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A
HISTORY OF
GREEK
LITERATURE
Peeeeeweleeeeeeeee
ALBIN LESKY
Translated by
JAMES WILLIS and
CORNELIS DE HEER

Feeeeeeeeeeeeeee
This comprehensive history is a schol-
arly but unpedantic survey of one of
the world’s richest literatures. First
published in Switzerland in 1958 and
extensively revised in 1963, it is now
available in English for the first time.
The author discusses in detail the
question of the Homeric epics, the lyric
poetry of the Archaic period, the
drama and philosophy that reached its
peak in the age of the city-state, and the
Greek writings of the Hellenistic, Ro-
man, and early Christian eras. Sum-
maries of important works are unusual-
ly full, and the extensive bibliographies
contain the most recent works.
Albin Lesky is professor of Greek at
the University of Vienna. James Willis
and Cornelis de Heer, who collabo-
rated on the excellent translation, are
respectively reader and lecturer in
classics at the University of Western
Australia.
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 A
HISTORY
OF GREEK
LITERATURE
PE DING GES Key
Translated by James Willis
and Cornelis de Heer

THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY

New York . Established 1834

aD boosDS
 ur
First published as Geschichte der Griechischen Literat
by Francke Verlag, Bern
Copyright © A. Francke 1957/58
Second edition 1963
Ltd 1966
English translation first published by Methuen & Co.
Copyright © Methuen & Co Ltd, 1966
uced
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprod
in any form, except by a reviewer, without the permission
of the publisher.
Printed in Great Britain
Library of Congress Catalog Card No. 65-25033 4/
 CONTENTS

PREFACE TO THE*SECOND EDITION

INTRODUCTION TO THE_FIRST EDITION

THE TRANSMISSION OF GREEK LITERATURE

THE BEGINNINGS

Il THE HOMERIC EPIC

A The Iliad and Odyssey:
I EPIC POETRY BEFORE HOMER

i) THE ILIAD: MATERIALS AND COMPOSITION

3 THE HOMERIC QUESTION

4 THE ODYSSEY: MATERIALS AND COMPOSITION

5 THE ODYSSEY: ANALYTICAL THEORIES

6 CULTURAL LEVELS IN THE HOMERIC POEMS

7 LANGUAGE AND STYLE
8 GODS AND MEN
9 THE TRANSMISSION
The epic cycle
c The Homeric hymns
Other works attributed to Homer

IV THE ARCHAIC PERIOD:

A Hesiod
B Archaic epic after Hesiod 106

c_ Early lyric poetry

I ORIGINS AND TYPES 107
IAMBOS 109
ELEGY a7
SOLON 121
THE LESBIAN LYRIC 128
WN
WY
-
Ann CHORAL LYRIC 148

pv Folk-tales 154
E Religious literature 158

& The beginnings of philosophy 161

vil

CONCORDIA COLLEGE LIBRARY

BRONXVILLE, N.Y. 10708
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

G Mature archaic lyric

I THEOGNIS page 168
iS) THE EPIGRAM AND THE SCOLION

3 ANACREON

4 SONGWRITERS ON THE MAINLAND

5 CHORAL LYRIC

H Philosophy at the end of the archaic period

1 The beginnings of science and historiography
K Beginnings of drama:
I TRAGEDY

2 COMEDY

V THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY SPATE:

A Beginning and culmination of the classical period:
AESCHYLUS

SOPHOCLES

OTHER FORMS OF PORTRY

DAMON AND THE THEORY OF MUSIC

HERODOTUS

OTHER HISTORIANS

PHILOSOPHY

B_ The enlightenment and its opponents:

a THE SOPHISTS AND THE BEGINNINGS OF RHETORIC

EURIPIDES

OTHER TRAGIC WRITERS

OTHER POETRY

POLITICAL COMEDY

POLITICAL WRITINGS

THUCYDIDES

THE SCIENCES

WN
WY
FS
AnH
OmY
Oo SOCRATES

c The fourth century up to Alexander:

PLATO AND THE ACADEMY

ARISTOTLE AND THE PERIPATOS

THE ART OF RHETORIC

HISTORIOGRAPHY

DRAMA

OTHER FORMS OF PORTRY

Vii
 CONTENTS

ViS lobe oeBLERNISTIG AGE

A Athens:
I NEW COMEDY page 642
2 ATTIC PROSE 665
ro) THE PHILOSOPHICAL SYSTEMS 669
The new centres:
GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS 694.
CALLIMACHUS 700
THEOCRITUS 718
APOLLONIUS 728
EPIGRAM 737
DRAMA 743
OTHER POETRY 750
HISTORIOGRAPHY 764.
THE SCIENCES 783
PSEUDOPYTHAGOREAN LITERATURE 796
Er JEWISH-HELLENISTIC LITERATURE 799

Vil THE EMPIRE

A Poetry 807

B Prose:
PLUTARCH 819
THE SECOND SOPHISTIC 829
HISTORIOGRAPHERS AND PERIEGETES 845
PROSE ROMANCE AND EPISTOLOGRAPHY 857
THE SECOND SOPHISTIC IN THE LATER ERA 870
PHILOSOPHY 874
SNS
HH
HN
WY
& THE
NDNWNW SCIENCES 888

INDEX 898

A2 ix
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BD TP ION

I was encouraged to produce a second edition of this book by the kindness of

some friends and colleagues, who said that they had found it useful in their
studies and that they would welcome even fuller references than in the first
edition to problems still unsolved and to accepted solutions. To meet these
requirements meant a great deal of labour, but the labour has brought pleasure
in its train, for the quantity and quality of recent work has attested the vigorous
life of a scholarship which means to keep alive the classical inheritance of our
own time. Two things need only be stated in passing: the selection could only
be a narrow one, and the wish to bring out the essential must needs contain a
subjective element. But the end before my eyes has always been to select from
the literature what would enable the serious researcher to follow up the earlier
history of the problems.
Rather reluctantly I have fallen in with the wish of friends and critics (often,
I was glad to see, the same) and printed the notes at the bottoms of the pages,
thus spoiling the simplicity of the printed page. Where the formula ‘see below’
occurs in them, it normally refers to the bibliography at the end of the chapter.
Not many pages have remained unchanged. The sections on Homer and Plato
were among those which demanded large-scale rewriting, and one on pseudo-
Pythagorean writings has been added. In so far as the new treatment is an
improvement, I am indebted for it largely to the help of others. Errors have
been corrected and valuable references given by careful and nearly always con-
structive critics. It is not through ingratitude to those not named if I single out
J. C. Kamerbeek and F. Zucker as having been particularly helpful. I benefited
not only from printed critiques, but also from private correspondents to a
degree which caused me both delight and shame. In this connection I should
mention above all Wolfgang Buchwald and Franz Dollnig, who also lent me
their services in correcting the proofs and devoted more pains to the book than
I can well express.
There are two important principles in which I have remained true to the
positions which I took up in the first edition.
I have remained sceptical of the value of summings-up which try to finish a
section by characterizing a great author in a couple of sentences. The ideal of
synthesis is very well, but I think it better served by an exposition which tries
to group the multiplicity of phenomena around a firm core, or, if necessary, to
show them as the end of a long development.
The different scale of treatment given to different periods had to be retained
if only for practical reasons. Otherwise it would have been impossible to com-
press the work into one volume of (I hope) still manageable size. In any case,
x1
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

I still believe that this inequality of emphasis can be justified on the grounds
which I gave in the first edition. An acute but kindly critic brought up against
me the passage of E. R. Curtius (Kritische Essays zur europdischen Literatur. 2nd
ed. Berne 1954, p. 318) which describes late antiquity as the age of harvest and
sweet fruitfulness, of wide horizons and of unfettered choice. Certainly no one
would deny the amount of beautiful and significant literature produced from
Theocritus to Plotinus. But there can be no doubt where Europe’s spiritual
foundations lie. If it is wrong to deplore the dominance of rhetoric in late
antiquity, the author must enter a plea of guilty. It is not perhaps absurd to
suggest that Curtius’ words mark a milestone on that road which led him to
those utterances on the sinking light of Hellas which many must wish that he
had kept to himself.
In our day also we look with hope on the light of Hellas, and possibly this
book in its new form may help to prevent the realization of that distressing
possibility which is hinted at in the Historische Fragmente of Jacob Burkhardt:
“We can never be free of the ancient world, unless we become barbarians
again.

VIENNA ALBIN GEE SKA

Xl
 PeeleLG) Ne Ceeit beri as 1
EDITION

Artis the true interpreter. If we talk about art we are trying to interpret
the interpreter: yet even so we profit greatly thereby.—Gortue,
Maxims and Reflexions on Art.

The organs of recognition, without which no true reading is possible,

are reverence and love. Knowledge cannot dispense with them, for it
can grasp and analyse only what love takes possession of, and without
love it is empty—EMiL STAIGER, Meisterwerke deutscher Sprache.

To write literary history is reckoned nowadays by some to be a menial, by

others almost an impossible, task. The latter view has something to be said for
it, but the situation resulting from such pessimism is far from pleasing. We have
short outlines of Greek literature, among which the little masterpiece of Walter
Kranz stands high above the rest, while at the other extreme we have the five
volumes produced by the gigantic industry of Wilhelm Schmid, of which the
last brings the story to the end of the fifth century B.c. Between these two
extremes lies a vacant space. There is no convenient work in English or German
which presents our knowledge of the subject so as to give a broad outline for
the student, initial guidance to the researcher, and to the interested public a
speedy but not a superficial approach to the literature of Greece.
I hope that my work may fill this gap. But the compression of such extensive
material within the intended compass has only been possible because of certain
deliberate restrictions, which need to be explained.
The first of these touches Christian Greek literature, which would have
strained the limits of this volume, and which is important enough to demand
separate treatment. To leave out parts of Jewish Greek literature was a harder
decision; but they could only be treated marginally in relation to the main
subject. Furthermore, no history of a literature can be expected at the same time
to be a history of philosophical thought and of science in the language con-
cerned. Where the Greeks — especially the earlier Greeks — are concerned, this
distinction is harder than elsewhere. Consequently these subjects have been
included, although this history of Greek literature is neither desirous nor
capable of being a history also of Greek philosophy and science.
All this is largely self-explanatory. One point, however, must be given
special prominence. This book deliberately emphasizes literary achievements
which were great and decisive in the rise of western civilization. One can only
avoid a brief and cataloguing manner by not putting equal stress on all the
phenomena — or, to put it differently, by not drawing the map on the same
scale in all parts. I have no intention of chronicling the names of all the 2000 or
xiii
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

so Greek writers known to us, or of listing mechanically works of which we

know nothing beyond the title. Nor are different periods treated in equal
detail. The archaic and classical periods are given the fullest treatment possible
within this compass, and the major achievements of the Hellenistic age are also
handled in detail; but the enormous literary production of the Empire has to
receive shorter shrift. I think that this can be reconciled with the purpose
originally stated for this volume. Our knowledge of antiquity can never deny
its debt to the historical method, which demolished the narrow classicistic
image of the Greeks and brought learned research to bear on every phenomenon
as and where it occurred. But since the end of the war one has again felt aware
of the duty and the right to evaluate the significance of what the historical
method has established. A work which aimed at the utmost completeness
would have to treat Cassius Dio in as much detail as Thucydides, to give as
much space to Musaeus as to Homer. In a history which aims at bringing out
essentials this would be absurd.
I decided on restrictions of this sort in order to be able to treat on a basically
uniform method the great works of Greek literature whose influence has been
felt over the ages. In discussing these I had no intention of sparing detail. Our
age has become too lazy in its attitude to history: behind all the ingenious
subjectivism and the often wrong-headed popularization one detects a shrinking
from honest discussion and a contraction of real knowledge that reminds one
uncomfortably of certain features of late antiquity. This book is meant to play
its modest part in opposing such tendencies. It takes as a maxim what Werner
Jaeger once wrote (Gnomon 1951, 247): ‘It is the problems that are really
important: we have done our best if we leave them open and hand them on
still living to future generations.’ An author’s right to his own opinion can
always be reconciled with the appreciation of other points of view, and often
enough it becomes the scholar’s duty to confess either that we simply do not
know or that there is still doubt.
Today more than ever literary history is torn between conflicting points of
view, and for this reason many writers of it go astray. Some of the opposing
attitudes, each claiming validity, may be briefly indicated: the tracing of genetic
developments and the recording of phenomena in their own right; allowance
for environmental factors and recognition of individuality; subordination to the
genre and rejection ofits limitations; a feeling of closeness to the works described,
arising from our common human viewpoints — although Nietzsche warned us
against ‘impertinent familiarity’ — and one of remoteness from the Greeks as
people who in many ways thought very differently from ourselves. I do not
intend a long theoretical discussion: I merely record my conviction that there
are real oppositions here and that each of the attitudes mentioned has something
to be said for it. We can only usefully come to grips with them in the course of
the history itself.
The most difficult, and in a sense the most distasteful task, has been to divide
the subject into epochs and to subdivide these, since as soon as we start doing so,
living threads begin to be severed. Where Greek literature is concerned, the
xiv
 INTRODUCTION TO THE FIRST EDITION

large divisions are at once obvious, but to divide them further is both difficult
and dangerous. It seemed best, therefore, not to adopt a rigid system, but to
vary the principle of division according to the nature of the material. In the
archaic period, the great epoch of birth and growth, it seemed desirable to make
the division mainly one of literary genres; the age of the city-state demanded
a chronological treatment; in the Hellenistic period, at least in the beginning,
we find the different fields of study strongly associated with particular places.
In general it seemed important not to adopt any scheme of articulation which
would build weirs in a river that flows sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but
is never at a standstill.
My wish to leave problems open has led to the relatively high proportion of
bibliography. Naturally only a selection was possible, and this at once brings
in a subjective element. The basic principle has been to quote as far as possible
the latest contributions to learned controversy; and while I have tried to judge
the intrinsic worth of the items, I have also considered how far they enabled
the student to pursue the subject further afield. Without making any claim to
completeness, even for the more recent years, the bibliographical references
may serve the more serious researcher as stepping stones on the first stages of
his journey. Works frequently cited will be found in the index of abbreviations.
The ominous op. cit. is only used when the work has been cited very shortly
before: usually both that and vid. sup. refer back from the footnotes to the
preceding bibliographical section.
This is not the place to list the copious bibliographical resources available to
the modern scholar, but I should like to mention, in addition to the indis-
pensable L’année philologique, both J. A. Nairn’s Classical Hand-List (Oxf. 1953)
and the very useful Fifty Years of Classical Scholarship (Oxf. 1954).
Among works which I quote in the course of the book I may perhaps refer
to two which have given us a better understanding of wide areas of Greek
literature: Werner Jaeger’s Paideia and Hermann Frinkel’s Dichtung und Philo-
sophie des friihen Griechentums. There is another work, outside the strict philo-
logical tradition, which I will mention for the original and stimulating way in
which it discusses a variety of topics: Alexander Rustow’s Ortsbestimmung der
Gegenwart, Ziirich 1950.

VIENNA ALBIN LESKY

XV
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 EIS ieOrrABBREVLA LIONS
AfdA Anzeiger fiir die Altertumswissenschaft
Am. Journ. Arch. American Journal ofArchaeology
Am. Journ. Phil. American Journal of Philology
Ann. Br. School Ath. Annual of the British School at Athens
Ant. Class. L’ Antiquité classique
Arch. f. Rw. Archiv fiir Religionswissenschaft
Arch. Jahrb, Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archéolog. Instituts
Ath. Mitt. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archdolog. Instituts zu Athen
B. Poetae Lyrici Graeci. Quartis curis rec. Th. Bergk. vols. 2 & 3 (vol.
I contains Pindar) Leipzig 1882. Reprinted with indices by H.
Rubenbauer 1914-15.
BRKT Berliner Klassikertexte herausg. von der Generalverwaltung der
K. Museen zu Berlin
Bull. Corr. Hell. Bulletin de correspondance hellénique
Class. Journ. Classical Journal
Class. Phil. Classical Philology
Class. Quart. Classical Quarterly
Class. Rev. Classical Review
Coll. des Un. de Fr. Collection des Universités de France, publiée sous le patronage de
l’Association Guillaume Budé. Paris, Société d’édition ‘Les Belles-
Lettres’ (with French translation)
Ernst Diehl, Anthologia Lyrica Graeca. 3rd edition: fasc. 1, Leipz.
1949, 2, 1950. 3, 1952. Otherwise in the second ed.: fasc. 4, 1936.
fasc. 5 and 6, 1942 with supplement.
F Gr Hist Felix Jacoby, Die Fragmente der griech. Historiker x ff. Berl. 1923
ff. (normally referred to by Jacoby’s numbers)
Frankel Hermann Frankel, Dichtung und Philosophie des friihen Grie-
chentums, New York 1951; 2nd edition enlarged Munich 1961
GGN Géttinger Gelehrte Nachrichten
Gnom. Gnomon
Gymn. Gymnasium
Harsh Philip Whaley Harsh, A Handbook of Classical Drama. Stanford
and London 1948
Harv. Stud. Harvard Studies in Classical Philology
Herm. (E.) Hermes (Einzelschriften)
Jaeger Werner Jaeger, Paideia, 1, 4th ed.; 2 and 3, 3rd ed. Berl. 1959
Journ. Hell. Stud. Journal ofHellenic Studies
Kitto H. D. F. Kitto, Greek Tragedy. 3rd ed. London 1961
Lesky Albin Lesky, Die tragische Dichtung der Hellenen, Gottingen 1956
Xvill
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

ILA Edgar Lobel and Denys Page, Poetarum Lesbiorum Fragmenta,

Oxford 1955
Mnem. Mnemosyne
Mus. Helv. Museum Helveticum
N. Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta ed. A. Nauck. 2nd edition
Leipzig 1889.
N. Jahrb. Neue Jahrbiicher fiir das klassische Altertum
Ost. Jahrh. Jahreshefte des Osterr. Archdolog. Institutes in Wien
Ox. Pap. B. P. Grenfell, A. S. Hunt, H. I. Bell, E. Lobel and others, The
Oxyrhynchus Papyri, 1 ff. London 1898.
Roger A. Pack, The Greek and Latin Literary Texts from Greco-
Roman Egypt. Ann Arbor Univ. of Michigan Press 1952
Pap. Soc. It. G. Vitelli, M. Norsa ed altri, Pubblicazioni della Societa Italiana per
la Ricerca dei Papiri Greci e Latini in Egitto. 1 ff. Florence 1912 ff.
Pf. Rudolf Pfeiffer, Callimachus. 2 vols. Oxf. 1949-53
Phil. Philologus
Pohlenz Max Pohlenz, Die griechische Tragédie. 2 vols. 2nd ed. Gottingen
1954
RE Pauly-Wissowa, Realenzyklopddie der classischen Altertums-
wissenschaft
Rev. Et. Gr. Revue des études grecques
Rev. Phil. Revue de philologie
Rhein. Mus. Rheinisches Museum
Riv. Fil. Rivista di Filologia e d’ Istruzione Classica
Schmid Wilhelm Schmid, Geschichte der griechischen Literatur. I. Miillers
Handbuch der Altertumswiss. VII: 1, Munich 1929. 2, 1934. 3,
1940. 4, 1946. 5, 1948
Schw. Beitr. Schweizerische Beitrage zur Altertumswissenschaft
Severyns A. Severyns, Homere. 1, 2nd ed. Brussels 1944. 2, 1946. 3, 1948
Stud. It. Studi Italiani di filologia classica
Suidas Suidae Lexicon ed. A. Adler, 5 vols. Leipzig 1928-38
Symb. Osl. Symbolae Osloenses
Tebt. Pap. B. P,. Grenfell, Aj S2Hunt, ]. G. Smyly, E. J. Goodspeed, The
Tebtunis Papyri. 1 ff. London 1902 ff.
Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association
VS H. Diels - W. Kranz, Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker. 3rd ed.
Berlin 1954. I refer to the authors by the numbers assigned to
them in this edition
Wien. Stud. Wiener Studien
Zet. Zetemata. Monographien zur klass. Altertumswiss. Herausgegeben
von Erich Burck und Hans Diller

xvi
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 CHAPTER I

The Transmission of Greek

Literature

The extent of Greek literature as we have it, together with the accidents of its
transmission, has been determined by historical events stretching over several
thousand years, in which the most diverse political and cultural factors have been
at work.! Since we shall often need to mention particular instances of these, the
more important deserve to be outlined at the very beginning.
Until well towards the end of antiquity the Greeks wrote on papyrus. This
material had been known to the Egyptians since the third millennium s.c., and
they enjoyed a monopoly of its production, since the papyrus reed grew only
in the Nile valley. This reed had many uses: the most valuable was in making a
material for writing. The stalk was first cut into thin strips, then two layers were
superimposed on one another with the grain running at right angles, the recto
having it horizontal and the verso vertical. When pressed together and allowed
to dry, the layers stuck firmly together. Several sheets of this substance, glued
edge to edge, produced the roll, the standard form of book in antiquity. This
was the medium both for preliminary drafts and for finished work, unless
indeed the first sketches might be made on writing-tablets — hinged leaves of
wood with the inner surface covered with a dark wax. All such material was of
course extremely perishable, and in consequence the author’s original auto-
graph, common enough in modern literature, is almost never to be found
among the writings of the ancients. Here and there we might hazard a guess
that some scrap of papyrus could have been in the author’s own writing, but
such a survival as that in the Bibliotheca Marciana of Eustathius’ commentary
on Homer, in the author’s own hand (Eustathius was archbishop of Thessa-
lonica in the twelfth century), finds no parallel in the classical period. Neverthe-
less, we can know a good deal about the way in which the great classical authors
wrote their works. They wrote throughout in capital letters without word-
division, and since they used neither accents nor breathings, they would have
given incomparably greater difficulty to the reader than the modern printer
does. Punctuation was equally neglected: in Attic prose texts of Isocrates’ time
(cf. Antidosis 59) we know that ends of sentences were indicated by a sign in the
© A. DAIN, Les Manuscrits. Paris 1949.G.PASQUALI, Storia della tradizione e critica del testo. 2nd
ed. Florence 1952. Id. Gnom. 23, 1951, 233. H. HUNGER, O. STEGMULLER, H. ERBSE, M. IMHOF,
K. BUCHNER, H. I. BECK, H. RUDIGER, Geschichte der Textiiberlieferung der antiken und mittel-
alterlichen Literatur. Bd. I: Antikes und mittelalterliches Buch- und Schriftwesen. Ziirich 1961.
2 A. BOMER-W. MENN, ‘Die Schrift und ihre Entwicklung’. Handb. d. Bibliothekswiss. ed.
2, 1/1, Stuttg. 1950. The other sections ofthis work (znd ed. 1950 onwards) also contain relevant
and useful material.
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

margin. In Attic drama a mere horizontal dash (paragraphos) served to mark a

change of speaker — a practice which has not helped the preservation of the
text. The practice also of writing lyric parts continuously, like prose, gave later
grammarians many problems. There is no need to stress the many kinds of
mistake possible in copying such texts.
We can only guess when literary works were first put about in the form of
books.! Aristotle was able to study Heraclitus in writing; Hecataeus began his
Genealogiae with a pompous introduction clearly intended for publication.
These facts suggest that the origin of the Greek book is to be looked for in the
early Ionian scientific school. Both these authors take us back to the close of the
sixth century: how much further back we must put the book as a vehicle of
literature we cannot say. It must have reached Athens by the fifth century, when
she became the cultural centre of the Greek world, and we may well think that
some part was played in its introduction by Anaxagoras, who came from the
Ionian city of Clazomenae and was specially influential in Athens. Technical
literature in several fields can be shown to have existed in Athens from the mid-
fifth century onwards, and most probably it was in the form of books. The
frequent use of tragic parody in Aristophanes seems also to assume in his
audience a knowledge of the great tragedians such as they could scarcely acquire
without reading; and the references in Old Comedy to booksellers (BuBAvo-
mwAns)* put the matter beyond any doubt.
The oldest Greek book known to us is the Persae of Timotheus (no. 1206 P.),
found in a tomb at Abusir in Lower Egypt. The poet belonged to the ‘new
dithyramb’ school and lived c. 450-360 B.c., while the papyrus is of the fourth
century, possibly before Alexander’s invasion. There is no other manuscript of a
classical work so near the writer’s lifetime as this. The papyrus is written in a
clumsy hand in extraordinarily broad columns, and Turner has recently shown
good grounds for not taking it as typical of the Greek book of that date.
The fourth century saw a great increase in the popularity of the book. Plato
(Phaedr. 274 C ff.) speaks of the shortcomings of written works as a means of
teaching. There was no literary copyright, and widely read texts were inevitably
tampered with or corrupted. It is significant that the speaker and statesman
Lycurgus tried to protect the works of the great tragedians by providing an
official state text — although actors’ interpolations were probably the greatest
evil here. We shall see later how the Homeric texts fell into disorder at this time.
It is against this background that we should try to weigh up the achievement
of Alexandrian scholarship, with its vital importance to Greek literature. It was
* TH. BIRT, Das antike Buchwesen in seinem Verhdltnis zur Literatur. Berl. 1882. Repr.
Aalen/Wiirttb. 1959. w. scHUBART, Das Buch bei den Griechen und Rémern. 2nd ed. Berl. 1921.
G. KENYON, Books and Readers in Ancient Greece and Rome. 2nd ed. Oxf. 1951. E. G. TURNER,
Athenian Books in the fifth and fourth centuries B.C. Lond. 1952. T. E. SKEAT, ‘The use of
dictation in ancient book-production’. Proc. Brit. Acad. 42, 1956 (Oxf. 1957), 179. H. L.
PINNER, The World of Books in Classical Antiquity. Leyden 1958. There is a splendid intro-
duction to the subject with bibliography by H. Hunger in the first volume of the Geschichte
der Textiiberlieferung (v. sup.).
2 Theopompus fr. 77K. 77E. Nicophon 19K. 9E. Aristomenes 9K. OE.
2
 THE TRANSMISSION OF GREEK LITERATURE
Ptolemy I in the last years of his reign who founded the ‘Museum’ in Alex-
andria: this was intended, with the addition of a great library,’ to become the
general centre of literature and scholarship. The foundation may well have been
influenced by the precedent of the Peripatos and Demetrius of Phalerum, who
arrived in Alexandria as a refugee in 297. The library was designed by Ptolemy
I Philadelphus with the intention of assembling Greek literature in its entirety:
enthusiasm, foresight and a complete lack of scruple went into the amassing of
$00,000 volumes, which must have risen to some 700,000 by the time of the
disaster in 47 B.c. The gigantic catalogue (Pinaces) compiled by Callimachus
thus amounted to a stocktaking of Greek literature as it then existed. The reign
of Ptolemy II saw also the setting up of a smaller library in the Serapeum,
intended for a wider public. The Museum, however, became the accepted place
for the definitive establishment of classical texts and the issuing of critical
editions. The activity of the Alexandrians as commentators will concern us
elsewhere.
It is not hard to understand what the burning of the library in 47 B.c. must
have meant. If we are to believe the propaganda of his enemies, Mark Antony
had the library of Pergamum brought to Alexandria, supposedly as a replace-
ment (cf. Plut. Ant. 58). We can only suppose that it went to the Serapeum,
which in turn suffered destruction through the activities of the patriarch Theo-
philus in a.D. 391. After the destruction of the Museum an important role was
played in the transmission of Greek literature by the library of the Gymnasium
Ptolemaeum in Athens. This collection was presumably incorporated in the
library of Hadrian, which was built in Athens in 131-132.
But there was no replacing what had been lost for all time. With the decline
of Hellenistic scholarship went a wider decline of interest in books and texts,
and from the first century of our era onwards we find ever-increasing losses in
the literature transmitted. Two other factors soon came to be important -
Atticism with its love of revived classical forms, and the ‘Second Sophistic’,
reaching its height under the Antonines, which also kindled new interest in the
great authors of the past. Largely, however, intellectual life had withdrawn into
the schools, and in consequence excerpts, abstracts and anthologies were the
order of the day. In this period the selection was made that determined which
works of the Attic tragedians were to come down to us.
Another cause of heavy losses was the change in the physical form of the
book, which began in the late first century A.D. and was completed by the end
of the fourth. The roll was ousted by the codex, the form of book to which we
are now accustomed, made up of many pages stitched into gatherings or
fascicules. Naturally in this shape a book was easier to read and refer to: it was
the difficulty of finding one’s place in a roll that made the ancients quote mostly

1 C, WENDEL, ‘Geschichte der Bibliotheken im griech.-rém. Altertum’. Handb. d. Biblio-

thekswiss. 3, 1940, 1 (in the same volume K. Christ on medieval libraries). Id. in Reallex.f.
Ant. u. Christentum, s.v. ‘Bibliothek’. 8. A. PARSONS, The Alexandrian Library, Amsterd.
19§2. C. A. VAN ROOY, ‘Die probleem van die oorsprong van die groot Alexandrynse
biblioteek’. Roman life and letters. Studies presented to T. J. Haarhoff. Pretoria 1959, 147.
3
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

from memory. C. H. Roberts! has recently given some striking figures which
illustrate the gradual changeover from roll to codex, with its numerous deter-
mining factors. In pagan literature the codex accounts in the first century for
2°31 per cent, in the second 16°8 per cent, and only in the third for 73°95 per cent
of texts found in Egypt; but biblical fragments are almost exclusively in codex-
form from the beginning. The explanation that Roberts offers is surprising: he
suggests that St Mark, when he was writing his gospel in Rome in the first
century, became familiar with the parchment notebook among Christians of the
lower orders and adopted it as a convenient form. At all events it was the law
and the church which caused the codex form to become dominant in the fourth
century. The material itself also underwent a change. Papyrus stayed in use a
long time for books in codex form, but more and more it came to be replaced
by parchment, which suited the new make-up better. Pergamene had long been
known as a writing-material: its etymological connection with Pergamon only
arose from its manufacture there at a time when the Egyptians were jealously
restricting the export of papyrus (Plin. Nat. Hist. 13, 70).
Once the new!form of book had replaced the old, any text not rewritten in
codex form was lost. The late fourth and early fifth centuries brought a certain
revival of scholarly tastes, which soon faded, however, as a watered-down
encyclopaedism became the general ideal of culture. The nadir in the copying
of texts was reached in the “dark centuries’, the seventh and eighth. The stage
was set for the total disappearance of classical literature, had it not been for the
movement led by the patriarch Photius in the ninth century — a movement
which is often spoken of as a minor Renaissance, and which the Byzantines
themselves called the Sedrepos éAAnvicuds. This learned friend and protector of
ancient literature was recently brought closer to us by a happy manuscript
discovery. In the autumn of 1959 Zinos Politis discovered in the monastery of
Osios Nikanor in Zanorda (southern Kozani in Macedonia) a paper manuscript
of the thirteenth century which contained inter alia the complete text of Photius’
Lexicon. The text is to be published by the scholars of the university of Thessa-
lonica.? The significance of this revival was enhanced by its coinciding with a
radical change in handwriting. The uncial hand, with its large separately written
letters, gave place to the cursive minuscule, which could be written much faster.
The ‘Uspensky Gospels’ (Petropolitanus 219), written in 835, are the earliest
dated example of the new hand, which rapidly replaced the old. Those ancient
authors and works which were thought worthy of preservation were written
out anew: among them were some which were saved from the very verge of
oblivion. An example is offered by a distinguished pupil of Photius, archbishop
Arethas of Caesarea, who has recorded how, some time shortly after 900, he
had the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius transcribed from a manuscript that even
then was old and damaged. From that transcript come all our extant manu-

1 “The Codex’. Proc. Brit. Acad. 40, 1954 (Oxf. 1955), 169 (figures p. 184).
* The ‘Bibliotheca’ of the patriarch Photius, a monument of indefatigable excerpting, is
currently available in the edition (with tr.) of René Henry in the Coll. Byz. 1: ‘Codices’ 1-84.
Paris 1959. 2: ‘Codices’ 84-185. Paris 1960.
4
 THE TRANSMISSION OF GREEK LITERATURE

scripts. The making of such a copy involved separating the words and adding
accents and breathings — a task demanding both knowledge and patience — and
would normally be done only once for any given text. Dain has conjectured
with great plausibility that a transcript of this sort would then be kept in a large
library as a reference copy, like the corrected texts of the Museum, and that it
would serve as a master for other copies. This theory would explain why our
textual tradition so often goes back to a single archetype. Where variants exist
in quantity, they may arise from the incorporation in the master copy of some
of the results of ancient textual research, and Byzantine manuscripts show a text
constantly in a state of flux through comparison with other manuscripts, altera-
tions and additions made from time to time. The ‘metacharacterismus’ was of
course attended with further losses, and the process went on in the succeeding
centuries. The sack of Constantinople by the crusaders in 1204 was particularly
destructive. This period saw the loss of many authors who had been extant in
Photius’ day, such as Hipponax, much of Callimachus, Gorgias and Hyperides,
together with many historians.
While the capital was occupied, scholarly work was to some degree carried
on in Thessalonica and other cities, and from 1280 Constantinople also saw
renewed activity. The movement was led by men like Maximus Planudes and
Manuel Moschopulus, while from Thessalonica came Thomas Magister, whose
pupil Demetrius Triclinius made metre his main interest.
As early as the thirteenth century cultural connections became closer between
Byzantium and Italy: Palermo, Messina and Naples were the chief points of
contact. Scholars like Manuel Chrysoloras brought Greek manuscripts to the
west, and by the mid-fifteenth century the Vatican library already possessed
350. Thus a movement began which acquired vital cultural importance from the
fall of Constantinople in 1453. The west now became for all time the repository
of the Greek tradition. Between 1450 and 1600 in every city boasting an intel-
lectual life Greek manuscripts were busily copied; they multiplied in the great
libraries ! — the Vatican, the Laurentian in Florence, the Ambrosian in Milan -
and soon printing came to take the ancient texts under its wing. In the late
fifteenth century Aldus in Venice and Froben in Basle introduced a printing
technique which at first simply imitated manuscript by means of print.
There is no need here to speak of the great achievements of modern editing
which have come since that time; but a word may be spared for the way in
which papyrus discoveries have enlarged our view of Greek literature.? Apart
' W. WEINBERGER, Wegweiser durch die Sammlungen altphilologischer Handschriften. Akad.
Wien 1930. E. C. RICHARDSON, A Union World Catalogue of Manuscript Books. Preliminary
Studies in Method. New York 1933-37 (Il: A List of Printed Catalogues ofManuscript Books).
M. RICHARD, Répertoire des Bibliothéques et de Catalogues de Manuscrits Grecs. Paris 1948.
L. Bieler, ‘Les Catalogues de Manuscrits, premier supplément aux listes de Weinberger et de
Richardson’. Scriptorium 3, 1948, 303.
2 K, PREISENDANZ, ‘Papyruskunde’. Handb. d. Bibliothekswiss. 2nd ed., 1/3, Stuttg. 1950.
R. A. PACK, The Greek and Latin Literary Texts from Greco-Roman Egypt. Univ. of Michigan
Press 1952, with full bibliographies on the individual pieces. R. stark, ‘Textgeschichtliche
und literarkritische Folgerungen aus neueren Papyri’. Annales Univ. Saraviensis. Philos.-
Lettres 8, 1/2, 1959, 31. On palaeographical aspects: C. H. ROBERTS, Greek Literary Hands 350
5
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

from the charred remains of a library in Herculaneum, it is the dry sands of

Egypt covering classical sites which have furnished such material. After several
chance discoveries in the latter half of the nineteenth century, the nineties
witnessed systematic excavations which greatly advanced classical learning in all
fields. The particular richness of Oxyrhynchus in literary texts has received an
illuminating explanation from Turner.' It was a town favoured by writers and
scholars from the Alexandrian circle such as Satyrus and Theon, and we may
suppose that they were in regular touch with the libraries of the capital. The
interest taken by the writer of Pap. Ox. 2792 in the handling oflearned books is
very instructive in this connection. Many of the papyri that have been found
seem to have been personal copies from the working libraries of such men,
We shall find some authors of whom we had no knowledge before these dis-
coveries, while significant additions have been made to the works of those
already known. A particular interest attaches to those papyri which allow a
comparison with the current manuscript tradition: the text of Homer will have
to be discussed in this connection. In general the papyri have shown the relative
fidelity of medieval copies. An extreme case, but an impressive one, is a third-
century papyrus (no. 1083 P.) of Plato’s Phaedo: a comparison shows a consider-
able balance of better readings in the medieval tradition.
B.C.-A.D. 400, Oxf. 1955. The Byzantine Commission of the Austrian Academy of Sciences,
under H. Gerstinger and H. Hunger, is working on a collection of firmly dated papyri
and manuscripts.
© Journ. Eg. Arch. 38, 1952, 78 and Mitt. aus d. Papyrussamml. d. Ost. Nat. Bibl. N.S. 5
Folge. Vienna, 1946, 141.
 CHAPTER II

The Beginnings

Greek literature for us begins with two works of mature achievement, the Iliad
and Odyssey. Fifty years of research, begun by the pioneering work of Schlie-
mann, has revealed the dim outline of a thousand years of Greek history behind
the brilliant light of this first poetry.
We cannot say with certainty when the first waves of Greek-speaking stock
began to push in from the north towards the southern Balkans; but we can be
fairly sure that the movement was under way by the beginning of the second
millennium B.c.2 Those immigrants who drove to the south found themselves
in a country which had been strongly articulated by recent geological events.3
Heavy folding and faulting had given rise to a landscape of isolated and self-
contained units, favourable to the development of highly individual cultures,
usually dominated by one large settlement.* Arms of the sea penetrate deeply
into the land, while the interior is a mass of mountain ranges. This kind of
articulation reaches a maximum on the east coast, which is connected by a chain
of islands to the no less indented west coast of Asia Minor. Here were obvious
routes mapped out for trade and intercourse which were to have the pro-
foundest influence on the development of Hellenic culture.
The Greeks were not the first to inhabit this land. The results of excavations
have shown that the immigrants found an old civilization which had attained
a very considerable height. A great deal of work has been done to separate out
the various cultural levels and to trace influences from different quarters: for
our purpose the important fact is that the original inhabitants were peoples of
quite different ethnic origins. The Greeks themselves preserved traditions of
people whom they called Pelasgi, Cares and Leleges: modern scholars have

« A copious bibliography is given in H. BENGTSON’S very sober account, Griechische Ge-

schichte, 2nd ed. Munich 1960. See also the reports on recent work compiled by F. SCHACHER-
MEYR, AfdA 6, 1953, 193; 7, 1954, ISI; 10, 1957, 65; II, 1962; id. ‘Prahistorische Kul-
turen Griechenlands’. RE 22, 1954, 1350; Die dltesten Kulturen Griechenlands. Stuttg. 1955;
Griechische Geschichte. Stuttg. 1960.
2 An attempt to date the decisive folk-movements several centuries later was made by
F. HAMPL, ‘Die Chronologie der Einwanderung der griech. Stamme und das Problem der
Trager der mykenischen Kultur’. Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 57.
3 A. PHILIPPSON, Beitrdge zur Morphologie Griechenlands. Stuttg. 1930; Die griechische Land-
schaften. Bd. I Der Nordosten der griech. Halbinsel. Teil 1-3. Frankf.a.M. 1950-52. Bd. II
Der Nordwesten der griech. Halbinsel. Teil 1 and 2, 1956/58. Bd. IIf Der Peloponnes. Teil
1 & 2. 1959. Bd. IV Das Agiische Meer und seine Inseln. 1959.
+ The connection between soil fertility and settlements is well brought out by A. R. BURN,
The Lyric Age of Greece. London 1960, 15.
7
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

spoken of an ‘Aegean’ stratum of population.! This fusion of Indo-European

immigrants with the existing inhabitants was vital in the development of the
Greek people. Modern assessments have sought to lay the major stress on one
racial element or the other; but it would be more reasonable to consider the
confronting and interpenetration of the two stocks as the decisive event which
was to set the stage for the rise of European civilization. From this point of view
we can understand the antinomies and inner tensions with which Greek cultural
life was full. The long period of juxtaposition must have passed through many
phases, peaceful and warlike, just as the migrations themselves were spread over
a very long time.
It is only recently that scholarship has thrown light upon a civilization which
first emerges about the sixteenth century B.c., and which has been given the
name ‘Mycenaean’. Its great centres are the strong fortress-cities of the Argolid,
the western Peloponnese and the Boeotian basin. The archaeological material
shows that this early Greek civilization was very strongly influenced by the rich
and alien culture of Crete, whose naval power in the second millennium B.c.
had carried her influence far and wide. The Cretan empire was overthrown
about 1400: in all probability there were Greeks strongly established on the
island much earlier. Two hundred years later the hour struck for Mycenae also.
For a long time the Dorians were held mainly responsible for the catastrophe.
Even now the great folk-migration in which they came southward is often
called the Dorian invasion. But more and more scholars now think that the
Dorians came to their later habitations following in the train of the barbarian
tribes who about 1200 B.c. burst in from the north into the Mediterranean area,
spreading terror and destruction to the borders of Mesopotamia and Egypt.
Their ethnic affinities cannot easily be determined:? Illyrian and Phrygian
elements may have played an important part. These ‘northern peoples’ or “sea-
peoples’ who destroyed the Hittite empire in the east, probably extinguished
also the centres of Greek life in the late second millennium. The overthrow of
the Mycenaean world was complete, and it was followed by several centuries
that are more dark to us than any others in Greek history. But at the same time
this violent immigration was the starting-point of the powerful new movement
which led in the eighth century to the perfection of the geometric style and to
the full bloom of epic poetry.
Greek literature is divided very much on dialectal or ethnic lines, which
makes it necessary to consider briefly the way in which the Greek nation was
split into groups. We shall have to set aside the numerous local subdivisions
and deal in broad outlines only. In the historical period we find a broad band of
Tonian settlements stretching from Euboea over the Cyclades to the central and
southern west coast of Asia Minor. Attica, with all its individuality and its
' For a short account of the remains of pre-Greek language see F. SCHACHERMEYR, RE
22, 1954, 1494.
* A vigorous offensive on this front was launched by P. KRETSCHMER, ‘Die phrygische
Episode in der Geschichte von Hellas’. Miscellanea Acad. Berolinensia 1950, 173; now cf. F.
SCHACHERMEYR, Griech. Gesch. (see p. 17, n. 1) 69. On the questions involved see also p.
GRAY, in J. L. MYRES, Homer and his Critics. Lond. 1958, 278.
8
 THE BEGINNINGS
destined central position in Greek cultural life, was simply one of these settle-
ments. To the north of this broad belt was an area settled mainly by Acolic
tribes, comprising essentially Boeotia and Thessaly, Lesbos and the northern
part of the west coast of Asia Minor. About 1200, in the train of the great folk-
migrations, Dorian and Northwest Greek stocks broke into new areas of settle-
ment, the Dorians taking firm possession of the south and east Peloponnese,
together with the islands, particularly Crete and Rhodes, and the southwest
coast of Asia Minor. The location of the Northwest Greeks is obvious from the
name: they also mingled with and influenced the Thessalian and Boeotian
population to a great extent. In the north and west of the Peloponnese they took
possession of the districts of Achaea and Elis. Thus the Arcadians, cut off from
the sea by Dorians and Northwest Greeks, were left as an island of pre-Dorian
population: their archaic dialect, known to us from limited and sometimes
problematical remains, shows a kinship with that of Cyprus and with that of
Pamphylia in the south of Asia Minor.
In the historical period there is no difficulty in distinguishing the dialects, and
they can be readily shown on a map (cf. Schwyzer’s Grammatik, I 83). We can
also easily see from the later distribution how dialectal areas were overlaid or
isolated in the “Dorian’ invasions. But the earlier history of the Greek dialects
poses a series of problems which have recently once again been earnestly
debated.! The basic questions are: after what date can we think in terms of
clearly distinguished tribes and dialects in the later sense? What is the relation
of the Mycenaean Greek in the Linear B tablets to the known dialects? How are
we to interpret the relation of Arcado-Cyprian to these latter? To Mycenaean
Greek we shall have shortly to return.
Most scholars take it as proven that there were two great invasions of migrant
peoples in the latter half of the second millennium, in the course of which
various different stocks came into the south of the Balkans. But how far are we
justified in this connection in speaking, as Paul Kretschmer first did, of an
earlier Ionic and a later Aeolic invasion??
We must first make it clear that the long-popular theory which viewed
languages as spreading out like branches on a tree is now out of favour. One
cannot trace the individual languages in a straight line back to a primitive
' F, ADRADOS, ‘La dialectologia griega como fuente para el estudio de las migraciones
indoeuropeas en Grecia’. Acta Salmanticensia V/3, Salamanca 1952. M. S. RUIPEREZ, ‘Sobre
la prehistoria de los dialectos griegos’. Emérita 21, 1953 (1954), 253. W. PORZIG, ‘Sprachgeo-
graphische Untersuchungen zu den altgriechischen Dialekten’. Indog. Forschungen 61, 1954,
147. E. RISCH, ‘Die Gliederung der griech. Dialekte in neuer Sicht’. Mus. Helv. 12, 1955,
61.J.CHADWICK, “The Greek Dialects and Greek Prehistory’. Greece and Rome 3, 1956, 38.
Vy. PISANI, Storia della lingua greca in Encicl. Class. 2/5/1. Turin 1960, 3. VL. GEORGIEV, ‘Das
Problem der homerischen Sprache im Lichte der kretisch-mykenischen Texte’. Minoica und
Homer. Berl. 1961, 10.
2 Apart from Georgiev op. cit. this view of KRETSCHMER’S (cf. e.g. GERCKE-NORDEN,
Einleitung in die Altertumswissenschaft, section ‘Sprache’. 3rd ed., Leipzig 1927, 75), has been
recently supported by A. TOVAR in Mrjyns xdpw. Gedenkschrift P. Kretschmer Il. Vienna 1957,
188. KRETSCHMER spoke not of an Aeolic, but of an Achaean invasion, but we shall see
that this is virtually a distinction without a difference.
9
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Indo-European unity: no more can one trace the Greek dialects in this way back
toa unitary Old Greek. The postulate of original unity has been replaced by that
of a multiplicity of isoglosses, with remarkable variation in their geographic
distribution. The truth of this view as regards Greek emerges most strikingly
from the work of Ernst Risch, who has shown that characteristic features often
cross the boundaries of dialects.! In the beginning was not unity, but a richly
varied multiplicity. Pursuing this approach, Risch detects relatively late lin-
guistic forms in two important dialects: Ionic and Doric, he thinks, developed
their distinctive features in the migrations and the dialectal stratification which
cameafter the Mycenaean period. We must of course remember that Kretschmer,
when he reckoned the Ionians as the oldest stratum, was thinking not of the
Ionians of Asia Minor, but of their remote antecedents. It was he, after all, who
taught us to regard the tendencies towards unity and towards diversity as forces
whose constant interplay is the perpetual cause of change. Risch further postu-
lates in the second millennium an old Southern Greek dialect group of which
the purest representative is Arcado-Cyprian, and distinguishes this from another
group best attested in East Thessalian. Here again we find the two early invasions,
and we find it possible to reconcile the new results with the picture drawn by
Kretschmer. We must, of course, never overlook the influence of neighbouring
groups and linguistic substrata in the development of dialects.
It has proved difficult to classify the type of Greek that we have found in the
Linear B tablets. Partly this is due to the nature of the tablets and their writing
(this again must be discussed later), partly the trouble is that besides obvious
similarities to Arcado-Cyprian there are connections with other dialects also.
There are two rival theories. Risch,? in accordance with his views on the genesis
of the dialects, sees in Mycenaean Greek a little of the early history of the Greek
language: here it has not yet developed its characteristic features, especially in
phonology and the declensional system. Georgiev, on the other hand, reckons
the language to be the result of an overlaying of Ionian by later Aeolic elements,
thus giving rise to a mixed dialect (‘Achaean’), which is the basis of the Cretan-
Mycenaean koine of the tablets. Georgiev’s theory is brought a little closer to the
other by the fact that he means always proto-Ionic and proto-Aeolic. The
question is still under discussion, but the approach used by Risch seems to hold
out the possibility ofa solution.
As for Arcado-Cyprian, that has virtually lost the unique and peculiar
position among the dialects that could stil] be claimed for it by Eduard Schwyzer
(Grammatik, p. 88); but it has maintained a place of its own in view of the
valuable relics of early Greek that are found in it.3
" For an impressive table see op. cit. 75.
2 “Priihgeschichte der griech. Sprache.’ Mus. Helv. 16, 1959, 215; Georgiev loc. cit.; cf.
also E, VILBORG, A Tentative Grammar of Mycenean Greek. Stud. Gr. et Lat. 9, 1960. A special
place for Mycenaean is claimed by A. HEUBECK, ‘Zur dialektologischen Einordnung des
Mykenischen’. Glotta 39, 1960/61, 159.
3 A threefold division of the pre-Dorian dialect is still maintained by c. J. RuIJGH, ‘Le
Traitement des sonants voyelles dans les dialectes grecs et la position du mycénien’. Mnem.
Sa Ay DA LOO Os.

