 583.2: †ἔβλεψα† (ταύτηι) may perhaps be defended (with Ll.–J.), although LSJ cite only the accusative of a direct object with this verb, as ‘behold’ rather than in the sense ‘view with thought’ required here; cf. Eur. Hipp. 379 τῆιδ᾽ ἀθρητέον τόδε. Tyro F 659: D. obelises 6–7 and cites a few conjectures, but this is one of the places where one wishes he had tried one of his own. So too in the obelised F 941.7–8 (fab. incert.); Radt's apparatus shows how scholars have wriggled to save the text, but I too see no rescue; D. transfers 12 to follow 8, for then 13 ‘gods’ follow better upon 9–11 ‘animals’ – but where is ‘man’? Radt and Ll.-J. mark a lacuna. Euripides (I must again acknowledge my own and Martin Cropp's gratitude to James Diggle for allowing us to print many of his readings and conjectures in SFPl in advance of his separate papers and now this volume; I do not discuss them here): Alexander F 46.2: D.'s βρ[έφος διώλεσα is as good as Snell's βρ[έφος κατέκταμεν, but perhaps neither is as good as Lee's βρ[έφος κτανεῖνἔτλην (cited by D.), where ἔτλην will be well picked up by 3 τλήμων γε Πρίαμος; and D. records my own suggestion in 4 ὡς ἴσμεν οἱ παθόντες ο[ἱ τλάντες θ᾽ ἅμα. At 1. 12 D.'s στείχουσα]ν better matches the space (and idiom: see his CQ 47 (1997)) than e.g. Wilamowitz' ἥκουσα]ν. F 62a. 1: D.'s text and apparatus reproduce his report in CQ of Lee, who reads and conjectures 4 ∆ηίφοβον]; possibly before εκτ in the papyrus; so D. prints 2 this and 8 μεγάλα νο]μίζει are both very (p.102) probable; F62d.8 ἵκοιτο δ]εῦρό 〈γ᾽〉 εἰς κτλ., similarly. Antiope: the seventeen appearances of D.'s name in the apparatus do not fully represent his achievement in these fragments: one needs his separate papers to hand. I single out F 187.4, where D.'s apparatus modestly conceals that he had reached, on the basis of analysis of Euripides' idiom (CQ (1997)), the unquestionable correction οἴκοι κἀν πόλει before he found he had been anticipated by a ‘bald’ conjecture of R.J. Walker (a private scholar and a most intriguing figure, as the Prefaces to his various books reveal; for D.'s acceptance of his ideas, see also on Soph. Ichneutae 147 and 316 above). Then, F*175 (POxy 3317: for the attribution, see above), where there are particularly attractive supplements in 2 and 10: see D.'s APfAl (1996). Last, F 223 (PPetr 1.1–2), where D.'s work is again of exceptional quality (note the ‘Budé’ editor: ‘nous reproduisons pour l'essentiel ses leçons’): for his collation of the papyrus see, together with PCPS 42 (1996), especially 4, 15, 19, 29, 32, 35, 37, 44, 54, 57, 65, 67–8, 71– 2, 112 (with revised readings at 31, 43, 58a (discussed at length in PCPS), 62, 66, 87 and 95) and for his supplements e.g. 10, 37–41 (a very convincing sequence), 46, 48, and especially 54 and 89. In 21 von Arnim conjectured τίνες δὲ 〈καὶ π〉ῶς δρῶντες, but τίνες δὲ καὶ 〈τί〉 δρῶντες (Blaydes) would be more idiomatic; D. in fact offers neither. Archelaus F 228.2: D. is right to Page 7 of 11

Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998) cite only West's ἕν γαίας from the multitude of conjectures for †ἐκ γαίας† and probably right to follow Tiberius in deleting lines 3–5. Autolycus ‘A’ F 282.12: D. illustrates the ‘metaphor for simile’ τρίβωνες in CQ 47 (1997); he has no new conjecture for the irritating corruption in 23. Bellerophon F 285.12: D. is almost certainly right with (ὅστις)… σπανίζηι for σπανίζει, but not, I think, with εὐτυχῶν for εὐτυχεῖ; in F 292.5 he obelises ἀλλὰ τῶι νόμωι: for the reason, see my note on 4 ff in SFP I. Erectheus F 360.6: for defence and interpretation of the transmitted text see D. in CQ 47 (1997); 38 〈δὲ〉 adds to the monosyllables conjectured, but D. puts none of them in his text. F 362.20 †πονηροὺς†: D. cites only Matthiae's λαλοῦντας for a corruption as frustrating as Autolycus F 282.23 (above). In F 370, the Sorbonne papyrus, so productive of suggestions for the whole play's structure and contemporary import, D. is surely right not to print Χάρων in 2, but keeps it in the apparatus, perhaps inevitably; it is scarcely credible in the context, like the mention of Ares read by some in 14. The end of 14 has so far defeated conjecture (D. cites none); the likely question before the answer in 15, ‘(Eumolpus) has fallen’, is ‘But who (on the other hand: for ἀλλὰ γάρ in questions see Denniston, GP 108) has died?’ or ‘But who still lives?’; yet e.g. means defying the apparently clear letters ιθ before the loss. In 8 a possible revised reading of the papyrus is canvassed. (p.103) At 21–2 D. is more cautious than Cropp in SFP I in restoring F 361 Nauck to the mutilated papyrus (Kamerbeek). He has new conjectures in 17, 35 and 41, all argued in CQ 47 (1997); here, he has a promising new idea for 37, ‘dummodo προσεῖδον (38) non recte legatur’, suggestions for 38 and 43 and attractive supplements in 62, 81, 82. In 49 he prints his (PapFlor 7 (1980) 59; not in Euripidea) but in 51 keeps his equally possible σεισμ]ῶν to the apparatus. Perhaps the biggest problem in the whole papyrus is the proposed disentangling from in 42 of some form of ἀπάτη (Austin first, whom some have followed); the whole character of the play must be reinterpreted if either Erectheus or Praxithea has ‘deceived’ either one or all three of their daughters into sacrificial death; D. wisely keeps the suggestion to the apparatus. Cresphontes: PMich inv. 6973 is still officially without its editio princeps, and D. has been dependent largely upon the text published by Cropp in SFP I. In this text (F 448a), and its overlapping POxy 2458, it is particularly important to note D.'s different line-numbering for this volume. Even such an expert as D. has been unable to reconcile the colometry of POxy with the doubtfully colometric line-divisions of PMich, but he makes small suggestions in 47 and 49. In 16 D. judges Mette's too short for the space, unless was written; but if not σμικρòς, what? An adjective or noun is required with the participle ὤν; only σκότιος seems possible, but is also perhaps too ‘short’; on the other hand, if Cresphontes was presented here by Euripides as Merope's love-child, it would help to explain how his concealment aided his escape from murder. At the end of this same line, supplementation is made difficult by the elision in (D. notes similar elisions marked after scriptio plena in 13 and 21: thus ἔτ[ι] here (‘held’ at the breast) rather than e.g. seems inescapable); so perhaps ἔτ᾽ (metrical ‘position’? Cf. Ion 1376 ἐνἀγκάλαις μητρòς τρυφῆσαι, where also there is no particular point to ‘luxuriating’); the seeming need for a finite verb rules out an adverb like [ἀσ]φ[αλῶς. F 453.9 D.'s 〈ἴθ᾽〉 ἴθι is supported by reference to Euripidea p. 388 n. 86, from a typically exhaustive analysis of Euripides' practice with elision in doubled verbs; it persuades me against Cropp's defence in SFP I of Bergk's remedy. Cretes: F 472b.3 τ[αυρωπὸν φορεῖ: the first supplement is very possible, the second certain. In 10 I would now accept Luppe's supplement as palmary (and D. prints it in preference to his own earlier convincing one in CQ 47 (1997)); certainly a Present verb is needed. F472e: D. might have recorded that PBerol is now lost, for dependence upon a facsimile both facilitates and endangers conjecture (see my Endnote); in 44 his doubt of after ἐστόμωται, identifying rather , is important for future restorers; he does (p.104) himself not enter the minefield of 45, for example; see also on 51 below. In 22 I have been wondering whether the future Page 8 of 11

may be possible after the aorist

Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998) of 21 and before that of 23; if so, then something like μέρος πόν]ων or even βλαβὴν δόμ]ων (too long? but cf. 41 τῆς σῆς ἕκατιζημ[ία]ς)? In 23 D.'s ὅνπερ is a marked improvement. In 27 D. refers to KG 1.656–7 for the important emphasis in the express second-person pronoun doubted by Wilamowitz. He makes a small orthographic correction in 48, and in 51 generously reports my slightly free conjecture of . In Melanippe Sophe F 481.12 I am inclined to agree with Cropp in SFP I that ὄνομά τε τοὐμòν, sc. ἀνοιστέον from 11, is defensible, but D. obelises and does not mention Wilamowitz' ἐπ᾽ ὄνομα τοὐμòν. Melanippe Desmotis F 494: D. has no conjecture for the baffling οἵτ᾽ ἄγαν ἡγούμενοι in 24 but is almost certainly right with 25 ἢν μί᾽ εὑρεθῆι for εἰ μί᾽ ηὑρέθη. F 495.17, 19, 23, 24 good supplements ex. gr.; in 30 his ἄλλον for καλὸν is palmary and in 31 his more exact reading of the papyrus leads him to the convincing supplement . Stheneboea: for the hypothesis see D. in ZPE 77 (1989) = Euripidea 334 (see my Endnote); in line 13 he prefers Wilamowitz' παρ᾽ αυτής to Rabe's παρά του, with a note on the latter ‘obstat hiatus’, but the former does not solve the problem when and how Stheneboea might have warned, or wanted to warn, Bellerophon. F 661.22–5 are deleted, 22–3 being long suspect and 24–5 doubted by Holford-Strevens; certainly the bigger deletion solves many problems. D. leaves 11 λέχος and the whole of 26 obelised, without citing or making conjectures. Telephus F 696.14: possibly ̒Έλλην δὲ βαρβάροισιν ἦρχε γειτονῶν for and then e.g. πολλῶισὺν ὄλβωι πρίν γ᾽ Ἀχαιικὸς μολών in the largely corrupt 15? D. records convincing readings by Maehler at the end of 16. Hypsipyle: most of D.'s new readings in POxy 852 and his conjectures are set out in Eikasmos 6 (1995), but note CQ 47 (1997) on his convincing 14 . I draw attention to the inventive δέρκου μὰν for †δεῦρο ταν† in 46, to the various supplements proposed in 172–5, of which only κακῶν at the end of 172 is convincing, to the revised colometry in 244–5 and to the conjectures by Willink printed in 37 and 40 and canvassed in 284 and 288. Phaethon: D. has issued extremely detailed Epilegomena to his 1970 edition in AC 65 (1996); in this volume the more important new things from there are: 47 a further conjecture, [ὅσων ἐρᾶις]; 67 Burges' δ᾽ ἐν for δὲ; 79 change of mind in favour of the palimpsest's είρεσίας, 82 of Wilamowitz' άχοΰσιν, 170 of Faber's κάτω διήσει (defended by West at BICS 30 (1983) 77), 240 of Hermann's βασιλέως and 270–1 of Kannicht's question mark after καταστάσω (although D. retains the palimpsest's ἄφαντος against Heiland's ἄφαντον); at 238 D. prints a good conjecture by Willink and reports a less (p.105) attractive one in 282 (D. himself suggests various reorderings of the words in 282–3). Phrixus ‘A’ F 822b. 1 and 16: attractive supplements suggested. In incert.fab. F 912.5 D.'s προχυταȋον is surely right. Minores, Adespota: Critias, Pirithous: very suggestive supplements ex. gr. in F 4a, 10, 11, 14, 15, 16, 18, 21, 22, 25 and F 5.17, 18, 19, all line-ends; at F 7.11–12 an excellent new idea, ἀλλ᾽ οὗ σὺ χρήιζεις π[ροξένων] (or π[ροστατῶν]) ἐμὴν ἔχεις | εὔνοιαν. In the long Sisyphus bookfragment, F 19, D. has argued in Prometheus 22 (1996) his conjectures 13 δέη for δέος (not, I think, necessary); 25 κύδιστον ironice for ήδιστον, well possible; and 38–9 τῶν λόγων… | … οὕνεκ᾽ for τῶι λόγωι… | … οὐκ, very likely right. In the Gyges fragment, F 664, D. makes an attractive suggestion that 7 σι[‥] might be read not as σῖ [γα] but as σι[γῆ], presumably σι[γῆ]ς (D. told me subsequently that the second iota in

would not suit the traces).

The accuracy of the volume is remarkable; of the following few misprints, some were supplied by D. himself in a letter: A. Dictyulci F 47a.58 (p. 9) εύφραίνωμεν is printed for papyrus ὁρμαίνωμεν, a mistake which D. says he is unable to explain; A. Theori F 78a.32 (p. 12 apparatus) -σωζ- not σωζ-; A. F **168.21 (p. 23) an (apparent) extrusion of text into the margin; S. Ichneutae F 314.115 (p. 50 apparatus)

should have sublinear dots under every letter;

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Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998) ibid. 332 (p. 60 apparatus) ὅπερ Π2 and not ὅπερ Π; E. Hypsipyle POxy 2455 col. iii. 14 (p. 137) not .

Notes Endnote 2006 After the original electronic publication, in which some readers' software turned the Greek into chewed English transliteration, I circulated a few hard copies in which I made a small number of corrections, some with the (p.106) generous help of James Diggle himself. I have now removed a very few further errors. I have brought some references into line with Vol. 5 (Euripides) of TrGF. [p. 94] for Sophocles add: A.H. Sommerstein (ed.), Shards from Kolonos: Studies in Sophoclean Fragments (Bari, 2003). [p. 94] for Euripides add: C.W. Müller, Euripides, Philoktet (Berlin etc., 2000), together with his Philoktet. Beiträge usw. (Stuttgart/Leipzig, 1997), both of which I reviewed in Gnomon 78 (2006) 106–13. Italian scholars have recently been most energetic, with Bellerophon (M. Curnis, Torino, 2003), Cretans (A.-T. Cozzoli, Pisa & Roma, 2001) and Palamedes (R. Falcetto, Alessandria, 2002); also Danae, Dictys (J. Karamanou, Stuttgart, 2006). [p. 94] for the Minores: add G. Xanthakis-Karamanos, Dramatica: Studies in Classical and PostClassical Dramatic Poetry (Athens, 2002: reprint of many papers published since her Studies of 1980). For all fragments of tragedy, see the historical survey of scholarship by D. Harvey, ‘Tragic thrausmatology’ in F. McHardy, J. Robson, D. Harvey (eds), Lost Dramas of Classical Athens (Exeter, 2005) 21–48, and M.J. Cropp, ‘Lost tragedies: a survey’ in J. Gregory (ed.), A Companion to Greek Tragedy (Oxford, 2005) 271–92. [p. 103] on Cret. F 472e: PBerol has in fact been rediscovered, in Warsaw: see A.-T. Cozzoli, Euripide. Cretesi (Pisa & Roma, 2001) 41–3, who publishes photographs supplied to her from the surviving and original negatives (which are unfortunately not clear enough for confident reading), and states that public access to the parchment is not yet permitted (or, was not permitted then). [p. 104] on Stheneboea: fragments of a papyrus hypothesis remain unpublished in Michigan: M. van Rossum-Steenbeck, Greek Readers' Digests: Studies on a Selection of Sub-literary Papyri (Leiden & New York, 1998) 22. Notes: (1) . D. p. 172 accepts Wilamowitz' ascription to Critias rather than to Euripides. While I squeezed the methodological argument for Euripides perhaps too hard in ‘The Pirithous Fragments’ (in J.A. López-Férez (ed.), De Homero a Libanio (Madrid, 1995) 183–93, reprinted in this volume as no. 4), I still have very strong doubts about both Critias and particularly the supposed tetralogy. (2) . Antiope is proposed by W. Luppe, most recently at ZPE 102 (1994) 42 n. 10, supported implicitly by D. at APf 42 (1996) 164 and O. Taplin, AK 41 (1998) 37. This attribution is followed in SDP II and the forthcoming ‘Loeb’ edition of Euripides' Fragments.

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Review of James Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998)

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Three Scribes in Laurentianus 32.2?

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Three Scribes in Laurentianus 32.2? Studi Italiani Di Filologia Classica 35 (1963) 107–11 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0007

Abstract and Keywords A note on a still unresolved conundrum, the identification of scribes in this famous manuscript of Euripides: whether a third hand, and not the principal one writing later in a slightly different manner, took over from the second (clearly distinct from both) in mid-codex – and finished abruptly after crowding text at the very foot of a leaf and even more at the top of a new one, only to stop in mid-line (192 of Electra). Possible explanations are considered, and an earlier suggestion of a third scribe renewed. Keywords:   Euripides, manuscript composition, scribal identification

This note discusses an old problem in the composition of Laurentianus 32.2 (L), whether folios 157r–193r (top) were written by a third original scribe of the ms., or by its main scribe, who wrote 2r–118v (117v–118v are blank pages at the end of a quire) and 193r (top: from Eur. Electra 193 onwards) to 252v. The middle section of the ms. was written by a second scribe, whom A. Turyn has now identified as Nicolaus Triclines, collaborator with Demetrius Triclinius in a number of important manuscripts and possibly his younger brother.1 The section runs from 119r (the beginning of a quire) to 156v (the end of a quire; 154v–156v are blank). 157r begins a new quire and apparently a new section in the copying arrangements, comprising four ‘scholia’ plays of Euripides, Hippolytus, Medea, Alcestis and Andromache; it is written in a hand which on general grounds of style and differences of ink J.A. Spranger2 assigned to a third original scribe, L3. Spranger thought that this third scribe wrote as far as the top of 193r, where the copying was again undertaken by the first and main scribe, L1. Most scholars, with the recent exception of P.G. Mason, have considered 157r–193r(top) to be still in the hand of L1.3 [[108]]

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Three Scribes in Laurentianus 32.2? Spranger rightly remarked that 1581 (the third page-side of the section written by his ‘L3’) was nevertheless in the unmistakable handwriting of L1, and on the basis of various additions and corrections ‘amongst the slovenly scrawls of L3’ in the certain handwriting of L1 assumed that ‘L1 controlled and corrected the work of L3 (who may have been his pupil), occasionally showing him by actual example how he could endeavour to write neatly and correctly’.4 Examination of 157, 158 and 193r gives the immediate impression that two different hands are involved. 158r is without question in the hand of L1; (p.110) the immediately adjacent leaves (157rand v, 158v, 159) are in a different ink, as Spranger observed (L1 appears to use brownish ink, ‘L3’ on 157 ff. a black-brown ink). The supposed L3 is in contrast to L1 a large, coarse, untidy and rambling script, written with a bad pen which caused the ink to ‘ball’ in many places. I am unable to see from long and careful study of the general character of the two ‘different’ hands that they are in fact different in style: the letter shapes are indistinguishable. Spranger attempted to explain the presence or the script or L1 in the section of his supposed L3 by imagining general control of his work by the master scribe. The situation at the top of 193r raises problems both when L1 is assumed to have written all from 157 to the end of the codex,5 and when a third scribe is established for 157–193r (top). [[109]] At the foot of 192v, the script of the supposed third scribe degenerates into a hideous tangle, where Electra 167–184 are compressed into 10 lines; at the top of 193r, the same scribe has crushed 185–92 into the space of two and a half normal lines (filling the top lines of both left and right hand columns so that they continue right across the page, and half the second line of the left hand column, according to the normal cross-paginal sequence of verses in L); then L1 has continued with 193, in the second line of the right-hand column. Folio 193 is not the beginning of a fresh quire,6 nor does it mark the beginning of a fresh play. It is possible, though most unlikely, that the resumption of L1 at this point coincides with the beginning of a fresh section into which L's exemplar was divided for the separate copyists: other sections begin clearly with fresh quires and plays, as, in the Euripidean part of L, the beginning of the Supplices (scribe L1, on 68r), of the Rhesus (L2 = Nicolaus Triclines, on 119r), of the Hippolytus (‘L3’, on 157r). If L3 is a separate scribe, it is reasonable that L1 should have resumed copying after Electra 192, if for some reason L3 had to stop in the middle of quire or play; it is just possible that L's exemplar was divided for convenient allocation to the scribes into its own component quires, and that one such division was between Electra 192 and 193 – but it is then inexplicable that L1 should begin his fresh section in the middle of a quire, and with an odd line in the second column, for that is what the different scripts and the compression of Electra 185–92 into a prepared space at the top of 192r presuppose. The contradiction is plain: the existence of Electra 185–92 in their compressed state suggests they had to be so compressed in order to fit them into a space purposely left by L1;7 the circumstances and continuation from Electra 193 by L1 in the middle of play, quire and line suggest he must have written with 185–92 already on [[110]] the page. This second (p.111) possibility alone is within reason, and no other conclusion suits the general circumstances of L's composition it is fair to deduce from its present condition. Further, the scribe of 15r7–193r (top) is considerably more careless than either L1 or L2, which additionally suits the contention of Spranger of his separate identity as a ‘pupil’ of L1.

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Three Scribes in Laurentianus 32.2? Even with the assumption that 157r–193r(top) are the work of a third scribe and that this scribe wrote under the illustrated control of L1,8 the paradoxical compression of eight lines into the space of three at the top of 193r remains. Perhaps L1 was consistently and incorrigibly careless (cf. the omissions of 178v and 183v), and told L3 to finish at the bottom of 192v (exactly halfway through a quire), or at the end of a quire or page in the exemplar (i.e. after Electra 192); then the simpleton tried to equate the end of his page with one in his copy. It is of further interest that Electra in L stands separated from the remaining ‘alphabetical’ plays amid a sequence of ‘scholia’ plays (Hippolytus, Medea, Andromache – Electra – Hecuba, Orestes, Phoenissae). The first four of these ‘scholia’ plays form almost the whole of the section copied by the supposed scribe (157r–191v); Electra begins a new leaf at 192r, but the third scribe stops suddenly in the difficult circumstances described above after only two whole sides and a fragment of a third. Conceivably this third and inexperienced scribe was set to copy four ‘scholia’ plays, because the text of those was obtainable elsewhere:9 the two careful scribes, L1 and L2, undertook the transcription of the rare ‘alphabetical’ plays; then, perhaps, Electra was available for copying either separately from the other ‘alphabetical’ plays or was attached to the Byzantine triad (Hecuba, Orestes, Phoenissae) in the portions into [[111]] which L's exemplar was dismembered;10 the third scribe may have improperly begun to copy before L1 noticed and was able to resume its transcription (as a rare play) in his more careful manner.

Notes (p.112) (p.113)

Endnote 2006 The problem is left as a ‘puzzle’ by G. Zuntz, An Inquiry into the Transmission of the Plays of Euripides (Cambridge, 1965) 103–4, the only subsequent discussion of any length (in a sense, it was simultaneous with mine, for Zuntz had finished his manuscript before my note was published). His Plates X–XV are of Electra in ms. L. fos. 192r, 192v, 193r, for on pp. 174–80 he analysed the original and subsequently altered arrangement of the quires in L; cf. my pp. 111– 12, particularly in Electra. N.G. Wilson, reviewing Zuntz in Gnomon 38 (1966) 334–42, at 336 writes: ‘Zuntz's judgement is very sound: a good example is his discussion of the identity of what might at first sight be taken as the hand of another scribe, but in all probability is not.’ K. Matthiessen, Studien zur Textüberlieferung der Hekabe des Euripides (Heidelberg, 1974) 39 thinks that three scribes are more likely than two. H. van Looy, Euripides. Medea (Teubner ed., 1992) x, writes of two or perhaps three scribes. As to the issue touched on in n. 1 of my article, the relationship between L and Ρ in the ‘alphabetical’ plays, Zuntz' 1965 demonstration has convinced most subsequent students and editors, e.g. R. Kannicht, Euripides. Helena (Göttingen, (1969) I.103; Matthiessen (1974, above) 16 and Die Tragödien des Euripides (München, 2002) 20; C. Collard, Euripides. Supplices (Groningen, 1975) 1.32; J. Diggle, Euripides II (OCT, 1981) v, cf. his Euripidea (Oxford, 1994) 298–304, on L and P in Heraclidae, 407–8 in Iphigenia in Aulis, 438–9 in Bacchae (with discussion of Triclinius' inks in this play), 508–13 in Rhesus; H.-C. Günther, Euripides. Iphigenia in Aulis (Teubner ed., 1988) viii–ix; W. Stockert, Euripides. Iphigenie in Aulis (Vienna, 1992) 65; G. Basta Donzelli, Euripides. Electra (Teubner ed., 1995) v–vi. Unconvinced are A. Tuilier, Recherches critiques sur la tradition du texte d'Euripide (Paris, 1968) 182–202; A. Garzya, Euripides. Heraclidae (Teubner ed., 1972) x–xi; W. Biehl, Euripides. Kyklops (Heidelberg, 1986) 29–36; H. Van Looy, Euripides. Medea (Teubner ed., 1992), p. x. Further, O.L. Smith, ‘On the Page 3 of 5

Three Scribes in Laurentianus 32.2? scribal hands in the Ms P of Euripides’, Mnem. 35 (1982) 326–31, at 330, raises questions about the apparent problem of (p.114) ‘Triclinian metrical scholia in P going beyond even Triclinius at the latest stage in L’. The fullest recent study of the L:P relationship is by M. Magnani, La tradizione manoscritta degli ‘Eraclidi’ di Euripides, Eikasmos Studi 3 (2000). Magnani contends that in this play at least, P is a copy of a gemellus of L, and that both were made from a master-copy written in Triclinius' environment; these arguments are powerfully contested by K. Matthiessen, Gnomon 76 (2003) 388–91. For this same one play Garzya and Magnani are nevertheless followed by M.F. Fileni, ‘Demetrio Triclinio revisore del Cod. Laur. Plut. 32.2 (L): I cantica degli Eraclidi di Euripide’, QUCC 79 (2005) 65–97. Notes: (1) . A. Turyn, The Byzantine Manuscript Tradition of the Tragedies of Euripides (Urbana, 1957) 229–33. Turyn's identification of the notorious manus correctrix of L as Demetrius Triclinius has cleared the way for the final establishment of the relationship between this ms. and Palatinus Graecus 287 (P): see G. Zuntz, Gnomon 35 (1963) 4; A. Lesky, Anzeiger für die Altertumswissenschaft XIV (1961) 21. (2) . ‘Some notes on Laur. 32.2’, SIFC NS 10 (1932) 324. (3) . P.G. Mason, ‘A note on Laurentianus 32.2’, CQ 4 (1954) 58. Turyn (229) expressly denies a third scribe here; cf. U. von Wilamowitz-M., Analecta Euripidea (Berlin, 1875) 4: but L ‘varia manus scriptus’, A.M. Bandini, Catalogus codicum graecorum Bibliothecae Laurentianae (Florence 1768) II, col. 124 = A. Kirchhoff, Euripides (Berlin, 1855) I.xi; ‘compluribus manibus scriptus’, G. Murray, Euripides I (Oxford, 1902) Codicum Catalogus. Wilamowitz, Analecta, pp. 5 and 50, held that the misplaced quire containing the portion of the Bacchae (vv. 1–755) surviving in L, i.e. folios 76r–83v (81v–83v are blank), was written by a third scribe. My own examination of L and checking of the arguments of Spranger (Studi 322) satisfy me that the hand is still that of the first scribe, L1: likewise Turyn (235); G. Zuntz, The Political Plays of Euripides (Manchester, 1955) 129 n. 3; E.R. Dodds, Bacchae (Oxford, 1944) xlix n. 2. (4) . Spranger (324) exemplifies the addition at the bottom of 178v of Alcestis 321–2 and at the bottom of 183v of the last lines of that play. I feel some doubt about the former, for though ink and pen are different, the similarity of script is remarkable; in the latter case, the addition is unmistakably by L1. (5) . For example: if L1 wrote all of 157r–193r (top), why did he make his own corrections to his work in a style so curiously different from the rest of it in that section? The presence of 158r in a completely different style by the same man is inexplicable: it cannot be a replacement, for 158v is in the careless style. (6) . It is, however, the beginning of the second half of the quire (189–192/193–196). (7) . It is inconceivable that such a calculation could have been made, even with the error of five lines (185–92: eight lines in the space of three), particularly in view of the principles on which the exemplar of L was elsewhere divided, and the position of folio 193 in the middle of a quire. The number of column-lines varies through L from page to page: sometimes there are three or even four columns to a page in lyrics.

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Three Scribes in Laurentianus 32.2? (8) . This is the only plausible explanation yet advanced of the consistent appearance of the regular handwriting of L1 in this section of the ms.: it is at best unreal to think that this section was written by L1 in his own script, as Turyn (229) describes it, ‘somewhat carelessly … must have written … with a different pen and in a different vein’. (9) . On 232r, after the Phoenissae, the last Euripidean play in L, Demetrius Triclinius wrote εἰσìν ενταȗϑα εὐριπíδου ιή; on a subsequent handling of the ms., he added λεìπει καì τὸ τρωάδων (a ‘scholia’ play). (10) . In P, L's close relative, Electra still appears in a block with the ‘triad’, but after the other ‘alphabetical’ plays Heraclidae, Hercules and Helena, in a rough sequence corresponding with the postulated ‘alphabetical’ edition.

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 19 (1972) 39–53 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0008

Abstract and Keywords This play contains among several distinct dramatic features a ‘funeral oration’ delivered in praise of the ‘Seven Against Thebes’, all killed in that morally questionable assault and some of them very flawed heroes (see also 9) below). The paper discusses the major textual difficulties of the speech, which bear strongly on its interpretation as a whole; then its general character in a mythical setting, in relation to several literary records and examples of the great Athenian funeral orations delivered annually in praise of the war-dead, homilies to encourage civic virtues and pride. A final section establishes the oration as in formal harmony with play's plot and setting, and with its underlying ideals; it defends the oration against some critics’ scorn as a satire on the conventions of the Athenian annual speech. Keywords:   Euripides, Suppliants, funeral orations, historical reality, dramatic accommodation

Preliminary note 2006 In this article I have thought it pragmatic to insert occasional corrections, qualifications and updatings in parenthesis in both main text and notes; and in the Endnote 20061 collect reactions to the article. Several features of Supplices give it a problematic singularity among Euripides' plays that has long attracted imaginative and sometimes bizarre speculation about his intentions. Part of the play's major agon reviews in anachronistic detail the differences between democracy and tyranny (399–455); Evadne commits a stage suicide unique in extant tragedy by leaping into her husband Capaneus' funeral-pyre (980–1071: cf. n. 39); in the fourth episode (838–954) Adrastus delivers a funeral oration over the five of the ‘Seven against Thebes’ whose bodies have been recovered by Theseus in response to supplication by the mothers of the dead. The Oration (857– 917) has been readily interpreted by some critics as an isolated satire upon the threadbare platitudes of the Athenian public epitaphios; others have built upon it for a view of the whole

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices play as one consistent only in its ironical ambivalence. So, for example, Theseus' selfless and glorious war to recover the dead is for some interpreters no less an act of folly than the original crazy enterprise of Argos against Thebes, because Theseus encourages Adrastus to praise its fallen heroes as models of εὐανδρία for his own Athenian citizens (841–3). Or, the defeated Adrastus' advice in his Oration how to acquire this virtue demonstrates only man's helpless repetition of (p.116) behaviour which has brought death to the men he praises and suffering to their mourners. Satirical interpretation of the whole play has been taken furthest by the late J.W. Fitton in a discussion of uncompromising single-mindedness which finds much of its material in the Funeral Oration. Sympathetic with Fitton's approach is W.D. Smith, another energetic student of the play in recent years.1 The view taken of Oration and play by these scholars is a world away from that offered by G. Zuntz in the important book which rehabilitated Supplices from decades of critical scorn.2 Reconciling the evident contemporaneity of the play's ideas with the universal implication of its tragedy, Zuntz finds fresh sympathy for the brief appraisal included by Aristophanes of Byzantium in his now fragmentary hypothesis, τὸ δὲ δρᾶμα ἐγκώμιον Ἀθηνῶν. I suggest in this paper that Zuntz' more natural view is likely to be right, in particular his association of Adrastus' Oration with the play's general mood and purpose.3 Two different kinds of argument will be conducted in its support. The first stems from close re-examination and analysis of the text of the Oration. The second considers its place and function in the whole play and especially its second half, the aftermath of Theseus' victory.4 [[40]] I. The Oration itself A. Preliminary: textual problems

The episode 838–954 is disfigured m a number of places by textual corruption whose diagnosis and cure bear vitally on the general interpretation. The mechanical damage is typical of a play which has as many loci desperati as any by Euripides; the interpolations were inevitable in a sententious passage much quarried by anthologists and other writers.5 [2006: In the original article I gave reason for discussing in the following paragraphs those passages where Murray's OCT was in my opinion incorrectly constituted: it had served for many years as the effective vulgate of Supplices, and materially influenced criticism of the Oration, not least among those English and American scholars who stressed its satire. Murray's OCT has since been replaced by James Diggle's, but after some thought I retain the discussions; for convenience I attach to the end of each a note of differences between my own text (Supplices, Groningen, 1975; revised in Bibl. Teubneriana, Leipzig, 1984) and Diggle's. It seems right to note that some of my textual judgements were questioned by H. Erbse, Studien zum Prolog der euripideischen Tragödie (Berlin, 1984) 152–5.] 838–40: Theseus' introductory rhesis (838–56) begins with a notorious crux as hotly debated by students of theatrical practice as by editors but of importance to the present discussion. In the text afforded by ms. L, Theseus (p.117) enters at 838 apparently in conversation with an unnamed person (838 σε) whom he has considered inviting to deliver the Oration but now abandons in favour of Adrastus (840 νῦν δ᾽ Ἄδραστον εἰσορῶ, retained by Murray): Adrastus has re-entered with the cortège at 794 and partnered the Chorus in the kommos 798–837. Whatever the cure for the real difficulties of the tradition 838–40, it is certain that within the play's imagined world Theseus could have invited only Adrastus to deliver the Oration. Dramatic realism requires that a character already established in the play and familiar with the dead, not a new entrant, should make this important speech. Adrastus knew the dead personally and is prominent in their own city; he has the proper skill and knowledge (842 σοφώτερος);6 above all, Page 2 of 19

The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices he has refound in defeat the moral stature to undertake the task.7 Furthermore, Euripides is in debt for the whole scene to Pindar, who set Adrastus' panegyric for the dead at Thebes itself (Ol. 6.12ff.). In charging Adrastus with the Oration, Theseus directs him not to praise the valour of the dead but to reveal for imitation by the young Athenians present (843)8 the means of its acquisition: 841–2 πόθεν ποθ᾽ οἵ δε διαπρεπεῖ ς εὐψυχίᾳ | θνητῶν ἔφυσαν; Euripides has Theseus presuppose what Adrastus states in his peroration, 913f. ἡ δ᾽ εὐανδρία | διδακτό ς. This is the Oration's major premise, so that Theseus' demand in 841–2 refers not to the ancestry of the dead, but to their upbringing in boyhood and adolescence, to their τροφή, παιδεία and ἄσκησις, above all to their ἤθη. These concepts therefore become thematic in the Oration: so παῖ ς 882, 889 (see below), 917; νεανίας 873; (ἐκ)τρέφειν 891, 911; παιδεύειν 891, 917; διδακτός, διδάσκειν 914, μάθησις, μανθάνειν 915–16; ἀσκεῖν 872, 912, cf. 884 σκληρὰ τῇ φύσει διδού ς and 903 ἀγυμνάστων (γυμνάζειν: see below on this verse); φρόνημα 862, ἦθος 869 (both in the interpolated 907); τρόποι 876. Diagnosis and cure of the remaining textual difficulties become easier once the exclusive nature of Adrastus' theme and its persistent repetition in word or phrase are recognised. [2006: in my two editions I obelised all three lines 838–40; Diggle's OCT obelised only the words 839–40 ἡνίκ᾽ … ἀφήσω. In 840 Diggle adopts Jacobs's conjecture Ἄδραστ᾽ ἀνιστορῶ, accommodating the pronoun σε in 838. My diagnosis of the ‘theatrical’ problem in these lines is shared byD. Mastronarde, Contact and Discontinuity (Berkeley, 1979) 116–17.] The first of these problems is one I have discussed at greater length elsewhere: 860 must read ὁρᾷ ς τὸ λάβρον οὗ βέλος διέπτατο ‘you see the one pierced through by Zeus' hurtling bolt?’ Tyrwhitt's deft correction of two trivial errors (Λ–Ν,ΤΟΝΑΒΡΟΝ–τὸνἁβρόν, the reading of L retained by Murray) is certain.9 With the disappearance of τόν άβρόν from the text a major weapon is struck from the hands of satirical interpreters: now there is (p.118) no question of a weak and dandy Capaneus pointedly conflicting with the traditionally hybristic warrior evoked earlier in the play (496ff.). There is also no question of τὸν ἁβρόν conflicting with the immediately following portrait, where Capaneus is moderate in bodily appetites and behaviour, scorning excess (862–6), and steadfast in his friendships and undertakings (867–71). [[41]] In 888–9 L has ὁ τῆ ς κυναγοῦ δ᾽ ἄλλος Ἀταλάντης γόνος | παῖ ςΠαρθενοπαῖος, εἶδος ἐξοχώτατος. W. Dindorf has misled many subsequent editors, including Murray, into deletion of παῖ ς. The literary source and contextual purpose of this apparently otiose detail should be clear: Euripides follows closely the conventional ‘etymological’ portrait of Parthenopaeus at A. Sept. 526ff, especially 532f. μητρὸ ς ἐξ ὀρεσκόου | βλάστημα καλλίπρῳρον, ἀνδρόπαις ἀνήρ Adrastus insists that the valour of the dead is attributable to the training that began in each man's boyhood. The assonance in παῖ ς Παρθενοπαῖος stresses this second and thematic detail while it plays ornamentally on the meaning of the name (for the device see n. 31). There is of course no tautology between γόνος and παῖ ς, for the words belong to different sense-units kept apart by verse-end; Ἀταλάντης γόνος is an identification formula in mentions of this hero.10 The clinching argument for the retention of παῖ ς is simply its presence in the tradition: as a gloss, even metri gratia, it has no reason.11 The suspect grammar of the pronoun in 899–900 πολλὸυς δ᾽ ἐραστὰ ς κἀπὸ θηλειῶν ὅσας | ἔχων ἐφρούρει μηδὲν ἐξαμαρτάνειν has caused anguish for over centuries. Canter conjectured ἴσας as early as 1571; τόσας has been canvassed independently by Norwood and Diggle.12 The difficulty of ὅσας is real, and L. Dindorf proposed a cure for it I believe to be right for a quite different reason: deletion of 899–900.13 If the couplet goes, a detail of frivolous irrelevance is removed from the sketch of Parthenopaeus. None of the other portraits contains such

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices inconsequential stuff, although many critics summarise them as if they all depended entirely on idiosyncrasies of this kind.14 What is more important, however, and to my mind conclusive, is that if 899–900 are removed each of the four portraits will be seen to end with a comment explicitly relevant to Adrastus' major theme: the valour of these heroes was founded in their civic pride and duty. So Capaneus 870–1 ἄκραντον οὐδὲν οὔτ᾽ ἐ ς οἰκέτας ἔχων | οὔτ᾽ ἐ ς πολίτας, Eteoclus 878–80 τοὺ ς δ᾽ ἐξαμαρτάνοντας, οὐχὶ τὴν πόλιν | ἤχθαιρ᾽· ἐπεί τοι κοὐδὲν αἰτία πόλις | κακῶ ς κλύουσα διὰ κυβερνήτην κακόν, Hippomedon 887 πόλει παρασχεῖνσῶμα χρήσιμον θέλων, Parthenopaeus 897–8 ἤμυνε χώρᾳ, χὠπότ᾽ εὖ πράσσοι πόλις, | ἔχαιρε, λυπρῶ ς δ᾽ ἔφερεν, εἴ τι δυστυχοῖ. The repetition of this (p.119) terminal motif evidently secures a formal unity for the Oration, strengthening its thematic concentration. The interpolation of 899–900 is readily explicable. It was induced by, and may well have been contemporary with, the destructive interpolation of the following and final portrait, of Tydeus: here the terminal detail of civic duty is missing from the ms. text and has probably been ousted by the interpolated verses. [2006: Diggle keeps both lines 899–900, obelising ὅσας as I did in 1984 but not in 1975.] The picture of Tydeus transmitted in 901–8 shows a triple variation on the commonplace antithesis ‘deeds not words’ heard first in 902 οὐκ ἐνλόγοις ἦν λαμπρό ς, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν ἀσπίδι.15 Fitton, Smith and e.g. Grégoire among editors have assumed this threefold and bathetic repetition to be part of a satirical effect: ‘here is a model hero so void of inimitable virtue his one crude talent has to be inflated’. These critics point also to the ‘deliberate linguistic poverty’ of 902–3 ἐν ἀσπίδι | δεινὸ ς σοφιστή ς, πολλά τ᾽ ἐξευρεῖνσοφά. The credibility of their view and defence of the transmitted text can be objectively disproved. The preliminary statement in 901 that praise of Tyndeus will be ‘great but brief’ relies up on a rhetor's cliché: at Erechtheus fr. 362.5 βραχεῖ δὲ μύθῳ πολλὰ συλλαβὼν ἐρῶ it heads a speech of about 30 verses. This headline is not per se an argument for taking scissors to 902–8, but it strengthens suspicion of trittography. Next there is the evidence of the testimonia: schol. II. 4.400 cites 902 with δεινό ς instead of λαμπρό ς and omits 903; Stobaeus and John of Damascus quote 901 followed at once by 907–8. [[42]] By themselves these variations are not significant, in view of the methods and chances of quotation, and it may not mean much that only Stobaeus makes an attribution to Supplices. In combination, however, the headline in 901, the triple repetition and the variance between the witnesses suggest a corruption which is confirmed by closer examination. In 903 Toup's dissatisfaction with δεινὸ ς σοφιστὴ ς πολλά τ᾽ ἐξευρεῖνσοφά and correction to σοφός16 serve only to accommodate the particle: Euripides was incapable of writing a verse so abjectly tautologous. Wilamowitz saw that its second half is an invasive gloss upon δεινὸ ςσοφιστή ς; he used a quotation by Numenius apud Eusebius, Praep. Ev. XIV.6.1 to restore its original form δεινὸ ς σοφιστὴ ς τῶν τ᾽ ἀγυμνάστωνσφαγεύ ς.17 The importance of this restoration – and proof of its correctness – lies in the reintroduction to Tydeus' portrait of the theme of ἄσκησις: Tydeus is ‘lethal to the unpractised’, and by implication so ‘practised’ himself in war that he is δεινὸ ς σοφιστή ς.18 Furthermore, 902–3 in the restored form are truly ἔπαινος ἐν βραχεῖ μέγας succinct and forceful, and (p.120) germane to Adrastus' theme. [2006: Diggle keeps L's πολλά τ᾽ ἐξευρεῖνσοφά, but deletes 902–6 as interpolated.] Not so 904–6, which use largely the same resources as 902–3. It is disconcerting to hear that in wit Tydeus compared unfavourably with his brother Meleager, and puzzling to know why Meleager is mentioned at all. In his other portraits Adrastus excludes such comparative details. Page 4 of 19

The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices The stylistic duplication between ἐν ἀσπίδι δεινὸ ς σοφιστής and εὑρὼν ἀκριβῆ μουσικὴν ἐν ἀσπίδι is besides intolerable: Euripides does not waste his metaphor in this way. Doubt attaches too to the active form in ἴσονπαρέσχεν ὄνομα ‘acquired an equal fame’, for ὄνομα παρέχειν is normally ‘provide the name but not the substance’, e.g. IA 128 ὄνομ᾽ οὐκ ἔργονπαρέχων. I would not disqualify Euripides from authorship of 904–6, but I cannot believe he wrote these verses to stand here, after 902–3.19 It seems to me likely that they were added, at first in the margin, by an alert reader or annotator who remembered them from another Tydean context. Their subsequent interpolation into the main text needs no comment. [2006: Diggle also deletes 904–6, but conjectures παρέσχετ᾽ in 905.] The same process perhaps explains the interpolation of 907–8, except that it must have occurred early enough for the verses to enter the anthological tradition from which Stobaeus derived them. In general form 907–8 recall 869–71 from ‘Capaneus’, ἀψευδὲ ς ἦθος, εὐπροσήγορον στόμα, | ἄκραντον οὐδὲν οὔτ᾽ ἐ ς οἰκέτας ἔχων | οὔτ᾽ ἐ ς πολίτας this kind of asyndeton is common in pen-portraits, however,20 so that 869–71 were not necessarily either lure or model for the interpolation. It must remain uncertain whether 907–8 intruded from a marginal note or were fabricated for the context, but they are unsound on one particular count, φιλότιμος,φιλοτιμία are words used by Euripides only in his late plays (Pho. and IA) and always pejoratively.21 [2006: In the original article and in my edition of 1975 I wrongly questioned the metaphorical use of πλούσιος with abstractions like ἦθος and φρόνημα (907); but in my edition of 1984 I apologized for missing M.L. West's notes on such usage, in ZPE 108 (1964) 164 and on Hes. Op. 455.1 also questioned the apparent sense of ἴσον his spirit equal to his ambition in deeds not words', for which Diggle, who keeps 907–8 as the authentic complete praise of Tydeus, compared El. 893 οὐ λόγοισιν ἀλλ᾽ ἔργοις κτανὼν | Αἴγισθον.] It seems to me clear that 904–6 and 907–8 are both expansive interpolations upon 902–3, [[43]] and that they have displaced the terminal comment of Tydeus' civic attitudes; in the portrait of Parthenopaeus the interpolated 899–900 follow this item. (p.121) [2006: there were no other places in the Oration, or in the remainder of the episode (918–54), where I dissented from Murray's OCT; but in 1984 I did not follow Diggle in reading 842 εἰπέ δ᾽ Elmsley, 870 ἄκρατον Lenting, 914 διδακτόν Stobaeus. D. Kovacs' ‘Loeb’ text (vol. 3, 1998) varies markedly from both mine and Diggle's; cf. his Euripidea Altera (Leiden, 1996) 92– 4.]22 B. General character of the Oration

Many critics have drawn comparisons between the Oration and surviving prose epitaphioi.23 The usual pattern of the public speech is (a) speaker's definition of his task and conventional apology for his inadequacy; (b) praise of the deeds and bravery of the dead, but with emphasis on their debt to the example of their forefathers and the institutions of their country; (c) exhortation of the survivors to aspire to their achievement and emulate the ideals for which they died; (d) terminal consolation of the bereaved. Adrastus' Oration omits (d) entirely24 and retains an echo of (a) in the proem 857–9; (c) is transformed into the concluding parainesis 909–17; more of (b) remains in the spirit than the substance, for the Oration lacks praise of the heroes' deeds and bravery, and a view of them against the traditions of their country. The omissions are deliberate, and have circumstantial dramatic plausibility. Theseus, who requests the Oration, and the Athenian soldiers to whom he will have it addressed, have seen the dead's bravery for themselves (844); therefore Theseus forbids Adrastus to include empty details of battle prowess (846–56).25 Also, the bare fact that the dead belonged to the defeated side must be minimised,

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices so that it does not threaten the heroes' exemplary stature; specifically Argive traditions or ideals are avoided so that the heroes' example may appear universally valid. What remains in the Oration of elements (b) and (c) has the same didactic purpose as in the public epitaphios, but in its more limited thematic and emotional range evinces a fundamental difference in emphasising ideals through individual rather than corporate and anonymous examples.26 Theseus points to the dead, whose bodies are visible to the orator and his audience, the Athenians of the play no less than the Athenians watching in the theatre; he asks ‘How and why did these men come to be so preeminently brave?’ (842–23: cf. §1.A above, at the beginning, and n. 8). The dead, moreover, are no unknown warriors. The recovery of their bodies has been the preoccupation of the play, the intensely personal concern of their own mothers who form the chorus and now stand by their biers in the orchestra. It would be ethically and dramatically incongruous for the Oration to have any other focus than these individual heroes, always (p. 122) distinct in the myth and now in the play so real. The Oration therefore becomes a series of separate character sketches which find their common theme in the heroes' conception of their civic duty, its realisation in their attitudes and behaviour, above all in their education and discipline to valour. The limited but true common ground beween the Oration and the Athenian public epitaphios lies in this formal concentration. Adrastus' concluding parainesisshows the identity too of the basic assumption: the men he praises embodied a virtue that was not unique, even if it was exceptional; it was the product of a process open to all, like the natural acquisition of any human skill: 913ff. ἡ δ᾽ εὐανδρία | διδακτό ς, εἴπερ καὶ βρέφος διδάσκεται | λέγειν ἀκούειν θ᾽ ὧν μάθησιν οὐκ ἔχει.27 Now it is argued that the Oration simulates the public epitaphios only in order to satirise the emptiness of its conventions. For some critics the satire has only this limited expression and aim, confined to the Oration in a kind of parody. For others the satire reaches more [[44]] widely, combining with Adrastus' reflections on man's inveterate and foolish preference of war to peace (734–49, 949x54) to invalidate the moral lesson of Athens' glorious campaign against Thebes: before and after his Oration Adrastus deplores war but in it teaches the acquisition of martial virtue. All wars bring death and suffering – but the play ends with urgent hopes of revenge in yet another war against Thebes, by the Epigoni and with the sanction of the gods (Athena dea ex machina 1214–26). This kind of argument for the ambivalence of the whole play relies in the Oration on two basic contentions, that Adrastus holds up as moral examples heroes established in the myth as monsters, in particular Capaneus and Tydeus, and that his other portraits of Eteoclus, Hippomedon and Parthenopaeus are merely punning extrapolations of their names. Both conventions lack substance. Dramatists' imagination within the broad outline of myth was always free. The truism can be invoked to support any critical position, but that does not imperil its truth. Characterisation (I use the term with due caution) is always subordinate to the dramaturgy of the whole play, and sometimes to the individual scene, according to what A.M. Dale illuminatingly describes as ‘the trend of the action and the rhetoric of the situation’.28 There is nothing surprising, then, in a Capaneus made temperate and uncompromisingly loyal for the Oration – and the exemplary portrait set prominently at its start serves too as a preparatory motif for his wife Evadne's suicide: she dies from devotion to a model husband.29 While Euripides has the Theban Herald recall Capaneus' ὕβρις at Thebes (496–9), this is in the special context of the agon with Theseus; he is careful to have Theseus as the agon's moral ‘victor’ argue (p.123) that with their death Capaneus and all the Seven have paid their debt to justice: their account is settled (528ff., esp. 530 ἡ δίκη διοίχεται).30

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices With regard to the second basic contention, ‘etymological’ exploitation of names had become in later fifth-century tragedy a mainly decorative device, without dramatic significance.31 The claim for reliance on such etymologies in the Oration does not stand up, however, whether made for material contribution to the satire or even for mere ornament. Capaneus and Tydeus have inappropriate etymologies.32 No part of Eteoclus' portrait plays on the obvious division into ἐτεό ς | κλέος, καλεῖν ‘called true’, i.e. ‘loyal’ – except in the reference to civic conscience common to all the heroes. Hippomedon's delight in horsemanship (ἵπποις … χαίρων) is only one aspect of his exclusively physical ἄσκησις. Parthenopaeus' epicene attractiveness to lovers but constant innocence is an interpolation (see on 899–900 in §A above).33 Adrastus' portraits of valour through virtue are true rather to Theseus' demands in 842–3: they describe through individual examples the various facets of a civic virtue which finds its ultimate proof in a brave death for the common cause, as all the heroes have died: Capaneus, a model of temperance, loyalty and good faith to all who asked and received his promise; Eteoclus, incorruptible by the money his friends freely offered to relieve his poverty, and trusting always the common cause rather than the individual; Hippomedon, ascetically preoccupied with physical service to the city; Parthenopaeus, the model metic identifying totally with his adopted city's fortune; Tydeus, the brilliant warrior – but his peculiar civic virtue is missing from the text. The portraits all end with the same specific reference, but all are different in character; no detail is duplicated between any two of them – or within any one of them, for the repetitions of 902–8 are the result of interpolation. Together the portraits illustrate a wide range of social and civic virtues able to be acquired by any man if he schools himself to them. This is why the larger-thanlife heroes of the myth are tailored to the dramatist's purpose, Capaneus no less than Hippomedon, whose gigantic size (A. Sept. 488) is suppressed so that physical prowess may not seem exclusive to the physically well-endowed. [[45]] The virtues of the dead are still conventional in their heroic and mythical provenance, but A. Dihle has found in their distinctively descriptive approach to the human personality a symptom of the emerging literary genre of biography.34 Individualism is wholly compatible with aspiration to a common excellence and service: once more, the Oration is seen to share the ethical assumptions of the public epitaphios. One last aspect now of the character of the Oration which can easily be overlooked. Praise of the dead was not exclusive to the public and epideictic (p.124) epitaphios, but immemorial in everyday funeral custom. Grave-side eulogies or laudatory laments were native to Greek poetry from the earliest time; later the θρῆνος became a distinctive lyric genre. The first ‘literary’ γόοι εὐκλεεῖ ς are those for Hector in II.24.719–76, and tragedy naturally and inevitably has many of them: they can be lyric θρῆνοι like Tro.51 Iff. or epideictic in conception and framed in iambic rhesis like Tro.1156ff.35 Adrastus' Oration owes something to this regular dramatic form no less than to the equally common ἐγκώμιον, again either lyric like And.789ff. or iambic like Erectheus fr. 360.36 This second and less commonly recognised debt to tragedy's traditional resources is not less important to the Oration's wider criticism than its affinities with the public epitaphios, and it will be recalled in the wider discussion which follows. II. Place and function in the second half of the play The play falls dramatically into two parts, 1–633, Theseus' acceptance of the suppliants' request to recover the dead; 634–1234, recovery and funerals. The two long episodes m the first half are both agonistic m character (87–364, 381–597).37 The parados and first two stasima are kept very brief in order to secure urgent cohesion for the