IO
 THE BEGINNINGS

We must spare a word now for the settlement of the west coast of Asia
Minor, which played such an important part in the cultural life and in the
literature of Greece. A radical attempt to date it as late as the eighth century!
has evoked a reaction which tries to put the effective settlement of the area back
into the Mycenaean period.* Early Greek remains have now come to light on the
west coast of Asia Minor, particularly in Miletus and Rhodes which prove
Greek occupation in the Mycenean age; but on the other hand the main stream
of Ionic and Aeolic settlers must be considered as a consequence of the ‘Dorian’
invasion and dated accordingly.3 Roland Hampet* has tried to maintain that
Attica was a point of assembly and departure for the colonists coming from the
Pylos area: although his arguments from mythology are not wholly convincing,
it remains perfectly possible that Attica played an important role in that way.
The pre-Homeric period saw two developments which were of supreme
importance for Greek literature — the first appearance of Greek writing’ and
the origin of Greek mythology.®
It is not long since our ideas about writing in the second millennium B.c. were
rudelyshaken. In Cnossus and in the mainland fortress cities of Pylos and Mycenae
many hundreds of clay tablets have been discovered, written in a uniform script
commonly known as Linear B, and dating partly from around 1400, partly
from around 1200.7 Thanks to the genius of Michael Ventris, we now know that

' G.M. A. HANFMANN, ‘Archaeology in Homeric Asia Minor’. Am. Journ. Arch. 52, 1948,
135. id., “Ionia, leader or follower?’ Harv. Stud. in Class. Phil. 61, 1953, 1.
2 F. CASSOLA, LaJonia nel mondo miceneo. Naples 1957.
3 F. SCHACHERMEYR, Griechische Geschichte. Stuttg. 1960, 78 and Gnom. 32, 1960, 207.
+ ‘Die hom. Welt im Lichte der neuen Ausgrabungen: Nestor’. In: Vermdchtnis der antiken
Kunst. Heidelb. 1950, 11. Apart from cAssoOLa loc. cit. the thesis is opposed by M. B. SAKEL-
LARIOU, La Migration grecque en Ionie. Athens 1958. But see T. B. L. WEBSTER, Die Nach-
fahren Nestors. Mykene und die Anfange der griech. Kultur. Janus-Biicher 19. Munich 1961, 32.
S A. REHM, Handb. d. Archdologie 1, 1939, 182. R. HARDER, ‘Die Meisterung der Schrift
durch die Griechen’. Das neue Bild der Antike. Leipz. 1942, 91. The literature on Linear B
is already immense. The greatest milestone is still the first complete publication by M.
VENTRIS and J. CHADWICK, ‘ Evidence for Greek Dialect in the Mycenaean Archives’. Journ.
Hell. Stud. 73, 1953, 84. A comprehensive presentation is given by the two authors in
Documents in Mycenaean Greek. Cambr. 1956. For the history of the decipherment: J. CHAD-
wick, The Decipherment of Linear B. Cambr. 1958. For a convenient collection of the pub-
lished material from the different sites: B. RISCH, Mus. Helv. 16, 1959, 216, 3. We should
mention the detailed account of work from 1952 to 1958 given by F. SCHACHERMEYR in
AfdA 11, 1958, 193. References to current literature in the periodical Minos. Revista de filo-
logia egea. Salamanca 1951 ff. and the Studies in Mycenaean Inscriptions and Dialect published
by the Institute of Classical Studies of the University of London. Prompt and detailed re-
ports of new discoveries and new literature in Nestor (distributed by Bennett in the form of
single sheets). For an able summary with abundant references see now J. A. DAVISON, ‘The
Decipherment of Linear B: The Present Position’. Phoenix 14, 1960, 14. The most recent
comprehensive treatment is by L. R. PALMER, Mycenaeans and Minoans. Aegean Prehistory in
the Light of the Linear B Tablets. Lond. 1961.
6 M. P. NILSSON, The Mycenaean Origin of Greek Mythology. Berkeley 1932. L. RADER-
MACHER, Mythos und Sage bei den Griechen. 2nd ed., Vienna 1943. H. J. ROSE, Griech. Mytho-
logie. Munich 1955.
7 The dating of the Cnossus tablets around 1400 hinges on the correct dating of excavated
material: recently it has been challenged by L. R. PALMER as being too early, and the question
Il
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

this writing is a development of the earlier Cretan Linear A, rudely adapted to

the writing of Greek. The value of this discovery for our knowledge of the
political and economic condition of the Mycenaean world can scarcely be over-
rated, but the light it casts on Greek literature is disappointingly small. The mass
of inventories, accounts and receipts shows the existence of a class of scribes in
the service of the administration: we should be less ready to assume the literacy
of the rulers themselves. If we adopt the view that these scribes were probably
unfree and came from different parts of the Mycenaean world or its environs,
and if we also bear in mind the purely utilitarian character of these documents,
we are brought face to face with a distressing paradox. These tablets in Greek
of the second millennium are of inestimable value for the history of the language,
but the circumstances mentioned make their evaluation difficult and often
uncertain. The knowledge of this script, unsatisfactory as it is when applied to
Greek, perished with the catastrophe of the ‘Dorian’ invasions! and Greek
writing had to start all over again. Some unknown had the inspiration to modify
the north Semitic consonantal script so as to permit the indication of vowels.
This was the genesis of the Greek alphabet: its oldest monument is an Attic jug
from the first half of the eighth century, to which we may now add a drinking-
vessel from Ischia (Acc. Lincei 1955) — both inscriptions are metrical. The
writing on the Dipylon jug is already fluent and stylized, so that the develop-
ment of the alphabetic script needs to be put at least 100 years earlier.”
It was Nilsson who first suggested that the main lines of Greek mythology
were laid down in the Mycenaean age. We can hardly imagine that the aristo-
cratic society of Mycenae had no songs and sagas of ancient derring-do, but it
remains very questionable whether much of the known mythology originated
in that period. It is far more likely that Greek heroic legend attained its known
form in the ‘dark centuries’, between the twelfth and the eighth. It became
connected, of course — here Nilsson is unquestionably right — in a special way
with the great centres of Mycenaean civilization. They spoke to posterity in a
hundred voices of tradition, and their great ruins impressed the ages which
followed their overthrow. With a certain over-simplification one might say
that saga postulates ruins. The nature of the problem is well illustrated in this
fact: when in the Mycenaean tablets such well-known names in mythology as
Ajax, Achilles, Hector and Theseus repeatedly came to light, this was at first

is under discussion. A quick outline of the essentials is found in F. sCHACHERMEYR,

‘Aufregung um Arthur Evans’. Wiener human. Blatter 4, 1961, 27.
‘ A. J. B. WACE suggests that it survived: cf. the introduction to Ventris-Chadwick,
Documents (v. sip.). A different view in STERLING DOW, ‘Minoan Writing’. Am. Journ.
Arch. 58, 1958, 77.
* ‘There can be few supporters of the late date advocated by RHYS CARPENTER, Am.
Journ. Arch. 37, 1933, 8. G. KLAFFENBACH, ‘Schriftprobleme der Agiais’. Forsch. u. Fortschr.
1948, 195, suggests that the Semitic characters were taken over about the tenth century.
See also the works cited in p. 11, n. 5. For the oldest inscriptions: T. B. L. WEBSTER, ‘Notes
on the writing of early Greek poetry’. Glotta 38, 1960, 253, I, where the reading of the
beaker from Ischia is discussed. On this see also w. SCHADEWALDT, Von Homers Welt und
Werk. 3rd ed. Stuttg. 1959, 413.
I2
 THE BEGINNINGS

taken as a confirmation of Nilsson’s theory; only later was it realized that these
were everyday names,' and that only a later age, when they were no longer in
common use, could appropriate them for the great heroes of the past. Greek
mythology focuses the rays of that dazzlingly brilliant light with which the
world is mirrored in Greek literature, both in its content and in its form.
Attempts to derive all Greek mythology from one basic source are doomed to
failure: we have learned now to distinguish the strands of the fabric one from
another, and we can see that Greek mythology brings the most heterogeneous
materials together into an enduring form. Memories of historical events, often
wildly distorted, rub shoulders with primitive myths of the gods; aetiological
myths stand cheek by jowl with ancient fairy-tale elements, or with stories
seemingly invented for the sheer love of a good tale. Nature-symbolism in
Greek myth is the exception.
Greek mythology, like the Greek people, comes from a fusion of Indo-
European and Mediterranean elements. The fact that a large number of gods
and heroes have non-Greek names indicates in itself the size and difficulty of the
problems involved — problems further complicated by the addition of a third
element in the influence of oriental culture and cults. This influence must have
been particularly important in the period following the successive overthrow of
Cretan and of Mycenean power, when the Phoenicians, dominant in commerce,
were the obvious intermediaries.?
To say that literature, as something written down, is not found before Homer
is not to say that there was no poetry before that time. Myths may certainly
have been circulated in bald prose; but it is reasonable to suppose that their true
medium was epic poetry. Presumably epic poetry goes back to Mycenaean
times: the Homeric evidence points that way,} since we learn that marriage and
funerals, dances and celebrations of victory, the worship of the gods and indeed
everyday work were all accompanied by songs, of types with which we are
familiar from a later age. All this is lost. Certain sects in Greece did indeed try
to glorify their supposed founder - an Orpheus or a Musaeus - by giving them
an antiquity more remote than Homer’s; but we can detect the motive and
reject the invention.
' Cf.A.HEUBECK, Gnom. 29, 1957, 43; 33, 1961, 118.
2 A. SEVERYNS, Gréce et Proche-Orient avant Homere. Brussels 1960. For the eighth and
seventh centuries: T. J. DUNBABIN, ‘The Greeks and their eastern neighbours’. Society for the
Promotion of Hellenic Studies. Suppl. Pap. 8, 1957.
3 Ww. SCHADEWALDT, Von Homers Welt und Werk, 3rd ed. Stuttg. 1957, 62.
 CHAP LER SEU

The Homeric Epic

A The Iliad and Odyssey

I EPIC POETRY BEFORE HOMER

The progress of scholarship ! has made it impossible nowadays to speak of Homer

without implying the ‘Homeric question’. For discussing the latter there are
two possible starting points only — a consideration of pre-Homeric epic as far
as we can know it, and the study of the Iliad as we now possess it. The basic
problems have raised their heads mainly in connection with the older epic, and
we shall discuss them after giving some account of the Iliad. Most of the results
are applicable to the Odyssey, although it has also many problems of its own.
When Homer was rediscovered in the eighteenth century in England, he was
regarded as a child of nature, naive and unreflecting. Robert Wood’s view of
him (An Essay on the Original Genius of Homer, 1769) as a poet who was a law
to himself was accepted by the classical German writers also. Nowadays we
hold different views: we see the form and manner of the poems in a context.
Homer is a beginning — and not merely from our viewpoint. We may with
fair confidence place him in the eighth century — the century which released
the pent-up forces of the dark age to develop freely and to breathe life every-
where. The archaic period already witnessed a development away from the
spiritual world of epic poetry, but nevertheless Homer was in truth, as the
Greeks always considered him, the fountainhead of many of the most important
streams of intellectual life. Yet if we change our viewpoint, we see these poems,
with all their later influence, not as a beginning, but as the culmination of a
long development. The absence of any surviving pre-Homeric poetry is readily
understood once we realize its nature; and in this enquiry the Homeric poems
themselves provide the starting point.
In both the epics we find mention of songs celebrating the deeds of heroes,
but under very different circumstances. The embassy to Achilles finds him
singing of ‘the deeds of men’ and accompanying himself on the lyre (9. 186).
Patroclus sits beside him, ready to take up the song if Achilles leaves off. In the
Odyssey, however, the singers are professionals - Demodocus at the Phaeacian
court, Phemius entertaining the suitors at their banquets. The conclusion has
of course been drawn that the Iliad reflects an earlier stage, when the heroes
' The modern literature on individual aspects of the Homeric problem is immense: I
refer the reader to my summaries in AfdA. Three of these from vol. 4, 1951 and $, 1952
are printed together in Die Homerforschung in der Gegenwart, Vienna 1952. Continuation in
AfdA 6, 1953, 129; 8, 1955, 129}; 12, 1959, 129; 13, 1960, I. H. J. METTE, ‘Homer 1930-
1956’. Lustrum 1956/1, Gottingen 1957; addenda in Lustrum 1959/4, Gott. 1960. A.
HEUBECK, ‘Fachbericht zur neueren Homerforschung’. Gymm. 66, 1959, 380.
14
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

sang for themselves; but one might more plausibly explain the difference by
the different milieux in which the poems are set. The professional bard is quite
in place at home in peacetime, but would hardly accompany an army on active
service. At all events the power of poetry to move the hearts of men, and hence
the probability of a class of singers to wield this power is attested even in the
Iliad, where Helen laments to Hector that she and Paris will be sung of among
later generations (6. 357). In this connection we should also notice I/. 20. 204:
Aeneas says to Achilles that they know each other’s pedigree by report — by
mpoxAvuta évea. Heroic poetry, dealing as it did with noble deeds, by its very
nature gave scope for a good deal of genealogy: the Iliad is full of it.
The Odyssey tells us a good deal about the bard’s status and the nature of his
performance.! Eumaeus (17. 381) defends himself against the charge of having
brought a useless beggar into the house. “No, of course one does not invite
people of that kidney: one invites into the house a man with a trade (Sypsoepyds)
—a physician, a seer, an architect or a singer who brings joy by his divine gift.’
Here we see singers as an organized guild. Mostly the singer would wander
from place to place, as we find Homer himself doing in later legend; but he
might attach himself to the court of a prince and gain there a respected position.
When Agamemnon sailed for Troy, he left his wife in the care of a singer
(3. 267) — Aegisthus made him rue the honour. Demodocus is summoned to the
Phaeacian court when there is occasion for song to adorn some great festival
(8. 44). A herald is sent to escort the blind singer, whose name implies that he is
“esteemed by the people’. One cannot but recall the ‘blind man of Chios’ in the
hymn to the Delian Apollo, commending himself to the maidens as preservers
of his memory. A blind singer must have been not uncommon in real life:
Homer was so represented, and his name was falsely etymologized as 6 yun) opr,
“he who sees not’.
Demodocus has a place of honour at court: he sits on a seat of wrought silver
near one of the roof-pillars; his lyre hangs by his head; he is brought food and
drink on a handsome tray. When everyone has finished eating, he begins his
song. He sings and plays several times in the Phaeacian scenes (8. 261, 471; 13.
28). There is, however, a striking feature in the first such passage. Demodocus
sings to the lyre the story of the illicit love of Aphrodite and Ares, and of the
trap set for them by Hephaestus. As he sings, youths dance around him. Was
this a representation in mime of the story? We have no way of telling: the only
parallel to this scene is that depicted on the shield of Achilles (I/. 18. 590), where
there is a singer with his lyre and a chorus of youths and maidens.
An important passage for understanding the nature of primitive epic is the
first appearance of Demodocus in the eighth book of the Odyssey (72). He takes
his theme from the great events around Troy, and sings of the quarrel between
Odysseus and Achilles at the feast. In a later passage (487) Odysseus supplies a
theme by asking to hear about the Wooden Horse. There follows the song
which brings tears into his eyes and leads to his recognition.
l W. SCHADEWALDT, ‘Die Gestalt des hom. Singers’ in Von Homers Welt und Werk. 2nd
ed., Stuttg. 1951, 54. R. SEALEY, ‘From Phemios to lone Revs EiaGr, 70, 1057; 312.
LS
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

We should also notice the terms in which Odysseus praises Demodocus. The
Muses or Apollo himself must have taught him: to sing well is impossible
without divine inspiration. And, we may note, Demodocus knows how to
sing ‘according to the rules’ (katé xdopov). This praise implies not only truth
in narrative — always claimed by this kind of heroic lay — but also skill on the
singer’s part in putting the elements together.
What we must decide is whether we think that Demodocus and his like
improvised or sang from a fixed text. This question is more profitably con-
sidered by first going outside the purely Homeric field. Even when the written
book was fully developed, we know that the Homeric poems were current in
oral recitation by rhapsodes at religious festivals.! In Plato’s time rhapsodes were
often self-confident virtuosi: he draws a lively sketch of one in the Jon. They had
long ceased to carry a lyre: a staff in the hand was now the badge of office. They
no longer sang, but recited in a loud speaking voice: they had prodigious
memories and followed a fixed text - a text which perhaps in early times used
to be the prized possession of a particular family or guild. Their strictness in
following the text was probably not absolute, and this kind of transmission was
the main cause of many difficulties in the Homeric text. What is important for
us, however, is that the rhapsodes got by heart a ready-made text.
If we now return to pre-Homeric bards like Demodocus, we find one obvious
difference: singer and lyre take the place of reciter and staff. But whence comes
the material for the singer’s performance? On his first entrance (8. 74) Demo-
docus sings of the quarrel of Achilles and Odysseus, taking it from a ‘song
sequence’ (oi) ‘of which the fame reaches from earth to heaven’. We may
compare this with the passage at the beginning of the Odyssey, where the Muse
is enjoined to begin somewhere in the eventful career of Odysseus — in fact, of
course, the starting-point is selected with great artistry. Demodocus is also able
on request to sing of a favourite incident in the siege of Troy — the Wooden
Horse. This shows clearly enough that there was a detailed corpus of sagas
behind the bards. Now did the bards have the words ready-made as well as the
theme, or did they improvise anew at each performance? Was this the respect
in which they most differed from the later rhapsodes? We could not be sure,
were it not that the comparative study of literature has provided us a reliable
and detailed picture of this kind of oral epic.
The first steps in this direction were taken forty years ago, when the Slavic
scholar Mathias Murko pointed out some features of current South Slavic epic
which have a vital bearing on the understanding of early Greek heroic poetry.
Murko made little impression on a world that was hotly chasing the hare of
Homeric analysis. A better reception was given in the English-speaking world
to the work of Milman Parry and his followers.? Three years of field-work
' The derivation of paywdds from paB8os is untenable. H. PATZER, Herm. 80, 1952, 314,
starts from pdrrew and the notion of tacking together.
* Parry’s researches (with bibliog.): ALBERT B. LORD, ‘Homer, Parry and Huso’. Am. Journ.
Arch. 52, 1948, 34. ‘Composition by Theme in Homer and Southslavic Epos’. Trans. a.
Proc. Am. Phil. Ass. 82, 1951, 71. The Singer of Tales. Harvard Stud. in Comp. Lit. 24. Harv.
Univ. Press., Cambr. Mass. 1960. JAMES A. NOTOPULOS, ‘The Generic and Oral Composi-
16
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

(1933-35) in the Serbo-Croat area yielded about 12,500 texts, some recorded
with modern equipment, others taken down by dictation. These now repose
in the Harvard University Library under the title ‘Milman Parry Collection of
Southslavic Texts’. The collection includes a great many epic lays as well as
popular lyrics: the examination and assessment of these is still going on. Parry
himself died young, but his work was carried on by his companion and assistant,
Albert B. Lord, who travelled in Yugoslavia in 1937, 1950 and 1951, making
new recordings and checking the material gathered earlier. His book The
Singer of Tales gives a detailed picture of the various forms of popular oral epic
in the southern Slav area, and tries to use the knowledge thus gained towards
the better understanding of Homeric poetry. The scope of such research has
been considerably widened as a result of Bowra’s Heroic Poetry (1952), which
examines epic poetry from all parts of the world as a basis on which to establish
the essential characteristics of oral epic.
Poetry of this sort is found among most of the peoples of the world — in some
parts down to the present day. Naturally the differences between Russian
bylin, Norse saga and Sumatran song are very great in detail; but in the mass
they present striking similarities. The central feature of such poems is the hero,
distinguished above all men by courage and bodily strength: his conduct knows
no restraint but that of honour —a notion which in primitive times offered few
difficulties. The ties of friendship may also be very strong in his mind. The origin
and continuance of this kind of poetry comes from the existence of a knightly
upper class delighting in warfare, hunting and the pleasures of the table (the
latter including the performance of the singer himself). The songs originally
sung in this aristocratic milieu would later become common property. The
background of the hero’s activities is usually a heroic age — a past which is
larger and brighter than the present. There is a naive delight in the physical
world, expressed in elaborate descriptions of chariots, ships, arms and clothing:
the element of magic is largely wanting. It is possible to posit a development
from a magical or shamanistic level of thought and narrative to a heroic level:
or we may prefer to think that the two elements exist together and touch or
overlap at various points.! Heroic poetry of this type always claims to be telling
tion’. Ibid. 81, 1950, 28; ‘Continuity and Interconnexion in Homeric Oral Composition’.
Ibid. 82, 1951, 81; ‘Homer and Cretan Heroic Poetry’. Am. Journ. Phil. 73, 1952, 225, with
interesting details of the composing and writing down of a poem on the Cretan revolt of
1770; Modern Greek Heroic Oral Poetry. New York 1959. ‘Homer, Hesiod and the Achaean
Heritage of Oral Poetry’. Hesperia 29, 1960, 177. C. M. BOWRA, Heroic Poetry. London 1952.
Id., Homer and his Forerunners. Edinburgh 1955. $s. J. SUYS-REITSMA, Het Homerisch epos als
orale schepping van een dichterhetairie. Amsterd. 1955. G. S. KIRK, ‘Homer and Modern Oral
Poetry: Some Confusions’. Class. Quart. 54, 1960, 271; ‘Dark Age and Oral Poet’. Proc. of
the Cambr. Phil. Soc. no. 187, 1961, 34. MILMAN PARRY and ALBERT LORD, Serbocroatian
Heroic Songs. Novi Pazar. 2 vols., Cambridge (Mass.) and Belgrade 1954. These two volumes
are the first of a series which is to publish the material collected by PARRY and LORD in
more than 20 volumes. The next volume is to contain the 12,000 or so verses of the poem
of Avdo Mededovié on the wedding of Smailagi¢é Meho.
1 The shamanistic aspect is stressed by K. MEULI, “Scythica’. Herm. 70, 1935, 121. BOWRA
(op. cit., p. 8) favours a development of heroic poetry from a magical to a more anthropo-
centric outlook on the world. k. MAROT tries determinedly to derive epic poetry from the
17
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the truth: this claim is supported by saying either that the story has been reliably
transmitted or that it has been divinely inspired.
The form of the narrative is usually verse, the unit being the single line, not
the stanza. Speeches play an important part in the tale. Perhaps the most striking
feature is the predominance of ‘typical’ elements of language — stock adjectives
and recurrent formulae — and ‘typical’ scenes - arming for the fray, parting,
marriage feasts and funeral rites.
These features are bound up with the essence of this kind of epic. It is a work
of art and craftsmanship, transmitted from master to pupil, often from father to
son. The studies cited above have taught us much about the composition of
such poetry. The singer has two basic weapons in his armoury - knowledge of
his national folk-stories and a ready mastery of all the formulaic elements. He
needs no more. He is innocent of any set text and makes up his song freshly for
each occasion. Naturally he goes mainly on what he and others have sung
before, but he is in no way bound to a fixed text which he must simply repro-
duce. He makes constant changes, usually in the direction of amplifying what
has been sung before. It is a poetry essentially based on the spoken word - the
Americans call it ‘oral composition’ — and it is no less so in a largely literate
society. To take it down in writing or on tape is basically unnatural: one is
compelling a flowing stream to freeze at one point.
There are so many bonds of kinship between oral composition of this kind
and the Homeric poems that we can reasonably think of their early stages in
some such terms. Thus we reach an answer to our former question. What
Phemius and Demodocus sang was not a text fixed and settled for all time, but
an improvisation made up for each occasion with the help of stylized elements
of diction. The subject would be taken from an existing body of myth, the
form dictated by a craft tradition.
Thus by comparing the data afforded by various national epics, we gain a
very good notion of the earliest stages of Homeric epic as we may suppose them
to have existed in Greece and the Greek colonies of Asia Minor several centuries
before the present Iliad and Odyssey took shape. We can hardly suppose that
there were no minstrels in the aristocratic society of Mycenae. But even without
the recent discoveries we could infer a good deal from such things as the remains
of a lyre in the beehive tomb of Menidi in Attica and the fresco from Pylos —
whether the lyre-player be a mortal or (more probably) a tutelary god.1 We
can form no clear notion of the content and form of this Mycenaean poetry?:
sphere of magic, in particular from narratives with magical purpose and from long enumera-
tions in the manner of a litany — the latter being the origin of the epic catalogue. Of his
work A Gordg Irodalom Kezdetei (1956) the first part is available (revised) in a German trans-
lation: Die Anfdnge der griechischen Literatur. Vorfragen. Budapest 1960. It gives references to
other works by the writer on the same theme. His evidences are not, however, sufficient to
support his bold conclusions, cf. Gnom. 33, 1961, 529.
' References in T. B. L. WEBSTER, From Mycenae to Homer. London 1958, 47 n. I and 130n.
2; cf. id., Die Nachfahren Nestors. Janus-Biicher 19. Munich 1961, $7.
* For a lively discussion of the possibilities see Webster, op. cit. W. KULLMANN’S book,
Das Wirken der Gétter in der Ilias. Berl. 1956, contains much that is excellent, but his state-
ments on pre-Homeric poetry are mere surmise.
T8
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
in all probability it dealt in orally transmitted tales of the heroes. For this very
reason we cannot hope to be further enlightened about it by the tablets.
One question still demands our attention: What is the relation between the
poems as they now exist and the practice of oral composition? This is the form
taken by the ‘Homeric question’ now that we can no longer shut our eyes to
the results of the comparative method in literary studies. This question will
arise in our chapter on the origin of the Iliad: for the moment we must turn to
the materials and structure of the poem.

2 THEILIAD: MATERIALS AND COMPOSITION

When we ask what the materials of an epic poem are, we are necessarily asking
what the historical background of the narrative is. In this field also we have
learnt much from the comparative method. German national poetry well
exemplifies what we often meet elsewhere:! the events behind the saga are
historical, but treated with the utmost freedom as regards person, time and
action. The treatment of Theodoric and Attila shows this very clearly. An
equally apposite parallel, though on a smaller scale, has been pointed out by
J. Th. Kakridis.? It comes from the last century, and is a perfect test case to
illustrate the forces at work in the growth of legend. A girl from a good family
in Zacynthus presented Queen Olga with a piece of beautifully worked em-
broidery representing traditional themes. Ten years later a water-carrier on the
island was singing of the happening and of the little work of art. The bare fact
had been preserved, but the details as sung had no connection with reality, or at
best a very tenuous one.
Homeric scholars have not yet learned to draw the right conclusions from
instances of this kind: they still go to extremes. Rhys Carpenter in his book
Folk Tale, Fiction and Saga in the Homeric Epics3 virtually denies any historical
kernel to the poem beyond a vague mise en scéne, and makes the war itself a
fiction. Denys Page in his recent book History and the Homeric Iliad* (an equally
purposeful title!) exploits Hittite texts to the limit to prove the historicity of
the narrative: for him the Iliad reflects the conflict between the Achaeans, with
their base in Rhodes, and the league of Assuwa, to which Troy belonged, at the
time when Hittite power was waning.
Scholarly opinion is still in flux, and our knowledge of history in the second
millennium is steadily growing. At all events, the ruins of Troy, discovered by
' p. vy. KRALIK, ‘Die geschichtlichen Ziigen der deutschen Heldendichtung’. Almanach
Ak. Wien 89, 1939, 299.
2 In a lecture given in Vienna, shortly to be published.
3 Sather Class. Lect. 20. 2nd ed. Univ. of Calif. Press 1956.
4 Sather Class. Lect. 31. Univ. of Calif. Press 1959. More recently FRANZ HAMPL has pub-
lished a vigorously polemical article, ‘Die Ilias ist kein Geschichtsbuch’ (Serta Philologica
Aenipontana. Innsbr. 1961, 37), in which he is critical (for the most part justly) of our
attempts to get at history through the epic. Nevertheless, one may surely suppose as much
historical background to Greek as to German epic; and Usener’s hypothesis that the heroes
are degraded gods has to be applied with extreme caution. HAMPL’S historical survey of the
various attempts to extract history from Homer is useful and welcome. The question is
also discussed by L. PARETI, Omero e la realita storica. Milan 1959.
19
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Schliemann, interpreted by Dérpfeld and recently re-examined by Blegen, are

evidence far too massive for us to evade the question: What connection is there
between the epic narrative and the reality? Mycenaean sherds attest relations
between Troy and mainland Greece - relations which can scarcely have been
always friendly. The rich treasures of Mycenae and the overthrow of the Cretan
maritime empire suggest large-scale plundering expeditions by sea. The sixth
city to be founded on the hill of Hissarlik met its end by violent destruction. It
was an easy inference that a joint enterprise of mainland princes against Troy,
under the more or less unified command of the ruler of Mycenae, formed the
historical core of the legend. Blegen’s researches, however, have raised some
problems afresh. Troy VI, it now appears, was destroyed not by hostile attack,
but by an earthquake about 1300 B.c. The new candidate for the position of
Homer’s Troy is Troy VIla, destroyed apparently about 1200.' The ancients
commonly reckoned the fall of Troy at 1184 — a striking coincidence. On the
other hand, the conquerors were more likely to have been barbarians crossing
the straits in the train of the great migrations than Greeks of the mainland, whose
overthrow was then at hand. The difficulty is a serious one. Schachermeyr has
tried to meet it by supposing that Troy VI was after all the Homeric Troy, and
that the story of the wooden horse is a distorted tradition of the destruction
wrought by Poseidon — Poseidon the ‘Earthshaker’, whose animal symbol was
the horse.
In our general approach to these questions we must not forget how loose the
connections between myth and history usually are. A Mycenaean expedition
against Troy is credible enough in itself, but this would not necessarily have
caused the great fortress city in north-west Asia Minor, whose ruins long
attested its former greatness, to become the nucleus of a great cycle of legend.
In the Iliad we can often see the way in which legends could grow. One of the
centres of power in the Mycenaean world was Pylos in the western Peloponnese,
which we may recognize in the palace of Ano Englianos on the north shore of
Navarino Bay. This palace, partly excavated in 1939, was the scene of the great
discovery of clay tablets inscribed in Linear B.? This part of the Mycenaean world
has found its way into the Iliad in the person of Nestor; and the old man’s
garrulous ways enable the poet to bring large draughts of Pylian legend into
his epic (11. 670 battle with the Epeans; 7. 132 battle with the Arcadians).
Another example is the important role of Lycian heroes like Glaucus, Pandarus
and Sarpedon.3 Mycenaean Greeks had already colonized Rhodes, and they thus
inevitably made contact with Lycians — witness the legend of Bellerophon, whose
grandson Glaucus from Lycia meets the Argive Diomedes on the battlefield
‘ F, SCHACHERMEYR, Poseidon, Berne 1950, 194. For a survey with bibliog. see p. t.
PAGE, History and the Homeric Iliad. Sather Class. Lect. 31. Univ. of Calif. Press. 1959.
7 R. HAMPE, ‘Die hom. Welt im Lichte der neuen Ausgrabungen: Nestor’. Verméchtnis
der alten Kunst. Heidelb. 1950, 11; cf. Gym. 63, 1956, 21. The identification of Ano Englianos
with Pylos is not wholly certain; cf. E. MEYER, ‘Pylos und Navarino’. Mus. Helv. 8, 1951,
119, who adheres to Dorpfeld’s identification of the Homeric Pylos with that in Triphylia
(bee-hive tombs; citadel of Kakovatos).
3 M. P. NILSSON, Homer and Mycenae. London 1933, 261.
20
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

before Troy. They recognize the ties of friendship between them through their
grandparents (6. 119), and exchange armour — gold against bronze. Memories
of war with the Lycians find their way into the Trojan saga, where they appear
as allies of the Trojans, despite their living so far away. Tlepolemus of Rhodes,
who falls in combat with the Lycian Sarpedon, may belong to the Mycenaean
period: on the other hand, the incident may reflect the struggles of the later
Dorian colonists. The last instance shows how extensive a mass of legend we
have to reckon with as possible material for inclusion in the Trojan saga.
Scholars have constantly been exercised by indications linking Paris with
Thessaly and Hector with central Greece: Pausanias (9, 18, 5) says that the
latter’s grave was shown in Thebes.! It is hard to say what these notices are
worth. What we must always bear in mind is that the epic of the siege of Troy
involves heroes of many different places and times.
The rape of Helen as the motive of the siege represents a very different
element. Undoubtedly Helen was once a goddess: she was worshipped in the
Menelaeion at Therapnae, while in Rhodes she had a cult as a tree-goddess
(Sevdpiris). Strangely enough, there is a myth of another rape of Helen, by
Theseus, in her girlhood. Nilsson? compares the stories of the rape of Persephone
and the adventures of Ariadne, and comes to the interesting conclusion that
behind the alleged motive of the siege of Troy there lies an old Minoan myth
of the rape of a vegetation-goddess.
A good deal of the Homeric poems is concerned with the gods, and the action
hinges on their intervention. It was through the epic that Greek poetry acquired
as part of its stock this pantheon of gods loosely united under the rule of Zeus.
We have to ask ourselves on what this pantheon is modelled. Nilsson? again
invokes the Mycenaean age: the Mycenaean overlord is for him the original of
Zeus; and certainly we cannot deny a resemblance between Homer’s scenes in
Olympus and the scenes involving Agamemnon and the other princes. In both
the attitude towards the overlord varies from respect to noisy opposition. We
must admit that the Mycenaean kingdom, as regards its origin and extent, is
rather an unknown quantity. We ought not to underestimate its importance in
this connection, but at the same time we must reckon with near eastern influence
in the Greek representation of the divine hierarchy. Such a view is well supported
by the Hittite texts of which we shall have something to say in connection with
Hesiod: the Hittites in their turn were influenced from Babylon.
The Homeric epics do not confine themselves to presenting the story of
Troy, but allude often to other legends. We may reasonably suppose that these
also can be traced back to the tradition of oral heroic lays which we have
postulated as an earlier stage of the existing epics. We have already mentioned
Pylos and Nestor. A particular interest, however, attaches to those passages
which refer to the other great heroic cycle, centring on Thebes. Here also,
behind the highly wrought romance, lies the historical reality of rivalry between
the two great power centres of the Mycenaean age, in central Greece and the
1 References in HAMPL, op. cit. 44.
ZO PRC AZ52% 3 Op. cit. 266.
B2 21
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Argolid respectively. In the Iliad Diomede is reminded once by Agamemnon

(4. 370) and once by Athene (5. 800) of his father Tydeus, one of the wildest
blades of the ill-fated Seven against Thebes. His companion Sthenelus, whose
father Capaneus also bore his part in the siege, has a retort ready (4. 404): what
the fathers could not do was carried through by the sons, the Epigoni. This
strikingly shows how myth may be intertwined with historical data. The
genealogical connection, which is tied up with a host of mutual relationships,
gives us a chronology of the different myth-cycles. The expedition of the Seven
was one generation before the siege of Troy, while the successful exploit of the
Epigoni came only a short while before it. In the same connection we may
recall the passage in the Odyssey which mentions the Argo as being the only
ship to endure the peril of the Symplegades. The Argo is 7éou éAovoa, which
can only mean that she figured in some widely known poem - now of course
long since vanished.
There are references to other myths in those passages also where a speaker
needs an example to make his point. An instance is the story of Niobe, finely
told by Achilles in the twenty-fourth book of the Iliad: after all her sufferings
the bereaved mother at last consented to take food, and Priam should do like-
wise. The most highly wrought example is the story of Meleager in the ninth
book of the Iliad,! a passage which drags a whole train of problems behind it.
Three speeches — a triptych of the greatest artistry — are delivered to win over
Achilles. Phoenix speaks second, and one of his two main points is the history
of Meleager, the hero of the Calydonian boar-hunt. Because he had killed her
brother, Meleager’s own mother cursed him and prayed for his death. In the
war against the Curetes he withdrew from the battlefield in anger at his mother’s
curse, so that Calydon was in grave danger. Priests sent by the elders, his father,
his sisters, his mother herself and his dearest friends besought him in vain. Only
at the entreaties of his wife Cleopatra did he return to the field, but too late to
enjoy the gifts of a grateful people. Was Homer freely inventing, or did he have
some model to follow? The question has been much debated. The episode is so
independent of the plot of the Iliad that it seems most likely to have been taken
directly from earlier poetry. We may well suppose that the “wrath theme’
occurred in the earlier saga; but in any case Homer would naturally have retold
the tale so as to stress the parallel that Phoenix’s argument demands.
Once we have supposed a pre-Homeric ‘Wrath of Meleager’, we have to ask
ourselves whether Homer was influenced by it in choosing the wrath of Achilles
as the Jeit-motiv of the Iliad. Learned fancy has not shrunk from making such a
poem the whole inspiration of the Iliad, nor from trying to account for the
latter’s form and design on this basis. We need not be so courageous. We must
grant the possibility that the “Wrath of Meleager’ was in Homer’s mind, but
without assuming that he took anything from it beyond the most general
outline.
Another question bearing on the structure and themes of the Iliad has lately
* J. TH. KAKRIDIS, Homeric Researches. Lund 1949. W. KRAUS, ‘Meleagros in der Ilias’.
Wien. Stud. 63, 1948, 8. For a sceptical view: A. HEUBECK, Gyn. 66, 1959, 399.
22
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
been vigorously debated.! The Trojan cycle included an epic called Aethiopis.
Its plot is known to us: it dealt with the later deeds and death of Achilles, in
which his battle with the Ethiopian prince Memnon played an important part.
Many elements in the plot recur in a similar form in the Iliad. In both epics there
is a scene in which Nestor is in great danger: his chariot has been slowed because
Paris has wounded one of the horses. In the Iliad (8. 90) Diomede rescues him,
taking the old man into his own chariot: in the Aethiopis Nestor’s son Anti-
lochus rescues him at the cost of his own life. Achilles kills Memnon to avenge
a friend, as he kills Hector to avenge Patroclus. In both poems a god weighs the
fates of the two heroes before the decisive meeting. In both Thetis warns her
son that, although victorious in the coming encounter, he must shortly die. The
removal of Memnon’s body by Sleep and Death corresponds to that of Sarpe-
don’s body in the Iliad (16. 454, 671). In the Aethiopis, after the death of Memnon,
Achilles assaults Troy and is wounded by a spear from Paris before the Scaean
gate. It may be a reflection of this episode that Achilles in the Iliad, after Hector’s
death, leads an attack on the city but then changes his mind and returns to
camp. There is thus good ground for thinking that Homer may have been
influenced by the story of Memnon in choosing the wrath of Achilles as the
central theme of the Iliad.
Before accepting this view, however, we must weigh up the arguments
against it. The Aethiopis is one of the ‘cyclic epics’, which we have reason to
date later than the Odyssey (v. inf. p. 79). This of course does not mean that it
did not preserve ancient material: the cyclic poem no doubt had its models as
the Iliad did. In general, when we find the same narrative element fully worked
out in one instance and only in rudimentary form elsewhere, it is natural to
suppose that the line of evolution has been from the imperfect to the more
satisfactory form.
We shall now give a short outline of the contents of the Iliad, mainly intended
to show the coherence of the overall structure, which few nowadays would be
inclined to dispute. There will, however, be no attempt to gloss over the
difficulties and inconsistencies which first encouraged the rise of the analytical
school: these we shall discuss more fully in the next section. Both epics have
come down to us divided into twenty-four books. The book-length in the
Tliad varies between 424 lines (19) and 909 (5). This division must be fairly old:
possibly it was made by Zenodotus. The ends of the books usually come at a
' ¥. PESTALOZZI, Die Achilleis als Quelle der Ilias. Ziirich 1945. W. SCHADEWALDT, ‘ Ein-
blick in der Erfindung der Ilias. Ilias und Memnonis.’ Von Homers Welt und Werk. 3rd ed.
Stuttg. 1959, 155. For criticism of this theory see KAKRIDIS, op. cit. 65, I; F. FOCKE, La
Nouvelle Clio 1951, 335; especially the detailed examination by u. HOLSCHER, Gnom. 27,
1955, 392. After a series of individual studies (Mus. Helv. 12, 1955, 253. Phil. 99, 1955, 167;
100, 1956, 132), W. KULLMANN has dealt with the relation of the Iliad to other epics in a
broader context in Die Quelle der Ilias (Troischer Sagenkreis). Herm. E. 14, 1960. He over-
estimates the extent to which definite conclusions are possible; but his observations and
inferences possess considerable value as long as we bear in mind that, when we think of
Homer as using pre-existing themes, there is no need to suppose that one ofthe cyclic epics
was his source. These poems presuppose an extensive epic tradition; and it is this that may
have influenced Homer.
23
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

fairly clear break in the action, and names were given by the ancients to indi-
vidual books (cf. Thuc. 1, 10, 4 ve@v katdAoyos). Presumably this more or less
natural division goes back to the practice of the rhapsodes in reciting Homer.
The first book leads quickly up to the quarrel between Achilles and Aga-
memnon. The word pfs in the first verse strongly accentuates the central
theme: the poem then flashes back to the first cause of the quarrel, the injury
done by Agamemnon to the priest of Apollo. From this point it goes forward
again in continuous narrative.! The commander has incurred Apollo’s wrath
by failing to restore the captive Chryseis to her father, and the arrows of the god
are smiting the host. In the general council Agamemnon cannot but obey the
seers pronouncement: but he compensates himself by taking Briseis, who is
Achilles’ prize. Thereafter one striking incident follows another: the leaders
quarrel, Athene dissuades Achilles from rash action, Achilles swears never to
take the field again, Briseis is led away. Achilles calls his mother from the depths
of the sea and asks her to obtain from Zeus some gratification of his resentment.
Thetis agrees to do so when the gods shall have returned from their twelve-day
banquet among the Ethiopians. Meanwhile Odysseus has returned Chryseis to
her father, who placates the god towards the Greeks. Thetis lays her request
before Zeus, who nods assent. His intentions are kept secret from all, including
Hera, despite her bitter complaints. It is left for the cupbearer Hephaestus — lame
and the butt of everyone’s joke — to bring back the laughter which should
accompany the feasts of the immortals.
We were told in the fifth line of book I that the will of Zeus was fulfilled in
all that came to pass.2 The working of the divine will begins the next night,
when Zeus sends a dream commanding Agamemnon to attack Troy. The king
tells the elders and assembles the army. It is now near the end of the ninth year
(2. 134, 295), and it seems advisable to sound the feelings of the warriors.
Agamemnon pretends a desire to return home, and the idea is more popular
than he had thought. The attitude of the army delays the joining of battle, but
Odysseus and Nestor rally the ranks for war: Thersites rails against the leaders,
but is put to silence. A succession of highly wrought similes now describes the
marshalling of the army: then follows a fresh invocation of the Muses to give
an accurate account of Greek strength in the “Catalogue of Ships’, which is
followed by a shorter catalogue of the Trojan and allied forces. (2)
Despite these elaborate preliminaries, general battle is not yet to be joined.
A new delaying device holds up the increasing pressure of events. Paris declares
himself ready to settle the issue by single combat with Menelaus, and at the last
minute an armistice is declared. Iris takes human form, speaks to Helen, and the
latter goes up to the wall over the Scaean gate, where Priam and the elders are
gazing onto the plain. At the king’s request she names and points out the greatest
' Cf. A. LESKY, Géttliche und menschliche Motivation im homerischen Epos. Sitzb. Heidelb.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1961/4. 16.
* W. KULLMANN, Phil. 99, 1955, 167; 100, 1956, 132; Herm. E 14, 1960, 47, N. 2. 210,
takes Avds Bovdy as the plan mentioned at the start of the Cypria to free the earth from an
excessive human population. [ cannot agree: the BovAy is simply Zeus’ intention to hurt the
Achaeans in response to Thetis’ prayer: cf. Lesky op. cit. 15.
24
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