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices action, highlighting only its critical turns (42–86 formal supplication; 365–80 anxious joy at Theseus' acceptance of the request; 598–633 anxiety for the war's outcome); the same dramatic effect is achieved by the astrophic dactyls which interrupt the first episode after Theseus' initial rejection of the suppliants (271–85: see n. 38). The second half of the play has three episodes in which the number of dialogue trimeters successively declines (144: 110: 80); the concomitant increase in the length and variety of the lyrics matches the changing quality of the action, as simple pathos gives way to more extreme emotions (third stasimon of 16 w. coupled with kommos of 44 w.; fourth stasimon of 26 w. coupled with monody of 53 w.; final kommos of 51 w.). The ‘double’ nature of the third and fourth lyric systems 778–837 and 955–1033 is matched by similar internal division within the episodes 634–777, 838–954, 980–1113 between active and static scenes.38 The whole may be set out schematically: (p.125)

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices

Third

634–777

Episode

Third

778–837

Stasimon & Kommos Fourth

838–954

634–733

ἀγγελία

static

734–49

reflective rhesis by Adrastus

static

750–77

stichomythic dialogue: bodies' return imminent; exit of Messenger and Adrastus [[46]]

movement

778–93

stasimon

passive lament

794–837

entry of cortège, kommos

active lament

838–917

entry and rhesis of Theseus; the Oration

static

918–24

lyric lament

static

925–54

stichomythic dialogue; funeral arrangements

action

Episode

cortège exits for cremations, with Theseus and Adrastus Fourth

955–79

passive lament

Stasimon Fifth

980–1113

980–1033

Evadne's entry and monody

Episode

passionate lyric movement

1034–71

Iphis enters; rhesis and stichomythia leading to Evadne's suicide

1072–9

dochmiac exclamations atthe suicide39

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action

The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices 1080–113

pathetic reflection by Iphis static and his exit re-entry in procession ofashes of the dead, borne bytheir Sons, with Theseusand Adrastus

Final

1114–64

Kommos Exodus

active lament 1165–1234

Argive gratitude; Athenaforetells the revenge of the Epigoni

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices The alternation between static lament and dramatic movement across boundaries of dialogue and lyric throughout the second half of the play is remarkable. Euripides uses purely formal devices to give an impression of connected development for a series of dramatically disparate scenes. Joy at the Messenger's news of Theseus' victory is confined to the first part of the third episode (650–733) – and to the Chorus, who alone converse with him there. Adrastus' rhesis (734–49) divides the essentially static ἀγγελία from his quicker dialogue with the Messenger in which he learns of (p.126) the imminent arrival of the bodies. His speech is also the first of the many pathetic reflections, some brief, some extended, some iambic, some lyric, to which Euripides now has the victims of the Argive disaster give way once their preoccupying anxiety to recover the dead has been ended. In the first half of the play [[47]] there was no place for static lament, except as an emotive stimulant of Athenian pity, either Aethra's (parados 42–86) or Theseus' (astrophic dactyls 271–85: compare the captatio misericordiae informing much of Adrastus' rhesis in the first agon, 163–92). The second half of the play completes logically the action of the first, in that recovery of the dead is followed by their funerals, but it also develops naturally the ἤθη of the bereaved. Recovery of their dead sons only confirms the Chorus' grief by bringing home to them their irreparable loss.40 In the Messenger scene, mention of the bodies is kept to a minimum in the ἀγγελία itself (only 670, 725), so that the victory's joyful meaning for the Chorus is not clouded; Adrastus' succeeding reflections are general in character and so help preserve in isolation this mood of happiness. Thereafter, it is Adrastus and not the Chorus who enquires about the bodies (750ff.). The Messenger's last words are a plain hint from the poet why he keeps the Chorus itself silent after the main report until their stasimon at 778ff.: 770 ἄκραντ᾽ ὀδύρῃ ταῖσδέ τ᾽ ἐξάγεις δάκρυ he says, when Adrastus cries out in grief at not having died himself. The Messenger knows the sight of their sons' bodies will bring the Chorus renewed weeping.41 Within their brief stasimon 778–93 the Chorus abandon their joy in the victory for the grief of desolation: 778 τὰ μὲν εὖ, τὰ δὲ δυστυχῆ they begin, 792–3 νῦν δ᾽ ὁρῶ σαφέστατον κακόν, τέκνων φιλτάτων στερεῖσα they end. This first statement of despair precedes the entry of the cortège, and the deposition of the biers in the orchestra recalls the real-life prothesis or exposure of the dead;42 the preliminary ritual washing, laying out and dressing of the bodies, normally the duty of the female relatives, have already been performed by Theseus before the return to Eleusis (762–8). In real life mourning began with ritual greeting of the exposed dead by the male relatives and friends: this part of the funeral rites is only reflected in Adrastus' words at 772f., his greeting being made off-stage. For the theatre audience, therefore, mourning starts with the kommos 798–837, immediately after the entry of the cortège. The ekphora, or carrying out of the dead for burial, occurred in real life on the third day of the prothesis; public epitaphioi were pronounced then.43 The whole episode 838–954 simulates the ekphora, but once more theatrical practicalities prevent a literal copy. The cremations must take place offstage, so that the Oration has to precede the cortège's exit. Euripides (p.127) maximises the theatrical effect by following the kommos directly with the static Oration; he has Theseus' orders for the cremations in the second part of the episode immediately precede the exit of the cortège. The Chorus leave the orchestra during a play only most exceptionally, and with strong dramatic cause (as in Aeschylus' Eumenides and Sophocles' Ajax), so that Euripides invents a credible obstacle to their natural attendance of the ceremonies: the bodies are so disfigured by wounds and corruption that it will be less harrowing for the mothers to defer physical embrace until the ashes are brought in (941–9: cf. 1114–15, 1160). So the cortège

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices leaves again at 954, in a further theatrical display. The Chorus sing of their new sense of final separation from their sons, intensified by the reality of cremation; they will have left only sad memories and the last rites of funeral when the ashes are finally buried at Argos (fourth stasimon, 955–79). Third stasimon, first kommos, fourth episode and fourth stasimon (together, 778–979) dramatise prothesis and ekphora. The lyrics and the Oration portray the varying tempi and formalities of grief by both relatives and friends. The processional exit of the cortège breaks the constant focus on the bodies as the object of collective anxiety, and at its dramatic climax: with cremation recovery has been fully achieved (16–19, 25–6, 60–2 etc.). Now follow both in contrast and yet in logical consequence Evadne's suicide and Iphis' desolation: the two personal vignettes illustrate extreme reactions to bereavement and war's suffering, but point also to its universality.44 This fifth episode (980–1113) is wholly [[48]] self-contained dramatically, ending as abruptly with Iphis' departure as it began with Evadne's remarkable entry. When it is over, Euripides resumes the main action in the same emotional key as he left off: the ashes return in another solemn procession, carried now by the Sons of the dead, who join with the Chorus in a second kommos. In the second half of the play Euripides shows how the despairing sorrow of bereavement affects survivors from all generations: the older in the Chorus and Iphis, the younger in the Sons, the coeval in Adrastus and Evadne. This is the dramatic and continuously pathetic frame in which the Oration is contained. Its close allusive association with the immediately preceding kommos has been noted. Its special role in the episode is marked by the brief concluding lyrics of the Chorus, 918–24. In form and place the Oration is in harmony with its surroundings. What now of the orator himself, Adrastus? His stature at this point of the play is an important guide to the Oration's sincerity. His qualifications to deliver it have already been reviewed (§1.A above, on 838–40), but there are wider implications in Euripides' choice of him. (p.128) In the first half of the play, Adrastus is still tainted morally from his just defeat at Thebes; so Theseus declines to help the suppliants (219–49) until Aethra shows him a higher duty than that to Athens' own welfare calls him: the common law of god and man requires burial for all the dead (301–13, 339–41: cf. 526–7, 561–3, 670–2). In his agon with the Theban Herald Theseus contends that the Seven have expiated their moral taint with their death (528–30: noted in §1.B). Adrastus, the survivor, is kept on stage but silent by Euripides from the moment Theseus rejects his supplication (262); he hears Aethra then convert her son, but the suppliants' joy is expressed by the Chorus (365–80); he has to listen in silence throughout the agon with the Theban Herald – indeed, Theseus roughly checks him when he attempts to intervene (513). He has no chance to express even repentance; he is still so tainted that Theseus will not risk his company in the war (589ff.). Even the news of victory is given exclusively to the Chorus, who make the formal acknowledgement (634–49, cf. 731–3). Only then is Adrastus allowed to break the long silence he has held since 262. He has been present on the stage throughout; he has seen Theseus manage successfully moral and political problems not too unlike those with which he failed himself; and he has heard of Theseus' just victory. Now at 734–49 he reflects on the folly with which he himself, like so many of mankind, rejected conciliation and rushed into unnecessary war, bringing on disaster.45 The pathetic reflection marks Adrastus' moral rehabilitation. If he has made no actual recompense, as the Seven have done with their lives, he admits error and the possibility of reform. With self-recognition he becomes conscious too of the suffering he has brought upon the other survivors: at the end of his dialogue with the Messenger

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices he declares 769 οἴμοι· πόσῳ σφιν συνθανεῖν ἂν ἤθελον he speaks of death's irreparable loss, 775–7. Adrastus refinds his capacity as a feeling person together with his sense of kingly responsibility. His brief exit to greet the approaching cortège implies his new and deeper sympathy with the Chorus: it is Adrastus who invites the Kommos (798–801). Indeed, he goes beyond the mothers' grief, lamenting not just for his dead friends but for his city; he calls Argos to witness his own suffering (808), which he would now rather have avoided by dying in the battle (821: cf. 769 above): the Erinys of Oedipus has destroyed also Argos in the marriages of Polynices and Tydeus to Adrastus' daughters (834–7, cf. 132ff., 220ff.). The Kommos towards its ends (820–37) plays as much on Adrastus' misery as the mothers': here is one truly purged by pain. Immediately afterwards Adrastus delivers the Oration on the friends he led to defeat, for whom his sense of loss is now fully awakened: 857–60 οὐκ ἄκοντί μοι | δίδως ἔπαινον ὧν ἔγωγε βούλομαι | φίλων ἀληθῆ καὶ (p.129) δίκαι᾽ εἰπεῖν πέρι, cf. 774–5 φίλους προσαυδῶν, ὧν λελειμμένος τάλας | ἔρημακλαίω. His Oration done and his [[49]] submissiveness to Theseus' orders for the cremations made clear, Adrastus ends the episode with a recapitulation of the thoughts with which he broke his long silence, on the folly of war (949–54: cf. 734–49). The signficance of this overt thematic repetition in the whole complex of mourning rituals and pathetic reflections is transparent.

Conclusion The Oration stands therefore in formal harmony with its dramatic setting, funeral rite and extended lyric lament; nothing is more natural in Tragedy than a rhesis praising the dead. The orator himself has an independent stature increased by his own tragic experience and the skilful economy of his speaking part. On both speech and speaker lies the sanction of poetic myth (Pind. Ol. 6.12ff.). All these external factors point to the Oration's sincerity. The Oration's ethical premise, moreover, conforms with its model m the solemn public epitaphios. An Athenian audience would hear at once in the unequivocal reference a token of the poet's earnest; Thucydides II.34.6–7 gives proof enough of the undiminished esteem attaching to the annual epitaphios in the first decade of the Peloponnesian War to which Supplices belongs. The Oration's dramatically inevitable focus on individual rather than anonymous heroes would be readily understood, like its symbolic contribution to their extended mourning; but the audience would pick up no less quickly, and without surprise, Euripides' wider meaning to themselves (cf. n. 8). I will not try to enlarge upon Zuntz' convincing exposition of how the Oration ‘is an essential supplement to the theoretical teaching’ of the play: Adrastus prescribes from the example of the dead a way to civic virtue and valour in its defence matching the ideals already postulated by Theseus (in his agon with Adrastus himself: 195–218) and then gloriously vindicated in his own and Athens' conduct against Thebes.46

Notes (p.133) (p.136)

Endnote 2006 I record here some reactions to this article which I have seen, categorised as objectively as possible.

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices Generally sympathetic to my interpretation

M. di Marco, ‘Il dibattito politico nell’ agone delle bupplici di Euripide, Helikon 20–21 (1980–81) 163–206, at 184 n. 3.C. Macleod, ‘Thucydides and Tragedy’, Collected Essays (Oxford, 1983) 140–58, at 148–51. M.S. Mirto, ‘I1 lutto e la cultura delle madri. Le ‘Supplici’ di Euripide’, QUCC 47 (1984) 55–88, at 77–9. A.N. Michelini, ‘Political themes in Euripides’ Supplices', AJP 115 (1994) 219–52, at 241–5. F. Jouan, ‘Les rites funéraires dans les Suppliantes d'Euripide’, Kemos 10 (1997) 215–32, at 227–8. A.M. Bowie, ‘Tragic filters for history: Euripides’ Supplices and Sophocles' Philoctetes', in C. Pelling (ed.), Greek Tragedy and the Historian (Oxford, 1997) 39– 62, at 51–3. Neutral or ambivalent towards my interpretation

D. Lanza, II tiranno e il suo pubblico (Torino, 1977) 103–8. J.E.G. Whitehorne, ‘The dead as spectacle in Euripides’ Bacchae and Supplices', Hermes 114 (1980) 59–72, at 69. P. Burian, ‘Pathos and logos: The Politics of the Suppliant Women’, in P. Burian (ed.), New Directions in Euripidean Criticism (Durham NC, 1985) 129–55 and 212–21, at 129, 146–9. M. Heath, The Poetics of Greek Tragedy (London, 1987) 136 n. 28. H.M. Foley, ‘The politics of tragic lamentation’, in A.H. Sommerstein et al. (p.137) (eds), Tragedy, Comedy and the Polis (Ban, 1993) 119–20, cf. her Female Acts in Greek Tragedy (Oxford, 2001) 37–8. M. Neumann, Gegenwart und mythische Vergangenheit bei EuripidesHermes Einzelschriften 69 (Stuttgart, 1995) 160–2. C. Pelling, ‘Conclusion … tragedy … ideology’, in D. Pelling (ed.), Greek Tragedy and the Historian (Oxford, 1997) 213–35, at 230–3. S. Said, ‘Tragedy and polities’, in D. Boedeker & K. Raaflaub (eds), Democracy, Empire and the Arts in Fifth Century Athens (Cambridge, Mass., & London, 1998) 275–95, at 289–90. Unsympathetic or resistant to my interpretation

N. Loraux, The Invention of Athens (trans. A. Sheridan from 1st French edn. of 1981: Cambridge, Mass., & London, 1986) 107–8. M. H. Shaw, ‘The ἦθος of Theseus in “The Suppliant Women”’, Hermes 110 (1982) 3–19, at 12 n. 22. M. Toher, ‘Euripides' “Supplices” and the social function of funeral ritual’, Hermes 129 (2001) 332–43, at 336 n. 22. D. Mendelsohn, Gender and the City in Euripides' Political Plays (Oxford, 2002) 187–197 (‘Adrastus' Epitaphios: ironizing masculine heroism’). Notes: (1) . J.W. Fitton, ‘The Suppliant Women and the Herakleidai of Euripides’, Hermes 89 (1961) 430– 61; on the Oration, esp. 437–40. W.D. Smith, ‘Expressive form in Euripides’ Suppliants, HSCPh 71 (1966) 151–70; on the Oration, esp. 162–4; cf. the résumé of his unpublished dissertation Dramatic Structure and Technique in Euripides' Suppliants (Harvard, 1955) in HSCPh 62 (1957) 152–4. See too the earlier essay by L.H.G. Greenwood, Aspects of Euripidean Tragedy (Cambridge, 1952) 92–120 ‘The Suppliants reconsidered’, e.g. (p. 99) ‘… there are things even in this play which are not easy to explain on the assumption that Euripides does mean what he appears to mean, and not something else, and which suggest that the critic and satirist is not, after all, on holiday’; cf. more recently R.B. Gamble, ‘Euripides' Suppliant Women: decision and ambivalence’, Hermes 98 (1970) 385–405, esp. 403f. on the ‘ambivalence and contradictions in the treatment of Capaneus’. A capitulation before the problems of the whole scene, ‘unsatisfactory in style and content’, with Adrastus' speech condemned as ‘curiously frigid … but it does not seem as if Euripides could have written what we have’, by G.M.A. Grube, The Drama of Euripides (London, 19612) 237f. Both Fitton (445–8) and Smith (151–2 and nn.) include useful

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices surveys of the play's critical history. A comprehensive general bibliography will be found in my Commentary on the play (Groningen, 1975). [[50]] (2) . The Political Plays of Euripides (Manchester, 1955), hereafter PPE. (3) . Zuntz, PPE 13–16, 19, 23, 24. Among earlier critics taking an uncomplicated view of the Oration one in particular is noteworthy: A. Rivier, Essai sur le tragique d'Euripide (Lausanne, 1944) 174: ‘ce drame … nous la [mort] montre humanisée par la magnificence du rituel funèbre … simplement, on les plaint, ces héros; on les pleure, on les admire’. (4) . Earlier and more tentative versions of this paper were read to seminars in the Institute of Classical Studies in February 1970 and the University of Groningen in November of the same year. I am grateful for the comments made then. (5) . 860–6 are variously quoted by Plutarch, Diogenes Laertius, Stobaeus and (twice) Athenaeus; 874–80 by Stobaeus (twice); 890–1 by schol. Pho. 1153; 901–8 by schol. II. 4.400, Numenius, Stobaeus and John of Damascus; 911–17 by Stobaeus and John of Damascus. Testimonia to the text of Supplices are most conveniently consulted in the ‘Budé’ edition. (6) . ‘Absolute’ comparative; for σοφός of rhetorical skill the locus classicus is E. fr. 189, from the Antiope: ἐκ παντὸ ς ἄν τις πράγματος δισσῶν λόγων | ἀγῶνα θεῖ τ᾽ ἄν, εἰ λέγειν εἴη σοφό ς. Adrastus' eloquence was proverbial: Pl. Phdr. 269a post Tyrt. 12.8. There is an obvious comparison with Thuc. II.34.6 ἐπειδὰν δὲ κρύψωσι γῇ, ἀνὴρ ᾑρημένος ὑπὸ τῆς πόλεως, ὃ ς ἂν γνώμῃ τε δοκῇ μὴ ἀξύνετος εἶναι καὶ ἀξιώσει προήκῃ, λέγει ἐπ᾽ αὐτοῖ ς ἔπαινον τὸνπρέποντα. (7) . On this last point, of cardinal but unrecognised importance, see §II. As for the others, which rule out many editors' identifications of 838 σε with the Chorus (and the contingent absurdity of Theseus inviting their own grieving mothers to eulogise the dead) or with ‘some Argive leader’ (Murray), cf. E. Fraenkel, Zu den Phoinissen des Euripides SB München 1963. 172 n. 2. For a full discussion of 838–40, and a review of the often drastic remedies proposed for their cure, see my Commentary. In 840 acceptance of ἱστορῶ for L's εἰσορῶ is unquestionably right, ‘now I ask Adrastus’; this supralinear variant is in the handwriting of Triclinius but attributable to the tradition rather than his own conjecture: see G. Zuntz, An Inquiry into the Transmission of the Plays of Euripides (Cambridge, 1965) 76. (8) . 843 νέοισιν ἀστῶν τῶνδε is intentionally vague in reference. Only Athenians fought the second battle at Thebes, Theseus expressly forbidding participation by the still tainted Adrastus and his Argives (589–93: cf. 222–8). The bodies have been brought into the orchestra at 794ff. by bearers furnished therefore from the Athenian army – but the demonstrative pronoun not only refers to them but embraces also the theatre audience: the Oration is a parainesis directed also to contemporary Athenians. The poet's intention becomes clear with the overtly parenetic imperatives at 917 οὕτω παῖ δας εὖ παιδεύετε and in Adrastus' envoi at the episode's end, 949– 54. (9) . See CQ 13 (1963) 184. There are two principal considerations: (a) lightning, and particularly Zeus' lightning, is never expressed by βέλος without adjectival qualification or contextual colouring which makes the metaphor clear, e.g. PV 917 πύρπνουν βέλος, A. Sept. 453 κεραυνοῦ … βέλος, S. OC 1515 τὰ πολλά τε στράψαντα χειρὸ ς τῆ ς ἀνικήτου βέλη and e.g. Sept. 255 Ζεῦ, τρέψον εἰ ς ἐχθροὺ ς βέλος, 513 Ζεὺς … διὰ χειρὸ ς βέλος φλέγων, PV 358 Ζηνὸ ς ἄγρυπνον βέλος, Pind. Nem. 10.8 κεραυνωθεῖσα aιὸ ς βέλεσιν (b) the significance of Polybius' quotation of

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices 860 (Hist. Y.9, where the context explains the deliberate modification of ὁρᾷ ς τὸ aῖον οὗ βέλος διέπτατο;) is to confirm that Euripides wrote a specifying adjective for βέλος. I am not convinced by a recent defence of ἁβρόν against Tyrwhitt and myself: J.T. Hooker, SO 47 (1972) 64f. (10) . In tragedy A. Sept. 532, E. Pho. 150, 1106, 1153, and possibly S. OC 1321–2 (text disputed). (11) . Without παῖ ς, 889 has choriambic anaclasis of the first metron, a phenomenon not common in dialogue trimeters but well enough attested in both iambographers and tragedians: Dindorf made 889 conform with one of the examples, A. Sept. 547 Παρθενοπαῖος Ἀρκά ς · ὁ δὲ τοιόσδ᾽ ἀνήρ. Supp. 889 should be removed from metricians' curio cabinets: see M.L. West, Greek Metre (Oxford, 1982) 82; cf. V. Schmidt, Sprachliche Untersuchungen zu Herondas (Berlin, 1968) 96ff. (12) . G. Norwood, Essays in Euripidean Drama (Cambridge, 1954) 147 n. 1; J. Diggle, CPPhS NS 15 (1969) 48; I have found the same conjecture in an unpublished marginal note of E.B. England, [[51]] editor of both Iphigenias in the late nineteenth century, τόσας is rejected by C. Austin and M.D. Reeve, Maia 22 (1970) 14 on a point of idiom: Euripides uses τόσος (10 times) and τόσως (3 times) only with τόσως; at Med. 725 τοσόνδε should probably be read, with ms. B. [2006: Diggle deletes this line, recording that τοσόνδε stands also in mss OCDE.] Austin and Reeve's argument has force, because the same restriction holds also for Sophocles at least in trimeters (Aj. 277): see Kamerbeek's n. on Track. 53. (13) . TLG VI.2290, s.v. ὅσος. [2006: In 1972 I had written that the difficulty was ‘perhaps exaggerated, because this use of the postponed exclamatory pronoun may after all be within Greek idiom’; and I cited both P. Monteil, La phrase relative en grec ancien (Paris, 1963) 222, who compares Hipp. 469 ἐ ς δὲ τὴν τύχην | πεσοῦσ᾽ ὅσην συ πῶ ς ἂν ἐκνεῦσαι δοκεῖ ς;, a much less extreme example of postponement, and analogous passages gathered by (Headlam-)Thomson on Ag. 336. By 1984 in my edition I had changed my mind; and in 2004 I was at last able to consult but was not convinced by O. Lagercrantz, ‘Zu den griechischen Ausrufesätzen’, Eranos 18 (1918) 26–113, who at 55 defends Supp. 899 ὅσας.] (14) . e.g. Grube, Euripides 237 n. 1; T.B.L. Webster, Euripides (London, 1967) 126. (15) . The passage depends on the Homeric characterisation of Tydeus, II. 4.399ff., but it is easy to find analogous portraits, e.g. of Achilles at 18.105f. (16) . J. Toup, Emendationes in Suidam et Hesychium (London, 1760–6) III.250. (17) . Hermes 11 (1876) 302 – but there without τε: cf. however Herakles I2.219 n. 198 = Antigonos von Karystos (Berlin, 1881) 73; τῶν δ᾽ ἀγυμνάστωνσφαγεύ ς Herakles III.198. For ἀγύμναστος of military training cf. (γυμνή ς) Pho. 1147, Rhes. 31, 313, of hard physical experience Hel. 533, fr. 344; for σφαγεύ ς in E. see Wilamowitz on HF 451. Intrusive glosses are common in ms. L: in Supp. alone see 1002 [καθέξουσα], 1030 [ψυχᾶ ς] and perhaps 1022 [ἥξω]; cf. Zuntz, Transmission … of Euripides 228 n. (18) . For the expression cf. Hipp. 921, PV 62, for the metaphor Supp. 704, PV 920 δεινὸ ς παλαιστή ς, S. Phil. 432 σοφὸ ς παλαιστή ς; E.K. Borthwick, JHS 90 (1970) 20.

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices (19) . With παρέσχεν cf. however Or. 1170 δοῦλον παρασχὼν θάνατον, ‘giving (others by the manner of) his death (the name to call it by,) servile’, ἀκριβὴ ς μουσική is a very Euripidean expression, making of war ‘an exact art’: similar is Antiope fr. 188.2 〈kaì〉 πόνων (coni. E.K. Borthwick, CO 17 (1967) 41: πολέμων δ᾽ vel πραγμάτων δ᾽ testes) εὐμουσίαν ἄσκει. (20) . cf. e.g. Or. 903ff., 920ff., A. Sept. 609f.; (Headlam-) Thomson on Ag. 737–49. (21) . M. Landfester, Das griechische Nomen φίλος und seine Ableitungen (Hildesheim, 1961) 148ff.; cf. Wilamowitz, Aischylos-Interpretationen (Berlin, 1914) 38 n. 2. (22) . Smith 163f. insists against the unanimous view of editors since Musgrave that the ms. attribution of 925–31 to Adrastus is correct; Smith has Theseus begin at 932. The short rhesis adds rather perfunctory praise of the absent Amphiaraus and Polynices, which Smith harnesses to his general interpretation and takes to be an intentionally ‘fatuous’ validation of Adrastus' earlier eulogies. Smith's argument, as in many points of detail in his paper, rests on imperfect appreciation of tragic conventions: (1) the end of the Oration is marked emphatically by the concluding parainesis 909–17 and formally by the astrophic lyrics 918–24. For Adrastus to resume on a theme so conclusively abandoned flouts all conventions; Theseus, however, may add a comment on the two heroes whose absence and distinctive deaths set them apart; (2) Theseus ends his short rhesis by breaking off abruptly into more urgent business with ἀλλά in the normal tragic manner (Denniston, Particles 44; cf. Barrett on Hipp. 288); (3) 925–31 in the mouth of Theseus are thus a thematic ‘bridge’ between the static Oration and the arrangements for the funerals which Theseus now dictates, 932–49. (23) . Zuntz, PPE 13ff. recognises most sympathetically the obvious differences in circumstance and internal emphasis between the public rite and the theatrical simulation. For ‘political’ analogies between Supplices and the prose speeches see H. Bengl, Staatstheoretische Probleme im Rahmen der attischen, vornehmlich euripideischen Tragödie (München, 1929) 43–7 and S. Michaelis, Das Ideal der attischen Demokratie in den Hiketiden des Euripides und im Epitaphios des Thukydides (unpubl. diss. Marburg, 1952) esp. 51–6. [2006: On the ‘epitaphios’ as ‘genre’ see the comparative material recently gathered and analysed by B. Kartes, Der Epitaphios'des Lysias (diss. Saarbrücken, 2000) 1–25.] (24) . ‘Their mothers he cannot comfort: there is no comfort’, Zuntz, PPE 14; see my §11. [[52]] (25) . The content and tone of 846–56 have caused some critics to delete all or some of the verses on grounds of irrelevance (Nauck) or internal dittography (849–52 Gebhardt, 853–6 Wecklein), others to see in them a disingenuous sneer at the conventions of messenger speeches, and especially scenes in Aeschylus' Septem or Eleusinians (E. Fraenkel, Zu den Phoinissen des Euripides 56 n. 1, referring principally to Wilamowitz). It is typical of Euripides to laugh wryly at conventions to which he himself subscribes – all commentators refer to the similar remarks at El. 377–9 and Pho. 751, or to the comment on recognition scenes at El. 524ff. (on this passage see L. Radermacher, RhM 58 (1903) 546f.). Euripides never throws away these criticisms, however, even if those insensitive to his dramatic style find them irrelevant or incongruous: here his real purpose is to stress the peculiar demand Theseus makes of Adrastus as encomiast of the dead. [2006: El. 377–9 are however deleted by the recent editors Diggle, Cropp and Kovacs; 524ff. are not deleted (or the whole disputed passage 518–44) by Diggle, Cropp and Basta Donzelli, but are deleted by Kovacs (see his BICS 36 (1989) 67–78).]

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices (26) . Particularly well brought out by Zuntz, PPE 14f.; cf. M. Pohlenz, Die griechische Tragödie (Göttingen, 19542) 1.362. (27) . Euripides' views here of εὐανδρία as the product of the mind's schooling to constant practice conforms with the theory generally accepted by late-fifth-century sophism that learning may supplement natural wisdom: see W.K.C. Guthrie, History of Greek Philosophy III.250ff. [2006: Further material in my note on Нес. 592–602.] (28) . Alcestis (Oxford, 1954) xxv. [2006: The matter is continually debated: see e.g. D.J. Conacher, ‘Rhetoric and relevance in Euripidean drama’, AJP 102 (1981) 3–25, repr. in J. Mossman (ed.), Euripides. Oxford Readings in Classical Studies (Oxford, 2003) 81–101; M. Heath, The Poetics of Greek Tragedy (London, 1987) 130–7; S. Goldhill, ‘The language of tragedy: rhetoric and communication’, in P.E. Easterling (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Greek Tragedy (Cambridge, 1997) 127–50.] (29) . The dramatic importance of this preparatory motif was first noted by R. Sauer, Untersuchungen zu Euripides (Leipzig, 1931) 41. The same purpose governs the otherwise gratuitous casting of the Messenger as a former servant of Capaneus (639). (30) . Theseus follows this argument for ceasing to persecute the dead by contending that no warrior would be brave if he were not sure of burial for his body (538–41): he makes the same assumption as in 841–5 that death on the field is implicit proof of courage; cf. Adrastus at 909– 10. (31) . Comprehensive discussion of this stylistic commonplace, with bibliography, by Kannicht on Hel. 13–14 … Θεονόην· τὰ θεῖα γὰρ | τά τ᾽ ὄντα καὶ μέλλοντα πάντ᾽ ἐπίσταται (one of the few countervailing instances of meaningful use); for earlier poetry see especially D. Fehling, Die Wiederholungsfiguren und ihr Gebrauch vor Gorgias (Berlin, 1969) 260ff. [2006: Subsequently H. Van Looy, ‘παρετυμολογεῖ ὁ Εὐριπίδης’, Zetesis. Album … De Strycker (Antwerp, 1973) 345– 66, my n. on Supp. 496, and J. Diggle, ‘Epilegomena Phaethontea’, AC 65 (1996) 189–99, at 197 on Phaethon 225.] (32) . For Capaneus see Supp. 496–7 οὔ τἄρ᾽ ἔτ᾽ ὀρθῶ ς Καπανέως κεραύνιον | δέμας καπνοῦται (where the etymology colours but does not control the argument); a variant etymology at S. OC 1318–19 εὔχεται κατασκαφῇ | Καπανεὺ ς τὸ Θήβης ἄστυ δῃώσειν, Lycophron Alex. 652 Σκαπανεύ ς. (33) . 899–900 evoke Parthenopaeus' virginity besides his youthful beauty (this at A. Sept. 533 βλάστημα καλλίπρῳρον, ἀνδρόπαις ἀνήρ): the regular etymology is seen most clearly in S. OC 1321f. ἐπώνυμος τῆ ς πρόσθεν ἀδμήτης χρόνῳ | μητρὸ ς λοχευθεὶ ς (text disputed). (34) . Studien zur griechischen Biographie (Göttingen, 19702) 20ff. Dihle sees here influence of Socratic example and teaching. A. Momigliano, The Development of Greek Biography (Cambridge, Mass., & London, 1993) 49 thought that Xenophon must have had Euripides' portraits in Supp. 860ff. in mind when he composed his own for the dead generals in Anabasis. (35) . W. Schadewaldt, Monolog und Selbstgespräch (Berlin, 1926) 160 n. 2; cf. Fraenkel on Ag. 1547 (ἐπιτύμβιος αἶνος). (36) . Material in Schmid-Stählin, Geschichte der griechischen Literatur 1.3.753 n. 13.

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The Funeral Oration in Euripides' Supplices (37) .The first agon, between Theseus and Adrastus (111–262), is ignored completely by J. Duchemin, L'Agon dans la tragédie grecque (Paris, 19682): see the complaint in his review of the first edition by R. Goossens, AC 15 (1946) 162. [2006: 111–262 are also ‘disqualified’ as a full agon by M. Lloyd, The Agon in Euripides (Oxford 1992) 9.] (38) . It is noticeable that the first episode (87–364) is also bipartite: 87–262 agon of Theseus and Adrastus, with Theseus determining on inaction; 286–364 Aethra persuades Theseus to intervene; in between the Chorus supplicate Theseus, chiefly in passionate astrophic dactyls, 263–85. (39) . ‘Off-stage’: Evadne leaps from the audience's sight behind the σκηνή: there a brazier or the like simulated the smoking pyre. See P.D. Arnott, Greek Scenic Conventions (Oxford, 1962) 137f., [[53]] and especially J. de Romilly, L'Evolution du pathétique d'Eschyle à Euripide (Paris, 1961) 36ff. [2006: also e.g. O. Taplin, The Stagecraft of Aeschylus (Oxford, 1977) 440 and D.J. Mastronarde, ‘Actors on high: the skene roof, the crane and the gods in Attic drama’, ClAnt 9 (1990) 247–94, at 264–5, 281; asserting the use of the ‘crane’, e.g. D. Wiles, Tragedy in Athens (Cambridge, 1997) 184–6.] (40) .‘The action has reached its goal, the passion goes on’: Zuntz, PPE 11. (41) . See the appreciation of the episode's structure by G. Erdman, Der Botenbericht bei Euripides (Kiel, 1964) 14f. (noted by E.R. Schwinge, Die Verwendung der Stichomythie bei Euripides (Heidelberg, 1968) 172ff.). (42) . D.M. Kurtz & J. Boardman, Greek Burial Customs (London, 1971) 143f. (43) . Kurtz & Boardman 144ff., cf. 112. (44) . cf. Zuntz, PPE 12f. (45) . Euripides is thought to have invented Eteocles' offer of conciliation and its spurning (739– 41) purely to increase the pathos of Adrastus' reflection. The incident is not recorded elsewhere in literature. [2006: In the original article I mentioned that K. Jeppesen had recently adduced the passage to the interpretation of a vase-painting of about 460 BC; but he quickly abandoned it: see LIMC IV. 1.34, no. 46 (I. Krauskopf).] (46) . Zuntz, PPE 15f.

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The Date of Euripides' Suppliants and the Date of Tim Rice's Chess

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

The Date of Euripides' Suppliants and the Date of Tim Rice's Chess Liverpool Classical Monthly 15.3 (March 1990) 48 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0009

Abstract and Keywords This play dramatises the Athenians’ recovery of dead heroes after the mythical battle of the ‘Seven Against Thebes’ (see 8) above) in which the victorious Thebans refused recovery for burial; in 424 BC the Thebans victorious over the Athenians at Delium at first refused recovery. The play's date is unknown, but conjectured from internal evidence to be the 420's – but did its composition precede the historical event, or was it inspired by it± Similar artistic coincidences of fiction with reality are noted from recent times, especially that in Tim Rice's Chess, which prompted the original paper. The version now printed brings up to date the scholarly discussion of Suppliants’ date since the author's commentary of 1975. Keywords:   Euripides, Suppliants, date

G. Zuntz, The Political Plays of Euripides (Manchester, 19632) 4: ‘If the battle of Delion is taken to be re-enacted on the stage [that is, the conception of Suppliants must be later than 424 BC], Aeschylus, in the Eleusinians had managed to visualise the same situation nearly fifty years before it became reality’; the parenthesis is mine. C. Collard, Euripides: Supplices (Groningen, 1975) 1.10: ‘It would be very remarkable indeed if a play which other indications place in the middle or late 420s, and which dramatises refusal of burial to slain warriors as a moral issue between Thebes and Athens, should not have been prompted by, and therefore be later in date than, the Theban refusal to relinquish the Athenian dead for burial after the campaign at Delium in the November of 424’. I cite Zuntz' opinion ibid. n. 32. 1986 saw the production of a new musical entitled Chess, by Tim Rice, in which a Russian chessplayer eloped with an American rival's woman ‘second’ during an international tournament. Such an elopement actually occurred during the Chess Olympiad of November 1988. Tim Rice himself, Daily Telegraph (29 November 1988) 20, recalled that first-night critics had called Chess Page 1 of 3

The Date of Euripides' Suppliants and the Date of Tim Rice's Chess ‘trite and improbable’ and ‘sadly behind the times’: he observed ‘it is now clear that my mistake was in being nearly three years ahead of them’. Zugzwang against me?

(p.139) Note 2006 History repeats itself repeatedly: Thomas Adès's vocal work America. A prophecy (Op. 19: commissioned as a ‘Message for the Millennium’, first performed in New York in 1999, published 2002) was based on ancient Mexican texts foretelling the destruction of Mayan culture (by invasive Christianity). It contained the words: O my Nation Prepare They will come from the east Their god stands on the pole They will burn all the sky They will break with a cross O my nation Your gods, your fathers, your children – words which were seen perhaps inevitably as allusively prophetic of ‘9/11’ (the destruction of the New York World Trade Center on 11 September 2001). In October 2003 in Britain, Kay Mellor's TV play Gifted had been filmed and was being edited for transmission; it concerned a young professional footballer accused of raping a young single mother. Just before the proposed broadcast, a teenage girl made allegations of rape against a group of young professional footballers; subsequently, one footballer was charged with the offence (November 2003), but the case was not pursued in the courts (January 2004). The broadcast had been cancelled (on legal advice), but even before that decision another professional footballer elsewhere had been accused of assault upon a young woman. A documentary film was made of the celebrated French footballer Zinedine Zidane playing in 2005 in a match which he ended by losing self-control and joining a brawl; he was given a ‘red card’ and sent off. The film was premiered at the 2006 Cannes Festival. Playing his last representative match for France in the 2006 World Cup only a few weeks later, Zidane ended both match and career with a similar loss of control and sending-off.

Endnote 2006 None of the many discussions of the date of Suppliants later than 1990 has taken account of my original note, but it was not reported in L'Année philologique. So it is striking both that my own greater openness to a date either side of 424 not only anticipated the views of most recent scholars, but (p.140) also that the same two passages from Zuntz and Collard are quoted and counterposed by S. Hornblower, Commentary on Thucydides 4.97.3 (Oxford, 1997) 307 and by J. Morwood in his forthcoming edition of the play (Oxford, 2006). Both cite A.M. Bowie, ‘Tragic filters for history’ in C.B.R. Pelling (ed.), Greek Tragedy and the Historian (Oxford, 1997) 45–7, who on 45 inclines to follow my dating but on 47 is more cautious and recognises Zuntz' contention as well-founded. Pelling himself in the same volume notes that Bowie accepts ‘the relevance of Delium’ to the play (217); and Pelling gives 424–420 BC as the likely dating (232). Much the same judgement as was reached by Bowie, Hornblower and Pelling stands in E. Hall,

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The Date of Euripides' Suppliants and the Date of Tim Rice's Chess Euripides. Orestes and other plays (Oxford, 2001) xxvii-viii and K. Matthiessen, Die Tragödien des Euripides (München, 2002) 123; so a new communis opinio seems to be emerging. Some other datings of Supplices since 1975 (supplementing the list in my edition, I.14): middle 420s or a little before: A.N. Michelini, ‘Alcibiades and Theseus in Euripides’ Suppliants', Colby Quarterly 33 (1997) 179 probably 424: H. Kuch, Euripides (Amsterdam, 2003) 18 after Delium and probably after 424: J.R. Ferreira, Humanitas 27–8 (1985–6) 87 n. 4; M. Cagnetta, ‘Euripides, Delion e il governo del demo’, Quademi di Storia 17 (1991) 145– 57, at 145; K. Raaflaub, HZ 25 (1992) 6; S. Mills, Theseus, Tragedy and the Athenian Empire (Oxford, 1997) 91; M. Toher, ‘Diodorus on Delium and Euripides' Supplices’, CQ 51 (2001) 180–1 and ‘Euripides' “Supplices” and the social function of funeral ritual’, Hermes 129 (2001) 341–2; D. Mendelsohn, Gender and the City in Euripides' Political Plays (Oxford, 2002) 2, in n. 1 from p. 1 424–420: J. Diggle, Euripidesll (OCT, 1981) 2 ‘utvidetur’ probably 423: A.M. Devine, L.D. Stephens, ‘A new aspect of the evolution of the trimeter in Euripides’, TAPA 111 (1981) 43–64, at 49 (further metrical indications); G. Mastromarco, ‘Per la datazione delle Supplici di Euripide’, Studi … G.Monaco (Palermo, 1991) 1.241–50; D. Kovacs, Euripides III (Loeb ed., 1998) 3 423–417 is the range given on refined metrical calculations by M.J. Cropp, M. Fick, Resolutions and Chronology in Euripides. The Fragmentary Tragedies. BICS Suppl. 43 (1985) 32 422 (apparently): M. Hose, Drama und Gesellschaft. Drama Beiheft 3 (Stuttgart, 1995) 193. (For di Benedetto's dating to 422 recorded in Supplices I.9 I should also have cited his subsequent Euripide. Teatro e società (Roma,) 154–62.)

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The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52 Sacris Erudiri 31 (1989–90) 85–97 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0010

Abstract and Keywords The paper discusses the relation of the plays third and final choral ode to the other two, in themes, narrative design, mood and tone, and as climax. The ode's metrical character and pictorial quality are given special notice. Keywords:   Euripides, Hecuba, choral ode, design, language, emotion

I. The Stasima of Hecuba considered together The stasimon is the last of the play's three. The only other substantial choral passage is the parados 98–152, in anapaestic recitative. There, the Chorus ‘narrate’ to Hecuba how the Achaeans in debate have resolved to sacrifice her daughter Polyxena to the dead Achilles. Narrative is a prominent mode of the play, both spoken and lyric. Talthybius 518–82 and Polymestor 1132–82 are given disguised messenger-speeches. Continuous narrative and evocative description of scene characterise all three stasima, which are similar in theme – seavoyages, the destruction of Troy; in mood – the despair of women as war's victims; – and in imagination, which although at times fantasising still represents collective detachment from the hard, individual experience of Hecuba.1 The second and third stasima correspond also in their general design. [[86]] The first stasimon 444–83 bridges the dramatic time between Polyxena's noble acceptance of her fate and Talthybius' admiring report of her courageous death. For such a purpose, between episodes so closely linked in their effect on Hecuba, the stasimon may at first seem diversionary, for the Chorus are preoccupied with their own destinations in slavery: where will wind, sea and ships carry them 444–57? To domestic servitude 447–9, 456–7? To the Peloponnese 450, Phthia 451–3, Delos 455, 458–65, or Athens 466–74? The last two places are evoked for their cultic glories, Delos for Apollo's palm and bay and the maidens dancing to honour golden Artemis, Athens for the gorgeously pictorial robe dedicated at the Panathenaea. Here, in the centre of the

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The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52 stasimon, the Chorus hope that even in slavery they may share something of the brilliance which reflects from (p.142) domestic security, the only security for women. Their last stanza 475–83 (antistrophe 2) contrasts the brutal reality, with an emphasis matched in the final stanzas of the second and third stasima, 647–57 and 943–52; their ancestral land, their children which were its future, are destroyed 475–6, cf. 648, 654, 946–8; they themselves must be slaves in another continent, leaving Asia for Europe 480–1, cf. 447–9, 456–7, slavery in place of death 483, the stasimon's final words. Polyxena has been glad for death in place of slavery 346–8, 367–8 (cf. 548), while the Chorus and Hecuba must live on, desolated of their splendid past and hope alike. This loss becomes insistently thematic after Polyxena's earlier perception 349–66, 416; compare in the following episode Talthybius' comment 492–8, Hecuba's own recognition 619–23 (and much later 806–11, addressed to Agamemnon) – and Polymestor's apostrophe of Troy ruined 953–61, immediately after the third stasimon.2 The second stasimon 629–57 is placed between Hecuba's half-proud, half-broken reaction to her daughter's death, and the discovery of Polydorus' body, her son treacherously murdered by Polymestor. The three stanzas trace the direct and inevitable consequences of Paris' foolish Judgement which destroyed Troy and others with it, the ἀρχὴ κακῶν: in the strophe, Paris takes ship to [[87]] abduct Helen 631–7, after introductory 629–30 ‘fated disaster and fated hurt’; in the antistrophe, back in time to the Judgement 640–6, after introductory 638–9 ‘pain and inescapable cruelties which outdo pain’; in the epode, forward to the present consequences, war and death and ruin for the Chorus' homeland 647–8, prefacing 649–57 the grief also of Spartan brides and mothers. The syntactical bridge joining antistrophe to epode 646/7 helps emphasise the causative link between the single, private folly of Paris 640 and the common agony now, both for Trojans 641, 647–8 and for others 643, 649–57. Euripides gives a sense of relentless progression towards this universal suffering by starting each stanza with strongly emotive nouns, 629 ‘disaster’, 630 ‘hurt’, 638 ‘pain’ (twice), 639 ‘inescapable cruelties’, 647–8 ‘war’, ‘bloodshed’ and ‘ruin’. Like the first stasimon, this one too seems at first to leave Hecuba aside for the Chorus' own suffering, and by reverting to the distant past to mark by that further detachment a major, mid-play division between the Polyxena and the Polymestor sequences. Again as in the first stasimon, the final stanza is nevertheless close to the scene which immediately follows, in evoking the universality of a mother's grief.3 The stasimon's full significance for the play, however, is seen only in retrospect from the third stasimon with which it corresponds so markedly in theme and structure. (p.143) The third stasimon 905–52 similarly recalls the past, but the more recent past, the destruction of Troy itself. The Chorus' experience of that night, and of its aftermath in exile and slavery, is presented as fresh and continuing; so it is more immediate, more specific in detailed recollection and therefore more individual, and more bitter in renewed recrimination – cursing, rather (945) – of Helen and Paris as cause. These qualities make the place of the stasimon all the more striking. In the third episode Hecuba has persuaded Agamemnon to condone if not to aid her revenge upon Polymestor; the episode ends with Hecuba summoning him 889–904. He arrives immediately after the third stasimon at 953, and there follows Hecuba's triumphant retaliation (fourth episode and [[88]] exodos). The stasimon should not be judged as a mere ‘actdivider’, mythological ‘foil’ or relief of mood, although it simulates a dramatic interval of time, and creates a mild tension, in deferring Polymestor's arrival.4 The stasimon's bitterness gives no relaxation from the preceding episode, although it does not illuminate Hecuba's own pain as clearly and as promptly as do the preceding two stasima by representing the experience of others anticipated or realised. Hecuba is now past the first agony of losing both daughter and son, and has exploited her general humiliation rhetorically to move Agamemnon's sympathy;5 Page 2 of 11

The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52 she wants revenge for a murderous and unholy betrayal which has destroyed the last of her family 714–20, 773–6, 789–92, 802–5, 834–5, 882. That is the movement in the play to which the stasimon relates directly, by its position; its general effect in this same place is less easily defined. II. 905–52: metrical character and poetic ‘ethos’ A reading of the stasimon is helped by the security of the Greek text; that printed by J. Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae I (Oxford, 1984) is almost entirely the textus receptus of 20th-century editors after Wilamowitz.6 [[89]] The stasimon is vividly pictorial. Its language varies between the direct and the allusive or suggestive, even polysemic.7 The predominant metre is dactylo-epitritic, varied especially in the second strophic pair by enoplian and aeolic whose double-short elements ‘suit’ the dactylic, and the epode with iambi whose rhythm ‘suits’ the epitritic.8 Euripides seems to favour dactyloepitritic, the prime metre of high choral lyric as we see it in Pindar, for his grander ‘epic’ narratives in stasima which contrast the heroic or tragic past with the unlovely present.9 The metre is common in his ‘dithyrambic’ stasima – the name first given by Kranz to these apparently often detached lyric descriptions because of their generally florid quality.10 Hec. 905– 52 happens to be the earliest surviving stasimon in this style, but has only a few marks of the later floridity.11 Two other ‘dithyrambic’ (p.144) stasima describe Sacks of Troy. ‘Iliuperseis’, Tro. 511–67 and IA 751–800; the first has the same dactylo-epitritic beginning, and shift to preponderant iambic, as Hec. 905–52: the second is almost wholly aeolic.12 The artistic accommodation between metre, particularly lyric metre, subject, language and ‘ethos’ is notoriously a dangerous topic for our now largely unguided speculation.13 In Hec. 905– 52 there is no consistent correlation of clear Epic vocabulary or allusion (907, 915–16, 920, 935, 945)14 and dactylic (907, 915–6, 945) – but we do [[90]] not know whether to expect such a correlation nor whether it may have been appreciated by Euripides' audience or readers.15 There are completely resolved iambic metra at 923=933 which lack sensual attachment (unless one presses the disordered hair in 923 and the haste in 933 to the point of fancy). The wholly resolved iambic dimeter at 927 may seem to suggest the sudden urgency of the Greeks' cry in 928, but there is no comparable effect at 938. At 950 in the epode, the iambic resolution of the phrase πέλαγος ἅλιον is determined by the ironic echo of the phrase from 938. Any judgements upon the metrical ethos of this stasimon, beyond the description ‘dithyrambic’, must be unambitious: (1) Period end is not easily determined, and a sense of rhythmic flow or momentum may be deliberate. Apart from stanza end, period end may occur at 907=916, in both places in mid-clause: at 925=935 it is probable after iambic metra syncopated to spondees, and clause end: at 947 in the epode it seems likely but in mid-clause. (2) The syntactical enjambement of the epode (942/3) has significance because the only other such enjambed epode in Euripides occurs in the preceding stasimon (646/7): there as here the device helps to make a triad into a continuous unit, narrative of the past leading across, and by means of, this join to the plaintive insistence upon the present.16 (3) A.M. Dale suggested that the second strophic pair 923–42 ‘seem to call for mimetic accompanying action’.17 She compared only Bacch. 977ff., where in the strophe 977ff the Chorus excitedly anticipate Pentheus' discovery and dismemberment, but in the antistrophe they subside into moralising. She might have compared at least Tro. 511–67, another Euripidean ‘Iliupersis’, full of vividly dramatised action (direct speech at 524ff, like Hec. 929ff. – indeed direct speech is prominent in ‘dithyrambic’ stasima).18 Dale's suggestion is loosely appreciative, not specifically metrical. [[91]]

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The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52 III. 905–52: language and imagery (In this section, my debts to earlier commentators are for the most part noted currente calamo.) (p.145) First, two places, one very difficult, where the prime meaning itself is disputed, 925 and 940. 925 χρυσέων ένόπτρων λεύσσουσ᾽ ἀτέρμονας εἰς αύγάς, the woman arranging her hair before bed. Scholia MB offer for ἀτέρμονας ‘unfilled, limitless, circular’, of the ‘unbroken’ circumference of the mirror. Most modern commentators agree that the adjective describes rather the mirror's ceaselessly changing reflections as the woman continually turns head, eyes and mirror itself to see her hair. I translate ‘looking into a golden mirror, endlessly glinting’, approximately as R.G. Ussher, CPh 52 (1957) 107 who cites PNem 4.82 ὁ χρυσòς έψόμενος αὐγὰς ἔδειξεν ἁπάσας, ‘the smelted gold displayed all its gleamings’. O. Skutsch, ibid. 173 interpreted ‘a bright golden mirror’, whose gleam shone far, like F.A. Paley's (Euripides, (London, 18722) I) ‘light flashed back without any definite limit’. W.S. Hadley (Hecuba (Cambridge, 1894)) had offered ‘fathomless bright depths’. Euripides often adduces effects of light and colour: Hyps. F 752 f. 3–4 ένόπτρου … αύγὰν (text damaged) is comparable, but cf. especially Ion 889 light upon crocus petals, Hipp. 740 upon women's tears (see S.A. Barlow, The Imagery of Euripides (London, 19711 = Bristol, 19862) 10 n. 37, 58–9; G. Xanthakis-Karamanos, Studies in FourthCentury Tragedy (Athens, 1980) 76). 940 νόστιμον ναῦς έκίνησεν πόδα: like Paley, I think πόδα ambiguous, suggesting both the ship's ‘sail’ or ‘sheet’ (1020, Or. 706, etc.) and the thing in motion in phrases like And. 546 τιϑέναι πόδα. One might translate, with equal ambiguity in English, ‘the ship set its course to return’. Second, there are some particularly allusive passages and notable effects of language. Epic reminiscences occur at 907 Ἑλλάνων νέφος ἀμφί σε (Τροίαν) κρύπτει ~ Hom. Il. 17.243 πολέμοιο νέφος περι πάντα καλύπτει, cf. Pho. 250 νέφος ἀσπίδων; 915 ἦμος (an Ionicism unique in Euripides) … ὕπνος ἡδὺς έπ᾽ ὄσσοις σκίδναται (deliberate sigmatism?) ~ 24.445 τοῖσι δ᾽ ἐφ᾽ ὕπνον ἔχενε, cf. Od. 19.590 etc.; 920 ξυστόν (only here in Euripides) ~ Il. 15.677 etc.; 930 ὦ παῖδες Ἑλλάνων (also A. Pers. 402) ~ 1.162, 2.83 υἷες Ἀχαιῶν; 935 Artemis protectress of Troy ~ 5.447 etc., cf. Tro. 553–4; 945 αἰνόπαριν ~ 3.39, 13.769 δόσπαρις·, cf. Alcman 77 PMG Page, A. Ag. 713, Eur. Hel. 1120, TrGF adesp. 644.40 (on this and comparable ‘emotive coinages’, see most recently J. Griffin, JHS 106 (1986) 48); and perhaps 946 ἐκ πατρίας ἀπώλεσεν ~ 6.60 [[92]] Ἰλίου ἐξαπολοίατο. Further, 914 μεσονύκτιος repeats a detail from Ilias Parva fr. 9 Bernabé =11 Kinkel νύξ μὲν ἔην μεσάτη (Bethe: μέσ(σ)η testim.), λαμπρὰ δ᾽ ἐπέτελλε σελήνη, cf. (p.146) Tro. 543, Austin on V. Aen. 2.255 and A.T. Grafton, N.M. Swerdlow, CQ 36 (1986) 212–18. Other Striking expressions: 910 ἀπò δὲ στεφάναν κέκαρσαι πύργων – complex and mixed imagery, literal in the razing of Troy's circling parapets, metaphorical from the cropping of the hair in token of grief, both literal and metaphorical in the removal of the ‘diadem’ of prosperity and quintessential glory, the ἄωτον: P. Isthm. 6.4 ἄωτον στεφάνων, cf. Ol. 5.1, 9.19; cf. (στεφάνη πύργων) Tro. 784 πύργων ἐπ᾽ ἄκρας στεφάνας, Ρ. Ol. 8.32, TrGF adesp. 644.38, A.P. 9.97; (ἀποκείζω) HF 875 ἀποκείρεται σὸν ἄνϑος πόλεος, (άπολωτίζω) ΙΑ 793. 911 κατὰ δ᾽ αἰϑάλου κηλῖ δ᾽ οἰκτροτάταν κέχρωσαι ~ A. Sept. 342 καπνῷ χραίνεται πόλισμ᾽ ἅπαν; 923–5 πλόκαμον ἀναδέτοις μίτραισιν ἐρρυϑμιζόμαν χρυσέων ἐνόπτρων λεύσσουσ᾽ ἀτέ ἀτέρμονας εἰς αὐγάς ~ Med. 1160–1 χρυσοῦν τε ϑεῖσα στέφανον ἀμφὶ βοστρύχους λαμπρῷ κατόπτρῳ σχηματίζεται κόμην, El. 1071 ξανϑòν κατόπτρῳ πλόκαμον ἐξήσκεις κόμης; Euripides uses golden mirrors to Page 4 of 11

The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52 characterise Trojan Helen's obsession with her looks Tro. 1107, Or. 1112.19 927ff. ἀνὰ δὲ κέλαδος ἔμολε πóλιν ~ Tro. 555–7 φοινία δ᾽ ἀνὰ πτόλιν βοὰ κατέσχε Περγάμων ἔδρας, cf. IA 778. 934 μονόπεπλος … ∆ωρìς ὡς κόρα: is the Dorian girl intrusive in the Trojan night? And. 596–9 famously register contemporary Athenian distaste for Spartan female undress, but the simile's very brevity in Hec., as well as the context of a wife's panic, show that the comparison is purely visual (Michelini 332 is surely wrong to import from And. the notion of ‘loose sexuality’, despite the clear sexual nuance of 926 and 933 discussed below: see also my n. 25). Euripides' purpose here may nevertheless be to recall the end of the second stasimon 650ff., a recognition that Spartan women no less than Trojan have lost both husbands and sons (934 ∆ωρìς … κόρα ~ 651 Λάκαινα … κόρα) – just as in the first stasimon at 450 ‘the Dorian land’ was one destination imagined by the captive women. 943–4 Ἰ δαῖον … βούταν ~ 644–6 ἐν Ἴδα … ἀνηρ βούτας, cf. And. 280 (on this kenning see T.C.W. Stinton, Euripides and the Judgement of Paris (London, 1965) esp. 16 n. 2). [[93]] Most remarkable of all is the climax of epode and stasimon, 944–52, where Euripides draws on the powerful and no doubt well-remembered phrasing of Aeschylus, but elaborates it: 944ff. Ἑλέναν … Ἰ δαῖόν τε βούταν αἰνόπαριν … ἐπεί με γαίας ἐκ πατρίας ἀπώλεσεν ἐξῴκισέν τ᾽ οἴκων γάμος οὐ γάμος άλλ᾽ ἀλάστορός τις οἰζύς ἅν (i.e. Helen) μήτε κτλ. ~ Α. Ag. 1455–61 ίὼ παράνουςἙλένα μία τὰς πολλὰς τὰς πάνυ πολλὰς ψυχὰς ὀλέσασ᾽ ὑπὸ Τροίας … ἦ τις ἦν τότ᾽ ἐν δόμοις Ἔρις ἐρίδματος ἀνδρὸς οἰζύς. Euripides takes over from Aeschylus especially οἰζύς in the same terminal or ‘riddle’ (γρῖφος) position 949/1461; in the disposition of the sentence he echoes his (p.147) own recent And.103ff. Ἰλίῳ αἰπεινᾷ Πάρις οὐγάμον ἀλλάτιν᾽ ἄταν ἀγάγετ᾽ εὔναιαν ἐς ϑαλάμους Ἑλέναν, ἇς ἕνεκα κτλ.In 948 γάμος οὐ γάμος, beneath the primary reference to Paris' rape of Helen, there is a subsidiary implication: from the sexual happiness of marriage (919 πóσις ἐν ϑαλάμοις ἔκείτο, 926 ἐπιδέμνιος ὡς πέσοιμ᾽ ἐς εὐνάν, cf. Ale. 1059 ἐν ἄλλης δεμνίοις πίτνειν νέας, Hel. 1093 ἣΔίοισιν ἐν λέκτροις πίτνεις Ἥρα, Sthen. F 661.9 εύνῆς εἰς ὁμιλίαν πεσεῖν; 933 λέχη … φίλια ~ Supp. 55 φίλα ποιησαμένα λέκτρα πόσει), the captive women foresee only hateful, forcible concubinage, Tro. 203 λέκτροις πλαϑεΐσ᾽ Ἑλλάνων, 565–6, cf. Hec. 365–6.20 Last, two recurrent images help unify the stasimon but should not be pressed too hard for a wider significance. First, the sea is the route of the Greek attack 921, of the Chorus' voyage to slavery 937, 940, and of Helen's deprecated homecoming 950. The motif inescapably recalls the sea-crossing to captivity in the first stasimon at 444–7, 450, 455 and 481–3, and Paris' voyage to abduct Helen in the second at 634–5, but the play's very subject-matter makes their pervasiveness no less inevitable. The scene's location on the shore 36 serves to link the discovery of Polydorus' body in the surf 697ff., cf. 26–9 etc., with the delay to the Greeks' sailing until Polyxena is sacrificed to Achilles' ghost 35–9, 111–12, 338–40, etc., then 1289–91: but there is nothing in Hec. to compare in significance with the images of sea, ships and sailing which in Tro. mark Hecuba's preoccupation with her imminent voyage to captivity (see S.A. Barlow, Trojan Women (Warminster, 1986) 162 etc.). Second, repeated verbs of seeing give continuity: 921 the husband lies in bed after the merrymaking, literally and figuratively ‘no longer seeing the host from the sea that had [[94]] invaded Troy’; similarly 925 the wife gazes at her reflection as she goes unsuspectingly about the ordinary business of preparing for bed – but 936 she has seen that husband killed and 939 she looks back at her city as she begins the voyage to slavery. These four verbs are not meant to register shockingly altered perceptions, however.21 ‘Seeing’ is not a significant activity in the play: such occurrences as 45, 73,22 342 and 823 only vivify moments on- or off-stage, as 207, 412, 681, 689 and 808 are simply commonplace of pathos. The

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The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52 verbal play – and deeper implications – of Polymestor's loss of sight are separate in effect, both unequivocal at 1035, 1045, 1066, etc., and ironic, potentially 954, 968, 972, realised 1105. IV. 905–52: summary and general appreciation All the poetic resources of the stasimon considered above show that Euripides intended it to be forcibly suggestive rather than merely diverting narrative. The language in its different registers and phrasing, particularly (p.148) its epic and tragic reminiscences, mixes lighter with predominantly darker tones. Yet the meaning of the stasimon at this point of the play is perhaps expressed most strongly through the choice and sequence of what is described, dramatised or evoked. At the heart is the Chorus' vividly personal recollection of the night Troy fell, 914–42 antistrophe 1, strophe 2 and antistrophe 2.23 It is framed by their initial apostrophe of Troy in its fallen greatness, 905–13 strophe 1, and by their final imprecation upon Helen and Paris as cause, 943– 52 epode. This framing is made still plainer by the repetition of the πάτρις destroyed 905–12 and now lost to the Chorus 913, in the loss of the γῆ πατρία 947 and of home 948; the factual negatives of repeated ούκέτι 906, 913 are echoed in the imprecatory μήτε … πάλιν μήτε 950–2. Other devices ensure a momentum to counter the effect of framing, and therefore to achieve coherence before the climax of the epode. Some are positional. Strophe 1 begins with 905 σύ μέν, [[95]] ὦ πατρίς Ίλιάς, an apostrophe; strophe 2 begins with apparently antithetical 923 ἐγω δέ, but the Chorus are there contrasting their own actions with their husbands' immobility 916– 22, antistrophe 1. There is a more deliberate and poignant contrast in the wording which ends strophe 1 and antistrophe 1: 913 ούκέτι σ᾽ (SC. Ίλιάδα) ἐμβατεύσω and 922 (ναύταν ὅμιλον) Τροίαν Ίλιάδ᾽ ἐμβεβῶτα. The adjective τάλαινα begins both the last colon of strophe 1 at 913 (Troy: vocative) and of antistrophe 2 at 942 (self: appositional nominative). In strophe 1 the triple use of tmesis in 907, 910 and 911 – almost a tricolon in effect – assists by its rhythm the sense of progressive destruction: the cloud of enemies is succeeded by the razing of the towers and the firing of the ruins. The separations of preverb and verb become one by one longer, 907 by an enclitic pronoun, 910 by a noun, 911 by a whole phrase; gradual extension of the ruin is thus suggested. Assonance of harsh gutturals between the three clauses compounds the effect, again in crescendo: 907 κρύπτει, 910 κέκαρσαι, 911–13 (κατά) κηλῖδ᾽ οἰκτροτάταν κέχρωσαι. S.A. Barlow writes ‘these apt metaphors adequately introduce the detailed picture which follows without detracting from it; … continuity of style is preserved in the sensuous content both of the metaphors and the descriptive passages which come after them’.24 Metaphor is indeed sparser in the description; faint in 915–16 ὕ πνος … σκίδναται, strong only in the bold 924 πλόκαμον ἐρρυϑμιζόμαν. Sensuousness lies rather in the pictorial realism and is enhanced by the deliberate poeticism of 925 (the flashing mirrors) and the dramatic viva voce of the Greek cries 929–32. ‘Pathetic’ adjectives are few: in the emotional strophe 1, only οἰκτροτάταν in the climax of the (p.149) tricolon at 912, and the adjacent vocative τάλαινα in 913; in the description itself, only the self-referential τλάμων 935 and τάλαινα 942. Emotion is created and maintained rather by two other means. First, there are words of unequivocal charge, words of destruction, death and collapse: 906 ἀπόρϑήτων (… οὐκέτι), cf. 909 πέρσαν, 932 πέρσαντες, 909 δορὶ δὴ δορί, 910–12 κέκαρσαι … κατά δ᾽ αἰδάλου κηλῖδ᾽ οἰκτροτάταν κέχρωσαι, 914 ὠλλύμαν, 936 ϑανόντα, 942 ἀπεῖπον ἄλγει. These words, scattered throughout the first two strophic pairs, lead as inexorably to their literal consequence, the irreparable loss of homeland, in the epode, as to their victims' agonised response, the climactic curse of 950–2. [[96]] The prominence of the narrator as ‘first person’ is the second means of Page 6 of 11

The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52 continuous pathos. It helps here to contrast the later ‘Iliupersis’ of Tro. 51–67, where the narrator's direct participation is small (551–4) and her personal suffering expressed in a single ὀλόμαν (517, cf. Hec. 914 ὠλλύμαν). There is heavier reliance than in Hec. on explicit words of pain and destruction: 535 Δαρδάνιος ἄτα, 542 πόνος, 555 φοίνιος, 559 ἐπτοημέναι, 562 σφαγαί, 564 καράτομος ἐρημία, 567 πένϑος. Euripides paces emotion similarly in Hec. 905ff. and Tro. 51 Iff. He lingers on the details of misplaced relief inside Troy. In Tro. young and old celebrate the Horse's reception with noisy song and dance into a firelit night 522–55 (extending over half the stasimon), before violence erupts in ‘bloody shouting’ 555ff. In Hec. there is the same sudden change from happiness when, in the quiet of the night after the music 914–19, the Greeks' cries break in upon the ordinary if intimate scene 923–6: the husband lying in the bed waiting, spear laid aside: the feminine attention to the hair, conveyed in the elaborate wording.25 All the prettiness and calm of this scene are calculated for maximal contrast with the sudden turmoil which destroys them – the terrified and useless flight to Artemis, and the husband killed in the bedroom 933–9. That horror is described briefly because Euripides has put the big, harsh details of Troy's sack in the initial strophe and followed them at once with the anguish of happiness destroyed for ever, 913 οὐκέτι σ᾽ ἐμβατεύω, ‘no longer shall I walk in you’, with that frequent ease and possession like a god's.26 Euripides moves quickly from that brief horror to the lasting bitterness, and the curse, which occupy the stasimon's end. The whole succession of intensely pictorial moments is controlled by an essential singleness of feeling: city, husband and home all lost 904–42, 946–8, with only embittered curses remaining for those responsible, Paris and Helen 943–52. In this feeling of loss the whole song enlarges both upon the final stanza of the first stasimon 475–83 and particularly upon the second stasimon 629–57, while maintaining the Chorus' self-absorption in their (p.150) own suffering27 which excludes any reference to Hecuba. The Chorus' vision in all three stasima is nevertheless wide, embracing both Troy and Greece. The second stasimon ends with Spartan brides and wives in mourning 650–7, which like Trojan disaster and grief 629–30, 649 is explicitly the consequence of Trojan Paris' folly 631–46. The same idea, now in powerfully allusive Aeschylean language, concludes the third stasimon 943–52 and may justly be read as the climax to all three. It's meaning for the whole play rests both upon the links in theme between all three stasima and upon their placing in the action. The past, present and future suffering of Troy, of its women collectively and of Hecuba, her son Polydorus and her daughter Polyxena individually, as well as Agamemnon's qualm in endorsing Hecuba's revenge upon Polymestor, and the revenge itself,28 all stand as tragic outcome of Paris' Judgement and Rape, the familiar ἀρχὴ κακῶν: 948–9 γαμὸς οὐ γάμος ἀλλ᾽ ἀλάστορος οἰζύς, wording which recalls Hecuba's cry after finding Polydorus murdered, 686–7 ἐξ ἀλάστορος ἀρτιμαϑής κακῶν and the Chorus' response 688 ἔγνως γὰρ ἄτην παιδός; This dire and relentless retribution extends to all involved in Troy. The Chorus themselves here imprecate revenge.29 Their imprecation comes between the establishment of Polymestor's treachery, and Hecuba's hideous vengeance upon him. The concomitance of the Chorus' and Hecuba's desires, provoke by experiences both similar and extremely different, makes this stasimon important to the play's meaning.

Notes This paper was incidental to my translation of and commentary on Hecuba (Warminster, 1990). In the original publication it bore the dedication Hermanno VAN LOOY de studiis Euripideis optime merito χαριστήριον. Van Looy died soon after completing the ‘Budé’ edition of Euripides' Fragments (jointly with F. Jouan, 1998–2003); I make a further small dedication to his memory in

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The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52 my note ‘Euripides, Cresphontes F 456 TrGF (= Cresphontes Fr. 4 Jouan–Van Looy)’; to be published in L Antiquité Classique 75 (2006). (p.153)

Endnote 2006 [nn. 1, 2 and 4] The fullest subsequent assessments of the three stasima in their combined effect have been by J. Mossman, Wild Justice (Oxford, 1995) 79–92, as part of her discussion of the entire role of the chorus (69–93), and (p.154) by J. Gregory in her edition and commentary (Atlanta, 1999) 97–103, 122–6, 153–60. For discussion esp. of 905–52 see M. Hose, Studien zum Chor bei Euripides II (Stuttgart, 1990) 67 (the Chorus' emembered change from happiness to bitter foreboding is a parallel to Hecuba's own passage); W. Thalmann, Cl Ant 12 (1993) 131–5 (linking the third stasimon with the second ‘he sensibility of the Trojan women’, 133); C. Segal, in various earlier articles revised in Euripides and the Poetics of Sorrow (Durham NC, 1993) 173–4 (segal sees 905–52 as a further, general eroticisation of war's violence, after the particular eroticism of Polyxena's sacrifice, 558– 65; Segal compares the bedroom-scenes of Hom. Il. 22.469–72 [Andromache throws away her bridal veil] and Od. 8.523–29 [bride and slain husband]) with 217 (Segal notes how the Chorus' wish for Helen's bitter return to Greece, 950–2, recalls its earlier evocation of her safely crossing to Troy as bride, 634–5, and contrasts with its own bitter crossing into slavery, 937–41); P.T. Keyser, ‘Agonizing Hekabe’, Colby Quarterly 33 (1997) 128–61 at 154. [p. 146, on 934, ‘orian girl’] For the contemporary resonance see L. Battezzato, ‘Dorian dress in Greek Tragedy’, ICS 24/25 (1999–2000) 343–62, at 361. Notes: (1) . A.N. Michelini, Euripides and the Tragic Tradition (Wisconsin, 1987), 330–3 (Appendix C ‘The lyrics in Hekabe’) offers one of the very few collective assessments of the stasima in Hecuba; it is noteworthy that the author detaches this essay from her chapter on the play, pp. 131–80, as if signalling their separate effect and meaning. The appreciation by G. Gellie, ‘Hecuba and tragedy’, Antichthon 14 (1980) 42–4, is similarly located at the end of his paper. The other recent major discussions of Hecuba have only brief comments on the stasima: M. Nussbaum, The Fragility of Goodness (Cambridge, 1986) 397–421 and 504–11; D. Kovacs, The Heroic Muse (Johns Hopkins, 1987) 78–114 and 138–47. (2) . Michelini 331 endorses the observation by V.J. Rosivach, ‘The first stasimon of the Hecuba 444ff.’, AJP 96 (1975) 349–62, esp. 354–7, that the Chorus' hopes are founded in error: in slavery the maidenhood necessary to dance in honour of Delian Artemis would be impossible; participation in the Panathenaea was barred to slaves. Michelini sees the stasimon as diverting Polyxena's vision of slavery as subjection 357–67 by fantasising it in a ‘prettified travelogue’. Gellie 42 and Kovacs 95 write of romanticism. (3) . Michelini 331 reasonably remarks that the epode's sympathy for Greeks maintains the identification between Greeks and Trojans when they admired Polyxena's death 519, 553, 566, 572–82. I cannot agree with her argument that the theme of female beauty plays fitfully over the stasimon, recalling the ‘spectacular description of Polyxena's lovely body’ 558–60: Helen's beauty and the contest on Ida are pictorially and allusively conventional. See also n. 25 below.

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The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52 (4) . Depreciatory judgements of this kind by e.g. T.B.L. Webster, The Tragedies of Euripides (London, 1967) 284, cf. 121–3; Gellie 43–4; R.G. Buxton, Persuasion in Greek Tragedy (Cambridge, 1982) 181 ‘the breath and painterly skill of passages such as these (905ff.) … makes the relentless drive of the dialogue scenes tolerable’. More serious views of this stasimon in its contribution to the whole play by e.g. G.M.A. Grube, The Drama of Euripides (London, 1941) 225; H.D.F. Kitto, Greek Tragedy (London, 19502) 219–20 (closest to the view argued in this paper); D.J. Conacher, Euripidean Drama (Toronto, 1967) 164; H.W. Nordheimer, Die Chorlieder des Euripides (Frankfurt, 1980) 24–5. (5) . Especially in 806–23, on which see most recently D.J. Conacher, AJP 102 (1981) 20–1 (a paper on ‘Rhetoric and relevance in Euripidean drama’); Buxton 178ff.; Kovacs 101ff.; Michelini 149ff.; M. Heath, The Poetics of Greek Tragedy (London, 1978) 147f. (6) . Griechische Verskunst (Berlin, 1921) 547f., where Wilamowitz upheld particularly the coordination in 916–7 of prepositional with participial phrases: cf. 346–7, 1197–8 (both in dialogue trimeters) and further examples given by J. Diggle, CQ 22 (1972) 242. Editors' disagreements are small and mostly in matters of colometry, especially in the epode at 946–7. To be persuaded by Diggle's constitution of these two verses (946 γαίας for ms. γᾶς, with colon-end after it; 947 πατρίας Dindorf for ms. πατρώιας and retention of ἀπώλεσεν with brevis in fine), one needs to study, in sequence, Diggle's OCT apparatus in conjunction with the Appendix colometricus of S. Daitz' ‘Teubner’ Hecuba (1971); Wilamowitz 548; T.C.W. Stinton, BICS (1975) 91; M.L. West, Greek Metre (Oxford, 1982) 134; and Diggle's review of West, CR 34 (1984) 70. (7) . I collect the most important details in section III. (8) . For variations in dactylo-epitritic see esp. West (n. 6) 132–4; for analyses of the stasimon esp. Wilamowitz (also n. 6) and A.M. Dale, BICS Suppl. 21.1 (1971) 74f. (9) . T.B.L. Webster, The Greek Chorus (London, 1970) 208. (10) . W. Kranz, Stasimon (Berlin, 1933) 254ff. (11) . The fullest stylistic and technical study of these stasima is by O. Panagl, Die ‘dithyrambischen Chorlieder’ des Euripides (Wien, 1971); he analyses Hec. 905–52 on pp. 7–41. (12) . In ‘regular’ stasima see also the dactylo-epitritic strophic pair describing Troy's fall at And. 1009–27, and the reflective rather than narrative Tro. 799–859. Possibly an imitator of Euripides composed the ‘Iliupersis’ TrGF adesp. 644.20–43, in anapaests. (13) . See e.g. commentators on Ar. Ran. 1261–363, Arist. Poet. 1459b31–60a5; P. Maas, Greek Metre tr. H. Lloyd-Jones (Oxford, 1957) §§33–7; W. Kraus, Strophengestaltung in der griechischen Tragödie (Wien, 1957) 35–9; C.O. Brink, Horace on Poetry (Cambridge, 1971) 160ff. (on A.P. 73–85); D. Russell, Criticism in Antiquity (London, 1981) 154f., 201 (on ‘Proclus’ ap. Phot. Bibl. cod. 239); Heath (n. 5 above) 32–3. (14) . For these Epic references see section III. (15) . The ancient scholia on 905–52 and Tro. 511–67 in Schwartz' edition make no comment on metrical ethos. Such comment is absent from the examples of scholiasts' ‘literary appreciation’ collected by Heath (n. 5 above) 32 n. 38; cf. now his BICS 34 (1987) 42.

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The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52 (16) . Syntactical enjambement between strophe and antistrophe is also rare in Euripides: El. 157, Supp. 48, perhaps Hipp. 130; cf. Rhes. 351. (17) . The Lyric Metres of Greek Drama (Cambridge, 19682) 214. (18) . O. Panagl, WS 6 (1972) 5–18. (19) . ‘Helen's toilet’: there are interesting references to Greek vases, Etruscan mirrors and modern depictions in M.R. Scherer, The Legends of Troy (London, 19642) 118f. H. Bacon, Barbarians in Greek Tragedy (New Haven, 1961) 123–6 also links the feminine scene with vasepainting. (20) . The complex interlocking of interrupted sentence structure and ideas in 936–52 is analysed by W. Biehl, Hermes 113 (1985) 260–3. (21) . Suggested to me by Dr. Christopher Gill, who asked also whether the implication of ‘endless looking’ in 925 might ironise what soon was to be seen as at an utter end, Troy itself, 939, cf. 906, 932. (22) . 73 Hecuba' dream-vision. I ignore 76–7, 90, rightly deleted by many editors including Diggle in his OCT. (23) . For many readers the ‘delicacy’ or ‘beauty’ of this description appears to cause them to discount the rest of the stasimon entirely. (24) . The Imagery of Euripides (London, 19711; Bristol, 19862) 112. (25) . See section III for the unmistakable sexual nuance, esp. of 926, 933. For Michelini 331–3 the bedroom scene, with the womans ‘complacent beauty’ and pathos, the ‘loose sexuality’ evoked by the scantily clad Dorian girl 933 (cf. the notorious And. 595–600) and the supplication of Artemis ‘goddess of asexuality’, relate to the sexual themes she finds so prominent in the play; these ‘vibrate between the grim and sordid images of slavery and the glamorous and sentimental picture of Polyxena's death’. These connections, even if real, are too fragile to support the larger interpretation Michelini wishes from them, particularly in her pp. 158–70, an interesting excursus on ‘Polyxena's death scene’. For the meaning of Polyxena's behaviour, and her nudity, in 546–70 see rather N. Loraux, Façons tragiques de tuer une femme (Paris, 1985) esp. 91–7 (= Tragic Ways of Killing a Woman (Harvard, 1987) esp. 56–61). (26) . For ἐμβατεύειν of frequenting gods see A. Fers. 449, S. OT679 etc.; of persons E. El. 595, 1251 (πόλιν). (27) . Described as ‘solipsism’ by Nussbaum (n. 1 above) 510 n. 45. (28) . One might add, Polymestor's prophecy of transformation for Hecuba 1259ff., and of death for Cassandra 1275 and for Agamemnon, killed by his wife 1277ff (29) . Nussbaum (n. 27 above) goes too far in writing of their ‘obsession’ with the idea of revenge: 945, 950–2 is their single and therefore more telling imprecation.

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The Stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52

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A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries)

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0011

Abstract and Keywords A project of 1971 not reluctantly abandoned by the author, not least because of the introduction of computerised technology to dictionary-making; an Index Verborum to Euripides was published in 2005, like many recent such works for other ancient authors. This rewritten paper nevertheless debates the need, and particularly the basis and form, of the still desirable full lexicon to the poet, rather than a concordance or a plain index. Much information is given incidentally upon the history and development of specialist dictionaries for all Classical authors. Keywords:   Euripides, specialist dictionaries, methodology

BICS 18 (1971) 134–43 with a ‘Sequel’ 19 (1972) 141, incorporated here Preliminary note 2006 I have to state at the outset that I shall no longer be able to compile a Lexicon myself. When I made the ‘Proposal’ more than thirty years ago, I was expecting to turn to the work quite soon (and indeed started collecting material); but two things quickly delayed me and in the end other factors stopped me entirely. First, almost at once I learned that James Diggle was to prepare a new OCT of Euripides and it became sensible to wait until its completed publication in order to use it as the base-text (see § III (i) below); its final volume came out in 1994. Second, almost at the same time in the early 1970s Richard Kannicht began work on the Euripides volume of Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, and it was similarly sensible to wait for its appearance; its publication came in 2004. With the commitments I have until at least the year 2009, I cannot foresee myself enjoying enough years to make even a start on a Lexicon. Furthermore, 2005 saw the publication of G. Rigo's Euripide. Opera et fragmenta omnia. Index Verborum. Listes de frèquence (Liège); I comment on this work below. I have nevertheless kept the article largely as it was in 1971/2, except in two respects. First, I have made reductions, deletions of matter no longer relevant, corrections, and updatings; and the Notes and Bibliography have been revised and updated. Second, I have removed or adjusted Page 1 of 11

A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) all original (p.156) ‘first-person’ references which may imply that I shall be able to compile the Lexicon myself, in favour of impersonal suggestions. I. The need for the Lexicon The most obvious and strongest objection to my proposal is the existence of the Allen–Italie Concordance (completed 1948, published 1954, reprinted 1970) and my own Supplement (completed 1969, published 1971). Before I argue the inadequacy of both these works as specialist dictionaries, even within their limited purpose as nominal concordances, and comment in passing on Rigo's Index verborum, two points are worth making. First, since scholars are generally reluctant to give details of work on which they are engaged until publication is imminent, anyone contemplating a Euripides Lexicon will sensibly save a ridiculous waste of effort by trying to find out in advance whether such a work has begun or is being planned elsewhere.1 A terrible example of this kind of waste is close at hand: users of Allen–Italie will know from its Preface that when Allen had completed several hundred pages of manuscript, Italie ‘announced that he had finished after thirteen years the collecting of material for a lexicon’.2 Second, there has been surprising duplication, even multiplication, of specialist dictionaries to single authors in recent years, for which the ease of photographic reprinting of older works is only partly responsible. Classical scholarship may desire to have available at any one time Index, Concordance and Lexicon to an author, but I am not sure that it can afford to have its own resources and publishers' goodwill squandered on haphazard [[135]] duplication of specialist dictionaries, particularly when some of them seem to be produced with little thought for the need (if any) they are there to meet and the way they are to meet it.3 I have therefore to prove the need of a Lexicon to stand beside the Allen–Italie Concordance. Apart from the essential and functional difference between lexicon and concordance, a matter I touch on briefly in § II.A below, Allen–Italie unfortunately has no good claim to a lasting place as a comprehensive or reliable work of reference. The peculiar circumstances of its protracted composition described in the Preface and Editorial Note, with Allen and Italie eventually combining under the editorship of Allen material they had prepared independently and on differing principles, were enough to prevent uniformity and consistency. Reviewers4 gave a proper welcome to the first serviceable modern dictionary to Euripides but rightly noted the work's major faults: contextual discrepancies between lemmata because of the lack of a basic text; the deliberate rather than accidental incompleteness of some entries, for example for common nouns and (p.157) adjectives as well as some of the particles; the classification of most of the material morphologically rather than semantically; the simple fact that the work is not a true concordance because it omits the context for a very large number of references, nor yet a complete index verborum. On these major counts, then, Allen–Italie fails the stern but not unfair test modern scholarship makes of its fundamental tools.5 I need not repeat the catalogue of earlier essays in Euripidean lexicography made by Allen–Italie in their Preface,6 nor do I feel any special guilt at becoming one more aspirant who deplores the unsuccessful or abortive projects of his predecessors and finds that he must abandon his own. II. Form of the proposed Lexicon A. Briefly, and again, why a Lexicon rather than a full Concordance or Index? An index verborum is the minimal specialist dictionary, and the extent of the information it offers is dependent on the principles of classification, which are generally according to morphology. An index gives the Page 2 of 11

A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) line references of all words or forms, so recording the complete lexical or linguistic usage of an author in the barest terms – but the one essential objective of the work, a complete list of occurrences, can be achieved as well and en passant by a concordance or lexicon. A concordance goes beyond an index in offering, ideally, a reference to every occurrence of a word and a quotation of its minimally significant context, syntactic, semantic and stylistic.7 Unless a concordance consistently solves the problem of ‘the minimum context’ – and for large authors consistent solution means unwieldy dictionaries – and additionally classifies entries under a main lemma according to some principle of semantics, morphology or usage, it often leaves the user not much less work to do for himself than a bare index, in that he still has to refer to the author's text (Allen–Italie is a particularly good illustration of this kind of weakness). The main demand to be made of a lexicon is that it should classify material semantically or, when more appropriate, syntactically; it should also double as a comprehensive index, but it does not have as an essential objective the quotation of the ‘meaningful’ context for every word's every occurrence. [[136]] These differential descriptions of index, concordance and lexicon are brief to the point of dogmatism and perhaps illusory: it cannot be accident that most specialist dictionaries are uneasy compromises between any two or even all three categories.8 The lexicon is perhaps the ideal, as its name implies, and there is certainly reason for the maker of one to provide, and the user to expect, rather more than I posit as its minimal content: my (p.158) proposals below will show what additional information can, I hope, be given without immoderate enlargement of a work. B. For a new work even the most benevolent publisher must relate the cost of production at least notionally to the possible sale, even if the advent of computer disks supplied by authors has altered the economics. Electronic publishing, perhaps by individuals, may offer the best future for specialist dictionaries, to be downloaded and turned into hardcopy at need and with permission. For practical reasons also of physical manageability I propose a Lexicon of modest size and pretension. In formulating my proposals I have been strongly influenced by the functional economy of J.E. Powell's remarkably informative Lexicon to Herodotus (Cambridge, 1938), which in many ways seems to me the most successful of all specialist lexica yet produced; I am encouraged by the critical welcome accorded W.J. Slater's Lexicon to Pindar (Berlin, 1969), which acknowledges a similar debt to Powell, e.g. by D. E. Gerber, Phoenix 24 (1970) 275f., W.M. Calder III, AmClassRev 1 (1971) 85; B. Snell, DLZ 91 (1970) 1038–9; general commendation, but reserve about incomplete information about prosody and metrical context, by F. Lasserre, AC 39 (1970) 206–9; see also the recognition of Powell by D. Barends, Lexicon Aeneium (Assen, 1969) 7. Every scholar will have his own idea of the minimal provision proper to a tragic lexicon but I think that the primary aims should be: (i) to present the whole range of every word's meaning and construction by careful but not over-nice classification, with adequate but not excessive illustration under each head; meanings will follow the arrangement of LSJ correctis corrigendis, but for particles that of Denniston;9 (ii) to combine this essentially lexical objective with a record of every occurrence of every word or name, the essential function of an index verborum; the only exceptions from comprehensive record would be the commonest particles like single καί, δέ etc., the article and some demonstratives, particularly when these words occur in frustulis

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A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) papyraceis; but no peculiarity of usage to be overlooked in the reduced entries for common particles or pronouns; (iii) to be ‘critical’, in noting significant ‘variant readings or readings to which there exists a variant’ (Powell, Herodotus viii), or important conjectures, or words suspected or known to be interpolations, optimally by quotation or, at worst, a system of diacritical signs;10 where important and impossible, to indicate the existence of textual uncertainty not only for the lemma word but also for others in its context affecting it or affected by it; (iv) to tabulate at the start of each entry for inflected words the forms used by Euripides, with minimal text-references or statistics: this is perhaps (p.159) the optimal solution to the problem of including morphological information in lemmata arranged semantically;11 (v) to list prepositional verbal compounds used by Euripides at the end of the entry for the forma simplex, even if the simplex is itself unattested in Euripides;12 such listing under the forma simplex to be extended where feasible to nouns and adjectives as well as verbs, and perhaps to include cognates; (vi) to distinguish by a supralinear symbol, e.g. a or 1, occurrences in ‘tragic’ anapaests or lyrics;13 too elaborate distinction between ‘lyric’ and e.g. ‘dactylic’ or ‘dochmiac’ may lead to textual clutter; (vii) to note significant metrical phenomena, such as consistencies or inconsistencies, or singularities, of prosody (e.g. of ‘position’), or regular location in the verse (e.g. at the end of a trimeter);14 (viii) for verbs, nouns and adjectives, to distinguish literal and metaphorical applications (where this is not already revealed by semantic classification), and to note instances where meaning is strongly modified by context or association, e.g. by hendiadys, constructio ‘apo koinou’, etc.;15 I think that secondary objectives, probably not all nor completely realisable, should be: [[137]] (ix) to note with appropriate signs words which on the literary evidence available are first recorded in Euripides or appear to be Euripidean neologisms, and perhaps also hapax legomena;16 (x) to give a limited amount of statistical information, in the form of counts for more common words and usages;17 (xi) to refer briefly to particularly important discussions of meaning, form or usage of individual words in scholia, ancient lexica and modern scholarship.18 III. Other methodological considerations (Paragraphs (i) to (iii) have been entirely rewritten in 2006.) (i) The problem of the ‘basic text’: since 1971 this has been solved for Euripides' complete plays by James Diggle's acclaimed replacement for Murray's OCT (3 vols, 1981– 1994), and for the fragmentary plays by the publication of Richard Kannicht's Vol. 5 of TrGF (2004). The latter eliminates a huge difficulty I had foreseen in 1971, for the fragmentary texts have been steadily increasing while remaining notoriously scattered and unevenly edited, ever since Nauck's revised edition of 1889. Together with authoritative new critical editions since 1977 for both the complete and the fragmentary plays of Aeschylus and Sophocles, and of tragic adespota, and the arrival or prospect of similar editions for Aristophanes and Menander, (p.160) the problem of the ‘basic text’ for lexicographers of Greek drama will soon have been resolved for many years to come.19 Page 4 of 11

A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) (ii) Bare text references should be arranged for the complete plays in the generally accepted chronological order represented in Diggle's OCT, since it is apparent that Euripides' vocabulary changed throughout his career, and arranged numerically for both fragmentary plays (effectively alphabetical for known plays) and unattributed fragments.20 (iii) The working method I sketched in 1971, to accommodate an antiquated OCT and scattered fragmentary texts, can be greatly simplified, given the existence now of exemplary editions to provide the ‘basic text’. It is however hard to know whether it will be more economical of effort to work from these against G. Rigo's computer-generated alphabetical word-list (2005) than against Allen–Italie and Supplement. [[138]] Whichever is done, it will be desirable to deal at the same time as the word in question with the others in the context essentially relevant to it, in the sense of attempting ‘critical’ consistency between the various lemmata; each word dealt with can then be ticked off in the OCT or TrGF, so that when the whole Lexicon is in finished draft, a visual check of the working texts will reveal omitted occurrences. These summary proposals for the form and composition of a Lexicon are I hope practical and achievable. The labour, not to say drudgery, involved in all lexicography (bad dictionaries are more frustrating than harmless, pace Johnson), must be minimised, but the undertaking will be lengthy. Hard experience may well induce abandonment of some of the objectives listed in § IIb; if so, it should be tolerantly understood by users.21 Notes (p.162) Select Bibliography Repertoria

Greek authors: H. and B. Riesenfeld, Repertorium Lexicographicum Graecum, (Stockholm, 1954). Latin authors: H. Quellet, Bibliographia Indicum, Lexicorum et Concordantiarum Auctorum Latinorum (Hildesheim, 1980). [[141]] History

Ancient lexicography: R. Tosi, P. Flury in Der Neue Pauly 7.123–8. Modern lexicography: K. Alpers, D. Krömer ibid. 15.1.126–49 (including 130–1 on Greek electronic lexicography, 141–2 on Latin). Both of these items have copious bibliography. Methodology

A. Lexicographers themselves Index W.A. Oldfather, ‘Suggestions for Guidance in the Preparation of a Critical Index Verborum for Latin and Greek Authors’, TAPA 68 (1937) 1–10 (see also n. 10 above). L. Brandwood, A WordIndex to Plato (Leeds, 1976) (interesting account of magnetic punch taping during preparation). J. Denooz, Lucius Annaeus Seneca. Tragoediae. Index Verborum. Relevés lexicaux et grammaticaux (Hildesheim, 1980). H.G. Edinger, Index analyticus Graecitatis Aeschyleae (Hildesheim, 1981). M. Campbell, An Index to Apollonius Rhodius (Hildesheim, 1983), Triphiodorus (1985), Arati Phaenomena (1988). V. Citti, E. Degani, G. Giangrande, An Index to the Anthologia Palatina (Amsterdam, 1985–90). J.H. Kühn, U. Fleischer, Index Hippocraticus

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A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) (Göttingen, 1986–9); Supplement (1999). G. Rigo, Sophocle. Opera et fragmenta omnia. Index verborum. Listes de fréquence (Liège, 1996); Eschyle etc. (1999); Euripide etc. (2005). Concordance R. Deferrari, I. Barry, R.P. McGuire, Preface to Concordance to Ovid (Washington, 1939). W.A. Oldfather, AJPh 63 (1942) 105–8 (review of R. Deferrari et al. Concordance to Ovid and … to Lucan). E. O'Neill, Introduction of Critical Concordance of the Tibullan Corpus (Ithaca, 1963). S. Govaerts, ‘A propos de deux concordances du corpus Tibullianum’, REL (p.167) (1965) 109–24. H. Holmboe, Concordance to Aeschylus' Persae (Copenhagen, 1971) and all the other plays, except Eumenides, separately (1971–3). K.H. Rengstorf etc., A Complete Concordance to Flavius Josephus (Leiden, 1977–83). G. Fatouros, T. Krischer, D. Najock, Concordantiae in Libanium Pars Prior. Epistulae, (Hildesheim, 1987). [[142]] ‘Index or concordance’ L. Delatte, ‘A propos d'une concordance’, AC 34 (1965) 534–41 (review of P. Grimal (ed.), L. Annaei Senecae operum moralium concordantia fasc. I, II (Paris, 1965)). P. Grimal, ‘Index et concordances’, REL 44 (1966) 108–16. L. Delatte, ‘Index ou concordance, réponse à M. Pierre Grimal’, AC 37 (1968) 192–204 (cf. Revue (1967) 3.97–121). Lexicon F. Ellendt, H. Genthe, Lexicon Sophocleum (Berlin, 18722) ‘Praefatio auctoris’. J.E. Powell, Introduction to Lexicon to Herodotus (Cambridge, 1938). G. Italie, Praefatio to Index Aeschyleus (Leiden, 19551, 19642). W.J. Slater, Introduction to Lexicon to Pindar (Berlin, 1969). M. Hofinger, Lexicon Hesiodeum (Leiden, 1973–8). J. O'Sullivan, An Index to Achilles Tatius (Berlin, 1980). D. Gerber, Lexicon in Bacchylidem (Hildesheim, 1984). F. Vian, E. Battegay, Lexique de Quintus de Smyrne (Paris, 1984). G. Pompella, Lexicon Menandreum (Hildesheim, 1996). B. critics, users Index E. Fraenkel, Gnomon 9 (1933) 615–16 (review of O. Todd, Index Aristophaneus (Cambridge, Mass., 1932)). U. Knoche, Gnomon 24 (1952) 331–7 (review of L. Kelling, A. Siskin, Index Verborum Juvenalis (Chapel Hill, 1951). B. Snell, Gnomon 28 (1956) 102–5 (review of G. Italie, Index Aeschyleus (Leiden, 1955) and of Allen–Italie). B. Zimmermann, MH 55 (1998) 221 and S. Byl, AC 67 (1998) 318 (reviews of G. Rigo, Sophocle … Index verborum. Listes de fréquence (Liège, 1996)). Concordance J.P. Cooke, CPh 41 (1946) 115–17 (review of R.J. Deferrari, M.C. Eagan, Concordance to Statius (Brookland, 1943). A.D. Leeman, Mnem. 34 (1981) 174–5 (review of V.P. McCarren, A Critical Concordance to Catullus (Leiden, 1977)). C. Collard, JHS 100 (1980) 220 (review of M. McDonald, A Semilemmatized Concordance to Euripides' ‘Alcestis’ (Irvine, TLG Publications, 1977). (p.168) Lexicon

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A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) H. Drexler, Gnomon 2 (1926) 255–63 (review of G. Lodge, Lexicon Plautinum I (A–L) (Leipzig, 1904–24). L. Radermacher, Gnomon 14 (1938) 294–7 (review of J.E. Powell, Lexicon to Herodotus (Cambridge, 1938). M. Napolitano, RPL 20 (1997) 222–7 and R. Nünlist, MH 55 (1998) 223–4 (reviews of G. Pompella, Lexicon Menandreum (Hildesheim, 1996)). F. Vian, RPhil 55 (1981) 348– 50 and K. Plepelits, Gnomon 56 (1984) 270–1 (reviews of J. O'Sullivan, A Lexicon to Achilles Tatius (Berlin, 1980). [[1431]] Computers

In the 1971 original paper, I listed a few wide-ranging discussions, but I do not attempt to update it here, mentioning only the periodical Revue (1966–82) and all subsequent serial publications of the Laboratoire d'Analyse Statistique des Langues Anciennes, Centre Informatique de Philosophie et Lettres, Université de Liège, Belgium. Addendum to n. 19. Pompella (1996) has had the further misfortune of being quickly overtaken by A.G. Katsouris, Menandri Concordantiae. A Concordance to Menander (Hildesheim, 2004). Katsouris based his text both on Sandbach and PCG, with supplementary matter from C. Austin, Comicorum Graecorum Fragmenta in Papyris Reperta (Berlin and New York, 1972) and, for Menandrean words otherwise unattested in the plays and fragments, from S. Jaekel, Menandri Sententiae (Leipzig, 1964). The resulting volume is most successful, with the function chiefly of a concordance but intermittently also of index and lexicon, for its arrangement of lemmata is very sophisticated: primarily morphological, but occasionally also semantic; it picks out special idioms or applications, and takes account of syntactic variation. It is economically text-critical, through a system of symbols as well as the occasional naming of scholars. The extent of a quoted context is determined by thought, not mechanically. Verse-ends are marked but no other metrical information is given (in contrast to Pompella). Examples: the entry for the definite article has 65 pages, but it is classified under 22 usages; that for the particle δέ has 13 pages, in which a complete listing is followed by classification into 9 usages. The impersonal prefatory material, however, says nothing of the work's genesis. Notes: (1) . ‘Arbeitsvorhaben’ are of course published occasionally in Gnomon; individuals (or institutions) with websites may be publishing their intentions. (2) . Through the kindness of my friend Professor S.L. Radt of Groningen I was able to establish that Dr Italie's residual fiches (cf. n. 5) would be of very little use to a future lexicographer of Euripides. (3) . In 1971 I noted that booksellers offered for Horace, for example, a Concordance (L. Cooper, 2nd ed. 1961), Lexicon (D. Bo, 1965–6), Thesaurus (E. Staedler, 1962) and a reprinted Index (K. Zangemeister, 1869); it is perhaps ungenerous to criticize the admirable enterprise of Georg Olms's series Alpha–Omega (begun 1965; the 2000 Catalogue listed some 200 works), but by 1990 it was advertising a further Concordance to Horace (J.J.I. Eschegoyen). While the series offers specialist dictionaries of various kinds to very many authors who have so far lacked them, it overlaps a little with the publication of Concordances and Indices by the Liège Laboratoire d'Analyse Statistique des Langues Anciennes (see below, nn. 8 and 11, ‘Computers’ in the Bibliography). (4) . Principally: J.C. Kamerbeek, Mnem. 9 (1956) 164–5; G.A. Longman, JHS 76 (1956) 114–15; B. Snell, Gnomon (1956) 104–5. Reviews of my Supplement: K.H. Lee, Gnomon 46 (1974) 295–6; N.G. Wilson, CR 24 (1974) 128; W.M. Calder III,, CPh 70 (1975) 248–9. Nachträge to my Page 7 of 11

A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) Supplement were published by H. J. Mette, Lustrum 17 (1973–4) 25–6, 19 (1976) 74–8, and 23– 24 (1982); and by R. Kannicht, TrGF 5.2 (2004) 1036–43. (5) . It is worth remarking that Allen apparently began the work in 1905, and Italie his independent enterprise in 1925: see the Preface. [[139]] Reviewers rightly tempered their criticism of accidental omissions or incorrect references: the accuracy of the work is astonishing. For my own Supplement – to which my criticism must also apply, since for obvious reasons of convenience it was composed on the same principles – I drew on a manuscript of corrigenda and addenda written by Dr Italie on the basis of his own fiches before his death in 1956: it contained only some 500 items, while the Concordance has over 250,000. (6) . – except to note that the first Euripidean index, published in C.H. Beck's Leipzig 1788 (enlarged) reprint of Musgrave's 1778 edition, was made not by Beck himself as claimed on its title page and in almost all subsequent references, but by a now ‘lost’ scholar called Hesler; and to say that Allen–Italie's catalogue is to my knowledge complete except for one item: W. Berger, Specimen lexici Euripidei, quo adverbia percensentur quibus praepositionum more casus adiunguntur (Brandenberg, 1970). In 1971 I did not know that in the early 1890's Gilbert Murray had contemplated making a Euripides Lexicon preparatory to editing the poet for a proposed series of ‘Glasgow Critical Texts', and had sought the advice of Wilamowitz upon the projects. Murray's letter (in ancient Greek) was destroyed in the sack of Berlin in 1945, but Wilamowitz’ reply (also in Greek), including some basic advice upon lexical methodology, has survived in Oxford and was published in 1991: A. Bierl, W.M. Calder III, R. Fowler, The Prussian and the Poet. The Letters of Ulrich von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff to Gilbert Murray (1894–1930) (Hildesheim, 1991) 9–21, at 10 (translated on 14). In a later letter (p. 21), Wilamowitz gave firm advice about the importance of a critical lexicon, and upon the laborious practicalities of manual composition from slips. (7) . No methodological consideration causes more disagreement among makers and critics of concordances than the determination of ‘the meaningful context’. Most measure ‘significance’ by syntactic or semantic criteria, but none that I know of by stylistic (for this very difficult problem in the constitution of specialist dictionaries cf. e.g. L. Delatte, REL 45 (1967) 467); some, absurdly, decide the matter purely quantitatively, quoting the full verse for poets (e.g. R.J. Deferrari, I. Barry, R.P. McGuire, Ovid 1939) or a set number of surrounding words for prose writers (e.g. D.W. Packard, Livy 1969). Select material on this point: C.W.E. Miller, AJPh 38 (1917) 325f.; W.A. Oldfather, TAPA 68 (1937) 1 n. 2; L. Delatte, AC 34 (1965) 539f.; S. Govaerts, REL 43 (1965) 112f.; P. Grimal, REL 44 (1966) 112. (I think it unnecessary to update this note, for the implications of computer-generated indexes and concordances are covered elsewhere.) (8) . I cannot enlarge here on these distinctions, although it may be useful to students of the problems of specialist dictionaries if I append to this paper a basic bibliography relating to Greek and Latin literature: it cost me a good deal of time to run some of these items to earth and I know of no comparable list. This is still the state of things in 2006, it seems. I have nevertheless deleted a few of the items originally included, and added a few subsequent things of importance. With regard to the choice between index and concordance, however, there was an enjoyable and instructive Auseinandersetzung between P. Grimal and L. Delatte, both directing the preparation of works on Seneca, the first by conventional methods and the second in the Liège Computer Laboratory; see the Bibliography. I have not been able to find whether this

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A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) particular exchange continued. One more recent discussion of this issue: A.D. Leeman, Mnem. 34 (1981) 174–5, in a review of V.P. McCarren, A Critical Concordance to Catullus (Leiden, 1977). Reviewers of specialist dictionaries, incidentally, ought to read the remarks on their task by C.W.E. Miller, AJPh 38 (1917) 324f. and H. Drexler, Gnomon 2 (1926) 255f. (9) . For the obvious convenience to users in following the morphological, semantic or syntactic classification of a standard lexicon (LSJ, TLL or Georges – and now, of course, OLD), see e.g. W.A. Oldfather, TAPA 68 (1937) 4f. and 6; G. Italie, Index Aeschyleus viii; V. Citti, Index to the Anthologia Palatina; G. Fatouros, Libanius. Epistulae: fuller references in the Bibliography. (10) . The importance of the critical index verborum was established by the productive American school of specialist lexicography under its doyen W.A. Oldfather, who handily formulated the basic principles in TAPA 68 (1937) 1–10; see the first formulation in the Index Verborum quae in Senecae fabulis necnon in Octavia praetexta reperiuntur (1918) and the last in the Index Verborum in Ciceronis Rhetorica etc. (1964); a ready but not slavish debt to Oldfather is acknowledged in their excellent Index de Pline le Jeune by X. Jacques and J. van Ooteghem (1965) v. Insistence on critical nature for specialist dictionaries of all kinds by e.g. H. Drexler, Gnomon 2 (1926) 255f., U. Knoche, Gnomon 24 (1952) 332f. and E. O'Neill, Introduction to his Concordance to the Tibullan Corpus (1963); discussion of the extent of the critical element, particularly the risk of including excessive information, H. Haffter, Gnomon 18 (1942) 155–61 and J.P. Cooke, CPh 41 (1946) 115–17; systems of critical signs formulated by e.g. Oldfather and his school (see especially Index Verborum in Ciceronis Rhetorica etc. vii) and G. Bendz, Index Verborum Frontinianus (Lund, 1939) 4; M. Campbell, Lexicon to Apollonius Rhodius (Hildesheim, 1983) x; F. Vian, Lexique de Quintus de Smyrne (Paris, 1984); and a particular case in which the Lexicon serves as a disguised critical edition and (the compiler's words) ‘philological dissection’ of the author, J. O'Sullivan, Lexicon to Achilles Tatius, reviewed with a mixture of admiration and amazement by F. Vian, RPhil 55 (1981) 348–50 and K. Plepelits, Gnomon 56 (1984) 270–1; fuller references in the Bibliography. (11) . Again, see Powell, Herodotus vii; cf. Slater, Pindar and F. Hofinger, Lexicon Hesiodeum. Statistics of the most elaborate kind, now made possible by computer compilation, including not just absolute totals of occurrence but also distribution lists, are published for Aeschylus (1999), Sophocles (1996) and Euripides (2005) by G. Rigo in his Indexes: see however the critical remarks of B. Zimmermann, MH 55 (1998) 221, who thinks that such information can be readily extracted from databanks without the need of wasteful physical hardcopy (but S. Byl, AC 67 (1998) 318 takes the opposite view). Cf. also n. 17 below. (12) . G. Italie, Index Aeschyleus; cf. Powell, Herodotus, and Campbell, Apollonius Rhodius. Such information is not given by G. Rigo (see n. 11), nor by G. Pompella, Lexicon Menandreum (Hildesheim, 1996). [[140]] (13) . Cf. F. Ellendt & H. Genthe, Lexicon Sophocleum (Berlin, 18722) v; this important differentiation has not been made in any other Tragic dictionary – although the family Matthiae in their prolix Lexicon Euripideum (I.A–Γ: Leipzig, 1841; all published) had Ellendt's first edition (Berlin, 1834) as a model. Analogous is the distinction in dictionaries to prose authors between narrative and direct speech or quotation: see Powell, Herodotus – but earlier by e.g. A.A. Howard & C.N. Jackson, Index Verborum C. Suetoni Tranquilli (Cambridge, Mass., 1932). The distinction is made for verse by D. Gerber, Lexicon in Bacchylidem (Hildesheim, 1984); the distinction is not

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A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) made in the ‘Liège’ system followed by G. Rigo (see n. 11); G. Pompella (see n. 12) distinguishes between iambic trimeters, trochaic tetrameters and iambic tetrameters. (14) . This information may be given summarily (e.g. ‘-ā-; -ă- only at such-and-such a place’). G. Rigo (see n. 11) is unable to offer such information; both he and G. Pompella (n. 12) however give exhaustive detail about the position of every word in its ‘line’ (mechanically absurd for Tragic lyric). Pompella's metrical information is praised by R. Nünlist, MH 55 (1998) 223). To print a full record of every occurrence's metrical properties, as done initially in the monumental Lexikon des frühgriechischen Epos, is a luxurious counsel of perfection. (15) . It is difficult to estimate the page space this aim may require, but I suspect that it may not be much: commonplace or ‘dead’ metaphor need not be noted, and stylistic figures affecting word-sense are infrequent. But S.A. Barlow, The Imagery of Euripides (London, 1971) 96ff. shows that Euripides is perhaps not as guilty of metaphorical poverty as is conventionally alleged; cf. also E. Kurtz, Die bildliche Ausdrucksweise in den Tragödien des Euripides (Amsterdam, 1985). (16) . See Powell, Herodotus viii – but neither Slater, Pindar nor e.g. G. Italie, Index Aeschyleus offers this information, perhaps wisely: confidence about hapax legomena or first occurrences is seldom possible, since LSJ illustrate with increasing selectivity the later an author's date, and papyrus discoveries continually cause upset. As a matter of interest, J. Smereka, Studia Euripidea (Lwow, 1936–7: a work of incredible industry, incomplete and, regrettably, lacking an index) lists at I.154–72 585 Euripidean hapax legomena and at 172–236 1623 words first recorded in Euripides: 2208 words from a total vocabulary, excluding names, pronouns, prepositions, conjunctions and particles, of about 7860 (I.123–7) – but Smereka's material, despite its fulness, is on my testing neither exhaustive nor invariably reliable, and much has accrued to the Euripidean fragments since 1936. An extremely sophisticated categorisation of vocabulary, according to unique use or meaning, dialectic or poetic provenance and later revival, is made by M. Arnim, Index Verborum a Philone Byzantino in mechanicae syntaxis libris quarto quintoque adhibitorum (Leipzig, 1927). The arrival of TLG has made such information-searching easy; cf. n. 11 above. (17) . Exhaustive word-counts yield little useful information (W.A. Oldfather, TAPA 68 (1937) 8; cf. L. Radermacher's criticism of Powell's counts, Gnomon 14 (1938) 295), but it may be of significance to know the absolute and proportional number of the occurrences of particles, or of substantival against adjectival uses of adjectives (though this distinction is often difficult). (18) . So, e.g., G. Bendz, Index Verborum Frontinianus (cf. H. Haffter, Gnomon 18 (1942) 160) and P. McGlynn, Lexicon Terentianum (London, 1963–7); cf. Slater, Pindar vii – who nevertheless rightly rejects on grounds of potential elephantiasis the inclusion of references to standard grammars and etymological dictionaries. More recently, such information is offered by e.g. M. Hofinger, Lexicon Hesiodeum; J. O'sullivan, Lexicon to Achilles Tatius (a special case: see n. 10 above). (19) . I was surprised that for his Sophocles Index G. Rigo used the Budé text (1965–8, revised 1991–4), noting where it diverges from Lloyd-Jones and Wilson's OCT; that for his Aeschylus he adopted Murray's much criticised OCT (2nd ed. 1955), while taking account of Page's OCT of 1972 and West's Teubner of 1990; and that for his Euripides he used as his ‘basic text’ in the complete plays the nineteen separate volumes of the Teubner edition (1964–95), all by individual editors (see his Euripides (2005) VIII; for the fragments he was able to use TrGF Vol. 5). For his Lexicon Menandreum G. Pompella (n. 12) used Sandbach's OCT, but for fragments not included Page 10 of 11

A Proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides (with incidental remarks on the methodology of specialist dictionaries) there the outdated edition of Koerte (M. Napolitano, RPL 20 (1997) 222 n. 6 observed the unfortunate timing through which Pompella compiled his work before the publication of the Menander fragments in Vol. VI.2 of PCG): see my Addendum on p. 170. One extreme problem with the ‘basic text’ was solved pragmatically by J.H. Kühn, U. Fleischer, Index Hippocraticum (Göttingen, 1986–9): they had to depend on Littré's complete edition of the mid-19th century but incorporated text-critical material from many modern part-editions of the Corpus: see their Band I, p. ix. (20) . For chronological arrangement see e.g. E. Staedtler, Thesaurus Horatianus (1962); cf. H. Haffter, Gnomon 18 (1942) 157 and the arrangement by both genre and date in R.J. Deferrari et al., Ovid (1938). G. Rigo (nn. 11, 19) follows the generally accepted chronological order for Sophocles, as in the Budé edition; for Aeschylus he retains the now abandoned order which Murray used in his OCT; for Euripides he uses the alphabetical order by title followed by Allen– Italie. G. Pompella (n. 12 above) follows neither the order of his base text (Sandbach's OCT) nor an alphabetical one (nor does his Praefatio explain his order). (21) . I was much helped in the original paper by discussion with Prof. S.L. Radt (see n. 2 above), who included in his Vols 3 and 4 of TrGF supplementary indices verborum to Aeschylus and Sophocles, and by Dr M. Campbell (St. Andrews), who generously described and discussed with me by post his work on his subsequently published Indexes to Apollonius Rhodius (1983), Triphiodorus (1985) and Aratus (1988).