warriors of the Achaeans. Priam is then called into the field to swear that he will
abide by the issue of the single combat. Menelaus’ sword breaks on Paris’ helmet:
he seizes him by the chinstrap and drags him towards the Achaean lines. Paris’
fate seems sealed, but Aphrodite makes the strap break, and rescues Paris in a
cloud, taking him back to his own house. Then, taking the shape of an old
woman, she bullies Helen and drives her into Paris’ arms. This striking deliver-
ance of Aphrodite’s favourite has created an ambiguous situation: Paris is
dallying with Helen, while Menelaus rages over the field seeking him. Aga-
memnon claims victory for his brother and the return of Helen and the booty:
the war, he declares, is at an end. (3)
The Achaean king may be in earnest in this view, but in the ensuing scene in
Olympus Zeus propounds it only to anger Hera and Athene. Both demand the
destruction of Troy; but we are not yet told the cause of their hatred. At Hera’s
request Zeus agrees — there is no other way of keeping his promise to Thetis — to
send Athene to the Trojan field, where she provokes Pandarus to break the
armistice by shooting at Menelaus. The latter is wounded, but speedily healed
by Machaon, son of Asclepius and physician to the army. Fighting is to be
renewed: Agamemnon urges on the heroes with words of praise or censure.
Last to be addressed is Diomede, whom Agamemnon singles out for reproach.
Unlike Achilles, Diomede takes rebuke patiently; but Sthenelus retorts sharply.
(4)
Diomede is now to the fore: Pandarus’ arrow cannot hurt him; Athene
strengthens him; his prowess is not content with mortal adversaries. He wounds
Aphrodite in the hand as she intervenes to protect her son Aeneas: she flies to
Olympus to be comforted by her mother Dione. Next Apollo protects Aeneas:
Diomede prepares to attack him too, but the god’s warning voice keeps him
back. With the encouragement and support of Ares the Trojans attack boldly.
Hera and Athene plunge into the fray - the latter even serves as Diomede’s
charioteer. With their help he wounds Ares, who flees to Olympus, and the
goddesses also withdraw. (5)
The Trojans’ danger grows greater. The seer Helenus calls on Hector and
Aeneas to rally the ranks; then he sends Hector into the city, where the women
are to propitiate Athene with offerings and vows. Meanwhile Glaucus and
Diomede meet on the field of battle, recognize each other as guest-friends, and
exchange armour — the Lycian’s gold against the Argive’s bronze. This encounter
in the midst of the fighting serves as an example of knightly courtesy: it has
another function also — to hold up the swift development of the action in the
fifth book and to let us see what is happening in Troy. Hector hastens to his
mother, and the Trojan women fall to their ineffective prayers. He next looks
for Paris, to recall him to the field: he wishes to bid farewell to his wife and
child, but they are not at home. He finds them by the Scaean gate, to which
Andromache’s fears have driven her. There is a conversation between husband
and wife, full of love and grief, as if Hector were never more to return home.
Andromache goes back to the house and mourns him as if he were already dead.
Paris now joins Hector, and they return to the battle. (6)
25
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Fighting now flares up again; but Athene and Apollo agree that it has gone
far enough for the day, and that Hector should challenge one of the Achaeans
to single combat. The seer Helenus transmits their decision, and Hector sends
out his challenge. Ajax is chosen by lot to be his opponent. At the approach of
night the combatants are separated by heralds, and the day ends as indecisively
as it began. The Greeks decide to bury their dead next morning and to build a
wall round their ships. The Trojans for their part ask for the return of the bodies
of the fallen, and are willing, since Paris will not give up Helen, to return at all
events the treasure. The Greeks reject the overture, but next morning the dead
are collected and burned. The wall round the ships is built in the course of the
next day. (7)
Zeus forbids the gods to take part in the battle, which he surveys from the
summit of Ida. The fighting begins with the dawn, and at midday Zeus weighs
the lots of the opposing armies: the scales decide for the Trojans. In the varying
fortunes of the battle Diomede remains the mainstay of the Achaeans, while
Hector, confident of ultimate victory, is the champion of the Trojans. Hera is
obstinate in her determination to break the commands of Zeus: she tries un-
successfully to persuade Poseidon to intervene in the fighting, and gives fresh
courage to Agamemnon, who prevails upon Zeus to spare the hard-pressed
Achaean host. Hera tries to help them, but Iris brings her a peremptory com-
mand from Zeus. Now the Thunderer himself comes and explains his plan for
the future: the next day is to bring even more misfortune to the Greeks, and
Hector will remain unchecked until Achilles takes the field in defence of the
ships and fighting rages round the corpse of Patroclus. Night ends the still
indecisive battle, and Hector camps with his followers on the plain. (8)
In his despondency Agamemnon now inclines to the counsel which in Book
II he had proposed only to test reactions — to break off the war and go home.
He is vigorously opposed by Diomede: in a council of the princes Nestor
suggests an appeal to Achilles. Agamemnon is willing to provide the necessary
gifts for an embassy to Achilles, and Odysseus, Ajax and Phoenix set out to his
tent. They are well received, and make speeches to win him over. Odysseus
speaks with skill and address; Phoenix is more human and emotional, with well-
chosen examples; the speech of Ajax is brief and soldierly. They move Achilles’
feelings, but his resentment still cannot be assuaged: he will fight when Hector
attacks his ships, not before. The ambassadors return with their bad news, but
Diomede urges all to be calm and confident. (9)
Everyone is asleep except Agamemnon and Menelaus, who wander anxiously
about the camp. Meeting each other outside, near the sentinels, they decide to
send Odysseus and Diomede to reconnoitre. Hector also has sent out a spy,
Dolon, promising him the horses of Achilles. He falls in with the two Greeks,
who find out all that he knows and then despatch him, having thus learned of
the arrival of the Thracian king Rhesus with his splendid horses. They kill
Rhesus and twelve of his followers, and ride back to camp with the horses. (10)
The next day’s fighting (the description of which lasts until book 18) begins
with the aristeia of Agamemnon. His arms are described in great detail. Once
26
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

again the expected development of the action is held up: Agamemnon’s prowess
seems likely to unsettle Zeus’ plan for the discomfiture of the Achaeans, but the
god knows what he is about. He sends Iris to Hector, telling him to hold back
while Agamemnon is fighting: his time will come when Agamemnon is
wounded and leaves the field. So it comes to pass, but Odysseus and Diomede
maintain the battle on equal terms. The wounding of Diomede leaves Odysseus
in sore straits, and even Ajax now gives ground before the numbers of the
enemy. Nestor takes the wounded Machaon onto his chariot: Achilles, viewing
the battle from the prow of his ship, wants to know whom Nestor is rescuing, and
sends Patroclus to find out. The old man holds Patroclus long in conversation
and urges him to persuade Achilles to fight, or alternatively to give his arms to
Patroclus and send him into the fray. Patroclus, moved by this appeal, hurries
back: on his way he meets the wounded Eurypylus, who needs medical help
and gives but a poor account of Greek prospects. (11)
The first verses of book 12 begin a new section — lasting until the end of 15 -
of the great battle. At the start we find the Achaeans fighting to defend the wall
round their ships, although their retreat from the battlefield has not been
described. In fact, by a technique unusual in epic, it has taken place while
Patroclus has his scenes with Nestor and Eurypylus. By the end of 15 Hector is
about to set fire to the Greek ships. The intervening four books contain a
sequence — only substantially interrupted by the machinations of Hera in 14 —
of fluctuating fortune in general and individual encounter, deeds of heroes and
deaths of lesser mortals, clearly composed as an artistic whole.'
After the retreat of the Achaeans to their ships, the Trojans try to storm the
wall. Hector’s first proposal, to drive at it headlong in their chariots, is opposed
by Polydamas, who more wisely wishes to leave the chariots at the edge of the
ditch. This is his first appearance as adviser and amender of Hector’s counsels —
a role which he sustains up till book 18. The fate of Asius, who assaults the wall
singlehanded in his chariot, shows that Polydamas cannot be disregarded with
impunity. The Trojans, attacking in five companies, are appalled by an evil
omen, and Polydamas counsels withdrawal. Hector rejects the warning and
renews the attack. Sarpedon breaks down part of the palisade, and Hector
shatters one of the gates with a great stone. (12)
Despite the commands of Zeus, the gods who favour the Achaeans can
remain onlookers of their peril no longer. Poseidon, in the guise of Calchas,
encourages them to fight bravely: later, in the shape now of Thoas, he is further
grieved to see his grandson Amphimachus slain by Hector. In the long drawn-
out battle that follows, in which Idomencus, king of Crete, plays a dominating
part, Achaean resistance grows stiffer. Polydamas calls for a concentration of
the Trojan force and in a council of war warns Hector that Achilles will not
remain idle much longer. Hector accepts the advice to call his men together,
but disregards the reference to Achilles. The battle goes on. (13)

t This is shown in detail by F. J. WINTER, Die Kampfszenen in den Gesdingen MNO der Ilias.
Diss. Frankf.a.M. 1956 (phototype). On the technique of the less important episodes:
Gisela Strasburger, Die kleinen Kampfer der Ilias. Diss. Prankf.a.M. 1954.
27
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Nestor now leaves Machaon, whom he has been tending in his pavilion, to
find how the battle is going. He meets Diomede, Odysseus and Agamemnon,
all returning wounded from the fray. For the third time Agamemnon speaks of
withdrawal, now in terms of flight under cover of darkness. Odysseus and
Diomede disagree: Poseidon encourages the king, and his voice puts heart into
the army. Female cunning now enters the lists: Hera borrows Aphrodite’s
enchanted saltiret and rouses Zeus’ passion on Mount Ida, where he soon
enough falls asleep. Her helper Hypnus hastens to the plain to tell Poseidon that
he can now help the Greeks without thought of Zeus. The god vigorously
encourages them, and soon a stone from Ajax lays Hector low. He is long
senseless, and meanwhile the Trojans suffer other setbacks. (14)
The Trojans have been driven back over the ditch when Zeus wakes up and
sees how he has been deceived. Hera has to obey his command and send Iris
and Apollo to him. Now for the first time she fully learns his plan: Iris is to
summon Poseidon from the field; Hector, strengthened by Apollo, will drive
the Greeks back to the ships of Achilles, whereupon the latter will send Patroclus
into battle. Patroclus will have many successes — he will even slay Sarpedon — but
in the end he will fall by Hector’s hand. In revenge Achilles will kill Hector,
and from then on the fate of the Trojans will be sealed. In the end their city will
be overthrown by a device of Athene’s (the wooden horse). Hera conveys the
commands of Zeus to Olympus, where Athene restrains Ares from a rash inter-
vention in the battle. Poseidon unwillingly obeys the command brought by
Iris, and Hector with renewed strength drives the Greeks back into their camp.
Apollo himself levels the ditch and breaches the wall: the Greeks are panic-
stricken as he shakes the aegis. As the Trojans enter, Patroclus leaves the wounded
Eurypylus and runs to Achilles. Already the Trojans bearing firebrands are
approaching the nearest ships, and only Ajax still offers effective resistance.
(15)
Patroclus’ tearful entreaties are wasted on Achilles, who still cannot forget
the injustice done him and has no time for Achaean self-pity. Nevertheless he
sends Patroclus with the Myrmidons and lends him his own armour, telling
him to repel the Trojans from the ships, but to go no further, lest he diminish
Achilles’ reputation or meet some god who favours the Trojans. Ajax is now
exhausted, and Achilles urges Patroclus to make haste, praying to Zeus of Do-
dona to grant him a safe return. Patroclus drives back the Trojans from the ships
and performs prodigies of valour. Sarpedon falls by his hand, the son of Zeus
himself. The battle rages around his body; Zeus allows Apollo to shield it, and
Sleep and Death convey it to Lycia. Patroclus forgets his friend’s warning and
attacks the very walls of Troy. He is repulsed by Apollo, who takes the form of
Asius and summons Hector to fight him. As the sun sinks, the god himself
comes behind Patroclus and strikes him between the shoulders, so that his arms

* Nota girdle: see C. BONNER, ‘ Keorés {uds and the Saltire of Aphrodite’. Am. Journ. Phil.
70, 1949, I. He has traced the lucky saltire over the breast from the naked fertility goddesses
of Ksich and Susa (3rd millennium 8.c.) down to Venus and Mars in a Pompeian wall-
painting.
28
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
fall from him. Euphorbus wounds him from behind with a spear, and Hector
transfixes him with his lance. (16)
A furious battle rages round the corpse. Menelaus slays Euphorbus, but
retreats before Hector, who strips Achilles’ armour from Patroclus’ body and
puts it on. The Achaeans defend the body, stoutly led by Ajax. Thick darkness
overtakes the combatants. Achilles’ divine steeds, mourning for Patroclus, are
given fresh heart by Zeus. Athene and Apollo add further fury to the fight
around the corpse. At the prayer of Ajax, Zeus takes away the darkness: now
Menelaus can look for Antilochus, the son of Nestor, and send him to Achilles
with the fatal tidings. Victory inclines towards the Trojans, but Menelaus and
Meriones drag away the body, while the two Ajaxes defend them from the
angry onslaughts of the enemy. (17)
Achilles is seized with such violent grief that Thetis and the Nereids come
from the sea to comfort him. His mother offers him new arms, but says that
Hector’s death must shortly be followed by his own. The body of Patroclus is
still in the gravest danger, and Achilles, directed by Iris and endowed with
fearful stature by Athene, runs to the ditch, where his war-cry appals the Trojans.
Hera hastily makes the sun set, and the battle ends. Polydamas repeats his
warning, but Hector makes the Trojans camp in the field so as to renew the
battle next day. Achilles bewails his dead friend, while Hephaestus at Thetis’
entreaty makes new arms for him, in particular a wondrous shield with metal
inlays displaying all the scenes of human life." (18)
At dawn Thetis brings these arms to her son, and preserves Patroclus’ body
with ambrosia. Achilles calls for a meeting of the host, briefly renouncing his
resentment, while Agamemnon in a long speech laments the folly that Zeus had
sent upon him and promises reparation. He also swears that he has never
touched Briseis. Achilles’ impatience will hardly brook delay while the army
eats. The forces are marshalled and Achilles arms himself. His horse speaks,
prophesying his death. (19)
For the last battle, the most ferocious of all in the Iliad, Zeus leaves the gods
free to do what they will. As they enter the lists, Zeus thunders, Poseidon sends
an earthquake; but as yet they are spectators. Achilles first meets Aeneas, whom
Poseidon rescues. Hector also is once more saved from death by Apollo.
Achilles rages like a forest fire in dry woods. (20)
The battle beside the river is on a level of elemental savagery. Achilles fills
the Scamander with corpses, and takes twelve youths prisoner to be sacrificed

' p. J. KAKRIDIS (‘Achilleus’ Riistung.’ Herm. 89, 1961, 288) has recently shown that the
exchanging and losing of the armour is a late thematic element, probably invented by
Homer, and that it gives considerable possibilities, but some difficulties as well. He rightly
reminds us that Achilles’ first armour was a divine gift and of divine workmanship (Il. 17,
195. 18, 84). — On the shield: w. scHADEWALDT, Von Homers Welt und Werk. 3rd ed.
Stuttg. 1959, 352. K. REINHARDT, ‘Der Schild des Achilleus’. FreundesgabefiirE. R. Curtius.
Berne 1956, 67, makes much ofthe contrast between the festive scenes on the shield and the
events which follow in the narrative. He also notes the absence from the shield of scenes of
contest — an element which was to be provided by the Funeral Games. w. MARG, Homer
iiber die Dichtung. Orbis antiquus 11. Munster 1957.
29
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

for Patroclus. Lycaon, Priam’s son, pleads in vain for his life: he too is slain and
thrown into the river. The river god protests, Achilles rages on unheeding, and
Scamander now threatens him with his waters. The gods now take a hand;
Hephaestus with his fire dries up the plain and defeats the river. By now the
gods are fighting after their various fashions: Athene wounds Ares with a stone,
but Apollo declines to fight with Poséidon over mortal men. Artemis is more
bellicose, until Hera breaks her bow and arrows over her head. All the gods now
return to Olympus. Agenor posts himself before the gate to withstand Achilles’
assault, but Apollo rescues him, takes his shape, and lures Achilles away, so that
the Heeing Trojans can withdraw within the walls. (21)
Hector remains in the field, despite the prayers of Priam and Hecuba that he
should take refuge in the city. He recalls now how he was thrice warned by
Polydamas and how he led his countrymen to destruction. Achilles approaches,
and he flees from him three times round the walls of the city. Zeus weighs the
fatal lots: that of Hector sinks. Apollo now deserts his favourite, and Athene
checks his flight by appearing in the form of Deiphobus and promising help.
Hector falls at the hand of Achilles. As in his anger, so in his revenge Achilles
knows no bounds. The dying Hector had begged that his body be given back
for burial: Achilles drags the corpse to the ships behind his chariot. Priam,
Hecuba and Andromache break into wild lamentation. (22)
Two corpses now await the purifying flames. Three times the Myrmidons
march round the corpse of Patroclus; finally they hold the funeral feast. His
shade appears to Achilles and prays for speedy cremation. Next morning the
pyre is made ready: the flames are fed with sumptuous offerings - among them
the twelve Trojan captives. The next day the bones of Patroclus are gathered
together, and elaborate funeral games with costly prizes are celebrated. In the
various contests Odysseus and Ajax are pitted against each other — craft against
strength. The indecisive wrestling-match is a foretaste of the later ‘judgment
of arms’ — a theme probably known to Homer. It is significant that Achilles,
not hitherto noted for temperance of emotion or expression, plays the part of
the peacemaker in a dispute over the chariot-race. Here we have an anticipation
of the Achilles of the ransom scenes. (23)
The anger and grief of Achilles are far from assuaged. Every day he drags
Hector’s body three times round Patroclus’ grave. On the twelfth day the gods
intervene. Against the wishes of the gods who hate the Trojans — it is here that
we are first told of the judgment of Paris! as the cause of Hera’s and Athene’s
hatred — Thetis is sent to Achilles to ask him to return the body of Hector. Iris
persuades Priam to face a visit to the Greek camp. By night he sets out with rich
gifts for the man who slew the noblest of his sons. Achilles thinks of his own
father: both men weep and dismiss their anger and resentment. The angry and
implacable Achilles has learned to open his heart to another’s grief.? Priam
' K, REINHARDT, Das Parisurteil. Frankf.a.M. 1938 (= Von Werken und Formen. Godes-
berg 1948, 11).
* ‘This is well brought out by Walter Nestle, ‘Odyssce-Interpretationen’. Herm. 77, 1942,
70. He points out the contrast between the Achilles who refuses to eat in his grief and anger
and the Achilles who tells the story of Niobe to encourage Priam to take food.
30
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

returns with Hector’s body and the promise of an armistice of twelve days.
Andromache, Hecuba and Helen bewail Hector. For nine days the Trojans
gather wood; then Hector’s pyre is kindled and his burial mound is built.
The architectonic grandeur of this plan has never been more truly appreciated
than it was by Aristotle. In the Poetics (23. 1459a30, cf. 26. 1462br0) he contrasts
the genius of its plan with the cyclic epics: Homer does not recount the whole
history of the war — he selects one part and enlivens it with numerous episodes.
We may add that these episodes meet Aristotle’s requirement of being pertinent
(olketa 17. 1455b13): the single exception, the Doloneia, will be discussed later,
We can make Aristotle more explicit: the central conception, that of assembling
and articulating a series of events around the theme of Achilles’ anger, is realized
in such a way as to turn the narration into a ‘tale of Troy’ at the same time. The
duration of the action has been reckoned as fifty days; but if we deduct intervals
of inactivity such as the nine days’ plague, the twelve days in which the gods
are with the Ethiopians, the twelve days of insulting Hector’s body, there
remain only a few days which receive detailed narrative treatment. In this short
compass Homer contrives to mirror the entire war against Troy. He does so by
two methods. The brief narrative of the quarrel is followed by more spaciously
managed scenes of the Trojan war. Among these is the sounding of opinion in
the army — a scene which would be strange out of its context, but makes good
sense where it is: nine years have passed, the Greeks are war-weary, and new
efforts are needed to set the siege in train once more. This start of a new phase
enables the poet to bring in elements which would normally belong to the
opening of the war — the teichoscopia and the proposal to settle the issue by single
combat.
On the other hand Homer uses forward-looking references, scattered through-
out the poem, which make the tragic issue of the action a characteristic element
in the narrative. He does this both for Achilles and for the Trojan people — the
principal actors in the drama — without any narration in the poet’s own words.
Under the impact of Pandarus’ treachery, Agamemnon speaks confidently of
the city’s downfall (4. 164): on Hector’s lips (6. 448) the same words seem the
expression of a gloomy certainty. Diomede also, on hearing the proposal to
meet half the Greek demands, cries out that any simpleton can see that the
Trojans are in the toils of destruction (7. 401). This kind of anticipation comes
more often in the latter half of the poem,! and we so completely identify the
Trojan resistance with Hector that his end seems the end of the city. Achilles
stands in the shadow of early death from the very first conversation with his
mother (1. 416); and from passage to passage the threat of his death is ever
more sharp and definite.*
Thus through all the various episodes of this great poem interest is concen-
trated on a few leading themes and on a few leading actors. On these Homer
bestows that strongly marked personality which the Greeks called ‘ethos’. The
shape that he gave to the characters earned the praise of Aristotle (Poet. 24.
I Ww. SCHADEWALDT, Iliasstudien. Leipz. 1938, 156, 4.
2 Iliad 1, 416. 18, 95. 19, 408; 416. 21, I10. 22, 358.
31
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

1460a10) and became the norm in Greek poetry and the whole western literary
tradition.
Three of them receive from the poet a destiny with strong tragic colouring.
Achilles! in particular treads the path of his own uncontrollable passions. The
decisive hour comes for him when the three ambassadors beg him to alter his
decision. He himself declares (9. 645) that his judgment is not master of his
resentment: and in consequence he has to lose his best friend and hasten his own
death by taking revenge on Hector. He is depicted as not without insight. It
would be wrong to speak of repentance; but the speaker does show awareness
of the fatal interconnection when he tells Thetis (18. 98 ff.) that all his prowess
has done is to spread misery around him, and he curses strife and anger which
darken men’s counsel. The same theme is alluded to in his words to Agamemnon
where they are first reconciled (19. 56). Hector? is driven by his success to over-
step the bounds marked out for him. He hears Polydamas’ threefold warning,
yet goes his way to his own death and the ruin of those whom he loves. A
passage of book 17justifies us in using the word ‘tragic’: Zeus looks down at
Hector, putting on Achilles’ armour which he has won; he pities the poor
mortal as he delights in his splendid equipment while the gates of death open
before him. In his soliloquy before the Scaean gate, when he expects to die by
his enemy’s hand (22. 99), he also has his moment ofinsight: he sees that he has
been wrong, and significantly enough Polydamas and his warnings come back
to his mind. Equally so Patroclus knows no restraint in victory; his friends too
warned him in vain, and he paid for it with his life.
The kind of destiny allotted to these three personages invites comparison with
tragedy, and the comparison is important if we are properly to appreciate the
Iliad. The poem does not merely fulfil the demands of epic poetry: it goes far
beyond them towards the realm of tragedy. Instead of uniform flow and un-
hurried narration of events, we find an artistic scheme of interconnection and
cross-reference, happenings sometimes briefly sketched, sometimes elaborately
worked out. This applies to the main themes. Many sections, however — blow-
by-blow narratives of battles, standard scenes and descriptions, etc. — belong to
the ordinary stock of epic. Aristotle (Rhet. 3, 9. 1409a24) divides style into two
main classes — the flowing and the periodic. We may apply this conception to
the construction of the Iliad: a structure of elaborate artistry contains consider-
able stretches of simple, flowing epic narrative. The reasons for this mixture of
naive and artificial elements will be discussed in the next section.

3 THE HOMERIC QUESTION

While it is necessary for the student of Homer to appreciate the structure of the
Iliad as it deserves, it would be wrong to overlook the many difficulties which
strike us when we look closely at the text. In the search for inconsistencies

1 LUCIANA QUAGLTA, ‘La figura di Achille e |’ etica dell’ Iliade’. Atti della Accad. delle
Scienze di Torino 95, 1960/61.
2 g. wUstT, ‘Hektor und Polydamas’. Rhein. Mus. 98, 1955, 335. LUCIANA QUAGLIA, ‘La
figura di Ettore el’ etica dell’ Iiade’. Atti della Accad. delle Scienze di Torino 94, 1959/60.
32
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
criticism has sometimes set standards far too high for works of art; but there
remains enough to deserve serious consideration. A few examples will show
the general nature of these problems.
There is one Palaemenes, king of the Paphlagonians, who in s. $76 is slain by
Patroclus, but is later (13. 658) found mourning the death of
his son Harpalion.
In 15. 63 we hear Zeus’ pronouncement that Hector will pursue the fleeing
Achaeans to the ships of Achilles; but at the end of the book (704) his attack is
on the ship of Protesilaus. In the twenty-fourth book (182, cf. 153) we read that
Iris promises Priam in the name of Zeus safe guidance at the hands of Hermes;
but in the following scenes — the conversation of Priam with the anxious
Hecuba and his later meeting with the god — the promise is entirely forgotten.
Again, one finds themes so completely isolated and disconnected as Aeneas’
animosity against Priam (13. 460), for which other passages (20. 180. 306)
provide no more than the shadow of a context. But the greatest stumbling-
block in the Iliad is the notorious dual number, used in 9. 182-198 referring to
the three ambassadors - Odysseus, Ajax and Phoenix. None of the attempted
explanations is satisfactory.
We may add some passages intended to show what totally different interpre-
tations are sometimes possible according to the standpoint of the critic. A theme
of the first importance to the analytical critic is the building of the wall? around
the ships, advised by Nestor (7. 337) and carried out in one day (465). The
analysts have roundly declared that there is no good ground for this wall-
building, or at any rate none that we are clearly told. The unitarians, taking the
general plot of the poem as their starting-point, have maintained that the very
purpose of the wall theme is to underline the desperate plight of the Greeks in
consequence of Achilles’ anger. They take the wall as being a personal invention
of Homer’s, and point to the care the poet takes to explain why no remains of
the wall were to be found in the neighbourhood of Troy (7. 459; 12. Io).
Further objection has been taken to the Greeks’ deciding to protect their camp
with a wall just when Diomede is forecasting the speedy overthrow of Troy
(7. 401). On the other hand one could maintain that the two contrasting ideas
are significantly representative of the two main themes ~ wrath of Achilles and
fall of Troy. It might be argued that at this nadir of the Greek fortunes the poet
intended to preserve a balance by affording us a reminder of the actual outcome.
The scene between Hector and Andromache? in book 6 also sets critics at
variance. Some find their taste offended because after this scene of anxious
farewell Hector in fact returns home again. (His return can be inferred, though
it is nowhere specifically stated.) Consequently this is an example of an old ‘lay’
1 mM. NOE, Phoinix, Ilias und Homer. Preisschrift Jablonowski-Gesellschaft. 1940, 12. D. L.
PAGE, History and the Homeric Iliad. Sather Classical Lectures 31. Univ. of Calif. Press 1959,
oye
: : W. SCHADEWALDT, Iliasstudien. Abh. Sachs. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 43, 6, 1938, 124, 2. An
analytical standpoint is adopted by pace (op. cit. 315), who compares Thuc. 1, 11 and
infers that the wall-building sequence was not incorporated until after Thucydides’ time.
3 G, JACHMANN, ‘Homerische Einzellieder’. Symbola Coloniensia. Cologne 1949, 1. But
cf. w. SCHADEWALDT, ‘Hektor in der Ilias’. Wiener Studien 69, 1956, 5.
a3
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

rather clumsily fudged into the Iliad by a compiler who got it into the wrong
place. Others will maintain that we should attach no importance to matters
which are not stressed or indeed mentioned at all by the poet. What is important,
they say, is that the scene should give as forcible an impression as can be of
Hector’s character; that the hero, who now has but a few days to live, should
for the rest of the poem seem to us a symbol of his own fate, assured of the
reader’s interest and already pointing a moral. The question that Achilles puts
to the weeping Patroclus at the beginning of book 16 — ‘Has some bad news
come from home?’ — must to the eye of logic seem senseless and incompre-
hensible where it stands. But anyone who compares it with other passages in
which intractable obstinacy is stressed as an element in Achilles’ character will
see that his very manner of putting the question is a masterpiece of characteriza-
tion.! Opinion is divided whether or not Achilles could say what he does in
I1. 609 and 16. 72 after receiving the embassy.”
These few examples show the problems that are raised if individual passages
are subjected to logical scrutiny. This kind of criticism began with the Alex-
andrians, but did not go so far as to take the poems to pieces. The analytical
movement had only one precursor in modern times? — the abbé Francois
Hédelin d’ Aubignac, whose motive was to defend Homer against the deprecia-
tion which was fashionable in the France of his day. The poetical value of the
Iliad, he suggested, lay in individual passages, which some unknown hand put
together into a whole. This view was expressed in 1664, but not printed until
1715, as Conjectures académiques ou dissertation sur I’Iliade. It has been validly
urged against Friedrich August Wolf that he made no due acknowledgment
to this study. It is beyond dispute, however, that the whole subsequent develop-
ment of the Homeric question stems from Wolf’s Prolegomena ad Homerum
(1795). His main theses, that writing was unknown in the Homeric age, that the
poems had a long oral tradition, and that the Pisistratean recension was of great
importance for the text, long remained central pillars of Homeric studies. The
profound effect of this theory on the world of scholarship was not matched by
its effect on contemporary literature. Goethe’s attitude was typical of most: he
acknowledged the force of the criticism, but sometimes deplored the subjective
element in the constantly varying theories.
For a long time the history of Homeric scholarship was one of analysts
striving with various success to breach the walls of the unitarians. No purpose
would be served by attempting a detailed account of the analytical theories,
which are of bewildering complexity:* it must suffice to outline a few typical
1 Analytically treated by G. JACHMANN, Der Hom. Schiffskatalog und die Ilias. Wiss. Abh.
Arbeitsgem. Nordrhein-Westfalen 5. Cologne 1958, 59 (agrees with GODFREY HERMANN).
But cf. a. LesKy, ‘Zur Eingangsszene der Patroklie’. Serta Philologica Aenipontana. Innsbr.
1961, I9.
* For the opposing views see W. SCHADEWALDT, Iliasstudien (v. sup.) 81 and 129: Jach-
mann op. cit. 56 and 80.
° G. FINSLER, Hoiner in der Neuzeit von Dante bis Goethe. Leipz. 1912.
+ We need only mention one or two of the older works which have valuable observa-
tions as well as representing different analytical schools: u. VON WILAMOWITz, Die Ilias
34
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
positions of leading exponents. It has been supposed that the poem was planned
as a unity, and that around an original Iliad of moderate compass gradual
accretion took place which eventually brought the poem to its present form.
This ‘expansion theory’, long the arena of fierce conflict, claimed Gottfried
Hermann (1772-1848) as one of its first exponents. Contemporary with this
great critic and linguist was Karl Lachmann, who had previously worked on the
Nibelungenlied: he propounded the ‘lays’ theory, the Iliad, on this view, being
made up of some sixteen separate poems. Learned criticism here went hand in
hand with romantic notions of the ‘national spirit’ at work in poetry, causing
the gradual organic growth of the epic. Victor Hehn’s lecture on Homer! gave
exaggerated expression to this view. The ‘lay’ theory was made less tenable as
Germanist scholars? stressed the difference between lays and epic episodes. In
consequence an attempt was made to separate out as constituents of the Iliad not
lays, but small-scale epics of varying extent and merit — the ‘compilation’
theory. This conception grew out of the analysis of the Odyssey in the hands of
such men as A. Kirchhoff; but in course of time it became the fashionable
theory for the Iliad as well. It became fused with the expansion theory, accord-
ing as one took this, that or the other epyllion as the kernel round which the
others accrued.
As regards the critical tools employed by the analysts, it must be admitted
that some turned in the operators’ hands. Logical inconsistencies became less and
less cogent as the unitarians were able to point to many such discrepancies in
modern literary works whose unitary authorship no one denies. Attempts to
achieve a satisfactory dismemberment on the basis of linguistic and cultural
levels entirely failed, for reasons which we shall see in the relevant sections. All
that remained was stylistic differences; and the danger of subjectivity in using
such criteria cannot be overemphasized. This is not to say that such differences
do not exist, only that their interpretation is a problem in itself.
The situation had become one to which Goethe’s rather over-confident
words in his Annals in 1821 now fully applied: “It would need a revolution in
all our notions of the world to set the old views on their feet again.’ It was not
until after the first world war that growing dissatisfaction with experiments in
analysis made it possible again to regard the Homeric epics as a unity.3 The time
was ripe for the Iliasstudien of Wolfgang Schadewaldt (Leipzig 1938), in which
the old types of analysis were given some very hard knocks.* From the very
beginning the unitarians had defended the general unity of the Iliad’s plot: now
the structure of the poem was defended in detail. A study rivalling in minute-
ness those of the analysts sought to establish numerous correlations, references
und Homer. Berlin 1916. £. BETHE, Homer. I. Leipzig 1914; 2. 2nd ed. 1929; 3, 1927.
BE. SCHWARTZ, Zur Entstehung der Ilias. Schr. d. Strassb. wiss. Ges. 34, 1918. See also under
Odyssey.
' K, DEICHGRABER, Aus Victor Hehns Nachlass. Akad. Mainz. Geistes- u. sozialwiss. Kl.
1951/9, 814.
2 4. HEUSLER, Lied und Epos in der germ. Sagendichtung. Dortmund 1905.
3 Cc. M. BowRA, Tradition and Design in the Iliad. Oxf. 1930.
4 Von Homers Welt und Werk, by the same author.
35
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

back and forth, economy of narrative or deliberate slowing up of the action, as

indications of the conscious design of a single creative artist. This artist may be
our old Homer again, although Schadewaldt supposes as the author of our
Iliad not an individual creating the whole scheme according to his fancy, but a
man using a rich stock of precedents and a tradition going far back into antiquity.
As Willy Theiler expressed it in the Festschrift fiir Tiéche (1947), for a long
time it seemed as if ‘the enormous influence of Schadewaldt’s book in Germany
had brought a century and a half of analytical scholarship down in ruins’. But
appearances were deceptive: in late years Homeric analysis has vigorously
claimed attention in almost all the old forms.!
If we want to see at all clearly in this perplexing battlefield, we have first to
dismiss some obsolete and mistaken notions. In one isolated passage (c. Apion.
1. 12) Josephus remarks that Homer left nothing in writing. For Wolf it became
a central thesis that the poet could not write. The view is no longer tenable
since our discovery of the early use of writing in Greece (p. 20). Of course the
questions whether Homer could write and whether he did must be kept distinct.
For Josephus and Wolf the Homeric poems were not put together until a
late date; and ancient references to the Pisistratean recension seem to state this
expressly.? But the statements are late and probably reflect guesswork in anti-
quity. Authors such as Dieuchidas of Megara3 (ap. Diog. Laert. 1. 57) may
speak of interpolations made in the Homeric text by Pisistratus, but this is quite
another thing. The same Dieuchidas speaks of a decree of Solon’s (some ascribe
it to Hipparchus) which presupposes the existence of a definite text of Homer:

™ An expansion theory, for example, is defended by Pp. MAZON in his useful Introduction a
’Iliade. Paris 1942. W. THEILER, ‘Die Dichter der Ilias’. Festschrift f.E. Tiéche. Berne 1947,
125; ‘Noch einmal die Dichter der Ilias’. Thesaurismata. Festschr. I. Kapp. Munich 1954,
118, supposes an original Iliad overlaid with various additional strata. JACHMANN (op. cit.
p- 33, n. 3) applies the lay theory particularly to the battle scenes. P. VON DER MUHLL,
Kritisches Hypomnema zur Ilias. Schweiz. Beitr. z. Altertumswiss. 4, Basel 1952, distinguishes
an original menis-cycle composed by Homer from later additions; cf. J. rH. KAKRIDIS, Gnomt.
28, 1956, 401. More recently W. H. FRIEDRICH, Verwundung und Tod in der Ilias. Abh. Ak.
Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 3. Folge, 38, 1956, has drawn analytical conclusions from his study of
the material. D. 1. PAGE’s book History and the Homeric Iliad (v. p. 38, n. 1) has an appendix
Multiple Authorship in the Iliad, in which the analysts’ case is supported from the embassy
and the building of the wall. An extreme view is taken by G. JACHMANN (v. D:193..063)5
who reckons the compiler of our Iliad to be a clumsy botcher: on this see J. TH. KAKRIDIS,
Gnom. 32, 1960, 393. The almost simultaneous appearance of two important discussions of
the problem brings out clearly the unbridgeable gulf between the opposing positions. w.
THEILER’S article ‘Ilias und Odyssee in der Verflechtung ihres Entstehens’. Mus. Helv. 19,
1962, I, lives up to its title, and is full of confidence in what analysis can do. The unselfish
labour of uvo HGtscueER has put into our hands K. REINHARDT’s book ‘Die Ilias und ihr
Dichter’. Gottingen 1961, carefully put together from the unfinished manuscript. The title
is no less challenging than THEILER’s. We can do no more than refer in general terms to this
study as the most determined unitarian defence of the Iliad since sCcHADEWALDT’S Ilias-
studien of 1938 and an attempt to reconcile all the different aspects of the epic within the
conception of an individual Homer.
* R. MERKELBACH, *Die pisistratische Redaktion’. Rhein. Mus. 95, 1952, 23, tries to estab-
lish its historicity. J. A. DAVISON, ‘Peisistratus and Homer’. TAPhA 86, LOS Sani
3 J. A. DAVISON, *Dieuchidas of Megara’. Class. Quart. 53, 1959, 216.
36
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

viz. that at the four-yearly Panathenaea the rhapsodes should recite the epics
of Homer in order, one taking up where another left off.
The notions of an illiterate Homer and a Pisistratean recension have long been
given up. Their place has been taken, behind all the modern theories of con-
tamination, interpolation and patchwork, by other notions scarcely less question-
able. Anyone who takes up Wilamowitz’s Die Ilias und Homer (Berlin 1916) and
reads the last pages, expounding such a complex theory of the origin of the Iliad,
will be unable to conceive of such a bewildering chain of events without presup-
posing the wide use of writing. One has not merely to assume that the author of
the Iliad was literate, but that he operated with books as his basis, excerpting,
adapting and pasting together. We have now come to the point where we must
bring to bear on this whole mass of problems the light shed by comparative liter-
ary studies from Murko to Parry. How the great epic itself was composed is
still hard to say, but at least we have a clear idea of what must have gone before.
Certainly we have to postulate many centuries of epic poetry before Homer,
and we must think of this poetry as ‘oral composition’ of the type whose
techniques we have outlined above.! We now have a clearer idea of the broad
mass of material on which Homeric poetry is based; and our new knowledge
does nothing to support the conception of written earlier forms rehandled by
compilers. The form in which we have to put the Homeric question today is,
‘What is the connection between the epics as we have them and oral composi-
tion?’ A few moments’ consideration of the techniques of oral composition will
show that they are all present in the Iliad and Odyssey. The most striking
technical feature — the use of repetitive formulae — is particularly strongly
marked in Homer. Difficulties of metre may be partly responsible.
How shall we answer this question? Shall we say that the Homeric poems
belong solidly in this context of poetry orally conceived and orally transmitted?
Some of Parry’s school seem inclined to draw this conclusion. Pure oral poetry,
however, is never repeated twice in the same form?: thus they have to explain
the fixity of the text by supposing that an oral performance gained such striking
success that an immediate transcript was made. This is a new approach and a
dangerous one, leading to the misinterpretation of great poetry.
Admittedly the length of the Iliad is no argument against this view. Among
oral heroic poems we find such examples as the epic of Avdo Mededovié with
more than 12,000 verses. We can do better by looking at the plot of the Iliad.
There is indeed a parallel here also from south Slavic poetry, but the differences
are so great that we are justified in thinking that the poet of the Iliad could write.
The decisive arguments for this view are drawn from the many cross-references,
often widely separated, which modern scholars have pointed out.
© See p. 16 f.
z SSgep ah of STERLING DOW (Class. Weekly 49, 1956, 197) ‘ Verbatim oral transmission
of apoem composed orally and not written down is unknown’ has been challenged recently
by G. Ss. KIRK, ‘Homer and Modern Oral Poetry: Some Confusions’. Class. Quart. 54, 1960,
271. From observations of contemporary oral epic on its own ground he concludes that faithful
transmission is possible. But even if this were applicable to the Iliad and Odyssey, the burning
question would still be whether they could possibly have been orally conceived.
37
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

In our summary of the Iliad we spoke of the pronouncements of Zeus in

books 8, 11 and 15, each more explicit than the last; the threefold warning of
Polydamas (books 12, 13 and 18); finally of the dexterous management through-
out the poem of those passages which foretell the fall of Troy and the death of
Achilles. A few further examples may not be out of place, since some scholars
have roundly denied the existence of any such deliberate planning and cross-
referring in the design of the Iliad. In 17. 24 Menelaus refers to the death of
Hyperenor, which happened three books earlier (14. 516). Contrariwise 2. 860
gives us an anticipation of Achilles’ fury beside the Scamander in book 21. In
the Catalogue of Ships, while speaking of Pandarus, the poet dwells on his
wonderful bow, which is to figure so fatally in the breaking of the truce in
book 4. Even the repetition of verses is made artistically effective, as in the two
prayers of Chryses (1. 37, 451), or in the verses 11. 357 sq. and 18. 35 sq., which
underline a correspondence between the scenes in the two books — a parallel
referred to by Thetis herself (17. 74). When Hector issues the challenge to single
combat (7. 77), he stipulates that his body be returned in the event of his death
—a pregnant allusion to what followed his defeat in the end. Likewise Achilles’
pious care for the body of Eetion (related, oddly enough, by Andromache in
6. 417) serves as the foil to his rage against the dead Hector. We must admire
the skill in composition which in 2. 780, after the long and static description of
the forces, takes up again the beautiful simile which had been used before the
Catalogue (2. 455) to describe the army’s advance. There is a good example of
a deliberate variation of emphasis in the teichoscopia of book 3. Helen names the
principal heroes, Agamemnon, Odysseus, Ajax and Idomeneus, but not Dio-
mede who plays so prominent a role in the following books. He is not described
until the fourth book, where the characterization forms the culmination of the
epipolesis, Agamemnon’s review of his forces. Conversely, in her laments over
the dead Hector (22. 447; 24. 725) Andromache never dwells on the lot that
awaits her: the theme has already been unforgettably touched on by Hector in
6. 450. K. Reinhardt (see p. 29, n. 1) has pointed out that the absence of an
element of contest in the scenes on the shield of Achilles shows unwillingness
to anticipate the funeral games in book 23.
Much more might be said, but the foregoing is enough to support the view
that the poem was constructed with the help of writing. Such delicate touches
as the variation in sequence from Achilles, Ajax, Odysseus (1. 138) to Ajax,
(Idomeneus,) Odysseus, Achilles (1. 145) in Agamemnon’s speech — the first
time alluding to the taking away of the gift, the second to the important task of
restoring Chryseis; or the different ways in which Priam and Antenor address
Helen — Priam calls her ‘little daughter’ (3. 162), while Antenor, who later
urges that she be given up, addresses her as ‘woman’ (3. 204) — such attention
to detail is only conceivable in a poet familiar with writing. A. B. Lord! suggests

' “Homer’s Originality: Oral Dictated Texts’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 84, 1953, 124, and
The Singer of Tales (v. p. 16, n. 2). The view here espoused is supported in detail in my
“Miindlichkeit und Schriftlichkeit im hom. Epos.’ Festchr. Kralik. Horn 1954, 1, and is
adopted essentially by PER KRARUP, ‘Homer and the Art of Writing’. Eranos 54, 1956, 28
38
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

a halfway house - a Homer who dictated his poems. We do find today singers
in Greece and Yugoslavia who sometimes allow their poems to be thus recorded.
But while there is nothing against such a supposition in Homer’s case, equally
there is nothing for it. In any case, Madvig’s words! remain valid: ‘utrumque
poetam . . . scribendi arte atque auxilio usum esse persuasum habeo’. We must
admit one thing: we have no notion what an eighth-century manuscript of
Homer would have looked like. This is not an argument against our theory:
Wwe are simply recognizing the limits of our knowledge.
To sum up: Homer is at once a beginning and a fulfilment, and many incon-
sistencies in the poems are thus to be explained. The roots of his creative work
lie deep in the old soil of oral epic, and he uses many of the older techniques.
Such was his source, and we must suppose that a very great bulk of this oral
epic was available for his use. If we suppose such a process as this, we shall not
be surprised any longer at numerous contradictions, and we shall see why it is
that large parts of the poem are in the old simple narrative form. Examples of
the old heroic style are particularly common in the endless descriptions of
combat, with their long lists of names. But what Homer owed to this early
poetry cannot be reckoned exactly. No one can doubt that he used much
material that lay to hand: here could be common ground between unitarians
and the more moderate analysts. To justify this hope at all, we must part
company with simple-minded unitarians who imagine Homer creating in a
vacuum and with those analysts who show no understanding of the nature and
laws of the genre, and who ply their scalpels in an endless vivisection of the
living body of the Iliad.
While we look at what Homer inherited, we must not forget what he
created. We cannot say for certain that the Iliad was the first great written epic.
Parry and Lord have shown us that epics of considerable compass occur in oral
poetry. What is certain is that the Iliad and Odyssey owed their preservation and
their immeasurable influence to their possessing those qualities in which Greek
epic reaches its consummation - or rather transcends the limits of its form; that
is to say, the dramatic handling of the incidents (of which we spoke when dis-
cussing the plot) and above all the humanizing of the old heroic saga: it is this
which wins Homer a place in our hearts. The scene in which Priam and Achilles,
after all the pangs of battle, all the grief and cruelty of unmeasured vengeance,
learn to understand and respect each other as men, is at once the culmination of
the Iliad and the starting-point of the western conception of humanity.

and c. M. BowRA, Homer and his Forerunners. Edinburgh 1955. Both these scholars consider
dictation as a possibility, as does c. H. WHITMAN, Homer and the Heroic Tradition. Harv.
Univ. Press, Cambr. Mass. 1958, 82, despite the stress which he lays on the poems’ being
essentially oral composition. The use of writing in their composition is vigorously asserted
by H. T. WADE-GERY, The Poet of the Iliad. Cambr. 1952: he thinks (p. 11) that the adaptation
of the Semitic alphabet was occasioned by the needs of poetry. See also T. B. L. WEBSTER,
From Mycenae to Homer. London 1958, 272. D. L. PAGE, The Homeric Odyssey. Oxf. 1955, 140
is more reserved. Further references in K. Marét, Die Anfange der griech. Literatur. Budapest
1960, 314, n. I21.
1 Adversaria Critica 3, 1884, 4.
39
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Two factors contributed to the success of what was new in the Iliad: the
transition from the lyre-playing aoidos to the rhapsode with his staff, and that
from orally composed heroic lays to poetry conceived as writing. We cannot
say how long before Homer these two things happened: the latter most likely
came in with Homer himself.
It should be added that the view here outlined does not exclude the possibility
of later insertions. We no longer reckon among these the Catalogue of Ships,?
but follow Dieuchidas and many modern writers in supposing Attic interpola-
tions (e.g. 2. 558). The tenth book, containing the Doloneia,? is so unconnected
with the main narrative that it serves by contrast to emphasize the unity of the
rest, and suggests a late interpolation.
Now that we can once again think of the poet of the Iliad as an historical
person, and take ‘Homer’ as a proper name, not as a description (=‘hostage’),
we cannot help wishing to know something of his life. He must have been a
rhapsode, and as such would have seen something of the world — not as the
poor schoolmaster and wandering singer of legend, but in close association with
the princely courts of his day. The treatment which he gives to Aeneas (esp.
20. 307) and Glaucus suggests that he was attached to the Aeneadae of the
Troad and the Glaucidae of Lycia.* We are in no position to settle the conflict

I vy. BURR, Ne@v xaradoyos. Klio Beih. 39, 1944; see A. HEUBECK in Gnom. 21, 1949, 1973
29, 1957, 40; 33, 1961, 116. He denies any historical Mycenaean background, and in the last-
named review especially assails D. L. PAGE, History and the Homeric Iliad (v. p. 20, n. 1) 118,
who shares with WEBSTER, From Mycenae to Homer (v. p. 18, n. 1) 132 and 175 the view
that the Catalogue of Ships might go back to Mycenaean times. At the other extreme c.
JACHMANN (v. p. 34, n. 1) reckons it as a late interpolation. Further bibliography in
HEUBECK, Gyinn. 66, 1959, 397.
2 HEUSINGER, Stilistische Untersuchungen zur Dolonie. Leipz. 1939. F. KLINGNER, ‘Uber die
Dolonie’. Herm. 75, 1940, 337. This view 1s critically examined by F. DORNSEIEF, ‘Doloneia’.
Meél. Grégoire. Ann. de (Institut de phil. et @hist. Or. et Slav. 10, 1950, 239. W. JENS, ‘Die
Dolonie und ihre Dichter’. Studium Generale 8, 1955, 616. S. LASER, ‘Uber das Verhiltnis
der Dolonie zur Odyssee’. Herm. 86, 1958, 385. K. REINHARDT, Tradition und Geist. Gott.
1960, 9.
3 There are seven ancient biographies, all of imperial times, but possibly going back to an
older tradition. Text: WILAMOWITZ, Vitae Homeri et Hesiodi. Bonn 1916; T. W. ALLEN in the
fifth vol. of his Oxford text: both also give the ‘Contest of Homer and Hesiod’ (Aydy
“Ounpou Kai “Hovddov), which is equally an imperial redaction of an earlier narrative. On
the literary genre see L. RADERMACHER, Aristophanes’ Frésche. 2nd ed, Sitzb. Oest. Ak. Phil.-
hist. Kl. 198/4, 1954, 29. E. voctT, “Die Schrift vom Wettkampf Homers und Hesiods’.
Rhein. Mus. 102, 1959, 193. K. HESS, Der Agon zwischen Homer und Herod. Winterthur 1960
(cf. BE. vocT, Gnom. 33, 1961, 697). On Proclus’ Life: a. sEVERYNS, Recherches sur la
Chrestomathie de Proclos, III. Paris 1953. Germ. transl. of the pseudo-Herod. Vita and the
Certamen in W. SCHADEWALDT, Legende von Homer dem fahrenden Sanger. Leipz. 1942. On the
life of Homer and the activities of the Homeridae see H. T. WADE-GERY, The Poet of the
Iliad. Cambr. 1952. Some questions concerning the person and personality of Homer are dis-
cussed in an important article in Herm. 68, 1933, 1 by F. JACOBY, who returns to the subject
in F Gr Hist Ib (comm.) 2 (notes), 407. On the name see M. DURANTE. ‘Il nome di
Omero’. Acc. dei Lincei. Rendiconti d. Cl. di Sc. mor. stor. fil. 8, 12, 1957, 94. On portraits of
Homer: BOEHRINGER, Homer. Bildnisse und Nachweise. Breslau 1939. On such portraits we
may mention once for all K. sCHEFOLD, Die Bildnisse der antiken Dichter, Redner und Denker.
Basel 1943. 4 L. MALTEN, Herm. 79, 1944, I.
40
 LHE HOMERIC EPIC

of the seven cities (Anth. Pal. 16. 295 sqq.) about his birthplace. Smyrna seems
to have had a strong claim, which suggests origins in Ionia or Asia Minor. That
he was originally called Melesigenes seems doubtful; but his long residence in
Chios and death on the island of Ios may well be historical. If he used writing
in composition, we have to reject his blindness as a stereotyped myth-motiv.
The period of his creative activity must be reckoned as the eighth century,
which has been well styled ‘the century of Homer’.! The relation between
Homeric epic and Hesiod gives us a lower limit, while an upper limit is fixed
by the use of writing and by archaeological arguments drawn from the poet’s
knowledge of temples and cult images.

4 THE ODYSSEY: MATERIALS AND COMPOSITION

Many things that distinguish the Odyssey from the Iliad arise from the nature and
origins of its subject matter.? This falls at once into two classes. We find quite
widely spread a folktale, not necessarily having any supernatural element, on
these lines: a man who has been on a far journey for a long time and is given
up for dead, finds on his return his wife beset by suitors: often the wedding
date is already fixed. He is recognized, fights and comes into his own again.3
The name Penelope was variously and unsatisfactorily explained in antiquity. Paul
Kretschmer derives it from avy, myviov ‘bobbin-thread, woof’, and éAoz- as
found in 6Admrw ‘unravel’. If this is right, then Penelope took her name from the
trick by which she deceived the suitors, unravelling in the night what she had
woven in the day. In this case the word wyvéAox# for the common wild duck must
be taken from the heroine’s name, and conferred on the bird for its supposed
monogamous habits. Ancient etymologists went astray by supposing the contrary.
The second element in the Odyssey is travellers’ tales, which must have been
many and varied in the second millennium B.c. while Crete was a great sea
power. An Egyptian tale from about 2000 B.c.4 contains such striking anticipa-
tions of the Odyssey as a shipwreck in which the hero, as sole survivor, floats
ashore on a piece of timber onto an island full of marvels. Such stories have a
way of building up into a whole cycle centering round some particular personage
—a Sinbad or an Odysseus. The name Odysseus defies Indo-European derivation:
outside Homer it occurs as Olysseus. The peculiar epic form may come from
an attempt to make it more Greek: cf. Od. 19. 406. The facts suggest that
Odysseus figured even in the pre-Greek world as the hero of fabulous adventures
by sea. The view constantly advanced which makes him into an ancient divinity,
usually a sun-god, cannot be made good.

! w.SCHADEWALDT, ‘Homer und sein Jahrhundert’. Von Homers Welt und Werk. and ed.
Stuttg. 1951, 87.
2 1, RADERMACHER, ‘Die Erzahlungen der Odyssee’. Sitzb. Akad. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl.
178/I, 1915. K. MEULI, Odyssee und Argonautika. Berl. 1921. P. KRETSCHMER, ‘Penelope’.
Anz. Akad. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1945, 80. GABRIEL GERMAIN, Genese de I’Odyssée. Paris 1954.
L. A. STELLA, II poema di Ulisse. Florence 1955. F. WEHRLI, ‘Penelope und Telemachos’. Mus.
Helv. 16. 1959, 228.
3 Ww. SPLETSTOSSER, Der heimkehrende Gatte und sein Weib in der Weltliteratur. Berl. 1899.
4 RADERMACHER, Op. cit. 38.
41
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The story of the homecoming must have been tied up from the beginning
with tales of adventures which kept the hero so long from hearth and home. In
the Mediterranean world these tales would have been predominantly of adven-
ture by sea, so that the hero was ideally cast for the role of the long-lost wan-
derer returning.
Both these classes of material are a long way from the aristocratic world of
the Iliad. If we consider the Odyssey as the later work — later in composition, of
course, not in material — we must admit a certain shifting of the audience to
whom it is addressed. Goethe made this point well in the first Epistle:
.. und klinget nicht immer im hohen Palaste,
In des Kéniges Zelt, die Ilias herrlich dem Helden?
Hort nicht aber dagegen Ulysseus wandernde Klugheit
Auf dem Markte sich besser, da wo sich der Biirger versammelt?’
But all these differences cannot obscure the fact that the Iliad and Odyssey
belong to the same genre. There is an important addition which we must make
to our sketch of the basic subject matter of the later epic: the hero of the “home-
coming’ story is not only made identical with him of the sea adventures, but he
is also brought into the sphere of the Trojan saga. Odysseus becomes one of
those who fought before Troy — and indeed one of the foremost, as the Iliad
tells us. Yet amidst the world that there surrounds him he still keeps many of
his old characteristics. The epithet of ‘long-suffering’ is applied to him in the
Iliad also, where he is sharply contrasted with Achilles: patient subtlety against
noble rage, supple compromise against angry intransigence, the calm appraisal
of the best route against the headlong following of the most direct. It is signifi-
cant that in the ninth book of the Iliad it is Odysseus, of all the three ambassadors,
who least succeeds in establishing contact with Achilles. The two men personify
the contrasting elements that went into the history of the Greek nation.
To these three ingredients — novel of homecoming, novel of sea adventure,
saga of Troy — we must add a fourth: the spirit and standpoint of a new age,
which, without destroying the old one, yet looked at it in many ways through
very different eyes. We shall have something to say on this score when we dis-
cuss men and gods in Homer: here it must be enough to point out the large
part which the rising tide of Ionian ways of thought played in the innovations
of the Odyssey.
The geographical element in the Odyssey demands a word.! Eratosthenes (ap.
Strab. 1. 23c) hit the nail on the head. Hesiod, he says, placed Odysseus’ wander-
ings in the general area of Italy and Sicily, but Homer had no thought of either
of these or of any other real place. This view has been received very unwillingly
both in antiquity and in modern times. Obstinate attempts to trace Odysseus’
‘A. LESKY, ‘Aia’. Wien. Stud. 63, 1948, 52. V. BERARD, Les Navigations d’ Ulysse, 4 vols.
Paris 1927-29 (and other works), tries to place Odysseus’ wanderings in the western Medi-
terranean: R. HENNIG, Die Geographie des homerischen Epos, Leipz. 1934, favours the ‘ex-
oceanist’ school. For wider aspects of the question see A. KLOTZ, ‘Die Irrfahrten des Odysseus
und ihre Deutung im Altertum’. Gymn. 59, 1952, 289. For some similar discussions cf.
AfdA 13, 1960, 20.
42
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
wanderings on a map were dismissed by Eratosthenes with the ironical suggestion
that such researchers should first find who the cobbler was who made Acolus
his leather bag for keeping winds in. The Hellenistic period saw schools of
thought which placed these wanderings in the Mediterranean, and others which
placed them in the Atlantic. This idle enquiry has been taken up in modern
studies, which will no doubt reach results as satisfactory as those of the Atlantis-
seekers. The truth is that the adventures of Odysseus take place in a fairytale
land, far outside the boundaries of the world as it was known when the story
was first told.
The poet tells us clearly enough when we cross from the real world into
fairyland: we shall note the passages in the summary which follows. Some indi-
cations, as we shall see, point to the far west, while on the isle of Circe we are
suddenly in the east. The island is said to belong to Aca: Aea is that far-eastern
land on the borders of the stream of Ocean which was the fabled goal of the
Argonauts before the Black Sea was opened up and Colchis became known.
Here we meet the fact which has been made clear by the researches of Karl
Meuli — that large parts of the Odyssey are modelled on an old poem, now lost,
of the journey of the Argonauts to Aeetes, the ruler of Aea. Circe’s allusion to
this poem (11. 70) can then be taken as a valuable datum for literary history.
The following sketch will deal in greater detail with the articulation of the
poem and will go into individual points more deeply than our sketch of the
Iliad did.
The poem begins with Odysseus on the island of Calypso, the furthest point
of his wanderings. Until he shall arrive home, Poseidon remains implacable
towards him; but at the moment the god has gone to the land of the Ethiopians,
while the other Olympians are assembled in the palace of Zeus. The latter
inveighs against the criminal folly of mankind, his text being Orestes’ recent
revenge upon Aegisthus. This act of violence serves to contrast the character of
Telemachus — a contrast which is kept in view in the early books (3. 306; 4. 546).
Athene wins the permission of Zeus, notwithstanding Poseidon’s resentment,
to help Odysseus in his return, and asks to have Hermes sent to Calypso on
Ogygia. She herself visits Telemachus in Ithaca, taking on the form of Mentes,
king of the Taphians. In a long conversation with him she discusses his present
position — his father missing and the suitors revelling in the house. She gives
him two pieces of advice: to demand before the assembled people of Ithaca an
end to this persecution, and to seek out old comrades of his father’s and enquire
after his fate. On Athene’s departure Telemachus realizes that he has been
speaking with a goddess, and his words to his mother and to the suitors show
that from this moment on he is facing his problems in a new frame of mind.
(x)
The next day he forcibly presents his views in the assembly. He quarrels, of
course, with Antinous and Eurymachus, who derides the idea of a divine
warning (Aegisthus, we remember, had been warned by the gods). It becomes
clear that the suitors hold the upper hand. Telemachus’ request for a ship is not
even considered, and Leocritus dismisses the assembly with arrogant contempt.
43
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Athene takes the form of Mentor, and leads Telemachus to a ship, on which
he embarks by night. (2)
On the shores of Pylos the voyagers find Nestor sacrificing to Poseidon. He
receives Telemachus hospitably, and is able to tell him what befell many of the
heroes returning from Troy. Of Odysseus, however, he can tell nothing. In the
evening Athene departs in the form of an eagle. Next morning Telemachus
sets out for Sparta with Nestor’s son Pisistratus. They arrive on the evening of
the next day. (3)
They find Menelaus celebrating the weddings of his son and his daughter.
He and Helen relate Odysseus’ deeds before Troy and in the city itself.1 Next
morning Telemachus asks after his father’s fate, and hears of the adventures of
Menelaus on his way home. Among these is a meeting with Proteus, the old
man of the sea, who tells him of the deaths of the Locrian Ajax and of Aga-
memnon, and finally informs him of Odysseus’ sojourn on the island of Calypso.
In Sparta a banquet is prepared: in Ithaca the suitors are planning the murder of
Telemachus on his return. Penelope hears of the plot, but Athene comforts her
by a dream-vision. (4)
The gods take counsel again, and again Athene complains of Odysseus’ hard-
ships. Zeus now sends Hermes as messenger (as suggested before by Athene) to
tell Calypso what the gods intend. The nymph unwillingly tells Odysseus to
build a raft, and lets him go his homeward way. On the eighteenth day, when
he is near Scheria, he is seen by Poseidon (now returning from the Ethiopians),
who sends a storm and shatters the raft. Leucothea’s veil protects Odysseus, and
on the third day after the shipwreck he reaches the shore of Scheria, where he
sinks into a deep sleep. (s)
A dream sent by Athene causes the king’s daughter Nausicaa to go with her
maidens to the shore, where they play and wash clothes. Odysseus wakes up,
and the girls flee in terror. Nausicaa, however, helps him to wash and clothe him-
self, and takes him to the grove of Athene before the city. (6)
Under cover of a cloud which Athene wraps round him, Odysseus passes
through the streets of the Phaeacians and enters the palace. As he clasps the knees
of the queen, Arete, the cloud disperses, and Alcinous bids him welcome. When
the nobles have left, Arete, who recognizes the clothes, asks Odysseus how he
came by them and where he has come from. He relates his misfortunes since
leaving Calypso, and obtains from Alcinous the promise to send him home the
next day. (7)
But the next day does not bring the desired consummation. Alcinous orders
preparations to be made, but in the meantime there is a banquet, at which
Demodocus sings of Achilles and Odysseus. Odysseus hides his face, and the
king gives the word for games, in which Odysseus humbles the braggart
Euryalus. Next follows Demodocus’ lay of the loves of Ares and Aphrodite, and
the revenge of the injured Hephaestus. In the evening Demodocus sings of the
wooden horse: Odysseus weeps, and Alcinous asks him his name and history. (8)
™ On the contradictory role of Helen in these stories see J. T. KAKRIDIS, ‘Helena und
Odysseus’. Serta Philologica Aenipontana. Innsbr. 1961, 27.
44
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
Odysseus now declares himself and tells his tale. After the fall of Troy he
destroyed Ismarus, but had to flee after suffering heavy losses through attacks
from the Cicones (we are still in the quasi-historical world of the Iliad, where
the Cicones feature in the Catalogue of Ships). A storm compels him and his
companions to land and rest for two days; then they try to round Malea. A
frightful storm from the north scatters the fleet and drives them for nine days
over the waves (the figure of nine days indicates a long interval, sufficient to
pass over into fairyland). On the tenth day they land among the Lotus-eaters,
and the magical powers of the plant almost make them forget their homeland.
Next they come to an island off the shore of the Cyclopes’ land. (This island is
important in the plot: Odysseus still commands a fleet, although only a small
force is dramatically necessary for the adventure with Polyphemus.) Odysseus
approaches the mainland with one ship only, loses many of his comrades
in the monster's den, but wins in the end through his cunning in making
Polyphemus drunk and giving his own name as Noman. The blinded Cyclops
calls down the wrath of his father Poseidon upon Odysseus. (9)
Aeolus sends a favourable west wind, which wafts Odysseus towards his
home. (The scene of action is therefore the far west.) After a nine-days’ journey
(the same period of transition to bring him back to the real world) the comrades
of Odysseus untie the bag of winds which Aeolus gave him. The unchained
tempests drive them back to Aeolus, who sees that Odysseus has incurred some
god’s displeasure, and withdraws his favour. Six days bring them to the land of
the Laestrygones, a land of short nights. (We are in fairyland again, despite the
spring Artacia which reappears at Cyzicus.) In a little bay they are attacked by
the gigantic Laestrygones: all the other ships are lost, and that of Odysseus alone
sails on to the island belonging to the land called Aea. Here Eos has his home
and his dancing-floor; here also Helius has his rising (12. 3: we are therefore in
the farthest east). The island is the home of Circe, who turns an advanced recon-
noitring party into swine. By the help of Hermes and the magical herb moly
Odysseus rescues his comrades and lives for a year with Circe. When he asks
to return home. she sends him first to the land of the dead. (10)
One day’s sailing takes them to the far shore of Ocean, the land of the
Cimmerians,! who live in perpetual darkness. Blood is poured into a hole in the
ground, and the shades gather round it: Elpenor, who met his fate on Circe’s
island, Odysseus’ mother, the seer Tiresias, who prophesies the difficulties of the
hero’s homecoming, his trials on account of the Sungod’s oxen, his victory over
the suitors and his death in a distant land. Next comes a catalogue of heroines,
conversation with Agamemnon and Achilles, a show of dead heroes and great
sinners. The return journey over the Ocean is uneventful. There is a kind of
intermezzo between the catalogue of women and the interview with Aga-
memnon. Odysseus tries to break off his narrative, and tactfully reminds his
hearers of the promise (7. 317) to convey him to Ithaca. They prevail on him
I p. VON DER MUHLL, ‘Die Kimmerier der Odyssee und Theopomp’. Mus. Helv. 16, 1959,
145, takes 11. 14-19 as referring to the historical Cimmerii, and therefore dates the passage
late. But it is possible that Homer’s Cimmerii are a people of pure fable.
Cc 45
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

to continue his story, and Alcinous gives a firm undertaking to send him home
next day. (11) ;
After Circe’s island, the sequence of adventures takes us past the Sirens,
through Scylla and Charybdis to Thrinacia and the oxen of Helius. Odysseus
comrades, pinned down by adverse «winds and tormented with hunger, lay
hands on the cattle, and in the next stage of their voyage run into a storm sent
by Zeus at Helius’ request. Odysseus clings to the mast, barely escapes Charybdis,
whither he is driven by a south wind, and is carried by the waves for nine days
until he lands on Ogygia, Calypso’s island. (Once again Odysseus is nine days
in the immensity of the seas (cf. 5. 100), while the return from Ogygia takes
eighteen days. On this voyage he has the north star on his left (5. 272), so that
Ogygia must lie in the extreme west. How Odysseus came here from the
Acaean island in the east is never related. Clearly adventures in the east, drawn
from the saga of the Argonauts, have been thrust in among those depicted in
the west.) (12)
Odysseus is sent off with gifts by the Phaeacians, and brought during the next
night, by a miraculous voyage, to Ithaca. Poseidon turns the returning vessel to
stone. Odysseus wakes in a cloud, and does not know his native land until he is
informed by Athene in the guise of a young shepherd. She reveals her identity,
and man and goddess join in hiding the gifts of the Phaeacians. They plan their
tactics against the suitors, and Athene gives the hero the appearance of an old
beggar. (13)
Odysseus next seeks out the swineherd Eumaeus, to whom he introduces
himself with a long and imaginary story of his sufferings. He is given food and
a blanket for the night. (14)
Athene urges Telemachus, who is still in Sparta, to return home. On his return
journey he picks up at Pylos the seer Theoclymenus, who has had to flee Argos.
By Athene’s guidance Telemachus avoids the plot of the suitors. Meanwhile in
Eumaeus’ cottage Odysseus hears of his father Laertes, and the swineherd tells
of his own life. Next dawn Telemachus lands and comes to Eumaeus. (15)
The swineherd goes to acquaint Penelope with her son’s return. Odysseus
reveals himself in his true shape (restored by Athene) to Telemachus, and they
plan the punishment of the suitors. The latter plot a new attack on Telemachus.
Eumaeus returns to the cottage. (16)
In the morning Telemachus goes to the city first, then Eumaeus with
Odysseus, who is again the old beggar. Telemachus greets his mother, and
Theoclymenus prophesies that Odysseus is already in the country. As Odysseus
approaches the city, he is met by the goatherd Melanthius, who insults and ill-
treats him: but before the palace Odysseus is recognized by his old dog Argus,
now on the point of death. He begs from the suitors, Antinous throws a stool
at him, hitting his right shoulder.t Eumaeus obtains an interview for the beggar
with Penelope that evening, and returns to his cottage. (17)
In a fist-fight Odysseus vanquishes the impudent beggar Irus, and warns
" H. REYNEN, ‘Schmahrede und Schemelwurf im p und o der Odyssee’. Herm.
85, 1957,
129, takes a rather different view from that expressed in the next section.

46
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
Amphinomus, the least arrogant of the suitors. Penelope shows herself to the
men in the hall, makes clear her readiness to wed again, and thus receives rich
gifts. Odysseus is treated with scorn by the serving girl Melantho; Eurymachus
hurls a stool at him, but hits the cupbearer. (18)
Odysseus and Telemachus remove all weapons from the hall while Athene
holds a lamp for them." Penelope enters, and Odysseus prepares her for his
return by some invented narratives. As his feet are being washed, the old nurse
Euryclea recognizes him from a scar: her silence and co-operation are obtained.
Penelope relates a dream portending the punishment of the suitors, and talks of
her decision to hold a contest in archery next day, the winner receiving her
hand. (19)
Full of resentment against the servant girls who have been lying with the
suitors, and anxious about coming events, Odysseus is consoled by Athene, and
sleeps awhile in an anteroom. On waking he is heartened by good omens.
Euryclea and the serving girls prepare for the banquet on the day sacred to
Apollo. Eumaeus and Melanthius arrive, together with the faithful oxherd
Philoetius. A bird of omen sent by Zeus deters the suitors from their plan to kill
Telemachus. At the feast Ctesippus throws a cow-heel at Odysseus, but it only
strikes the wall. The foolish laughter of the suitors and the prophecies of Theo-
clymenus prepare us for the scene of revenge. (20)
Penelope brings the bow, and Telemachus sets up the axes as target. He first,
then some of the suitors, try in vain to string the bow. Odysseus reveals himself
to Eumaeus and Philoetius. The suitors put off the contest until next day, but
Odysseus, against their opposition, tries the bow himself. Euryclea locks up the
servant girls, and Philoetius shuts the door leading out of the hall. Odysseus
strings the bow with ease and shoots through the loops of the twelve axe-
heads.? (21)
The second shot lays Antinous low, and the hero shows them who he is.
Eurymachus tries in vain to arrange a settlement: he also is slain. Telemachus
brings arms: so does Melanthius for the suitors, but he is seized and bound by
the two loyal herds. Athene helps in the fight, and all the suitors are slain. Only
the bard Phemius and the herald Medon are spared. Odysseus forbids the nurse
Euryclea to rejoice at the punishment of the wicked, and has the hall cleansed.
The faithless servant girls are hanged; Melanthius is mutilated and killed, and
the loyal servants welcome their master. (22)
Euryclea cannot bring Penelope to believe in her husband’s return. Even
in his presence she has her doubts. He orders lyre-music and dancing for the
Ithacans to celebrate a marriage in the palace. Bathed and made more handsome
by Athene, he returns to the hall; but Penelope’s doubts and delays are still not
at an end. She only believes when Odysseus shows knowledge of a secret in the
t Athene’s lamp has been a stumbling-block to critics since the Alexandrians. R. PFEIFFER.
‘Die goldene Lampe der Athene’. Stud. It. 27/28, 1956, 426 (= Ausgewdhlte Schriften,
Munich 1960, 1), has shown that in this golden lamp we have a cult-object associated with
the goddess probably from Mycenaean times.
2 B. STANFORD, ‘A Reconsideration of the Problem of the Axes in Odyssey XXI’.
Class. Rev. 63, 1949, 3.
47
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

construction of the royal bed. The night brings man and wife together, and
they tell each other of their sufferings and experiences. In the morning Odysseus
goes off to find his father in the country. (23)
Hermes leads the shades of the suitors to the underworld, where Agamemnon
speaks to Achilles and Amphimedon, a conversation contrasting Penelope's
fidelity and the crime of Clytemnestra. Odysseus finds his father Laertes on his
farm and declares himself. Meanwhile Antinous’ father has aroused the people
of Ithaca to revolt: fighting flares up, but Athene makes a lasting peace. (24)
In the Poetics (24. 1459b15) Aristotle makes simplicity the keynote of the
Iliad’s plot, complexity that of the Odyssey, thinking probably in particular of
the part played by disguise and recognition. This verdict has been often repeated,
and it deserves careful consideration.
The Odyssey, like the Iliad, has a very compressed time-scale: all the events
occur within forty days. But this concentration is effected by very different
means. In the Iliad the wrath theme forms a solid core round which all the other
elements are ultimately wrapped. This is concentration in the truest sense: the
way in which the fates of Achilles, Patroclus and Hector are bound up one with
another and with the central wrath motif allows us to speak of a weaving
together of several thematic strands in a manner that is not parallelled in the
Odyssey. There the devices of composition are basically simpler, easier to grasp, and
consequently more effective. A continuous narrative of events is broken up into
sections and put together anew, without losing the continuity. Odysseus relates
to the Phaeacians his adventures from the beginning until his landing on the
island of Calypso. The poet is thus enabled to put much of the narrative into
the first person. The first four books — the so-called Telemachia — can also be
said to serve a useful end in the structure as a whole. Apart from the picture
they give of the suitors and of Odysseus’ character, the events in Ithaca make a
kind of picture-frame around the wanderings related in the middle books.
Equally, en revanche, Odysseus’ story of his adventures at the end of 23 closes
the brackets after the scenes in Ithaca.
The two epics do not differ only in the manner of their construction: we shall
later discuss differences in outlook on the world of men and gods. It is by no
means impossible to consider the Odyssey and Iliad as being products of one
individual’s old age and maturity respectively — many ancient critics did so.
But it would be easier to side with their opponents, the chorizontes, and ascribe
the Odyssey to a poet who lived later than Homer, and composed this work
under his influence about 700 B.c.!

" A. HEUBECK, Der Odyssee-Dichter und die Ilias. Erlangen 1954. The widely differing
importance of moral elements in the two epics is strongly stated by K. REINHARDT, ‘Tradi-
tion und Geist im hom. Epos’. Studium Generale 4, 1951, 334 (now Tradition und Geist. Gott.
1950, 5). The differences in vocabulary and phraseology are presented very fully in p. 1.
PAGE, The Homeric Odyssey, Oxf. 1955, 149; but his conclusion that the Odyssey comes
from a quite different cultural background from the Iliad goes much too far: cf. T. B. 1.
WEBSTER (p. 18, n. 1) 275 and 354 respectively. The belief in two poets is shared by w.
BURKERT, Rhein. Mus. 103, 1960, 131, 1 (with bibliog.). The view of the chorizontes has
much to be said for it, but in assessing stylistic differences we must take into account the
48
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

§ THE ODYSSEY: ANALYTICAL THEORIES

The analytical approach has been applied to the Odyssey no less than to the
Iliad, and here again valuable insight has been gained into the composition:
indeed it is only thus that its problems have been clearly seen. As we have
noticed, Kirchhoff espoused a ‘compilation’ theory,! and his footsteps have
been followed by many others. The Odyssey has been variously resolved into
three or more original poems, but there is little agreement on drawing the
boundaries. A different line is followed by P. von der Miihll and W. Schade-
waldt, who work on the supposition that an original Odyssey (written by Homer)
was substantially rehandled. Schadewaldt has published some preliminary
studies? to a book on the Odyssey. In these he strikes out several passages as later
additions, and shows the soundness of the remaining structure. In his view the
man who made the additions was no mean poet, although not on a level with
the original writer where loftiness of conception and strength of construction
are concerned. In these studies Schadewaldt often rehabilitates ideas of Kirch-
hoft’s. K. Reinhardt} is among the whole-hearted unitarians.
Just as with the Iliad, the analysts have sometimes overreached themselves.
A theory which holds that the genuine plot of the Odyssey has been tampered
with, and which proposes as part of the original a scene in which Nausicaa
strolls towards the city by the naked stranger’s side, is quite beyond acceptance,
even if it has such a scholar as E. Schwartz to support it. One must ask the
analysts to tolerate in the Odyssey such inconsistencies as are inevitable in so long
a poem. It is true that in 15. 295 Odysseus tells Telemachus to leave armour for
differences in the nature and sources of the subject matter. R. HAMPE, Die Gleichnisse Homers
und die Bildkunst seiner Zeit. Tiibingen 1952, Taf. 7-11, publishes an Attic geometric pot of
the middle eighth century, probably representing the shipwreck of Odysseus. This does
not of course date our Odyssey, but it would be valuable to have secure evidence that the
story was known on the Greek mainland at this time. The interpretation is disputed by H.
FRANKEL in Gnom. 28, 1956, $70.
1 Leading exponents are: E. SCHWARTZ, Die Odyssee. Munich 1924. U. VON WILAMOWITZ,
Die Heimkehr des Odysseus. Berl. 1927. More recent analysis: P. VON DER MUHLL, Odyssee.
RE Suppl. 7, 1940, 696. F. FOCKE, Die Odyssee. Tiib. Beitr. 37, Stuttg. 1943. W. SCHADE-
WALpDT, ‘Die Heimkehr des Odysseus’. Taschenbuch fiir junge Menschen. Berl. 1946, 177,
now with some stylistic alterations in the book Von Homers Welt und Werk. 3rd ed., Stuttg.
1959, 375. W. THEILER, ‘Vermutungen zur Odyssee’. Mus. Helv. 7, 1950, 102. R. MERKEL-
BACH, ‘Untersuchungen zur Odyssee’. Zet. 2, Munich 1951. B. MARZULLO, II problema
omerico. Florence 1952. D. L. PAGE, The Homeric Odyssey. Oxf. 1955. B. STOCKEM, Die Gestalt
der Penelope in der Odyssee. Diss. Cologne 1955. Further references in the report quoted above
(p. 14,n. I). R. PFEIFFER’s review of Schwartz’ and Wilamowitz’ books on the Odyssey (D.L.Z.
49, 1928, 2355) is of basic importance (now repr. in Ausgewahlte Schriften. Munich 1960, 8).
2 (i) ‘Der Prolog der Odyssee’. Festschr. W. Jaeger. Harv. Stud. in Class. Phil. 63, 1958, 15,
(ii) ‘Kleiderdinge’. Herm. 87, 1959, 13. (iii) ‘Neue Kriterien zur Odyssee-Analyse. Die
Wiedererkennung des Odysseus und der Penelope’. Sitzb. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl.
1959/2. (iv) ‘Der Helioszorn der Odyssee’. Studi in onore di L. Castiglioni. Florence 1960.
vol. 2, 859. Schadewaldt has put at the end of his translation of the Odyssey (Rowohlt’s
Classics 1958) a list of the verses which he ascribes to the diasceuast.
3 ‘Homer und die Telemachie’. Von Werken und Formen. Godesberg 1948, 37, and ‘Die
Abenteuer der Odyssee’. ibid. 52 (the best introduction to the inner structure of the Odyssey).
For a literary judgment: L. A. STELLA, II poema di Ulisse. Florence 1955.
49
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the two of them when he clears the arms from the hall, and when the time
comes, at the beginning of 19, the armour is not there: it is true that in 5. 108
Hermes alleges the anger of Athene as the cause of Odysseus’ shipwreck, which
contradicts the facts:! but this is the kind of thing that a poet might well happen
to overlook. The writer of the Odyssey is very likely to have worked in sections.
There are, nevertheless, real difficulties and problems affecting important
aspects of the composition.
Fierce dispute has raged around the Telemachia. As early as 1832 it was held
by Gottfried Hermann to be an addition. There are indeed serious objections
to the way the narrative proceeds, particularly as regards the failure to dis-
tinguish and to develop the two themes of Telemachus’ appeal to the people
against the suitors and his wish to have a ship to go seeking news. Recently the
four books (especially the much-maligned first with Telemachus’ self-discovery)
have been the subject of a careful and unprejudiced study by F. Klingner,? and
their virtues have emerged clearly enough to outweigh the weaknesses. It is
indeed surprising that the dispatch of Hermes to Calypso is requested by Athene
in the assembly of the gods in book 1, but is not carried through until she
repeats her complaints at the beginning of book 5. Analysts will claim that an
original single assembly of the gods has been split into two by the insertion
of the Telemachia: unitarians will contend that the council of gods in 5 aptly
introduces the scenes in which Odysseus figures, and that the Telemachia is as
neatly framed by the two councils as the wanderings are by the Telemachia and
the later scenes in Ithaca. It is worth notice also that in the first council Athene
makes a request, and in the second Zeus gives his command, so that the two
complement each other fairly well. We must bear in mind that the poet is here
managing several strands of simultaneous narrative, and this problem greatly
affects the composition of the Odyssey as a whole, as Edouard Delebecque? has
shown. An epic poet cannot describe several sequences of action at once, and
going back to pick up the thread is a thing that he cannot do more than once
or twice. Most likely the rules of oral recitation played their part here. Thus in
the Odyssey there is a ‘dead period’ for Telemachus in Sparta, for Odysseus at
the hut of Eumaeus, and for the suitors in Ithaca after Telemachus has left: only
one place can be the scene of action at any one time. Nevertheless we do find
the poet trying to establish cross-connections in such passages as 4. 625-687 or
16. 322-451. In this light the scenes in Olympus in 1 and 5 can readily be under-
stood: each sets going a different, even if simultaneous, train of happenings.
In his work on the prologue of the Odyssey Schadewaldt makes the important
observation that Odysseus’ homecoming is determined by the gods’ decision
and by his own — the typical Homeric ‘double motivation’, in the divine and
‘ More examples of this kind in M. VAN DER VALK, Textual Criticism of the Odyssey.
Leyden 1949, 226. A good summary of the principal analytical arguments is given by
Page (op. cit. p. 449 n. I).
“Ueber die vier ersten Biicher der Odyssee.’ Ber. Sachs. Akad. Leipz. 1944.
3 Télémaque et la structure de l’Odyssée. Annales de la Fac. de Lettres Aix-en-Provence.
N.S. 21. Gap 1958. Older discussions of the treatment of simultaneous happenings in epic
are cited in my report in AfdA 13, 1960, 17.
50
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
the human sphere. I cannot agree with Schadewaldt, however, in thinking that
this balance is destroyed by the repetition of the Olympian council, and that the
Telemachia is therefore spurious. If it is a later addition, then its author proved
himself to be a supreme master of epic composition.
A more general problem touches the wrath of Poseidon as the driving force
of the action. It is not dwelt on consistently throughout the wanderings: this
would only have led to tedious repetition. After leaving Aeolus’ island it is the
crew's distrust that brings disaster; and Zeus is incensed with them after their
sinful killing of the oxen of the sun. This is no grist for the analyst’s mill. Divine
displeasure is a secondary element in epic: the old adventure-stories made no
use of it. We should also note the skill with which a twofold divine anger is
indicated at the end of book to, when Polyphemus’ prayer is heard by Poseidon,
and Zeus rejects the offering of Odysseus.!
Many of the analytical arguments can be turned to contrary effect. On three
occasions (17, 18 and 20) different suitors, swollen with arrogance, throw
things at Odysseus in his beggar’s guise. If we consider the subtle variation on
this theme, and the mounting effect of each anticlimax, we shall recognize the
artistry that is at work in the narration.
The Phaeacis too has been very vigorously assailed as impairing the unity of
the poem. Schadewaldt,? like Kirchhoff, would delete 7. 148-232, and thus
make Arete’s question in 237 relevant to Odysseus’ request in 146. Yet we must
reflect that Arete’s enquiry after the clothes that she instantly recognizes fits very
well into the more intimate scene when the Phaeacian lords have gone away.
Schadewaldt goes on to athetize the second day in Phaeacia as an invention of
the redactor’s. Demodocus’ singing and Odysseus’ narrative belonged origin-
ally, he thinks, to the day of his arrival. It has always been a stumbling-block
for analysts that in 7. 318 Alcinous promises to send Odysseus home next day,
but in fact the promise is not discharged until the day after that. An opposite
interpretation has been spiritedly urged by Wilhelm Matte.3 In our outline of the
plot we suggested that the ‘intermezzo’ in book 11 might explain this delay.
But there is still a surprising contrast between the close-packed narrative of the
second day and the vacuity of the third. Can we explain it by supposing that the
second day restores the tempest-tossed wanderer to the company of his fellows
and to all that life has in store, while the third is wholly absorbed by thoughts of
going home? Or have we here a detached sequel to the coherent narrative of
the day before? Such questions lead inevitably to subjective answers: but they
must be seriously posed.
The Nekyia of the eleventh book is particularly troublesome.* There is much
1 See REINHARDT, Op. Cit. 85. SCHADEWALT also in the fourth of his studies mentioned
above accepts the wrath of Helius as original, but ascribes the oath-taking in 12. 296-304
to the arranger.
2 In the second of the studies cited. Opposed by uv. HOLsCHER, ‘Das Schweigen der
Arete’. Herm. 88, 1960, 257. 3 Odysseus bei den Phdaken. Wirzburg 1958.
4 For a unitary view see M. VAN DER VALK, Beitrdge zur Nekyia. Kampen 1935; more
recent works are cited in his book mentioned above (p. 50, n. 1), p. 221. An analytical view:
MERKELBACH, Op. cit. 185.
SI
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

that is remarkable in the prophecies of Tiresias and the conversation with

Odysseus’ mother, and the catalogue of heroines and penitent sinners fits its
context rather loosely. Yet we should not assume that this visit to the under-
world was entircly lacking in the original version of the Odyssey. This is a
passage where suspicion of interpolation is particularly strong. Traces of older
versions can be seen here and there, as in 20. 156, 276; 21. 258, where a festival
of Apollo is mentioned, which once no doubt played an important part in the
saga of the hero’s return.
There remains one passage in which we may reasonably say that traces of an
older version are visible. There is no clear motivation of Penelope’s appearance
before the suitors in book 18, in order to receive their gifts. In addition, the
scene of washing the feet in the next book seems as if it ought to lead up to a
recognition of Odysseus by Penelope. The avoidance of this by Athene’s inter-
vention is as violent as the sudden breaking off of the dream vision, which
cannot be allowed to reveal too much. The story would be much more intelli-
gible if recognition followed the foot-washing, and if Penelope then in concert
with Odysseus went in to the suitors, so as to take their gifts as some compensa-
tion for the damage they have done. If we are right in supposing an old version
like this, and if the poet of our Odyssey altered it, we should not overlook the
advantages gained — in particular the wonderful sequence of scenes which leads
to the recognition in book 23.! In his analysis Schadewaldt assigns 23. 117-172
(measures to clean up after killing the suitors; Odysseus’ bath) to the diasceuast.
Again the poem as Schadewaldt leaves it flows smoothly and faultlessly: but
must we really give up our bath scene? Is it not alluded to plainly enough in
115, where dirt and rags are spoken of? Is it not likely that the poet would have
wanted Odysseus to look his best for the final reunion with his wife?
We cannot, however, deny, that some passages raise difficulties which cannot
be dismissed as subjective. The speech in which Athene advises Telemachus
(I. 269-296) is so confused that we can hardly tell what she wants him to do; and
Odysseus’ request to the Phaeacians (7. 215) to be allowed to have his dinner is
very odd, since he had already had it (5. 177). The elaborate introduction of
Theoclymenus in 15 strangely contrasts with his unimportant role in the plot.
This may be partly accounted for by the poet’s delight in story-telling as such.
But the way in which the second attack of the suitors on Telemachus is dis-
missed in a few verses (20. 241-247), and the thread starting at 20. 371 is rudely
broken off, simply does not cohere with the remaining narrative. These diffi-
culties concern individual passages and could be removed by slight emendation.
Their appearance in the text is perhaps owing to rhapsodic tradition. The
analytical zeal that is displayed in devising hypothetical origins trips over the
fact that the epic poems, as long as they were virtually the exclusive property
of the rhapsodes, were exposed to alteration or interpolation far more than
tragedy ever was to actors’ interpolations. Yet we know that the actors did
interpolate. The brevity, or rather headlong haste, with which the last book is
* On the management of the scenes in the books preceding the recognition see 0. SEEL,
‘Variante und Konvergenz in der Odyssee’. Studi in onore di U.E. Paoli. Florence 1955, 643.
52
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

brought to an end could easily be explained if we inferred from the scholium to

23.296 that the genuine Odyssey ended there. The statement that Aristophanes
and Aristarchus reckoned this point as the réAos (spas) of the epic has often
been taken as meaning that the Alexandrians knew of manuscripts that ended
at 296. But there is no hint that they athetized either the end of the Odyssey or
the passages anticipating it, as they must necessarily have done if the scholium
were talking about the end of the genuine transmission. Accordingly we fall
back on an interpretation found as early as Eustathius: namely that the Alex-
andrians considered that the real subject of the Odyssey (the wanderings and the
slaying of the suitors) had here reached its conclusion.
This does not, of course, guarantee the genuineness of the 24th book as a
whole. The end section and the second Nekyia are open to grave doubt. But
one would be very happy to leave as genuine (with Schadewaldt) the résumé
with which Odysseus talks himself to sleep.
The questions we have alluded to give a general picture of the problems. In
sum, we can be more confident with the Odyssey than with the Iliad in assuming
earlier treatments of the same material. The poet of the Iliad, by introducing
the wrath motif as an organizing principle, created something new out of the
mass of epic material before him. In the adventures of Odysseus the present
state of the poem allows us to infer the existence of older treatments. How
specific we can be is quite another matter. Certainly this is not the cobbling
together of older poems by a mere compiler. The Odyssey as we have it betrays
a strength in composition and a mastery of narrative that mark the great work
of art. In this sense it is a unity.
6 CULTURAL LEVELS IN THE HOMERIC POEMS

The Alexandrian critics! were the first to remark that such things as riding,
signalling by trumpet and boiling of meats occur in the Iliad only in similes. If
these come from the poet’s own world, it becomes necessary to posit at least
two distinct cultural levels? — one to which the actions narrated in the poem are
X Schol. JI. 15. 679; 18. 259; 21..632.
2 On the different cultural elements: M. P. NILSSON, Homer and Mycenae. Lond. 1933. A.
SEVERYNS, I. 7; 2. 13. W. DEN BOER, ‘Le Role de I’art et l’histoire dans les études homériques
contemporaines’. Ant. Class. 17, 1948, 25. J. L. MYRES, ‘Homeric Art’. Ann. Br. School
Ath. 45, 1920, 229. H. L. LORIMER, Homer and the Monuments. Lond. 1950. W. SCHADEWALDT,
‘Homer und sein Jahrhundert’. Von Homers Welt und Werk. 3rd ed. Stuttg. 1959, 87.
D. H. F. GRAY, ‘Metal Working in Homer’. Journ. Hell. Stud. 74, 1954, 1. L. A. STELLA, II
poema di Ulisse. Florence 1955. Cc. M. BOWRA, Homer and his Forerunners. Edinburgh 1955.
R. HAMPE, ‘Die homerische Welt im Lichte der neuesten Ausgrabungen’. Gymn. 63, 1956, I.
A. HEUBECK, Gnom. 29, 1957, 38. There are important sections on Mycenaean elements in
Homer in T. B. L. WEBSTER’S books From Mycenae to Homer. London 1958, and Die Nach-
fahren Nestors. Mykene und die Anfdnge griechischer Kultur. Janus-Biicher 19. Munich 1961.
C. H. WHITMAN, Homer and the Heroic Tradition. Harv. Un. Press 1958. D. L. PAGE, History
and the Homeric Iliad. Sather Classical Lectures 31. Univ. of Calif. Press 1959 (repr. paper-
bound 1963), on which see the important review by A. HEUBECK in Gnom. 33, 1961, 113.
SP. MARINATOS, ‘Problemi omerici e preomerici in Pilo’. Parola del Passato. 16, 1961, 219.
There is a good summary (although it cannot but be problematical here and there) in
G. S. KIRK’S article ‘Objective Dating Criteria in Homer’. Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 189. On
the phratries (II. 2. 362) see A. ANDREWES, Herm. 89, 1961, 129.
(G1P2 53
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

referred, and a second in which the poet lived. Nothing useful has been achieved
by attempts to refer these cultural differences to a transitional period in which
old and new occurred side by side.
Homer himself makes it plain that he is telling of a far distant time and of
greater men (e.g. Il. 12. 447). How far we may attribute archaism to Homer,
has yet to be discussed. It is certainly true that the epics preserve an almost
unbroken silence on the great revolution wrought by the Dorian invasion.
Once only in the Odyssey (19. 177) are the three tribes of the Dorians mentioned:
Hera in the Iliad (4. 51) bids Zeus destroy her three favourite cities, Argos,
Sparta and Mycenae, and possibly the poet is alluding to historical events. We
now have historical data about the Mycenaean kingdom of Agamemnon
and that of Nestor in Pylos, and about the wealth of Orchomenus (II. 9. 381);
and we know that several centuries separate them from the poet’s time. This
lapse of time can be seen in the part played by bronze and iron respectively.
Iron objects are among the valuable prizes given by Achilles at the funeral
games (23. 261, 834, 850). The rarity and costliness of iron is underlined by the
fact that weapons in the Iliad are almost wholly of bronze. The only exceptions
are the iron club of Areithous in 7. 141 and the iron head of Pandarus’ arrow
(4. 123). From the second passage we can infer that Homer was acquainted with
circumstances in which iron was easily enough obtainable to be used for arrow-
heads. These were of course the circumstances of his own time. Further evidence
is the free use of ‘iron’ in metaphorical and proverbial expressions: ‘a heart of
iron’ (II. 24. 205, 521); ‘iron (i.e. an iron weapon) tempts a man to use it’
(Od. 19. 13).
How are we to explain this relation of the poet to a past in which his heroes
live and move? We saw earlier (p. 17) that it is part of the stock-in-trade of
heroic poetry to set its stories in a more or less remote past. This is easy to explain.
In most cases such poetry has a historical background which remains a living
memory despite great liberties in reshaping. Very probably Homer had seen
the ruins of Troy. But we must not speak in his case of deliberate archaizing,
such as a modern historical novelist might practise. There was an epic tradition
going back hundreds of years, and in consequence Homer was tied to precedent
in what he said and how he said it. His language makes this plain. But on the
other hand, the poet alludes to things of his own time far more than a deliberate
archaizer would do.
The two epics are set in a remote past; but it is inconceivable that they do not
reflect the social structure of his own time.! The world of the great leaders is
sharply separated from a lower stratum which is only represented in similes or in
the persons of servants. The independent proprietor is the central feature: only
a few craftsmen — smiths, potters, carpenters — and itinerant physicians, seers

" H. STRASBURGER, ‘Der soziologische Aspekt der homerischen Epen’. Gymn. 60, 1953,
97. EMILE MIREAUX, La Vie quotidienne au temps d’Homere. Paris 1955 (Engl. trans. London
1959). M. I. FINLEY, The World of Odysseus. London 1956. A. FANFANI, Poemi omerici ed
economia antica. Milan 1960. On the general background: H. M. CHADWICK. The Heroic Age.
Cambr, 1912.