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Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus II (Oxford Classical Text, 1981) and Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford, 1981)

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus II (Oxford Classical Text, 1981) and Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford, 1981) Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0012

Abstract and Keywords Diggle has edited the acclaimed and now universally standard critical text of Euripides’ complete plays (see also 13) below for Tomus I 1984); Tomus III was published in 1994. The review assesses Diggle's re-appraisal of the manuscripts and secondary evidence, his critical methodology, and not least his widespread textual interventions, palmary emendations, powerful conjectures, and occasional ‘notes’ in his apparatus. Tomus II contains seven plays, six of which come to us only in the famous Laurentian manuscript (see 7) above); in Studies Diggle offer a learned philological commentary on selected passages from these plays. The review ends with some detailed comments and suggestions on the new edition. Keywords:   Euripides, Diggle, complete critical edition, textual notes

Classical Review 34 (1984) 9–15 The last complete critical edition of Euripides, by Murray (19021–19133), immediately became standard, and remained unthreatened by later collaborative enterprises, chiefly the Budé edition, two-thirds of which was published in the 1920s and was completed in 2004 (but which included four volumes of fragments), and the Teubner series begun in 1964 and completed in 1995. The years since Murray have brought a vast range of individual editions, commentaries and important textual, formal and dramatic studies of all kinds involving all drama, not just Euripides, so that the challenge to a fresh, single editor is as enormous as it will be rewarding, a stature as authoritative and lasting as Murray had; and Murray is the inevitable and only just comparison. Diggle has been demonstrating his abilities before the task, and the extent of his preparation, since he published in 1969 the first in a long series of formidably learned and acute papers on Euripides' text. As they appeared, one's expectation of the new edition steadily grew, in two chief ways: D. would re-examine thoroughly not only transmitted readings but also timehonoured emendations, and show many to have gone too long unquestioned; and he would produce a striking array of new suggestions. Now Studies offers six more sets of critical and

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Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus II (Oxford Classical Text, 1981) and Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford, 1981) interpretative notes on the plays in Text, often with fresh and arresting conjectures; and the edition itself includes still more conjectures, many of diagnostic or suggestive character and confined to the apparatus. (p.170) D. has issued his Volume II first, with the same six plays as Murray's, but in the order of original production as it is now generally agreed: Supp., El. (‘422–16 BC’ D., favouring it appears the metrical criteria rather than the supposedly referential) [[10]] Herc, (‘c.415’), Tro., IT, Ion. Five of the plays depend on the famous MS L as codex unieus : D., Praefatio v-vi briskly accepts Zuntz' argument of P's derivation, and duly reports P only where it shows its rare and always insignificant superiority; where it helps recover L's reading from later Triclinian alteration; and where its corrector p made changes or conjectures of merit. (It is not yet clear how far the preliminary reappraisal of p's annotations, in origin, date and quality, by O.L. Smith, Mnem. 35 (1982) 326–31, will endanger Zuntz' argument.) D. records Triclinius' three revisions of L under two sigla only, Tr1 for the generally authoritative first, made before P was copied, and Tr2 for both the second and third revisions, almost wholly independent and conjectural, from which D. reports only readings of consequence. This is a defensible method, although no space would have been lost in distinguishing Tr2 from Tr3; and the distinction would have been more accurate to the true condition of the codex unicus and to its guiding spirit. D.'s reports of L are sensibly economical, dispensing with numerous orthographic trivia and other consistent errors which he lists at Praefatio viii. Tro. is the one play here dependent upon more than one MS, principally P (L omits it), V, a distant brother of P, and Q, a hybrid of complex and still not surely determined derivation; Q was used sporadically by Murray, dismissed by the Budé editor, and rehabilitated by Turyn. D. reports these three MSS very fully – too fully, perhaps – because, one infers from Praefatio vii n. 6, he hopes it may be useful to others' discussion of their relationship; he there gives some slight ground for thinking Q, in its second half, not a descendant only of V (so Turyn), but contaminated with the P tradition. Other witnesses available to a complete editor for the first time are, for Tro., the C. 14 gnomologies gB and gE collated by K. Matthiessen in Hermes 93 (1965) and 94 (1966), which offer mostly corroborative evidence; and four papyri, PHamb 118 for IT 51–66 (textually negligible), POxy 2455 for hypoth. Tro. 1–6, PHeid 205 for Herc. 1092–9 (interesting variations; on 1094 see Bond's ed. rather than D.), and the puzzling PHib 179, which contains fragments of Herc. 136–3, 146–60 and 167–70 (see the discussions cited by D., Praefatio xii n. 15 and p. 175), but apparently also Herc. 238 in a quite different context from that afforded by MS L (see M.L. Cropp, ZPE 48 (1982) 67–73, who hazards that the papyrus represents an actor's selective conflation from Herc, and other plays; cf. Bond, ed. p. xxxv). (p.171) D.'s collation has been from photograph or facsimile, except through autopsy of much of L, of the Florentine part of P (which contains Herc, and El. of the six plays), and some of the papyri. Many editors remark that L still repays fresh collation, even after so much scrutiny (this is unquestionably true for Triclinius). There is little new gold for D.: El. 568 barely glisters; at 1271 D. is silent where others report φάσμα, not χάσμα; but in many disputed places D. contests a predecessor's collation, explicitly e.g. Ion 799 and 1591 and much more often implicitly e.g. Supp. 301, 716, El. 470, Herc. 131, 177, 614, 648 (all, Murray), Herc. 229 (Murray and Wecklein), 654 (Wecklein); compare also D. and Zuntz, Inquiry at e.g. El. 34, 142, 589, IT 1071. Now, some aspects of presentation. First, of the text, D. regrettably eschews paragraphing in long rhesis, although this is an aid to interpretation; and he does not indent lyric periods, only long cola run over to the next line. He uses no punctuation whatever where the syntax of one Page 2 of 8

Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus II (Oxford Classical Text, 1981) and Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford, 1981) dramatic voice is interrupted by another in both stichomythia (e.g. El. 674–81) and lyric (e.g. Supp. 807, 818, 1152): but the eye responds quicker and better to a dash or e.g. three points. Where D. marks lacuna with pointed brackets, he leaves them empty, although it is helpful especially in lyric to indicate the metrical shape of what is missed, both strophic (e.g. Supp. 995, El. 1154, Tro. 807) and above all astrophic (e.g. Herc. 920, IT 192, 203–4, Ion 178); but he [[11]] sometimes omits pointed brackets for notae personarum supplied by conjecture (e.g. Supp. 11 Elmsley, 947 p, Herc. 236 apogr. Par. et Flor., 583 Tyrwhitt, 888, 891, 899 etc. Tr2; contrast the scrupulous Supp. 1139–59, Ion 184–222). Second, of the admirable apparatus. D.'s sigla are very well designed to represent precisely and economically each stage of L's alterations by the first hand(s) and then Triclinius, in relation to its copy P. Indeed the whole apparatus is economical, for D. abbreviates Greek words to their final syllables, where only these differ between witnesses and conjectures, or to their initial letters, where word-order is in question; these abbreviations are always clear. So D. finds room to cite conjectures generously (e.g. six at Ion 1171, five at 739, 1106), particularly of a diagnostic nature (e.g. Supp. 968–9, 1026ff., El. 711f., IT 150, 225–6, 292–4, Ion 286); it is therefore disappointing to find him sometimes daggering his text but offering nothing whatever in the apparatus (e.g. Herc. 1288, Tro. 550, 1240, 1289 = 1295–7, IT 999 – he judges no remedy possible?). D. is meticulous in attributing to their first authors orthographic or minor corrections often passed over wholly by Murray and sometimes even by Wecklein; the number of such restitutions is great, a dozen or so in the first 700 lines of Herc. (145, 244, 330, 353, 377, 393, 508, 582, 629, 659, 664, 696). He (p.172) silently corrects innumerable false attributions of more significant corrections but he might note e.g. El 413 ἀφιγμένων first by Camper, 484 〈δίκαν〉 first by Murray, Herc. 95 〈ἔτ᾽ ἂν〉 first by Murray, 697 lacuna first by Tr2, IT 874 τὰ δ᾽ ἐπì τούτοις first by Platnauer; at IT 300 he gives ὥσθ᾽ Elmsley but Markland, Studies 8 and 79; on IT 779–8 see Sansone's apparatus, ed. Teubn. 1981. The apparatus occasionally omits reference to testimonia e.g. Herc. 348–9, 379, 583, 1276, IT 241, 535, Ion 162. D. often annotates places, especially corrections and conjectures, with one or two cogent parallels or concise exposition and argument (Supp. 303, 908, Herc. 458, Tro. 985, IT 447, Ion 502, 765, 1510 illustrate the range); a few passages, usually where interpolation is suspected, are analysed at greater length, but always pithily (e.g. Supp. 902–8, Herc. 1421, Ion 844–58); and sometimes D. cites another scholar's discussion, usually interpretative. Such usefulness and life in the apparatus are excellent, but in the very difficult judgement of what, whom and when to cite D. may seem eclectic and generous by turns: he refers rather a lot to Denniston, Particles, often for usages identified (by Denniston, admittedly) as regular (e.g. El. 1018, Tro. 474, IT 1222, 1478; contrast the more problematic Supp. 490, IT 697, 1334), but very seldom to other authorities (El. 997, 1299, Tro. 225, IT 1025–6, Ion 361 is an almost complete list). I am not sure why he cites the discussions of some general or individual phenomena he does, and not others, despite such classic references as to J.U. Powell at El. 883: see e.g. El 360, 659, 668, 815, Tro. 718, Ion 118. Most curious is his near self-effacement regarding his own often definitive discussions: such references as those at Supp. 926, 1114, Herc. 879 (where an appeal to 871 makes the immediate point), Ion 520, 1343 are rare. True, almost all D.'s published notes are accessible, at least in reference, if one has Studies always to hand and open (but how many readers will?); but if D. cites others' arguments, he could fairly and helpfully have signalled his own more often, especially where his name does not appear in the apparatus or he makes no comment there, both to places earlier than Studies (e.g. Supp. 478, El. 409, IT 15, Ion 1314–19) and most often to Studies itself (e.g. Supp. 58, 204, El. 1250, 1319, Herc. 220, Ion 790– 2). Readers of Text alone will not know that in Studies D. writes almost wholly explanatory notes on Supp. 78, 971–6, El. 216–7, Tro. 329–30, 456–7, IT 442–5, 1318–21, Ion 84–5, 638–9, 927–31.

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Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus II (Oxford Classical Text, 1981) and Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford, 1981) (A comment on Studies as a whole is convenient here. Very many of D.'s discussions of individual passages and cruces, in Studies and separate papers, rest on exhaustive collection and [[12]] exact analysis of linguistic and metrical phenomena. An Index helpfully assembles those in the book, but it is a pity that D. did not include in it references to his papers as well, (p.173) since their content, or importance, is often not obvious from their bare mention in Studies, e.g. on ϑύγατερ and ὦ ϑύγατερ in dialogue (Herc. 95), PCPhS 20 (1974) 4f.; ἰώ among anapaests (Ion 912), ibid. 23–4; divided resolution in lyric, ibid. 26; synizesis of ϑεός and ϑεά in trimeters (Ion 1343), ibid. 3l–6; ὑγραíνειν and ὑδραíνειν (El. 162), PCPhS 22 (1976) 42; plural ‘deaths’ of a single person (El. 484), ICS 2 (1977) 113. Studies itself contains some specially important discussions, e.g. of resolution before syncopated iambic metra, 18–21; combination of ὅδε and τíς/τις in Drama, 42–4 (cf. personal pronouns and τíς/τις 83–4); anapaestic metra ---⏑⏑, 45–6; repetition of identical word(-form)s in indignant questions, 50–1; hiatus, and brevis in longo, in anapaests, 95–7; stichomythia broken by a couplet, 109–11; parenthesis dividing syntactically coherent words, 115–16.) Text, Praefatio ends with an impressive list of acknowledgements, prominently to G.W. Bond for access to his Heracles before publication, which clearly produced much mutual advantage (see Studies, Preface, and Bond's Preface, p. vi; a good deal of Diggle's reasoning is to be found lodged in Bond's commentary). Conjectures came, among others, from C.W. Willink, M.L. West (some separately from his papers in BICS 27 (1980) and 28 (1981), it appears) and particularly D.L. Page, whose name is frequent in the apparatus, not only for conjectures published in his early career in Denniston's Electra, Platnauer's IT and Owen's Ion. The proofs passed the keen eye and judgement of R.D. Dawe. These participations add to the importance of the new edition (as Wilamowitz' did to Murray's), but there is a striking measure of D.'s own originality. Five of his six plays have been edited in the last few years: Supp., Collard 1975; Herc., Bond 1981; Tro., Biehl 1970 and Lee 1976; IT, Sansone 1981; Ion, Biehl 1979. Were one to add together, simply in number, the new conjectures made by all these editors, the total would likely not exceed that offered by D. in any one play-on average, about ten or more in the text, something over fifteen in the apparatus. Even larger is the number of older conjectures ignored by Murray which D. not only canvasses anew (e.g. Supp. 397 Ribbeck, 659 Reiske, Jacobs, El. 43–4 Kvičala, 96 Tucker, 447 Paley, Herc. 186 Paley, 862 Wakefield, IT 94 Gaisford, 120 Well, Ion 481 Herwerden) but as often prints (e.g. Supp. 76 Blaydes, 449 Nauck, 840 Jacobs, El. 138 and 209 Seidler, 460 Herwerden, Herc. 271 Hermann, 811 Wecklein, 1218 Blomfield, Tro. 150 Herwerden, 1180 Burges, IT 405 Valckenaer, 447 Hermann, Ion 221 Lindau, 300 and 404 Badham, 634 Dobree).

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Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus II (Oxford Classical Text, 1981) and Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford, 1981) In each play D.'s text differs from Murray's in over 100 places of substance (excluding also revisions of colometry, where D. is almost always persuasive) – about 120 in Herc., for example. D. is also far more ready with (p.174) square brackets and daggers: in IT, which looks the extreme, something over twice as many of the former, and nearly 40 instances against half a dozen or so of the latter (including spans of four whole lyric verses obelised at 1133–6, seven at 1144–52). The edition is so rich in reappraisal and fresh suggestion – it more than meets expectation–that a reviewer's necessarily selective comment is more grossly invidious than usual. To be fair at least to D.'s own conjectures, I list almost all those which are not primarily diagnostic under three heads, (1) palmary or almost certainly right, (2) possibly right or attractive, (3) unnecessary or wrong; an asterisk means ‘confined to apparatus’. Assiduous readers may like to test their judgement against mine as well as D.'s. (1) Supp. 566, 573, 811; El. 434, 498 (and other instances of σμικρός for μ-: see Studies 50 on Herc. 503), 659, 707, 1330; Herc. 384, 807, 1019; Tro. 218, 380, 1064, 1177; IT 832–3, 1126; Ion 355–6, 475, 520, 692, 711, 905, 1061*, 1131, 1530. (2) Supp. 830*, 905*, 969*, 1029*, 1089*, 1152*, 1153 φίλαν; El. 143* = 161*, 178*, 347, 401*, 484, 490*, 504, 657*, 1015, 1134*, 1152; Herc. 95, 226*, 363, 674, 738*, 947*, 1061–3, 1125*; Tro. 251*, 311* = 328*, 335, 540, 688*, 817–18; 7T248* (see D.'s P3] apparatus), 492*, 639*, 647*, 697*, 759*; Ion 118*, 178*, 355*, 578–81, 609, 695*, 743, 844–58, 907*, 1304*, 1316–17*, 1360*, 1490*, 1500*. (3) Supp. 348, 371, 380*, 599*, 659*, 699, 913*, 1092–3; El 59, 162* ές Τροίαν, 409*, 1060*; Herc. 189*, 878*, 1020*; Tro. 239*, 339*, 1012*, 1104*; IT 113–15*, 204, 580*, 803*, 874*, 1083*, 1203*; Ion 303*, 457*, 1171*, 1306*, 1357–62*, 1421*. Here is a brief but representative selection of other places where D. differs from Murray in printing a manuscript reading or conjecture, similarly categorised: (1) Supp. 27, 221, 733, 772; El. 192, 360, 460, 815, 919 L, 977; herc erc. 80, 168, 301, 679, 681, [1299–1300]; Tro. 60, 201, 349–50, 381; IT 15, 45, 116–17, 515–16 Platnauer, 1371; Ion 237 Lloyd-Jones, 251, 361, 565, 1396 Broadhead. (2) Supp. 309, 557 Matthiae, 1228; El. 102, 308 Page, 619, 757; Herc. 72, 540; Tro. 256, [742–3], [1140]; IT 97–8, 105, 720, 1050–1 Koechly; Ion 598, 1232–4 Page (apparatus only). (3) Supp. 62 Murray, 80 (cf. on 72), 870 Lenting; El. [386–90], 776, 1107–8 (see Mastronarde, Contact etc. 91f.); Herc. 389 Hermann, 1091; Tro. 166, 397, 893, 1184; IT 306, 761, 804; Ion 525 Page, 721, 838. (p.175) A few notes on individual passages. For Supp. readers may follow the continuing exchange between D. (GRBS 14 (1973), esp. 252–63; CR 27 (1977), 5–6; Studies 1–31) and myself (ed. 1975, esp. 443–4, and my (1984) Teubner ed. – but D. has made me change my mind in about 20 places). Supp. 509 D. prints νεώς from L but has subsequently (Prometheus 7 (1981), 122) conjectured λεώς, cf. IT 1386 (see his apparatus): I still think the adj. νέος (Orelli) best. 1144 τέκνωι or τέκνοις D. in app.: if the line is sung by the Sons (see below on Tro. 591, 595), some such change must be made. El. 1: is the baffling ἄργος scribal slip (Herwerden, Haslam, Zuntz) or invasive gloss into e.g. ὦ 〈σχῆμα〉 γῆς παλαιόν [άργος], for which cf. And. 1? 59 is moved by D. to follow 56, where it is interruptive: better to keep it, or delete with Kirchhoff (ignored by D., approved by Bain, Actors 33 n. 3). 277: is neither πατρί (with τολμών) nor even πατρός possible? 459–63 = 471–5: I do not understand D.'s colometry (but see his later CP 34 (1984) 68); Dale, PICS Suppl. 21. 2, p. 97 Page 5 of 8

Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus II (Oxford Classical Text, 1981) and Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford, 1981) despairs here. 504: D.'s κακών with Dobree's ἀνέμνησεν is the best suggestion yet, but I am reluctant to separate τάμα from κακά when 505–6 give the alternative cause of sorrow, Ag.'s death and Or.'s exile, which one inevitably reads back into bare κακών. 518–44: extraordinarily, for an editor so prompt with square brackets, D. makes no reference to the long dispute over authenticity (latest assailant West, BICS 27 (1980) 17–21; latest defenders Basta Donzelli, ibid. 109–19 and Gellie, BICS 28 (1981) 41–I think, rightly). 657 τοιαύτηι D. (app.), ingeniously, but this makes a very forced point: τοσαῦτα? 682–98: D.'s text is the best yet, but since he cites Victorius in [689] he should mention κτανεῖν Seidler in [685]. 894–5: D.'s deletion leaves difficult asyndeton. 985: Denniston's προβήματος, cl. προβαίνω Alc. 263, seems reasonable; West's (BICS 27 (1980) 14) defence of προβλήματος, ‘first act of sacrifice’, cf. 803–4. is unconvincing, like his deletion of 987. 1015 κακῶς D. ICS 2 (1977) 119–21, taking γλώσσηι 1014 as Clyt.'s, καλώς L def. Cropp, LCMl (1982) 51–2, taking γλ. as her detractor's. 1045: Cropp, loc. cit., offers as good a solution as D.'s lacuna (also ICS), with τἀκείνου for πρὸς κείνου and ϑανεῖν Denniston in 1046. 1060: D.'s παρρησíας (app.; an early conjecture) was quite unnecessary; for the regular tautology ἀρχὴ…προοιμίου see Herc. 538, Pho. 1336 and cf. Med. 475, Tro. 712. 1263: D. adopts Tucker's bold ψήφου…ϑέσις (with Pierson's palmary έκ τούτου), but what is wrong with ψήφος (L)… θεῶν (Scaliger)? Cf. Or. 1650–2. Herc.; a review of the ‘Diggle-Bond’ text by Wilkins, LCM 7 (1982), 69–72, which I try not to duplicate; some excellent conjectures in Herc, by Cropp, CQ 29 (1979) 56–61 (Studies 120 notes the ‘attractiveness’ of Cropp's conjecture at 556–7; I think it superior). 136–7: whatever one's view of (p.176) PHib 179, Blomfield's τόνδε is neccesary. 203: ὁρμίζομαι is difficult outside a simile (contrast 1094), despite D.'s plea, and Bond suspects ἐκτύχης; D. should still cite τύχψ Rauchenstein and ώρμημένον (better ώρμώ -) Heath. 252–74: L's order of vv. is defended also by Bond and Cropp, ZPE 48 (1982) 73; altered and distributed to the chorus by West, BICS 28 (1981) 61. 531–2 also Mastronarde, Contact etc. 70f. 617: Matthiae creates an impossible ellipse of sense; D. should cite Jackson, Marginalia 148f.; cf. now Cropp, CQ. 811: obelised by D. in PCPhS (1974) 8; now he prints a palmary conjecture of Wecklein. 845: D. should mention Burges' ϑεοῖς. 862: οἰστὸς Wakefield should be in the text. 919–21: very uncertain doch-miacs (see West, Greek Metre, 114); D. prefers lacuna. Wilamowitz's ψυχάς gives sense; [[14]] does e.g. ϑεόϑεν κακὰ τάδ᾽ ἐπὶ μέλαϑρα give metre? 1151: a good diagnosis by Bond, but D. is stumped; τήνδε 〈-⏑〉 West, Phil. 117 (1973) 147: 〈τλήμον᾽〉? cf. τήν τάλαιναν Elmsley. Tro. 97: West, BICS 27 (1980) 15 writes δούς 〈κ〉αὐτὸς but neither this supplement nor Page's δούς 〈σφ᾽〉 is necessary: follow Blomfield. 237: Mistchenko's δή rescues the verse, deleted most recently by Reeve, GR BS 14 (1973) 151 and Stephanopoulos, Gnomon 52 (1980) 711. 535: θεᾶι (ed. Aldina) certainly, but the καὶ puzzles me: the ἂτα of Troy is the λόχος; no comma after Ἀργείων, making a chiastic gift? 545–7: D. demolishes ἀέριον at Studies 64f. but his ἂειρον, an unaugmented Epic imperfect, is not credible, and ἂμα for ἀνὰ looks like a subterfuge. 570: ‘εἰρεσίαιμαστῶν non intelleguntur’, D., disdaining Lee's ‘(nervous) heaving of the breasts’; a purely visual image, of a woman riding (569) over uneven ground? 591, 595: accepting Hermann's and Murray's distribution, D. creates a sequence I cannot find elsewhere in midamoibaion, of one voice both finishing one strophe and starting the next, except from D. himself at Supp. 1144, 1152; but one must otherwise accept inexact responsion of voices, for it is impossible to devise the sequence Hec. And. Hec. for 591–4. 640: see Lee, ad loc., against Bluck. 695: see Studies 66f. 703–4: the Aldine solution creates noteworthy enjambement. 721: West's λόγωι is likely right, in view of 723 λέξας. 862–3: the deletion is not straightforward (against 869–70 set 877!), and West's lacuna before καὶ στρ άτευμ᾽ Ἀχαηκόν attractive (BICS 27 (1980) 16). 1012 βρόχους L is right: Helen should have been found preparing suicide (so 1013 is Page 6 of 8

Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus II (Oxford Classical Text, 1981) and Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford, 1981) parallel), not achieving it. 1090 looks incurable: neither κατάρροος nor κατάρρυτος (see app.) is used of tears; Jackson's άμάτορα is impossible before Μᾶτερ 1091. 1197: D.'s στέγω is brilliant (Studies 72–4): cf. 384. 1118: D. rightly rejects, but should still cite, Munro's τε κοινοί widely accepted since Maguinness, BICS 12 (1965) (p.177) 27f. 1206: D. rightly daggers αὐτὸς, sometimes defended as ‘by himself’; αὖθις may just do, but we expect άεί somewhere (Barthold). IT 35–41: a similar but better solution by Stinton, JHS 97 (1977) 149–51. 157–61: see now D. Sansone, QUCC 30 (1979) 157–9 and D.'s rejoinder, QUСС 37 (1981) 161–2. 292: ταὐτὰ (voluit L) is best: the Herdsman reverts to what he saw himself, not what Or. imagined. I cannot believe D.'s εἱλίσσετο (app.). 294 is deleted by West, BICS 21 (1981) 62, but is protected by 299. 369: D. rightly defends Ἀχιλλεὺς against Haslam's clever ἐκεîνος (AJPh 98 (1977) 246) and would, no doubt, Ἅιδης against Marcovich's dagger (AJPh 101 (1980) 47–9). 482–4: Studies 81–3 for Kvičala and Hermann, but D. is wrong to prefer κτανεîν Seidler to L and Stob.'s θανεîν: the verbs of 488–9 must have the same subject as those of 484–6, namely the victim. Or. reverts to Iph. at 490. 580: μάλιστά γ᾽ is accepted by Denniston, Particles 120 and 153; if rightly, then Porson's ὧδε follows. 633: it is as hard to explain the origin of κατασβέσω as to replace it; if it must go, Gloel's καταρρανῶ is worth a thought. 679: the elision of σώιζεσθαι is accepted by West, Greek Metre, 10 n. 15. 740: Housman's ἀρχαîον is delusive, since fr. 1088 altogether lacks a context. 765: Bad-ham's ὁμοῡ is very likely: cf. Studies 39 on El. 784. 834: why not σὲ δ᾽ ἔτι ? 951: a personal object to τεκταίνομαι is remarkable; one would expect σιγήν. 952: Housman's ὀναίμην, even as ironic, is false before ἡδονήν 954, and the τε … τε is extraordinary. 1031–4: see also Mastronarde, Contact etc. 67 and West, BICS 28 (1981) 63. 1155 should be saved with Heim-soeth. 1320–1: see Studies 89–91. 1346 may be sound if ἐπτερωμένον describes the visual effect of lifted oars. 1352: optime Studies 92–3. 1386: why not τῆς (Pierson: γῆς L) ‘Ελλάδος ναῡται νεώς (L)? cf. 1345, and for the article Held. 839. Ion 168: for αἰάξεις, surely right, cf. IT 227. 286 Denniston, 498–500 Page, 783 Dawe: all fine conjectures. 300: Scaliger, yes; Badham, no: Zuntz, Inquiry etc. 90. 504–9: good colometry from D. 602: I would obelise the whole line. 743: Reiske's περιφερεî with Schoemann's ἐρεύνα, is still worth considering, despite Studies 104f. 936: Page saves also 937, the vital preparation for 939. 1275–8: deleted by D., with the agreement now of Bain. Masters etc. 35f.: a good defence by Owen, ad loc., with whom Mastronarde, Contact etc. 110–12 inclines to agree (cf. Studies 121). 1424: D. has rightly abandoned an early conjecture, ἀϑέσφαϑ ᾽; Owen canvasses A.Y. Campbell's ingenious ἔφησθα δ ᾽ ὡς. 1427: Porson may be too seductive, despite 21–2. Wilamowitz and Owen rightly associate πάγχρυσον (Wilamowitz) with δώρημα, and for ἀρχαῖον see 24–5; but is δράκοντέ γ᾽ better then δράκοντες (cf. οἵδε 1432)? (p.178) These books were long in the press: Studies, Preface, dated December 1978, refers to Text, Praefatio in the perfect tense; and Studies, Addenda p. 119 refers to the article by M. Sicherl in RhM 118 (1975) 205–25 which shows that the Aldine editor was not Musurus: in Text his name appears in the apparatus where now ‘ed. Aldina’ should. Studies is printed with typical Clarendon elegance and accuracy (but correct to ‘Tarrant’, p. 79 line 1; to ‘1188’, p. 54 n. 1). Text, however, has suffered both from nature (it was set in Greece, and the plates were disturbed in an earthquake: there [[15]] is fractured or partial printing at e.g. El. 514–16, Herc. 374–6; the lunate sigmas are often irritatingly misaligned; in some places inking is faint, especially of stops) and from error: correct to ωἰδᾶι El. 112 (app.), δ᾽ El. 695 and Tro. 376, ἐμόχϑησεν Here. 226, (app.– unless D.'s collation genuinely differs here), δαίμων IT 202, τλάμων 210, ξίφει 1173, ἔπτηξεν Ion 1280, and add ‘1020’ before φίλωι Supp. app. At Here. 886

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Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus II (Oxford Classical Text, 1981) and Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford, 1981) (ἔσωϑεν) is misleading, the app. silent: the stage-direction stems from Murray; compare 906 in both editions. I must attempt a general verdict. D.'s earlier papers (and reviews), and now the books themselves show that there is probably no one better equipped to succeed in re-editing all Euripides for our time. His text is not for the conservative, bred on Murray, nor the fainthearted, for he is forthright when he intervenes. Reading these six plays with him constantly taxes knowledge and sensitivity to Euripides' whole style, of word and stage, and often requires much thought to follow D.'s understanding of the poet's intention – above all, perhaps, when he reorders or excises lines. That is a proper demand upon a reader's alertness and decision, by an editor so scrupulous with evidence, so generous, and fair, with conjecture and argument. The new standard Euripides, then? Certainly; and so successful a beginning is a fine omen for the remaining plays, most of them with richer if tangled traditions and problems on a different scale, particularly of interpolation. Congratulation, and warm wishes for completion of the work, are very much in order.

Endnote 2006 [p. 170, on pp. v-vi of Tomus II] for the L: P relationship see the Endnote 2006 to no. 7 in this volume, p. 113–14. [p. 170] Diggle introduced the siglum Tr3 in his Tomus III (1994): see his Praefatio, p. v; and he adopted three points to mark the interruption of one speaker's syntax by another in his Tomus I, e.g. at Med. 679, Hipp. 310. [p. 170] PHib 179 is now F **953c in TrGF 5.2, where the editor R. Kannicht gives a full bibliography of discussions. (p.179) [p. 171] revised attributions of conjectures: in his Euripidea (Oxford, 1994) 518–23 Diggle listed very many such revisions for Tomi I and II, and included many conjectures newly identified by D. Sansone as original to F. Bothe in his 1800–3 translation of Euripides. [p. 173] Some of Diggle's papers noted in my discussion of Studies have been republished in his Euripidea (1994); so too some of those which I note on pp. 175–7. [p. 178] for Diggle's subsequent correction of ‘Musurus’ to ‘ed. Aldina’ in his apparatus see his Tomus I, Praefatio p.v n. 1. [p. 178] Diggle attached a list of printing errors in Tomus II (and in Tomus I) to his Tomus III (1994) 480–2. Significant other reviews of Tomus II were by W. Luppe, DLZ 104 (1983) 1051–3; D. Kovacs, AJPh 105 (1984) 236–41; P. Mason, JHS 104 (1984) 201–3; D. Sansone, CPh 79 (1984) 335–40, and of his whole edition by R.E. Renehan, ‘The Euripidean studies of James Diggle: a review article’, CPh 93 (1998) 161–91, 249–70

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Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus I (Oxford Classical Text, 1984)

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus I (Oxford Classical Text, 1984) Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0013

Abstract and Keywords The review has the same pattern as 12) above: first, description and assessment of Diggle's methodology; his technical excellence and individuality as editor and critic; second, the reviewer's detailed notes on the new edition. The volume contains two plays dependent solely upon the Laurentian manuscript; the other five have richer traditions, and ancient scholia, which together complicate an editor's work. Diggle has made many new findings in the manuscripts, and there were far more important earlier individual play-commentaries to digest than for Tomus I; Diggle's Praefatio includes an incisive judgemental survey of these landmarks. Keywords:   Euripides, Diggle, complete critical edition, textual notes

Classical Review 36 (1986) 17–24 This is a most impressive volume, deserving again the warm congratulation I offered in reviewing Diggle's Tomus II (CR 34 (1984) 9–15; above pp. 169–78). Comparison with Murray's Tomus I, which it again directly replaces, is less straightforward. First, five of the seven plays, Alc., Med., Hipp., And. and Hec. are ‘select’, or have scholia, only Cyc. and Hcld. belonging to the ‘alphabetical’ group; [[18]] it is in the ‘select’ plays that the greatest advances have been made in elucidating their manuscript tradition, principally by Turyn (1957), Barrett (1964), di Benedetto and Zuntz (1965), Matthiessen (various papers since 1965 and especially his monograph of 1974), Mastronarde and Bremer (1982) and, in recent papers, by D. himself. Second, almost all the plays have been edited or annotated critically, some after fresh collation of their MSS to produce new texts (Page's Medea, 1938; Barrett's Hippolytos, 1964; Daitz' Hecuba, 1971; Teubner editions also of Cyc., Alc., Hcld., And.), others in the ‘Clarendon’ Euripides on the basis of Murray's text (Dale's Alcestis, 1954; Stevens' Andromache, 1971) or Diggle's (Seaford's Cyclops, 1984). Before D. began his huge task in the ‘select’ plays, the ground had been laid for a much more comprehensive but also more accurately selective apparatus than Murray – or the Budé editors, for example – could offer.

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Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus I (Oxford Classical Text, 1984) D.'s due and generous acknowledgement of that comes midway (p. xi sq.) in a Praefatio as remarkable for its rich compression – eleven sides only, given that it is the Preface to a complete edition – as for its (p.181) vigorous and stylish Latinity. Six sides and twenty footnotes (pp. v– xi) review the landmarks in the textual criticism and interpretation of Euripides from 1494 (Lascaris' editio princeps of four plays) to the 1980s; judgements concise and pithy, admiring, tolerant and the harder side of firm by turns, abound. An English reviewer may fairly take note when an English editor records the extraordinary prominence of English scholarship in things Euripidean, and applaud the fact: from Barnes (1694) through the great years of the late 18th and early 19th centuries to Badham and Paley in the 1850s and in our own time since Murray; see M.L. Clarke, Greek Studies in England 1700–1830 (Cambridge, 1945) chs. v–vii, and, for appreciation in Germany, Wilamowitz, Herakles i.228–33 and Geschichte der Philologie (Leipzig, 1927, repr. 1959) 37–8 = History of Classical Scholarship, ed. H. Lloyd-Jones (London, 1982) 82– 5, and Kannicht, Helena i.119–21, 123. Of fourteen individual commentaries from the last fifty years named by D. (p. x), only one is from abroad, Kannicht's splendid Helena of 1969. Four sides and fifteen footnotes (pp. xi–xiv) set out the MSS D. employs, in their numbers and relationships for each group of plays or individual play, and document their modern reevaluation. D.'s collations have been very full, from published facsimiles, individual microfilms and, in some cases, autopsy. His own new findings have been published in journal articles almost simultaneously with the edition itself: for Alc. and And. (MS D derived from B after B's correction; B and O gemelli) in JHS 104 (1984) 165–9; for Med. (the complex relationships between OCDE and (H)BAV, and the occasional independent merit of OCDEF; the qualities of HnNv) in CQ 33 (1983) 339–57: for Hipp. (relationships of, and between, and the merits of, PvHnOxNNv) in CQ 33 (1983) 34–43; a promised further study of Triclinius in L, in Hcld., has still to appear (see Praefatio p. xii n. 26). Here is a brief sample of significant new readings revealed by D: in Alc. O at 71, 711, 909, Q at 1092; in And. O at 832, 833, N at 531, W at 86; in Med. O at 159, 1303, C at 182, 261, D at 926, 979, E at 261, 1201, Nv at 320, 752, 1005, 1132; in Hipp. Pv at 130, 144, 641, Hn at 144, 1070, Ox at 580, 641, 1070, N (scholia) at 245, 669, Nv at 87, 641. D. sets value in Hipp, on P, e.g. 18, 162, 294, where Barrett deliberately omitted it from his apparatus (see Barrett, 73). In Hec., however, D has himself collated only Z, for Matthiessen has most generously made available the collations taken for his definitive monograph on this play's tradition (Studien zur Textüberlieferung der Hekabe des E. (Heidelberg, 1974)). New evidence for the plays in this volume is found too in recently collated gnomologies and a few papyri, some still unpublished but made available to D., e.g. for Med. 725–9 and Hec. 756–9 POxy ined., for Hipp. 231, 245 [[19]] POxy 3152. Each ‘select’ (p.182) play is prefaced with a list of MSS, papyri and gnomologies used. The number of MSS is so large in Med., Hipp. and particularly Hec. that D. has cited them by means of collective symbols where the individualities of a horizontally contaminated tradition are not thus obscured (Matthiessen, Studien 121 cautioned against the use of the misleading abbreviations ‘rec.’ and ‘Byz.’ for MSS of saec. XIII–XVI); D. helpfully repeats lists and symbols above each page of apparatus. This procedure has been followed before in Euripides only by Barrett in Hipp.; Daitz did not use it for Hec.; it is not yet clear whether Mastronarde will follow it for his edition of Pho., which with Hec. and Or. forms the Byzantine ‘triad’, although in his recent monograph he sometimes refers to ‘groupings’ (The Textual Tradition of Euripides' Phoinissai (California U.P., 1982)). The Praefatio closes with a further, long list of D.'s papers devoted to textual and interpretative discussion of these seven plays (cf. Tomus II, ix). and acknowledgement of help from as wide a range again of individuals and institutions. For the user the most tangible of these contributions are the accuracy of the proof-reading and a scattering of original conjectures: Cyc. 93* F.J. Page 2 of 8

Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus I (Oxford Classical Text, 1984) Williams – attractive (throughout this review, an asterisk means ‘in the apparatus only’), 293 Seaford – right, 344* Seaford – possible, 376* Dawe – possible; Alc. 402–3* and 409–10 Willink – both possible, 542* Dawe – unlikely (IT 230 is compared but is similarly conjectural), 716* Dawe – unnecessary; Med. 1064* Dawe – unlikely; Hipp. 759 Willink – an awkward pronoun, 1375* Page – possible; And. 203 Dawe – probable, 364 Page – possible, 899* Dawe – probable; Hec. 192 Page – probable, 196 Page – very probable. The edition of the text has the same technical merits as in the earlier volume (I do not illustrate as fully as in CR 34 (1984) 11): (1) an apparatus both clear and economical while it is judiciously informative about detail, something much harder to achieve in the plays of richer tradition, Hecuba above all; (2) frequent correction of earlier collations, silently e.g. Cyc. 330, And. 86, explicitly e.g. Ale. 26, Hipp. 814–17, And. 427; (3) correction en passant of many mis-attributed conjectures, e.g. Cyc. 583, 588, Alc. 34, 487, Med. 634, and scrupulous record of orthographic corrections often omitted by Murray (in Cyc. alone e.g. 50, 104, 117, 129 etc. to a total of 18); (4) generous citation of conjectures, either curative or diagnostic; (5) helpful brief discussions of particular difficulties (e.g. Cyc. 635–41, Med. 738, Hcld. 169, Hipp. 664–8, And. 53, 321–3, 551, Hec. 154 sqq.); (6) occasional reference to comparable phenomena, linguistic or metrical, to published discussions, by D. himself or others, or to standard works. Under the last two heads D. is less generous than before, no doubt from pressure of space; (p.183) so it may be unreasonable to cavil about the inclusion of some references which seem of less consequence (e.g. to ICS 6 (1981) 87 at Hcld. 344 or to CQ 33 (1983) 353 at Hec. 464–5) than others passed over, e.g. those given in the last part of this review at Cyc. 63–81, Med. 12–13, 1223, Hec. 163. I am glad to see that sermo interruptus is now signalled by three points instead of typographic void (e.g. in trimeters Med. 679, Hcld. 736, Hipp. 351; in lyric Alc. 875, 892, 893). I still find it unhelpful that there is no paragraphing in long rhesis, and that angled brackets are left empty of metrical symbols where rhythm may be determined with probability (e.g. Cyc. 374, 513, Alc. 226, 468, 594); and disappointing that an obelised word, line or passage is sometimes left bare of all comment or conjecture (e.g. Cyc. 60, 170, Med. 856–7, And. 195, 469–70, 593). A distinctive feature of the earlier volume was the number of conjectures printed or cited which were not mentioned by Murray or seldom by editors of individual plays. From this volume I exemplify: Cyc. 44* Musgrave; 91 Jacobs: see D., CQ 21 (1971) 45; 480–2 seel, nescio-quis, Conradt: see Seaford ad loc.; 647 Blaydes (all but the last [[20]] mentioned by Biehl, ed. Teubn. 1983). Alc. 273 Monk; 574 Pierson: meretricious? the emphasis in 569 is on Admetus' οἶκος, where the god submitted to menial activity; and the assonance μηλονόμας … νόμοις is an unwelcome introduction; 780* Blaydes: certainly the best remedy if the Ionicism οἶδας must go; 839 Gaisford, 992 Prinz; very likely right; 1097 Lenting: excellent (none of these mentioned by Dale, ed. 1954). Med. 336 Wecklein: see D., CQ 34 (1984) 56–7; 1223 Lenting: the scholia indeed point this way (D., CQ 34 (1984) 60–1); 1269* Leo, Barthold: D. joins Murray in condemning the aimless ἐπὶ γαῖαν, contra Page; 1316a Schenkl: probably right: 1360 Reiske: right (none mentioned by Page, ed. 1938). Hcld. 161 Dobree: yes; 178 Kirchhoff: yes; 519 Blaydes: yes, cf. 329–30; 562–3 traiec. Schenkl: indeed the verses interrupt 561/564; 1015* Kirchhoff: there is no rescue for τόν τε γενναῖον (none mentioned by Garzya. ed. Teubn. 1972). Hipp. 586 neseioquis ap. Valckenaer, possibly right; 649* Heiland (neither mentioned by Barrett, ed. 1964). And. 454 Lenting: almost certainly right; 579 Nauck: similarly; 639* Wecklein; 929 Vitelli: possibly right, although D. should cite, like Murray, Pflugk's πῶς οὖν ἂν εἴποι τις τάδ᾽ (only 454 mentioned by Stevens, ed. 1971). Hec. 620 Harry: see D., GRBS 23 (1982) 318–19; 662 Herwerden: attractive before the emphasis in 663 on Hecuba, but σον is not less good; 805 Kayser: very questionable; for τὸ ἴσον sc. ἰσότης, the foundation of τὸ δίκαιον as the product of νόμος (800), cf. Pho. 538 τὸ Page 3 of 8

Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus I (Oxford Classical Text, 1984) γὰρ ἴσον νόμιμον ἀνϑρώποις ἔφυ and Pearson ad loc.; 885 Jenni: very attractive; 901 Hartung: better, certainly, than MS ἥσυχον (p.184) but the sense required is given by Murray's πλοῦν ὁρῶντ᾽ ἐς ἥσυχον, ‘looking out for, awaiting an easy sailing’; contrast 1289–91 πνοὰς … πομπίμους όρῶ, where the wind for such a sailing has come. Now to D's own conjectures. As in CR 34 (1984) 12–13 I categorise all those which are not primarily diagnostic as (1) palmary or almost certainly right, (2) possibly right or attractive and (3) doubtful, unnecessary or wrong. (1) Cyc. 39: see D., CQ 21 (1971) 42; 57; 555 (Seaford defends MS L); 500, 504, 545, 554 and 688 are orthographic. Alc. 122: see D., ICS 6 (1981) 82; surely the anticipatory ἄν shows that the preceding word must be part of the apodosis, pace Dale? 847 (D., ibid. 87–8): for the γε cf. Hec. 615 Wakefield. Med. hvpoth. (a) 36: a small improvement; 320: see D., CQ 33 (1983) 348–9; 853–4 praeeunte Herwerden. Hcld. 16: approved by e.g. Erbse. Studien zum Prolog (1984) 120 n. 2; 474 not. pers. praemonente Elmsley: unquestionably right, despite Zuntz, Political Plays 111–13; 824: palmary, see D., PCPhS 28 (1984) 61–2. Hipp. 903: D.'s ὅτωι στένεις ἔπι is the best conjecture yet (Fitton's ἐφ᾽ ὧι στένεις ἔτι fails only on the otiose ἔτι); 1127. And. 180 cum testimonies; 475; 833 = 837: both transpositions in lyric; 1219 post Dobree. Hec. 415–16: see D., GRBS 23 (1982) 316–18; 828–30 (D. ibid.): palmary; 947 metri grat.; 974–5 del.: weak lines, but I incline to follow Hartung and Hadley in removing 973 too. (2) Cyc. 13*: haplography with πυϑ(όμενος)? 15*: ‘may well be right’, Seaford; 261*: followed by Seaford: 296* Seaford's careful note rules out both γε and plural ὀνείδη; D.'s obelus seems inescapable: post 399 lacuna, D. at CQ 21 (1971) 46–8; Seaford's rewriting of the passage is improbable; 439–40a* (440b is incurable); 492*; 558*; 593*; 656–7*: D. creates easier cola. Alc. 103*: to ease a likely (revived) conjecture of Blaydes. Med. 334*: see the vv. compared by D.; 910*: Page ad loc. presses the defence of the tradition as far as may be, commenting that no conjecture ‘accounts for the universality of the corruption (of πόσει) at such an early date’: ἐμοῦ iam histriones. D. rightly obelises, but his conjectures λέχει and δόμοις do not counter [[21]] Page. Does ποϑέν? cf. 573 ἄλλοθέν ποθεν; 926*: an exemplary discussion of this idiom of τίϑημι/τίϑεμαι at CQ 33 (1983) 349–51. Hcld. 226: D., CQ 22 (1972) 241–2, a solution as good as Kirchhoffs in 227; 402: D.'s σωτηρίαν follows from the transposition after 409 – but in PCPhS 28 (1982) 58–60 he gives no argument against Tyrwhitt's easier transposition after 400; 693: μενοῦντι sc. μοι is obvious (when one thinks about it!), but can the confusion with σοι be tolerated? Kirchhoff may be right, viz. ‘you (p.185) may say the rest (that is, anything you like) about me, because I won't be here’; 788* and 789*: certainly as good as Jackson; 793* σῶς (sprevit Elmsley) is good, but not λέγε; 969*: I think L. Dindorf better; 999*. Hipp. 826. And. 124–5 praeeunte Herwerden (cf. D., ICS 6 (1981) 88–92): sense and metre restored; 333 praeeuntibus Bergk, Wilamowitz: lacuna is indeed likely; 483: see ICS 92– 3; 596*; 735: the dat. is the commoner construction with ἐπεξελϑεȋν ‘attack’; 784 (see ICS 94–5): D.'s δόμος gives rather harsh change of subject; he objects to the ‘very poor style’ of the double dat. in Stevens' δόμωι (Stevens' desiderated parallel in tragedy for ἔγκειμαι is perhaps to be found at E. fr. 816.9); 855*: preserving ώσεί; 984*: D. tries to reconcile papyrus and MSS. Hec. 655 lacuna, filled ex. gr.: D. is right, contra Stinton, Judgement of Paris 75, that the τε after δρύπτεται is necessary; 1078: the adj. ὄρειος is Protean. (3) Cyc. 395*: deletion seems an extreme remedy: 707*: see Seaford for προσβαίνων ποδί. Alc. 710*: ingenious, but the imperfect is superior; 756*: Musgrave better. Med. Page 4 of 8

Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus I (Oxford Classical Text, 1984) 106 (D., CQ 34 (1984) 52–3): see Page's translation ad loc. for the sense required, though not given by the bare ἀρχῆς of the MS; D. is right at least to dismiss that. Hcld. 169*: I fail to understand μόνον; procataleptic ἐρεȋς (L) suits the tone of the agon well; cf. 162 τί δῆτα φήσεις; and the interrogative 154, 165; 260*; 319 del: ἀλλ᾽ ὅμως tout court is too powerful as a foil to πτώχους ἀλῆτας εἰσορῶντες; 396*: did D. consider Tyrwhitt's obvious όδῶι for δοράς (cf. Med. 376–7 ὅδους …ὁποίαι)? 604*: for κρύψαντες cf. Hipp. 250; 1004*. And. 743*: unnecessary; 1097: see D., ICS 6 (1981) 98 reacting to Stevens, Andromache p. 249 – but S.'s own hesitant conjecture seems preferable. Hec. 756–9: Hirzel best, keeping the apt sequence 755–6–7. Some further, various notes. Cyc. 63–81: for D's text and colometry see CQ 21 (1971) 44–5. Alc. 16: D. deletes, with Dindorf; I would prefer to keep the line, with Monk: see Dale; a defence also by Erbse, Studien zum Prolog 28: 153: I am surprised to find D. printing Broadhead's λέγεσϑαι, to produce a line he once called ‘pedestrian’ (PCPhS 15 (1969) 35; D. will not mind my pointing out that he now suppresses some readings adopted in that paper, those at 153, 285–6, 314–16 and 1106 – correctly, in all cases, I think); 771–9: the new papyrus yields nothing of importance; 930–2: a better text from Dale; 1119–20: against Hübner see Erbse, Hermes 110 (1982) 126–8. (p.186) In Med. four papyri have been discovered since Page's ed. of 1938, with new or corroborative evidence of note at 594 (=Elmsley), 725–9 (see below), 839 and 1180 (=Cobet); 12–13 are discussed by D. at CQ 34 (1984) 50–1; certainly αύτῶι in 13 alone prepares for 14–15: 38–43: a recent defence of these lines by Erbse, Studien zum Prolog 107–11; 725–9: if an editor were convinced of interpolation and disturbance in these verses, and set about emendation, he might well come up with the text afforded by the Oxyrhynchus papyrus. One of its merits is that it removes a near – duplication between 723 οὕτω δ᾽ ἔχει μοι and 725 in toto, just as one of its demerits is the awkward repetition of αὐτή between 729 and 727. On balance, I am persuaded by Page ad loc. that the text is sound; if forced to delete, I should remove just 729 with Nauck; 782 is a dubious deletion. The repetition of παῖδα(ς) in 780/2/3 is not so objectionable as the loss of the infinitive in 782 and of a fear thematic to Medea (cf. 797, 807–8 in this rhesis alone). D.'s apparatus is for once a little misleading: [[22]] Brunck's deletion was made in part on grounds of similarity with 1060–1, but Brunck retained 1060–1, while D. deletes them as part of the passage 1056–80; 798–9: I see no ground for deletion; 1056–80: D. deletes, citing only Bergk and M.D. Reeve's detailed argument in CQ for 1972. The rate of fire, and weight of ammunition, in the endless dispute about these verses, are about equal: since 1980 alone I have noted: (deleting) B. Manuwald, WS 17 (1983) 27–61, esp. 56–61: H. van Looy, Handelingen der Kon. Zuidned. Maatsch. v. Taal-en Letterkunde en Geschiednis 37 (1983) 179–91, esp. 182–93; U. Hübner, Hermes 112 (1984) 401–18 (deleting 1040–80!); (defending) H. Lloyd-Jones, Würzburger Jb. N.F. 6a (1980) 51–9 (but 1059–63 suspect); H. Erbse, Archaiognosia 2 (1981) 66–82, cf. Studien zum Prolog 296–7; H.T. Irwin, CPh 78 (1983) 191–2. If I side with the defenders, it is from conviction, which I may try to argue elsewhere, that the general shape and movement of the play suggest that Euripides indeed wrote for Medea at this place a longer rather than a shorter rhesis of indecision; its final, sententious flourish at 1078–80 has his theatrical trademark; in 1078 μανϑάνω expresses painful self-realisation exactly as in Alc. 940 and Bacch. 1296; 1221: this deletion (Reeve, West) is unquestionably right; 1223: for Lenting see D. in CQ 34 (1984) 60–1; 1270: D. should make it clear that ἔσωθεν is his own supplement; contrast Murray and Page, and compare D. at Herc. 886; 1278–85: D. offers a commentary on his reading of PStrasb 305–6 in CQ 34 (1984) 63–5; 1359 del. Verrall: against that, tellingly, Page ad loc. ‘but καὶ λέαιναν in 1358 seems to presuppose καὶ Σκύλλαν here’: cf. 1341–2.

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Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus I (Oxford Classical Text, 1984) Hcld. 629: D. does not mention, even in his denial on p. 158 of damage to the play, Kirchhoff's still popular suggestion that there is major loss after (p.187) this line; for the argument see Lesky, YCS 25 (1977) 227–38; 884: the two conjectures cited by D. are inappropriate in sense: the Messenger's own next words show that Eurystheus is not at all visibly fearful or cowering; cf. 983–5! Might the answer be as simple as παρόντα? cf. Bacch.500, 621. For Hipp. note especially the new evidence from POxy 3152 for 225–59, 269–87, 357–67, 371– 94, 442–55; at 42 D.'s comment ‘lectio suspecta’ is for once unhelpfully laconic, since the ground for doubt is dramaturgical not textual; 101: D. gives more chance to πέλας (PSorb 2252) than Barrett (ed. 1964) p. 439; 141 and 146: it is pleasing to see conjectures cited from the very full and independent review of Barrett by J.W. Fitton, Pegasus (University of Exeter Classical Society) 8 (1967) 17–43; cf. esp. 1123, 1459; 172: D. refuses to delete (Murray; Solmsen, AJPh 88 (1965) 91) or shift this verse, but might say whose anxiety it describes: the Nurse's, or the Chorus's? 191–7: many reviewers rejected Barrett's suspicion, e.g. H. Lloyd-Jones, JHS 85 (1965) 166 adducing 250–1, Fitton 27f., Solmsen 90. And. 26–8: for D.'s text see also Erbse, Studien zum Prolog 139, contra Kovacs, Andromache 9– 20; 154: this important deletion is approved also by Stevens and Kovacs; 194–5: indisputably corrupt, but rightly kept in place by D.: emended by Stevens and replaced with 199–200 by Kovacs. The paraphrase of the scholia, τῆι εὐδαιμονίαι ὑπερβάλλει, suggests that Lenting's ὑπερθεῖ τἄμ᾽ ἐλευϑ έραν ϑ᾽ ὁρᾶις is on the right lines: the antithesis of a weaker Sparta is a stronger Andromache: 293–4: I miss a reference here, for text and interpretation, to Stinton, Judgement of Paris 73–4; 964: bene Stevens ad loc., who might have cited in support of P's μένων schol. MNOAg οὐ γράμματά σου δεξάμενος; that suggests too the more obvious conjecture λαβών. Stevens' disquiet with the over-emphasis given σάς by μέν needs answer; 1031–5: D.'s text meets all Stevens' questions (n. on 1032ff.) except on the ‘awkward repetition’ of νιν; 1037: I would keep στοναχάς as object: LSJ s.v. μέλπω give only A.P. 9.521 for the passive of the verb, of a song sung; 1041: D. might have indicated who he thinks σοί is: Andromache, probably, in the light of his text in 1038–40 and 1046. Kovacs, Andromache 42 returns to the view that σοί is [[23]] Hermione, but he reads λεχέων with Wilamowitz in 1039. I agree with him that Campbell's Δαναΐδαις in 1046 is delusory, and would obelise there; 1121: ‘ἐξέλκει suspectum’ D. It cannot mean ‘draws (his sword)’, for Neoptolemus is άτευχής in 1119; and he only snatches the dedicated weapons while, or after, he ἐξέλκει. Stevens rightly notes that ἐξέλκει (ποδά) ineptly describes N.'s spirited defiance (even if it suits a wounded man), and it contradicts his (p.188) agility at 1135ff. Since he has moved away from the indoor altar at which he is attacked (1120: see Stevens), the altar on which he stands to shout to the Delphians at 1123 must be outside, ἐξέλκει must be, or disguise, a verb of motion, but which? ἐξελθών would be colourless, ἐξωσϑείς or ἐκϑέων most unlikely to be corrupted (cf. Ion 1217 ϑεȋ δ᾽ εὐϑὺς ἐξώ). Hec. 92–7: D. hesitantly brackets these vv. Hecuba must give the audience some idea of her dream; if 73–8 are deleted (almost certainly right), the audience will not necessarily connect Hecuba's dream with Polydorus' statement at 37–41, for at 79 the only child she mentions is her son; 163: for D.'s text see PCPhS 15 (1969) 44–5; 206: D. does not delete 206, but cites reasons for doing so. If the verse goes, we are left with the unlikely comparison of Polyxena at her sacrifice with a wolf- or lion-cub, animals inappropriate to the image. It is μόσχον which is apt, and σκύμνον which should go. One might write 205 μόσχον γάρ μ᾽ ὥστ᾽ οὐριϑρέπταν 206 δειλαία δειλαίαν 〈--207-----⏑〉 ἐσόψηι and compare IT 162 οὐρειᾶν, S. Ichn. 157 (TrGF 314.15) τῶν ὀρειτρόφων βοτῶν; 249–50: not to be moved, for βουλεύμασιν 251 picks up εὑρήματα 250

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Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus I (Oxford Classical Text, 1984) effectively; 504: the reason for deleting is not the fortuitous similarity with Alc. 66 but the awkward duplication of 509–10 and the emptiness of μέτα. 503 may fairly stand alone, but it is worth noting that without 504 we lose a hint of Agamemnon's prominence in the later action; Euripides habitually seeds his plays with such hints; 540: I see no cause to dagger πρευμενοῦς. The recall of πρευμενής 538, also at the head of its clause, is deliberate; cf. e.g. Hipp. 73–6 ἀκηράτου/ἀκήρατον; 599–602: deleted by D. with Sakorraphos. One is so often directed to Hec. 592–602 as the quintessence of Euripides rhetorieus that it is salutary to be confronted with the deletion of half this passage. One sees, Hecuba's point is made as well by 592–8, but 599–602 follow easily from the theme of 592–5, nourishment and crops. Johansen, General Reflection 158 notes how 599–602 divide the speech into two autonomous halves. And is not 603 typical of Euripides' self-mockery? I am inclined to replace μαθών in 602, all the same: see D.'s apparatus; 740: a similar argument to Bain's for retaining πραχϑέν was made independently by W. Biehl, Philologus 128 (1984) 131–5; 824: how does D. translate Nauck's ξένον? as ‘unusual’? for ‘foreign to, unconnected with’ τοῦ λόγου (cf. S. OT 219) it is not, rather it is a plank of the argument, 826–30. But why is it ‘unusual’ to plead on the strength of Agamemnon's enjoyment of Cassandra? ‘Useless’ or ‘vain’, κενόν MSS, it may indeed prove to be – for Ag. is forced to be devious in acknowledging Hec.'s claim on him through his daughter, 855ff.; 1162: D. prints the remarkable conjecture of Verrall, πολυπόδων for πολεμίων, in the phrase π. δίκην, ‘like octopuses’. The simile (p.189) is certainly apt, but I can find no parallel in Greek texts or, more important, painting. Scylla at Horn. Od.12.95, 99–100 fishes for Odysseus’ men with her six mouths, not her dangling ‘feet’, 89. On the other hand the ancients knew well the clinging power of a big octopus. Plin. NH 9.48, and poets have, if anything, imagination. Also, this and the doubtful and mutilated POxy 1176. fr. 40.5 (=Eur. F 1007h TrGF) are the only places in E. where adverbial δίκην occurs. I would obelise the text, accepting with D. that the context of Bacch.752 ὥστε πολέμιοι is so different that it does not protect the MSS here: 1172–5: D. has entirely suppressed his analysis and reconstruction of this passage in PCPhS 15 (1969) 45–6; now he simply places [[24]] a comma before ὡς κυνηγέτης rather than after it, and only cites proposals to delete 1173 or 1174. In general: there can be the same confidence in this volume's thoroughness, accuracy and scholarly rigour as in D.'s Tomus II. It evinces the same powers of unprejudiced reappraisal and original suggestion, not least in the ‘select’ plays where cause and opportunity may seem less frequent. Arithmetical comparison, or averaging, of differences between Murray and D. in these seven plays will have little meaning. Enough to say again that readers who give D. the alertness he requires, will find themselves reconsidering not just phrases and sentences but whole spans of text they may have regarded as reasonably fixed. The exercise is particularly good for conservatives; we will wait with even keener anticipation to see how in Tomus III D. handles the very full traditions, primary and secondary, of Orestes and Phoenissae (Hecuba in this volume raises hopes), and the complex problems of interpolation especially in Phoenissae and Iphigenia in Aulis. A final and separate aspect of the book. As a piece of printing this second volume is literally a thousand miles superior to the first: the Clarendon Press is to be congratulated on the clarity and accuracy of Cambridge University Press's setting (familiar to readers of this Journal!). The proof-reading has been excellent, and it is important to note only Hcld. 418 δὴ not μὴ and Hipp. 966 μῶρον not σῶφρον (I cheerfully confess that I did not notice these mistakes, any more than did editor and reader in proof: I draw them from C.W. Willink, JACT Bulletin 2 (1985) 20); on p. 336 the omission of PCantab Fitzw Mus 2 (Pack2 1571), containing Hec. 20–1, 503–4, from the list of papyri, causes mis-numbering of the papyri below the text on pp. 340, 341, 350, 362. As a Page 7 of 8

Review of James Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae Tomus I (Oxford Classical Text, 1984) piece of book-production, however, the volume has one fault astonishing in a standard text which will get heavy use: the pages are glued not bound; the review copy began to crack (loudly) as soon as I opened it, and is now shedding leaves.

(p.190) Endnote 2006 [p. 180] to Diggle's own papers clarifying the manuscript tradition add his monograph The Textual Tradition of Euripides' Orestes (Oxford, 1991); his study of Triclinius in Hcld, appeared as ‘The relationship between L and P in Heracleidae’, Sileno 10 (1984) 191–6 and was reprinted in his Euripidea (1994) 298–304; note also especially H.C. Günther, The Manuscripts and Transmission of the Paleologean Scholia on the Euripidean Triad (Stuttgart, 1995). Commentaries: since I wrote this review, more than twenty further commentaries in English on Euripides have been published, and still more are in preparation. [p. 189] Diggle attached a list of printing errors in Tomus I (and in Tomus II) to his Tomus III (1994) 480–2. Significant other reviews of Tomus I were by W. Luppe, DLZ 107 (1986) 364–6; F. Ferrari, RIFC 114 (1986) 61–8; D. Mastronarde, CPh 83 (1988) 151–60; and of his whole edition by R.E. Renehan, ‘The Euripidean studies of James Diggle; a review article’, CPh 93 (1998) 161–91, 249– 70.

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Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712)

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0014

Abstract and Keywords This article assesses two works greatly different in significance. The Fleming Dirk Canter, brother of Willem the editor of all Euripides in 1573, began with him the systematic and methodologically precocious collection of Euripides’ fragments in quotation in other ancient authors; it remained unpublished, and largely unknown and unused, until the 1980's, and is now in the Bodleian Library Oxford. Canter's work on the fragments (but not his manuscript) was known to Barnes, who published the first complete annotated edition of Euripides in 1694; it included fragments reprinted from Grotius’ two anthologies of 1623 and 1626, and a very few gathered by Barnes himself – but no scholarly apparatus. Barnes quickly realised his shortcomings, and left copious supplementary notes handwritten in his own copy – now also in Oxford. The article includes biographical and evaluative matter for Barnes. Keywords:   Euripides, fragments, early collectors, Dirk Canter, Barnes

L'Antiquité Classique 64 (1995) 243–56 Preliminary note 2006 The article has been revised and reduced, with updating of some references; the numeration of the notes remains the same. Some biographical matter upon Joshua Barnes has been added as an Endnote; two major deletions from the original are also noted there.

I. Dirk Canter (Theodorus Canterus), 1545–1617 J.A. Gruys drew attention in 1981 to the remarkable collection of Greek poetic fragments made in the late 16th century by Dirk Canter, and to its equally remarkable history: never published, little known or used even in its day, subsequently scattered and partly lost, passing through various ownerships, almost disappearing from scholarly record since the middle 18th century.1

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Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) The collection seems to have been devoted chiefly to the dramatists. Those parts of it which survive are now shared between the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris (some of the comedians, including Aristophanes) and the Bodleian Library in Oxford (Euripides, the minor tragedians and the major part of the comedians).2 My own recent work on some of Euripides' fragmentary plays,3 and a pointer from Stefan Radt towards both Gruys and Canter, brought me to examine the Euripidean part in Oxford. I judged that Canter's achievement deserved a fuller evaluation than Gruys had reason to (p.194) give it, his purpose being in the main bibliographic and his subject mainly Aeschylus. Dirk Canter (1545–1617) was the younger brother of Willem Canter (Gulielmus Canterus, 1542– 75), noteworthy still as the first modern editor of all three tragedians.4 Gruys infers, chiefly from a letter of Dirk dated 15 March 1571,5 which writes of Euripidean and other fragments, that the collection was begun [[244]] in the 1560s, probably in Paris and jointly with Willem; both studied there, and later both lived and worked in Louvain.6 After his brother's death in 1575, Dirk returned to his birthplace Utrecht and began a long career of religious and political controversy, including public office there and ending with his exile in 1611 first to Antwerp and then Leeuwarden where he died in 1617.7 Gruys offers evidence that Dirk continued to work on the collection throughout his life.8 It became known amongst scholars.9 Dirk sent some of the volumes to J.J. Scaliger (1540–1609), who annotated them with marginal corrections and conjectures: but it does not seem possible to establish at what stage in the work they were sent, nor whether before or after Willem's death in 1575, who had constant scholarly contact with Scaliger.10 After beginning his Antwerp exile in 1611, Dirk entrusted the collection to his friend A. Schott (1552–1629), who both annotated and supplemented the volumes, most heavily for Euripides. Schott reorganised the content, had part of it recopied and marked it up for typesetting; he tried to secure publication by the Genevan house of Pierre de la Rouvière.11 He failed, and in 1624 arranged for the volumes to go to Hugo Grotius (1583–1645), who used them, heavily [[245]] but not exhaustively, together with many of Scaliger's marginalia, as a basis for his Excerpta ex Tragoediis et Comoediis Graecis of 1626.12 Grotius did not return the volumes to Geneva, nor to Schott. They came subsequently into the Library of Christina of Sweden, in whose service Grotius acted as chargé at Paris from 1635. Later they were variously sold and resold until the three volumes now in Oxford were owned, still in Holland, by J.P. d'Orville (1696–1751). While in his possession, or more probably that of his son and heir, they were known to L.C. Valckenaer (1715–1785), who refers to them in his Diatribe in Euripidis Perditorum Dramatum Fragmenta of 1767;13 but I have not found it possible to show that he used the Euripides volume directly, rather than drew his fragments from Grotius, Barnes (Euripides, 1694: Part II of this paper) or his own reading. Although the volumes were described by T. Gaisford (1779–1855) upon their accession to the Bodleian Library in a printed catalogue,14 (p.195) they indeed appear to have been ‘completely forgotten’ (Gruys) except by the librarians themselves.15 A bibliographical description of the Euripides volume is given by Gruys.16 Dirk began his work by cutting up a copy of C. Gesner's Stobaeus in its third edition (Basel, 1559); he selected the Euripidean quotations and pasted the printed Greek texts and Latin translations onto opposite pages of a ‘blank’ book; the quotation-fragments were arranged play by play in alphabetical order. Over the years Dirk supplemented this collection with fragments gathered in the course of wide reading (and his brother Willem's reading: see below), writing in the Greek texts and usually Latin translations where he could, sometimes pasting in additional leaves or slips.17 It

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Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) appears that Dirk from the beginning wrote separate ‘scholia’, consisting usually of full transcriptions of the sources for the fragments. When Schott prepared the volume for printing, he used a copyist to repeat and transfer some of the source-references to the Latin translations; Dirk's scholia were dismembered, sometimes [[246]] recopied, and added after individual plays, with marginal letters referring from Greek fragments to scholia. Only Dirk's scholia to the fragmenta incerta were preserved in sequence, and bound in at the end of the volume. The volume today is thus even more untidy and heterogeneous than when Dirk relinquished it to Schott. Some of Dirk's original matter survives in writing other than his own; there are marginalia by Scaliger and Schott. It was presumably in this state when Schott passed it to Grotius. There are also, it appears to me, a few marginalia by at least one other hand, probably later than Schott's: perhaps they are from subsequent owners.18 I attempt now to measure Dirk's achievement. R. Kassel has illuminated the ruling principle of early printed collections and editions of fragments, in particular of the dramatists: selectiveness and categorisation according to sententious or moral content.19 Both principle and method were derivative, formed upon the anthologies or gnomologies of late antiquity. Stobaeus in early printed editions, especially those of C. Gesner (1516–65) used by Dirk himself, provided a model as well as copious material. I have traced a few selections of Euripidean fragments printed before or during Dirk's period of work. They are all slight and drawn exclusively from Stobaeus; they might have afforded Dirk an idea, how to begin his collection, but no more.20 The first large body of Euripidean fragments to be printed was of those selected for Grotius' anthology Dicta Poetarum quae apud Ioannem Stobaeum exstant (Paris, 1623), in which the ‘chapters’ were those of Stobaeus himself and each poet's work was therefore scattered through the volume. This book was made quite (p.196) independently of Dirk's collection and almost certainly even without knowledge of it. When Grotius issued his supplementary anthology Excerpta in 1626, the non-Stobaean fragments were drawn largely from Dirk's volumes through the mediation of Schott (above); and the entire collection was arranged under poets' names and plays by alphabetical title, not according to ‘chapters’ – but the ruling principle remained that of sententious content.21 It seems, the anthological tradition, the wish merely to complete his earlier work, or perhaps an educational imperative overcame any influence from the wholly different model afforded to Grotius by Dirk's volumes or by two recent specialised publications. There were two collections of evidence for the complete œuvres of the tragedians, recognisably ‘modern’ in their disinterested evaluation and alphabetical organisation of the material: I. Casaubon's catalogue of Sophoclean play-titles, incidental to his work on Athenaeus, first published in 1600, and I. Meursius' Aeschylus, Sophocles, [[247]] Euripides. Sive de Tragoedia eorum (Leiden, 1619).22 Neither of these works shows awareness of Dirk's collection, although both were made in the Low Countries. Dirk's alphabetical organisation and constant attempts to go beyond the gnomological fragments therefore stand out more strongly in originality, as well as in primacy of time. Dirk gathered fragments for 64 plays of Euripides (listed on pp. 3–4 of the volume): Meursius (pp. 95–127) listed 81 fragmentary plays, including 5 he named as satyric and 7 titles he annotated as duplicated, corrupt or inauthentic. Modern scholarship would disqualify only 8 of Dirk's titles as inauthentic, but 23 of Meursius', leaving 56 for Dirk and 58 for Meursius; given the confused evidence for the titles, these are remarkably similar totals. As to the number of fragments gathered, Dirk's collection as the earliest is impressive in comparison with those of later date which were assembled with help of more and better editions of the authors quoting Euripides, some equipped with indexes: Dirk 593 fragments from 64 named plays and 244

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Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) incerta (whether of uncertain location or authenticity); Barnes (1694) 672 from 65 named plays and 168 incerta (but the numbers are precarious, since it is not always evident, where Barnes joined or separated fragments); Musgrave (1778) 693 and 226; Matthiae (1829) 768 and 276 incertae sedis (and 22 incerta, 44 dubia); Dindorf (18512) 835 and 249; Nauck (18561) 841 and 276, (18892) 844 and 288.23 What distinguishes (in both English senses) Dirk's method from that of Barnes is the careful transcription in his scholia of the source of many fragments, usually with the full context or at least the useful context in which they are cited, together with full bibliographical references where the editions of his day permitted it. Grotius did not follow Dirk's method when (p.197) compiling his Excerpta, naming only poet and play for each fragment; and Barnes followed Grotius, although he had a model closer to Dirk's available in the fragments edited in T. Stanley's Aeschylus of 1663 (see Part II below). Dirk's method was first followed in print for Euripides by Valckenaer, for the large selection of fragments which he discussed, and in a complete collection, and consistently, by Musgrave. Dirk's scholia, moreover, occasionally go beyond citation of sources to discussion of authenticity, of the quality and accuracy of the quoted text, or of the subject-matter.24 The question, upon what resources Dirk drew for the fragments which he did not excise from Gesner's Stobaeus, is simply answered: upon his own wide reading, without doubt encouraged, directed and shared with his brother Willem, whose methodical and unsparing labour in this respect was well known to his [[248]] contemporaries (and was believed to have led to his early death: see Mund-Dopchie in n. 6 above). Willem deplored the inadequacy of scholarly aids in his time, insisting that his only course as an editor was to apply his own intellect to the results of constant and close reading.25 Dirk's Variae Lectiones of 1574 attest the breadth of his studies, from the early Greek poets to the Christian fathers. In a significant passage he rails against the tendency of earlier editors to amend their texts just because they could not understand them; the implication is that if their scholarship were well founded on wide reading, amendment would be both less frequent and more convincing.26 The Variae Lectiones demonstrate this principle everywhere; and they show above all not only where and how Dirk collected fragments, but how he evaluated their texts in relation to their sources. He often refers to the tragedians. Not a few quotations of Euripides by other authors are discussed and where necessary corrected;27 some of the matter appears in the manuscript volume of Euripides, with cross-references to Variae Lectiones; where there are no such references, it seems that the printed discussions are earlier than the usually fuller manuscript entries.28 [[249]] If the breadth of Dirk's and his brother Willem's reading for Euripides is scaled up for all the poets, the labour of initial reading, excerption and transcription, assessment, commentary, organisation and final assembly is revealed as prodigious. The project was imaginative and ambitious for its day, and its achievement extraordinary. Now that Gruys has brought it again into the light, it is revealed as surpassing in sustained energy and scholarship the two anthologies of Grotius, which were both almost wholly derivative, Excerpta indeed from Dirk himself – and as immeasurably superior to the collection of the fragments by Barnes, who did not use even Grotius as well as he might.29 [[250 deleted, 251]] (p.198)

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Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) (p.199) II. Joshua Barnes, 1654– 1712 The entry for Barnes in the British Dictionary of National Biography is entertaining.30/31 There is much incidental matter in his large annotated edition of Euripides (1694) which is also entertaining at Barnes' expense.32 The book's grandiloquent pretence to scholarly achievement is easy to mock.33 The nature and quality of that achievement have been belittled since the book's publication.34 The unsoundness and laziness of Barnes' work on the fragments in particular were diagnosed by Valckenaer. My purpose here is to reassess Barnes' working methods, and to qualify Valckenaer's criticisms to some degree, in the light of Barnes' own statements about his work, and particularly in the light of his later manuscript revisions. Valckenaer's criticisms were: (1) of the 2,500 fragmentary verses claimed by Barnes,35 more than 2,000 were carelessly transcribed by an amanuensis from Grotius' Dicta Poetarum and from his Excerpta: of the 400 or so verses which Barnes added, about half should not have [[252]] been admitted as Euripidean. Even an attentive reading of Stobaeus alone would have yielded more

The first of two fulsome dedicatory pages in Joshua Barnes' Euripides of 1694. The woodblock capital E from ‘Euripides’ on this page provides the motif on the cover of this volume.

incontrovertibly genuine verses than Grotius assembled for Dicta Poetarum;36 (2) some passages from complete plays were offered as fragments because of errors by the amanuensis in copying play-titles, errors which Barnes himself admitted in his notes;37 (3) Barnes frequently omitted to give the sources of fragments; (4) Barnes failed to indicate or annotate the original quotation text or its context, simply reproducing Grotius' often altered readings and taking little account of Grotius' notes, and sometimes printing Greek paraphrases; (5) Barnes added no fresh material, and made no textual corrections of any worth; (6) Barnes' lack of method contrasted with the quality of Richard Bentley's work on the fragments of Callimachus, published in Holland soon after Barnes' Euripides, so causing Bentley's just anger at the botching of a task he had foreseen for himself.38 Barnes' own statements of his method in collecting and editing the fragments are not where one might expect to find them, in the prefatory material to the whole book. The first and longest is concealed in the commentary on v. 65 of the spurious Danae fragment (1132 Nauck, omitted by Page 5 of 15

Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) TrGF);39 although physically the statement immediately precedes the first of the genuine fragments from Danae, its location suggests either that Barnes was a thoughtless copy-editor or that the inclusion of the fragments was an (p.200) afterthought – or both of these things. The statement is worth transcribing, for it defends Barnes in part against the more extreme criticisms of Valckenaer (I italicise it to distinguish it from my notes): Sed iam hinc omnia abrupta, nec aliud Euripidis post tot Secula integrum servatur (indeed, the first extensive fragments recovered from a once complete text of a lost play were those of the Phaethon in the early 19th century40), nisi quod hinc inde ex jam perditis illius Fabulis Antiqui Scriptores citaverunt, nunc Fabulae nomine indicato, aliquando Authore tantum Nominato, sine ulla loci designatione (factually correct; Barnes might nevertheless have distinguished between anthologists, lexicographers and other kinds of ‘ancient writer’); quare Ego in secuturis fragmentis describendis, quotquot ita dirigi possunt, sub titulis ordinabo, pro Alphabeti serie, post reliqua ad hanc Danaen pertinentia, quae hue satius visum est referre (Dirk Canter's method, but also Grotius' in the Excerpta, whether independent of Dirk or not. It is the logical and only sound method, when sure dating [[253]] of the lost plays is impossible – but did Barnes find it for himself, follow Meursius or Grotius – or imitate his compatriot T. Stanley in his alphabelical ordering of the fragmentary plays of Aeschylus?41). Caetera confusim prout ad manus venerint, et seorsim ad finem ponam, utpote quorum certos locos haud possem invenire, Authorem Euripidem fatentur omnes (Dirk Canter found no better method of ordering the incerta; Barnes explains ‘fatentur omnes’ only much later, at the start of the incerta themselves: see below – but he does at least properly warn the reader about the uncertainties of ascription). Monendus est autem Lector, multa Nomina Fabularun falso Euripidi adscripta passim apud Authores: saltem falso a nonnullis reputari. Nam ubi Veteres Hermionem loquentem inducant, aut Polydorun, aut Atreum, aut Capanea, statim Fabulas his nominibus vocatas crederunt haud pauci (it is indicative of Dirk Canter's judgement that not one of these four names appears in his list of Euripidean play-titles; but all but the first are in Meursius' list); cum Personae tantum istae sint, prior in Fabula Andromache, altera in Hecuba, tertia in Oreste (incorrect), quarta in Supplicibus (also incorrect). De qua re vide plura in Fragmentis ad Atreus et Capaneus. Non ego Magna Nomina lacessere volo; sufficiat haec semel hoc in loco monuisse (Barnes refers to his p. 458, note on v. 1 of Atreus; there, and p. 475 on Capaneus, he castigates Meursius for making the initial false ascription; p. 500, note on v. 6 of Phaedra, he writes ‘En! jam Stobaei in hac re Grotiique fidem; horum alter ex Euripide, alter ex Sophoclis Phaedra hunc locum citat: cum iam (p. 201) exstat in Sophocis Electra v. 1053–1054’. Neither Dirk Canter nor Meursius includes Phaedra in his Euripidean list). De Scriptoribus vero, unde ut plurimum haec sunt hausta, monuimus supra ad finem Argumenti Actus Primi (p. 439, where Barnes indeed reveals his ‘sources’: ‘Caetera, quae sequuntur, Fragmenta sunt ex Stobaeo, Hugonis Grotii Excerptis, Athenaeo, Clemente Alexandrino, Justino Martyre, Plutarcho, Macrobio, Johanne Meursio, Strabone, Longino, Eustathio, Scholiastisque aliis’. In his manuscript additions (see n. 32), Barnes twice supplemented this list, with a further five modern and eight ancient authors respectively.). [[254]] The second statement is at the start of the Incerta: Hi loci omnes, qui sequuntur, exceptis mox excipiendis Euripidi quidem ab omnibus tribuuntur: sed vel indicta Fabula, vel dubitata. Nec facile erat Negotium, nec operae quidem pretium puto, si minus esset difficile, certos locos, ad quos referri debent, digito

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Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) monstrare. Quare haec Lectoris arbitrio dirigenda relinquo … (the ‘difficulty’ was, and remains, very great, and Barnes is at least frank; but his complete abdication of effort is inexcusable).42 On the same page, in his Commentary on the first genuine fragment of Danae, Barnes has: Semel autem hic notandum est omnes qui sequuntur, locos, ex Stobaeo sumi (in fact, from Grotius' Dicta Poetarum, nowhere mentioned, as far as I can find, either in the printed book or in the manuscript additions), et ex Hugonis Grotii Excerptis, praeter quos ab aliis Authoribus infra notabitur (in one sense, Barnes was doing no more than Dirk Canter did in beginning with the fragments in Stobaeus, the largest single anthology, Dirk with Gesner's, Barnes with Grotius' Dicta Poetarum; and no more than any subsequent editor who began with the collections of his predecessors). Barnes began assembling fragments for each play with those in Grotius' Excerpta, copied by his amanuensis almost always in the same order and with the same text and translation. Then he added the Stobaean fragments from Grotius' earlier Dicta Poetarum, copied with similar closeness. Occasionally he made and noted changes from Grotius' translations, but he was negligent in using Grotius' notes to either volume. Next he added a few further fragments, apparently from his reading both of primary sources like Aristophanes and scholia, or Athenaeus, and of secondary works such as T. Gataker's Adversaria Miscellanea (London, 1651; with ‘Posthuma’, 1659), whom Barnes named on his ‘Contents’ page in vol. I (see below). His own (p.202) annotation was intermittent and usually sparse, many fragments being left entirely without comment. It is instructive to study Barnes' use of Grotius in the light of Grotius' use of Dirk Canter, on the example of one play. In Stheneboea Grotius in his Excerpta of 1626 reproduced from Dirk those fragments (665.1, 670, 663, 661 Nauck) which he had not already printed in his Dicta Poetarum (668, 662, 671); Dirk's order was 661, 665.1, 670, 663, 668, 662, 671. Neither Dirk nor Grotius found frs. 664, 666 and 672, the other book-fragments known before the 20th century. Grotius gave only minimal source details for the fragments he took for Excerpta from Dirk, for his consistent policy in this regard did not allow him to reproduce Dirk's detailed scholia on frs. 661, 665.1 and 663. Barnes copied first the fragments from Excerpta, but in the order 661, 665 (with fuller text and testimony, which he got from Gataker), 670, 663 (citing R. Bentley's discussion in the Epistola ad Millium of 1691); then from Dicta Poetarum he copied 668, 662 (noting its ascription also to Bellerophon and referring to his note there – which he did not in fact write) and after the insertion of 664 (from Athenaeus; collected neither by Dirk nor by Grotius), 671. Dirk Canter, Grotius and Barnes all missed frs. 666 (Stobaeus) and 672 (Aeschines). When Valckenaer discussed just two fragments of Stheneboea, 664 and, at great length, 663, he criticised Barnes for not following Gataker's lead in rejecting the third verse of 663 as spurious.43 Barnes could not use Dirk's volume, but he knew of it while doubting its reality. The grandiose ‘Contents’ page in his Vol. I lists Th. Canterus among the scholars ‘qui nobis in hoc Opere facem praetulerunt’; the list contains many names of earlier editors, annotators and printers of Euripides. The Index Secundus in his Vol. II has only one reference to Th. Canterus, to the Variae Lectiones in the note on Hippolytus 385 (I.231). When Barnes reprinted the spurious Danae fragment from the Editio Commeliniana of 1597, he also reproduced its dedication to Th. Canterus [[255]] (see n. 9 above). In his own copy of his Euripides Barnes added to this dedication (if 1 read his hand accurately): ‘hoc prius Fragmentum ad v. 65 Theodoro acceptum Page 7 of 15

Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) (?) ferimus cum Hieron. Commelino qui id agnoscit; Talia quidem Euripidis Fragments ab eodem Cantero expectare nos olim poscit (?) Andreas Schottus, Observationes Poet, (published at Antwerp, 1615) I (ib). 2 c. 47 p. 95. Verum ille fefellit fidem’. Schott had said: ‘nuper άποσπασμάτια istorum (Euripidis dramatum) a se diligenter comportata Th. Canterus brevi ut spero in apertam proferet lucem’; in 1615 Schott was in possession of Dirk's volumes and trying to secure their publication (n. 11). Why did Barnes not trust Schott? Did he not read the Preface of Grotius' (p.203) Excerpta, where use of Dirk's collection is acknowledged? Unlike Bentley, whose correspondence with Dutch and Flemish scholars was frequent, Barnes appears to have had no such contacts, certainly at this early stage of his editorial career; it is therefore unlikely that he would have enquired about Dirk's collection. Bentley himself may have been unaware of it, despite his ambitions to edit the Greek poetic fragments and despite his collaboration with the Dutch scholar Graevius upon Callimachus (see n. 38); and Graevius too may not have known of it, like Meursius when he was preparing his list of Greek tragedies (n. 22). To conclude: Barnes was both complacent and disingenuously candid about the problems of collecting and editing fragments. He was either too unmethodical or too lazy to utilise Grotius' two anthologies as a basis for a better arranged and documented edition, although he had a sound organisational and scholarly model in Stanley's Aeschylus. Valckenaer's criticisms (nos. 3 and 4 above) of his omission of so many details of the ancient sources remain most damning, because adequacy in that respect was certainly possible without huge effort. Valckenaer's scorn (no. 5 above), that Barnes added little and made no original contribution, is not quite true – but truer of his work on the fragments than on the complete plays (where, conversely, he is more guilty of unacknowledged or dishonest borrowing; see the references in n. 34 above).44 Barnes seems to have become conscious of his shortcomings in presenting the fragments. The marginalia in his own copy are very much fuller for the fragments than they are for the complete plays. They contain matter intended presumably for a revised edition. The ink colours and the variations in the script attest constant return to the work, no doubt over many years; for example, Vol. II, p. 439 has entries on at least five different occasions, p. 453 on six.45 The marginalia are piecemeal, clumsily signposted from the printed text and often very crowded; no printer could have used them. Barnes tried to correct or supplement in the following main ways: appending the source to many (but far from all) fragments, chiefly the Stobaean ones; supplying further testimonia for text and myth, noting textual differences or [[256]] conjectures (so anticipating one of Valckenaer's criticisms); noting a few fresh fragments for insertion or comparison; supplying further matter to his interpretative notes; correcting misprints. The fact, not the content or the quality of the marginalia, is important: Barnes kept working upon the fragments, trying both to supplement and to improve. Barnes therefore deserves some small rehabilitation against Valckenaer. His principal achievement, furthermore, remains: his edition, however (p.204) defective, was the first by an individual scholar to present and annotate all the complete plays, let alone include the fragments.46 Appendix: Joshua Barnes' Textual Marginalia In His Own Euripides These are few, and those which are conjectures original to Barnes or anticipate later scholars, very few indeed; I note mainly this latter kind. In the fragments (attributions according to Nauck): Aegeus fr. 2 μήτηρ (with changed wordorder) Barnes: μάτηρ Elmsley; μᾶτερ testimonia; fr. 4.1 γρ. παισι Barnes = Musgrave; πᾶσι test.; fr. 9.1 εὐγενίαὶ Barnes = Valckenaer; ~ -είας test. Page 8 of 15

Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) Alexandros fr. 58.2 ἅ … σωτήρια Barnes (possibly right: cf. e.g. Med. 453). Auge fr. 272 νηπίων Barnes = Herwerden; νηπίοις Stobaeus Oedipus fr. 549 μί᾽ ἡμέρα Barnes; ἀλλ᾽ ἦμαρ Nauck; ἀλλ᾽ ἡμέρα edd.; test. Phaethon fr. 784.2 = 161 Diggle ὅστις γε πατέρων Barnes. fr. 913.3 ἀτηρὰ Barnes = Potter; ἀτειρὰ test, ἀτειρῆς printed by Barnes). In the complete plays (attributions according to Wecklein) Hecuba 907 τοῖον (but with σ᾽ for δ᾽) Barnes = King; τοίονδε mss. Orestes 985 ἀμβοάσω Barnes = Dindorf; ἀναβοάσω Iphigenia inAulide 855 etc. πρεσβύτης Barnes = Markland; θεράπων mss. Electra 875 χορεύσεται Barnes = Seidler; χωρήσεται mss. (Bad) conjectures unique to Barnes: IT 131 κληδοΰχος, Bacch. 201 πατρῶν, Ion 1590 ἐξ οὗ. Barnes also noted additional readings from ‘Ms. Cotton’ in Hecuba, Orestes, Phoenissae, Medea, Hippolytus, Alcestis, Andromache, Troades, Bacchae and Cyclops. ‘Ms. Cotton’ with precisely these contents corresponds with no entry in T. Smith, Catalogue of the Manuscripts of the Cotton Library, 1696 ed. C.G.C. Tite (Cambridge, 1984), nor with any printed Euripides with manuscript notes listed by R.C. Alston, Books with Manuscript (British Library, London, 1994) 208. The mystery is of no consequence, for the readings are valueless and derive perhaps from a very late manuscript now lost – or lost even before Smith made his Catalogue.

Notes (p.207) (p.208) (p.210)

Endnote 2006 In this revision I have deleted the illustration of the extent and accuracy of Dirk Canter's collection against Nauck's, which stood on pp. 248–9 of the original article, and the Appendix to Part I, ‘J.J. Scaliger's marginalia in Dirk Canter's Euripides’, which stood on pp. 249–51 (see n. 29 above). In n. 45 of the original I wrote that I was preparing a general appreciation of Barnes' career and scholarship; the intention and the work were diverted into my entry for Barnes to the Dictionary of British Classicists, ed. R.B. Todd (Bristol, 2004) 1.52–4. I had, however, examined all autograph matter in Barnes's hand that I could find; the yield was small. I expand that entry here with some details of Barnes's astonishing, indiscriminate energy and singular personality, to support my appraisal of his work on the Euripides fragments. Barnes was a precocious schoolboy and in boyhood already a prolific poet (or versifier) in English, Latin and especially Greek, the latter predominantly in baroque ‘Homeric’ hexameters; he confessed his facility in the Preface to his Αύλικοκάποπτρον sive Estherae Historia (London, 1679), a Greek poetic paraphrase with Latin version of the Book of Esther, equipped with Page 9 of 15

Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) Barnes's own Greek ‘scholia’. His Franciad, ‘a Latin heroick poem on the Black Prince’, was conceived together with his biography of Edward III (below); a study or edition of it from the ms. in the Library of Emmanuel (p.211) College, Cambridge (Barnes's own college) has been promised by Dr D.K. Money. Many other poetic extravaganzas, large and small, remain unpublished in the same Library. (Dr Money has published a brief biographical sketch of Barnes, and an evaluation of his Latin poetry, particularly the Franciad, in the part-chapter ‘The epic eccentricity of Joshua Barnes’ in his The English Horace (Oxford, 1998) 94–8.) Barnes wrote plays: those from his boyhood seem not to have survived, but three unpublished ones survive at Emmanuel; they were described by J.O. Halliwell, A Dictionary of Old English Plays (London, 1860) 2, 84, 141. He wrote biography: The History of Edward III (London, 1688), a very long narrative embellished with speeches recreated by Barnes; surprisingly, it is still of use for its mass of transcribed documentary information: see D.C. Douglas, English Scholars (London, 1939) 168 and R. Barber in Literary Review (February, 2006) 19. He finished but did not publish ‘lives’ of Oliver Cromwell and Pindar, and began writing ones for Scanderbeg, Tamerlain and the Psalmist David. Barnes was a controversialist, most notoriously in Aristarchus Ampullans (London, 1712 (the year of his death)), in which he tried to retaliate upon Bentley for scorning his work, especially in Euripides, by attacking Bentley's textually interventionist Horatius of 1711. He was a nonJuror under William and Mary, like his tetchy and frequent Oxford correspondent Thomas Hearne, whose Collections in Vols. I-IV (ed. C.E. Doble & D.W. Rannie (Oxford, 1885–98)) contain many quotations from Barnes's letters; the letters are themselves preserved in the Bodleian Library. Hearne was a more obdurate anti-Williamite than Barnes, who in 1703 published The Good Old Way, dedicated to Queen Anne, all its three essays nostalgic for old virtues, not least in the Church of England. Barnes was vain, loved self-advertisement, and joyfully printed laudatory poems by acquaintances in his editions of Euripides (1694), Anacreon (1705) and Homer (1710–11); more than once, for example in The Good Old Way, he printed a ‘Catalogue’ of his books, of forty or so items, finished, published, unpublished and inchoate. He was instant with poems to mark ‘occasions’, in the hope of drawing patronage; for example, his Anacreon of 1705 began with a Pindaric epinician to the Duke of Marlborough, victor of Blenheim in the year before publication. He was importunate, too: the dedications of his books either acknowledged or more often solicited support: for example, he presented his Edward III in person to James II, ironically misjudging that king's security on his throne just months before he was forced to abandon it; his Homer of 1710–11 had three noblemen as dedicatees; he wrote begging letters, now in the Bodleian, to (p.212) the great political manipulator and bibliophile Robert Harley, later Earl of Oxford. Barnes also wrote a picaresque fiction, his Gerania: a New Discovery of a Little Sort of People, anciently discoursed of, called Pygmies (London, 1703); he built this upon Homer, Iliad 3.5–7, the war of the cranes (γερανοί) and the pygmies; it was almost certainly a part-model for the Lilliputian episode of Swift's Gulliver's Travels. Lastly, his career in brief: Christ's Hospital School, London as a ‘poor scholar’ (his father was a tradesman; for Barnes' lasting fame there, see p. 223 n. 8); Emmanuel College, Cambridge from 1671 (Fellow from 1678 to 1701, when his marriage required him to resign his Fellowship); and from 1695 till his death in 1712 Regius Professor of Greek in the University. In this office he appears to have lectured quite conscientiously, but without respect from the undergraduates (a Page 10 of 15

Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) pamphlet of scurrilous verses referred to him as ‘Sub-Professor Linguae Graecae’: Gentleman's Magazine 49 (1779) 547). His scholarly repute suffered always from Bentley's scorn over the Euripides of 1694 and particularly after Bentley came to Cambridge as Master of Trinity College in 1702. This book had nevertheless helped to secure Barnes's appointment to the Regius Chair (in those days, of little consequence and poorly paid). In all, a man curious and able to accumulate ‘stores of learning’, but largely without judgement – of himself, of his scholarship and of his times. (With reference to nn. 30–31 of the paper: the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004), 3.998–1001 has a new article upon Barnes (with portrait) by K.L. Haugen; it is excellent on his personality but rather light on his scholarship.) Notes: (30/31) . DNB 1 (1908), 1170–2 (by A.H. Bullen), revised in Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004). The old DNB entry is listed among lives ‘of interest and not usually read’ in the unputdownable ‘anthology’ Geoffrey Madan's Notebooks, ed. J.A. Gere and J. Sparrow (Oxford, 1981) 17 (G. Madan was the son of F. Madan, Bodley's Librarian, Oxford, cited in n. 15 above). For the original n. 31 see my Endnote below. (1) . J.A. Gruys, The Early Printed Editions of Aeschylus, 1518–1664 (The Hague, 1981) 277–309: Appendix III ‘Dirk Canter's Fragmenta poetarum Graecorum’, and 342–46: Notes. Gruys' discovery was recorded by S.L. Radt in TrGF IV: Sophocles (Göttingen, 1977) 9, and more fully in III: Aeschylus (1985) 9; and by R. Kassel in Fragmenta Dramatica, ed. H. Hofmann, A. Harder (Göttingen, 1991) 248; cf. n. 30 below. The word ‘collector’ in my title is gratefully borrowed from Kassel's title ‘Fragmente und ihre Sammler’. Kassel's paper has since appeared in English translation as ‘Fragments and their collectors’ in F. McHardy, J. Robson, D. Harvey (eds.), Lost Dramas of Classical Athens (Exeter, 2005) 7–20. (2) . The Paris parts are described by Gruys on 302–5, the Oxford parts on 294–304. The Oxford parts have the call-marks Ms. d'Orville 121 (Euripides), 122 (minor tragedians), and 123 (comedians). (3) . C. Collard, M. Cropp, K.H. Lee, Euripides: Selected Fragmentary Plays: I (Warminster, 1995); volume II was published in 2004. (4) . See esp. M. Mund-Dopchie, La survie d'Eschyle à la Renaissance (Louvain, 1984) 239–61 (earlier, ‘Guillaume Canter, Éditeur d'Eschyle’, in Album. Festschrift … C. Verlinden (Gent, 1975) 232–45). (5) . Letter to P. Daniel (1531–1604), French lawyer and humanist, transcribed by Gruys first on 279; it is now letter 2 in his Theodori Canteri Epistolae (1570–1614) (Amsterdam, 1997) 56. (6) . For Willem's brief career see Mund-Dopchie, La survie, 239–242. It may be noted that Willem published the first two books of Stobaeus, the chiefly prose Eclogae, at Antwerp in 1575; Grotius' Dicta Poetarum of 1623 (see main text below) anthologised the poetic fragments from all of Stobaeus, and in some sense supplemented Canter. (7) . For a biography of Dirk Canter see Gruys, 277–78; more fully in his Theodori Canteri Epistolae (n. 5 above) 3–48.

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Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) (8) . Gruys, 298. Letter 71 (n. 5 above, p. 265), of 1600, attests Dirk's work on them at least until that year. (9) . One confirmatory indication was missed by Gruys. When Hieron. Commelinus issued his Euripides (Heidelberg, 1597), he included the first publication of the long but spurious Danae fragment (1132 Nauck), dedicated ‘Th. Cantero V.C.’. The fragment does not appear in Dirk's Euripides volume. (10) . From letter 53 in Gruys (n. 5 above), 215, it now appears that the Euripides fragments were not sent to Scaliger until 1598; and letters 56 (p. 222) of 1598 and 71 (265) of 1600 show that Scaliger was sent, and returned, the fragments of Comedy, Epic and Elegiac within those two years. Scaliger's marginalia have the same manner as those he made in copies of the complete plays of Euripides, some of which appeared in Canter's Euripides (Antwerp, 1571): see my CQ 24 (1974) 242–3. Gruys, Correspondence, ix cites from Scaligerana (Amsterdam, 1740) 254 (inaccessible to me): ‘I' ay donné à Canterus mes corrections sur Fragmenta Poetarum’. For the (uneasy) working relationship between Scaliger and Willem see A. Grafton, Joseph Scaliger I (Oxford, 1983) 106. Of the two other parts of Dirk's collection in Oxford, Scaliger annotated the comedians (see below, n. 29), but not the minor tragedians. (11) . Instructions for the printer may be seen on e.g. pp. 6, 470, 550 of the Euripides volume and pp. VI, 1r, 3r, 7v and others of the minor tragedians volume. There are no such instructions visible in the Oxford comedians volume, despite copious work upon it by Schott. For Schott's other preparations of the Euripides volume see Gruys, 300–1. P. de la Ro(u)vière (died ?1626) published at Geneva in 1614 an anthology entitled Poetae Graeci veteres, tragici, comici, lyrici, epigrammatici, and subtitled Additis fragmentis ex probatis authoribus collectis. nunc primum Graece et Latine in unum redactis corpus'. There is no copy of this book in Oxford with which I could compare Dirk's volumes, so that I do not know whether Rouvière did or could have used them, nor, if he did, whether he acknowledged them. The publication of this book almost certainly explains Rouvière's unwillingness to publish Dirk's. (12) . Paris, 1626. On the last unnumbered page of his Preface, Grotius acknowledges the use of Dirk's volumes, and its incompleteness (cited by Gruys, 288, cf. 149–51). (13) . Diatribe (Leiden, 1767) 3. References to Dirk's collection, presumably tralatician, by 18th century scholars are gathered by J.A. Fabricius, Bibliotheca Graeca, ed. G.C. Harles, I4 (Hamburg, 1790) 747 n. yy, cf. II4, (1791) 245 n.o.; subsequently, e.g. A. Meineke, Fragmenta Comicorum Graecorum I (Berlin, 1839) v n. *. (14) . T. Gaisford, Cod. Mss. etc. … d'Orvilliani (Oxford, 1806) 25. (15) . Gruys, 309. F. Madan, Summary Catalogue of Western Mss. in the Bodleian Library IV (Oxford, 1897) 37–8 recorded that ‘the mss. have remained mostly unused’. I have found no reference to the collection in the works of English scholars, including those who worked at Oxford, who might have learned of it from the 1806 catalogue. One might have expected Gaisford himself, and particularly P. Elmsley (1774–1825), a prominent investigator of manuscripts, to have studied it. Elmsley began collecting the fragments of Eupolis and Cratinus (Bodleian Library, Ms. Clarendon Press d. 52. pp. 483–533, undated); whether that was before or after Dirk's collection came to Oxford, he seems not to have known of the already much fuller material in the comedians volume, Ms. d'Orville 123, pp. 605–711.

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Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) (16) Gruys, 299–301. (17) . A Bodleian cataloguer (perhaps Madan: see n. 15) has numbered all the pages in pencil as ‘X + 611’; and on 611 has remarked: ‘really X + 668 p., since some are double, treble or fourfold’. (18) . One possibility: the volumes (or some of them) passed through the hands of G.J. Voss (1577–1649) and his son I. Voss (1618–89): see Gruys, 307. The father aided Grotius during his imprisonment from 1619 to 1621, and contrived his escape; he also at one time owned by purchase much of Scaliger's library and his son annotated some of the books: see e.g. my CQ 24 (1974) 243. (19) . Kassel (n. 1 above), 243–53, esp. 245–50. (20) . M. Neander, Aristologia Euripidea etc. (Basel. 71559); F. Ursinus, Carmina Novem Illustrium Feminarum etc. (Antwerp, 1568) 276–78; G. Ratallerus, Euripidis Tres Tragoediae (Antwerp, 1581) 215, 216, 220, 234, 235 (Rataller was the dedicatee of Dirk Canter's Variae Lectiones (Antwerp, 1574); he was President of the Senate of Utrecht, Dirk's birth-place). (21) . Kassel, 246f., cf. 249f. (22) . I. Casaubon, Animadversiones in Athenaeum (Leiden, 1600) 320–1; (16212) 481–97. On these studies of Casaubon (1550–1614) and Meursius (J. de Meurs, 1579–1639) see Kassel, 243, 247f.; Meursius' book is described in detail by Gruys, 140–5. Meursius was aware of Casaubon's list for Sophocles, but worked independently; Gruys, 334 n. 2, thinks that he did not use Dirk's volumes, despite corresponding with Schott. Meursius gives the Greek text of very few fragments. (23) . I have counted for Dirk and Barnes; the other figures come from H. van Looy, AC 32 (1963) 173–9. (24) . e.g. on p. 8 Aegeus fr. 1 Nauck is illustrated with comparable locutions from the Iliad, Plautus, Mercator, and Horace, Ars Poetica; on p. 282 a variant reading in Meleager fr. 530.4 is discussed; on pp. 433–35 Dirk uses the same passages to illustrate Philoctetes fr. 787 as in his Variae Lectiones I.ii. (25) . Prolegomena to his Aeschyli Tragoediae (Antwerp, 1580, posthumous), cited by MundDopchie, La survie, 244; Prolegomena to his Euripidis Trogoediae (Antwerp, 1571): and (cited by Valckenaer, Diatribe, 3) Novae Lectiones (Antwerp, 1571) VI.23. (26) . Variae Lectiones II.xvii. Scaliger was comparably voracious as a reader; see e.g. R. Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship, 1300–1850 (Oxford, 1976) 115. (27) . I.ii on Philoctetes (cf. n. 24 above), II.v on 6 fragments from Stobaeus, xvi on the famous fragment from Cretes (‘Cressae’ still in Dirk), 472 Nauck. This last chapter, II. xvi, and some others discuss problems in Arnobius, whose Adversus Gentes Dirk printed at Antwerp, 1582. (28) . Cross-references : pp. 433–5 to VL I.ii (n. 24 above), p. 271 to II.xv (Melanippe); p. 435 later than II.v (Philoctetes), p. 465 later than II.xv (Chrysippus).