54
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
and minstrels have established their independence. We can see where the centre
of gravity of this social order lay from the scene in I/. 23 where Achilles offers
a large disc of iron as a prize: the winner will ensure his supplies of iron for five
years, and will not need to send herd or ploughman into the town in search of it.
Scholars have rightly been unwilling to draw too close a parallel between
this society and medieval chivalry. Homeric society is much more closely tied
to farming and the work it involves. It is possible for Odysseus (18. 365) to
challenge Eurymachus to a contest in mowing and ploughing: even in the
Iliad the scenes depicted on the shield of Achilles include a noble proprietor
(basileus) standing contentedly among his harvesters.
But the fact remains that it is a world of chivalry, in which fighting is the
ultimate self-fulfilment of the nobles. Only they count in warfare, whether they
drive their chariots over the battlefield or seek each other out in single combat.
The mass of the people, as listed in the Catalogue of Ships, through all these
duels appears only in the poet’s similes.
The warrior ideology is strongly brought out in the Iliad from the very
nature of the material. In the Odyssey, however, when Odysseus disregards
Circe’s warning and proposes to meet Scylla in armour with two spears, we
can reckon this as heroic colouring laid on to a primitive story of adventure by
sea. We must of course not overlook the fact that the Odyssey brings wider
ranges of human life within its purview.
The ways of life and thought of aristocratic society are more in Homer than
part of his inherited material; he saw them alive in his own age. The proud
lords of Chalcis called themselves Hippobotae, rearers of horses, and when in
about 700 war broke out with Eretria over the Lelantine lands, bringing noble
warriors from all over Greece, there was an agreement to ban all missile weapons,
so as to leave the decision to gentlemanly man-to-man duels (Strab. 448).
One of the particular instances that mark the two epics as products of their
own time is the fact that Diomede and Odysseus, in one special case, ride
horses (II. 10. 513, 541): this, however, in the suspect Doloneia. The difference
between the two ages comes out amusingly in another connection: Homeric
heroes live on roast meat, and are only reduced to fishing by the direst necessity;
but in similes fishing in various forms appears with the frequency of an every-
day pursuit.! Many perplexities and false datings are associated with the question
whether a Homer of the eighth century could have had knowledge of temples
and cult-images like those in the sixth book of the Iliad. He could have had? -
but it was primarily to his own age that he was indebted for knowledge of this
kind of divine worship. In both epics we meet the Phoenicians as traders and
pirates. It was between 1000 and 800 that they received the maritime inheritance
of Mycenae in the Mediterranean: they are far removed from the age of Aga-
memnon. Cremation also in the epics is a feature from Homer’s own day: the
Mycenaeans buried their dead in shaft graves or bechive tombs. There are
1 Passages cited in A. LeSKY, Thalatta. Vienna 1947, 18.
2 Schadewaldt op. cit. 93, n. 5. W. KRAIKER, Gnom. 24, 1952, 453. G. 8. KIRK Op. Cit. 194.
3 pg, MYLONAS, ‘Homeric and Mycenaean Burial Customs’. Am. Journ. Arch. 52, 1948, 56.
55
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

sometimes difficulties in referring particular items to the poet’s own age. We

are probably right in doing so with the armour taken by Agamemnon from the
Cyprian king Cinyras, with its snakes twining up to the neck (Jl. 11. 20).
Against features coming from the poet’s time we may set others derived from
Mycenaean, or even Cretan, civilization. There are not very many, and not all
are certain. It was reasonable to hope for much in this connection from the
decipherment of Linear B. This hope has been disappointed, and not merely
because the new texts are concerned with the economic records of the seat of
government. Rather, it is because the knowledge thus gained of social and
economic structure tends to widen the gap between the Homeric and Mycenaean
worlds. Rodenwaldt’s conclusion,! that Homer has many historical, but no
archaeological links with Mycenaean culture, has been confirmed in its second
part, but weakened in its first. The connections between the Mycenaean world
and the civilizations of the Near East seem to be multiplying, but this does not
imply that Homer’s links with it cannot be traced any more. The classical
instance is Nestor’s cup, described in Iliad 11. 632 seqq., which has been con-
sidered Mycenacan on the strength of a golden vessel found in the fourth shaft
grave at Mycenae. Recent writers have stressed the differences more than the
resemblances;? but they are close enough to justify the older view. In the
description of the palace of Alcinous (Od. 7. 87) there occurs a frieze of kyanos,
ie. lapis lazuli or imitation of it in blue glass: this material is found in orna-
mental work at Tiryns. Since this type of ornament was of Cretan origin, we
are in touch here with the culture of Crete — a rare thing in Homeric epic. Such
reminiscences may partly account for the special position enjoyed by the queen
Arete among the Phaeacians, and the dancing floor that Daedalus made for
Ariadne in Cnossus. The knowledge which both epics display (II. 9. 381; Od.
4. 126) of the wealth of Thebes in Upper Egypt must go back to a time before
the barbarian invasions. Such passages as Od. 3. 318; 4. 354, 482 show us how
shadowy a notion of Egypt was current later. A clear instance is the leather
helmet, oversown with rows of boar’s teeth, which Meriones gives to Odysseus
(Il. 10. 26r), which certainly connects with an ivory head and pierced boar’s
teeth from Mycenae. We have already seen how significant the use of bronze in
Homeric weapons is, taken together with the rarity of iron. Metal inlay will
deserve a word or two later. Swords with silver-studded hilts are known from
the fifteenth and seventh centuries: very likely they were also used in between.
The common formula ¢ddayavov apyupdnAov includes a word for ‘sword’ which
occurs in Linear B as pa-ka-na (plural) but goes out of use later, and it is a likely
guess that the formula and the thing itself go back to the Mycenaean age. This
instance shows how much may be surmised and how little proved in dealing
with these materials.
Twice in the Iliad (6. 320; 8. 495) we are told that Hector’s spear had a golden
ring round its head. Socket-type spearheads, secured to the shaft with a ring,

1 Tiryns 2, 1912, 204.

* Thus HAMPE, ‘Die hom. Welt’ (sup. p. 2, n. 20) p. 20, against MYRES and DEN BOER
Opp. citt.
56
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

are known to us from Mycenaean and Cretan graves. Since W. Reichel published
his book on Homeric weapons! it has been widely believed that, of the two
kinds of shield appearing in Homer, the long one protecting the whole body is
Mycenaean, while the small round one belongs to Homer’s own time. This view
has recently been called in question, and geometric vases have been brought to
light in which the small round shield and the large ‘figure-of-eight’ shield
appear side by side. In fact the long shield appears in two shapes in the carved
dagger-handle from the fourth shaft-grave at Mycenae: as well as the figure of
eight there is the ‘fire-screen’ type without any narrowing at the waist.
In the Iliad the long shield is particularly associated with Ajax: the fact that he is
spoken of in a repeated formula (7. 219; 11. 485; 17. 128) as ‘moving his shield
like a tower’ makes us think rather of the second of the major Mycenaean forms.
We have seen that not all the alleged Mycenaean features in Homer can be
claimed as certain; but beyond doubt there are some. How does this happen in
poetry of the eighth century? C. Robert, in his Studien zur Ilias (1901), written
under the influence of Reichel’s study, tried to establish cultural levels on this
difference of armaments. The approach has shown itself delusive. How un-
fortunate that the splendid Mycenaean boar-tooth helmet should occur precisely
in that Doloneia which is generally agreed to be a later addition! A more
credible theory regards these ‘Mycenaean’ objects as ancient heirlooms: the
helmet in question had belonged to many men, and was left to Meriones by his
father. But even so, the survival of such things over several centuries seems
unlikely, and the explanation will hardly fit all the cases.
Modern scholars are still divided into two camps on this question. Some
maintain that Greek epic poetry with Troy as its theme can be traced back to
beginnings in the Mycenaean age. The various thematic and linguistic elements
that can be referred to this period are derived from it (they think) by direct
tradition. This view is espoused in varying ways, but with considerable confi-
dence, by Webster, Page and Whitman. The opposite attitude is taken by
Heubeck, and Kirk also is more circumspect. For them it is the differences
between the Mycenaean and Homeric worlds which are of prime importance,
and they stress the possibility that the ‘Mycenaean’ elements are derived not from
a poetical tradition going back to that time, but to memories that survived the
overthrow of Mycenae and later found their way into epic poetry. The “dark
age’, in their opinion, is the formative period for both the legend and the epic.
If the author is to put forward a view of his own, it must of course be no
more than hypothesis. There must have been songs and legends of heroes in the
feudal world of Mycenae, as we have said before. Possibly they were in a dactylic
metre; in the very nature of things their themes must have been battle and adven-
ture; it is conceivable that many of the characters known to us from Homer
played a part in them. But there is nothing to suggest that the expedition against
Troy was the main subject matter and that we have thus to postulate contem-
porary poetical accounts of an historical undertaking. It is much more credible
t Vienna 1894, 2nd ed. 1901. Further literature in u. TRUMPY, Kriegerische Fachausdriicke
im griechischen Epos. Diss. Basel 1950, 6 and 20; cf. Schadewaldt op. cit. 94.
of
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

that the development of the Trojan cycle of legends in the form of oral epic
took place essentially in the ‘dark age’. The economic depression of the period
is not a valid argument against this view, as has been rightly pointed out." It is
impossible to delimit accurately the contributions made by the Ionian and the
mainland Greeks, but that of the latter should not be underestimated. The part
played by Athens must be borne in mind, even if we cannot go with Whitman
in making Athens the cradle of the epic. Hampe and Webster have skilfully
traced the strands that lead from Pylos by way of Athens to the colonies.
Certainly it would be a great mistake, as Schadewaldt has rightly pointed out,
to suppose that the Aegean kept those two areas poles apart.’
As for Mycenaean elements in Homeric poetry, we must keep open both the
possibilities mentioned earlier, without trying to reach a definite solution in any
one specific instance. That words and formulae should have come down from
the Mycenaean age is quite conceivable; but at the same time we may be dealing
with floating memories from the age immediately following, in which all the
devastation was not able wholly to snap the thread of tradition. At the same
time we must take account of regional differences. Thus the author also envisages
the stream of oral poetry as flowing for many centuries before it pours at last
into the wide sea of the Homeric epic: it bears with it many fragments from a
remote antiquity, but on its way it has picked up many of a recent date.
There is a striking and, as it were, symbolic mixture of elements in the shield
of Achilles. The description of its manufacture takes us back to the Mycenaean
dagger-handle with its ornament of metal inlay, but the nature of the scenes
portrayed is most closely parallelled by bronze shields of oriental type from the
eighth century.3
To sum up: the world of Homeric poetry contains many references to the
vigorous life of the poet’s own time, while also having features that come from
a remote past, survivals that are enclosed in their context like flies in amber.
There is truth in Myres’ paradox, that the world of Homeric poetry is immortal
for this very reason, that it never existed outside the poet’s imagination.

7 LANGUAGE AND STYLE

Nowhere is language more conditioned by metre than it is in Greek epic. We

have no knowledge of any earlier stage in which some other metre than the
hexameter was used: rather the extreme antiquity suggested by some of the
formulae leads us to believe that the metre goes back to the earliest days of
Greek epic. The peculiar position which it holds among Greek metres, and such
phenomena as lengthening metri gratia, implying difficulty in employing it,
incline one to accept Meillet’s theory of its pre-Greek origin.*
The danger of monotony involved in the use of strict metre in unbroken
G. S. KIRK, Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 189 and Proc. Cambr. Phil. Soc. 187, 1961, 46.
* Von Homers Welt und Werke. 3rd ed. Stuttg. 1958, 98.
3 SCHADEWALDT Op. cit. 94, n. 7.
* Les Origines indo-européennes des metres grecs. Paris 1923. K. MAROT, ‘Der Hexameter’.
Acta Ant. Acad. Scient. Hungar. V1. fasc. 1/2, 1958; Die Anfiinge der griech. Literatur. Budapest
1960, 212.
58
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

sequences of verse was countered in various ways. The first of these was the
substitution of spondees for dactyls: this is exceptional in the fifth foot, and in
the fourth it is uncommon when a break follows. The monotony could also be
relieved by varying the point where the sentence ended: Homer often runs over
the end of the line (enjambement). An important word can be given special
emphasis by thus placing it at the beginning of a line. But the hexameter is
really made usable as a metre by the many possible caesurae: a feature which
earned the praise of Friedrich Schlegel. It is not a question of necessary pauses to
take breath, but rather of devising a means to make the sense-divisions coincide
in certain recognized ways with the metrical divisions. The following diagram
indicates the admissible caesurae.

: <8
eed naa kala08
There are three clearly divided groups, of which the middle group includes the
two most important caesurae. In 27803 hexameters there are 11361 examples of
the break after the long syllable of the third dactyl (penthemimeral caesura) and
15640 of the break after the first trochee of the third foot (trochaic caesura). In
other words, almost every verse in the poems has a sensible break in the middle,
dividing it into two halves, one beginning with a falling, the other with a rising
tone. There are various subsidiary breaks on either side of the principal caesurae,
dividing up the halves of the line and thus resulting often in a fourfold division.!
Since, however, the break in the first half of the line is often either weak or
completely obscured, it is not unusual to find a hexameter divided by sense and
metre into three parts. In fine, the metre presents a free play of possibilities
within sharply drawn boundaries; and as such typifies at an early stage the
Greek principle of freedom under law which was to fulfil itself in the classical
period.
An historical study of Homeric language? discovers at the outset a mixture
of different dialects. The latest elements are Attic: but they arise from circum-
stances not of the composition, but of the transmission of the poems. Since an
important stage of the transmission took place on Attic soil, it is easy to see how
Atticisms have crept in.3 Another explanation must be sought for the numerous
t On the structure of the Homeric hexameter see FRANKEL 39. Id., Wege und Formen
friihgriechischen Denkens. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 100. H. N. PORTER, ‘The Early Greek Hexa-
meter’. Yale Class. Stud. 12, 1951 with tables for the individual structural types. Abundant
material on the same theme in H. J. METTE, ‘Die Struktur des 4ltesten daktylischen Hexa-
meters’. Glotta 35, 1956, I.
2K, MEISTER, Die homerische Kunstsprache. Leipz. 1921. M. P. NILSSON, Homer and
Mycenae. Lond. 1933, 160. P. CHANTRAINE, Grammaire homérique. I, 3rd ed. Paris 1958; 2,
1953. Id., Introduction 4 I’Iliade. Paris 1948, 89-136. C. GALLAVOTTI — A. RONCONI, La lingua
omerica. 3rd ed. Bari 1955. J. S. LASSO DE LA VEGA, La oracién nominal en Homero. Madrid
1955. V. PISANI, Storia della lingua greca in Encicl. Class. 2/5/1. Turin 1960, 25. P.J.KAKRIDIS,
‘H rapdraén tGv ovcvactikdy orov “Opnpo Kal atovds “Opnprxovs Upvous. Thessalonica 1960.
See also the works cited on the dialect problem (sup. p. 9, n. 1).
3 The opposing positions: J. WACKERNAGEL, Sprachliche Untersuchungen zu Homer. Gott.
1916 (1-159, also Glotta 7, 1916, 161) and U. VON WILAMOwITz, Die Ilias und Homer. Berl.
1916, 506.
59
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Acolisms! in the basically Ionic language of epic. This co-existence of Aeolic

and Ionic forms is remarkable. The Aeolic modal particle Ke(v) occurs three
times as frequently as the Ionic dv; dppes and dupes occur beside jpets and bpeis;
the Acolic infinitive endings -pev and -jevar compete with the Ionic -vav and
-ew; in the perfect participle the Acolic inflection like that of the present
participle is found beside the Ionic forms, and Aecolic datives like 7ddeaar beside
the Ionic zocai and zroat, to give but a few examples.
On the west coast of Asia Minor the Ionians pushed northwards and overlaid
old Aeolic settlements, which, like Smyrna, came to be associated with Homer.
Hence it was tempting to imagine that the two epics were originally composed
in Aeolic and later underwent an Ionic redaction. This view was taken to its
logical conclusion by August Fick, who attempted in 1883 and 1886 to turn
them back into Acolic. This is a good example ofamistaken view bringing real
benefits in its train. It was only thus that scholars recognized two kinds of
Ionism — those which might easily be a substitute for an Aeolic form, and those
for which no Aeolic replacement was possible. The result in brief was to show
that we have not successive layers of dialect, but Aeolic and Ionic forms in close
and often inseparable connection. Attempts to carry out Homeric analysis on a
dialectal basis have consequently achieved little of note. The complexity of the
problems can be seen from the Doloneia. Late forms in it have been eagerly
seized upon, but here, and only here, occurs the old Aeolic aBpotagomev —
a linguistic counterpart of the boar-tooth helmet!
A difficulty in the investigation of Homeric language lies in our ignorance
of Acolic or Ionic at the time of composition, so that we have to rely on know-
ledge of later forms in these dialects. What can be said with confidence is that
the language of these poems, with its mixture of dialectal forms, does not
represent the language currently spoken at the time.* In this sense it can be
called an artificial language. This does not mean that it is a deliberate mixture
of different dialects, but rather that it arose as a by-product of the formation of
the Homeric poems. We cannot follow this development in detail nowadays.
The more carefully one studies the mixture of forms in this epic literary dialect,
the more complicated does it appear. The different elements can be classified
into a horizontal and a vertical dimension: horizontal in that dialectal forms
current at the same time in different places are found together: vertical in that
old and young forms occur side by side. A particularly clear example of the
latter is the use of contracted and uncontracted forms of verbs. In the present
state of our knowledge it would be too much of a simplification to separate out
an older Aeolic from a later Ionic stratum, or to talk unqualifiedly of one’s over-
lying the other. The mixture is both older and more intimate than used to be
‘ K. STRUNK, Die sogennannten Aeolismen der homerischen Sprache. Diss. Cologne 1957,
tries to get rid of the Aeolisms by referring them as archaisms to a Peloponnesian and
central Greek dialect; but this is not workable, cf. p. CHANTRAINE, Athenaeum N.S. 36,
1958, 317, and F. R. ADRADOS, Kratylos 4, 1959, 177.
? Georgiev’s theory (cf. sup. p. 9, n. r and Klio 38, 1960, 69) explaining Homer’s language
with its multiplicity of forms as the last phase ofa Mycenaean koine incorporating Ionic and
Acolic elements is not likely to make many converts.
60
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
assumed. Nevertheless, some observations point to the great antiquity of certain
forms considered as Aeolic. It is also untrue to suppose that parallel forms are
always interchangeable. Thus the intensive prefixes dpi- and ép- are not inter-
changeable in the same word, and the latter is especially frequent in formulae at
the ends of verses, which are probably very old.
We are greatly helped towards understanding how this epic language ori-
ginated by the observations of Vittore Pisani! on the poetic diction of the
Ottocento, which has picked up from the preceding centuries elements of the
most diverse origin — Sicilian and Tuscan especially, but also Provengal in many
cases.
Attempts have recently been made to separate out different levels of Homeric
language chronologically —- Mycenaean, Pre-migration and Post-migration
diction.? But these elaborate studies have served to show how hard it is in a
thorough mixture like this to sort out linguistic levels, let alone to date individual
passages and sections by them. In the perpetual flux of epic language new
formulae were being invented even at a late date, and old formulae were still
being pressed into the poet’s service. In this way epic language developed its
peculiar richness: much that was old remained amid the inrush of the new, and
forms of widely diverse age and origin were used side by side. It is obvious that
such a rich variety of forms was very welcome to the bards who extemporized
heroic lays, while for later poets it made the mastery of the hexameter much
easier to attain. The coexistence of different linguistic periods is well illustrated
by the varying use of the later definite article. The same may be said of the
optional use of the digamma, a discovery which we owe to the genius of
Bentley. In both epics we find this sound regarded or disregarded at will in
prosody. The degree to which it was sounded in Greek at the time no doubt
varied, and thus the poet was allowed to be inconsistent.3
As we saw above (p. 9) the decipherment of the Linear B tablets has set
everyone asking what relation there is between this Mycenaean Greek and the
known dialects. At the same time one would be glad to know how it stands
to the epic literary language. Our ideas are very far from settled, and what
was said about cultural levels in Homer can be said again in this context.
Some scholars, like Denys Page, are confident that we can sort out the
Mycenaean elements in Homer’s language: on the other hand Kirk prudently
points out that it must still have been possible for formulae of the type we
have in mind to find their way into oral poetic tradition after the Mycenaean
age. Two factors contribute further to the uncertainty. On the one hand

Opn cita (paGy i. L)yng 83

2 T. B. L. WEBSTER, ‘Early and Late in Homeric Diction’. Eranos 54, 1956, 34. G. S. KIRK,
‘Objective Dating Criteria in Homer’. Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 197. Great vigour and confi-
dence is displayed by p. 1. PAGE, History and the Homeric Iliad. Sather Class. Lect. 31, Univ.
of Calif. Press 1959, especially c. 6, in identifying Mycenaean elements in Homeric lan-
guage. -
3 Apart from the standard grammars, see also A. PAGLIARO, ‘Il digamma e la tradizione
dei poemi omerici’ in Saggi di critica semantica. Rome 1952, 65.
6I
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Manu Leumann! has declared that a great many glosses attributed to Arcado-
Cyprian (the group closest akin to Mycenaean) which we find in inscriptions
or in the grammarians are not genuine dialect forms, but reminiscences of
epic language. On the other, the interpretation of the Linear B tablets is often
uncertain and debateable because of the defects of the system of writing (v.
sup. p. 10). But even bearing all this in mind, we find a good many indisputable
connections between Homeric and Mycenaean Greek. This fact emerges from
such a careful and valuable study as that of Vittore Pisani.? We are no more able
to date the entry of individual elements of language into the epic tradition than
we were able to date the entry of material objects. But just as we were able
confidently to assume the existence of Mycenaean heroic poetry, without
supposing it to have been a lineal ancestor of the Iliad, so we are free to suppose
that a number of formulae (such as our Pdoyavov apyvpoyAov and words like
aloa, Aevaow, 770w) go back to this period.
The assumption of an extremely long period of development for epic language
is supported by the fact that we meet forms and meanings which can only be
accounted for as misunderstandings of some old linguistic inheritance. Examples
are 6 ayyeXins ‘the messenger’, and the adjective dxpuders. Leumann has shown
wonderful acuteness in tracking many of these down but they will not serve as
tools for the analyst. The coexistence of old and new ways of using the same
linguistic inheritance need surprise no one who bears in mind the type of
development that we postulate.
The most obvious feature of the language of both epics is the large part
played by formulaic elements, which we must take to be part of their inheritance
from oral composition. Recent studies have brought out ever more clearly the
connection of these formulae with the metre.
First we have the ‘perpetual epithet’ with persons and things.+ Very often
these adjectives have their own particular place in the verse, and some of them
occur in only one case, through the exigencies of the metre. We also find in
Homer a good many formulae for the beginning and end of a speech, for
standing up and sitting down, for incidents in battle, etc. Many of them are as
long as half'a verse, and by slight alterations can be made to fit different places
in the line and to suit other circumstances. A third class is made up of the stock
scenes which recur frequently, often running to several verses, such as banquet,
t Homerische Worter. Schweiz. Beitr. 3. Basel 1950, 262. 2 Op. cit. (sup. p. 9, n. I).
3 From what we have said about the dialects it is plain that we cannot any longer talk
about an ‘Achaean’ level in this connection. This is a drawback in c. J. RUIJGH’s book
L’Elément achéen.dans la langue épique. Assen 1957. £. RISCH in Gnom. 30, 1958, 87 deplores
the confidence often shown in establishing ‘primitive’ elements of language, and doubts
in particular whether Mycenaean elements can be proved in Homer.
4 K. WITTE was first in the field: Glotta 1, 1909, 132 and his article on Homer in RE 8,
1913, 2213. More recent observations by M. PARRY, L’Epithéte traditionelle dans Homere.
Paris 1928. His later work in J. LABARBE, L’ Homeére de Platon. Bibl. de la Fac. de Phil. et Lettr.
Liege. 117, 1949: Labarbe’s own contributions are considerable. Severyns 2, 49. D. L. PAGE,
History and the Homeric Iliad (cited p. 35, 2) 222. B. DIAS PALMEIRA, ‘O formalismo da poesia
homerica’. Humanitas N.S. 8/9, 1959-60, 171. W. WHALLON, ‘The Homeric Epithets’. Yale
Class. Stud. 17, 1961, 95. See also the works earlier cited (p. 37 ff.) on oral poetry.
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 THE HOMERIC EPIC

sacrifice, warriors arming, ships setting sail and the like.!

That these elements are important does not mean that they are all-important.
It is wrong to look on Homeric poetry as a cento of formulae, or to think that
these are component elements in the same way as individual words are in
modern poetry.
Any assessment of the formulaic elements which considered simply their
technical aspect would go only halfway to understanding them. The perpetual
epithet and the stock scene make what is important and valuable stand out from
the repetition of what is the same: and thus help effectively to build up the
picture of a world in which men and things have their appointed place. More-
over, these elements are used in very different ways. Often they are formulae
and nothing more: a ship is ‘swift-sailing’ even when it is hauled up on the
beach (JI. 1. 421), Achilles is ‘fleet-footed’ when he is sitting in his chair (16. 5).
This adds nothing to the sense, but it is not of course nonsense to mention a man
together with a quality inseparably attached to him. In other places these
traditional elements receive the breath of life: as Achilles draws near to Hector
and puts him to flight by his appearance, he is given the epithet ‘monstrous’;
when Polydamas takes the field, he is the ‘lance-shaking Polydamas’ (14. 449),
but when he gives the right advice (18. 249), he is the ‘sage Polydamas’; when
Odysseus’ crew bend to their oars, an often repeated verse gives the epithet
‘grey-white foaming sea’. As for the stock scene, we may note the elaborate
description of the smooth return voyage in I/. 1. 477 after Apollo has been
placated: it is in striking contrast at once with the outward voyage, in which
the landing at Chryse is the only point emphasized, and with the immediately
following scene of Achilles’ anger.
In so saying, we have already committed ourselves in regard to a question
which has become more important lately. Those who reckon the Homeric
poems as pure ‘oral composition’ have drawn the conclusion that the use of
formulaic elements is to be explained on purely technical grounds, and that
interpretations which appeal to literary judgment are an illegitimate application
of modern standards.? As the author does not accept the view that the Homeric
poems had a purely oral composition, he rejects this interpretation. We must
never forget how much free and original poetry there is in both the Iliad
and the Odyssey, apart from traditional formulae. It is where his creation is
relatively free of the traditional that we most catch the tones of his voice; as in
the first and last books of the Iliad, and where his similes give us pictures of his
own world.3 To evaluate the findings of Parry and his school it is high time

! w. AREND, Die typischen Szenen bei Homer. Problemata 7. Berl. 1933. On the battle-
scenes: G. STRASBURGER, Die kleinen Kampfer der Ilias. Diss. Frankf.a.M. 1954. W. H. FRIED~
RICH, Verwundung und Tod in der Ilias. Abh. Ak. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 3. F. 38, 1956.
2 A vigorous exponent of this view is F. M. COMBELLACK, ‘Milman Parry and Homeric
artistry’. Comparative Literature 11, 1959, 193. For a different view: R. SPIEKER, Die Nachrufe
in der Ilias. Diss. Miinster 1958. Both he and Cc. H. WHITMAN (sup. p. 53, n. 2), go too far
in detecting artistry and symbolism. Both extremes should be avoided.
3 In this connection the researches of G. Pp. sHIpP (Studies in the Language of Homer. Cam-
bridge 1953) deserve attention.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

that we considered not only what we have learned about the formulaic element
in Homer, but also those parts which are outside the sphere of the formula.
The double aspect of Homeric poetry is visible also in the language. Beside
the old and the traditional we find a fresh immediacy, a springlike abundance,
a magic that is always new. The day of abstraction has not yet dawned: the
Homeric way of seeing and describing the world is the gift of an age in which,
to use Victor Hehn’s expression, none of the qualities which determine general
concepts had become isolated and hardened. Two examples are enough to
illustrate this lively response to the impressions of the senses: in Homeric
language there are nine verbs meaning ‘to see’; their nuances range from merely
catching sight to deliberate scrutiny.! Secondly the richness of vocabulary to
describe the sea: the limitless plain, the watery path, the salt flood foaming on
the beach.?
All that we have said of the language applies with special force to the similes.
In them the poet opens the frontiers of the ‘heroic’ world to admit the whole
fullness of the world in which he himself lived. The similes do not exist simply
to point out one basis of comparison: they create many correspondences, include
a brilliant wealth of detail, and give depth and colouring to the action they
describe. They have a life of their own. They reflect the Greek attitude to the
world in laying bare the essential qualities of things. This double aspect becomes
apparent in their linguistic form, passing over readily from comparative to
independent clauses.
There is an obvious difference between the Iliad and Odyssey in respect of
similes. The later poem is more sparing of them, and the poet more often takes
his comparison from the familiar world of everyday life, while in the Iliad the
similes reflect a broader reaction to the world of nature and its elemental
powers.
The epic style is consistent in avoiding banality, although the Odyssey is in
closer contact with the earthiness of life, as in the fight between the two beggars,
or the simile of the blood-pudding (20. 25). Sentimentality also is absent.
Even so moving a scene as that with the dog Argus proceeds by simple factual
narrative.
There are considerable variations in the tempo of narration. The uniform
flow characteristic of epic style is not always present. Rapid development of
* BRUNO SNELL, ‘Die Auffassung des Menschen bei Homer’ in Die Entdeckung des Geistes.
3rd ed. Hamburg 1955, 17 (Eng. ed. p. 14).
2 A. LESKY, Thalatta. Vienna 1947, 8.
3-H. FRANKEL, Die homerischen Gleichnisse. Gdttingen 1921. W. SCHADEWALDT, ‘Die
homerische Gleichniswelt und die kretisch-mykenische Kunst’ in Von Homers Welt und
Werk. 3rd ed. Stuttg. 1959, 130. R. HAMPE, Die Gleichnisse Homers und die Bildkunst seiner
Zeit. Tiibingen 1952. J. A. NOTOPULOS, ‘Homeric Similes in the Light of Oral Poetry’.
Class. Journ. 52, 1957, 312. M. COFFEY, ‘The Function of the Homeric Simile’. Am. Journ.
Phil. 78, 1957, 113. Against Frankel, who stressed the functional character of the simile,
JACHMANN (sup. p. 34, n. I) p. 222 brings the tertium comparationis into the foreground
again. On p. 220 he objects (not unreasonably, to my mind) to the ready postulation of a
close affinity between Homeric similes and Geometric art. On this subject see T. B. L.
WEBSTER, ‘Homer and Attic Geometric Vases’. Ann. Brit. School Ath. so, 1955, 38.

64
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
situation, as in the opening of the Iliad, alternates with endless series of single
combats (in which we catch the tone of the old aoidoi) and long descriptive
catalogues.
Another feature in which we detect the interplay of the individual and the
traditional is the frequency of speeches, which take up so much of the poem that
Plato, in the third book of the Republic, reckons epic as a mixed literary form
halfway between narrative and drama. The large part played by speeches is an
inheritance from the old oral epic. Another archaic feature is ‘ ring composition’,
which brings the speech ultimately back to the theme with which it began. An
elaborate specimen of this (noticed by ancient critics, cf. schol. Il. 11. 671) is
Nestor’s account of the battle with the Epeans. But at the same time the speeches
illustrate a new technique — that of making the speech appear to come naturally
and necessarily from the character of the speaker. This ‘ethopoeia’, as it was
later called in the rhetorical schools where it was taught, is already completely
mastered in our earliest surviving poem. The technique reaches its height in the
triptych of speeches from the ambassadors in the ninth book of the Iliad. The
differentiation of the speeches, the speakers and the listener, the range of tones —
all shows the poet’s art at its height. In its compass and its subject matter it is the
middle one which bears the main emphasis — a principle of composition which
can be seen at work elsewhere in the Iliad.

8 GODS AND MEN

The gods of the Homeric pantheon have a long history behind them before they
form that society which has its difficult moments in the Iliad (although it goes
smoothly enough in the Odyssey). Nilsson’s view that the position of the
Mycenaean overlord may have provided the model for their relations one to
another has much to recommend it: the influence of the east, however, cannot
be disregarded, where rather similar societies of gods occur long before Homer.
So much has been said of anthropomorphism in Homer’s gods that there is
sometimes a danger of forgetting the great gulf which divides them from men.
This does not only consist in their immortality, but in that notion of super-
natural power associated with them, which puts their activities under a law of
their own.3 Homeric belief extended to an impersonal fate, sometimes on a
level with the gods, sometimes above them: a fate by which the lot (aiva,

' w. A.A. VAN OTTERLO, ‘De ringcompositie als opbouwprincipe in de epische gedichten
van Homerus’. Nederl. Akad. Afd. Letterkunde 51, 1, 1948.
2 J. L. MYRES, ‘Homeric Art’. Ann. Brit. School Ath. 45, 1950, 229.
3 B. EHNMARK, The Idea ofGod in Homer. Uppsala 1935. H. SCHRADE, Gotter und Menschen
Homers. Stuttg. 1952 — a justified but rather one-sided reaction against classicism: see the
review by W. MARG, Gnom. 28, 1956, I. P. CHANTRAINE, ‘Le Divin et les dieux chez Homére’
in Fondation Hardt, Entretiens I. Vandceuvres (Geneva) 1954, 47. W. KULLMANN, Das Wirken
der Gotter in der Ilias. Berl. 1956. G. FRANGOIS, Le Polythéisme et l'emploi au singulier des mots
cds, Satuwy. Bibl. fac. de philos. et lettres de Univ. Liége 147. Paris 1957. H. STOCKINGER,
Die Vorzeichen im homerischen Epos. Diss. Munich. St Ottilien Obb. 1959. W. K. C. GUTHRIE,
‘The Religion and Mythology of the Greeks’. Cambr. Anc. Hist. revised ed. vol. 2, c. 40.
Cambr. 1961 (with bibliography).
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potpa) of the individual is determined.’ Here we have a juxtaposition of two

ways of thought, between which no logical reconciliation is possible. In the
opening of the Iliad we are told that the will of Zeus was fulfilled in the events
to be related: the same Zeus in 16. 458 cannot save his son Sarpedon from the
decree of fate, even if he momentarily-thinks of doing so. In those two scenes
also where Zeus takes up the balance (8. 69; 22. 209) it is impossible to explain
away the conflict of the two beliefs by trying to turn the weighing of the lots
into an expression of the will of Zeus. But in Homer this notion of fate does not
lead to a rigid determinism. Not only does Zeus think of saving Sarpedon, but
even human beings are spoken of either actually or potentially as doing or
suffering something beyond their fate (i7ép aloav, dep popov). The fluidity of
the boundaries of these two conceptions is clearly shown in 20. 30, where
Zeus expresses fear lest Achilles should break down the walls of Troy contrary
to fate.
It has been a mistake of modern critics to relegate the action of the Homeric
gods to the level of an aesthetic and literary device. They form in fact a loose
system of powerful fields of force, in which the life of man is wholly subsumed.
The question of the relation between gods and men is central in the world of
Homer. The poet, instructed by the Muses, is well able to speak on the subject,
although his actors seldom speak of the gods with anything like clarity.
The relations of these gods to men cannot be conveyed in one or two ethical
or religious formulae. The greatest diversity reigns here also, and the strong
will of these Olympian masters is often their ultimate law. So as not to impose
a forcible simplification, we shall deal with gods and men in their mutual
relations by means of three antinomies.
The first pair of opposites is distance and nearness. The gods often and in
various ways enter into relations with men. Zeus sends messengers or signs;
other gods put on human form, which they sometimes wear only as a loose
garment. Whenever they wish, they approach their favourites without any
such disguise. When Diomede in the middle of his exploits is in need of encour-
agement, standing as he does by his team with his wound growing cold, Athene
comes to him and “grasps the yoke’, which can only mean that she leans on it
supporting herself with her arm. The attitude of easy familiarity is consonant
with her speech, which begins with stinging rebuke but ends by heartening him
with the promise of help. But this familiarity is nowhere more strikingly dis-
played than in the scene in the thirteenth book of the Odyssey where the goddess
comes up to the recently awakened Odysseus. She appears first as a slender
young shepherd lad from the royal house — one immediately thinks of the
Athene of Myron — and listens in amusement to the tissue oflies that the crafty
wanderer tells her. Then she reveals herself, silences the hero’s modest reproach
that she should have left him so long to fend for himself, helps him to bury the