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Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) (29) . The original article contained on pp. 249–51 an Appendix listing Scaliger's marginal corrections and conjectures in Dirk's Euripides which anticipated later scholars. None of these conjectures, except perhaps the supplement of Πάν (i.e. Πᾶν) = PMediol 1 (and, later, Musgrave) in Telephus F 696.3, approaches in quality the best of Scaliger's conjectures upon the complete plays of Euripides, for which see my CQ 24 (1974) 242–9. Scaliger's hitherto unpublished conjectures in Dirk's Euripides are recorded in R. Kannicht, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta 5: Euripides (Göttingen, 2004): see also his ‘TrGF V Euripides’ in Fragmenta Dramatica, ed. H. Hoffmann (Göttingen, 1991) 67–77 at 72–73. Scaliger's conjectures in Dirk's comedy volumes (in both Oxford and Paris) are being recorded in R. Kassel, C. Austin, Poetae Comic Graeci: see their Vol. V (Berlin, 1986) xxi (‘codices ipsi inspeximus’) and e.g. 240 on Philemon F 23.4, 251 on F 45.2. (32) . Euripidis … Tragoediae … Fragmenta … Epistolae [much shortened title!], (Cambridge, 1694) I: lvi and 330 pp.; II: 529 pp. and 3 indices. See the Index Secundus under his own name and (a small selection) the Commentary on HF 29 (Vol. 11.357, on his King Edward III) and 1424 (II.397, on his friendships), Tro. 1248 (II.169, on his patrons), Melanippe 33 (II.480, an epigram on wives). His own copy, now in the Bodleian Library at Oxford (call-mark Auct. S.1.5), contains on its endpapers many self-important transcriptions and jottings – but also extensive marginalia upon the Fragments: see the main text at the end of my Part II, and Appendix. (33) . See esp. Vol. I.i-iii, xlvii. (34) . R. Bentley, The Works, ed. A. Dyce (London, 1836) I.206–31 (published in 1697, part of the Dissertation … Phalaris), occasioned by Barnes' rejection of Bentley's advice on the spurious Epistles of Euripides (on their ‘authenticity’ see Barnes, I.xxvii and II.523); J. Le Clerc, Bibliothèque choisie (Amsterdam, 1705) VI.241; L.C. Valckenaer, Diatribe (1767) 2, 5, 226–7 etc.; but note B. Heath, Notae sive Lectiones etc. (Oxford, 1762) v: ‘Barnesii, quem, nulla eius meritorum habita ratione, fastidiose proculcare in morem fere abiit’; P. Elmsley, Euripides. Bacchae (Oxford, 1821) Addendum on v. 261 (Barnes' dishonest arrogation of others' conjectures; see also my CQ 24 (1974) 242–4); R. Kannicht, Euripides. Helena (Heidelberg, 1969) I.118–19; cf. his TrGF 5: Euripides (n. 29 above) 75. (35) . I.lv. (36) . The same charge could in fact be levelled at Dirk Canter, who similarly failed to collect other fragments from Stobaeus, perhaps because of his reliance upon Gesner's edition. (37) . e.g. II.473, on his Ino 72–9 being in fact Ion 621–8. (38) . Diatribe, 22–4, cf. e.g. 70, 165, 226–7; a summary also by H. van Looy (n. 23 above) 171–2. Bentley's plan: Epistola ad Millium (Oxford, 1691) 20, cited by Valckenaer, 3. Bentley's work on Callimachus was done in the years 1694–6, and published by J.G. Graevius at Utrecht in 1697 in his (deceased) son T.J.G.F. Graevius' Callimachus: see R. Pfeiffer, Callimachus II (Oxford, 1949) xlv n. 3. (39) . II.442. (40) . Frs. 773, 781 Nauck, cf. Nauck's pp. 599–600; see now J. Diggle, Euripides. Phaethon (Cambridge, 1970) 33.

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Two Early Collectors of Euripidean Fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712) (41) . T. Stanley (?1626–87), Aeschyli Tragoediae etc. (London. 1663); at the end of his Preface Stanley says simply ‘fragmenta collegimus’. When S. Butler re-edited and amplified Stanley's Aeschylus (8 vols, Cambridge, 1809–16), he reprinted an exchange of letters between Stanley and I. Voss, and J.G. Graevius, vol. 8 (1816) xvi-xx: Voss, whose father bought at least some of Dirk Canter's volumes (see n. 18 above), mentions them, but it is not clear whether Aeschylus was among them. As for the remaining tragic fragments, those of Sophocles were not ‘collected’ and printed with any attempt at completeness until R. Brunck, Sophoclis Tragoediae etc. (Strasburg. 1786) (but see S.L. Radt, TrGF IV (Göttingen, 1977) 9–13, for a now lost collection made by Valckenaer and used by Brunck); those of the minor tragedians and the adespota appear to have been published for the first time by F.A. Wagner, Poetarum Graecorum Fragmenta (Paris, 1846). (42) . II.504. (43) . Diatribe, 205–8. (44) . I find at least the following textual corrections or conjectures all recorded and most accepted by Nauck: Alexandros fr. 58.2; Dictys fr. 347; Theseus fr. 384.3; Cresphontes frs 454–58; Pleisthenes fr. 630; Phaethon fr. 772 = 6–7 Diggle, fr. 774.3 = 126 Diggle; frs 943.1, 981.1, 1131.3. In Dictys fr. 347 and Phaethon fr. 772 Barnes joined separately cited lines into one fragment, without comment. (45) . I have not yet encountered anything to suggest that Barnes had real hopes of publishing a revised edition of his Euripides – indeed, he had difficulty enough in publishing and selling his Homer (1710–11). (46) . This fact alone justifies e.g. R. Pfeiffer, History (n. 26 above), 144, when he names Barnes together with e.g. J. Pearson and T. Stanley (n. 41 above) as British ‘scholars of considerable achievement’ in the 17th and 18th centuries. R.D. Dawe in W.W. Briggs, W.M. Calder III, Classical Scholarship. A Biographical Encyclopedia (New York and London, 1990) counted 167 corrections and conjectures in Euripides by Barnes. It is incidentally worth note that all subsequent editions of Euripides have adopted his numbering of the lines (his innovation).

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Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0015

Abstract and Keywords This paper, written to mark the bicentenary of Markland's death, assesses the life and achievement of a remarkable scholar, ‘the only (English) one except Bentley who has been highly and equally eminent in Greek and Latin’ (A.E. Housman). Markland was a Fellow of Peterhouse Cambridge from 1718; although absent for long periods as a private tutor in a wealthy family, he produced the edition of Statius’ Silvae which made his name throughout Europe. From 1744 he lived in rural seclusion and near poverty, but from 1763 published the first important annotated individual editions of Euripides’ Suppliants and two Iphigenia-plays; he turned more and more to Greek studies and contributed widely to other men's learned editions. Keywords:   Markland, Statius, Euripides, Greek and Latin scholarship

Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 22 (1976) 1–13 ‘It is probable that Englishmen are right in counting Porson the second of English scholars, but many judges on the Continent would give that rank to Markland. He is the only one except Bentley who has been highly and equally eminent in Greek and Latin; and I believe that Bentley did him the honour, extravagant I admit, to be jealous of him.’ No judgement of Markland's scholarship will be better founded than this, written by A.E. Housman in 1920.2 The surmise of Bentley's jealousy gives it special colour, but there is little record of what passed between the two men. In 1718 Markland, then a newly elected Fellow of Peterhouse, represented the Regent Masters when the Caput of the University voted to deprive Bentley of his degrees. It is not known whether Markland himself thought Bentley's conduct contumelious,3 and within a few years, when Markland published his first book, he was writing with proper deference to the age's greatest scholar. The book was his Epistola critica: ad … Franciscum Hare … in qua Horatii loca aliquot et aliorum veterum emendantur (1723); Bentley had edited Horace in 1711.4 Not long after the Epistola, Bentley wrote Markland a letter criticising some trial sheets of an edition of Apuleius, which was enough to stop the project short.5 While Markland was always very sensitive, in his youth he would not have been so hurt Page 1 of 12

Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 by this as he might in age and perhaps bowed simply to Bentley's eminence. Nor might Bentley have meant to injure a rising scholar – or respected acquaintance: during Bentley's last years in the Master's lodge at Trinity, till his death in 1742, Markland was one of the few outsiders he regularly welcomed for conversation.6 (p.214) Markland's time in Cambridge overlapped Bentley's by more than 30 years; in 1744, two years after Bentley's death, he went out of residence at Peterhouse and seems never to have returned during his remaining 32 years of life. His letters show he took no part in the election of Dr Keene as Master in 1748, even by correspondence, although he was by then Senior Fellow. He was probably also silent during the next Magisterial election, of Dr Law in 1754, but a College Minute of 1757 instructs that ‘Mr Markland have satisfaction made for any damage to his chamber’ caused by the resiting of a nearby clock.7 Born on October 29, 1693, Markland entered the University in 1710, from Christ's Hospital,8 becoming M.A. and Fellow of Peterhouse in 1717. There he published the Epistola of 1723 and, in 1728, the largest and perhaps most important of his books, his edition with commentary of [[2]] Statius' Silvae. Using only printed sources, he claimed to have healed all but 40 of some 500 places in the Silvae previously unintelligible; this was untypical immodesty, but the brilliance and suggestive power of his conjectures are shown by their frequency in modern apparatus critici.9 That same year, Markland went to be tutor to the young son of William Strode, of Punsborn in Hertfordshire: only the fact, not Markland's reason, is recorded. Probably his disinclination for public life, which later drove him to complete withdrawal, was already growing. From 1730–2 he was on the continent with Strode, chiefly in Languedoc and Holland (where he met d'Orville). Illness – he was to become a chronic invalid – brought him back to the Strodes' London house.10 Until 1744 he lived mostly at Peterhouse, with spells in London, Twyford and Winchester. These years produced the critical studies which secured his fame: major contributions of notes to J. Taylor's Lysias (1739), to the second edition of J. Davies's Maximus Tyrius (1740)11 and S. Squire's Plutarch's ‘De Iside et Osiride’ (1744)12; and his own Remarks on the Epistles of Cicero to Brutus, and of Brutus to Cicero: in a Letter to a Friend. With a dissertation upon four Orations ascribed to M. Tullius Cicero … attempting to prove them all spurious and the work of some Sophist (1745).13 From 1744–52 Markland was tutor to the son of his former pupil Strode, at Uckfield in Sussex. In these years he wrote little except notes and contributions to other men's books or pamphlets: his intended publications, such as completion of Statius (promised in the Praefatio to his Silvae of 1728 and hinted still in a letter of 1746), came to nothing. It was at Uckfield, however, that he first turned to Euripides, the author on whom he concentrated in retirement; by 1751 he was telling a friend of ‘some progress’.14 Markland's energy to write ebbed as he felt infirmity setting in, or the gout that tormented him for the rest of his life. Perhaps, however, the cause (p.215) lay deeper, in his own person, in some dissatisfaction with the public world that determined him, when his pupil Strode was of age, to withdraw from all but a very few friends. In 1752 he moved to lodgings in the hamlet of Milton, two miles from Dorking in Surrey; ‘by this time being grown old, and having moreover long and painful annual fits of the gout, he was glad to find what the inclination and infirmities, which made him unfit for the world, and for company, had for a long time led him to, a very

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Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 private place of retirement … as much out of the way of hearing as of getting’: so Markland wrote of himself, adding ‘of this last I have now no desire; the other I should be glad of.’15 Despite seclusion and recurrent ill-health, substantial works of textual criticism from Markland's pen were published during his first 15 to 20 [[3]] years at Milton, some of them at the insistence of friends, some of them against his own judgement: notes on Euripides' Hippolytus, communicated by a friend to Samuel Musgrave for his 1756 edition of the play, with Markland's name on the title page ‘without his knowledge and very contrary to his inclination’;16 help given to W. Bowyer's edition of Sophocles (1758); a brief treatise on the Greek athematic nouns and their relation to the Latin ‘Third’ Declension, with critical notes on some places in Greek and Latin authors (limited private edition, of 40 copies, at the expense of his friend W. Hall, 1760; reprinted 1763 and bound with the next book); edition, with translation and extensive critical commentary, of Euripides' Supplices (1763, only 250 copies; published anonymously, at the expense of Markland's friend, the well-known London physician W. Heberden, the proofs being read by Jortin; revised 1768 but reprinted, under Markland's name, only in 1775);17 a briefer edition of the two Iphigenias (finished 1768, printed 1771, also paid by Heberden): notes contributed to W. Bowyer's Conjectures on the New Testament (Markland's notes were printed anonymously in the second edition of 1772, but acknowledged in the third of 1782, after his death).18 By 1770 Markland's health had so worsened that he burned all his notes and determined to dispose of his books. There were other troubles. In 1765–7 he had sold some stock to pay the legal expenses of the widow with whom he lodged at Milton, a Mrs Martha Rose, in an unsuccessful suit she brought against her son after he had forced her to assign almost the whole of her property to him. For a time the loss hit hard: the household was excluded from the garden (Markland valued it for his exercise) and its produce, and deprived even of things like kitchen utensils, so that in 1767 Markland was ill with scurvy. For the rest of his life Markland gave the small annual stipend from his Peterhouse fellowship, and the product of (p.216) regular sales of investments, to the general maintenance of Mrs Rose and her family, together with whatever gifts of money friends or admirers could persuade him to accept, for example a pension of £100 a year from his pupil Strode. His friends were anxious to rid him of concern for the widow, even by moving him from Milton, but he stayed obstinately there. A fever killed him on July 7, 1776, in his 83rd year. His will left his few remaining books and papers to Heberden and all else to Mrs Rose. An epitaph was composed by Heberden and made on brass at the expense of Strode, for Dorking Parish Church, where he was buried; its unassuming tribute was reproduced, together with a portrait of Markland, by Nichols.19 In an age when learned men were ordinary conversation, and Classical studies the frequent way to Dean Gaisford's ‘positions of considerable [[4]] emolument’, Markland's indifference to fame or advancement was his friends' and well-wishers' despair. His scholarship was widely recognised, in England among literary and ecclesiastical figures and through the admiring report of some important friends, on the continent for its quality alone. Twice he resisted pressure to be a candidate for the Regius Chair of Greek at Cambridge, when there were vacancies in 1744 and 1750.20 His lungs, he once said, were too weak for public speaking; this made him shy of lecturing, but it also prevented him in conscience from taking Holy Orders: so he missed the easiest chance of preferment or patronage. His scruples, or his natural disinclination for advancement, however, were not understood. Dr Johnson pronounced bluntly on him: ‘I remember,’ writes Mrs Piozzi, ‘when lamentation was made of the neglect shewed to Jeremiah Markland, a great philologist as some ventured to call him, “He is a scholar

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Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 undoubtedly, Sir (replied Dr. Johnson), but remember that he would run from the world, and that it is not the world's business to run after him”.’21 Before his retirement to Milton in 1752, Markland was free in publishing his own work and in contributing selflessly to other men's books; some even borrowed his name without permission to distinguish their title pages.22 After his retirement he doubted his critical powers increasingly, and a general pessimism oppressed him. He was reluctant to acknowledge what others published for him. He kept his name from the first edition of Supplices; he gave his edition of the Iphigenias to Heberden ‘arbitratu eius vel cremandae, vel in publicum emittendae post obitum scriptoris’ and was persuaded to allow publication in his lifetime, with his name on the book, only if Heberden would recover the cost of printing from the sale. He was gloomy not only about the prospect for Classical studies but about the whole direction of English politics. He wrote in a copy of his Supplices of 1768 ‘Probably it will be a long time (if ever) before this sort of learning will (p.217) revive in England; in which it is easy to foresee that there must be a disturbance in a few years, and all public disorders are enemies to this sort of literature’.23 This in the mid-1760s, and Markland was later alarmed and despondent about the events in England and the American Colonies which led to the Declaration of Independence. Maridand's illness and growing incapacitation from old age preoccupied him, inevitably for one so solitary. He knew self-pity, but tried to overcome it. ‘Nothing can befall a man but what is to his advantage, if he pleases; and more cannot be desired’ he wrote in 1771 to Bowyer, then confined to bed with dropsy and the stone; a year later he was writing ‘as to myself, I am of opinion, that the gout and piles are not destroyers, but remedies’ – he attributed his own longevity in part to them, as some kind [[5]] of protection against worse. Nichols's biography, and Markland's own letters, detail painful and recurring afflictions of great variety, which made his last 30 years very hard. He endured the ordinary failings of old age – in sight, hearing and nervous control – so that in his 80th year he compared himself to an infant, with milk as his chief sustenance, ‘not to mention other infirmities, among which I must very poetically mention one, madidique infantia nasi’.24 If he had let it matter, his old age might have had the comfort at least of his solid reputation. After his death considered comparisons with other scholars could be offered; before it, few depreciated him. For the ambitious Richard Hurd, commentator of Horace's Epistles, protégé of the great Bishop Warburton, friend of royalty and later twice a bishop, there was a descent ‘by a gradation of many steps’ from Toup to Markland; Hurd was criticising the Supplices of 1763, particularly its exegetical notes, where he accuses Markland of ‘confounding himself by his obscure diligence’.25 Toup had published the first edition of his Emendationes in Suidam during 1760–6, and Markland's opinion of this work contrasts interestingly with Hurd's of himself:26 This would have been an excellent performance had it been carried on with the same judgement in all its parts, as it is with skill in some. His confidence, especially in conjecturing in passages of scripture, shews that he is but a young critic, as does likewise his speaking so disobligingly of learned men, and so vauntingly of himself. Time will correct all these things. The Dutch scholar Wyttenbach, in a review of Toup's Longinus (1778), drew a contrast like that of Hurd between Toup's conjectural flair and Markland's sometimes more penetrating because more methodical criticism.27 For another European judge, of even greater eminence, the (p. 218) contrast was rather with the brilliance of Bentley: Wolf, in his warmly sympathetic memoir

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Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 of Markland, quotes with approval a remark of Ruhnken, ‘criticus qui nescias utrum sit ingenio aut doctrina excellentior, an humanitate, moderatione animi et candore amabilior’.28 In Britain Markland's stature was guaranteed by his inclusion in Charles Burney's ‘Pleiad’ of 18th century Classical scholars: Bentley, Dawes, Markland, Taylor, Toup, Tyrwhitt and Porson.29 Elmsley suggested that Musgrave might have been substituted for one of the Seven, and even Burney himself ‘were it not for the unfortunate circumstance of his being still alive’.30 But he did not dissent from Markland's inclusion, giving a very impartial account of his literary character, for example:31 … it is not our intention to assert that Markland was a man of genius, or that he possessed a very vigorous understanding … he was endowed with a respectable portion of judgement and sagacity … For modesty, candour, literary honesty and courteousness to other scholars, he is justly [[6]] considered as the model which ought to be proposed for the imitation of every critic. Gifted as he was, we are not aware he could have applied his faculties to any object, with more credit to himself and more advantage to others, than to the cultivation of ancient literature … Others in England esteemed Markland even more than Elmsley, as much as Housman in the passage quoted at the head of this paper. ‘Porson thought so highly of him as a scholar that “he went to see the house at Dorking, where he spent his later years and where he died”.’32 Monk, Porson's successor in the Regius chair of Greek at Cambridge and co-editor of his Adversaria, echoed his opinion: ‘Markland … in the opinion of some takes his rank in the class after Bentley; upon whose model his critical taste and skill were formed’.33 I end by attempting some description of Markland's quality as a critic that gained him the respect of Porson and Housman. What books survive with his annotation reveal little of his working methods. They span his life but the marginalia seldom go beyond the mere record of corrections or conjectures, signalled, by ‘f(ortasse)’, ‘l(ege)’ and the like.34 Fortunately, he has left a statement of his editorial ‘philosophy’ in the Praefatio to his Statius; while he wrote there with a confidence he later lost, the critical style of all his published work, even the latest, is consistent with this early account. He emphasises some particular kinds of manuscript error: mechanical corruptions arising from the collocation of words ending and beginning (p.219) with identical letters, or induced by similarities in the ductus litterarum; substitutions, or trivialisations, by scribes too hasty to weigh variant readings in their concern only to preserve metre or the elegance of their transcripts;35 adjustments by subsequent copyists to contexts thus impaired. He deplores editors' tendency to defend and perpetuate corrupt or bad readings simply because they are transmitted and ancient, in preference to new and good readings found by conjecture, continuing (p. xiii) ‘quid enim refert a qua parte veniat, modo venerit, Veritas? eadem est Dea, sive a me et Cruceo, sive ab Heinsio et Gronovio in lucem proferatur’ – but adding ‘… non tamen mihi in hac parte conjecturali, quae cuique maxime adblanditur, semper indulsi’. Recapitulating, he insists on restraint and honesty in criticism (including the frank admission of inability to understand, let alone cure, intractable passages): In summa; si quid in his rebus certi fuit, paene ausim in me recipere et praestare, Te iam legere posse Stati Silvas plus quam ter centum locis restitutas ex conjectura; partim sensu praeeunte ac necessario postulante has emendationes, partim literis et calami ductibus ad Page 5 of 12

Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 veras lectiones ducentibus: adeo ut jam non restent quadraginta de quibus desperem. [[7]] Juveniliter nimis dictum hoc tibi forte videbitur: spondeo, dictum esse citra affectationem aut jactantiam: quarum occasiones, ut mihi videtur, ab his studiis longissime excluduntur. (p. xix f.) Markland's conjectures recorded in the apparatus of modern critical editions match in character – and number – the approach he describes in this Praefatio. They show a marvellous familiarity with, and sensitivity to, language and idiom, in both Greek and Latin; but Markland was equally sensitive to individuality of style, either of an author or of a literary genre; his nice observation of copyists' proclivities is the more remarkable because he very seldom used manuscript sources first-hand – for his editions of Euripides, for example, he relied on collations of Parisian mss provided by Musgrave. The majority of his conjectures, therefore, are small but acute corrections of grammar, syntax or idiom, as numerous and incontrovertible as those by any editor before or after him; those in Greek naturally outnumber those in Latin, like restoration or right distinction of the particles, connective, emphatic or modal, of the verbal moods, indicative, subjunctive or optative, of present, future or aorist forms, finite and non-finite, or of articles, pronouns and demonstratives. His more ambitious conjectures, on the other hand, are proportionately more numerous in Latin than Greek; they have a contextual or ‘diagnostic’ plausibility which lifts (p.220) him from the ordinary class of critic, if they seldom show the intuitive brilliance of a Scaliger or Bentley. His contemporaries in Greek scholarship, like Dawes, Musgrave, Taylor, Toup or Tyrwhitt, have been more highly esteemed at times – and by editors of individual authors – because they appear to go beyond him in pure cleverness – but none of them matched Markland in breadth of learning and its considered application, or in the sheer number of faults he corrected, not only in Greek but also in Latin. A selection of conjectures may illustrate Markland's accuracy in language and idiom, his sense of context and style and his concern to satisfy the mechanical or psychological processes of manuscript corruption: Eur. Hipp. 993 ὡς διαφθερῶν | οὐκ ἀντιλέξοντα M(ar) k(land): ‘Theseus’ expectation in making his attack. With the ms. κοὐκ he framed that expectation to himself as διαφθερῶ αὐτὸν καὶ οὐκ ἀντιλέξει (“and he won't reply”), with Markland's οὐκ as διαφθερῶ αὐτὸν οὐκ ἀντιλέξοντα (“without his being able to reply”); the second is so obviously superior that no mss will induce me to believe that Euripides preferred the first' (Barrett ad loc.); 1012 μάταιος ἆρ᾽ ἦν, οὐδαμοῦ μὲν οὖν φρενῶν Mk., noting schol. ‘οὐδαμοῦ συνέσεως ἦν’: ~ φρονῶν mss; 1289 ἔσχ 〈εθ〉 ες Mk., metr. gr. (anapaests); LA 77 καθ᾽ Ἑ λλάδ᾽ οἰστρήσαςδρόμῳ Mk. (Menelaus' frenzied search for revenge on Paris): ~ μόρῳ ms. L; [[8]] 309 ἄλλοις ἁμιλλῶ ταῦτα Mk. (with ἄλλοις, ‘generalising’ plural, the Old Man tells Menelaus to ‘fight that out with some else’, i.e. Agamemnon): ~ ἄλλως ms. L; 416 ἣν Ἰ φιγένειανὠνόμαζες ἐν δόμοις Mk.: ~ ὠνόμαξας ms. L (compare Markland's firm rejection of ms. ὠνόμαζεν in favour of Jortin's ὀνομάσουσιν at Hipp. 33); 909 πρὸς γενειάδος 〈σε〉, πρός σε δεξιᾶς, πρός μητέρος Mk., restoring the enclitics to the elliptical idiom of entreaty: ~ πρὸς σῆς δεξιᾶς ms. L; 1514 sq. (locus incertissimus) βωμόν γε δαίμονος θεᾶς ῥανίσιν αἱμορρύτοις ῥανοῦσαν Mk.: ~ βωμόν γε δαίμονος θεᾶς ῥανίσιν αἱμορρύτοις θανοῦσαν ms. L (Markland's ῥανοῦσαν opened the way for Monk's χρανοῦσαν); IT 1404 sq. γυμνὰς ἐκ 〈πέπλων〉 ἐπωμίδας | κώπῃ προσαρμόσαντες in spatio vacuo suppl. Mk; 1471 sq. καὶ νόμισμ᾽ ἔσται τόδε, | νικᾶν ἰσήρεις ὅστις ἂν ψήφους λάβῃ Mk.: ~ καὶ νόμισμ᾽ εἰς ταὖτό γε | νικᾶν ms. L (Platnauer ad loc. remarks that Markland's correction obviates the supposition of lacuna);36

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Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 Lysias 2.35 ὑπὲρ τῶν ἄθλων τῶν ἐν Σαλαμῖνι; οἷ ς τοσοῦτον κτλ. Mk. : ~ Σαλαμῖνι (vel Σαλαμινίοις) τοσοῦτον mss.; 4.7 ἀδήλου ὄντος εἰ παρὰ τούτῳ εὑρήσομεν ὄστρακον ἢ ὅτῳ (Mk. : οὕτως mss.) αὐτὸν ἀποκτενοῦμεν; 8.4 οὐδ᾽ ἄν ὑμῖν ἐπικαλῶν, ὅ τι ἐλέγετε κατ᾽ ἐμοῦ, ταῦτα λέξαιμι Mk.: ~ ταῦτα δόξαιμι mss.; 9.21 παραχθεὶς (Mk: πραχθεὶς mss.) δὲ ὑπὸ τῶνδε εἰ ἀδίκως ἁλοίην; 12.52 εἰ γὰρ ὑπὲρ τῶν ἀδικουμένων ἐστασίαζον, ποῦ κάλλιον ἦν ἀνδρὶ (p.221) ἄρχοντι, ἢ Θρασυβούλου Φυλὴν κατειληφότος, τότε ἐπιδείξασθαι τὴν αὑτοῦ εὔνοιαν Mk.: ~ τὴν αὑτοῦ συνουσίαν mss.; Cicero De Domo Sua 117 opus enim erat auctoritate Mk.: posuerat enim auctoritatem mss. (opus erat enim auctoritate L. Spengel); 137 tu, procella patriae, turbo ac tempestas pacis atque oti, quod in naufragio rei publicae … religione omni violata religionis (Mk.: rei mss. PB, rei p. mss. k et corr. c) tamen nomine contaminaris …; Propertius 4.1.120 incipe tu lacrimis aequus adesse tuis Mk.: adesse novis mss.;37 Statius Silvae 4A46 sq. longamque tibi, dux (Mk.: rex mss.: of Domitian!) magne, iuventam | annuit atque suos promisit Iuppiter annos; 5.2.117 si qua fides dictis, stupui Martemque putavi Mk.: armatumque putavi mss. (the poet compares the extraordinary vigor … promptaeque ad fiortia vires of Crispinus riding on the Campus Martius to that of Mars himself: vv. 109–24);38 Juvenal 8.258, 11.99, 161 seclusit, 13.166 in suspicionem vocavit Mk.39 The lasting measure of Markland's work, however, is something more than his name's prominence in apparatus critici to not a few authors, Euripides, Lysias, Plutarch and Maximus in Greek, Propertius, Statius and Juvenal in Latin, and its occasional appearance in some others he emended in passing, like Sophocles, Demosthenes, Cicero, Tibullus, Horace or Virgil.40 His was ‘classic’ philology, text-critical in the narrow sense, only in the Commentaries on Silvae and Supplices ranging outside [[9]] what was needed to illustrate or substantiate a grammatical or stylistic context. Markland knew the limits of his competence or curiosity for Realien; his attack on the genuineness of the Ciceronian speeches Post Reditum took him furthest outside his comfortable boundaries and here, perhaps, besides the difference in flair, he least stands comparison with Bentley's Epistola … ad Millium or Dissertation on the Epistles of Phalaris and Porson's Letters to … Travis. To assess Markland's excellence within his limits, against that of other great critics, is very difficult; I began this paper by quoting such a judgement, from A.E. Housman, and I end it with a more recent opinion, which seems to me not less right, from a paper by J.A. Willis, to which I have already referred:41 What makes a good critic, or rather what is indispensable to a good critic, is that prompta et accurata scientia, as Ernesti called it, of Latin poetical language which can only be gained by reading and rereading the Latin poets. … This has been the achievement of but a few men: Heinsius, Bentley, and who is the third? Markland and Housman, much as their minds and characters differed, perhaps come nearest to them.

(p.222) Notes (p.223)

Endnote 2006 Some supplementary matter: [p. 214 above] William Hogarth's painting The Strode Family hangs in the National Gallery, London; it was paited not long before the birth of the younger William Strode's first son in 1738, the boy whom Markland tutored from 1744–52.

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Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 [p. 220 above] At IA 309 Markland's ἄλλοις has been confirmed by PKöln 67. [n. 1] Nichols's long portrayal of Markland was condensed in John Nichols. Literary Anecdotes ed. C. Clair (London, 1967) 220–33. The most detailed recent appreciation is by C.O. Brink, English Classical Scholarship (Cambridge, 1986) 84–9, 209. I wrote the brief entry for Markland in the Dictionary of British Classicists (Bristol, 2004) 2.629–30. The brief entry for him in the old Dictionary of National Biography 36 (1893) 176–7, by C.W. Sutton, was largely factual: its revision by M.J. Mercer in the Oxford DNB 36.704–5 improved it chiefly by listing wider manuscript sources. [n. 2] Housman's opinion was approved by H. Lloyd-Jones in his edition of Wilamowitz' History (London, 1982) 83 n. 331. [n. 11] Cf. M.B. Trapp (tr.), Maximus of Tyre. The Philosophical Orations (Oxford, 1997) lxxxvi f. ‘… notes contributed by Jeremiah Markland, which have a good claim to being the single most significant contribution to the textual criticism of the Orations ever published’; and (ed.) Maximi Tyrii Dissertationes (Leipzig, 1994) XLVIII, with reference to Markland's manuscript notes in his copy of Davies's 1st edn. of 1703, now in the British Library. [n. 13] See also T. Maskowski (ed.), Cicero. OrationespostReditum (Leipzig, 1981) v. [n. 30] Page's paper was published in PBA 45 (1959) 221–36; see 225 there. (p.228) [n. 34] In 1976 I should have mentioned Markland's unpublished notes upon Ausonius: see J. Willis, RhM 99 (1956) 284–8. Cf. also on my n. 38 below. [n. 36] I have not counted the figures in J. Diggle's OCT; but of the individual references given only IA 401 is not put in the main text and only 1459 not recorded at all. [n. 38] R. Coleman, CR 41 (1991) 335, reviewing E. Courtney's OCT of Silvae (1990), endorsed Willis's complaint that ignorance of Markland's Statius is still widespread; but before R. Coleman there were high opinions by H.J. Van Dam, Statius. Silvae Book II (Leiden, 1984) 11 and K.M. Coleman, Statius. Silvae IV (Oxford, 1988) xxxiii. Although J.B. Hall, ICS 17 (1992) 76–7 revealed some further unpublished conjectures by Markland made in his own copy of Gronovius' Statius of 1637 (now in the British Library), Markland still got only brief mention in D.R. Shackleton Bailey's Loeb edn of the Silvae, 2 vols (1998–2002) at I.8. Notes: (1) . This bicentenary commemoration of Markland's death gave me particular pleasure to write as a member of Markland's own College. It is even more pleasant – and happily appropriate – to record my thanks to two other Petreans whose comments in draft greatly helped me, Prof. E.J. Kenney and Dr N.M. Horsfall. I am also grateful to Dr J. Diggle for further improvements. The fullest biographical account of Markland is by J. Nichols, Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century, IV (1812) 272–362 (315–6 two letters of Markland to his friend, fellow scholar and publisher W. Bowyer), 480–3, 657–61; VII (1813) 249–52. Some scattered notices of his death appeared in Gentleman's Magazine 46–9 (1776–9). The biographical matter in later notes derives, sometimes inaccurately, from Nichols: see (apart from Gelehrten-lexica') esp. F.A. Wolf, Literarische Analekten (1816) II.370–91 (=Kl. Schriften, herausg. G. Bernhardy (1869) 1096–110); P. Elmsley, Quarterly Review xiv (18193) 441–3 (part of a review of Markland's

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Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 Supplices; reprinted in Euripidis Supplices et Iphigenia in Aulide et in Tauris, cum annotationibus Marklandi, Porsoni … et aliorum (Leipzig, 1822) 1.206–8); J.E. Sandys, History of Classical Scholarship II (1908) 413f.; M.L. Clarke, Greek Studies in England (1945) 50–2. Some letters of Markland to the Dutch scholar J.P. d'Orville, written between 1732 and 1738, were printed in the 1822 reissue of his Euripides (above) 1.332–40. The fullest published list of Markland's writings is the entry under his name in the Catalogue of the British Library; the Library holds about 40 books once owned by Markland and annotated by him. [[10]] (2) . CR 34 (1920) 111 (=Classical Papers 1005), a review of I. By water's posthumously published inaugural lecture at Oxford, Four Centuries of Greek Learning in England (1919). One continental judge at least, of equal authority with Housman, did not share his opinion of Markland: Wilamowitz, Geschichte der Philologie (19273) 37; cf. n. 38 below. (3) . See J.H. Monk, Life of Richard Bentley (18332) II.59f. (4) . Bentley's copy of Markland's Epistola is in the British Library; his annotations are tersely firm, in praise or censure. In the Praefatio to his Statius (1728), Markland records that Bentley and others passed their comments on his Epistola to him in a friendly way (‘… comiter monuerunt’). (5) . Nichols IV.275. (6) . Monk, Life of Bentley II.400. (7) . T.A. Walker, Peterhouse (1935) 15. (8) . Prof. Kenney tells me that when Christ's Hospital moved from London to Horsham at the beginning of the twentieth century, the school was reorganized on conventional public school lines into Houses instead of the old numbered Wards; and search was made for suitably distinguished Old Blues to serve as eponyms. One of the choices was Joshua Barnes, Regius Professor of Greek at Cambridge in the generation before Markland, whose fame rests on his self-important and dishonest edition of Euripides and whom Bentley despised (p. 211–12). ‘Remarkable and deplorable’ (says Prof. Kenney) that Barnes should be preferred to Markland – but typical of both men's fortune, in life and death. (9) . For Markland's Statins (the Praefatio contains his most confident statement on criticism) see above p. 220–221 and esp. n. 38. (10) . Letter to d'Orville of September 1732; Markland was thus prevented from meeting the elder Burman and Drakenborch. (11) . In a preface to his Notes, Markland tried to show that Maximus had himself made two editions of his book, which had been conflated in the ms. tradition. The argument won him some brief glory, but has long been discounted (H. Hobein, Maximus Tyrius (Bibl. Teubn., 1910) lxiii). (12) . ‘Squire showed not a little acumen in dealing with the text and incorporating comments by the illustrious J. Markland’: J. Gwyn Griffiths, Plutarch: de Iside et Osiride (1970) 3. For Markland's ‘second thoughts’ on the treatise, written in his copy of Squire, see W.C. Helmbold, CPh 52 (1957) 104–6.

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Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 (13) . Markland's challenge to the genuineness of Cicero's four speeches Post Reditum was supported by F.A. Wolf in his edition of them (1801). The controversy was stilled only in the twentieth century; for its history see R.G. Nisbet, Cicero: de domo sua (1939) xxix ff; J.O. Lenaghan, Commentary … de haruspicum response (1969) 38ff. (14) . Letter to Rev. W. Clarke, September 1751, quoted by Nichols IY.284. (15) . Quoted by Nichols IY.284. (16) . Markland wrote this in his copy, now in the British Library. Musgrave reprinted Markland's notes, together with his own, in his complete Euripides of 1778,1.489–504. (17) . The Dedicatio of Supplices exemplifies well Markland's selfless belief in the merit of Classical studies. He dedicated the book to two contemporary Dutch scholars, Hemsterhuys and Wesseling, [[11]] ‘in observantiae … non fictae, verique affectus testimonium, ab extero homine, et vobis ignoto, profectum’; the theme of his praise of these and other Dutch scholars, and of the whole Dedicatio, is ‘enimvero res absurda est eruditio sine bonis moribus’ (p. iv). (18) . Throughout his life – typically of his times (see E.J. Kenney, The Classical Text (1974) 99f.) – Markland was concerned with the purity of the Greek text of the New Testament. His notes on Lysias and Maximus Tyrius are specially full of observations on, or parallels from, it. (19) . IV.309, and Frontispiece (F.A. Wolf commented on Markland's facial likeness to his contemporary J.M. Gesner, the famous German scholar). Nichols prints also an orotund Latin epitaph by the Rev. Edward Clarke, from Evening Post of July 24, 1776; both pieces recur in Gentleman's Magazine 47 (1777) 433. (20) . See his letters, Nichols IV.278, 283; cf. Clarke, Greek Studies 29. (21) . Anecdotes of Dr Johnson, ed. S.C. Roberts (1925) 161 = ed. A. Sherbo (1974) 143. When Markland was dead, and Nichols published the first edition of his Literary Anecdotes, Johnson asked him ‘I wish you would obtain fuller information of Jortin, Markland and Thirlby: they were three contemporaries of great learning’ (Letters of Samuel Johnson, ed. R.W. Chapman (1952) 11.514, no. 812, of October 1782; cf. Nichols IV.313). (22) . In his copy of T. Mangey's Philo Judaeus (1742), which proclaims its constant debt to Markland's advice and judgement as Academiae Cantabrigiensis decus egregium, et in re critica facile princeps', he wrote ‘ne unam quidem paginam huius operis vidi antequam totum publicaretur’. (23) . The book is now in the Perne Library at Peterhouse. Markland seems to have contemplated two very different revisions of his Supplices; the second edition printed in 1775 relies on his corrections to the Peterhouse copy, but in another copy now in the British Library Markland pared his Commentary to a skeleton, deleting ‘pleraque quae ad contextus integritatem minus spectare videri poterant, ut brevitati consulerem’. (24) . Juvenal 10.199; letter to Bowyer, December 1773 (Nichols IV.304). (25) . Letter to Warburton, reprinted by Nichols IV.289f. and in the 1822 reissue of Supplices 1.13If. Hurd, further: ‘after all, I believe the author is a good man, and a learned; but a miserable instance of a man of slender parts and sense, besotted by a fondness for his own

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Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 peculiar study, and stupified by an intense application to the minutiae of it.’ Elmsley, Quarterly Review 441 condemned these remarks as a caricature. For the friendship between Warburton and Hurd see M. Pattison, Collected Essays (1908) II.87ff. and for the deficiencies in Warburton's scholarship that led him to 'a very poor opinion of both Markland's and Taylor's critical abilities' ibid. 109. (26) . Written by Markland in his copy of Toup's Suidas, at the start of its second part (1764); the text has many similar annotations. (27) . Bibliotheca Critica 1.3 (1778) 39; reprinted in his Life of Ruhnken (Opuscula I.729f.), where Wyttenbach gives Ruhnken middle place between Toup and Markland. (28) . Wolf, Lit. Analekten 11.389 (=Kl. Schriften 1109); D. Ruhnken, Praefatio adHesychii Albertini tomum alterum (1766) 35. (29) . Preface to his Tentamen de Metris ab Aeschylo in Choricis Cantibus adhibitis (1809). Burney acquired many of Markland's books, which later passed to the British Library. (30) . Quarterly Review 441. Markland is ranked well below Toup and Dawes, alongside the others in Burney's Pleiad (Bentley and Porson excepted!), by D.L. Page, Richard Porson (1959) 5; cf. Bywater, Four centuries 17. (31) . Quoted in part by Sandys 11.414. (32) . Recollections of the Table-talk of Samuel Rogers, ed. A. Dyce, and Porsoniana, ed. W. Maltby (1856) 323. The visit to Dorking is nowadays not so inspiring: the house has been converted into offices. (33) . Life of Bentley 11.59. (34) . Of his books in the British Library, these only are heavily annotated and likely to be of interest: C. Middleton, The Epistles ofM. Tullius Cicero to M. Brutus etc. (1748) (notes preparatory to Markland's Remarks on the Epistles of Cicero to Brutus etc. of 1745); M. Tullii Ciceronis ad Q. Fratrem dialogi très de Oratore, ed. Z. Pearce (17322) (collated by Markland with the ed. Stephani of 1553; in a letter of 1749 Markland wrote of 'having made another attack upon Cicero de Oratore, in which I fancy I have found out strange things' – but no publication came of them); Maximi Tyrii Dissertationes, ed. J. Davies (17031) (the working copy for Markland's contribution of notes to Davies's second and posthumous edition of 1740); Τῶν παλαιῶν ῥητόρων λόγοι ed. H. Stephanus (1575) (exceptionally heavily annotated in Lysias, and probably the working copy for Markland's contribution to Taylor's Lysias of 1739: many of the marginalia tally with the printed notes, but in general Markland has expanded them); Statii … Sylvarum Libri quinque (ed. Basiliensis, 1531) (the working copy for Markland's Statius of 1728); the copious notes in M.A. Lucani Pharsalia ed. M. Maittaire (1719) and Joannis Saresberiensis Policraticus (1595) seem to have found no publication. Some of Markland's marginalia, in these and other books, have been transcribed and published; e.g. for Euripides see G. Burges, Classical Journal 25 (1822) 339–43, for Plutarch see n. 12 above, for Juvenal see J.E.B. Mayor, Advertisement to Thirteen Satires of Juvenal (2 vols, 1886–

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Jeremiah Markland (1693–1776)1 84), for Martial see A.E. Housman, JPh 30 (1907) 265 (=Classical Papers 738–9), for Statius' Silvae see the ‘Editio auctior indicibus instructa’ ed. J. Sillig (1827). (35) . Markland's observation that dactylic trisyllables like munera, carmine, nomina are specially prone to interchange was picked out by A.E. Housman in his Commentary on Manilius, 1.416; cf. A. Ker, ‘Notes on Statius’, CQ 3 (1953) 2; J. Willis, Latin textual criticism (1972) 76. (36) . For other fine conjectures in Euripides (I count in Murray's OCT apparatus, 37 in Supp., 38 in IT and 57 in lA) cf. e.g. Supp. 559, 604, 608, 705, 793, 974b, 1055, IT45, 1018, 1019, IA 130, 339, 401, 912, 1256, 1459. (37) . Cf. D.R. Shackleton Bailey, Propertiana (1956) 224 – and his approval of other emendations by Markland at 2.33.21, 3.11.58. (38) . I choose only these two from the fifteen or so of Markland's conjectures in the Silvae which L. Håkanson, Statius' Silvae (1969) persuasively argues deserve more attention, if not acceptance, by editors (cf. his p. 13:1 owe this reference to Prof. Kenney, who reviews the book in CR 21 (1971) 210f.). A.E. Housman, CR 20 (1906) 41 (=Classical Papers 644f.), protested against neglect of Markland in Statius; for an even stronger protest, with illustration from Silvae 1.3, see J. Willis, ‘The Silvae of Statius and their editors’, Phoenix 20 (1966) 305–24, esp. 305–16. J.S. Phillimore, Silvae (19182) xxiii – generally thought to be the poems' most sensitive editor – defended the inclusion of more conjectures by Markland in his Second Edition (upwards of 140) than in his First, writing ‘quo peritior quis Latinitatis et Statiani potissimum stili fiat, eo plura e Marklandianis ei placitura esse’. In his Phoenix article (above) Willis remarks that English editors of Statius understandably have always held Markland in higher regard than have continental cf. e.g. F. Vollmer (1898) 36, and they note the comparative paucity (against Phillimore) of Marklandiana in H. Frere-H.J. Izaac, Stace: Silves (1961). Wilamowitz' severe condemnation of Markland's ‘gewaltsame Konjekturalkritik’ (n. 2 above) was directed at the Statius, but the same fault imputed to his handling of Euripides. (39) . Markland's conjectures at 1.67, 3.105, 157, 5.137 and 6.660 were confirmed by mss. readings. Cf. A.E. Housman, D. Iunii Iuvenalis Saturae (19312) xxviii: ‘Probably no recension or commentary has done as much for the amendment and interpretation of the text as Markland's desultory notes and the two disputations of the youthful Madvig.’ (40) . For Virgil see E.J. Kenney, JRS 60 (1970) 260 and J. Willis, Latin Textual Criticism (1972) 178f. (41) . Phoenix 20 (1966) 320; cf. n. 38 above.

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Samuel Musgrave (1732–80)

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Samuel Musgrave (1732–80) Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0016

Abstract and Keywords As a young graduate Musgrave read Greek manuscripts in Paris and qualified medically in Leiden, but later prejudiced any career through bruising revelations about the 1763 Treaty of Paris (he was somehow caught up in the secret diplomacy). His practices as a doctor in Devon and then London failed, and he died in poverty. His achievements were real, however, for he was among the first to recognise and describe psychomatic factors in medicine; and his Euripidean collations led in 1778 to the most methodical and accomplished complete edition of Euripides (and fragments) yet published anywhere. He struggled to complete an even fuller edition of Sophocles, which although unfinished was published in 1800 from papers bought after his death. Keywords:   Musgrave, medical doctor, collator of manuscipts, editor and commentator, Euripides, Sophocles

Dictionary of British Classicists, ed. R.B.Todd (Bristol, 2004) 2.694–6 Samuel Musgrave was born in Washfield, Devon on 29 September 1732 and died in London on 5 July 1780. The son of Richard Musgrave, gentleman, he attended Barnstaple Grammar School before being entered at The Queen's College Oxford in 1749, but he moved to Corpus Christi College in 1750, graduating BA in 1753 and taking his MA in 1756. Elected in 1754 to a Travelling Fellowship at University College, he spent some dozen years mostly in France and Holland, not only reading Greek manuscripts in Paris but studying medicine and taking the degree of MD at Leiden in 1763. During this time he became FRS (1760) and a member of the French Royal Academy of Letters (1763). In that year in Paris he was drawn into secret diplomatic activity concerning the Peace of Paris which ended the Seven Years War; he later printed revelations and accusations (in Reply etc., 1769) which were silenced only by vote of Parliament in 1770 as ‘unworthy of credit’. In England again from 1766, Musgrave pursued an unsuccessful career as a doctor, in Exeter and then Plymouth; the 1770 débacle cost him his living in Devon and affected also his subsequent practice in London. Despite taking an Oxford MD in 1775 and becoming both Fellow and a Lecturer of the Royal College of Physicians in

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Samuel Musgrave (1732–80) 1777, he died impoverished in London. His career nevertheless makes him one of the best examples of an able classical scholar working outside both University and Church. Musgrave used his collations of Euripidean manuscripts in some early works (Hippolytus, 1756; Exercitationes, 1762) and made them available to J. Markland, just then beginning his own Euripidean editions. Exercitationes was a specimen of varia critica, and a significant work for its time: its first (p.230) book dealt with problems frequent in Euripides' text, its second offered critical notes on passages in all the plays. The complete Euripides of 1778 was a very large and handsome affair, noteworthy for including a Latin translation, the scholia to seven plays, the Byzantine paraphrase and metrical scholia to the Triad (Hecuba, Orestes, Phoenissae); in particular it also offered the largest collection of fragments yet published, with their sources methodically documented (contrast J. Barnes's 1694 collection). Its publication was delayed by Musgrave's medical activities, and his lack of money obliged him to sell the manuscript to the Clarendon Press at Oxford, so that he lost control of it. He was aware, too, of his own shortcomings (vol. 1, Praefatio): lack of leisure for a systematic collation and recension of the mss., whence his dependence upon previous editions (carefully evaluated); mental oppression in the face of high expectations, so that he confessed to leaving a text often imperfect or unhealed; notes sometimes offering interpretations better than those in the translation, because that had already been set in print. Exercitationes had explained why he devoted himself to Euripides: he hoped to contribute to the renewal of Greek studies because the poet had been neglected since Barnes. In this same work (1762) he wrote one of the earliest and most passionate assertions that critics must intervene when their text shows aberrant usage or lacks sense, but also that they need sensitivity to language and their author's idiom, and accuracy (for such assertions cf. Markland's Statius of 1728 and B. Heath's Notae sive lectiones ad tragicorum Graecorum veterum … quae supersunt, Oxford, also of 1762). In this insistence and in his own exemplary practice Musgrave was a major influence upon the two generations of great English critics of Greek drama, from Markland through R. Porson to P. Elmsley (who died in 1825). The last was indebted also to Musgrave's Sophocles (1800), printed off from his papers bought after his death, with the publisher's frank statement of its uneven quality, but with confidence in readers' discrimination. The notes were more ample than in the Euripides, and while chiefly text-critical still, contain much good illustration of both idiom and matter. The Two Dissertations were published immediately after his death with the aid of his friend T. Tyrwhitt, who had long ago contributed to Exercitationes. They are of some interest, revealing a quite different Musgrave, one in tune with wider contemporary intellectual interests and modes; and they are therefore written in English. The first asserts that Greek mythology is the Greeks' own creation and not derivative, and analyses it into three parts: the divine apparatus, the natural phenomena which generate myth, and the heroic elements which assume allegorical form (some anticipation here of much later theorising); the second (p.231) dissertation contests Isaac Newton's view that the earlier Olympiad chronology was a forgery.

Bibliography Bibliography references: Euripidis Hippolytus … accessere J. Marklandi emendationes (Oxford, 1756) Exercitationum in Euripidem libri duo (Leiden, 1762) , with T. Tyrwhitt's Emendationes at pp. 131–76 Page 2 of 4

Samuel Musgrave (1732–80) Euripides quae extant omnia, 4 vols. (Oxford, 1778; repr. in various forms in Leipzig, 1778–88, and Oxford, 1821) Sophoclis tragoediae Septem cum animadversionibus S. Musgravii, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1800) Two Dissertations. I: On the Grecian Mythology. II: An Examination of Sir Isaac Newton's Objections to the Chronology of the Olympiads (London, 1782) Dissertatio medicalis inauguralis sive apologia pro medicina empirica (Leiden, 1763) Dr. Musgrave's Reply to a Letter … by the Chevalier D'Eon (Plymouth, 1769) Sources, References Bibliography references: C.O. Brink, English Classical Scholarship (Cambridge, 1986) 92–3 A. Cameron, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004) 40.22–3 M.L. Clarke, Greek Studies in England 1700–1830 (Cambridge, 1945) 62–3 L. Lehnus, ‘“Some Oxford scholars”. Una conferenza inedita de J.U. Powell’, Eikasmos 8 (1997) 266 n. 146 W. Munk, The Roll of the Royal College of Physicians, 2nd edn (London, 1878) II.312–16 J. Nichols, Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century (London, 1812–16) 3.149–50

Endnote 2006 Cameron is very informative on Musgrave's political involvements and medical theories, especially his recognition of psychosomatic factors, but gives a much less detailed appreciation of his scholarship. Lehnus reproduces Powell's list of ‘medical men who at intervals throughout our history have been good scholars, beginning with our great figure Linacre’: besides Musgrave, he names Philemon Holland, Charles Badham (a private scholar, and the father of the Charles Badham treated below, pp. 241–5), (p.232) Richard Congreve, James Henry. From the Dictionary one may now add Francis Adams and William Ogle. M. Vickers, Oedipus and Alcibiades in Sophocles, Xenia Torunensia 9 (2005) 1 and 43, notes that Musgrave was apparently the first modern to think that ‘we should perhaps see the historical figure of Alcibiades underlying Oedipus in Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannus' (Musgrave's Sophocles 1.289). I recently found a most pleasing anecdote about Musgrave, in Recollections of the Table-talk of Samuel Rogers ed. A. Dyce and Porsoniana ed. W. Maltby (1856; also cited at p. 225 above, n. 32) 328: Dr Gosset (as he himself told me) once dined with Johnson and a few others at Dr Musgrave's (the editor of Euripides). During dinner, while Musgrave was holding forth very agreeably on some subject, Johnson suddenly interrupted him with ‘Sir, you talk like a fool.’ A dead silence ensued; and Johnson, perceiving that his rude speech had occasioned

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Samuel Musgrave (1732–80) it, turned to Musgrave, and said, ‘Sir, I fear I have hurt your feelings.’ ‘Dr Johnson,’ replied Musgrave, ‘I feel only for you.’