1 w. C. GREENE, Moira. Cambr. Mass. 1944. W. KRAUSE, ‘Zeus und Moira bei Homer’.
Wien. Stud. 64, 1949, 10. U. BIANCHI, AIOX AIZA. Rome 1953. A. HEUBECK, Der Odyssee-
Dichter und die Ilias. Erlangen 1954, 72. W. POTSCHER, ‘Moira, Themis und Tuy im homer-
ischen Denken’. Wien. Stud. 73, 1960, 5.
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treasure he has brought with him, and finally sits down with him, man and
goddess together, under an olive tree to make plans for the future. When a man
is thought worthy of such honour, it is expected that he will know his place
and keep it. At the beginning of the nineteenth book Odysseus and his son are
concealing the weapons from the hall. Without showing herself, Athene sheds
light upon them, and a boundless radiance is diffused over beams and pillars.
Odysseus checks his son’s curious enquiries by telling him that the Olympians
have their own ways of working.
The counterpart to this familiar nearness is the unbridgeable distance to which
the gods are ready at any moment to relegate mortals. The god who for the
later Greeks remained the great teacher of reverence, whose maxim, ‘Know
Thyself’, reminded them of the inescapable limits of human existence, appears
in this role in a scene from the aristeia of Diomede.! Three times has the hero
attacked Aeneas, over whom Apollo holds a protecting hand; three times does
Apollo thrust him back: the fourth time? he calls to him and says, ‘Come to
your senses and give up! The human race cannot equal the immortal gods’
(s. 440). The hero yields and retreats a little — a significant concession in that
heroic world. This other side of the divine nature is nowhere in Greek literature
so fully brought out as it is in Hélderlin’s Hyperions Schicksalslied. In the Iliad it
constantly recurs and throws a tragic colouring over the whole of human
existence, which for all its richness and variety stands at the last under sentence
of death. Hephaestus speaks (1. 573) of the folly of gods’ conflicting over
mortals: but he himself earns a like rebuke from Athene for his heated inter-
change with Scamander. When in the battle of the gods Apollo meets Poseidon
(21. 461), he refuses to fight with another god for the sake of wretched mortals.
The other gods are ready enough to take part, but it is simply as a wild frolic,
underlining again the great gulf between them and men. In the same book we
find the episode of Lycaon, which brings out strongly the notion of inevitable
doom. The young warrior pleads for his life, but Achilles is obdurate. His
beloved Patroclus is no more — and in any case, why such anxiety for life?
‘You see how I stand before you, tall and strong, a goddess’ son. And yet there
waits for me an hour, be it morning, noon or evening, which shall take away
my life (106).’ On hearing these words, Lycaon sinks to the ground and opens
his arms to death. Where the gods take part, they do so almost jokingly. Hera
laughs as she breaks Artemis’ bow about her ears (489), while the father of the
gods sits on Olympus and smiles at the comedy of the battle. Yet this very same
Zeus in 17. 443 pities the immortal horses for their being involved in the fate of

t The Apollo of the Iliad is already the lord of Delphi, but his central importance was to
come later. His oracle is mentioned in Od. 8. 79, its treasures in I]. 9. 904. In both we hear
of the ‘stone sill’, but we cannot tell whether it is that of the temenos or of the temple.
JEAN DEFRADAS, Les Thémes de la propagande delphique. Etudes et comment. 21. Paris 1954,
gives too late a date to the installation of Apollo in Delphi; he is rightly opposed by H.
BERVE in Gnomon 28, 1956, 176, who supposes that it was completed before the seventh
century.
2 On 3 and 3+1 see F. GOBEL, ‘Formen und Formeln der epischen Dreiheit in der griech-
ischen Dichtung, Tiib. Beitr. 26, 1935.
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men, of the most wretched creatures that crawl upon the earth. This tone
occurs only in the Iliad: in the Odyssey men know how far below the gods they
are and how subject to their power (16. 211; 18. 130; 19. 80). They are, on the
other hand, more long-suffering, more able and determined to keep their heads
above a sea of troubles. The gods of the Odyssey are more closely bound to
moral values.
Closely connected with the first is the second of our antinomies: kindness and
cruelty. The gods show kindness to their favourites, particularly in the Iliad,
with some capriciousness. The nature of Homer’s gods comes out clearly in
Athene’s action when she gives a harmless direction to the arrow of Pandarus
(4. 130) as easily as a mother brushes away a fly from a sleeping child. When
Diomede is driving his chariot, she picks up for him the whip which Apollo had
struck from his hand. But this kindness and help shown by Athene towards her
favourites has a reverse side of pitiless cruelty to those she hates. Nowhere do
we feel this more strongly than in the death of Hector, who is delivered up to
the sword of Achilles by her deceit and treachery. The behaviour when angered
of a goddess like Aphrodite, who is still felt as an elemental force, the fire that
can flash from her when a mortal opposes her will, is shown in a scene of true
tragedy at the end of the third book of the Iliad.! Aphrodite has snatched Paris
from the wrath of Menelaus and taken him back to his chamber, where she
now, true to her function, wants Helen to join him. Helen, however, is un-
willing to give herself again to the lesser man. The goddess flames into fury,
and threatens the mortal woman so angrily that she follows without a word
where she is led by the goddess (8a/uwv is Homer’s word).
If we take as the third of our antinomies justice and self-will, we come
straight to the central question of the morality of Homer’s gods.? Here the
Iliad and Odyssey diverge sharply. The decisive importance of the unqualified
will of the gods comes out clearly in the dispute among the gods at the beginning
of book 4. Zeus rebukes Hera for her hatred of the Trojans: she would like to
eat Priam and the Trojans raw. In reply she attempts no denial: she merely tells
Zeus that he may destroy Argos, Sparta and Mycenae if he likes, the cities which
she loves above all, if only he will let her have her way with the hated Trojans.
Scholars have repeatedly sought some explanation of such an amoral attitude,
referring it sometimes to the supposed origin of the Homeric gods as forces of
nature. This view is not convincing. Neither is the derivation in itself wholly
satisfactory, nor are we in Homer’s world near enough to the presumed origin.
In any case, it is better not to leap to an evolutionary explanation, postulating
incomplete development in Homer’s day. In these gods who pursue what they
* Well brought out by w. BuRKERT, ‘Das Lied von Ares und Aphrodite’. Rhein. Mus.
103, 1960, I41.
2 ERIK WOLF, Griech. Rechtsdenken I. Frankf.a.M. 1950, 70. M. P. NILSSON, ‘Die Griechen-
gotter und die Gerechtigkeit’. Harv. Theol. Rev. 50, 1957, 193. M. S. RUIPEREZ, ‘Historia
de 6€u1s en Homero’. Emérita 28, 1960, 99. We may add ERIC VOEGLIN’S analysis (from
the viewpoint of the history of philosophy): The World of the Polis. Order and History I.
Louisiana 1957.
3 W. K. C. GUTHRIE, The Greeks and their Gods. Boston 1951, 117.
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want by violence and fraud, whose love-relations are wholly promiscuous, and
whose feuds and factions find a temporary truce at the banqueting table, we
may with some probability discern features of the feudal nobility who ruled
Homer’s world.
It would be wrong to suppose that this amorality of the gods was a reflection
of the eighth century in general. The Iliad itself counters such a view in one of
those similes which bring Homer’s own world into his poetry. ‘A cry from the
deep’ is what Nilsson calls it.1 The simile (16. 386) is of a storm of rain which
Zeus in his anger sends upon men who give perverse judgments in the market-
place, who drive out justice, and do not fear the eyes of the gods upon them.
The passage is entirely in the manner of Hesiod, and it would pass without
notice in the Odyssey, where we find the opposite picture of the virtuous king,
in whose land prosperity and plenty reign (19. 109). But is the simile referring
to a god of righteousness wholly isolated in the Iliad? Does not the poet, within
that short space of time in which he has framed the whole Trojan war, show the
guilt of Troy as being renewed? The truce so solemnly sworn is violated by
Pandarus, and scattered references (7. 351; 401) show that this deed has sealed
the doom of Troy. Already by his sin Paris had brought down the wrath of the
greatest of Gods upon the city (13. 623). Admittedly these sins were against
hospitality and the sanctity of oaths, two spheres in which Zeus had always
held sway.
It is undeniable that in the Odyssey the notion of morally directed action on
the part of the gods is much more developed.” The most striking passage comes
at the beginning, where Zeus condemns those men who ascribe their sufferings
to the gods, and yet, like Aegisthus, pull them down on their own heads.
Aegisthus was warned by Hermes, just as the suitors are repeatedly warned in
the course of the action. The result is that the poem as a whole becomes a moral
paradigm, and as such is sharply distinguished from the dark and tragic tone of
the Iliad, where all ends in annihilation. At the end of the Odyssey (24. 351)
Laertes declares: The gods yet live; for the suitors have indeed paid for their
intolerable sins. Similarly the shipmates of Odysseus received their warnings,
but earned death for their hybris. There are many detached incidents in the
Odyssey pointing in the same direction. Ilus is hesitant to give poison for the
tipping of arrows, since he fears the gods (1. 262); Zeus gives the Argives an
evil homecoming, for they were not all wise or righteous (3. 132); we are told
in a beautiful line (6. 207; 14. 57) that the guest and the beggar are from Zeus,
and in 17. 485 we learn that the gods love to visit the cities of mortals, taking on
human form, to learn who is righteous and who sinful. These are very different
gods from those Olympians who quarrel and fight one with another; and their
mutual relations are different. Poseidon certainly stands out against the other
gods; but how civilized their disagreement is! How courteously Athene holds
1 Gesch. d. griech. Religion 1, 2nd ed. 1955, 421. As a model for Hesiod Erga 221: w.
SCHADEWALDT, Iliasstudien. Leipz. 1938, 118, 1; a different view: Walter Nestle, Herm. 77,
1942, 65, 2.
2 Well brought out by REINHARDT op. cit. (sup., p. 48, n. 1).
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

back from her favourite as long as Poseidon has a claim on him! The human
actors also are more subject to that moral restraint which the Greeks called
aidos. In the hall yet reeking with the blood of the suitors Euryclea raises a cry
of triumph; but Odysseus checks her, saying that it is sinful to exult over the
slain (24. 412). Here we have a sharp contrast to the paean that Achilles raises
over the corpse of Hector. But we should not forget that there also (24. 53),
when Achilles’ revenge passes all bounds, Apollo warns him that by such
behaviour, for all his bravery, he will earn the hatred of the gods.
These differences can only in very small part be explained by the difference
in date of the two poems. The decisive factor seems to us the following: while
in the Iliad we have the reflection of a compact and exclusive noble class, the
social range of the Odyssey is much wider. In the later work epic poetry had
opened its doors to the wishes and beliefs of classes whom the Iliad excluded.!
It should also not be forgotten that many of these differences arise from difter-
ences in subject matter. We expressed agreement earlier (p. 48) with the view
that the Odyssey is from a different hand.
Throughout the Homeric poems we never find it forgotten that man stands
in strict subordination. This conception is conveyed by the word 6éurs which
has a wide range of meanings. It can denote the power given by Zeus to kings,
by which they declare right and justice; it can also mean everything that
becomes obligatory on men through the bonds of nature or usage. It can also
refer to the commerce of the sexes (Il. 9. 276; 19. 177). The powers that be come
always from God. Themis herself dwells as a goddess in Olympus, summons the
assembly at Zeus’ command (II. 20. 4) or offers the cup of welcome to Hera
(1145.87):
As W. F. Otto has pointed out in his book Die Gétter Griechenlands,? this
world of the gods is bathed in a clear sunshine like that of the Greek landscape.
One might be justified in tempering this picture by reference to the daemonic
and elemental force that sometimes flashes forth from these supernatural beings;
but we should then be adding detail, not altering the main lines. We may add
that crass superstition and the practice of magic, if not wholly banished from
this world, are removed very far into the background. In the story of the death
of Meleager through his mother’s anger the magical brand of the old tale is
replaced by a curse, more appropriate to the dignity of epic;+ the custom of
increasing the fertility of a sown field by sexual intercourse on it is reflected only
in a story about Demeter (Od. 5. 125); violations of the laws of nature occur
only in unimportant parts of the narrative: all these features show the spirit of
a type of poetry that belonged essentially to the courts of the great and was
powerfully influenced by the spirit of Ionian culture.
The qualities of Homeric man ~ his simplicity and compactness, his unqualified

" F. JACOBY, ‘Die geistige Physiognomie der Odyssee’. Die Antike 9, 1953, 159. WALTER
NESTLE, ‘Odyssee-Interpretationen’. Herm. 77, 1942, 46 and 113 and esp. 136. M. J. FINLEY,
The World of Odysseus. Lond. 1956. 2 3rd ed. Frankf.a.M. 1947.
* Pointed out by H. sCHRADE op. cit., but with too much emphasis here and there.
4 First demonstrated by p. J. KAKRIDIS in his book ’Apad, Athens 1929.
70
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

acceptance of all the powers around him ~ have been eloquently expounded by
Hermann Frankel.t The new and different elements in the Odyssey should not
be so overstated that we differentiate its actors from those of the Iliad as being
less transparent, less open to the outside world. But we cannot fail to recognize
new colourings: above all, the potentialities of psychology are more deeply
explored. The most impressive example is the delicacy with which Nausicaa’s
budding attraction towards the stranger is hinted at rather than stated. The
scenes of their encounter and parting are the more effective as love between the
sexes is not elsewhere in the poem an independent theme. Everyone knows how
Goethe was inspired by this episode to write his drama of Nausicaa. With the
utmost economy of means the poet of the Odyssey heightens the emotional
content of the episode of Calypso. Visited by Hermes, the nymph has received
the command of the gods which will mean the loss of her lover and a renewed
solitude. She must obey, but she wants Odysseus to receive as a favour from her
what is in fact a concession from the Olympians. Accordingly she does not tell
him of the command and of Hermes’ visit. Homer says nothing of all this, but
how relevant is the detail (5. 195) that in the nymph’s cave Odysseus sits down
on the same seat from which Hermes had just arisen!
A problem of central importance is raised when we try to reach some con-
clusion about Homer’s notions of the soul. Homeric Greek knows no word
fully corresponding to our word ‘soul’. That which is meant by fvy7 makes its
appearance above all at the death of a man, when the breath-soul or shadow-
soul quits the dying body to lead a wretched life amid the mould of Hades. In
the living man the psyche is the basis of all thoughts and desires, but of its
nature and operation we know virtually nothing. We tend to see instead
particular aspects, which have been called with some exaggeration ‘organs of
the soul’: @upds, concerned especially with the emotions (e.g. it overcomes
Achilles’ judgment); deny, the midriff as the seat of intellectual activity, hence
intellectual activity itself; vos, imagination, conception.?
The use of these terms cannot be systematized, since none of them has a
clearly defined sphere of application. Mental life may be referred to paratacti-
cally by the phrase xara dpéva Kal kara bupdv; yet in Od. 5. 458, when the hero
awakes from a swoon, we are told, és dpéva Oupos ayéepOn; and a change of mind
is oddly expressed in Od. 9. 302 by the words €repos 5€ pre Oujids Epuxev. A parallel
has been drawn between these expressions for ‘soul’ and those which Homer's
characters apply to the body. The later word for body (o@pa) means in Homer
‘corpse’:3 in the living man we find only partial aspects denoted — trunk, limbs,

1 107 ff.
2 B. SNELL, Die Entdeckung des Geistes. 3rd ed. Hamburg 1955, 17. O. REGENBOGEN, ‘Aa
udviov puyas das (Erwin Rohdes Psyche und die neuere Kritik). Ein Beitrag zum hom.
Seelenglauben.’ Synopsis. Festgabe fiir A. Weber. Heidelberg 1948, 361. R. B. ONIANS, The
Origins of European Thought. Cambr. 1951, gives plenty of material, but his conclusions are
often rather doubtful. £. 1. HARRISON, ‘Notes on Homeric Psychology’. Phoenix 14, 1960,
63, with illustrations which show the fluidity of the conception.
3 H. HERTER, ‘Lapa bei Homer’. Charites (Festschr. Langlotz). Bonn 1957, 206, draws
attention to a probable exception (II. 3. 23); cf. H. KOLLER, Glotta 37, 1958, 276.
71
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

head. Snell has the chief credit for this observation, which is an important one;
but we should not leap to the conclusion that Homer’s world did not see any
person as a complete entity. In fact the characters in his poetry possess individual
personality in a high degree: otherwise they would not have made an impression
lasting three thousand years. Man was felt as a whole, immediately and intuitively
understood at the mention of any part. When Odysseus at the beginning of
book 20 commands his ‘barking heart’ to be still, the heart is treated like a
bodily member giving pain. But that which compels it to be silent, Odysseus, is
an undivided whole. It is the same Odysseus who in the Iliad (11. 402) rallies his
failing courage by the consciousness of his duty. Partial aspects do appear, but
they are subordinated to the personality of the man as a whole, which always
underlies the parts and guarantees them their existence and meaning.
This question of awareness of personality is tied up with another: to what
extent do these characters arrive at decisions that are their own and their own
responsibility?! Human behaviour is so interpenetrated by constant divine inter-
vention that Homer’s characters have sometimes been thought to have no power
of decision at all, and his poetry has been charged with forgetting that decisions,
indeed all mental activity, are rooted in man himself. What Homer’s men do is
activated by the gods.
In answering this difficulty we must first point out that genuine decisions,
without divine prompting, do occur, like that of Odysseus (6. 145) on the way
in which to secure Nausicaa’s help. But what of those numerous cases in which a
god suggests or restrains or inspires? Is the man in such cases simply a marionette
actuated by the god? Such an interpretation would show a total failure to under-
stand the Homeric world. If we formulate the question so as to leave no middle
ground between human beings acting in their own right and gods pulling the
strings of puppets, we miss the real point. Human will and divine purpose are
in fact closely interwoven: they have an inner bond such that any attempt on
grounds of pure logic to separate them tears asunder the unity of the Homeric
world-picture. When Achilles returns to its scabbard the sword which he had
half drawn against Agamemnon, he does it on the advice of Athene; but at the
same time he does it in his own right as Achilles, that Achilles who flames into
anger, but holds back from the extreme step. In the same way his last and
greatest victory, victory over his own passionate heart, belongs at once to
the gods who intervene on behalf of the slain Hector and to Achilles himself,
who raises the old man from the ground, mingling his tears with those of his
enemy. Divine command and human action, which are seen unmistakeably in
the essence of these characters, appear as two spheres which complement each
* H. GUNDERT, ‘Charakter und Schicksal hom. Helden’. N. Jahrb. 1940, 225. H. RAHN,
‘Tier und Mensch in der hom. Auffassung der Wirklichkeit’. Paideuma 1953, 277 and:.A30.
K. LANIG, Der handelnde Mensch in der Ilias. Diss. Erlangen 1953. A. HEUBECK (cf. p. 48, n. 1),
80. H. SCHWABL, ‘Zur Selbstandigkeit des Menschen bei Homer’. Wien. Stud. 67, 1954, 46.
E. WUsT, ‘Von den Anfangen des Problems der Willensfreiheit’. Rhein. Mus. tor, 1958, 75.
A. LESKY, ‘Gottliche und menschliche Motivation im hom. Epos’. Sitzb. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-
hist. Kl. 1961, 4. Homeric comprehension of reality in verbal expression is examined by
M. TREU, Von Homer zur Lyrik. Zet. 12, Munich 1955.
72
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

other, but can yet come into conflict. Normally they are concurrent and share
any transaction in a way that forbids any attempt to isolate either. The inter-
relation of these two spheres in Homer’s world is quite unreflecting and poses
no problems. But it does not remain so. Later, especially in Attic tragedy, we
shall see the intensity of the problems that had their roots in this Homeric soil.
Here again there is a difference between the Iliad and the Odyssey, though not
a total change. In the later poem much more emphasis is on man acting on his
own decisions and taking responsibility for them. The suitors are not made
blind by divine agency; they wilfully blind themselves. The same may be said
of Odysseus’ shipmates when they kill the cattle of Helius, or of Aegisthus, of
whom Zeus speaks at the opening of the poem. Not only are the human actors
more independent, but also the gods; whose function now is often to warn and
watch over the virtuous. It is characteristic that there are five passages in the
Odyssey" in which it is discussed whether an impulse comes from the realm of
the gods or that of men, and only one to any extent comparable in the Iliad. We
catch the first glimpses of a road that leads through Hesiod to those problems
of dike which were to be central in Greek thought.

Q THE TRANSMISSION

We share with most scholars the view that the composition of the two epics
presupposes writing. In Homer’s time this must have been a recent invention.
Even if he was not the first epic poet to use writing, the peculiarities of his
manner and the number of oral elements support such a view. But it would be
wrong to regard this use of writing as initiating a written transmission, tied
wholly to books. Rather, it was for a long time in the hands of rhapsodes, who
were organized into guilds (often, no doubt, on a family basis). What we hear
of the Homeridae of Chios? is to be interpreted in this sense. Light is thrown on
the activity of these men by the tradition that Solon or Hipparchus3 the son of
Pisistratus arranged to have all the Homeric poems recited at the Panathenaea
by relays of rhapsodes.
The basis of all these recitations must have been a written copy, which we
may suppose to have been the valued possession of such a guild. Aelian (Var.
Hist. 9. 15) tells us that Homer gave the Cypria to his daughter as a dowry: a
statement absurd enough in itself, but indicating that the rhapsodes were
involved in the transmission of the text.
For the archaic period, then, we have to assume a mainly oral transmission
on the basis of a fixed written text. The accuracy of the recited text would thus
only be guaranteed within certain limits. The frequent recurrence of formulae
led to interchange of metrically equivalent words and phrases, and to additions
and omissions; and this factor must have had its influence. To some extent an
opposite influence would have been exerted by the schools as soon as Homer
became a principal object of study.
1 Od. 4. 712; 7. 2633 9- 339; 14. 178; 16. 356. Il. 6. 438.
2 4. T. WADE-GERY, The Poet of the Iliad. Cambr. 1952, 19. :
3 On these see J. D. BEAZLEY, Journ. Hell. Stud. 54, 1934, 84 after Friis Johansen.
73
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

We have already seen (p. 36) that the later reports of a Pisistratean recension
do not prove that the poems first took shape in his day. But on the other hand,
the complete recitations at the Panathenaea point to the importance of Athens
in the transmission, and it is possible that at the same time something was done
towards the fixing of the text. We must not forget that there are traces of a
stage where Attic influence was strongly felt. There is no reason to supposea
complete transcription into the Attic alphabet, since the Ionic alphabet was in
use side by side with the Attic long before its official introduction by Euclides
in 403. But Attic has left its mark in details, particularly in aspiration: thus
beside the un-Attic Aap we find in our Homer 77 with the rough breathing.
We must also bear in mind the possibility of Attic interpolation, although there
is no decisive evidence.
The exegesis of the epics soon became a battleground. Attacks on their
morality called forth an apologetic literature which understood them allegori-
cally. This movement began as early as the sixth century with Theagenes of
Rhegium, who seems to have been the first to write on Homer. It was con-
tinued by such men as Stesimbrotus of Thasos (fifth century), by Crates of
Mallos, head of the Pergamene school, in the second century, and persisted
through late antiquity until the time of Tzetzes.1 The sophistic movement also
saw studies on the language and interpretation. Democritus wrote On Homer, or
on Correctness of Language and Difficult Words (VS 68 B2oa); and from the
manner in which difficult passages are discussed by Aristotle we may infer a
long tradition of such studies.
Here again it was Alexandrian work that was decisive.” Three of the greatest
Alexandrian scholars devoted themselves to Homer: Zenodotus of Ephesus, the
first head of the great library (first half of the third century), Aristophanes of
Byzantium (c. 257-180) and Aristarchus of Samothrace (217-145). The last
named, in addition to special monographs, prepared two editions of the text
(such, at least, is Lehrs’ view, which has been widely accepted). Recently H.
Erbse has put forward a revolutionary theory which has great internal proba-
bility. He thinks that Aristarchus did not bring out an edition of the text in the
modern sense; he probably compared different manuscripts to check the

™ Pp. WEHRLI, Allegorische Deutung Homers. Diss. Basel 1928. For a more general treatment:
F. BUFFIERE, Les Mythes d’Homeére et la pensée grecque. Paris 1956. P. LEVEQUE, Aurea catena
Homeri. Une étude sur l’allégorie grecque. Ann. Litt. de Un. de Besancon 27, 1960.
2p. MAZON, Introduction a I’Iliade. Paris 1948, 17. V. STEGEMANN in the Tusculum-
Biicherei edition of the Iliad. Munich 1948, 2, 420. The vulgate is valued more highly by
M. VAN DER VALK, Textual Criticism of the Odyssey. Leyden 1949. A study of fundamental
importance is G. JACHMANN’S ‘Vom friihalexandrinischen Homertext’. Nachr. Ak. Gétt.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1949, 167. H. ERBSE, ‘Ueber Aristarchs Iliasausgaben’. Herm. 87, 1959, DTS.
His conclusions are broadly shared by J. A. DAVISON, ‘The Study of Homer in Graeco-
Roman Egypt’. Mitt. Pap. Rainer N.S. 5, 1956, §t. For a convenient summary see G. M.
BOLLING, The Athetized Lines of the Iliad. Baltimore 1944. On the indirect tradition: Te
LABARBE, L’Homere de Platon. Bibl. de la Fac. de Phil. et Lettres Liége. Fasc. 117, 1949} criti-
cized by G. LOHSE, Untersuchungen iiber Homerzitate bei Platon. Diss. Hamburg 1961 (type-
written). The collected fragments of Aristophanes of Byzantium were edited by NAUCK
(Halle 1948): a reprint by Olms is shortly forthcoming.
74
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

vulgate, and later published commentaries in which he presented his critical

proposals to the learned public with constant reference to the work of his
predecessors. Much of their work can be identified in the present scholia. Two
vexed problems illustrate their methods of work and the quality of their
editing.
The readings of the Alexandrians differ a good deal from the vulgate, which
the scholia call the “common tradition’ (1) «ow etc.). Did such men as Aris-
tarchus get their variants from conjecture or from comparison of what they
thought the best manuscripts? Inevitably the great collections of the Alex-
andrian library must have been the basis of their researches. They found a large
number of different texts, some (zoAcruxai) named after cities where they had
been edited for use in schools or for recitation at festivals, others (kar’ dvSpa) called
after a man in whose possession they were, who sometimes (like Antimachus of
Colophon) had contributed his own work to their preparation. We can suppose
that most of Aristarchus’ readings were obtained in this way, without ruling out
conjecture in individual cases.
The question how far this work in fact influenced the tradition could for a
long time only be decided on the basis of the medieval manuscripts and the
scholia.! Concerning Aristarchus, of whom we know the most, it can be estab-
lished that of 874 readings bearing his name only 80 appear in all our MSS., 160
in the majority of them, 76 in about half, 181 in a minority, 245 are very much
scattered and 132 occur nowhere. Such data do not suggest that Alexandrian
scholarship was widely influential. Yet this picture was misleading, as the
progress of papyrology has shown us.? Among the hundreds of fragments with
pieces from Homer the most interesting are of course those which come from
pre-Alexandrian texts, or at any rate from a time when Alexandrian influence
was very slight. They give a picture of a fluctuating transmission in which
differences from the post-Alexandrian texts consist not so much in alternative
readings as in the varying number of the verses. This uncertainty in transmission
is easily understandable in the hands of the rhapsodes; and it was here that the
critical work of the Alexandrians was of decisive importance for posterity. In
other words, apart from some miserable fragments, the Alexandrian text is as

* Outline with summary of the older literature: Pp. CAUER, Grundfragen der Homerkritik.
3rd ed. Leipz. 1921/23.
2 Given most fully in PACK; cf. P. COLLART, Les Papyrus de I’Iliade in MAZON’S Introduc-
tion (v. sup. p. 94, n. 2), with lists and index of variants. v. MARTIN, Papyrus Bodmer I. Iliade,
chants 5 et 6. Bibl. Bodmer 1954. Griech. Pap. der Hamb. Staats- und Univ.-Bibl. Hamb. 1954,
nr. 153 f. H.J.METTE, ‘Neue Homer-Papyri’. Rev. de Phil. 29, 1955, 193. Every new papyrus
publication brings new Homer-fragments, but most are of no interest; e.g. Pap. Soc. It. 14,
1957 has nine such. The oldest have been carefully examined by DARIO DEL CORNO, ‘I
papiri dell’ Iliade anteriori al 150 a. Chr.’ Ist. Lombardo. Rendiconti, Classe di Lettere 94, 1960,
73; id., ‘I papiri dell’ Odissea anteriori al 150 a. Chr.’ ibid. 95, 1961, 3. The papyrus material
is systematically treated from several different points of view by J. A. DAVISON in the book
cited above (p. 74, n. 2). There are small fragments of acommentary on the 17th book of
the Iliad in Ox. Pap. 24, 1957, nr. 2397; bits of a glossary on Iliad 1 ibid. nr. 2405. Good
summary and bibliography: AUG. TRAVERSA, ‘I papiri epici nell’ ultimo trentennio’. Proc.
of the IXth Intern. Congr. ofPapyrology. Norweg. Univ. Pr. 1961, 49.
75
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

far back as we can go. We can trust the judgment of the men on whom we are
so dependent. Concerning the way Aristarchus went to work we have some
useful information. He’struck out superfluous verses and thus removed them
for all time from the text, presumably doing so after carefully examining all the
evidence. This we can gather from his quite different practice in passages where
language or subject matter led him to doubt whether a verse was genuine.
There he was content to put a horizontal stroke as a critical sign (obelos). He
has earned our gratitude by not deleting such lines.
The Alexandrians defended and expounded their text in elaborate commen-
taries, often with a polemical tone, such as Aristarchus adopted against Zeno-
dotus. The mountain of scholarship thus built up gave scope for the mining
work of later generations. Exegetical works and lexica, of which the extant one
of Apollonius Sophistes' gives some idea, battened on the Alexandrian inherit-
ance. The last manifestations of such labours are the masses of scholia, either
marginal or interlinear, which go with the text in various manuscripts. The great
work of the Alexandrians is here covered by whole layers of accretions. The
task of sorting out this confused transmission is very hard, but recent years
have seen some successful attacks upon it.2 The most important scholia on the
Iliad, whose publication by C. d’Ansse de Villoison in 1788 opened a new
chapter in Homeric studies, are found in the Venetus 454 (A) of the tenth
century. In a subscription occurring at the end of most of the books the sources
of the principal scholia — those accompanying the text in the margin — are said
to be four scholars who were influential in transmitting Alexandrian learning to
posterity: Aristonicus, who lived under Augustus and wrote a book on the
critical signs used by Aristarchus; his contemporary Didymus, whose immense
industry won him the nickname of ‘Brass-guts’ (Chalcenterus), and who
devoted one of his many Homeric studies to the work of Aristarchus; Herodian,
who lived under Marcus Aurelius and wrote a general treatise on prosody in
which he also discussed Homeric accentuation, and his contemporary Nicanor,
who wrote on the punctuation of Homer. The commentaries of these four men,
written from such differing standpoints, were put together into a single volume
by an unknown hand (possibly one Nemesion). The use of scissors and paste on
this work produced the marginal glosses of the so-called ‘four-man commen-
tary’, from which most of the A-scholia are derived; but when the selection
was made is a problem in itself. Evidence has recently been brought to suggest
that it was made in the Byzantine period on the basis of an uncial codex which
preserved the work of the four men through the Dark Age. The scholia which

' H. GATTIKER, Das Verhdltnis des Homerlexikons des Apoll. Soph. zu den Homerscholien.
Ziirich 1945. F. MARTINAZZOLI, Hapax Legomenon 1/2. Il Lexicon Homericum di Ap. Sof.
Bari 1957.
7-H. ERBSE, ‘Zur handschriftlichen Ueberlieferung der Iliasscholien’. Mnem. s. IV, 6,
1953, 1. Id., Beitrdge zur Ueberlieferung der Iliasscholien. Zet. 24, 1960, a most devoted monu-
ment of learned labour on the tradition of the scholia and their connection with ancient
works of grammar and lexicography. Cf. w. BUHLER, Byz. Zeitschr. 54, 1961, 117. A very
useful work is J. BAAR’s Index zu den Ilias-Scholien. Deutsche Beitr. z. Altertumstw. 15. Baden-
Baden 1961.
76
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

we find in the Venetus A between the main scholia and the text and between
the lines of the text seem to come from the same source. While in the scholia of
this manuscript the emphasis is mostly textual rather than exegetical, the reverse
is true of the scholia to Venetus 453 (B) of the eleventh century and B.M.
Townley 86 (T, dated rosg). At least three ancient Homer-commentaries were
the basis of this compilation. How far they may be derived from the Pergamene
school can only be conjectured. The existence of other remains of ancient
exegesis in the middle ages is attested by the scholia to Genaviensis 44 (G) of the
thirteenth century on the 21st book of the Iliad, which show resemblances to
Pap. Oxyr. 2. 221 (nr. 942 P.). We need not concern ourselves much with the
smaller scholia formerly known as the Didymus-scholia: they are also of ancient
origin, as the papyri have shown, and are mostly explanations of single words.
The remains of ancient work on the Odyssey (principally in the two manu-
scripts Harley 5674 (H) and Venetus 613 (M), both of the 13th century) are
fewer than on the Iliad. Presumably scholars in antiquity concerned themselves
more with the greater of the two epics. An indication of its higher esteem is
found in the Platonic Hippias (363b), where the Iliad is said to excel the Odyssey
as much as Achilles excels Odysseus.
In the commentary on the two poems compiled by Eustathius, archbishop of
Thessalonica from 1175, a good deal of ancient criticism and exegesis survives,
embedded in a prolix exposition.2 The work of the four men was known to
him through the commentary of Apion and Herodorus.
In speaking of the scholia we have already mentioned the principal manu-
scripts. It may be added that the Venetus A of the Iliad was acquired by Cardinal
Bessarion from Joannes Aurispa, and that Severyns3 thinks it was written for
Arethas of Caesarea.
There are very many manuscripts of the Iliad: Allen reckons 188, but his list
is not likely to be complete. We have rather less than half as many for the
Odyssey: among them we may mention the two Laurentiani of the tenth century,
32, 24 (G) and Abbat. 52 (F), and the Palatinus Heidelb. 45 (P), dated 1201.
We have already noticed that our manuscript tradition is not purely the text
of the Alexandrians. Yet at the same time it is not that which the ancients called
the vulgate. Rather, we find a number of floating variants in a very scattered
distribution. To a large extent they are the same variants which we now find
in the Homeric papyri, although differently distributed. In these circumstances it
is impossible to arrive at a clear family-tree of the manuscripts. The reason lies
in the copiousness of the transmission. Unlike the other poets, who mostly
survived the critical centuries from the seventh to the ninth in a single uncial
codex, Homer seems to have come through that period in several manuscripts.

1 H. GATTIKER (v. p. 76, n. I).

2 Stallbaum’s edition in seven volumes with index by M. Devarius (Leipzig 1826-30) is
about to be reprinted by Olms of Hildesheim.
3 ‘De nouveau sur le Venetus d’Homére’. La Nouvelle Clio 3, 1951, 164; but cf. H.
ERBSE, Zet. 24, 1960, 123 and D. MERVYN JONES, Gnom. 33, 1961, 18. A splendid photo-
graphic facsimile of the MS. by Sijthoff, Leyden 1901.
D 77
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Consequently, when letters revived in Byzantium there were different threads

of tradition which later became variously entangled.
The oldest edition of Homer is that of Demetrius Chalcondyles (Florence
1488). The Aldine followed in 1504. We cannot here trace the history of the
editing of Homer: we can only mention work that is recent or of practical
importance. The most convenient complete edition with critical apparatus is
that of D. B. Monro and T. W. Allen for the Iliad (3rd ed. Oxf. 1920), and of
T. W. Allen for the Odyssey (and ed. Oxf. 1917-19), each in two volumes. A
fifth volume (Oxf. 1912, with corrections 1946) contains the hymns, the
fragments of the Margites, the Batrachomyomachia and the lives. Both the epics,
with texts by E. Schwartz, tr. by J. H. Voss (Iliad rev. by H. Rupe, Odyssey by
E. R. Weiss), ed. Br. Snell, Berlin-Darmstadt 1956. The Iliad, in three volumes
with a copious critical apparatus, by T. W. Allen, Oxf. 1931; text and trans. by
P. Mazon (Coll. Univ. Fr. Paris 1947-49); with German translation and useful
supplements in the Tusculum series, Munich 1948, the text by V. Stegemann,
the version by H. Rupe. Among commentaries the old one of W. Leaf (2nd ed.
London 1900-02 reprinted 1960) is still useful: so is that of K. Fr. Ameis and
C. Hentze (Teubner), with somewhat old-fashioned, but still indispensable
critical appendices (often reprinted: last edition revised by P. Cauer 1910).
Commentaries on individual books: I: E. Mioni, Turin n.d.; IX: E. Valgiglio,
Rome 1955; XXIV: F. Martinazzoli, Rome 1948. On the Odyssey now see A.
Heubeck, ‘Neuere Odyssee-Ausgaben’ Gymn. 63, 1956, 87. The Odyssey has
been edited with French translation by V. Bérard (Coll. des Univ. de Fr. 2nd ed.
Paris 1933), with a separate Introduction (Paris 1924). A valuable critical edition
is that of P. Von der Miihll, Basel 1946: the apparatus is most carefully set out.
With German translation: A. Weiher, Munich 1955-61. For the exegesis, in
addition to Ameis-Hentze-Cauer (v. sup.) we may mention that of W. B.
Stanford, Lond. 1947. (2nd ed. 1958). Editions of the scholia: on the Iliad W.
Dindorf, 4 vols. Oxf. 1875-77; vols. 5 and 6, E. Maass, ibid. 1888; on the
Odyssey W. Dindorf, Oxf. 1855 repr. 1961 (all these need re-editing; a new
edition of the scholia is being prepared by H. Erbse). J. Baar, Index zu den Ilias-
Scholien. Die wichtigeren Ausdriicke der gramm., rhetor. u. dsthet. Textkritik.
Deutsche Beitrage zur Altertumswiss. 15. Baden-Baden 1961. Lexica: H.
Ebeling, Leipz. 1880-85 repr. by Olms, Hildesheim forthcoming; A. Gehring,
Index Homericus, Leipz. 1891. The first three fascicules (1953/9) of a Lexikon des
friihgriechischen Epos have now appeared, compiled by Snell, Fleischer and
Mette on the widest possible basis. G. L. Prendergast, A Complete Concordance
to the Iliad. Lond. 1875; repr. with additions by B. Marzullo, Hildesheim 1960.
H. Dunbar, A Complete Concordance to the Odyssey and Hymns of Homer. Oxf.
1880; reprint by Olms forthcoming. Translations in addition to the editions with
translation mentioned above: the German translation by J. H. Voss has deservedly
gone through many reprints: it is handsomely printed by P. Von der Miihll in
the Birkhauser classics 23 and 24 (Basel 1946). There are many more recent
translations: we may mention Th. v. Scheffer (vols. 13 and 14 of the Sammlung
Dietrich) and R. A. Schroeder, who has translated both poems in the 4th volume
78
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
of his collected works, Frankf. a.M. 1952. A prose translation of the Odyssey by
W. Schadewaldt in Rowohlt’s Classics 1958. A delightful curiosity is A. Meyer’s
translation of the Odyssey into the Bernese dialect, Berne 1960. The French
translation of the Iliad by R. Flacelitre and of the Odyssey by V. Bérard was
published in the Bibl. de la Pléiade 115, Paris 1955. A translation of the Iliad into
modern Greek by N. Kazantzakis and I. T. Kakridis appeared in Athens 1955.
In English: G. Chapman, Lond. 1616. 1624 (often repr.); A. Pope, Iliad. Lond.
1715-20. Odyssey. ibid. 1725. E. V. Rieu, Iliad. Lond. 1950; Odyssey. Lond. 1946.
On the influence of Homer G. Finsler’s Homer in der Neuzeit von Dante bis Goethe.
Leipzig 1912, remains indispensable. Other interesting studies are: W. B.
Stanford, The Ulysses Theme. A study in the Adaptability of a Traditional Hero.
Oxf. 1954. R. Siihnel, Homer und die engl. Humanitat. Tiibingen 1958. Biblio-
graphies: H. J. Mette, “Homer 1930-56’. Lustrum 1, 1956 (1957), 7, with
supplements ibid. 319; 2, 1957, 294; 4, 1959 (1960), 309; $, 1961, 649; A. Lesky,
Die Homerforschung in der Gegenwart. Vienna 1952, and subsequent progress-
reports in AfdA, of which the last appeared in no. 13, 1960, 1, where references
are given to earlier reports.

By the Epic Cycle

Passages in both Iliad and Odyssey attest the existence of heroic poetry on other
themes: the siege of Thebes, the voyage of the Argonauts, the hunting of the
Calydonian boar. Much of this poetry has been lost to us, and was already lost
in Alexandrian times. Other such poems, however, lived to reach the great
library and were not lost till later. These are to some extent known to us by
report and by surviving fragments. In the Peace (1270) Aristophanes quotes the
beginning of the Epigoni as something well known, indicating that the poem
was still in circulation. We need not mourn the loss in these of poems equal to
the Iliad and Odyssey. All that we know of their loosely-knit structure, the
style of surviving fragments, such judgments as that of Aristotle (Poet. 23.
1459br), all point clearly to the great gulf that separated them. We also know
that these epics presupposed Homer and were complementary to him in subject
matter. The term ‘epic cycle’ occurs in ancient writers: in two rather late pas-
sages we find it defined in different ways. A passage from the Chrestomathy of
Proclus, quoted by Photius (Bibliotheca p. 319A17), tells us that the cycle com-
prised everything from the marriage of Heaven and Earth to the death of
Odysseus. The scholion to Clement of Alexandria Protrept. 2. 30 makes it rather
less comprehensive, saying that the material of the epic cycle was the ante-
cedents and sequel of the Iliad. We know nothing of how the notion developed,
and it seems never to have been so sharply defined that it might not be applied
to collections of different compass.
The few scattered references to a Titanomachia' leave it as shadowy as other
« For fragments of the cyclic epics the old and inadequate edition by G. KINKEL, Epicorum
Graecorum fragmenta (1877), is now partly replaced by the sth volume of Allen’s oct
edition (1912, repr. with corrections 1946) covering the cycle in the wider sense, while
79
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

epics on the earliest history of the gods. Allusions in Homer to past battles of
the gods (e.g. Il. 1. 396) give us some inkling how much may have been con-
signed to oblivion by the success of Hesiod’s Theogony.
We are little better informed about the epics of the Theban cycle, for which
we have not Proclus’ summaries. The use of their themes by the tragedians,
statements in mythographers, and a handful of works of art afford us very
unsafe ground for reconstruction.!
One general remark must be made on the fact that particular epics are some-
times ascribed to Homer, sometimes to other poets. Besides the individual
ascriptions, we find the whole epic cycle sometimes atrtibuted to Homer,
although notices to this effect? are late and unreliable. Doubt of Homeric
authorship was early expressed, as we shall see in discussing the Epigoni and the
Cypria. Aristotle (Poetics loc. cit.) speaks, without giving any name, of ‘the man
who wrote the Cypria and the Little Iliad’, and the scholia suggest that Alex-
andrian views were the same. In later notices various different names are given.3
How far these were the deliberate inventions of pretenders to learning, or how
far they come from older tradition, we cannot tell. We can, however, take as
trustworthy the statem-nts about the number of books and verses, which go
back to the Alexandrian indices.
Of the three Theban epics the first in respect of subject matter is the Oedipodea
with 6600 lines. Cinaethon is sometimes named as the author. It dealt with the
defeat of the Sphinx and Oedipus’ marriage with Jocasta. It probably made him
remain king in Thebes and contract another marriage after the discovery of his
blood-guilt. But the curse of his mother, who had taken her own life, pursued
him until after many domestic calamities he fell in battle against the Minyae.
Next came the Thebaid, with 7000 lines according to the round figure in the
Contest of Homer and Hesiod. Pausanias (9. 9, 5) tells us that as early as the seventh
century it had been ascribed to Homer by Callinus, and that many agreed with
him. We may thus infer the great age of this epic, which Pausanias valued next
only to the Iliad and Odyssey. Its opening, ‘Sing, goddess, of parched Argos,
where the princes . . .’, shows a close similarity to the opening of both the
Homeric epics. This may well be taken as imitation,+ and the passage of Callinus
has not come down to us. Thus we must look on the attribution to Homer as
sceptically as in other cases. We know that the subject matter included the

EB. BETHE, Homer 2, 2nd ed. Leipz. 1929, gives those of the Trojan cycle with an attempted re-
construction. An edition of the epic fragments is being prepared by w. KULLMANN. What
can be reconstructed of the epic Titanomachia is collected by 0. GIGON in J. DORIG and o.
GIGON, Der Kampf der Gotter und Titanen. Olten/Lausanne 196t.
‘ BE. BETHE, Thebanische Heldenlieder. Leipz. 1891, corrected in many points by C. ROBERT,
Oidipus. Berl. 1915. Cf. L. DEUBNER, ‘Oedipus-probleme’. Preuss. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1942/4,
Age
2 E. BETHE, Homer 2, 150.
3 On the various names associated with authorship of the Cycles see w. KULLMANN, Die
Quellen der Ilias. Herm. E 14, 1960, 215. 2.
* A different view is held by g. KALINKA, ‘Die Dichtungen Homers’. Almanach d. Ak.
Wien 1934, p. 22 of the separate printing.
80
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

repeated curse called down by Oedipus on his sons and fulfilled in their mutual
slaughter, which put an end to the expedition of the Seven against Thebes.
Echoes of this epic in later poetry suggest that the siege was described with much
episode and elaboration.
For the third Theban epic, the Epigoni, the same source as for the Thebaid
gives the same round figure of 7000 lines. The ascription to Homer is mentioned
by Herodotus (4. 32) with obvious misgivings. The successful siege of Thebes
by the sons of the first attackers is known to Homer (Il. 4. 406); although this
could not of course be referring to the treatment of it later incorporated in the
epic cycle.
We are best informed about the poems of the Trojan cycle, thanks to the
extracts from the Chrestomathia of Proclus which are preserved partly in the
Bibliotheca of the patriarch Photius, partly in some of the manuscripts of the
Iliad (particularly the Venetus A).! Some scholars have been so sceptical as to
deny any value to these summaries. While this academic Pyrrhonism has
deservedly fallen out of fashion, we should not underestimate how much
uncertainty is still left. Whether the Proclus concerned wrote in the second
century or the fifth, it is quite certain that he did not have the poems themselves
to hand: what he tells us is what he has picked up from the mythographers.
Two questions pose themselves. First: do these excerpts give an accurate account
of the starting and finishing points of the various epics? Secondly: is the very
smooth joining of each to each the work of the original poets or of later com-
pilers and arrangers? We shall return to these questions later.
The Cypria (Kvzpua sc. én: the title has never been satisfactorily explained)
in eleven books told what happened before the Iliad. The author is variously
given as Stasinus, Hegesias or Hegesinus. There is an interesting passage raising
a problem of over-population: Zeus sees the world groaning under the weight
of human beings, and decides to relieve the burden by a great war. The poet
casts his net wide. He tells us all the background: the marriage of Peleus and
Thetis, the judgment of Paris, the rape of Helen and the events in Aulis up to
the first mistaken landing in Teuthrania. Then follow episodes from the war
before the Iliad. The style must have been rather inconsequential, to judge from
one particular scene. Menelaus, recruiting for his expedition, comes to Nestor,
prince of Pylos. The old man tells him the story of Epopeus, who ran off with
another man’s wife, of Oedipus, of the madness of Heracles, of Theseus and
Ariadne. There is a certain bond between these tales—each tells of things going

1 Whether this was the Neoplatonist of the fifth century or a grammarian of the 2nd is
uncertain. M. SICHERL, Gnom. 28, 1956, 210, I, rightly points out the weakness ofthe case
for equating this Proclus with the Neoplatonist: it rests solely on the statement of aByzantine
writer (Tzetzes?) in Ottob. gr. 58. Summary of the manuscript evidence and a new version
for the Cypria in A. SEVERYNS, ‘Un Sommaire inédit des chants cypriens’. Mel. Grégoire.
Ann. de Vinst. @hist. Orient. et Slav. 10, 1950, 571. Id., Recherches sur la Chrestomathie de Pro-
clos 1. Etudes paléographique et critique. Paris 1938. II. Texte, traduction, commentatre. Paris 1938.
Ill. La vita Homeri et les sommaires du Cycle. Paris 1953. Severyns’ earlier work on the Chresto-
mathy is referred to in Gnom. 28, 1956, 210, 5. For a history of the problem of the cyclic
epics see KULLMANN, op. cit. (p. 23, n. I) 18.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

wrong between man and woman—but the prolixity of this string of narratives
goes beyond anything which the Homeric Nestor would have allowed himself.
The poet has presumably, however, taken the Homeric character as his model.
This poem also was ascribed to Homer, as we see from the criticism voiced by
Herodotus, who is by no means so uncritical as he is sometimes represented in
contrast to Thucydides. He contests the Homeric authorship, since in the
Cypria Paris and Helen arrive at Troy after three days’ easy sail, while in the
Iliad (6. 290) they take a devious route by way of Sidon. Proclus’ excerpts give
the Homeric version—which shows how far he is to be trusted.
The Iliad was followed by the Aethiopis in five books, ascribed to Arctinus of
Miletus. It dealt with the last exploits of Achilles: his victory over the Amazon
Penthesilea and the Ethiopian prince Memnon, his death at the hands of Paris
and Apollo — the human and divine archers — and his funeral. The erotic element
that later attached itself to the episode of Penthesilea seems to have been kept
out. We mentioned earlier (p. 23) how the Aethiopis figured in a recent theory
which extracted from it a Memnonis as a model for the Iliad.
It is very hard to date any of these epics. For the Aethiopis we know that the
battle of Achilles and Memnon was depicted on the ‘Cypselus chest’, the chest
of cedarwood richly adorned with scenes from mythology which the ruling
house of Corinth dedicated at Delphi (Paus. 5. 17, 5). Probably this gives us a
lower limit for the dating, although it is possible that the carving reflected an
older version of the saga of Memnon. On the other hand, in the epic Achilles
kills Thersites for insulting the body of Penthesilea, and is absolved of blood-
guilt by Odysseus on the island of Lesbos after sacrifice to Apollo. This episode
points to an increasing influence of the notion of blood-guilt and its connection
with Delphi — a notion so influential later — and we can probably refer the
Aethiopis to the late seventh century. With greater reservations we might
suppose the epic cycle in general to have taken shape about this time. It should
again be emphasized that the material in them was much older, and that the
cycle arose from a later re-handling, under Homeric influence, of traditional
themes.!
An epic in two books entitled The Sack of Troy (IAtov 7épats) is also associated
with Arctinus. What we know of its contents, together with representations on
pots, suggests that the fate of the city was depicted in a series of detached
episodes.
The Aethiopis and Iliu Persis collaborate in telling the events after the end of the
Iliad. This fact in itself raises difficulties, since we know of another epic relating
the Posthomerica: the Little Iliad, in four books, ascribed to Lesches or some-
times to others, including Cinaethon. Some scholars have supposed that the
Little Iliad was a kind of epic fragment, telling what befell between the Aethiopis
and the Iliu Persis, while Bethe makes these two the component parts of a

" W. KULLMANN Op. cit. (sup. p. 23, n. I) devotes a chapter to the structure of the epic
cycle and examines the relation of the cyclic epics to the Iliad. He dates the former too early;
not only the Aethiopis, but also the Cypria is older, he thinks, than the Iliad — a view I
cannot share.
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 THE HOMERIC EPIC

Little Iliad in eleven books all told. In this way both Antehomerica and Postho-
merica would be comprised in eleven books; but this may be mere coincidence.
The most probable supposition is that the Little Iliad stood side by side with
the other two, and related the events following Hector’s death in a more con-
cise form.
The plot of the Odyssey is simply one hero’s return, albeit the most celebrated,
out of many. This much we can see from the poem itself, where in the Tele-
machia and Nekyia much is told of the fate of the other heroes. This material was
related at length in a poem of five books, ascribed to Homer or to Hagias of
Troezen and entitled Homecomings (Néoror). The element of catalogue must
have been very prominent in the construction of such a poem.
The most surprising shoot from this stem is the Telegonia,§ commonly
ascribed to Eugammon of Cyrene. It was designed as a continuation of the
Odyssey, and it combined old tradition with new invention. Its account of
Odysseus’ wanderings in the district of Thesprotia in Epirus, of a second
marriage and a victorious campaign against the Bryges may well come from an
older Thesprotis mentioned by Pausanias (8. 12, 5). The wanderings that Odys-
seus undertakes in order to placate Poseidon are obviously associated with the
prophecy of Tiresias in the Odyssey (11. 121). A second part of the epic contains
that tragic father-and-son theme which finds its greatest expression in the
Hildebrandslied. Telegonus, son of Odysseus by Circe, lands in Ithaca in search
of his father. On a plundering foray he meets and kills Odysseus, not knowing
him, with a spear tipped with a sharp flint. The many absurdities in detail, not
least the elaborate wedding scene at the end in which Penelope is united with
Telegonus and Circe with Telemachus, suggest that the poem was written very
late, and we are disposed to accept the statement of Eusebius, who says that
Eugammon flourished in the 53rd Olympiad (568-565). This date may well be
the lower limit for epic poetry of this kind.
Here we must return to the question whether the epics of the Trojan cycle
were conceived by their original authors as supplementing the Iliad and making
the story complete. Despite all the uncertainties associated with the excerpts of
Proclus, we can answer that they were. The closeness of the joins is shown by
an alternative form of the last line of the Iliad, preserved in the T scholium to
24. 804. Hector’s epithet ‘tamer of horses’ was left out at the end of the verse,
and the words ‘but there came an Amazon...’ replaced them, so that one
passed immediately in recitation from the Iliad to the Aethiopis. This is the
same trend towards unification which we meet on one of the ‘Homeric bowls’,3
which shows first Priam before Achilles, next Priam receiving Penthesilea
beside the grave of Hector, and finally the battle of Achilles and the Amazon.
The same desire is evident: to make a link between Iliad and Aethiopis. The new

1 A. HARTMANN, Untersuchungen iiber die Sagen vom Tod des Odysseus. Munich 1917. R.
MERKELBACH, Untersuchungen zur Odyssee. Zet. 2. Munich 1951, 142.
2 Os of y dudlerov tddov “Exropos: 7Ade 8 ’Apdlwv “Apnos Buvyarnp preyaAnropos avdpo-
ddvouo.

3 C. ROBERT, $0. Berliner Winkelmannsprogramm 1890, 20.

83
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

ally gives the Trojans hope that they may yet make good the loss of their best
defender.
Scattered references to other epics show how fertile the field was in which
those already mentioned sprang up. The Capture of Oechalia (OtyaAtas aAwats)
told of the sack of the city by Heracles and the abduction of Iole — a theme which
influenced the Trachiniae of Sophocles. Legend has it that Homer gave this epic
to Creophylus of Samos in gratitude for his hospitality; from which Calli-
machus (epigr. 6 Pf.) drew the correct conclusion that Creophylus wrote it.
An Alcmeonis dealt with the fate of the Theban counterpart to Orestes — that
Alcmeon who slew his mother Eriphyla to avenge his father Amphiaraus.
Other epics, such as Phocais, Minyas, Danais, are little more than names.

C The Homeric Hymns

A group of hexameter hymns addressed to various gods and ascribed to Homer
has been preserved, as it seems, through its having been formed into a corpus
together with those assigned to Orpheus and later with the hymns of Calli-
machus and Proclus. So at least it appears from the manuscript transmission.
There are thirty-three of these “Homeric hymns’,! and the remains of one more
in Diodorus 3. 66, 3. They were written at very different times and places: some
of them cannot be firmly dated at all, nor can we say when the present collection
was formed. It may be of fairly late origin: certainly the eighth hymn (to Ares)
with its astrological trappings is scarcely conceivable before the Hellenistic
period. Of course it may possibly have crept into the collection after the others.
What we have here in effect is a small and random sample from the great
number of hymns written in Greek antiquity. Right down to the end of the
ancient world we find allusions to early poetry under such names as Olen
(Herod. 4. 35), Pamphos, Orpheus and Musaeus. In most instances the reference
would be to cult-hymns in lyric metre; but presumably there were other
hymns, like that which brought victory to Hesiod (Erga 657), composed on the
same lines as those which we find under the name of Homer. These hymns are
wholly in the rhapsodic tradition, borrowing their language from Homer even
to complete phrases. Of their conception we may say the same as of their
execution, except that individuality is a little more apparent here. Many of these
poems have a charm of their own, arising from their application of the epic
manner to themes and audiences not normally associated with great heroic
poetry.? The-circles to whom this ‘sub-epic’ poetry was addressed come out
clearly in those verses (146 ff.) of the Hymn to the Delian Apollo which depict
the crowds of Ionians coming with bag and baggage to the festival on the
sacred island, and the unrestrained merriment and delight which accompanied
the dancing of the maidens. Here we can see what the great religious festivals
meant in the life and art of Greece. It is a long step from this communal Ionian
* Counting separately the hymns to the Delian and the Pythian Apollo.
Pointed out by kK. DercHGRABER, ‘Eleusinische Frémmigkeit und homerische Vorstel-
lungswelt im hom. Demeterhymnus’. Akad. Mainz. Geistes- u. sozialwiss. K1. 1950/6.
84
 THE HOMERIC EPIC

celebration to the feast of Adonis in the great Hellenistic cities (Theocr. 15),
with the chattering wives of the bourgeoisie pushing through the throng on
their way to the palace to gape at the decorations of the court. In the archaic
and classical periods the festivals kindled a true community spirit.
The great Delian festival is mentioned by Thucydides (3. 104), where we find
the first reference to this hymn. He calls it zpoo¢pov? AmddAAwvos. This designa-
tion of the hymns as prooemia (preludes) occurs elsewhere, and it is noticeable
that they often end with a reference to other poems. Thus for example does the
hymn to Demeter, with a formula that recurs several times. Wolf in his Pro-
legomena ad Homerum drew the inference that these hymns served the rhapsodes
as preludes to their recitation of the epics.
Thucydides is also our witness for the ascription of such hymns to Homer.
Numerous references,! going down to the close of antiquity, make such claims
either for individual hymns or for a collection of them (which should not of
course be equated with ours). On the other hand, a scholium to Nicander’s
Alexipharmaca 130 speaks of ‘the hymns ascribed to Homer’, and the fifth of
our Vitae Homeri expressly denies the attribution. From the total neglect of the
hymns? in scholia to Homer we may infer that the Alexandrians shared this
view.
The hymns vary in length as much as they do in subject. Four of them are
about as long as books of the Odyssey. A Hymn to Dionysus is known to us from
a fragment in Diodorus (3. 66, 3), and from its last twelve verses on the first
page of the Mosquensis. Since the hymns coming after it are all long ones, we
may suppose that the lost hymn was long also.
The manuscript just mentioned is the only one to give the Hymn to Demeter,
which in it is the first of the long hymns. The story of the rape of Persephone,
of Demeter’s grief, and of the reunion of mother and daughter is here so closely
tied up with the immemorial mystery cult of Eleusis that the poem can be
taken as a sacred history of the great religious centre. The passages where
Demeter fasts in her grief, where the maid Iambe spreads a fleece for her to sit on
and makes jokes to cheer her up, all serve to illustrate usages of the mysteries.
The conclusion describes the founding of that secret cult which the Greeks
received as an inheritance from the pre-Hellenic past, and which still held its
followers under the Roman empire.3 The author is no great poet, but he can
certainly adapt the epic style to express intimate and delicate feeling, as when the
king’s daughters run to the fountain to call Demeter, bounding like does or
heifers over the spring meadows, or when the mother embraces her recovered
child and Hecate sympathetically shares her joy. And when the king’s daughters
anxiously take care of the kicking and whining child that Demeter has left
behind, a smile flits over the lips which tell the rest of the story in all seriousness.

1 Conveniently assembled in the introduction to the Oxford edition.

2 With one possible exception: cf. Allen’s ed. LX XIV.
3 Historical account of the mysteries: 0. KERN, RE 16, 1209. K. KERENYI, ‘Ueber das
Geheimnis der eleusinischen Mysterien’. Paideuma 7, 1959, 69. On one particular feature:
A. LESKY, Rhein. Mus. 103, 1960, 377.
1B)2 85
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The hymn shows an immediate acquaintance with the Eleusinian cult and
presumably was composed not far from Eleusis. It also postulates a time when
Eleusis was not yet under Athenian control. If we assign it to the late seventh
century, we shall not go far wrong. A Berlin papyrus (Kern, Orph. frag. p. 119)
relates the rape of Persephone in prose, but quotes whole verses from this
hymn.
The Hymn to Apollo! begins with an imposing picture of the long-striding
archer-god before whom even the Olympians tremble: one might be looking
at a painting in a temple. It continues with the wanderings of Leto, who at
length found the tiny island of Delos as the place to bring forth the radiant
brother and sister. The god grows wondrously, he roves over many lands, but
his heart is always with the island of his birth, where the Ionians celebrate their
splendid national feast. The poet then turns to the chorus of Delian maidens: if
anyone should ask them who the singer is who most delights them, they should
say it is the blind man of Chios. After a brief and not very smooth transition
comes a scene in Olympus, depicting Apollo not as the threatening archer, but
as the god of the lyre. We then follow him as he seeks a seat for his oracle; we
are told how the stream Telphusa cunningly, but much to her own hurt, dis-
suaded the god from establishing himself by her side. Apollo now storms into
the mountains, and chooses the foot of Parnassus for his great sanctuary. A huge
serpent living by the stream hard by is slain by his arrows. Transforming him-
self into a dolphin, he summons a ship on the old trade route from Crete to
Pylos. In Crisa, the harbour of Delphi, he declares himself by miracles and takes
the Cretans into his holy oracle to be its priests.
In the second edition of his Epistola critica I (1781) David Ruhnken first
expressed the view that in our transmission two originally independent hymns
have been combined. This theory has been variously modified or rejected by
more modern scholars. But the unmistakable end of the Delian section, the
new start with the Delphian legend, together with the peculiarities of the transi-
tion, are all on Ruhnken’s side. L. Deubner? considered vv. 179-206 as a variant
intended to replace 140 ff. (dealing with the Delian festival) when the hymn
was being recited elsewhere than in Delos. There is much to recommend this
view, and the author of 179-206 may well be the same as the writer of the
Pythian section.
For the hymn to Apollo we have an ancient attribution: in the scholium to
Pindar Nem. 2. 1 it is ascribed to Cynaethus, the head of a successful school of
thapsodes which forged extensively under the name of Homer. In the 6oth
Olympiad (504-501) he is said to have been the first to recite Homer in Syracuse.
This may well have been in consequence of some official provision for such
performances. At all events, both parts of the hymn are much older than 504,
since there is no mention in them of the Pythia or of the games and other

* Stylistic analysis in B. A. VAN GRONINGEN, La Composition littéraire archaique grecque.

Nederl. Akad. 65/2. Amsterdam 1958, 304.
2 “Der hom. Apollonhymnos’. -Sitzb. Preuss. Akad. Phil.-hist. KI. 1938/24. A unitary
view: F, Dornseiff, Rhein. Mus. 87, 1938, 80. Cf. 0. REGENBOGEN, Eranos 54, 1956, 49.
86
 THE HOMERIC EPIC
important elements of the Delphic cult. The only solution is to regard Cynae-
thus as the composer of the hymn in the sense that he put the two parts to-
gether:! the parts we must still refer to the seventh century. It was inevitable
that the ‘blind man of Chios’ should be taken as Homer. The Contest of Homer
and Hesiod tells how Homer declaimed this hymn standing on the horned altar
at Delos, after which it was written down by the Delians on a white tablet and
preserved in the sanctuary of Artemis. In this last detail there may be preserved
a fragment of historical truth.
With the Hymn to Hermes? we are in quite different country. It tells of the
adventures and pranks of this divine infant prodigy: how he made the first lyre
out of a tortoise-shell, stole the oxen of his big brother Apollo, and met Apollo’s
anger and the judgment of Zeus with such a disarming impertinence that his
brother’s affection was now entirely regained, purchased by the gift of the lyre.
Its fresh and sparkling humour is the particular charm of this poem — humour of
a different kind from that twinkle in the eye and that pleasure in intimate detail
which seems a peculiarly Ionic feature in the other hymns. The poet of the
Hymn to Hermes delights in boisterous action and makes one think of the un-
inhibited laughter of Old Comedy. After the theft of the cattle, the infant
Hermes, all innocence, wraps himself again in his swaddling clothes, and when
Apollo snatches him up in a fury he makes such an ominous noise that his
brother, in hasty alarm, puts him down again. The ill-matched brothers stand
before Zeus, and the child defends himself most ingeniously while he is held by
the napkins. Zeus can only burst out laughing, and the reader with him. The
poet knows central Greece well, and probably came from there, where he
would have had an unsophisticated, largely peasant audience for his tale. He tells
it in epic language, but the frequency of asyndeton and parataxis, the many
parentheses, the occasional vulgarisms, together with a frequent looseness of
expression, show that the old garment was beginning to fit rather badly. The
hymn to Hermes is the most recent of the longer poems, and may well be as
late as the sixth century.
The Hymn to Aphrodite,3 with its undisguised Ionic colouring, offers a lively
contrast. In it Zeus humbles the goddess who makes trouble even for the
Olympians by giving her a taste of her own medicine, making her fall in love
with the handsome shepherd prince Anchises. She approaches his camp in the
guise of a young maiden. The poem, the most graceful of the collection, ends
with the promise of the birth of Aeneas and a stern injunction to keep the
secret. This Aphrodite may sometimes lack majesty and divinity, but the poet
may well have been connected with the family of the Aeneadae in the Troad.

1 Thus H. T. WADE-GERY, The Poet of the Iliad. Cambr. 1952, 21.

2 Edition with commentary by L. RADERMACHER, Sitzb. Akad. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl. 213/1,
1931.
. Good analysis of the hymn, which he thinks to be by the poet of the Iliad, in K. REIN-
HARDT, ‘Zum hom. Aphroditehymnos’. Festschr.f.Br.Snell. Munich 1956, 1; ibid. on the
Aeneas episode in the 20th of the Iliad. Fr. sovmsEN, ‘Zur Theologie im grossen Aphrodite-
Hymnos’. Herm. 88, 1960, I.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Certainly he cannot have lived far away. A beautiful scene depicts the goddess
wandering through the wooded slopes of Ida to meet her beloved, while he
tarries in the mountain pasture among the shepherds. The wild beasts follow
and fawn upon her — wolf and bear, lion and panther — and the goddess lights
her flame in all their hearts. It is clear that Aphrodite here has some of the
attributes of the Great Mother worshipped on Ida, who was mistress of all the
beasts.
Of the other hymns two emerge more sharply than the rest: those to Diony-
sus and to Pan. The first strikingly describes how the handsome young god
punished the pirates who tried to carry him off. Here we can see perhaps most
clearly a connection between these poems and archaic Ionian art: the friezes and
pediments of the Delphic treasury come readily to mind. The hymn to Pan
brings us back to central Greece, where the cult of the goat-god was well
established. The rest of the hymns consist mainly of ritual invocations, or they
celebrate the power and describe the functions of individual deities.
Joannes Aurispa in a letter to Ambrogio Traversari mentions among the
Greek manuscripts which he brought to Italy ‘laudes deorum Homeri, haud
parvum opus’. It has often been thought that this was the ancestor of our
various MSS. Allen disagrees (IV. 1) on the ground of sharp divergencies between
the MSS., and posits two classes. Another line of transmission became known
when C. F. Matthaei discovered in Moscow the MS. which is now in Leyden
and is the only one to give the hymn to Demeter and the end of that to Diony-
sus.! No papyrus text of the hymns was known until Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, n.
2379 (Hymn. ad Cer. 402-407). The standard edition with introduction and
commentary is that of T. W. Allen, E. E. Sikes and W. R. Halliday, 2nd ed. Oxf.
1936. The text is given also in the fifth volume of Allen’s OCT Homer. With
Germ. trans.: A. Weiher, Tusculum-Biicherei. Munich 1951. With French trans.:
J. Humbert, Coll. des Un. de Fr. 4th ed. 1959. O. Zumbach, Neuerungen in der
Sprache der hom. Hymnen. 1955, has collected the instances of late linguistic
usage in the hymns; V. Pisani, Storia della lingua greca in Encicl. class. 2/5/1.
Turin 1940, 48, points out some anomalies in epic usage in the hymn to Demeter.

D Other Works Attributed to Homer

The relief of Archelaus of Priene having ‘Homage to Homer’ as its subject
shows a frog and a mouse by the poet’s throne. Hence it appears that in Arche-
laus’ time (second century B.c.) the Batrachomyomachia, a poem in 303 hexa-
meters describing the war of the frogs and mice, was taken in all seriousness to
be a work of Homer’s. Another tradition,? assigning it to a Carian called Pigres,
is scarcely more trustworthy. The cause of the war is amusingly related. The
king of the frogs, Cheekpuffer (Physignathos), full of friendship and good
feeling towards mice, is carrying Crumbsnatcher (Psicharpax) on his back across
a lake, when a watersnake appears. The frog dives in alarm, and the mouse is
* On the interpretation of the latter see DEICHGRABRR, cf. p. 84, n. 2.
* Notices about Batrach. and the Margites in Allen’s fifth volume OCT.
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 THE HOMERIC EPIC

drowned. A hard-fought war now takes place, in which a comic effect is

obtained by the parodying of epic scenes and formulae. Our ignorance of other
examples of parody in Greek literature’ makes it hard to date this one. But since
the Hellenistic age reckoned it as Homeric, it must have been composed some
considerable time before, despite many marks of degeneracy in language and
metre.
There are other examples of animal parodies of Homeric battle-scenes, since
we hear of such titles as Geranomachia, Psaromachia and Arachnomachia, which
Proclus and the Vitae give as Homeric paegnia. The Epicichlides seems by its
name to be concerned with quails, but it was not epic travesty: according to
Athenaeus 14. 639A it had a mostly erotic content.
Homer and Pigres again appear as authors of the poem about the simpleton
Margites* — a work whose loss we much regret. In this poem, a precursor of the
Ionic prose romance, the leading figure was the blockhead who does every-
thing topsy-turvy: a character with many cousins in folk-tales all over the world.
In Greek literature we hear of other similar figures, such as Coroebus and
Melitides. The theme, that Margites can only with great difficulty be prevailed
upon by his young wife to discharge his marital duties, recurs in medieval
fabliaux. The hero, whose qualities of mind are betokened by his name (wa pyos=
demented), was the son, according to a notice in Eustathius (1669. 48), of very
rich parents. Perhaps, then, there was some element of social satire in the poem,
and its author may have been someone like Hipponax. Its unusual form —
hexameters with iambics scattered at random — has now had some light cast on
it by the Ischia bowl (Acc. Lincei 1955). Some of the statements about the metri-
cal form of the Margites speak simply of alternation between hexameters and
iambi; others give the impression that a sequence of hexameters would be
broken by a single iambic line. If we accept these statements at their face value
and do not suppose them to reflect misunderstandings of a remark by some
ancient metrician, then we shall be in serious doubt whether to ascribe the new
papyrus fragments (showing a very free change of metres) to the Margites or
not.?
Eustratius on Aristotle Eth. Nic. 6, 7. 1141a12 declares that Archilochus,
Cratinus and Callimachus reckoned the Margites as genuine work of Homer’s.
But since Cratinus, Aristophanes’ great predecessor, wrote a comedy entitled
Archilochoi, it is quite possible that the mention of Archilochus comes from his

© The scanty remnants in P. BRANDT, Corpusculum poesis epicae Graecae Iudibundae. 1.

Leipz. 1888. !
2 1. RADERMACHER, RE 14, 1930, 1705. New fragments: Ox. Pap. 22, 1954, nr. 2309; ct.
K. LATTE, Gnom. 27, 1955, 492. W. PEEK, ‘Neue Bruchstiicke friihgriech. Dichtung’. Wiss.
Zeitschr. Univ. Halle 5, 1955-56, 189. A. HEUBECK, Gymn. 66, 1959, 382. H. LANGERBECK,
‘Margites. Versuch einer Beschreibung und Rekonstruktion’. Harv. Stud. 63, 1958 (Festschr.
Jaeger), 33. M. FORDERER, Zum homerischen Margites. Amsterdam 1960, has many acute
observations, and attempts to greater dimension of depth to the figure of Margites as ‘the
pure fool’, relating it to the heroes of the great epics. This attempt, as the author admits,
must remain hypothetical.
3 This conclusion is reached by FORDERER, Op. cit. 5, after examining the ancient notices.
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having appeared as a character in Cratinus’ play. This supposition would leave

us free to date the Margites later — say about the sixth century.!
We may mention here the short hexameter poems attributed to Homer in
the life of him which bears the name of Herodotus. Many of them are quoted
to establish biographical points; they are not bad verses, and they go back no
doubt to the rhapsodic tradition. This biography, to which the not very
meaningful name of ‘Volksbuch’ has been given, also contains the Eiresione, a
charming traditional begging song for children. We can see here what a wide
range of foundlings was fathered onto Homer. In Alexandria the Homeric
critics took no account of any of this material.
1 Cf.J. A. DAVISON, Eranos 53, 1956, 135.

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 CHAPTER
IV

The Archaic Period

A Hesiod
It was common in antiquity to mention Homer and Hesiod in the same breath,
and the saying of Herodotus (2. 53) has often been repeated, that these two gave
the Greeks their gods. But in fact the resemblances in metre, in use of the epic
vocabulary, in rhapsodic tradition, are out-weighed by the one fact that Hesiod
lived socially and spiritually in a totally different world. At the very outset
they are in contrast, since the personality of Homer remains, even for those who
accept his historicity, a gigantic shadow; while of Hesiod’s life and circum-
stances we are remarkably well informed from his own works. He is the first
poet of the western world to have a social context. If we date his poems about
700, as is very likely, we find ourselves not far from the time at which the
Homeric epics took shape. Since various passages in Hesiod show some affinity
to parts of Homer, some writers have tried to assign to him some parts of the
Odyssey. No such attempt has been able to carry conviction or to invalidate the
generally held view that in all such cases Hesiod was the borrower.!
The striking difference between the spiritual world of Hesiod and that of the
great epics cannot be explained as resulting from historical developments.
Rather, what is new and different in Hesiod comes from the difference in his
social and geographical background. In this connection we must remember
that the Odyssey already shows a breaking down of the aristocratic scheme of
values and a stronger tendency to think in ethical terms, such as characterizes
the work of Hesiod.”
We think of the Homeric epics as having taken shape in Ionian Asia Minor,
and the stamp of the Ionic spirit is visible upon them. Hesiod, on the contrary,
is as un-Ionic as he could be. His father came from Cyme, and thus from the
part of Asia Minor which was colonized by Aeolians. Like many of his con-
temporaries, he sought wealth in overseas trade, but his plans miscarried and he
left his home to settle in Ascra, a village of Bocotia near Thespiae. Here Hesiod
grew up, and even if not a native Bocotian, he nevertheless was greatly influ-
enced in his ways and in his poetry by this highly individual area of central
Greece, with all its peasant self-sufficiency, its richness in ancient tradition and
that uncouth strength which we see in the early plastic art of Boeotia.3
1 F, SOLMSEN, Op. Cit. 6, 3. W. SCHADEWALDT, Von Homers Welt und Werk. 3rd ed.,

1959, 93 nN. I.
2 The difference between Hesiod and the Odyssey where ethics are concerned is rather
overstressed by D. KAUFMANN-BUHLER, ‘Hesiod und die Tisis in der Odyssee’. Herm. 84,
1956, 267.
3 R, LULLIES, ‘Zur friihen boiotischen Plastik’. Arch. Jahrb. 51, 1936, 138.
OI
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

There were aristocratic landowners there as elsewhere. Hesiod came into

contact with them, but their world was not his. In his youth he lived as a
shepherd on the mountains; later he worked the land that he inherited from his
father. His world is that of the small peasants who were indeed free, but had a
hard struggle for their living. The soil was so unproductive that Hesiod (Erga
376) recommends the farmer to have only one child. There is no romantic
light cast on the toil and suffering of peasant life. Ascra is bad in winter, unbear-
able in summer, never good (Erga 640). It was not until the days of the great
Hellenistic cities that men first felt that romantic affection for the world of
nature which finds expression in Theocritus.
The most important event of Hesiod’s life is described in the prooemium to
the Theogony. As he was watching his flock on Helicon, the Muses came to him,
veiled in thick mist, from the top of the mountain where they wove their
dances. Their voices awoke poetry in him; they crowned him with laurel, and
he felt called to sing of things past and things yet to come. This is a poet
describing the moment when he recognized his vocation; and we should be
rather foolish if we examined too closely the historical and factual content of
the verses. But that it reflects a genuine experience cannot be doubted.! Later he
tells us (Erga 654) how at the funeral games of Amphidamas in Chalcis he won
a victory with a hymn: the tripod which was his prize he consecrated to the
Heliconian Muses on the place where they first set his feet on the path of verse
and song.
It was the Muses who made Hesiod a poet. But he had to learn his craft, and
in this respect, as his verses plainly show, Homeric influence was paramount.
Only in the epics could he find the form in which to express what the Muses
bade him. But he did more than learn: what he studied often aroused him to
doubt and disagreement. In the prooemium to the Theogony the Muses are not
very friendly to the shepherds: they call them idle wretches, bellies and nothing
more. This is the first time that the arts appear in opposition to the lower sphere
of everyday necessities: a note is sounded which will be heard again and again
in Greek literature. Of their own activities the Muses say that their language is
often falsehood bearing the appearance of truth; but they speak truth too if
they are inclined. It seems then that there are different kinds of poetry: while
Hesiod feels called to enshrine truth in his verses, he gives a sideways glance at
those who make such a promise without fulfilling it. Thus this important
prooemium provides the first example of literary polemic. The way in which
the early philosophers took each other or the poets to task for untruthfulness
(VS 22 B4o. 57), or in which Hecataeus of Miletus ridicules the beliefs of the
Greeks (fr. 1 Jac.), are prefigured in these words. In the mouth of Hesiod they
betoken the great gulf by which he was separated from the Homeric world.
Hesiod learned of the Homeric poems from wandering rhapsodes. From
them he learned his trade, and he himself became one of their number. We

* K. LATTE, ‘Hesiods Dichterweihe’, Ant. u. Abendl. 2, 1946, 152. Parallels from poets of
other lands: c. M. BowRA, Heroic Poetry. Lond. 1953, 427. K. v. FRITZ, ‘Das Prooemium
der
hesiodischen Theogonie’. Festschr. Br. Snell. Munich 1956, 29.
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cannot infer that he gave up his farm: certainly he was never far from it. His
visit to the funeral games in Chalcis was something quite unusual, and his
voyage over the narrow straits of Euripus was his only journey by sea — a thing
for which he had no more love than most Greeks of the archaic period.!
Nothing shows this so clearly as the single detail that the inhabitants of the just
and happy city do not have to go to sea.
But even if Hesiod was not a rhapsode in the same sense as the wandering
Homeridae, he was still closely connected with them. In consequence his
poems soon came to be recited by rhapsodes — an important but ominous factor
in the transmission.
The strongest indication that he was reckoned as a rhapsode is the Contest of
Homer and Hesiod (cf. 45. 14). The story in its present form has additions dating
from the late empire, but a papyrus of the 3rd century B.c.* shows that the
main lines were already there; and Wilamowitz3 wants to put the Certamen
back into classical times. It arose basically from the Greek passion for compara-
tive judgments (syncrisis) of literary figures, and begins with a game of question
and answer in hexameters between Homer and Hesiod. Next each recites the
most beautiful passages from his work; and the audience decides in favour of
Homer after hearing battle scenes from the Iliad. But Panades, who as brother
of the dead Amphidamas presides over the contest, awards the prize to Hesiod’s
verses describing peaceful country life.
There are all kinds of fables about the poet’s death, as in ancient biography
the deaths of famous men were favourite subjects for anecdotal embellishment.
The story that his tomb was shown in Orchomenus may well be true.+
The Theogony is hard to understand mainly because its contents are so varied.
Added to this is a thought-sequence in which main lines do exist, but are so
interlaced and surrounded by side-issues that they often escape our gaze. These
features, as well as the associative rather than logical development of some parts
and the frequency of digressions, contribute to the strikingly archaic impression
that the poem gives. There are also difficulties arising from the transmission.
Since the text was in the hands of rhapsodes, it was bound to become riddled
with variants and interpolations. In consequence the text in modern times has
been vigorously assailed and many passages have been far too readily denounced
as spurious.> Parts such as the so-called “hymn to Hecate’ and the battle with
1 Passages given in Thalatta. Vienna 1947, are enough to show this.
2 Flinders Petrie Papyri, Dublin 1891 nr. 25; in ALLEN’S edition $, 225. To these add Papy-
rus Michigan 2754 (late second or early third century) found in the excavations at Karanis:
J. G. WINTER, ‘A New Fragment on the Life of Homer’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 56, 1925,
120. The papyrus has the ending of the Certamen and the subscription ’AAk]dduavros rept
“Ounpov Bibliog.: Gnom. 33, 1961, 697, 2.
3 Ilias und Homer, 400. Recent lit. p. 40, n. 3. Cf. G. WALBERER, Isokrates und Alkidamas.
Diss. Hamburg 1938.
4 Sources on Hesiod’s life and works in Jacoby’s edition (v. sup.). O. FRIEDEL, ‘Die Sage
vom Tode Hesiods nach ihren Quellen untersucht’. Jahrb. f. class. Phil. Suppl. Bd. 10.
Leipz. 1878/79, is still valuable.
5 Opposing views are expressed in JACOBY’S edition and in P. PRIEDLANDER, Gott. Gel.
Anz. 1931, 241.
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Typhoeus! are still under suspicion, and so are a number of shorter passages.
Inevitably in poetry of this kind definite criteria can only rarely be established;
and consequently the reserve shown by modern scholars is well justified.
In the next paragraphs we shall attempt to bring out a few constituent ele-
ments of the Theogony; but in simplifying it as we needs must, we should not
forget how prolix the archaic narrative is, with its perpetual conflict between
order and freedom.
In the Theogony we find every kind of mixture of traditional stories with
Hesiod’s own invention. Recent researches have made it much easier for us to
pick out leading threads. The Theogony depicts partly a development, partly a
situation that has arisen in the course of time in the world in which we all have
to live. In the Erga also being and coming-to-be stand side by side. In the
Theogony the main line of development follows the succession of three divinities
as world rulers: Uranus, Cronus and Zeus. The transfer of power is always
violent. Cronus castrates his father Uranus and thus wins the kingdom. He
devours his own children, but his wife Rhea saves the new-born Zeus from him
and conceals him in Crete, where he grows up to be the future ruler of the
world. In battle with the Titans he wins the throne for all time.
In recent years Gustav Giiterbock and Heinrich Otten? have brought to light
two religious poems of the near east, which help to illustrate the origin of certain
Greek myths. The texts, written in Hittite, are from the great find of cuneiform
tablets at Boghazkéi, and are from the period 1400-1200 B.c. Various peculi-
arities of the texts strongly suggest that behind the Hittite version is an older
Hurrian form of the legend, to be dated in the flowering period of that culture
in the middle of the second millennium. The main lines of the two myths can
be established fairly clearly. The first, whose title is unknown, may be called
the Myth of the Kingdom in the Sky. It tells of a sequence of four divinities —
Alalu, Anu, Kumarbi, Skygod — the last of whom has been convincingly
identified as the Hurrian-Hittite Teschub. This is a succession-myth, in which
changes of rule are brought by violence. It is the fate of Anu which particularly
attracts our attention. His name is connected with Sumerian ‘an’=‘sky’; and
the manner in which he is driven from throne and power reminds us of the
castration of Uranus by Cronus. The tablets relate how Anu fled from Kum-
arbi, who seized him by the feet, bit off his genitals and swallowed them. This
brought on him Kumarbi’s curse, that he should be pregnant with three dread-
ful deities. One of these is the skygod, who wrests power from Kumarbi in the
next phase of world history. How he did so we do not know: the text is missing
here. The second myth is called the Song of Ullikummi. In it Kumarbi finds an
" F. WORMS, ‘Der Typheous-Kampf in Hesiods Theogonie’. Herm. 81, 1953, 29. The
hymn to Hecate is defended by B. A. VAN GRONINGEN (v. inf.) 267, the fight with Typhoeus
by H. scHwaBL, Serta Phil. Aenipontana. Innsbr. 1961, 71, who promises a larger-scale in-
vestigation.
? H. OTTEN, ‘Mythen vom Gotte Kumarbi’. D. Ak. d. Wiss. Berl. Inst.f.Orientf. 3, 1950,
G. GUTERBOCK, ‘The Song of Ullikummi’. The Amer. Schools of Oriental Research. New
Haven 1952. A. LESKY, Eranos 52, 1954, 8; Saeculum 6, 1955, 35. On the whole complex of
problems see F. DORNSEIFF, Antike und alter Orient. Leipz. 1956,
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avenger in the dreadful monster Ullikummi, and the gods of the new régime
are hard put to it to overcome this threat. This diorite monster is rather different
from the serpent-footed, fire-breathing Typhoeus of Greek legend, but here as
there the new ruler of the world, the conqueror armed with the thunderbolt,
has to face a desperate struggle to defend his throne. A particular interest in this
connection attaches to the texts from Ras Shamra,! the ancient Ugarit in
northern Syria, which restored the credit of an author long suspected of
forgery. Philo of Byblus, a Greek-speaking littérateur of the Hadrianic period,
wrote among many other works a Phoenician History (Dowucikd), in which he
referred to the work of one Sanchuniathon who is alleged to have lived before
the Trojan war. In his Praeparatio Evangelica Eusebius gives some long fragments
of cosmogony from the first book of Philo’s history. For a long time Philo was
reckoned a swindler who had stolen his material from Hesiod’s Theogony. But
a different complexion was put on the case by the appearance in the Ras Shamra
tablets — coming from 1400-1200, the times of the alleged Sanchuniathon — of
myths and cult texts agreeing with various of Philo’s statements. In these tablets
also we have a near eastern myth of successive divine rulers, which, despite
individual variants, belongs essentially to the class we have described. More
recently the ‘creation-myth’ of the Babylonians (called Enuma elix from its
opening words) has been recognized as a particularly old representative of this
type of myth.?
All these striking discoveries have proved beyond doubt that Hesiod’s narra-
tive of Uranus, Cronus and Zeus is in the main stream of an ancient tradition.
The Hittite and Ras Shamra texts belong to the same tradition, but its origin is
now lost to us. How was it brought to Greece? There are two possibilities: that
the Phoenicians were intermediaries, or that Greeks in Asia Minor (say around
Miletus or Rhodes, where they had been established since Mycenaean times)
learned the succession-myth and others from their neighbours. We must be
careful not to simplify the problem unrealistically: we must remember that
Hesiod may have been in touch with old traditions going back to pre-Hellenic
times, and that Boeotia would have been the most likely place for such survivals.
For the Theogony we must suppose a multiple tradition, which is expressed in
the heterogeneous nature of its contents. And we should not forget that Hesiod’s
father came from Asia Minor.
One feature may be mentioned which clearly shows how closely Hesiod
adheres to ancient tradition. In relating the history of Uranus and Cronus the
Theogony exhibits several individual features. The children of Uranus and Gaea
are hated by their father from the first. As soon as they are born he conceals
them in a hollow in the earth. The earth, resenting this treatment, causes iron
to grow, and with it she makes a sickle-shaped knife (the harpe of the Near East),
which Cronus uses to emasculate his father as he is about to have intercourse

1c. H. GORDON, Ugaritic Literature. Rome 1949. K. MRAS, *Sanchuniathon’. Anz. Oest.
Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1952, 175. Text of Herennius Philo in F Gr Hist Ill C2, 802-804.
2 G. STEINER, Der Sukzessionsmythos in Hesiods ‘Theogonie’ und ihren orientalischen Paral-
lelen. Diss. Hamb. 1958 (typewritten); id., Ant, u, Abendl, 6, 1957, 171.
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with Gaea. Here we have a myth of the separation of heaven and earth that
recurs all over the world,! and which is represented in the Hittite texts that we
have mentioned. At the same time this episode brings out clearly an important
element in the Theogony as a whole. Uranus and Gaea are deities who think and
act and are accordingly thought of in anthropomorphic terms. But at the same
time they stand for sky and earth as parts of the physical world: Uranus con-
ceals the children in a hollow in Gaea, and Gaea brings iron into existence. This
complete fluidity of the boundaries between the concrete natural phenomenon
and the anthropomorphic picture of the gods is characteristic of archaic Greek
thought in general and of Hesiod in particular. In the realm of the so-called
‘lower mythology’, with its rivers and river-gods, mountains and mountain-
gods, woods and wood-nymphs, the old ways of thought lasted a long time;
and Hellenistic sophistication — with Ovid treading in its footsteps — found here
many opportunities for light-hearted invention.
Such new discoveries as these have given impetus to the search for ancient
tradition as a component part of the Theogony. But the importance of such
elements should not be overstated. On the contrary, the new material has at
last enabled us to fix upon Hesiod’s own achievement as the decisive factor in
the poem. His original contribution is not always easy to define, but the indivi-
dual tone of many passages and the forceful way in which they are presented
make us think that we must recognize here the original genius of the author.
Above all, Hesiod takes a great step forward from the succession-myth as
known to us from the Near East. In the Theogony the theme is not the bare
succession of different divine rulers, but an evolution leading up to Zeus. The
Olympian sky-god is no vulgar tyrant, as the others were: in him a great and
everlasting ordinance is fulfilled. Early in the poem (73) the author shows
awareness of such an ordinance and of the distribution of spheres of power
among the immortals. The victory of Zeus over Cronus and the Titans confirms
this ordinance, and thus the Titanomachia is the culminating point of the poem.
In putting this valuation upon the governance of Zeus Hesiod goes a great deal
farther than Homer. The scenes of married strife in Olympus would presumably
have been taken by Hesiod as exemplifying the falsehood spread by the Muses.
With him a line of development begins which is to culminate in the sublime
Aeschylean conception of Zeus. But he did not in consequence regard this world
as the best of all possible. The profound pessimism which he consistently
displays in the Erga is lurking in the background of the Theogony also, as we
shall soon see. We can recognize here two opposite tendencies whose conflict
imparts a constant movement to both poems.
The story of the succession, Uranus-Cronus-Zeus, in the deeper meaning which
Hesiod gave it, forms a basic element to the Theogony. But how vast the material
isin which it is embedded! After the prooemium, when the poet begins his nar-
ration, he tells of the origin of the world. At the beginning of his comogony
stands Chaos. It was not until much later that this word acquired the meaning of
lawlessness and confusion. We should avoid any speculation that tries to turn
* W. STAUDACHER, Die Trennung von Himmel und Erde. Diss. Tiibingen 1942.
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Hesiod’s chaos into some startling abstraction. This tendency began as early as
Aristotle (Phys. 4. 1. 208b28), who took chaos to mean ‘space’. But in Hesiod
nothing more is meant than the yawning deep (ydos from yaivw) as the origin
of all things: a conception which recurs in oriental cosmogonies and is certainly
not an invention of Hesiod’s.!
Another indication that Hesiod is working here with borrowed elements is
the often fragmentary nature of his story. ‘First came Chaos into existence . . .’:
whence it came we are not told. And when the earth, the scene of the later
events, and Eros make their appearance, all that seems clear is that they arose of
their own, not by an act of creation. Eros also — as we can infer from Philo’s
Pothos —is derived from ancient speculative cosmogonies: certainly Hesiod has
not made a great cosmic deity out of the god whom men worshipped in the
form of a stone at neighbouring Thespiae.
Now the sequence of begetting and pairing begins. Chaos gives birth to
Erebus (darkness) and Night. The union of the two gives rise to their opposites
Aether (the pure upper air) and Day. Earth in her turn gives rise to the starry
heaven, the mountains and the raging sea. Hesiod goes out of his way to tell us
that the last was produced without sexual union; but it was so also with the
heavens and the mountains.
The births now follow each other more and more swiftly. Eros is not credited
with any progeny, but we may assume his activity in all the couplings, despite
Hesiod’s silence. The increasing posterity is divided into three branches: the
descendants of Night, of Uranus and Gaea, and of the Sea. The second and third
groups interbreed extensively; the first remains sharply set apart from them.
As the number of the entities increases, so the main lines of cosmogony
recede into the background. Hesiod does not in fact devote any more space to
coming-to-be; rather to the explanation of the existing, to the representing of
the beings and powers of this world. For this purpose the genealogical scheme?
remains the dominating form. His explanations range from the purely super-
ficial to such significant strokes as making Eris (strife) the mother of Sorrow,
Oblivion, Hunger and Pain.
The central place is still occupied by the progeny of Uranus and Gaea,
leading through Cronus and the Titans to Zeus. For the rest, the poem is like a
timber-framed house, with a bewildering multiplicity of uprights, crossbeams,
braces and struts. In this attempted picture of the world myth and reality are
inextricably interwoven; or more accurately, the age was one which saw the
reality of the universe only in the shape of myth. The statement frequently
made that Hesiod represents the beginning of Greek philosophy can only be
accepted with great reservations.
This is not to say that such a poem could not be a vehicle for philosophy.
The opposite is in fact shown by the progeny of Night. Among them (211 ff.)
Hesiod numbers all those formless powers that work so much suffering in
human life: the powers of death, Reproach, Poverty, Wrath, Deceit, Age and
™ On the representation of chaos: u. HOLSCHER, Herm. 81, 1953, 398.
2 p, PHILIPPSON, ‘Genealogie als mythische Form’. Symb. Osl. Suppl. 7, 1930.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Strife with her frightful brood. A hint of such a conception may be found in the
Iliad, as in the words of Agememnon in 19. 91 about Ate (fatal blindness), or in
Phoenix’s allegory of the Litae (prayers) in 9. 502; but Hesiod goes much
farther and opens to us a social milieu in which the darker side of life was more
immediately and deeply experienced than among the nobility.
We mistake the sense of this archaic poetry if in this and similar passages we
talk of personification.! In the phenomena of the world,,in the forces that
actuated them and in the relations between them, the Greek of this period had
an immediate perception of divine power. A striking example is provided by
the recognition scene in Euripides’ Helen, where the husband and wife cry (560):
‘O gods! For a god is it to find again one’s love.’
The section which we have considered well illustrates how freely Hesiod
applies his chosen system of division. Among the children of night we also find
Sleep — assuredly no evil in itself, but mentioned by Homer as the brother of
Death, and associated with night-time. Even less expected in this company are
the Hesperides. The reason for their inclusion is quite superficial: they guard the
golden apples on the far side of Ocean; hence they belong to the west, the realm
of Night (275). We may easily see why Love (Philotes) rubs shoulders with
Deceit. Hesiod was sternly critical of women: in the Erga (375) he observes that
anyone who trusts a woman, trusts a betrayer — an anticipation of the misogyny
of Semonides. A similar attitude makes the point of the story about the punish-
ment of Prometheus, son of the Titan Iapetus (521). In the division of a sacrifice
he cheated Zeus, giving him only bones and fat. But according to old legends
(although the Muses are capable of lying) in fact Zeus was well aware of the
deceit, and avenged himself on the human race by withholding the gift of fire.
When Prometheus stole it for them, he had the Titan chained and riveted to a
crag where an eagle devoured his liver. In due course Heracles killed the eagle
and freed Prometheus — not of course without the will of Zeus, as the pious poet
insists. But thereupon Zeus sent woman into the world, formed by the gods
to be a beautiful evil, first of a useless and idle race of women, a plague to
men.
Among the progeny of Earth and Sea we find such personal deities as the
Titans or the old man of the sea, Nereus with his lovely daughters, such fabulous
monsters as the Cyclopes and the hundred-handed Briareus, or again such
natural phenomena as the sun, moon, dawn and the winds. In reading of the
great family of the rivers, which are listed by name (337), we are again dealing
with entities halfway between concrete phenomena and anthropomorphic
divinities.
Presumably so systematic a genealogy must be mostly the poet’s own work.
We see him most clearly when he remodels old conceptions so as to display
the world as the scene of action by divine powers. To speak of Hesiod as a pure
pessimist would be to misunderstand him. He sees the world as full of the children
of Night, plaguing humanity; but his language here as in the Erga bids them a
' L. PETERSEN, Zur Geschichte der Personifikation. Wiirzburg 1939. K. REINHARDT, ‘Personi-
fikation und Allegorie’. Vermdchtnis der Antike. Gottingen 1960, 7.
98
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

sturdy defiance. Lies and falsehood, sickness and hunger lie in wait for mankind,
but there are also good powers which sustain and bless. These powers are
grouped around Zeus.
The Seasons are ancient forces of nature, by which things are ripened and
made beautiful. The names given to them — Thallo, Auxo and Carpo ~ identified
them with fowering, growth and fruition. But Hesiod brings them wholly
into the realm of moral powers. Zeus begat them together with Themis
(righteousness): their names are Eunomia, Dike and Eirene - Lawfulness, Right
and Peace. The Graces also, Aglaia, Euphrosyne and Thalia, are children of
Zeus, and they shed around him brightness, happiness and enjoyment. Mne-
mosyne (memory) bore him the nine Muses, the bringers of wisdom and
learning, as they declare themselves in the opening of the Theogony. The poet’s
thought develops further in what follows. Before the decisive battle, Zeus
promises everlasting honour to the deities who will fight on his side. After the
victory Styx gives him her children to be his inseparable companions. Their
names (384) are Ardour and Victory, Strength and Force. Neither good nor
bad in themselves, these powers are now ranged with Zeus and associated with
his enduring empire. Before the great battle he also freed three Cyclopes from
the chains into which Uranus had thrown them. Their names are Thunder,
Lightning and Brightness. It is they who give him the weapons with which he
wields his powerful sway in the universe. Thus both the powers of beauty and
light and those of darkness and fear are for ever linked to Zeus.
The union of Zeus and Themis produces not only the Seasons, but other and
still more important progeny. Themis bears him the Fates (Moirai, v. 904),
which bring good or bad luck to men. Thus the goddesses of fate are affiliated
to Zeus, and an answer is given (at least where precedence is concerned) to the
old question of the relation between the personal deities and an impersonal
fate.
Formal analysis of the Theogony recently took an important step forward
with the work of Hans Schwabl,! who has found in one section of the Titano-
machia a number of recurring patterns (which can hardly be accidental) in words
and themes. He has not followed the lead of O. F. Gruppe or G. Hermann in
trying to force the whole poem into a framework of stanzas, but he has suc-
ceeded in showing a tendency towards ten-verse units in the part that he has
studied. Structural analysis of this kind shows the great difference between
Homeric and Hesiodic hexameter poetry. At the same time it gives fresh grounds
for defending the text against too facile assumptions of interpolation. It is
nevertheless very hard to explain the phenomena for which Schwabl has made
out this prima facie case. Rhythmic principles must be involved which we find
difficult to grasp; and no doubt the musical element (as something perceived by
the mind’s ear) played a larger part than we would readily suppose. The
fact that Hesiod was working with a stock of formal elements provided by
the epic tradition may have contributed in some way to this peculiar type of
1 ‘Beobachtungen zur Poesie des Hesiod.’ (Theog. 29-42; 829-835; 617-724) Serta Philol.
Aenipontana. Innsbr. 1961, 69.
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composition. Recent misconceptions! make it necessary to say once more that

the part played by formulae in Hesiod does not instantly make him an ‘oral
poet’.
In the Erga we are dealing with a work of the most singular nature. The poem
is commonly called the ‘Works and Days’, although the section on the choice
of appropriate days cannot be assigned to Hesiod. The genuine part can only
be called a didactic poem if we make allowance for all the archaic qualities of
profusion and variety. The sequence of thought is rather like that in the Theo-
gony, but to a more marked degree. One can see the connection between one
step and the next, but any firm main lines of composition are lacking. The poem
darts hither and thither; yet certain ideas do recur with some frequency and
emphasis.
In the first part of the Erga the inner structure is determined by two anti-
theses. The occasion of the poem is nominally a particular circumstance: the
dispute between Hesiod and his brother Perses over the division of their father’s
land. The poet has had unhappy experience of the justice of aristocratic owners.
But the particular here is only an excuse for the general, and Hesiod plunges
into a discussion of all the powers to which human life is subject. The second
antithesis is one which we met in the Theogony, and it holds a central position
in Hesiod’s thought: the conflict in the poet’s mind between a pessimistic view
of the world and a pious belief in absolute moral values.
The Theogony is essentially a glorification of the might of Zeus; and it is
with a hymn to Zeus that the Erga opens. It is nothing new to be told that the
god has the power to raise and to cast down; but when we read that he
‘straightens the crooked without difficulty’, we are brought into touch with
two fundamental notions of archaic ethical terminology. One of the character-
istic notes is struck when the poet calls upon Zeus to establish the rule of justice.
The last line of the prooemium declares Hesiod’s intention to teach his brother
the truth; and in consequence he repeatedly thereafter turns aside from his
general treatment to address him in person.
In the Theogony (225) Hesiod numbered among the children of Night the
goddess of strife, Eris. Now he gives striking indication how steady and perse-
vering his thought-processes were: he corrects himself—characteristically in the
form ofa myth. It was wrong, he says, to speak of one Eris: in fact there are two, of
very different qualities. The one is evil and is sent by the gods to plague mankind;
it is she who stirs up quarrels and warfare. The good Eris, however, has been
sunk by Zeus deep in the earth, so that she should become a living force active
among men. This Eris is honourable competition, which makes the achieve-
ment of one man act as a stimulus to another to equal or (more truly Greek) to
surpass him.
This is the point of departure for the two basic ideas of the poem. Perses
ought to abandon the evil strife between the two brothers. This introduces
* A. HOEKSTRA, ‘Hésiode et la tradition orale. Contribution 4 l’étude du style formulaire’.
Mnem. s. 4, 10, 1957, 193. J. A. NOTOPULOS, ‘Homer, Hesiod and the Achaean Heritage of
Oral Poetry’. Hesperia 29, 1960, 177.
100
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

what Hesiod has to say about the power and value of justice. Perses ought to be
directed by the power of the good Eris into gaining his livelihood by honest
toil. This leads to the section on the life and work of the peasant.
Toil and hardship have been decreed once for all as the lot of man: the
gods have denied him an easy inheritance. This state of affairs is explained by
two myths, partly complementing each other. Just as in the myth of the two
Erides, we see here Hesiod’s mind grappling with the problems of human life.
Certainly the myths could hardly have been intended to claim unqualified
credence as factual narrative.
The poet takes up again the story which he had told in the Theogony about
Prometheus’ theft of fire and its punishment by Zeus who sent woman onto the
earth. Here he takes the story further. Woman was made by Hephaestus out of
earth and fire; all the gods endowed her with captivating and dangerous gifts.
In consequence she received the name Pandora (in all probability this was the
name of an ancient earth-goddess). Despite the warnings of Prometheus, Epi-
metheus received the bewitching stranger. When she opened the lid of the box
(pithos) that she presumably brought with her (we are not told where it came
from), out flew every evil and plague to infest the world. Hope alone was left
in the box when Pandora shut it again. A great many subtle interpretations of
this passage have been put forward, but the explanation is quite plain. Hope is
naturally meant as a blessing for suffering humanity. As such it has its place in a
parable like that told by Achilles in Iliad 24. 527 of the two jars in the palace of
Zeus, which contain good and evil respectively. The closing of the jar contain-
ing good things means the withholding of them; the opening of the other means
the release of evils upon the world. In Hesiod’s story of Pandora the two have
become fused, and some obscurity has been caused thereby.?
The miseries of the world form the subject of another of Hesiod’s myths. He
depicts five successive ages in which the human lot becomes steadily worse.
Such a view of history is in the sharpest contrast to the evolutionary optimism
that we shall find in the age of the Greek enlightenment. Four of the ages are
associated with metals. The first or golden age is that of Cronus, from which,
by way of silvern and brazen ages, one descends to the age of iron, in which
we are condemned to live. The myth stands by itself and apart: Cronus as the
beginning of a steady decline from paradisal conditions is irreconcilable with
the picture in the Theogony, in which there is an upward trend to the reign of
Zeus. The myth can hardly have been Hesiod’s own invention, as is shown by
the difficulties that it gives him. His age was still strongly influenced by the
epics with their tales of the heroic deeds of ancient days. On all sides were cults
of heroes; even their graves were pointed out. Hesiod could hardly assign such