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Peter Elmsley (1774–1825)

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Peter Elmsley (1774–1825) Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0017

Abstract and Keywords Elmsley’s envied brilliance and suspect genial ways seemingly prevented election to an Oxford fellowship. He took holy orders but after 1802 was able to live independently from an uncle’s large bequest. He travelled on the Continent, collating manuscripts; he was paired with the chemist Sir Humphrey Davy in the thwarted attempt of 1819 to read the Herculaneum papyri. His publications were numerous and always of high quality, including acclaimed editions of Euripides’ Heraclidae (1813) and Medea (1818), an important one of Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus (1823), and transcriptions of Sophoclean scholia (1825). He was twice disappointed (or vetoed for) Oxford Regius Chairs, Greek in 1812 and Divinity in 1822, but he gained the Camden Chair of Ancient History in 1823, not long after declining the see of Calcutta. Elmsley was one of the great British textual scholars, of any age, Oxford’s rival to the similarly gifted but selfdestructive Porson of Cambridge. Keywords:   Oxford fellowship, Sir Humphrey Davy, Euripides, Sophocles, Camden Chair of Ancient History, see of Calcutta, Oxford, Cambridge

Dictionary of British Classicists, ed. R.B.Todd (Bristol, 2004) 1.286–8 Peter Elmsley, of Scottish descent, was born in Hampstead, London on 5 February 1774. He was the younger son of Alexander; his uncle was the famous London bookseller Peter Elmsley, who in 1802 bequeathed him considerable wealth. Educated at Westminster School, he entered Christ Church, Oxford in 1791, graduating BA in 1794 and proceeding MA in 1797. Strong hopes of an Oxford Fellowship foundered upon academic jealousy, or suspicion of his genial ways; so in 1797 he took holy orders and the benefice of Great Horkesley, Essex. His uncle's bequest enabled him to live independently from 1802 (and he deputed to a curate), first at Edinburgh where he supported the new Edinburgh Review with his earliest published papers, then for a while in London before settling with his mother at St. Mary Cray in Kent, until she died in 1816. In Kent he produced most of his major articles and some early editions. Earlier in 1812 his Whig politics and association with the Edinburgh journal had contributed to his being defeated by T. Gaisford for the Oxford Regius Chair of Greek. When in Kent he was accused of misleading G. Grote about Page 1 of 4

Peter Elmsley (1774–1825) the affections of his fiancée for another suitor, whom some believed to be himself; this earned him the lasting disgust of Grote's family. After 1816 Elmsley began two years of collating manuscripts of Sophocles and Euripides in European, mainly Italian libraries; some working papers survive in the Bodleian Library. This expertise led in 1819 to the Prince Regent's commission to him, together with the famous chemist Sir Humphry Davy, to read the carbonized Herculaneum papyri; but technical difficulties and Italian jealousies thwarted success (Oxford (p.234) papers, cf. Horsfall, pp. 474–7). Elmsley then went to live permanently in Oxford. The last few years of his life were eventful. In 1822 the Prime Minister Lord Aberdeen blocked his appointment to the Regius Chair of Divinity, as ‘not an able Divine’ (this despite his learning in Church history); and Elmsley himself declined the see of Calcutta, becoming therefore probably the only recusant ‘Greek play bishop’. In 1823 he nevertheless took the degrees of BD and DD, but was made Camden Professor of Ancient History and Principal of Alban Hall; in the latter post he was incompetent. Elmsley was buried in the Cathedral in Christ Church; a memorial tablet erected by a friend advertises with their Greek titles the plays which he edited. Elmsley was sociable, well-living, corpulent (‘the fattest undergraduate of his day’) and generous: he helped pay the Oxford studies of his friend Robert Southey, the future Laureate, who recorded that Elmsley later made particular efforts ‘to bridge the gap between undergraduates and dons’ (Letters, vol. 3, p. 511). His brief time in Edinburgh led to his first major publication, when he oversaw a reprinted edition of Thucydides (1804). After supplying notes to a reissue of S.Musgrave's Euripides. Electra (1806), his first independent edition was of a comedy, Aristophanes' Acharnians (1809), which so dissatisfied him that he tried to withdraw it from sale; but he contemplated a ‘collection’ of Comic fragments (papers in the Bodleian Library). Thereafter he worked almost exclusively upon Sophocles and Euripides. First came the rather thin edition of the Oedipus Tyrannus (1811), then between 1812 and 1821 Euripides' Heraclidae, Medea and Bacchae; the first and second of these were acclaimed and drew attention from the great German critic G. Hermann. Elmsley returned to Sophocles for his most important work, the edition of Oedipus Coloneus (1823) and his collation of the Medicean Scholia to Sophocles (1825, posthumous), the latter from a manuscript whose significance he is believed to have been the first to identify. Many of his most important notes upon Tragedy had been published in Museum Criticum from 1813–1821, papers which on their own marked his scholarship as exceptional. After R. Porson's death in 1808 his Cambridge followers C.J. Blomfield, J.H. Monk and P.P. Dobree came to regard Elmsley as a rival in their master's style of criticism, with admiring respect but also reserve, the latter because Porson himself had suspected Elmsley of purloining some of his conjectures in Aristophanes and Athenaeus. Dobree died with his suspicion unchanged, but the two others negotiated a (p.235) peaceable understanding (Horsfall, pp. 452–61; for the whole controversy see Clarke, pp. 227–228). Elmsley indeed evinced virtues similar to Porson's, penetratingly exact observation of usage, careful and disinterested emendation, and tireless accuracy. Recent judges emphasize too both the greater wealth of his comparative and illustrative material, nearly unparalleled in its time, but also, distinctively, the importance of his firsthand collations of foreign mss., the most thorough yet undertaken by a Briton (S. Musgrave had been less ambitious). Hermann faulted his conservatism, but admired his scholarship, in a lengthy review of the Medea (reprinted in the 1828 Heraclidae et Medea, pp. 483–555). Even Dobree acknowledged his ‘sovereignty’ in Greek drama, but when his own Page 2 of 4

Peter Elmsley (1774–1825) Adversaria were published after death, their range and acuity were regarded as superior, an opinion now ‘received’ (e.g. Hermann, Page, Brink in Sources below). Nevertheless, Elmsley's interests and publications were very wide, in religious, legal and political history as well as in Greek drama, where his name lasts supremely well as one of the great British textual critics – not least because, unlike Porson and Dobree, he did complete his editions and commentaries.

Bibliography Bibliography references: Thucydides: Graece et Latine … ex editione Wassii et Dukeri (Edinburgh, 1804) Euripidis Electra (London, 1806), with notes on Musgrave's text Aristophanis Acharnenses (Oxford, 1809) Sophoclis Oedipus Туrannus (Oxford, 1811; 2nd rev. edn, 1825) Euripidis Heraclidae (Oxford, 1813, repr. Leipzig, 1821 ; repr. with Medea, Oxford 1828) Euripidis Medea (Oxford, 1818 ; repr. with Heraclidae, 1828) Euripidis Вacchae (Oxford, 1821) Sophoclis Oedipus Coloneus (Oxford, 1823) Scholia in Sophoclis tragoedias Septem e cod. Ms. Laurentiano, ed. T. Gaisford (Oxford, 1825) Elmsleiana Critica, ed. F.E. Gretton (Cambridge, 1833: selected notes from the editions of the Heraclidae, Medea and Bacchae) Important articles and reviews for Quarterly Review, Edinburgh Review, Classical Journal and particularly Museum Criticum Sources, References Bibliography references: Anon. (W. Gray), Gentleman's Magazine 95.1 (1825) 374–7 Anon. (E. Burton), The British Critic 1.2 (1827) 281–320 C.O. Brink, English Classical Scholarship (Cambridge, 1985) 112–13 (p.236) M.L. Clarke, Greek Studies in England, 1700–1830 (Cambridge, 1945) 97–9, 227–8 M.L. Clarke, George Grote (London, 1962) 10–12

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Peter Elmsley (1774–1825) C. Collard, ‘Peter Elmsley (1714–1825)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004) 18.301– 2 N. Horsfall, ‘Classical studies in England, 1810–1825’, Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 15 (1974) 449–77 A.E. Housman, Review of I. Bywater, Four Centuries of Greek Learning in England, Classical Review 34 (1920) 110–11 (= Classical Papers 1004–6) J.E.B. Mayor, Bibliography of Porson, Elmsley etc. (Cambridge, 1867) P.G. Naiditch, ‘Classical studies in nineteenth-century Great Britain as background to the “Cambridge Ritualists”’, in W.M. Calder III (ed.), The Cambridge Ritualists Reconsidered Illinois Classical Studies. Supplement 2 (Atlanta, 1991) 126 n. 11 D. L. Page, ‘Richard Porson’, Proceedings of the British Academy 45 (1959) 221–36 R. Southey, Selected Letters ed. J. Wood Warter, 4 vols (London, 1856) Letters and papers in the Bodleian Library, Oxford; National Library of Wales, Aberystwyth; University of Edinburgh Library; Westminster School Library, London; almost all are unpublished

Endnote 2006 Recent remarkable discoveries by Dr Patrick Finglass, including report of Elmsley's correspondence hitherto unpublished, necessitate a reassessment of Elmsley's early Classical work, and therefore of his whole career and achievement. First, there survives in the British Library the single known copy of a complete edition of Sophocles which Elmsley made, had printed but then suppressed, as early as 1805–6; Dr Finglass describes the volume, its generation and nature, and evaluates it, in a forthcoming article ‘A newly-discovered edition of Sophocles by Peter Elmsley’ (Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies, 2007). This article will contain the fullest account yet given of ‘the alleged suppression of the Acharnians in 1809’, and a full bibliography of Elmsley's classical work in the period 1803–16. Second, Dr Finglass has uncovered other early text-critical work of Elmsley upon Euripides and Aristophanes, in the form of marginalia; they will appear, with an assessment, in his paper ‘Unpublished emendations by Peter Elmsley on Euripides and Aristophanes’ (Classical Quarterly). Elmsley is to figure in forthcoming studies of the Quarterly Review, and of ‘The Porsonian School’, by Dr C.A. Stray.

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James Henry Monk (1784–1856)

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

James Henry Monk (1784–1856) Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0018

Abstract and Keywords A most successful Cambridge don at Trinity College, Tutor and (at the age of 25) Regius Professor of Greek – but also a churchman, made Dean of Peterborough in 1822, and in 1830 both Canon of Westminster and Bishop of Gloucester, a see he administered with great fairness and generosity. His conventional Latin editions of Euripides’ Hippolytus (1811) and Alcestis (1816) were modest and sound, work he later developed in two much later English editions of the two Iphigenia-plays (1840's). With his Trinity friend Charles Blomfield (also a ‘Greek play bishop’) Monk early founded and conducted the important journal Museum Criticum, and edited Porson's Adversaria (1812); and it was to Blomfield that Monk dedicated his authoritative Life of Bentley (1830), the great 17th Century Trinity Master. Keywords:   Monk, textual scholarship, Porson, ‘Greek play bishop’, Euripides, Richard Bentley

Dictionary of British Classicists, ed. R.B.Todd (Bristol, 2004) 2.666–7 J.H. Monk was born at Huntingford, Hertfordshire early in 1784 and died in Stapleton, Bristol on 6 June 1856. He was the son of Charles, an army officer, who died when he was one year old. His uncle, George Waddington, a fellow of Trinity College Cambridge, arranged his education, privately in Norwich, then at Charterhouse (1796–1800), and lastly at Trinity, where he graduated BA as Seventh Wrangler in the Mathematical Tripos in 1804. His other degrees were MA (1807), BD (1808) and, by Royal Letter, DD (1822). He was Fellow of Trinity from 1805, Assistant Tutor from 1807, Tutor from 1815 and Regius Professor of Greek from 1809 to 1823. Ordained in 1810, he was appointed Dean of Peterborough in 1822, after which he left Cambridge, reluctantly relinquishing the Regius Chair in accord with the University Statutes which forbade combining these two posts. In 1830 he was made both Canon of Westminster and Bishop of Gloucester, a see he held beyond its amalgamation with Bristol in 1836 until his death. Monk was punctilious but tolerant within his diocese, while clashing outside it with evangelical or Tractarian views; and he was extremely charitable from his own money, for education and to

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James Henry Monk (1784–1856) aid the incumbents of poor livings: altogether, a most worthy man. As a Canon of Westminster he was buried in the Abbey. A sound, deliberate scholar, Monk lacked the broad learning, energy and high confidence of his Trinity colleague and life-long friend C.J. Blomfield. They worked closely together in editing R. Porson's Adversaria (1812), and with other Trinity friends established the important journal Museum Criticum, of which Monk was effectively the sole editor. Within Trinity, he was an effective Tutor; in the Regius Chair, to which as (p.238) Porson's successor he was elected at twenty-five through Trinity influence before he had done anything of significance, he appears not to have lectured at all (also like Porson). His competence as an administrator, his early classical work, probably the Life of Bentley, and certainly his ecclesiastical and political connections, secured his preferment, eventually as a ‘Greek play bishop’. Subsequently he was able to revise his early editions of Euripides but also to publish some of his best work, the two Iphigenia's (below). Monk's indebtedness to Porson's editorial philosophy was proclaimed in the Hippolytus of 1811 (Praefatio, p. vi): he insists upon Tragic idiom and habit as the criteria for correction or good conjecture; and he is cautious (p. vii). Acknowledging at once Blomfield's help, he later benefitted gratefully from comments by P. Elmsley, whom he respected highly (Hippolytus, 2nd edn, 1813, p. ix; cf. Horsfall), and – an uncommon tribute – by his Trinity students (p. x). His Alcestis (1816), which included G. Buchanan's English translation, had the same design; but together with his separate notes on the play (Quarterly Review 15 (1816) 112–16), it received a harsh review by Hermann appended to the 1834 Leipzig reprint. Monk reciprocated with episcopal dignity by reprinting Hermann's short dissertation on the play in his own 1844 reissue, ‘safe from Hermann's damage’, he wrote (Praefatio, p. v), ‘since [my] edition had been reprinted so many times’. The Iphigenias (Iphigenia in Aulide 1840, Iphigenia in Tauris 1845) were coyly anonymous, but with speaking allusions to the Cambridge editor Professor Monk. Although Monk began work on them many years previously, they are rather different from the early editions in manner and quality; not least, they are in English – reluctantly, for Monk wrote that ‘verbal criticism in a vernacular language has an uncouth appearance’, and that he had used English as a result not of choice ‘but of personal circumstances it would be useless to explain’ (Iphigenia in Aulide p. 226; the apologia is not repeated in Iphigenia in Tauris). The Iphigenia in Aulide (pp. 219–27) contains an exceptionally interesting account of earlier editions and some revision of Monk's own approach; he tactfully rehearses his disagreements with Hermann, who is nevertheless ‘deservedly ranked as the first of living scholars’ (p. 227). Monk anticipates some later practice by printing the inauthentic part of the play's parodos after his main text, with a separate discussion of the spurious final scene (pp. 228–31). The commentaries to both plays show a new openness to the totality of Tragedy, as something more than a verbal artefact (e.g. upon dramaturgy Iphigenia in Aulide 999–1000, 1021–92; Aristotle's ‘anomalous’ Iphigenia 1353; aesthetics of stichomythia Iphigenia (p.239) in Tauris 804). In many ways these two later editions evince a change in the scholar, a response to fresh needs not unlike that made in the same period by F.A. Paley (no. 20 in this volume). Monk's monument is nevertheless his Life of Bentley, dedicated with deep regard to his old friend Blomfield (who had far outstripped him in all ways; but the two named their sons after each other and were godfathers to each other's children). Conceived as a corrective to inadequate and misleading accounts of the great Trinity Master, and prompted by recently discovered letters and College papers, it promised (2nd edn 1833, vol. 1, pp. viii, xii f.) – and

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James Henry Monk (1784–1856) gave – a candid view of Bentley's life and character, with fine sketches of College life and scholarly activity in his day. It is slow, stately and authoritative, highly regarded since its first edition (1830), ‘one of the great biographies’ (Brink, p. 112).

Bibliography Bibliography references: (Ed. with C.J. Blomfield), Ricardi Porsoni Adversaria (Cambridge, 1812) Euripidis Hippolytus (Cambridge, 1811; 2nd edn 1813) Euripidis Alcestis (Cambridge, 1816; 6th edn 1844; repr., with a review and notes by G. Hermann, Leipzig, 1834) Euripidis Iphigenia in Aulide (Cambridge, 1840) Euripidis Iphigenia in Tauris (Cambridge, 1845) Life of Bentley 2 vols (London, 1830; 2nd edn 1833) Learned articles and reviews; papers defending Cambridge University and the Tripos (1818–24); episcopal charges, papers and sermons (1830–54) Letters to scholars (see Horsfall, below); letters in the Monk and Sandford family papers, Library of Trinity College, Cambridge Sources, References Bibliography references: Anon., ‘The Late Bishop of Gloucester’, Gentleman's Magazine 221 (1856) 115–17 C.O. Brink, English Classical Scholarship (Cambridge, 1986) 112 M.L. Clarke, Greek Studies in England 1700–1830 (Cambridge, 1945) 86–7 N. Horsfall, ‘Classical Studies in England, 1810–1825’, Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 15 (1974) 449–77, at 450–69 R.C. Smail, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004) 38.625–6 C.A. Stray, ‘From one Museum to another: The Museum Criticum (1813–26) and the Philological Museum (1831–33)’, Victorian Periodicals Review 37.3 (2004) 289–314, at 289–99

(p.240) Endnote 2006 When writing of Monk's two Iphigenia editions, I might have noticed his own account, how he returned to classical scholarship after so long an interruption: it was a casual mention to a friend that he had not ceased to think over the difficulties of the text of Iphigenia in Aulide (p. 224), who then urged him to publish his accumulated notes. At a guess, I would say that the ‘friend’ was Blomfield. The Monk and Sandford papers at Trinity College Cambridge (for a résumé of which I am indebted to Dr Jonathan Smith, the library's Archivist) reveal that Monk consulted ‘Greek Mss’

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James Henry Monk (1784–1856) when on a visit to Paris in 1817 (Letter B 19), and that he was already well on with his Life of Bentley as early as 1819 (A 2/16). Smail's entry in the Oxford DNB concentrates upon Monk's career in the church, and his doctrinal stance. Dr Chris Stray has kindly passed me a transcript of part of a letter which Monk wrote to the editor and publisher of the Gentleman's Magazine, J.B. Nichols, in October 1832, responding to ‘a sneer against the University of Cambridge and all former Greek Professors (with two exceptions)’ which had appeared in an anonymous review of the Aeschylus of J. Scholefield, Monk's successor in the Regius Chair (Gent. Mag. 102.2 (1832) 39–44, 130–6; the letter is Lambeth Palace Library ms. 3120/10–11, reproduced here with permission of the Librarian): ‘The abuse of the University I believe to be most unmerited. Generally speaking I apprehend the fact to have been that at every vacancy of the Greek professorship, the best scholar resident in the University to whom the appointment was agreeable succeeded to the office. If my own case was the exception, it was not one of my own seeking, but arose from the wish of the majority of electors, at whose instance I was a candidate. And though I was certainly a very young man yet it should be shown that I so held the Chair as to disgrace their choice before they can be condemned for my election. ‘In my present station [Bishop of Gloucester], you will believe that my former classical reputation is of very small importance to me. However not to mention living scholars, Dr Parr, Dr Burney, Dr Elmsley, and Professor Dobree have all expressed publicly very different opinions of me as a Greek professor, from that of your correspondent.’

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Charles Badham (1813–84)

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

Charles Badham (1813–84) Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0019

Abstract and Keywords Son of a physician active principally on the Continent, Badham was taught in Switzerland by Pestalozzi before taking a poor degree at Oxford; but in years of further study in Europe he established important links with great textual scholars. He took holy orders and hoped for a fellowship at Cambridge, but became a victim of his free religious thinking and difficult personality, an ‘outsider’. He held two brief headmasterships and a longer one in Birmingham, where he became prominent in educational and civic life. This, and his international scholarly esteem, led him in 1867 to the Chair of Classics and Logic at the University of Sydney; here he became a powerful figure in State education at all levels; his 70th birthday was celebrated as a public holiday. Badham's scholarly work was done almost wholly before Birmingham, mostly editions and notes on four Platonic dialogues and three Euripidean tragedies. Keywords:   Badham, free-thinker, educationalist, textual scholar, Plato, Euripides

Liverpool Classical Papers 3. Tria Lustra. Essays in honour of John Pinsent ed. H.D. Jocelyn (Liverpool, 1993) 340–1* If F.A. Paley was doomed be an ‘outsider’ by the scandal in 1846 at Cambridge which cost him his teaching and residence in his own college, St John's (see the following paper, this volume pp. 246–67), his contemporary Badham was a still more unfortunate victim of mid-century Anglican conformism as well as of his own moral principles and difficult personality. The beginning of Badham's life and career was already unusual for a Briton. As a child he was sent by his father, for most of his life a physician attending Britons travelling in Europe but subsequently a medical professor in the University of Glasgow, to be a pupil of Pestalozzi in Switzerland before going to Eton; after leaving Wadham College, Oxford in 1838 (but with a third class degree) he spent seven years of further study in Germany and Italy. He read Greek mss in the Vatican Library and formed a close friendship with the great Dutch scholar C.G. Cobet of the University of Leiden; these are first-hand and continuous links with Europe almost without parallel among early Victorian classicists (Badham was fluent from childhood in Page 1 of 4

Charles Badham (1813–84) Switzerland in many modern languages). Returning to England in 1846, Badham became an incorporated member of Peterhouse, Cambridge; he took Anglican orders, in the way still necessary for aspirants to a permanent college fellowship, but within three years had begun the first of three headmasterships in minor schools; in the last, however, the Edgbaston Proprietary school in Birmingham, during his tenure from 1856 to 1867 he became a prominent figure in educational and civic life.1 Further advance, to a more prestigious school or university post or with church preferment, was prevented by his unorthodox religious views and (p.242) particularly his close association with the free-thinking F.D. Maurice. Many influential persons recognised his scholarly pre-eminence but were unable to help him, for example J.H. Newman (whose esteem he had won at Birmingham, where Newman was guiding the new Oscott Oratory), G. Grote the banker, MP and Greek historian, W. Smith the lexicographer, W.H. Thompson the Regius Professor of Greek and then Master of Trinity College at Cambridge. Despite holding one of the well-regarded classical examinerships of the University of London from 1863 to 1867, Badham in 1867 accepted appointment as Professor of Classics and Logic in the University of Sydney, Australia.2 Here he rapidly became a major and inspirational figure; apart from pushing through reforms to school syllabuses and examinations, after extensive onthe-spot inspections, and vigorous support of the Public Library in Sydney as its Chairman, his chief and extraordinary achievement was to persuade the Senate of the University to institute a system of evening lectures, which would enable working people to obtain a degree. Badham was giving reality to the ideals of F.D. Maurice. Once in Australia, however, he invested so much energy in these educational endeavours that he published little further in classics; a second edition of his Philebus appeared in 1878. As a young man Badham appears to have had adequate private means; for the great part of his career, from 1851 to his death in 1884, he was in salaried, busy and responsible employment. The quality of his classical work was superior, however; editions of Euripides' Iphigenia in Tauris and Helen (1851) and Ion (18511, 18613), Plato's Philebus (18551, 18782), Euthydemus and Laches (1865) and Symposium (1866) show the highest standards of traditional philology both then and now: ‘the one [[341]] English scholar of the mid-century whose reputation crossed the Channel, received from abroad the praises of Dübner and Cobet, but at home was excluded from academical preferment, set to teach boys at Birmingham, and finally transported to the Antipodes’ (Housman).3 His continental reputation came not only from his books but from papers published in the Dutch periodical Mnemosyne, through his friendship with Cobet, and from personal correspondence. The edition of Euthydemus and Laches began with a Letter to the Senate of the University of Leiden (which had awarded him an honorary doctorate in 1860), and that of the Symposium with one to his admirer and supporter W.H. Thompson: both are in effect miscellanea critica, lengthy demonstrations of Badham's critical method and emendatory skill across a wide range of authors. I confine illustration here to Euripides: the Praefatio to his combined Iphigenia in Tauris and Helen (1851) contained many emendations in Bacchae and, strikingly, in the Euripidean fragments; (p.243) as to Helen itself, R. Kannicht in his edition (Heidelberg, 1969) I.123 noted that Badham's over-confidence led him sometimes to prefer conjecture to a sound ms. reading; but Kannicht listed as particularly convincing his interventions at 186, 257–9 (where Wieland had in fact anticipated him), 358, 909, 1115 and 1134; and all of these were adopted by Diggle in his OCT of 1994. Badham and F.A. Paley were the two most prominent Victorian classicists excluded from conventional university careers.4 There are some other similarities between them: their religious independence of mind, their deep concern for educational opportunity and advance5 and, perhaps, their intellectual range: Paley's architectural, botanical and other interests are Page 2 of 4

Charles Badham (1813–84) matched by Badham's occasional publications (often of public lectures) on Shakespear and Dante, his published sermons and his composition of music. There appears to be ample material, and justification, for a biography of Badham, certainly of his years in Australia. His life was much more eventful than Paley's, his personality markedly more complex.6

Notes Endnote 2006 I contributed the entries for Badham to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004) 3.202–4 and to the Dictionary of British Classicists ed. R.B. Todd (Bristol, 2004) 1.39–41; and that for Blaydes (n. 4) to the DBC 1.89–91. Notes: (*) First published as ‘Appendix: another “outsider”’ in ‘A Victorian classical “outsider”: F.A. Paley, 1816–88’, ibid. 329–41. (1) . For Badham's progressive ideas, see C. Stray, Classics Transformed (Oxford, 1998) 44–5. (2) . Prof. W.M. Calder drew my attention to W.H. Thompson's remark in his edition of Plato, Phaedrus (London, 1868), on a conjecture of Badham at 259a: ‘… Dr. Badham, whom Stallbaum justly regards as an emissary of the archfiend of Leyden’ (Cobet). I cannot find where Stallbaum said such a thing (in the Praefatio of his own Phaedrus he writes of Badham only as the author of some very acute conjectures), but that Thompson should make or repeat such a remark is surprising when in the Preface, p. vii, of the same Phaedrus he writes of ‘my friend Dr. Charles Badham’. (3) . A.E. Housman, Manilius I (1st ed. London, 1903; 2nd ed. Cambridge, 1937) xlii, cited by H. Lloyd-Jones (ed.), U. von Wilamowitz, History of Classical Scholarship, Eng. tr. (London, 1982) 137 (German 1st ed. 1921) and by H.D. Jocelyn, ‘Australia–New Zealand: Greek and Latin Philology’, in La filologia greca e latina nel secolo XX, Atti del Congresso Internazionale, Roma 1984 (Pisa, 1989) 543–78, at 551; cf. Stray (n. 1 above) 61. ‘The greatest of our living scholars’, ‘Anon’ (W. Smith, the lexicographer), ‘Dr. Badham and the Dutch School of Criticism’, Quarterly Review 120 (June and October, 1866) 324–55, esp. 330–7, 349. Some opinions of his scholarship are collected by W.M. Calder III, Mnemosyne 42 (1989) 262 n. 1. (4) . I emphasise university careers; an active person like G. Long abandoned his university professorship (although there were financial problems at the time in the University of London), many scholars chose to become headmasters. Comparison might otherwise be made with another singular figure among Victorian classicists, F.H.M. Blaydes (1818–1908). He not only was a beneficed clergyman for most of his life but also had ample private means – enough to allow him to publish his many editions and Adversaria at his own expense (usually in Germany). In his wide interests also he resembled Paley and Badham: DNB (Twentieth Century) Supplement I (1912) 179–80 writes that he ‘made a hobby of homeopathy and delighted in music’; his wealth enabled him to collect books, pictures, objets and curios in profusion. He had also a misfortune in common with Paley: his first wife too was killed in a carriage accident. When Blaydes defaulted on volume II of Sophocles in the Bibliotheca Classica, it was Paley who completed the commission.

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Charles Badham (1813–84) (5) . Badham in England: Thoughts on Classical and Commercial Education (Birmingham, 1864) 29 (advocating a wide general linguistic training in Latin, English and French as well as in mathematics, but also the possibility of ‘bifurcation’ for those with natural abilities in one or the other). Badham in Australia: Jocelyn (n. 2 above) 549–53; Butler and Radford (n. 6 below); (another reference I owe to Chris Stray) Anthony Trollope, Australia (London, 1873), ‘New South Wales’ ch. II ‘Sydney’: ‘… the north shore (of Sydney Harbour), where lives that prince of professors and greatest of Grecians, Doctor Badham, of the university’; cf. ch. III ‘Religion and Education’, at the end, on Badham's reputation. Trollope later corresponded from London with Badham's daughter. (6) . My paragraphs on Badham rely heavily on the entries in the Australian Dictionary of Biography, 1851–90, pp. 68–71 (by Wilma Radford: below) and in DNB (1885) 386–7 (by J.D. Duff); cf. Sandys, History of Classical Scholarship III.407–8. I thank Chris Stray for further references to A.E. Stephen, ‘Numantia: a place of disillusioned aspirations’, Journal of the Royal Australian Historical Society 31 (1945) 249–76 (257–61 on Badham's country cottage built in this unsuccessful resort outside Sydney in the Blue Mountains; 268–9 give a brief biography), and Stephen Mitchell for T.J. Butler (a pupil of Badham), ‘Memoir of Professor Badham’ in C. Badham, Speeches and Lectures Delivered in Australia (Sydney, 1890) (cf. Butler's ‘A history of the University’ Hermes, Magazine of the University of Sydney (1902) 1–20, esp. 11–15); A.E. Piddington, Worshipful Masters (Sydney, 1929) ch. 1; W. Radford, Charles Badham and his Work for Education in New South Wales (unpublished thesis, University of Sydney, 1969). Further bibliography is given by P.G. Naiditch in W.M. Calder III (ed.), The Cambridge Ritualists Reconsidered. Illinois Classical Studies Supplement 2 (Atlanta, 1991) 127 n. 13. Published only in 1997 was an appraisal of Badham made in 1932 by J.U. Powell, with copious annotation by the editor L. Lehnus, ‘“Some Oxford Scholars”. Una conferenza inedita di J.U. Powell’, Eikasmos 8 (1997) 245–82, at 247–8, 273–9; it includes a small range of additional material and contemporary impressions of Badham.

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F.A. Paley (1816–88)

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

F.A. Paley (1816–88) Christopher Collard

DOI:10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.003.0020

Abstract and Keywords An able and versatile scholar, denied a Cambridge career before the University Test Acts of the 1860's and 1870's, because of his conversion to Catholicism in the 1840's. For nearly fifty years he lived as a private tutor and by his pen, an ‘outsider’ like Badham (see 19) above), publishing on a wide rage of topics, architecture, religion, the sciences and above all Classics, where he was prolific with over fifty commentated editions, including English ‘firsts’ with Propertius and Hesiod, and now uncountable pamphlets, articles and reviews. He edited four plays of Sophocles, but all those of both Aeschylus and Euripides, collectively and individually. His Euripides still stands alone as the only complete commentary by an individual, and has lasted best, his textual notes, like those on Aeschylus, remarkably gaining greater prominence in recent years. Keywords:   Paley, disadvantaged Catholic, prolific commentator, Aeschylus, Euripides

Liverpool Classical Papers 5. Aspects of Nineteenth-century British Classical Scholarship. Eleven essays collected …, ed. H.D. Jocelyn (Liverpool, 1996) 67–80 [Papers originally given at the Fourth ‘Greenbank’ Colloquium in Liverpool, 6–10 August 1990, under the title ‘19th Century Classical Scholarship in English’] Preliminary note 2006 This essay has been lightly supplemented, especially in Section I, from my earlier ‘A Victorian classical “outsider”: F.A. Paley (1816)–88)’, Tria Lustra. Essays in honour of John Pinsent, Liverpool Classical Papers No. 3, ed. H.D. Jocelyn (Liverpool, 1993) 329–41. That paper was a largely biographical account of the man; in order to avoid as far as possible duplicating references made there to unpublished and published matter, I often cite sources in the simple form ‘Outsider …’.*

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) I I begin with a brief review of the unusual career of Frederick Apthorp Paley (1816–88), since its course determined both the character and largely also the quality of his scholarship. He published more than fifty books of various sizes, a dozen or so of them in two or more editions; about twenty pamphlets; and a huge but now uncountable (because largely anonymous) number of articles and reviews, some very long. Most of his work was on Greek and Latin authors and classical topics, especially Greek tragedy and matters Homeric; but he wrote copiously on ecclesiastical architecture; Christian religion, especially the parting of the Anglican and Roman Catholic faiths; reform of the ancient universities and of classics in them; botany, zoology, (p. 247) general science and intellectual questions of all kinds. He published also translations into Latin verse, edited other men's poetry and wrote anecdotal and autobiographical matter. His most reprinted book was his Manual of Gothic Mouldings, illustrated with his own line-drawings; this was a standard work on the subject for more than half a century, with four editions in his lifetime and two posthumous revisions (1st ed. 1845; 6th ed. 1902). (I enumerated, illustrated, and discussed the remarkable range of Paley's published writings at ‘Outsider’ pp. 330 n. 1, 333, 335–7, 338.) Paley wrote prolifically, but he also wrote perforce, in order to live; it was an age when a good living could indeed be got that way. He could trade with editors and publishers on the strength of a facility in Greek and Latin and in his own language – acquired both at Shrewsbury, then a leading school for classics, and at St John's College, Cambridge. It is likely, however, that Paley began at Shrewsbury to develop a response to the content of classical authors, and a desire to understand them in the round, which shaped so strongly the character of his later published commentaries and underlay much of his advocacy of reform for university classical syllabuses. He graduated BA in 1838, but without attempting Honours in the Mathematical Tripos (he had neither ability nor liking for mathematics) and therefore, according to the University regulations of the time, also not in the Classical Tripos. Without an honours degree of any kind, Paley had a much smaller chance of a college fellowship, however clever, industrious or personable he was; and he had little other influence or ‘interest’, it seems. No notice appears to have been taken of his publication at Cambridge in 1838, the year of his first degree, of an English translation of G.F. Schömann's lengthy De comitiis Atheniensium (1819). Even if he had nonetheless been elected he would have been expected to take Anglican orders before long. St John's, moreover, was one of the most conservative of colleges in enforcement of the religious tests. So Paley became a private tutor, not a college tutor, but he lived in his college until a scandal in 1846 lost him his rights there. In that year he was accused by the Master of St John's of subverting the Anglican faith of a [[68]] college pupil in the direction of Catholicism, and he was expelled from his rooms. The cause of the scandal went back some years: in 1839 Paley had been a founding member and joint secretary of the Cambridge Camden Society, a body strongly influenced by the so-called Oxford Movement: it crusaded for the supposed purity of pre-Reformation doctrine and worship, which was to be reflected in church architecture; the crusade drew strength from, and supported, the Gothic Revival. Some of the Camden Society members soon converted to Roman Catholicism, as did Paley immediately after the scandal. One suspects the (p.248) animus against Paley was particularly sharp, because he was the grandson of William Paley (1743– 1805), author of the famous Evidences of Christianity (1st ed. 1794), a prime text of early 19thcentury Anglican theology; Paley's own father too was a beneficed clergyman. So Paley lost his Cambridge standing and his livelihood, and any hope he still had of a fellowship; for the statutes both of the University and the colleges still required subscription to the Thirty-Nine Articles of the Church of England. (The best documented account of this scandal is that of M.N.L. Couve de

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) Murville, P. Jenkins, Catholic Cambridge (Catholic Truth Society, London, 1983) 107–8; cf. also ‘Outsider’ 333 n. 14.) Paley then began fourteen years as family tutor in a succession of prominent Catholic households, often remote from libraries, as he later complained (e.g. in the preface to his Propertius 2nd ed. (1872) v). In 1856 the first of the University Test Acts granted access to the University of Cambridge to non-Anglicans; and Paley returned in 1860 for a second span of fourteen years; he was again a private tutor, this time without college allegiance or privilege, but he was a highly regarded one. Among his pupils was Walter Leaf (1852–1927), the future editor of the Iliad with a famous commentary that would at once supersede one written by Paley. Although these turbulent years were also busy with teaching and architectural studies, Paley began in them his long series of classical publications. From his editions with Latin notes of six plays of Aeschylus published between 1844 and 1847, he developed his first major classical book, the foundation of his Victorian fame, the complete Aeschylus with English commentary (18551; 18794). The first edition of this work came out while Paley was tutor in private houses, and it was there that he began work on the other large commentary for which he is still best remembered (and used), his Euripides in three volumes (1857–601; 1872–802). By 1874 Paley's large published output, his reputation as a teacher and his prominence as a Catholic layman brought him appointment to the only salaried post he ever held: he became the first, and indeed only, Professor of Classical Literature in the short-lived Catholic University College of Kensington, in London. This institution was set up by the Catholic hierarchy in England in order to match the Catholic University College established at Dublin in Ireland in the 1850s. The founding Rector in Dublin was John Henry Newman (1801–90), the future Cardinal; in 1854, indeed, Newman considered appointing Paley as the Professor of Greek, but was dissuaded by the man he did appoint (an early instance of professorial gerrymandering). Paley had argued frequently in print, in pamphlets and journals, about the need to change and modernise the teaching of (p.249) classics in all universities, not just for the Cambridge Tripos; indeed he began his crusade as far back as 1849 in the Catholic periodical The Rambler (it may have been this foray, as well as the six commentaries on Aeschylus already published, his Propertius of 1853, and his Ovid's Fasti of 1854, which brought his name to Newman's notice). If we take both the contemplated and the actual appointments as an index of Paley's standing, we need perhaps to reflect that probably there were few Catholics eligible who had anything like his ability and particularly experience, either in 1854 or even in 1874 – except among the clergy itself; it is well known that the Jesuit Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89) was drafted to the Dublin Chair of Greek and Latin in 1884. In the late 1870s the Kensington College collapsed from shortage of funds. Paley retired to the south coast of England, to Bournemouth – gratefully, for the London fogs were becoming intolerable to his always weak chest. He called his newly built villa ‘Apthorp’, from his own middle name and mother's maiden name, and died there after eight years of retirement, but still writing; the last letter of his which I have seen predates his death by only a few days, and is to his publisher.

II Thus Paley's life and its phases. He published classical work for exactly fifty years, and published chiefly in order to live. He had of course no pension, so that in the last decade of his life he was often in difficulty for money, constantly seeking outlets for publication; he still issued

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) about two new books a year; he often revised earlier ones, and he maintained a flow of journal articles. Why then has he a place at all in this colloquium? I rephrase the question with a brutality I shall try to mitigate. Was Paley a scholar, if only a scholar manqué, or was he merely a pedagogue, a hack writer of textbooks? The publisher's series for which he composed his major classical commentaries, the Bibliotheca Classica, drew the dismissive scorn of Housman, in a muchquoted criticism.1 I shall return to this series, [[69]] its ambitions and its nature, but Housman's implicit opinion of Paley himself was almost certainly based on a very close acquaintance with his work, both within and without the Bibliotheca Classica; for when Housman was at school and indeed at university, in the 1870s, there was still almost a complete lack of serviceable commentaries with English notes upon the classical Greek and Latin texts, except those of Paley. Furthermore, some of Housman's earliest scholarly publications were upon Propertius; and until Postgate's Select Elegies of 1884, Paley had to his name the only (p.250) substantial (and in this case also the only complete) annotated edition in English. Housman wrote his dismissive judgement of the Bibliotheca Classica about twenty years after this series ended, and ten years or more after Paley's death in 1888; but until his retirement in 1880, and perhaps for a few years after, Paley's reputation was considerable as an energetic and reliable commentator, often as the standard commentator, at least in the educational market; for he had no rival in his range. His contribution to higher scholarship must be measured accordingly, against the needs of his time and his own need for a livelihood.

III Paley's career – his would-be academic career – began conventionally enough for the age. While at St John's, in the 1840s, he issued individual editions, with Latin notes, of all the plays of Aeschylus except Eumenides. Yet even before this, he had put into print, no doubt without clear foresight or intention, what became a major principle of his later commentator's style. In his 1838 English translation of Schömann (1819: see I above), he observed in his Advertisement (p. iv): … he [Paley] has found, from actual experience in tuition,2 that considerable reluctance is manifested by those who are not advanced scholars … in perusing the pages in Latin; and that, in fact, many are deterred by the perhaps imaginary difficulty of at once arriving at the Author's meaning…. It is anticipated that a translation will not only facilitate but encourage perusal. Paley's removal from Cambridge in 1846 and approximately the year 1850 mark the transition among his commentaries from Latin to English notes. There were two factors: first, he had himself left the university world for that of teaching younger pupils; second, he was in ready and immediate concord with the large changes in classical teaching, led by the schools and only slowly followed by Oxford and Cambridge, which widened the syllabus beyond purely linguistic skills and required new kinds of textual commentaries and general works. The early 1850s saw the start and rapid growth of the School Local Examinations; their syllabuses prescribed texts for which suitable editions, with notes in English, did not exist. Independent publishers and soon after the Presses of Oxford and Cambridge Universities which administered some of the new examinations, were quickly into the market.3 In these new circumstances the Bibliotheca Classica was an important, necessary and perhaps inevitable enterprise.

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) (p.251) The Bibliotheca Classica developed from the Grammar School Classics, a series established in the 1840s, even before the Local School Examinations, by the publisher George Bell. Another publisher, Whittaker and Co., was impressed by the series' success, and the Bibliotheca Classica was a shared venture, inaugurated in 1849 under the joint editorship of A.J. Macleane (1813–58) and George Long (1800–79), both former Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge. There was an editorial prospectus or ‘scheme’ for the Bibliotheca Classica printed for private circulation, which set out its ‘chief purpose’ as [[70]] to provide for students in the upper forms of Public Schools, and at Colleges and the Universities, Editions of the Classical Authors, carefully edited, on an uniform plan, with English notes. It is, at the same time, expected that many persons who are neither students nor professed scholars will derive benefit from these editions. Then an ‘outline of the works’ specifies that each volume will have a life and notice of the Greek or Latin author prefixed; the text will be ‘the best available’, with deviations marked beneath; and English notes will be put beneath the text, with longer ‘excursions’ at the end. The notes are to direct the reader to the author's ‘collocation of words’, and to throw light upon the text by means of parallel passages: with a view to fixing principles and not mere results, in the mind of the student, the philological, aesthetical, or other, grounds, on which any interpretation is based, will be given when they are not obvious. The notes must avoid biographical notices and explanation of antiquities in favour of direction to standard works of reference; opinions of other editors are to be sparingly discussed; the style is to be plain and simple, unmixed with Latin and foreign languages; both diffuse notes, and ones obscure from brevity, are also to be avoided.4 Some part of Paley's claim to solid achievement in scholarship lies in the eight volumes he made for the Bibliotheca Classica, and so I have summarised its principles at length. In Volume III of his Euripides in the series, he champions these principles, and drew from the general editor George Long a specially inserted footnote of approval and re-iteration (III (1st ed., 1860) xxxiv n. 8). So strong was Paley's support for the principles – they reappear re-worded, in other prefaces and in some protreptic articles – that in a letter to the series publisher of 7 July 1872, on the occasion of the second edition of Volume I of Euripides (1st ed., 1857), he hopes that his would become ‘the’ Euripides.5 It was, in fact, his Aeschylus, his first contribution to the (p.252) Bibliotheca Classica, that gained him his greatest contemporary fame and went to four editions (1st ed., 1855; 4th ed., 1879). His partial Sophocles in the series (1859; he completed the commission abandoned after one volume by F.H.M. Blaydes (1818–1908), like his two-volume Iliad (1st ed., 1866; 2nd ed., 1884) and even his pioneering Hesiod (1st ed., 1861; 2nd ed., 1883), made less impact.6 The great majority of his annotated editions, both those in the Bibliotheca Classica and those outside it, were devoted to Greek tragedy. I therefore concentrate my remarks upon his Aeschylus and Euripides in the series – for two reasons: first, the volumes are typical of his major commentaries and, second, his work on these two poets has lasted best.7

IV Paley edited Aeschylus, in complete critical or annotated editions, no fewer than five times; he published a complete and lightly annotated translation twice; he edited and annotated all seven plays in separate editions, some of them more than once, with either Latin or English notes; and Supplices and Choephori three times each, most ambitiously in his Latin edition of 1883, near the end of his life. For Aeschylus he published also a short Latin commentary on the important Page 5 of 17

F.A. Paley (1816–88) Medicean scholia. He edited [[71]] Euripides critically, as a bare text for reading, once (although that means, as for Aeschylus and Sophocles, without systematic recension of the manuscripts in the now conventional way); he published his complete annotated edition of the poet, twice; he wrote separate annotated school editions of eleven plays, including Hecuba twice. He edited Sophocles critically, complete, once; he edited and annotated four of the plays in a volume for the Bibliotheca Classica, and two of them, Ajax and Electra, one further time for schools. His first independent scholarly edition was of Aeschylus' Supplices, with Latin notes, in 1844; his last published work on tragedy was a school edition of Aeschylus' Choephori, with English notes, in 1889, just after his death. Sophocles was probably Paley's least favourite tragedian and his commentaries were eclipsed almost at once, by those published between 1871 and 1881 by Lewis Campbell (1830–1908) and between 1883 and 1900 by R.C. Jebb (1841–1905).8 His complete critical edition of the poet (1882), the last which he made of the tragedians, contained what seems at first a remarkable and ironic misjudgement of its worth. Paley hoped (p. v) that it might ‘crown the author’. If we take one conventional measure of pure scholarship, the correctness or plausibility of an editor's conjectures on his text, we find that Paley's conjectures on Aeschylus and Euripides have lasted much better than those on Sophocles. Only one (Ph. 330) reached the text and only two (Tr. 662, OC 367) the apparatus of A.C. Pearson's OCT of (p.253) 1924; of the three, Tr.662 was put in the text, the other two ignored, by R.D. Dawe in his Teubner edition (vol. I (2nd ed., 1984); vol. II (2nd ed., 1985)). Yet the new OCT of H. Lloyd-Jones and N.G. Wilson (1990) puts three of Paley's conjectures in the text (Aj. 1324, Tr. 195, Ph. 320) and seven in the apparatus (El. 205, Ant. 4–6, 1021–2, Tr. 662, Ph. 577, OC 367, 1349). In Aeschylus and Euripides the lasting success of Paley's textual conjectures is much greater. I draw the figures which follow for Aeschylus from the three successive OCTs of A. Sidgwick (1899), G. Murray (2nd ed., 1955) and D.L. Page (1972). Into his text Sidgwick put 21 of Paley's conjectures, Murray 18 and Page 17; into his apparatus Sidgwick put 9, Murray 16 and Page 22. Remarkably. Paley's total score has steadily increased since his own century, despite the refinements and endeavours of textual scholarship and conjecture in ours; despite too, it must be said, Paley's own dislike of the overfondness for conjecture which he diagnosed in earlier and contemporary critics.9 He nevertheless conjectured freely enough himself when he was dissatisfied with existing texts; and his small individual school editions, published mostly in his last ten years of life, contain almost as many fresh conjectures as do his earlier and bigger books. The total number of Paley's conjectures adopted or mentioned is by Sidgwick 30; by Murray 34; and by Page 39 – yet these three editors are unanimous in admitting conjectures by Paley to their text in only five places (Pers. 135, later found to be the reading of mss Mscho1 and Y; Supp. 101, 776; Ag. 1347, wrongly attributed to the later Weil by Sidgwick; Ch. 953 Παρνασσίας – but apparently independent conjectures by Paley, in which he was later found to have been anticipated, were put into the text by all three editors at Supp. 592, 619, 987–8). It is striking that the three editors were unanimous in putting into their apparatus none at all of Paley's conjectures.10 I should qualify English editors' enthusiasm for English Paley by observing that Wilamowitz entertained hardly any of his conjectures in his editio maior of 1914. [[72]] These figures are indeed remarkable for Aeschylus, compared with those for Sophocles. but they are matched for Euripides, between the first two volumes of the OCTs of G. Murray (I, 1902; II, 3rd ed., 1913) and J. Diggle (I, 1984; II, 1981). Murray puts 6 of Paley's conjectures in his text of the thirteen plays and Diggle 15, Murray 36 in his apparatus and Diggle 35; in total, Murray records 42, and Diggle 50, conjectures. Again. however, the two editors agree in admitting to

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) their text only 4 conjectures (Hec. 190, El. 843 (where Bothe, it is now known, anticipated him), Herc. [452], Ion 745) and to their apparatus only 8 (Cyc. 402, And. 434, Supp. 926, El. 623, Herc. 757 (earlier by Bothe), 977, Ion [1035], 1360). Now, (p.254) our whole understanding of Euripides' manuscript tradition has changed hugely since Murray worked, let alone since Paley's time; editors' judgements are different; Diggle's philosophy of editing is more unsparing than Murray's of manuscript readings, the textus receptus and earlier conjectures alike. It will be interesting to see Paley's score in Diggle's volume III, above all in Phoenissae, in which play Murray admitted no conjecture by Paley to his text and only two conjectures to his apparatus (26–7 deleted, independently of Valckenaer, 686) – for Paley's work in this play has been highly praised by E. Fraenkel in his 1963 monograph, especially on its supposed interpolations;11 and D. Mastronarde in his recent, admittedly very full, Teubner edition of the play (1988) admits 4 of Paley's conjectures to his text (11 hesitantly deleted, 448, 1013–8 deleted, 1501) and no fewer than 29 to his apparatus. [Addendum. After publication of the paper in 1996 I circulated with offprints this note for insertion: ‘A quick count gives the following comparative figures for Diggle's volume III: Murray: 4 conjectures in his text, 17 in his apparatus, total 21; Diggle: 21 in his text, 38 in his apparatus, 14 atheteses in IA attributed to Paley first (pp. 423–5), total 73. For Phoenissae Diggle has 4 in his text (2 of those the same as Mastronarde) and 19 in his apparatus. This threefold increase between Murray and Diggle is remarkable.’) As to interpolation, Paley's own words are worth citing, for they typify the honesty and robust common sense with which he professed to do his whole job as editor and commentator. Observing the symmetry, or near-symmetry, of long speeches in Euripidean agon scenes, he suggests that it affords a test on interpolation and omissions, we do not say, certain in itself, but at least of considerable value as confirmatory of suspicion reasonably conceived on inadequate grounds. There is no part of a critic's duty which requires more shrewdness than the detection of interpolated lines …12 He then states the prima facie probability of interference in Euripides' text by Alexandrian and Christian critics, grammarians and actors, and of the invasion of parallel gnomai from anthologies. He goes on: that some considerable losses have been sustained by single lines or whole passages having dropped out, is more easily proved; and this evidently furnishes some analogy for believing that there are in a corresponding degree spurious interpolations.13 In his Aeschylus, furthermore, he writes: in pursuit of truth … the sole object of the editor … [Paley] has never hesitated to revise his text or mark as spurious verses he once (p.255) believed genuine…. To sacrifice conviction to the outward appearance of consistency … is a poor expedient.14 Paley's self-critical honesty meant that any reissue of one of his books was necessarily a revised, often considerably revised, edition (I have already remarked that even his school editions contain fresh textual conjectures). In the prefatory matter to his Aeschylus and Euripides in the Bibliotheca Classica, for example, he deletes, replaces or supplements between editions but seldom rewords; in the annotation he generally expands [[73]] the comparative material as well as finds new points for comment. E.C. Marchant (1864–1960)15 wrote the best contemporary assessment of Paley's scholarship, and laid special weight on his constant and thorough Page 7 of 17

F.A. Paley (1816–88) revisions. Paley's own letters to his publisher confirm his anxiety to take account of other scholars' new work, and to rethink his own.16 Improvement of the text was nevertheless not Paley's main purpose but he accepted it as part of any editor's inescapable duty. I said before that he welcomed the editorial principles of the Bibliotheca Classica wholeheartedly; condemning the notes in Hermann's Aeschylus (posthumously edited by M. Haupt, 1st ed., 1852) as ‘practically useless’ for ordinary students, because they were devoted solely to criticism of the text, he stated, ‘what they want is to get at the fresh and exact meaning of the text’.17 In his Euripides he says that his notes ‘have been composed with the hope of inducing students to pay not less attention to the mind and feelings than to the language and idioms of their author’; and again: ‘what we [in distinction to ‘preceding critics’] are now trying to effect, in a series of English editions, is the application of commonsense and practical classical knowledge, because that seems now to be wanted rather than extensive and varied research … [Previous editors have cared] more for the critical department than for the sense of the author … which we have ventured to regard as really the most important part of an editor's duty …’.18 Extremely revealing for Paley's speed of work, as well as for his commentator's style, are two passages also from a Euripides preface: when a demand arises, in consequence of any changes introduced into our scholastic systems, such a demand must be supplied without unreasonable delay. A work like the present must be done, not indeed hastily (for that is altogether inexcusable), but quickly, because it is wanted … it is a mistake to suppose that an editor, who commences his work with a fair knowledge, derived, as it can only be, from the long study of his author, must needs make twice as good a book by taking twice the time in its preparation. There are (p.256) some considerable advantages in that energy which prompts us to write while the interest is freshly and keenly excited …19 Paley showed that instant energy throughout his life; it was something which fired his journal articles and reviews, as well as his books and commentaries. He had besides a facility with words observable even to his undergraduate peers;20 how else could he have written so prolifically? I describe now the content and style of Paley's commentaries on tragedy; the difference between the major and the school editions is chiefly of scale, and detail in verbal explanation. The preface to Aeschylus – about 40 sides in its fourth and final revision – includes a general sketch of the poet's work, illustrating its language, character and ideas, and its textual and editorial history. For his Euripides, Paley wrote separate prefaces to each of the three volumes. These amount in sequence to a monograph of about 120 sides, treating practically every aspect of Euripides’ work as a literary artefact, subject to the hazards of manuscript transmission and editorial fashion – but omitting, noticeably but unsurprisingly for the time, almost any [[74]] discussion of theatrical aspects. I know of no earlier vue d'ensemble of Euripides and of the ideas, forms and styles of his poetry, which ranges so widely and says and suggests so much in so little space – in English, certainly, and possibly not in European scholarly writing. Paley acknowledges the work of K.O. Müller (translated as History of the Literature of Ancient Greece (1st ed., 1840)) and the Praefatio to A. Nauck's edition of Euripides (1st ed., 1854), but the earlier and particularly the mid-century general literary histories written in European languages, especially German, were

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) not accessible to him. Only in his latest and revised commentaries can he refer, for example, to J. Mahaffy's History of Classical Greek Literature (1st ed., 1880). Paley's method in annotating tragedy is to summarise the content of each major rhesis or choral passage, often only hinting at the nature of the dialogue to which these larger compositional units give way. He sketches the content of a dramatic episode itself with extreme brevity or not at all. His comments on the style and character of scene or speech are sparing, but a striking exception is the good note on Medea's last monologue. So there is little or no connexion reasoned between successive parts of a play. for Paley's prefatory matter to each play is also brief, seldom exceeding a résumé of the plot, short pictures of the main persons and a word on the date, known or hypothesised. Theatrical moments are rarely remarked, but even Paley could not avoid observing Medea's chariot or Evadne's leap into her husband's pyre. He assumes that the reader pays intelligent and continuous attention to how the action progresses; what he gives his reader (p.257) is a mixture of text-critical, grammatical, lexical, interpretative and contextual comment, with succinctly pointed comparative illustration, in a direct and unpretentious way. Metrical comment is confined to identification of the rhythms, except in dialogue trimeters, where the educational practice of verse composition had prepared users for remarks on prosody.21 In all this, Paley holds true to the editorial principles of the Bibliotheca Classica, but in one important respect he goes further: he is discreetly suggestive to the sensibility or emotions – how to be so is always the commentator's hardest task, as Samuel Johnson noted.22 Paley's greatest virtue is his candour about uncertainty, including his own.

V E.C. Marchant opined in his DNB notice that Paley ‘lacked the patience for research’. As my brief review of his life and career has suggested. he could not have found the time, even if he had the patience, for he had always first to guarantee his living (cf. W. Leaf, cited in n. 19). There are nonetheless some parts of his published work, mostly outside the annotated editions, which show him on the edge of scholarly research; without adequate time for it, perhaps, but certainly not without a clear idea of what it required, and what it might produce. A comment inserted into his discussion of Euripidean manuscripts, and existing work on them, says much about Paley himself, as well as research: Till Elmsley's time it may be questioned if minute collations had ever much been attended to. Here then a useful field for literary labour is pointed out to those who, enjoying the emoluments and leisure of a beneficed residence in either University, may be anxious to show some equivalent for it in a return made to the cause of scholarship.23 Note that the sarcasm is directed against Fellows of Oxford and Cambridge Colleges and not professors of London or other universities. It is by no means the only squib, or [[75]] reasoned attack, he published against ‘indolence’, as he termed it. The remarks help to give the lie to reminiscences of him which allege he never felt bitterness at missing an Oxford and Cambridge fellowship himself, or some other conventional academic preferment; and some of his letters are indeed sour on the point.24 Original or pure scholarship, then? First, there are Paley's collations of manuscripts, but only of those readily accessible in Cambridge, Oxford and London. Paley made and printed as an appendix to his Iliad in the Bibliotheca Classica a collation of an incomplete manuscript in the Cambridge (p.258) Public Library; it has no value, but T.W. Allen (1862–1950) had not yet begun his study and classification of Homeric manuscripts. Paley collated 14 British manuscripts of Hesiod for his edition, also in the Bibliotheca Classica, but he made very little use of Page 9 of 17

F.A. Paley (1816–88) Goettling's collations of European manuscripts despite taking other advantages of the book and adapting its index.25 For Aeschylus Paley neither did nor could collate manuscripts, but he clearly studied earlier work, particularly on the supremely important Medicean manuscript, in order to give himself a picture of its scribes' habits and its value – which he then commendably passed to his reader. As early as the first edition of his complete Aeschylus (1855), he observes26 that the Medicean scholia need careful study – this was a project he was himself in part to realise more than twenty years later, in his Commentarius of 1878.27 For his Euripides he examined, but did not collate, 13 British manuscripts, again in order to illustrate for his reader the general character of a tradition; and he traced facsimiles of single pages of 4 of them, for reproduction in his book (one recalls his draughtsman's skill from his architectural studies). The Cambridge Philosophical Society commissioned him to collate a Demosthenes manuscript bequeathed to the Fitzwilliam Museum, and helped pay for publication in a pamphlet of 1874. These actions, and other remarks, show his awareness of an editor's tasks, in preparatory study, hut they also reveal his inability, for whatever reason, to carry them through.28 Second, there are his journal articles; and here we find the best evidence of sustained conventional scholarship. Paley published widely in general periodicals, many [[76]] of which accepted quite specialised classical papers or reviews,29 throughout his career; but from the 1860s most of his classical articles appeared in the Proceedings of the Cambridge Philosophical Society and especially the new Journal of Philology. Indeed, three of his papers came out in the latter's first volume of 1868, including the very first in its first Number, ‘On Chthonian Worship’. This was an intelligent attempt to make sense of the Realien of such worship, as both culturally and historically determined. Paley contributed 15 papers to the Journal of Philology, over twenty years, on Aeschylus, Greek lexicography, Tacitus, Thucydides, Homer, Latin verse epitaphs, Pindar and Propertius. In one or two of these papers, and in other journals, and in half a dozen or so privately published pamphlets – and indeed as early as his Bibliotheca Classica edition of the Iliad of 1866 – Paley argued pertinaciously for his own Homeric ‘theory’. He observed that Pindar and 5th century tragic poets commonly treat mythological subjects either ignored or merely alluded to in the Iliad, or recorded only in later literature, especially the Posthomerica of Quintus of Smyrna; so (p.259) he theorised that ‘Homer’ was an anonymous 5th century fabricator, who compiled the two epics from here and there, from archaic, recent and contemporary sources alike, according to the general outline of myth; and by this same theory Paley was led to explain the many linguistic and other discrepancies of Homer. At the least, the theory came from close study and observation; for example. Paley traced the later poetic history of many Homeric words in detail. The theory came also from honest speculation about a real problem. It won some brief notice from ‘analysts’ of Homer in Germany, but was scorned in Britain. In his letters Paley writes that William Gladstone (1809–98) was interested enough to want to discuss the matter with him; I cannot find that he ever did, and elsewhere Paley explains his unwillingness to make the formal response to a London lecture by Heinrich Schliemann (1822–90) when Gladstone was in the audience.30 He complained that Oxford and Cambridge dons were sufficiently indifferent to his theory not to buy even one copy of his latest pamphlet upon it.31 I mention one last publication whose title alone suggests true engagement with exact and disinterested research, Paley's Short Treatise on the Greek Particles and their Combination according to Attic usage (1881). This 90-page booklet includes a brief index of usage and combinations, and was duly recorded by Denniston in his great work; it was however intended to

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) aid chiefly schoolboys composing verses. Still, it is the first specialised collection of its kind I know of which was made in this country.32

VI A very different pointer to Paley's achievement – to his general achievement if not to his accomplishment as a pure scholar – is the number of publishing ‘firsts’ he scored as editor or commentator. His complete annotated Aeschylus and Euripides stood alone in English – indeed his Euripides still stands alone, for no single scholar has since [[77]] succeeded, or even attempted, to annotate all of Euripides on a comparable scale. With these works he did indeed both meet a sudden and unprecedented want, and fill a near void. There were Latin critical commentaries a-plenty, to both poets, but only a few English ones of any pretension, to single plays; before the 1850s the Agamemnon and Choephori of both J.W. Peile (1806–82) – 1839 and 1840 – and John Conington (1825–69) – 1848 and 1857 – and the two Iphigenias of J.H. Monk (1784–1856) – Aulis, 1st ed., 1840; Tauris 1st ed., 1845 – are a nearly complete list. Sophocles, it must be said, was a little better provided: T. Mitchell (1783–1845) issued a complete English edition in 1844, and Hermann's Latin commentaries on Antigone and (p.260) Oedipus Coloneus were published in English translation as early as 1831, remarkably enough in Dublin. Paley's Iliad of 1866 was not an English ‘first’, but his Hesiod (1861), also in the Bibliotheca Classica, decidedly was. So too was his independent Propertius of 1853, heavily revised and expanded in 1872 and regularly acknowledged by editors and commentators.33 Likewise ‘firsts’ were Ovid's Fasti of 1854; Selections from Martial (1881); Select Private Orations of Demosthenes (1st ed., 1874, undertaken together with the young J.E. Sandys (1844–1922) at Cambridge and still a useful work); a selection, with English verse translation and brief notes, of Fragments of the Greek Comic Poets (1888) – an imaginative publication for its day. Add to all these some forerunners of the necessary fashion of our own times: annotated translations of Aeschylus (1st ed., 1864; 2nd ed., 1871), Pindar (1868), Plato's Philebus (1873) and Theaetetus (1875) – and, at a remove, of The Gospel of St John (1887) and Thomas à Kempis's Imitation of Christ (1881).

VII I return, in conclusion, to my earlier questions: why has Paley a place in this colloquium? Was he a scholar, or only a facile pedagogue? He was a little less than the first, in the meaning now of a ‘scholar’, although fully so in the mid-Victorian sense; but he was a scholar much more than a pedagogue: the evidence for that is firm enough. What judgements were made of him in his own time and are, or can be, made of him in ours, a century after his death? Contemporary commentators were grateful to him, often in the sense that they allow his work to be the foundation, and necessary starting point, of their own; they assume their readers' easy access to it. For Aeschylus and Euripides he was the automatic recourse: to see that, one need glance only at the prefaces of A.W. Verrall (1851–1912), or, more significantly, of those editors whose commentaries quickly superseded Paley's, for instance those of Arthur Sidgwick (1840– 1920) in the 1880s – the Sidgwick whom Paley in his letters bitterly accused of plagiarising from him.34 His Iliad disappeared from use once Monro's and particularly Leaf's editions began, also in the 1880s. His four plays of Sophocles in the Bibliotheca Classica received perhaps their warmest tribute from Lewis Campbell (who nevertheless deplored Paley's readiness to suspect interpolation);35 that was also in the 1880s, and just before Jebb's commentaries began to supersede Campbell's as well as Paley's. His Euripides lasted best, both on merit and completeness, as I have tried to show, but also because many of the plays were only slowly (p.

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) 261) taken up by the University Presses, except in school editions of hardly greater pretension than Paley's. [[78]] Later contemporaries also noted Paley's ignorance of the German language and therefore of recent and important German scholarship. The shortcoming was widespread in the early Victorian period, but gradually diminished in the middle and later years. Paley in fact got some help in German from at least one colleague in his London time, in the 1870s, but his inability, or failure, to use such help consistently must be marked against him, despite his busy Kensington professorship and other preoccupations. It is clear, he read only those major works which were in Latin (and not always those) or in English translation, and never papers in foreign journals.36 In this century, and in this country, the old ‘red’ Clarendon Euripides got little past halfway replacing Paley's single-handed work, and the Aris and Phillips Euripides is still catching up. I think it significant that among the Clarendon editors the warmest tribute to Paley is that paid by J.D. Denniston in his admirable Electra. That was in 1939; but more recently Paley has been sincerely commended by fine scholars, for example by E. Fraenkel for his work on Aeschylus (and on Euripides' Phoenissae: n. 11 above). Here is Fraenkel in the Prolegomena to his Agamemnon (1950) I.52: Paley was certainly no genius. but a solid worker and an honest man … if he often fails to reach the highest peaks, he always takes us safely up the foothills and sometimes beyond, and that is far more than most of his fellow-interpreters achieve. Many difficulties which in other commentators are either passed over altogether or dismissed with a casual remark are courageously tackled by Paley. Noting that Paley continuously rethought his answers between revised editions, was sometimes inconclusive and forgot that tragedy was meant to be performed on a stage, Fraenkel ends (ibid.): Nevertheless, some of his interpretations may be regarded as final. He also made a few convincing emendations, although textual criticism was not his forte. In his 1969 commentary on Euripides' Helena, R. Kannicht praised Paley's insistence above all on ‘explaining the meaning of the author’ and acknowledged his achievement in many places (I. 125). Most recently of all, J. Diggle in the Praefatio to volume I of his OCT of Euripides (1984) commends Paley in words (p. ix) which recall Fraenkel's in his Agamemnon: (p.262) commentarium in omnes fabulas adhuc habilissimum scripsit Fredericus A. Paley, tutus sane in minus arduis doctor. These more recent commendations – and the figures which I gave for the increasing attractiveness to OCT editors of Paley's conjectures in Aeschylus and Euripides – do something to rescue Paley from the dismissive because collective scorn for the Bibliotheca Classica voiced by Housman (n. 2 above). This harsh opinion of Victorian scholarship in Greek Tragedy was early shared by Wilamowitz; it has been cited, explained historically but still in measure implicitly endorsed, by C.O. Brink.37 Towards the end of his life, however, Wilamowitz qualified his judgement and recognised the merit of the Victorian interpreters of the classics.38 Under [[79]] the banner of such interpretation Paley would willingly have taken his stand; indeed he did so stand, many times in print, as I have shown by quotation and reference. He would have claimed

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) no more for this part of his work. We too should not look too hard for what he did not offer and knew he could not give.

Notes (p.266) (p.267)

Endnote 2006 In 1990 I had missed an illuminating note on one instance of Paley's scholarship: L.J.D. Richardson, ‘Aeschylus, Persae 135. άβροπενθεȋς Paley (codd. άκροπενθεȋς)’, Hermathena 89 (1957) 73–5, traces how Paley between 1847 and 1855 deduced this ‘brilliant’ conjecture from the scholia. It has subsequently been confirmed from a Leiden manuscript of Aeschylus: See p. 253 above, and Page's or West's edition. I contributed the entries for Paley to the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004) 42.442– 4, and to the Dictionary of British Classicists, ed. R.B. Todd (Bristol, 2004) 3.739–41. Notes: (*) Some time after I had written ‘Outsider’ and delivered this paper to the colloquium, a further 300 or so autograph letters of Paley were added to those in the Bell Archive of the University of Reading Library on which I had already drawn: they span the years 1854 to 1888, mostly from the 70s and 80s, and thus overlap the first group of letters. When I examined them early in 1993, the letters were uncatalogued and out of chronological sequence. They greatly amplify but do not significantly change my general appreciation of Paley's career, circumstances and principles. I cite a few of these additional letters here as ‘Reading Add.’ followed by their date. I have omitted from this reprint of the colloquium paper a few illustrative citations from the ‘Reading Add.’ letters (p. 67 there), and a short Appendix of Addenda to ‘Outsider’ (pp. 78–9). I have added (to pp. 253–4 here) some further figures for Paley's conjectures in Euripides, and (to n. 36) matter which originally stood in n. 39 on p. 340 of ‘Outsider’ (on Paley's inability to read German scholarship). (1) . A.E. Housman, Manilius I (1st ed., London, 1903; 2nd ed., Cambridge, 1937) xlii–iii. (2) . Note that Paley appears therefore to have taught undergraduates before he himself graduated. (3) . See ‘Outsider’ n. 33. On the provision of English rather than Latin notes see ‘Outsider’ 338 and n. Chris Stray refers me to the discussion by J. Conington, Aeschylus. Agamemnon (London, 1848) viii–xii. Conington corresponded with Paley about Choephoroe: see his edition (London, 1857) Preface, p. xi. (4) . I owe the sight of a copy of this ‘Scheme’ to Chris Stray. (5) . Paley's hope was that ‘Mr. Long's prediction would be verified’; the letter is Reading 308/142. (6) . Reading Add. 3 ii 1881 has ‘to me it has long been a marvel that no rival edition has competed with it’.

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) (7) . W.M. Calder III in a letter to me states that at Harvard in the 1950s ‘his teachers praised Paley's Aeschylus and Euripides’. The following letters bear on Paley's Bibliotheca volumes: Reading Add. 31 xii 1855 (initial agreement about Euripides); 11 ii 1856 (asks for copies of Nauck's and Kirkhoffs [sic] editions); 3 xi 1858 (already volunteering the Iliad, a ‘heavy undertaking’); 10 vii 1859 (‘ambitious enough to think I may be able to supply this want’ – for Hesiod, Homer and Theocritus); 9 ix 1880 (revision for 2nd ed. of Euripides ‘getting too much for me at near 70’; cf. also n. 8). (8) . Paley had justifiable fears from as early as 6 iv 1878 (Reading Add.) that the Bibliotheca Classica edition of Sophocles might fail to compete with Campbell's and Jebb's editions; cf. 22 vii 1879, 4 x 1879, 11 iii 1881; but in 8 iv 1878 he surmised Jebb's disinclination to work ‘with his fine appointment of £1600 a year’ (to the Glasgow Greek Chair), and in 8 xi 1878 he doubted if there was anybody competent to read the sheets of his four plays. On the supersession of his commentaries see also Section VII. (9) . Paley criticises especially Badham and Blaydes: Reading Add. 8 i 1856 (Badham ‘whose notes show neither research nor intimacy with the readings and interpretation of his author’); 13 ii 1858 (Blaydes ‘corrupter of the old text’, cf. 18 xi 1859 – but 29 xi 1878 ‘more worth consulting than Jebb’). (10) . Soon after the colloquium M.L. West published his Teubner Aeschylus (Stuttgart, 1990). He admits to his text the same five conjectures unanimously accepted by the OCT editors, while attributing Ch. 953 to the earlier Musgrave – but a further 13 to his text, at Supp. 376, 541, 569, 847, 848, 988; Ag. 287, 1098; Ch. 117, 761; Eum. 368, 378. 578 – and no fewer than 51 to his apparatus alone. This total of 69 is twice as high as those of the OCT editors, and not to be explained merely by the more ample scale of West's edition. (11) . Zu den Phoinissen des Euripides (SB München, 1963) passim but especially on Pho. 752–6, 1326 (‘der treffliche Paley’, p. 80), 1613; cf. Gnomon 37 (1965) 239 (‘Paley, dessen grundliche Kenntnis der Tragödiensprache ich immer wieder bewundere’). (12) . Euripides II (1st ed., 1858) Preface, p. xxiii. (13) . Ibid., p. xxiv. (14) . Aeschylus (2nd ed. 1860) Postscript, p. xxxvi. (15) . DNB vol. 43 (1895) 99–101. (16) . e.g. Reading Add. 229/206 of 13 ii 1879 and 158/231 of 13 iv 1888, the year of his death; see the further references in ‘Outsider’ n. 34, and Reading Add. 6 ii 1854, 6 iv 1859, 6 xii 1880, 21 ix 1881, 31 iii 1883. (17) . Aeschylus (1st ed., 1855) Preface, p. v. (18) . Vol. I (1st ed., 1857) Preface, p. lvi = (2nd ed., 1872) p. lvii; vol. II (1st ed., 1858) Preface, p. ix. (19) . Vol. II (1st. ed., 1858) pp. vi-viii. Paley justifies his speed of work in Reading Add. 22 x 1880 (on the Sophocles for the Bibliotheca Classica). Many letters refer proudly to his regular completion of undertakings on time. His speed was perceived differently by W. Leaf, Some

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) Chapters of Autobiography etc. (London, 1932) 60: ‘… he had to make his living by coaching and by doing what was virtually hack work for publishers. He was extraordinarily industrious, but the range of his subjects and the need to produce something quickly always gave me a sense of superficiality even in his best work’. I owe this reference to W.M. Calder III. (20) . T. Field, The Eagle (St John's College, Cambridge) 15 (1889) 445, in ‘Reminiscences of F.A. Paley’ 442–7. (21) . It is noteworthy that in Euripides II (1st ed., 1858) ix–xi, Paley writes generally on Euripides' progressive licence in both trimeters and lyrics, especially Aeolic; he gives examples, and passes to observations on the freer diction which matched the freer lyric metre. (22) . D. Greene ed., Samuel Johnson. Oxford Authors Edition (1984) 450; see also my p. 7 above, with nn. 13 and 14. I observed in passing at the colloquium that it might be worthwhile to trace the gradual invasion of purely critical annotation by the evaluative and aesthetic, in editions of Greek and Latin authors during the 19th century. (23) . Euripides III (1st ed., 1860) Preface, p. xxxii. (24) . e.g. ‘idle, pensioned Fellows’ in Paley's letter 263 of 23 i 1875 and 266 of 20 v 1875 in Dr. Williams' Library. London, reprinted by A. Peel (ed.), Letters to a Victorian Editor (London, 1929) 205 and 206, see also ‘Outsider’, n. 24, and Reading Add. 6 x 1876, 11 iv 1877 and especially 16 ii 1881 where Paley says (at the age of 65): ‘The only thing that would bring me back would be the offer of a Fellowship. But Cambridge has not yet learnt to dispense its preferments as it might. An attempt was made to get me to St Peter's to fill Shilleto's place [he died in 1876]. But Mr. Porter [Master of Peterhouse, 1876–1900] would not hear of it.’ On Shilleto himself the additional letters move from praise of his early work on Thucydides (17 v 1856, 6 viii 1857) to disgust that he accomplished so little (Thucydides, Book I, 1872) after promising so much and receiving a fellowship to guarantee it (6 x 1876, 18 xii 1877, 6 v 1880); there is dismay that the fragments of Shilleto's Book II (1880), which Paley completed for publication but insisted he got no credit for on the title page, were so poor (23 i 1879, 21 x 1879, 28 x 1879, 10 iv 1880). When Paley reviewed Shilleto's Book I (Academy Vol. III no. 50, 15 June 1872, pp. 236–7), he wrote ‘the portion [of the promised edition and commentary] now published bears some marks of being an unfinished and fragmentary performance’. Paley's most vigorous public attack on the indolent privilege of Oxford and Cambridge dons was ‘The Anglican Church system as exhibited in the Universities’, Dolman's Magazine vol. V no. XXVII (May, 1847), 355–76, esp. 357–66 (Dolman's Magazine was a Catholic journal). (25) . M.L. West, Hesiod. Theogony (Oxford, 1966) 102. (26) . Preface, p. xxvii n. 3, expanded e.g. in 3rd ed. (1870) p. xxix n. 7. (27) . This is the only book by Paley to have been honoured with a modern reprint, exactly one hundred years later, at Amsterdam. For Paley himself on the work's contemporary reception see Reading Add. 11 ix 1880: ‘Thanks for the account [i.e. of sales] of Aeschylus' Scholia, which shows the amount of interest the Universities take in Classical research. I believe it is fairly represented by the figure 0.’ The Cambridge University Press did publish his special edition, with Latin critical notes, of Supplices and Choephoroe (1883); see Reading Add. 14 iii 1883.

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) (28) . At the time of the colloquium I perhaps underestimated Paley's concern at least to inspect manuscripts for himself: Reading Add. 8 vii 1859, 10 vii 1859, 3 xi 1859, 3 xii 1859 and 4 vii 1860 state his determination when preparing his Euripides; the Preface of his third volume (1st ed., 1860; unchanged 2nd ed., 1880) is devoted to the manuscript tradition; the facsimiles are between pp. xviii and xxi. Cf. also e.g. 10 xi 1879 (difficult ‘deciphering’ of a Cambridge manuscript of Thucydides when completing Shilleto's Book II). (29) . For British classical periodicals in the 19th century, see P.G. Naiditich in W.M. Calder III (ed.), The Cambridge Ritualists Reconsidered, Illinois Classical Studies. Supplement 21 (Atlanta, 1991) 130–43, esp. nn. 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26. (30) . Letters 262 of 5 viii 1873 and 267 of 10 vii 1875 in Dr Williams' Library, reprinted by Peel, 204 and 207 (see n. 24 above). (31) . e.g. Reading 153/234 of 20 i 1888, cf. ‘Outsider’, nn. 24 and 35, to which I can now add, with regard to the Homeric ‘theory’, that Wilamowitz warned Gilbert Murray ‘of the slippery slope on which Paley had slid’: G. Murray, ‘Memories of Wilamowitz’, AuA 4 (1954) 12, cf. Rise of the Greek Epic (1st ed., 1907) 170. Wilamowitz' letters to Murray have now been published by A. Bierl, W.M. Calder III, R.L. Fowler, The Prussian and the Poet (Hildesheim, 1991); p. 105 has ‘the slippery slope’, (letter of 24 vii 1911), p.97 earlier scorn of Paley (30 ix 1910). Many Reading Additional letters pride themselves on the ‘theory’ and its growing acceptance on the continent (e.g. 15 v 1867, 30 viii 1871, 9 viii 1881, 16 viii 1884) but deplore English indifference. At 4 x 1880 Paley however acknowledges that ‘I am sorry that I devoted so much time and money to questions which few care about’. In 3 vii 1886 Paley writes that when he offered to review Leaf's Iliad for the Athenaeum, ‘the reply was impertinent: “declined, as your views on Homer are heretical”.’ W. Leaf made no reference whatever to Paley's theory in his Iliad, nor in his Autobiography (reference in n. 19 above). (32) . In Reading Add. 25 iv 1881 Paley says he intends his Particles to be ‘not unlike’ (but much shorter than) Bäumlein's volume (Stuttgart, 1861); he was to be paid £20 for it (24 iii 1881). (33) . It was recommended faute de mieux to candidates for Mods at Oxford in 1881 (L.R. Farnell, A Guide to Studying for Honour Classical Moderations). (34) . Reading 153/232 of 24 x 1887 and 153/236 of 28 x 1887: see ‘Outsiders’ n. 24. Reviewing Sidgwick's Eumenides (Academy Vol. XXXII no. 308, 29 October 1887, p. 289), Paley writes that indebtedness to previous commentators needs to be acknowledged, and that ‘“appropriation” should have certain recognised limits’: so P.C. Naiditch. In Reading Add. 10 ix 1884 Paley comments on the poor success of his Aristophanes: ‘no sooner was Frogs (1877) announced, than Cambridge announced an opposing edition by Mr. Green (1879). I cannot see that it is superior to mine; indeed, he quotes me throughout.’ (35) . Sophocles II (Oxford, 1881) Preface, p. vi. (36) . Paley's ignorance of German and Germanic scholarship, e.g. Athenaeum No. 3190, 15 December 1888, 814 (anonymous) and Dictionary of National Biography 43 (1895) 99 (E.C. Marchant). E.B. England, CR 2 (1888) 318 comments on his ignorance of Wilamowitz' Analecta Euripidea and Kirch hoff's Euripides in preparing his Suppliants of 1888. Dr L. Schmitz, a naturalised Briton, formerly Rector of Edinburgh High School from 1845 to 1866, and Paley's

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F.A. Paley (1816–88) colleague from 1874–9 as Classical Examiner to the University of London, may have been able to help Paley out. The best comment, because almost contemporary, on the general ignorance of, or indifference to, continental scholarship among early Victorians is in the unsigned article (in fact by W. Smith (1813–93), who held a professorship in the University of London and became famous among the Victorians as a lexicographic entrepreneur), ‘Dr. Badham and the Dutch School of Criticism’, Quarterly Review 120 (June and October, 1866) 324–55, esp. 330–7, 349; more recently, see e.g. J. Glucker, Pegasus. Classical Essays for the University of Exeter (Exeter, 1981) 99; H. LloydJones, ‘Introduction’ to Wilamowitz' History of Classical Scholarship, English translation by A. Harris (London, 1982) xxxi (the German original appeared in 1921 and was revised in 1927); C.O. Brink, English Classical Scholarship (Cambridge and New York, 1985) 128, 138–9 etc. P.G. Naiditch (reference in n. 29 above) 130–4, has recently shown that British scholars were reasonably open to continental scholarship from the middle of the 19th century onwards. (37) . (n. 36 above) pp. 115, 117. (38) . (n. 36 above) p. 137.

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Christopher Collard Publications

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

(p.268) Christopher Collard Publications Some brief notes, reviews and notices are omitted. An asterisk marks an article reprinted in this volume. 1963 * ‘Three scribes in Laurentianus 32.2?’, Studi Italiani di Filologia Classica 35, 107–11 ‘Notes on Euripides, Supplices’, Classical Quarterly 13, 178–87 1968 Review: J. Dingel, Das Requisit in der griechischen Tragödie (diss. Tübingen, 1967), Gnomon 40, 194–6 1969 * ‘Athenaeus, the Epitome, Eustathius and quotations from Tragedy’, Rivista di Filologia e di Istruzione Classica 97, 157–79 1970 ‘Theme and structure in Horace, Odes 1.35’, Latomus 29, 122–7 * ‘On the tragedian Chaeremon’, Journal of Hellenic Studies 90, 22–34 1971 Supplement to the Allen-Italie Concordance to Euripides, Groningen * ‘A proposal for a Lexicon to Euripides’, Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 18, 134–43; ‘Sequel’, BICS 19 (1972) 141 1972 * ‘The Funeral Oration in Euripides’ Supplices', Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 19, 39–53 1973 ‘Euripides, Supplices 176–83’, Rivista di Filologia e di Istruzione Classica 101, 411–13 1974 ‘J.J. Scaliger's Euripidean marginalia’, Classical Quarterly 24, 242–9 1975 Euripides. Supplices, Groningen (2 vols) ‘Formal debates in Euripides' drama’, Greece and Rome 22, 58–71 [reprinted with Addendum in Greek Tragedy. Greece and Rome Studies II, ed. I. McAuslan and P. Walcot (Oxford, 1993) 153–66; and in Oxford Readings in Classical Studies. Euripides, ed. J. Mossman (Oxford, 2003) 64–80] 1976 ‘Medea and Dido’, Prometheus 1, 131–51 * ‘Jeremiah Markland, 1693–1776’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 22, 1–13 * The Study of Greek Tragedy, Inaugural Lecture, University College Swansea

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Christopher Collard Publications 1978 Review: S.G. Daitz, Euripides. Hecuba (Leipzig, 1973), Gnomon 50, 69–71 Review: P. Vellacott, Ironic Drama. A Study of Euripides' Method and Meaning (Cambridge, 1975), Classical Review 28, 6–7 Review: P. Walcot, Greek Drama in its Theatrical and Social Context (Cardiff, 1976), Classical Review 28, 69–70 Review: K.H. Lee, Euripides. Troades (London, 1976), Classical Review 28, 223–4 1979 ‘βινεîν and Aristophanes, Lysistrata 934’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 4.10, 213–14 Review: Reading Greek (JACT Greek Course), Liverpool Classical Monthly 4.10, 221– 34 1980 * ‘On stichomythia’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 5.4, 77–85 Review: M. McDonald, A Semi-lemmatized Concordance to Euripides' Alcestis (Irvine, 1977), Journal of Hellenic Studies 100, 220 1981 Euripides. Greece and Rome New Surveys in the Classics, No.14, Oxford Composite Index to the ‘Clarendon’ Commentaries on Euripides, 1938–71, Groningen 1984 Euripides. Supplices, Leipzig Review: B. Seidensticker, Palintonos Harmonia, Studien zum komischen Element in der griechischen Tragödie, Hypomnemata 72 (Göttingen, 1982), Classical Review 34, 199–201 * Review: J. Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae II (Oxford, 1981) and Studies on the Text of Euripides (Oxford 1981), Classical Review 34, 9–15 1986 * Review: J. Diggle, Euripidis Fabulae I (Oxford, 1984), Classical Review 36, 17–24 Review: R. Seaford, Euripides. Cyclops (Oxford, 1984), Liverpool Classical Monthly 11.10, 171–3 1989 Review: C.W. Willink, Euripides. Orestes (Oxford, 1986), Classical Review 39, 13–15 ‘Menander, Samia 96–115’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 14.7, 101–2 1990 * ‘The stasimon Euripides, Hecuba 905–52’, Sacris Erudiri 31 (1989–90), 85–97 Hecuba * ‘The date of Euripides' Supplices and the date of Tim Rice's Chess’, Liverpool Classical Monthly 15.3, 48 1991 ‘Euripides, Hecuba 1056–1106: monody of the blinded Polymestor’, Estudios Actuales sobre Textos Griegos I, ed. J.A. López Férez (Madrid), 161–73 Euripides. Hecuba, Warminster 1993 ‘Gilbert Murray on Rudyard Kipling: an unpublished letter’, Notes and Queries 238, 63–4 ‘A Victorian classical ‘outsider’: F.A. Paley (1816–1888), with an *‘Appendix: Another ‘Outsider’: Charles Badham (1813–84)’, Liverpool Classical Monthly Classical Papers No. 3, ed. H.D. Jocelyn (Liverpool), 329–41 * ‘The Pirithous Fragments’, Da Homero a Libanio, Estudios Actuales sobre Textos Griegos II, ed. J.A. López Férez (Madrid), 183–93 1995 Euripides. Selected Fragmentary Plays I (with M.J. Cropp and K.H. Lee), Warminster (see also 2007) ‘Aeschylus, Septem contra Thebas 577’, L'Antiquité Classique 64, 185–6 * ‘Two early collectors of Euripidean fragments: Dirk Canter (1545–1617) and Joshua Barnes (1654–1712)’, L'Antiquité Classique 64, 243–56 1996 * ‘F.A. Paley’, Liverpool Classical Monthly Classical Papers No. 5, ed. H.D. Jocelyn (Liverpool), 67–81 1997 Review: W. Stockert, Euripides. Hippolytos (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1994), Classical Review 47, 22–3 Review: M. Hose, Drama und Gesellschaft. Studien zur dramatischen Produktion in Athen am Ende des 5. Jahrhunderts, Drama. Beiträge zum antiken Drama und seiner Rezeption 3 (Stuttgart, 1995), Classical Review 47, 26–8 Review: G. Bárberi Squarotti, La rete mortale: caccia e cacciatore nelle tragedie di Euripide (Caltanisetta, 1993), Classical Review 47, 196–7

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Christopher Collard Publications 1999 Review: W. Stockert, Euripides. Iphigenie in Aulis, Wiener Studien Beiheft 16 (Wien, 1992), Classical Review 49, 251–2 * Review: J. Diggle, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta (Oxford, 1998), Bryn Mawr Classical Review 1999.03.01 (electronic publication) 2002 Aeschylus. Oresteia, trans. with introduction and notes, Oxford [repr. in ‘World's Classics’ (Oxford, 2003)] 2004 ‘ΑΡΤΟΤΥΡΟΙΝΟΚΑΡΠΟΠΛΑΚΟΥΝΤΟΜΙΚΡΑΝΘΟΛΟΓΙΟΥ … delectum paruum … recensuit etc.’, in A Year of Cakes. Recipes and Recollections of Philological Lunches in honour of Anna Morpurgo Davies, ed. R. Ashdowne and I. Döttinger, Oxford, 3–6 Euripides. Selected Fragmentary Plays II (with M.J. Cropp and J. Gibert), Oxford Entries for C. Badham, P.P. Dobree, P. Elmsley and mainName="foreNames="F.A." mainName="Paley"" in Oxford Dictionary of National Biography Entries for some scholars of Greek Tragedy in The Dictionary of British Classicists, ed. R.D. Todd (Bristol): C. Badham, J. Barnes, F.H.M. Blaydes, C.J. Blomfield, G. Burges, R. Dawes, P.P. Dobree, *P. Elmsley, B. Heath, J. Jackson, R.C. Jebb (jointly with C.A. Stray), D.W. Lucas, J. Markland, *J.H. Monk, *S. Musgrave, G. Norwood, F.A. Paley, A.C. Pearson, J. Pearson, A.W. Pickard–Cambridge, A. Sidgwick, T. Stanley, P.T. Stevens, T. Tyrwhitt 2005 ‘Euripidean fragmentary plays: the nature of sources and their effect on reconstruction’, in Lost Dramas of Classical Athens, ed. F. McHardy, J. Robson, D. Harvey, Exeter, 49–62 [written in 1996] Review: N. Pechstein, Euripides Satyrographos (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 2000), Classical Review 55, 415–16 Review of F. Nenci, Hgioco nella scena tragica (Pisa, 2004), Classical Review 55, 421– 2 ‘Colloquial language in tragedy: a supplement to the work of P.T. Stevens’, Classical Quarterly 55, 350–86 2006 Review: C.W. Müller, Philoktet. Beiträge zur Wiedergewinning einer Tragödie des Euripides (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1997) and Euripides. Philoktet (Berlin and New York, 2000), Gnomon 78, 106–13 ‘Tragic persons in pieces, in fragments at first, and lastly in Choephori 211’, in Dionysalexandros. Essays on Aeschylus and his fellow tragedians in honour of Alexander F. Garvie, ed. D. Cairns & V. Liapis, Swansea, 49–61 ‘Euripides, Cresphontes F 456’, L'Antiquité Classique 75, 161–2 2007 Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans. Selected Papers, Exeter: Bristol Phoenix Press. in ‘Schoolmaster, don, educator: Arthur Sidgwick moves to Corpus in 1979’, in C.A. press Stray (ed.), Oxford Classics: Proceedings of a Colloquium on Classical Scholarship in 19th and 20th century Oxford, Corpus Christi College Oxford, 4 February 2006 (London, 2007) ‘Gilbert Murray's Greek editions’, in C.A. Stray (ed.), Gilbert Murray Reassessed (Oxford, 2007) ‘Euripides, Alcestis 320–2: an old conjecture revived’, Classical Quarterly (2007) Review: The Further Academic Papers of Sir Hugh Lloyd-Jones (Oxford, 2006), Classical Review (2007) Euripides. Selected Fragmentary Plays I (with M.J. Cropp & †K.H. Lee see under 1995), corrected edition with addenda (Oxford, 2007) Aeschylus. Persians and Other Plays, transl. with introduction and notes (Oxford, 2008) ‘Atreids in fragments (and elsewhere)’ (contribution to a Festschrift, 2008) in preparation Euripides. Fragments (with M.J. Cropp), Loeb Classical Library (2 vols, Harvard, 2008) contributions to P. O'Sullivan, Euripides. Cyclops and Major Satyric Fragments, Oxbow Books (Oxford, 2009) Euripides. Iphigenia in Aulis (Oxford, 2009/10)

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Christopher Collard Publications editorial work: General Editor for Euripides (Aris and Phillips, Warminster, and now Oxbow Books, Oxford): 17 vols since 1986, 3 further vols in preparation General Advisor and Editor for Classical Texts (Oxbow Books) since 2006 Classical Quarterly, 1997–2002 Small editorial participation in Dictionary of British Classicists (Bristol, 2004: above) (p.269) (p.270) (p.271) (p.272)

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Index

Tragedy, Euripides and Euripideans Christopher Collard

Print publication date: 2007 Print ISBN-13: 9781904675730 Published to Liverpool Scholarship Online: January 2014 DOI: 10.5949/liverpool/9781904675730.001.0001

(p.273) Index Adés, Thomas, America 139 Adrastus in Eur. Supp. 115–16, 117, 127–9 Aeschylus: editions 248, 250, 252–3, 255–6, 258, 259–60 (scholia), 263 n. 10 fragments 94, 95, 99–100, 203 first edition 200, 209 n. 41 lexicography 4, 163 n. 11, 165 n. 19 passages Eum. 585–6 18 F 146 73 various 253 Alcestis (text) 184, 185 Alcibiades (in Sophocles) 232 Allen, J.T. 156 Anaxagoras 57, 61 Andromache (text) 184, 185, 187 1121 187 Antiope (text) 102 Arethas 88 n. 30, 91 Aristophanes: Frogs 464ff. 67 Lys. 1 63 Aristotle: Poet. 1447b20–2, 1459b32–60a2 36 Rhet. 1413b12 35–6 Arnott, W.G. 89–92 Arrowsmith, W. 9 Athenaeus 34, 41–2 methods of citation by 69–92 (esp. 76–7, 84, 85, 90–2) accuracy 76–85, 92 citations appearing twice in 77–9 few Euripidean fragments in 85 1a–73e (the Epitome) 70–6, 77, 86 n. 6, 90 Page 1 of 9

Index passages 36d 79 158e 81 158f–9a 79–80 159bc 81–2 250f 79 280b = 547c 77–8, 80 303a 71 413cde 71, 82 415b 82 496a 57, 64 503c 72 587a 83 608d 41–2, 54 679a 85 Australia, classics in 19th-cent. 242–5 Bacchae 683ff. 45 bacchants in art 45, 55 Badham, C. 241–5 Barlow, S.A. 4, 147, 148, 164 Barnes, J. 196, 198–204, 208–12, 223 n. 8 biography 199, 210–12 letters 211 History of Edward III 211 2nd ed. of his Euripides 203, 208 n. 32 Bentley, R. 203, 208 n. 34, 209 n. 38, 213, 217, 222 n. 4, 239–40 Betts, J. viii Bibliotheca Classica 249, 251–2, 257, 260, 262, 263 nn. 7, 8 biography, Greek 123 bishops, ‘Greek play’ 234, 238 Blaydes, F.H.M. 244 n. 3, 245 Bond, G.W. 173 Bowie, A.M. 140 Bowyer, W. 215, 222 n. 1 Cambridge, University of: St John's College 247–8 Tripos 247 Canfora, L. 90–1 Canter, Dirk 193–7, 200–3, 204–8 Canter, Willem 194, 197 Catholic classical scholars, 19th–cent. 248–9 Chaeremon 31–55 imagery 38–9, 42–3, 46–8, 54–5 (p.274) Achilles Thersitoctonus 37, 52 F 1 42–3, 54 Alphesiboea 36, 42, 54 F 1 41–3, 54 Centaurus 36, 37, 52 F 14b 32–3, 52 Page 2 of 9

Index Dionysus 37 Io 37 Minyae 37, 49, 53 Odysseus 37, 53 Oeneus 33–4, 38, 43–8, 54–5 F 14 36, 43–8, 54–5 Thyestes 37 Clement of Alexandria, Strom. V. 115 57 Cobet, G.C. 241–2 Cockle, H.M. 59 Collins, D. 28 colours 42–3, 47–8 comedy, fragments collected 193, 234 commentaries on tragedy 3, 6–7, 12–13 n. 14 with English notes 250 concordances: see lexicography Cresphontes (text) 103 Cretes (text) 103–4, 106 Critias 56–68 (esp. 60–1, 63–4, 67–8) ?Pirithous 56–68, 96, 105 and n. 1 F 1 58, 62–3 F 3 61 F 4 57–8, 61 ?Sisyphus (F 19) 105 Cropp, M.J. 51, 52, 62 Cyclops (text) 184, 185 136 80 410 79 534 79 [Danae F 1132]199, 205 n. 9 Davies, M. 62 Davy, Sir Humphry 233 Delatte, L. 162, 167 Diggle, J. viii, 11 n. 3, 93–106 passim, 159, 169–79 passim, 180–90 passim, 253–4, 262 Dihle, A. 63, 123 Dobree, P.P. 234–5 Dolfi, E. 55 Dover, Sir Kenneth 68 Electra 518–44 175 Elmsley, P. 206 n. 15, 218, 233–6 enjambement of lyric strophes 144, 152 n. 16 epitaphioi 121–4, 129, 133 n. 23 Erbse, H. 70, 75, 91, 116 Erectheus (text) 102–3 etymologising names 118, 123, 134 nn. 31, 32, 33 Euripides: editions, commentaries 169–79, 180–90, 215, 224 n. 23, 230, 238–9, 253–7 (textual notes 253–4), 256, 259–60, 261–2 lexicography 4, 155–165 Page 3 of 9

Index manuscripts and collations 109–14, 170–1, 180, 181–2, 219, 229, 233, 240, 258, 265 n. 28 ms. L 109–14 ms. P 111 n. 1 mss. L and P 113–14, 170–1 metrical criteria of dating 62, 140 papyri 61 prologues 62 plays: see under individual titles fragments generally 14, 56–68, 94, 97–8, 106, 193–212 passim, 230, 243 seldom cited by Athenaeus 85 textual discussions 101–5 F 46 101 F 282 71, 73, 82, 102 F 324 81–2 F 545a (=909 Nauck) 98 F 892 81 vit. Eur. p. 3.2. Schwartz 57, 64 Eustathius 70, 74–6, 90, 91, 92 Finglass, P. 236 Fitton, J.W. 116, 187 Fraenkel, E. 19, 25, 254, 261 fragments: see Aeschylus, Athenaeus, comedy, Euripides, Sophocles, tragedy (p.275) funeral orations: see epitaphioi German scholarship known in England 241, 261, 267 n. 22 Gould, J.P.A. 25 Greenwood, L.H.G. 23–4, 129 Grimal, P. 162, 167 Grotius, H. 194–6, 202 Gruys, J.A. 193–5, 204–7 passim Hearne, T. 211 Heath, B. 208–9 n. 34, 230 Hecuba imagery 141–2, 143–7, 148–50 stasima 141–4, 149–51, 153–4 passages in general 558–61 46 905–52 141–54 textual discussions 184, 185, 187–9 599–602 188 905–52 145–7 1162 188–9 Heraclidae (text) 184, 185, 186–7 Hercules (text) 176 Hermann, G. 234–5, 238, 255 Hippolytus (text) 184, 185, 187 ‘Homeric questions’ 255, 266 n. 31 Housman, A.E. 213, 242, 249 Hurd, R. 217, 224 n. 25 Page 4 of 9

Index Hypsipyle (text) 104 IG V.2.118 (=DID B 11 TrGF) 52 imagery in tragedy 4, 38–9, 41–3, 45–7; see also under Chaeremon; Hecuba Ion (text) 177 index verborum: see lexicography Innes, D. viii Iphigenia at Aulis 221 Iphigenia in Tauris (text) 177, 221 Italie, G. 156 Jens, W. 20–2 Johnson, Dr Samuel 7, 9, 216, 224 n. 21, 232, 257 Kannicht, R. 11, 68, 93, 159 Kassel, R. 195, 204–5 n. 1 Kenney, E.J. 223 n. 8, 224 n. 18 Kensington, Catholic University College of 248–9 Kovacs, D. 12 Kuiper, K. 59, 61, 67 lamentation in tragedy 124, 126–7 Leaf, W. 248, 264 n. 19, 266 n. 31 Lehnus, L. 231 Lloyd-Jones, Sir Hugh 253 lexicography of individual authors 155–68 Maas, P. 70, 73, 74–6, 91 Madan, F. 206 Madan, G. 206 Medea (text) 184, 185–6 72–59, 1056–80, 186 ‘medical’ classicists 231–2 manuscripts: majuscule into minuscule 74, 87–8 n. 26 Laurentianus 32.2 (L) and Palatinus Graecus 287 (P): see Euripides Marcianus 447(A) 68–73, 84 Markland, Jeremiah 213–38 passim marginalia 224–5 n. 34, 227 n. 34; see also Statius, Silvae Mastronarde, D. 182, 254 Matthiessen, K. 113, 114, 170, 180 Mellor, Kay, her Gifted 139 Menander, lexicography 164 n. 10, 165 n. 19, 168 n. 19 metre: rhythm and ethos 144 dactylo–epitrite 143–4 iambic trimeter in 4th-cent. tragedy 41 Mette, H.J. 60, 63 Meursius (J. de Meurs) 207 n. 22 Michelini, A.M. 150–1, 153 mirrors 145 Monk, J.H. 237–40 Moorhouse, A.C. 12 n. 7 Morelli, G. 52 Page 5 of 9

Index Mund-Dopchie, M. 205 nn. 4, 6 Murray, G. 116, 161, 169–80 passim, 180–90 passim, 253–4 Musgrave, S. 219, 229–32, 234 (p.276) Newman, J.H. (Cardinal) 242, 248 Oedipus (Eur.) 97–8 Oeneus 44–5 Oeneus (Eur.) 33–4 Oldfather, W. 162–3, 166 Page, Sir Denys 253 painting 43, 45, 46–7, 47, 52, 55 Paley, F.A. 239, 243, 244 n. 4, 246–67 papyri: PBerlin 13217 (lost) 103–4, (refound) 106 PHerc 1074, 1081, 1676 51 PHib 4 33–4, 51–2 179 170, 178 224 32–3 PMich inv.6973 103 POxy 2078 56, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62 2369 100 2455 58, 59 2458 103 2459 97–8 3317 97, 105 n. 2 3531 56, 58, 59, 61 PSI 1286 58, 59 PSorb 2252 102 Pelling C. 140 Peppink, S.M. 70–4, 75–6, 91 Phaethon (text) 104–5 Philodemus: On Poems III (PHerc 1074 etc.) 51 On Piety 521–8 68 Piatkowski, A. 51–4 ‘Piraeus Catalogue’ CAT B.1 TrGF 58 Pirithous: myth 60 drama 58–68 Pirithous (?Eur.) 56–68 (esp. 57–9, 61–4, 67–8); see also Critias Pollux IV. 113 18 Pompella, G. 165 nn. 19, 20, 168 Porson, R. 234–5, 237–8 Powell, J. Enoch 158 Powell, J. Undershell 231 Python, Agen 91 F 1 78, 88 n. 39 Quaglia, R. 90 Rhadamanthys (?Eur.) 57–9, 61, 63 Rhesus 63, 67, 97 Rice, Sir Tim, his Chess 138 Page 6 of 9

Index Rigo, G. 155, 163 nn. 11, 12, 164 n. 14, 165 nn. 19, 20 Satyrus, Life of Euripides fr.37 col.2 57 Scaliger, J.J. 194, 205 n. 10, 207, nn. 18, 26, 208 n. 29 Schadewaldt, W. 7, 24 Schott, Andreas 194–5, 202, 206 n. 11 Schwinge, E.R. 22 Segal, C. 154 Seidensticker, B. 22 ‘Seven against Thebes’, in Eur. Supp. 117–20, 123 Shilleto, R. 264 n. 24 Sidgwick, A. 253, 260, 266 n. 34 Sisyphus (Eur.) 59, 60, 68; see also Critias Smereka, J. 164 Smith, Wesley D. 116, 133 n. 22 Smith, Sir William 243 n. 3, 267 n. 36 Snell, B. 31, 56, 62 Sophocles: editions 234, 236, 252–3, 260–1 lexicography 4, 163 n. 11, 165 n. 19 manuscripts 234, 236 fragments generally 94, 96, 196 first edition of 209 n. 41 textual discussions Ajax 1329 71 Locrian Ajax F 10c 100 Ant. 1165–71 77–8, 80 Ichneutae 100–1, F 314.282–3 79 of fragments F 502 83 F 564 85 F 762 85, 92 various 100–1 Sositheus 99 F 2.6–8 82 Southey, R. 234 Spranger, J.A. 109–10 Stanley, T. 200, 203, 209 n. 41 Statius, Silvae 214, 218–19, 221, 226 n. 38, 228 n. 38 statuary 43, 45 (p.277) Stephanopoulos, T.K. 51–3 Sthenoboea (text) 104, 106 stichomythia 5, 16–30 passim in Aeschylus 17, 20–1, 25, 28, 29 in Aristophanes 26 in Euripides 18, 21–4, 26–7, 29–30 in Sophocles 17, 21–2, 27–8, 29 Stobaeus 34 Supplices Evadne scene 135 n. 39 date 138–40 Page 7 of 9

Index passages 838–917 115–37 (esp. 116–20, 133–4 n. 25) 846–56 133 n. 25 860–6 79–80, 91, 130 n. 5 Sydney, University of, 19th-cent. 242 Tennes (?Eur.) 57, 58, 59, 61 Thompson, W.H. 242–3 tragedy: study of 3–15 passim quotations in Athenaeus 69–92 commentaries 3, 6–7, 12–13 n. 14, 250; see also under Euripides fragments 11 n. 3, 34, 56–68 passim, 93–106 passim (esp. 93, 106) Tragici Minores 94, 96–7, 106 (textual notes 105) first edition of 209 n. 41 adespota 97 F 625 33–4, 51–2 F 658 58, 64 lexicography 4, 155–68 passim manuscripts 3–4 structures, formal 4–5, 20 symmetry 18, 20, 28 translations 7–10, 12–13, 14–15 Triclinius, Demetrius 109, 170 Troades 511–67 144, 149 595 (text) 176 Trollope, A. 244 n. 5 Tyrwhitt, T. 230 Valckenaer, L.C. 199–200, 209 n. 14 Van Looy, H. 150 van der Valk, M. 90, 91 Vickers, M. 232 Walker, R.J. 101, 102 Webster, T.B.L. 59, 94 West, M.L. 11 n. 3, 263 n. 10 Wilamowitz, U. von M. 3, 4, 19, 57, 59, 60, 61, 63, 67–8, 112, 119, 161 n. 6, 262 Wilson, N. G. 90, 91, 92, 113, 253, 262 Xanthakis-Karamanos, G. 51–4, 94 Zidane, Zinédine 139 Zuntz, G. 113, 116, 138, 170 (ἀ)γύμναστος 132 n. 17 ἄθεοι, οἱ 63, 68 αἰνόπαρις 145 ἀναγνωστικοί, οἱ 35–6, 52 ἀτέρμων 145 αὐλίτης 89 n. 48 βέλος (of Zeus) 131 n. 9 ἐμβατεύω 149 ἐξέλκω 187 Page 8 of 9

Index ζωγράφος 46 θέαμα ‘gaze’ 46 ναῦς, gen. νηός 79 ξοῦθος 43 ὀπώρα sexual 39 ὅσος 132 n. 13 πανό ς (φανός) 89 n. 45 παρέχω 132 n. 19 πλούσιος 120 πολύπους 188 σοφιστής 132 n. 18 στεφάνη 146 and στέφανος 39, both metaphorical συνηρετ(μ) έω 71, 82 σῶμα metaphorical 39 τέκνον metaphorical 39 τόσος 132 n. 12 χυμός 100

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