1 a. LEsKY, Wien. Stud. 55, 1937, 21. Different interpretation: H. FRANKEL, Wege und
Formen friihgriechischen Denkens. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 329 (slightly modified in the Festschr.
f. Reitzenstein 1931). O. LENDLE, Die Pandorasage bei Hesiod. Wurzburg 1957; cf. J. H. KUHN,
Gnom. 31, 1957, 114, and Gc. Broccta, La parola del passato 62, 1958, 296. Pandora’s ‘box’
is a Renaissance myth going back to Erasmus: p. and gE. PANOFSKY, Pandora’s Box. New
York 1956, IS.
IOL
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

figures to the brazen age, which destroyed itself by its own lawless violence.
Thus he had to interpolate between the brazen and iron ages an age of heroes
who fought before Thebes and Troy, of whom many after their death still
enjoyed a blessed existence on the margins of the world. This adjustment
involves a breaking of the sequence of ages and metals at one point. If we add
the consideration that the connection of the metals with the several ages is rather
superficial, we shall be the more ready to postulate a foreign origin of the
myth. In all probability near eastern influences are at work here also.
Hesiod throws his main energies into depicting the miseries of the iron age,
in which we live. It is here that the evils of Pandora’s box, sickness and all the
other hardships, find their culmination in the moral depravity of this genera-
tion, which aims at the breaking of all restraints and at universal licence. Its
fate will be sealed when Aidos (sense of shame) and Nemesis (righteous anger)
leave the world.
Neither in Hesiod nor elsewhere does Greek pessimism imply a resigned
scepticism. The poet sees a light shining beyond all the darkness; and in the
succeeding sections he makes it cast a radiance that spreads far into the spiritual
history of the Greek people. He expresses this confidence in v. 276 ff.: for fish,
beast and fowl Zeus has appointed an existence based on mutual slaughter; but
for man he has provided a means of avoiding this battle of each against all. Its
name is Justice.” There is the force of religious conviction in Hesiod’s persuasion
of the holiness, the indestructibility, the saving power of Dike; and this con-
ception becomes one of the basic themes of Greek thought and literature. Here
again we must be on guard against taking Dike as a personification. Rather,
Dike is the anthropomorphic expression of that divine power which is felt to
be at work in every righteous judgment and in justice as an absolute value.
To this picture of the miseries of the iron age Hesiod significantly subjoins
the earliest animal-fable in European literature — the nightingale whose moans
are useless in the talons of the hawk. Here the opposite of justice is brought
before us: the unreflecting violence (#Bpis) against which he warns Perses. It is
good for a man to honour Dike, for her power is great. The poet speaks of her
in impressive images, which dissolve one into another in the archaic manner.
She laments loudly when gift-devouring men, corrupt rulers, try to turn her
aside from her way. Wrapped in mist, she brings mischief to the men who
have banished her, and she accuses them before Zeus of the wickedness they
have done. In this poem also Hesiod’s philosophy is fulfilled in the supreme
deity. Zeus sees all (267), yet he has also appointed 30,000 watchers over the
human race: the spirits of those who lived in the Golden Age. In the juxta-
position of these various conceptions we see again the freedom which the mytho-
logical treatment allowed. The contrast of the righteous city, prosperous in all

' R. REITZENSTEIN, ‘Altgr. Theologie und ihre Quellen’. Vortr. Bibl. Warburg 4, Leipz.
1929.
* BE. WOLF, Griechisches Rechtsdenken 1. Frankf. a. M. 1950, 120 ~a large-scale work dealing
with a central concern in Greek thought, but rather unequal in its interpretations. K. LATTE
‘Der Rechtsgedanke im archaischen Griechentum’. Ant. u. Abendl. 2, 1946, 63.
I02
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
things, with the unrighteous, in which hunger, disease and war are the rulers,
also belongs to this great group of images built around the figure of Dike.
It would be wrong to class Hesiod as a social revolutionary. Certainly in
him the sufferings of the small peasants find expression, having been previously
unheard; certainly he sets up the ideal of justice and honourable toil against the
pride of status shown by an aristocracy of birth: but he does so not in order to
change the social structure of his day, but to heal and purify it by the standards
of an absolute morality.
At the beginning of the passage about Dike Hesiod addressed himself emphati-
cally to Perses. With the archaic device of framing, he now addresses him again
at the end. This time he continues his exhortations by representing labour as a
god-given necessity for men: he speaks of the sweat which the gods demand of
the industrious before granting them success. Then follows a string of injunc-
tions in concrete terms directed towards relations with gods and men, leading
finally to the description of the peasant’s year and its demands which occupy
vy. 381-617. We can hardly say that Hesiod has now reached his real subject,
since all this section can be taken as an elaboration and amplification of the
injunction to Perses that he should work hard. We ought rather to bear in mind
the peculiarities and the freedom of archaic composition. The consequence is
that we have here, not a systematic instruction in husbandry, but a mixture of
practical advice and hints from general experience. The whole is certainly still
poetry, as we are reminded by such pictures as those of summer joys and winter
hardships. He has a sympathy with the animal kingdom too.! The harsher side
of peasant life and labour is never glossed over or disguised, but for this very
reason it is here in the first poem of rustic life in European literature, that a true
value is assigned to the work that wins us our bread.
An interesting light is thrown on the economic structure of that day by
Hesiod’s including some advice on seafaring (618-694), although he has neither
experience nor inclination (cf. 650). The poem then dissolves into a series of
detached pieces of advice: the right age to marry, how to behave towards one’s
friends, and the like. Among these we find a number of maxims which in their
form and in their narrow superstitious spirit are so strikingly at variance with
their context that they cannot be assigned to Hesiod. The same may be said of
the final section, on the choosing of the right days, interesting as it is for the
history of religion.
The Theogony ends with the announcement of a new theme. The poet pro-
mises to sing of women whom the gods made into mothers of great peoples.
This ending was a device of the rhapsodes to effect a transition to a poem which
was very influential in antiquity and was almost universally reckoned? as a
genuine work of Hesiod’s. It is referred to as the Catalogue, or Catalogue of
Women or Ehoiai (Eoae): the last title because each new heroine’s story begins

1 On the sepia, the ‘boneless one’ who gnaws his own foot in the idle winter time, see
J. WIESNER’S excellent article in Arch. Jahrb. 74, 1959, 48.
2 An exception is Paus. 9, 31, 4, who says that the Boeotians on Helicon will allow only
the Erga to be genuine.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

with the formula #) of ‘or like as . . .’. This fact suggests a simple sequential
arrangement — the catalogue form inherited from ancient epic poetry. The
Odyssey has a catalogue in the Nekyia (11. 235-330) of women who had note-
worthy careers. We have a fair knowledge of what was in the five books of the
Ehoiae, and particular passages can be reconstructed, notably the story of
Coronis, the ill-fated mother of Asclepius,! and of Cyrene, whom Apollo
carried off from Thessaly to Libya and made the mother of Aristaeus.* Some
fragments of a Suitors of Helen (a catalogue within the catalogue) are preserved
in a Berlin papyrus (nr. 380sq. P.), and they give us a good idea of the very
unpretentious style. Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, nr. 2354 has given us the beginning of
the Ehoiai.3
It is hard to say who wrote the Ehoiai, and it would be wrong to pretend that
we knew. It is certain that much of it cannot be by Hesiod. The story of Cyrene,
for example, must be put after the founding of the colony Cyrene from Thera
in 630. It is obvious that a poem dealing with the origins of princely houses
offered a standing invitation to the forger. The question is whether there was
ever a genuine core to the poem. Since Hesiod practised the trade of a rhapsode,
and since the genealogical principle was congenial to his ways of thinking, there
seems no good ground for doubting that there was such a core. But we cannot
be certain, and the question is not made any simpler by the circulation of a
Great Ehoiai under Hesiod’s name. A poem about Tyro, found in a papyrus
(nr. 398 P.) by R. Pfeiffer,* has been assigned by him to this latter collection.
An ehoie dealing with Alcmena, certainly not by Hesiod, appears as an intro-
ductory piece (1-56) to the Aspis. This poem of 480 hexameters relates the battle
of Heracles (here fighting on behalf of Apollo) with the monster Cycnus,
assisted by its father Ares. The poet tried hard for a purple patch in the scene
describing the arming of the hero: the account of his shield has given the poem
its name. The imitation of Homer is obvious; but whereas the shield of Achilles
depicts life in all its variety, in that of Heracles all the horrors of war and the
demons of destruction are displayed. A poet of limited gifts has tried to elevate
and ennoble a standard feature of epic, but has merely defaced and distorted it.
The first hypothesis tells us that ancient critics were fiercely divided over its
genuineness. It could hardly have imposed upon such a man as Aristophanes of
Byzantium. We are surprised, however, to find it accepted by Stesichorus: can
this Stesichorus really be the choral lyrist? If so, the Shield must have been put
about under Hesiod’s name by 600 B.c. It is just possible; for Heracles appears
here without the club and lion’s skin which afterwards became his standard
equipment.
' WILAMOWITZ, Isyllos von Epidauros. Berl. 1886. Towards defining the limits of the
poem: A. LESKY. Sitzb. Ak. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl. 203/2, 1925, 44.
2 L. MALTEN, Kyrene. Berlin rort.
3 Cf. M. TREU, ‘Das Pro6mium der hesiodischen Frauenkataloge’. Rhein. Mus. 100, 1957,
169. J. T. KAKRIDIS, “HAAqvixd 16, 1958, 219. On pap. Berol. 7497+ Ox. POD AaTes OK.
STIEWE, ‘Zum Hesiodpapyrus B Merkelbach’. Herm. 88, 1960, 253. MERKELBACH’S edition
of the papyri and J. scHwartz’ book are listed below.
4 Phil. 92, 1937, I.
104
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

Fate treated Homer and Hesiod much the same. Under the latter’s name we
hear of a great many works, known now mostly by title alone. The attribution
is understandable where the Maxims of Chiron (Xipwvos b7009Ka1) are concerned.
The wise old Centaur, the specialist in the training of heroes, was ideally suited
to give moral precepts which presumably resembled much that we find in the
Erga. Geographical and astronomical works also were ascribed to Hesiod (I's
mepiodos,' “Actpovouia): when they were written no one knows. He was also
credited with narrative poems, such as an Aegimius, dealing with the exploits of
Heracles when fighting on the side of that Dorian king. It seems to have included
other matters also. A narrative poem of the deeds of Melampus (Melampodia)
also went under his name; it featured a competition in riddles between Calchas
and Mopsus - reminiscent of the Contest of Homer & Hesiod. A Marriage of Ceyx
is also mentioned; but it was probably part of the Catalogue of Women. What the
Idaean Dactyls were we can only guess.

The manuscript tradition is discussed in the large edition of a. RzAcuH, Leipz.

1902. On the papyrus finds (nr. 360-399 P.) see R. MERKELBACH, Die Hesiod-
fragmente auf Papyrus. Leipz. 1957 (from Arch. f. Papyrusf. 16, 1956): they have
been helpful on the Catalogues. Small edition by rzacH with app. crit. and
fragments, 3rd ed. Leipz. 1913; repr. together with the Certamen 1958. With
translation: P. MAZON, Coll. des Un. de Fr. 1928 (last repr. 1951). H. G. EVELYN-
wuitE, Hesiod, the Homeric Hymns and Homerica (Loeb Lib.) Lond. 1936. F.
JACOBY, Hesiodi Carmina I. Theogonia. Berl. 1930 (analytical). Commentary on
the Erga: Pp. MAZON, Paris 1914; WILAMOWITZ, Berlin 1928. T. A. SINCLAIR,
Lond. 1932. A. Colonna, Milan 1959. A. TRAVERSA, Catalogi sive Eoarum
fragmenta. Collana di stud. gr. 21. Naples 1951. c. F. RUSSO, Hesiodi Scutum. Bibl.
di Studi sup. 9. Florence 1950. Scholia: GAISFORD, Poetae Minores Graeci. 31d ed.
Oxf. 1820. H. FLACH, Glossen u. Scholien zur hes. Theog. Leipzig 1876. A.
PERTUSI, Scholia vetera in Hesiodi opera et dies. Milan 1955 (these scholia are
largely influenced by the Neoplatonist interpretations of Hesiod). J. PAULSON,
Index Hesiodeus. Lund 1890 (reprint by Olms of Hildesheim 1963). German
trans.: TH. V. SCHEFFER, Leipz. 1938. Special studies: INEZ SELLSCHOPP, Sti-
listiche Unters. zu Hesiod. Diss. Hamburg. 1934. &. SCHWENN, Die Theogonie des
Hesiodos. Heidelberg 1934. H. DILLER, ‘Hesiod und die Anfange der griech.
Philosophie’. Ant. u. Abendl. 2, 1946, 140. F. SOLMSEN, Hesiod and Aeschylus.
Ithaca N.Y. 1949. BR. SNELL, Die Entdeckung des Geistes. 3rd ed. Hamb. 1955, 65.
H. SCHWABL, Gymn. 62, 1955, 526: see also p. 99 f. There is an elaborate
stylistic analysis of the Theogony, Erga and Shield of Heracles in B. A. VAN GRO-
NINGEN, La Composition littéraire archaique grecque. Verh, Nederl. Akad. N.R. 65/2.
Amsterdam 1958. J. SCHWARZ. Pseudo-Hesiodea. Recherches sur la composition, la
diffusion et la disparition ancienne d’ cwuvres attribuées a Hésiode. Leyden 1960. The
forthcoming vol. 7 of Entretiens sur l’antiquité classique. Fondation Hardt,
1 Did this belong to the Great Ehoiai? R. MERKELBACH, Aegyptus 31, 1951, 256.
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Vandceuvres-Geneva will contain: I. K. v. FRITZ: ‘Hesiodisches im Hesiod’. II.

G. $. KIRK: ‘Hesiod, the Theogony’. III. w. J. VERDENIUS: ‘Die Erga des Hesiod’.
IV. F. SOLMSEN: ‘Hesiod’and Plato’. V. A. LA PENNA: ‘Esiodo e Vergilio’. VI.
P. GRIMAL: ‘Hésiode et Properce’. H. MUNDING’s book, Hesiods Erga in ihrem
Verhdltnis zur Ilias. Frankf. a. M. 1959, is full of baseless speculation. On Hesiod’s
innovations in form and vocabulary see v. PISANI, Storia della lingua greca in
Encicl. class. 2/5/1. Turin 1960, 51.

B ‘Archaic Epic atter Hesiod

The surviving works of Greek literature have to be thought of, singly and all
together, as the remains of a vast empire: islands still rising from a sea which
has swallowed up whole countries. There is the more truth in this picture since
it is normally the peaks that still survive.
Corinth, not otherwise productive in the arts, found her epic poet in Eumelus,
a member of the great family of the Bacchiadae, who told the mythical ancient
history of his city in the Corinthiaca. The poem had its importance as a source-
book, and it was paraphrased in prose (Paus. 4. 2, 1), just as Hesiod’s genealogical
poems were by the logographer Acusilaus. In Eumelus’ Titanomachia the sea-
god Aegacon figured as an ally of the Titans.! His Europia and Bugonia are little
more than names; but we have two hexameters of his in the Aeolic dialect, from
a processional hymn written for king Phintas of Messenia on the occasion of a
festival of Apollo. The ancient history of the Argolid was told in the anonymous
Phoronis; the Naupactica, attributed to a Carcinus of Naupactus, dealt at some
length with the expedition of the Argonauts, as we learn from the scholia to
Apollonius Rhodius, but this cannot have been its main theme. We may suppose
that poetry of this kind was strongly influenced by Hesiod: of the Laconian
Cinaethon we learn from Pausanias (4. 2, 1) that his epic was genealogical in
structure. The saga of Theseus, backed by Athenian national feeling, competed
with the Heracles-cycle as a subject for epic. Among several indications? of this
the most important is in Aristotle (Poet. 8. 1451ar9): he finds fault with the
writers of epics such as the Heracleid or Theseid for not limiting their subject
matter as they ought to have done. One has the feeling that he is speaking of
fairly old poems.
The influence of Greek mainland epic made itself felt in the poetry of Greek-
speaking Asia Minor. In the work of Asius genealogies play an important part,
and the popularity of the Heracles-cycle is evinced again and again. A Rhodian
epic on this theme is ascribed to one Pisander. An earlier Pisinus of Lindus, who
also wrote an epic on Heracles, is a very shadowy figure. Poetry of this kind
seems to have come more or less to an end with the fourteen books of the
Heraclea of Panyassis. This poet, born at Halicarnassus, who fell in battle against
the tyrant Lygdamis in 460, was the uncle of the historian Herodotus. His

? W. KULLMANN, Das Wirken der Gotter in der Ilias. Berl. 1956, 16, 2; cf. allo WILAMOWITZ,
Hellenistische Dichtung 2. Berl. 1924, 241, 2.
2 L. RADERMACHER, Mythos und Sage bei den Griechen. 2nd ed. Vienna 1943, 252.
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Heraclea must have been above the average level of such works, since ancient
critics (Dion. Hal. de imit. 2; Quintil. ro. 1, 54) praised its construction and
placed its author together with Homer, Hesiod, Antimachus and Pisander in the
canon of the five epic poets. The poems of Pisander and Panyassis must have
contributed to the formation of a definite Heracles-cycle; but the notion of
twelve labours (the dodecathlos) does not crystallize much before the Hellen-
istic age.t We know almost nothing about Panyassis’ Ionica, a poem in distichs
relating the founding of the Ionian colonies.
The kind of didactic and proverbial style that we meet in Hesiod was con-
tinued and developed by Phocylides of Miletus.? It is hard to say when he lived:
the early sixth century seems most likely. His sayings were in hexameters, with
his trade mark kai 7é8¢ PwevdAiSov (‘Here’s another by Phocylides’) at the be-
ginning of each. At some time in the first century of our era a gnomic poem
in 230 hexameters was put about under his name. Its author shows knowledge
of the Old Testament.

C Early Lyric Poetry

I ORIGINS AND TYPES

Greek lyric poetry has fared much the same as Greek epic. Here again we find
creations of a supreme artistry, never afterwards rivalled: here again there are
many earlier stages which are lost to us: we can only prove that they existed.
In dealing with the beginnings of Greek poetry (p. 13) we had to consider the
many types of song attested in the Homeric poems. This approach enables us
to recognize many of the origins of lyric poetry, which among the Greeks were
basically the same as among other peoples. An important role is played by cult:
the Achaeans placate the wrath of Apollo by the paean (Il. 1. 372); his sister is
honoured by maidens in song and dance (J/. 16. 182). Cult also has its part in the
songs which accompany marriage or death: the bride hears the hymenaios (II.
18. 493); the long lamentations of the threnos echo round the death-bed of
Hector or Patroclus.
There is another important fountain-head of lyric poetry (not quite, however,
to be reckoned all-important) which we meet in Homer: the work-song. When
goddesses like Calypso or Circe sing at their weaving, they are behaving just
like mortal women. In the shield of Achilles a boy sings the Linus-song to
accompany the work of the vintagers. Songs for all occasions were known to
the ancients, from water-carrying to bread-baking. A tiny fragment (Carm.
pop. nr. 30 D.) —a little Lesbian song at meal-time - which can be dated roughly
by its mention of Pittacus, gives us some conception of the mass that has
perished.
In the third place we must rank folksongs. Such songs certainly existed among
the Greeks, as among other peoples, but they were pushed into the background
1 pF, BROMMER, Herakles. Miinster 1953.
2 Genuine fragments in DieHL, Anth. Lyr. fasc. 1, 3rd ed., 57. Pseudo-Phocylides (vv.
5-79 recur as Orac. Sibyl. 2, 56-148) ibid. fasc. 2, 3rd ed., 91 and D. YOUNG, Theognis. Leipz.
1961, 95.
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by high poetry. Many of these folksongs were tied to particular usages:? we

might almost speak of cult at a lower level. We have already mentioned the
Eiresione (p. 90): to it we may now add the Rhodian begging song (Carm. pop.
nr. 32 D.), in which the children pretend to be swallows, and if they are refused
a gift, comically threaten to fly away with the door or the housewife herself.
The Hellenistic age took a great interest in such things, and Phoenix of Colophon
wrote his Song of the Crows (fr. 2 D.)? wholly in the folksong tradition. There
were also popular songs giving simple expression to personal feeling. If Sappho
is indeed the authoress of the little poem (94 D.)* in which a girl laments being
alone at night, then she looked to folksong for her inspiration; but more likely
it is a folksong itself. Much in Sappho’s Marriage Poems is influenced from this
source; but in the Locrian aubade (Carm. pop. nr. 43 D.) itis doubtful whether we
canassumea folk origin. In discussing the individual types we shall have something
to say about the origin of each; but first we must consider the classification.
The lyric as an idea striving for realization within a defined form of composi-
tion’ is not found in ancient theories of art.* The term ‘lyric’ (Avpixds) is a
Hellenistic coinage, and expressed a definite and concrete notion: poetry
accompanied by the lyre. When the Alexandrians made up a canon of nine
lyric poets, comprising the masters of personal lyric Alcaeus, Sappho and Ana-
creon and the choral lyrists Alcman, Stesichorus, Ibycus, Simonides, Bacchy- _
lides and Pindar, they had in mind any poetry that was meant to be accom-
panied by stringed instruments (Avpa, doppry€, KiBapis)> or by the flute, either
separately or in combination. The term is used in the same sense in the treatise
mept Avpix@v of Didymus, who in this respect as in others served as a bridge
between the Alexandrians and imperial Rome.
It emerges from what has been said that the ancient conception of lyric
poetry embraced two important types — the choral lyric and the individual
lyric sung to the lyre; although the distinction between the two, which seems
to us so important, did not seem so to the ancients. At the same time we see that
two types which we think of today as lyrical were not included — namely
elegiac and iambic poetry. We may suppose that in both of these forms singing
was given up fairly early, while lyric (in the old sense of melic) poetry
presupposed singing. Where elegy is concerned, there is another important
difference: the accompanying instrument was the flute (avAds), and thus it was
' L. RADERMACHER, Aristophanes’ Frosche. Sitzb. Oest. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 198/4, 2nd ed.,
1954, 7 f.
2 It is attributed to Sappho by B. MARZULLO, Studi di poesia eolica. Florence 1958; cf.
A. W. GOMMB, Journ. Hell. Stud. 77, 1957, 265; 78, 1958, 85.
3B. STAIGER, Grundbegriffe der Poetik. 4th ed. Ziirich 1959.
4 H. FARBER, Die Lyrik in der Kunsttheorie der Antike. Munich 1936.
5 On instruments, modes etc.: c. SACHS, Die Musik der Antike. Handb. d. Musikwiss.
Potsdam 1928. Id., Handbuch der Musikinstrumentkunde. 2nd ed. Leipz. 1932. H. HUCHZER-
MEYER, Aulos und Kithara. Diss. Miinster 1931. J. W. SCHOTTLANDER, Die Kithara. Diss.
Berl. 1933. 0. GomMBOsI, Tonarten und Stimmungen der antiken Musik. Copenhagen 1939.
M. WEGNER, Das Musikleben der Griechen. Berl. 1949. A. EB. HARVEY, ‘The Classification of
Greek Lyric Poetry’. Class. Quart. N.S. 5, 1955, 157. R. P. WINNINGTON-INGRAM, ‘Ancient
Greek Music 1932-1957’. Lustrum 1958/3 (1959), 5-
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

formally excluded from the class of lyric poetry. The iambos, as we learn from
Athenaeus (14. 636 B), might be accompanied by such stringed instruments as
the iambyke and the klepsiambos; but this seems not to have been usual. It is
interesting, however, that Theocritus (epigr. 21) praises Archilochus as an
iambic poet and as a singer to the lyre. Xenophon (Symp. 6. 3) speaks of the
recitation of trochaic tetrameters to the flute.
This classification of accompanying instruments must not be made too hard
and fast. The flute and lyre make their appearance (albeit separately) in the
Cretan cultural sphere, on the sarcophagus of Hagia Triada. The wedding scene
on the shield of Achilles (J/. 18. 495) shows them used together to accompany
the dancing of boys and girls. Greek choral poetry, despite its ‘lyric’ character,
could not dispense with the flute as an accompanying instrument. We can
learn a good deal from the history of the Delphic festival. There the citharodic
nomos, a ritual song for a single voice, had long been established. In 582 the
competitions were widened to include aulodike (singing to the flute) and auletike
(solo flute-playing). One celebrated piece was the Pythian nome of the Argive
Sacadas, a song with flute accompaniment depicting Apollo’s conflict with the
Python. Not long afterwards (558) the lyre played by itself, without any
singing, was allowed to compete in the citharistic contests.!
_ It was a foregone conclusion that the two instruments should come into
technical competition. A choral lyrist (Stesichorus fr. 25 D.) speaks significantly
of the flute ‘rich in strings’, and Plato (Leg. 3. 700 D) condemns the folly of those
who try on the lyre to imitate the flute. The stringed instrument, weaker in
volume and restricted in the number of notes (it had no fingerboard) was at a
great disadvantage compared with the aulos or double flute. But the competi-
tion was not purely on a technical level. The lyre was reckoned the aristocratic
instrument, and the flute as a thrusting parvenu. Alcibiades refused to learn it
(Alc. I. 106 E). The ritual associations of each instrument also differed: the lyre
belonged to Apollo, the shrill tones of the flute to the orgiastic cults. Conse-
quently flute music was much encouraged by the great wave of Dionysiac
enthusiasm in the archaic period. It is against this background that we must see
the story of Apollo’s contest with Marsyas. This same ‘battle of the instruments’,
with its social and religious implications, explains also the attempt to assign as
early a date as possible to the Phrygian flute-teacher Olympus: he was even
reckoned older than Homer (Suidas s.v. Olympus).
Ancient subdivisions of lyric poetry, such as we find in Photius (319b. B);
are purely mechanical, but they provide a number of individual notices, to
many of which we shall refer in the following sections.

2 IAMBOS

According to the statement of Pausanias (10. 28, 3), when Polygnotus was
painting his celebrated picture of the underworld for the council-hall of the
! For the historical background of the subdivisions of lyric poetry and for their develop-
ment we have now A. R. BURN’S book The Lyric Age of Greece. Lond. 1960. There is useful
material on the language of individual genres and writers in v. PISANI, Storia della lingua
greca. Encicl. Class. 2/5/1. Turin 1960.
E 109
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Cnidians at Delphi, he depicted Tellis and Cleoboea crossing the river of the
dead. In both these figures he was alluding to the history of his native Thasos.
Telesicles (Tellis is a hypocoristic form) founded the colony of Thasos from
Paros: he was an ancestor — Pausanias says the great-grandfather — of Archi-
lochus. The Cleoboea depicted with him brought over the mysteries of Demeter
in the track of the first colonists. In Paros, which was once called Demetrias,
there was an ancient mystery cult of the goddess. At the end of the Homeric
hymn to Demeter the island is spoken of as belonging to the goddess." It is
significant that the culmination of iambic poetry should have come from such
a cultural background as this; for it is there that we must look for the origins of
this particular form. In fertility-cults a very widespread feature is coarse, often
violently obscene, invective. Such expression of ugliness, just as much as visual
display of it, was in the last analysis intended to ward off evil. This kind of
apotropaic obscenity was used in the iambos, so that to speak in iambs came to
mean the same as to abuse or revile.? Indications of the part played by such
invective in the cult of Demeter are the figure of the girl Iambe, whose jokes
amuse the mourning goddess, and the yedupucpiol of the procession to Eleusis.
The poet who turned this traditional cult-element into a great artistic form
without blunting its cutting edge, was Archilochus of Paros. Various topical
allusions in his poems, notably one to Gyges in fr. 22 D., make it plain that the
eclipse of the sun which he mentions (fr. 74 D.) was that of April 6th 648 B.c.
Attempts at an earlier or a later dating have not been able to shake this identifica-
tion,? which gives us our first precise date in Greek literature. Thus Archilochus
lived in the great age of colonization, an age of vigorous intellectual movement,
which did not leave unchallenged the status and ideas of the aristocracy. But if
to us he appears as being in revolt against traditional values to a degree far
transcending the particular issues of his time, the explanation lies in his origins.
Archilochus was a bastard. His father was called Telesicles, like his celebrated
ancestor the colonist of Thasos; his mother, he tells us, was a slave named
Enipo. Critias, the complete Junker, was outraged by the freedom with which
Archilochus spoke of things which were shameful and disgraceful by aristo-
cratic standards (VS 88B 44); and it is from him that we hear that the poet left
Paros in dire poverty to go to Thasos, where again he made enemies. He earned
a living abroad as a mercenary: in a pithy couplet (1 D.) he describes himself as
gifted by the Muses and a servant of Ares. He experienced military life in all its
aspects, and he may have risen further than we can now establish. He met his
death in battle against the Naxians, and a pleasing legend tells us that the
Pythia expelled his slayer Calondas from the temple of Apollo.
The external unrest of this career reflects the opposition between the man and
his world. Battle was his element, whether he waged it with the spear or the

1 But cf. O. KERN, RE 16, 1271.

2 E.g. Arist. Poet. 1448 b 32.
3B. LOWY, Anz. Ak. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl. 70, 1933, 31. 557 B.C.: A. BLAKEWAY in Greek
Poetry and Life. Oxf. 1936, 34. 711 B.C.: F. JACOBY in Class. Quart. 35, 1941, 97 (=KI. Schr.
I 249).
TIO
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

pen. Anything that was treated as an unchallengeable assumption by aristo-

cratic circles at once spurred him to contradiction, and tradition meant nothing
to him if he thought it was an illusion which he could sce through. In many of
his poems we detect a delight in demolishing cherished fallacies. It is an extra-
ordinary spectacle to see how his whole being drives the seventh-century
mercenary to attack ideas which still flourished generations later.
Fame was of enormous importance to the Greeks. Some saw in it the only
triumph over death. But Archilochus cynically declares that no one enjoys
honour after his death: favour attaches itself only to the living (64 D.). He must
often have experienced the truth expressed in fr. 13 D.: a mercenary is valued
only while the fighting lasts. He candidly tells us (61 D.) the truth behind stories
of great feats on the field: seven of the enemy are slain; a thousand claim to have
killed them.
To the world of Homer the outer and the inner man were inseparably linked.
How accurately externals were observed appears from II. 3. 210, where Antenor
describes the effect produced by Odysseus and Menelaus sitting and standing.
Archilochus deliberately derides such a view (fr. 60 D.). He ridicules the officer
who prides himself on the elegance of his coiffure, and prefers the man who may
be short and bowlegged but has some courage. These words would hardly come
from a man who showed any of the elegance which he derides.
The fiercest of Archilochus’ attacks was against the ideals of chivalry as he
had seen them in the lords of Euboea (3 D.), and he embodied it in the poem
(6 D.) which frankly avows the loss of his shield. He abandoned it in battle with
the Saians, in a battle which was to contest the possession of his unloved Thasos
(18; 54 D.) with the Thracians of the mainland. ‘Shield-dropper’ (pixsaoms)
was a word of deadly reproach: Spartan mothers used to send their sons off to
battle with the affectionate injunction, ‘Come back either with it or on it!’
Archilochus met with severe censure (e.g. Plut. Inst. Lac. 34. 239B) for his
willingness to buy his life at such a price. Yet the same theme is taken up by an
Aeolic aristocrat like Alcaeus (49 D. 428 LP), and possibly by Anacreon also
(st D.). The theme of relicta non bene parmula was admirably suited also to the
spirit in which Horace looked back on the adventure of Philippi.
Themes common to lyric poetry at all times, such as wine and love-making,
occur in Archilochus, but, in keeping with the individual flavour of his writing,
he always gives the concrete experience in all its immediacy, without any touch
of literary convention. He is on watch, and whiles away the tedious hours with
a jar of red wine (5 D.); or he plumes himself on his ability to lead a dithyramb,
the song of the lord Dionysus, when wine is raging like a thunderstorm in his
head (77 D.). We are well informed about his love for Neobule, the daughter
of Lycambes. He speaks of her with a tenderness that scarcely recurs elsewhere
in ancient Greek literature. Only once could he touch Neobule’s hand (71 D.).
The beautiful picture of the girl playing with roses and myrtle branches, with
her hair covering her shoulders and back (25 D.) is unfortunately drawn from
! On the distance between Archilochus and the heroic world: B. MARZULLO, ‘La chioma
di Neobule’. Rhein. Mus. 100, 1957, 68.
LLL
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

a hetaera, if we are to believe the late classical Synesius (Laud. calv. 75). With
Neobule, however, he did not find his happiness. Lycambes broke off the
engagement and so earned the hatred of the poet, who told him that he was
a breaker of oaths and had made himself the laughing-stock of his fellow-
citizens. In fr. 74 D. someone says that he is no longer surprised at anything
since Zeus darkened the sun on a clear day. The context suggests that Lycambes
was brought in declaring that he would no longer be surprised at anything his
daughter did. Probably in the course of this attack Archilochus introduced the
story of the fox and the eagle (Aesop. 1 Hausr.), which deals with the punish-
ment of unfaithfulness.! A story also told of Hipponax attached itself to Archi-
lochus: his verses drove Lycambes or his daughters to suicide.
Archilochus is capable of other tones than those of tender affection, as we see
in the coarse eroticism of frr. 34 and 72 D. We may perhaps believe Critias’
charge that the poet was his own model in this portrayal of vulgar lust. A matter
more worth notice is that a theme becomes prominent in Archilochus which
remains dominant in erotic poetry until the end of antiquity: that love is not a
blessing to man, but a passion that seizes upon him with the violence of a
dangerous disease. It crawls into the heart, blinds the eyes, takes away the
understanding (112 D.); its piercing anguish strikes to the very marrow (104
D.); it looses the limbs (118 D.) — a description previously applied to Eros by
Hesiod (Theog. 121), and to be applied again by Sappho (137 D.).
It was mainly his capacity for intense feeling that drove Archilochus into
lyric poetry. The clearest indication of it is found in those passages in which he
describes himself as capable of unmeasured and devastating hatred. When he
boasts of his power to punish those who injure him, he is of course only pro-
fessing what the Greeks down to Socrates’ time all reckoned as a virtue. His
blood is never hotter than when he thirsts for battle with his foes like a thirsty
man panting for water (69 D.). Critias remarks that he abused friend and foe
alike: no doubt a malicious simplification; but we can see the point when we
find that one Pericles, whom he addresses elsewhere in friendly terms, is vilified
as an uninvited sponger (78 D.). His wildest outburst is in a poem preserved in
a papyrus at Strasburg (79a D.), which poses a difficult problem.? It seems very
likely that another fragment belonging to the same papyrus is from Hipponax.
If then we range ourselves with those who nevertheless assign the first to Archi-
lochus, we may indeed feel confident that we detect the authentic tones of the
poet, but we must remember how subjective the grounds for this belief are. We
must also suppose that the papyrus contained an anthology — a supposition
which the author does not find so unlikely as others do. The poets of antiquity
were fond of addressing poems (propemptica) to their friends when the latter
were facing the hazards of a sea voyage. Here we have the direct opposite. The

* J. TRENCSENYI-WALDAPFEL, ‘Eine dsopische Fabel und ihre orientalischen Parallelen’.

Acta Antiqua Acad. Scient. Hungaricae 7, 1959, 317.
* New comparison of the text and discussion of the authorship: J. scHWARTz and o.
MASSON, Rev. Et. Gr. 64, 1941, 427. The question is fully discussed by M. TREU in his edition
(v. sup.) 225, who gives both the Strasburg fragments to Archilochus.
I12
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
poet describes with furious delight how his enemy is shipwrecked: pinched with
cold, covered with weed, he is captured on the beach by top-knotted Thracians,
who make him earn the bitter bread of servitude. At the end the writer cries:
“He injured me without cause, broke his plighted word — he who was once my
friend!’ This is the expression of a heart looking for love and confidence, and
flashing into fury at deception or disappointment. If it is not Archilochus, it is
someone well able to imitate his manner. French excavations in the agora of
Thasos have recently brought to light a valuable witness to the poet’s life and
times in a funerary inscription to Glaucus, who is often addressed in the poems.!
Archilochus took part in the sung worship of Dionysus and Demeter (77 and
119 D.), and we know also that he wrote a hymn to Heracles. So far as we can
judge from the surviving fragments, myth remained in the background, and
the problems of divine governance did not greatly exercise a poet who lived so
intensely in the present. But a theme seems to have come up in it whose impor-
tance in ancient lyric has been pointed out by Rudolf Pfeiffer:? the helplessness
of man before the power of the gods and of fate — his aunyavin. At the beginning
of the Erga Hesiod tells us that Zeus has power when he wills to raise up and to
throw down. Here the same idea recurs, but with the emphasis on the destiny
of man, who may, as the gods will it, either prosper or fall into hopeless
adversity. Yet Archilochus is not led thereby into either resignation or scepti-
cism. In the elegy on Pericles (7. D), written under the impact of a disaster at
sea, he speaks of the resource that the gods have given to men against all
adversity — courageous endurance (rAnpoovrn). And so the elegy ends in urging
a return to those pleasures which are conceded to mankind. The finest expres-
sion of his convictions is given by the poet in those verses in which he addresses
his own heart (67 D.): it must show courage towards enemies, be not boastful
in success nor despairing in adversity, but be always mindful of the uncertainty
of human life. Thus the fiery passions of the poet sink down at the end into the
wisest maxim of all Greek thought — that due measure must be observed in
every sphere of life.
All the condemnation voiced by writers in the aristocratic tradition, such as
Heraclitus (VS 22 B42), Pindar (Pyth. 2. 54: Archilochus’ duayavia is the cause
of his bitterness) and Critias was not able to lessen Archilochus’ reputation with
posterity.3 A good indication is the elaborately inscribed monument erected to
him in Paros by Sosthenes in the first century B.c. (51 D.); to which may be added
the considerable remains of an old inscription (3rd century B.c.) from the same
place. This also gives large extracts from his poems together with a pious bio-
graphy. The most striking part of this recent discovery is the charming story of
the poet’s being called and endowed with talent by the Muses.
The rich variety of his poetry in content and tone is matched by that of its

I J, POUILLOUX, Bull. Corr. Hell. 1955, 74.

2 ‘Gottheit und Individuum in der friihgr. Lyrik’. Phil. 84, 1929, 137= Ausgewdhlte
Schriften. Munich 1960, 42. Cf. BR. SNELL, ‘Das Erwachen der Persénlichkeit in der frihgr.
Lyrik’. in Die Entdeckung des Geistes. 3rd ed. Hamb. 1955, 83.
3 A. V. BLUMENTHAL, Die Schatzung des Archilochos im Altertum. Stuttg. 1922.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

form. Archilochus’ favourite metres are iambic trimeter and trochaic tetrameter
but he also wrote elegies, made up long verses from combinations of various
rhythmical elements, arid constructed short strophes in which a long verse
alternated with a shorter one of the same or sometimes a different type — the
form now called epodes. There are occasional Homeric elements in his vocabu-
lary, particularly in the elegies; but his language always flows surely and
naturally, without our ever noticing how strict the laws of his metres are —
metres which he took over, as he did the iambos, from popular tradition.
The iambic poet Semonides was born in Samos, but his founding a Samian
colony in the island of Amorgos has associated his name with the latter. We
have no good ground for doubting that at least some part of his life was lived in
the seventh century, and that therefore he was roughly contemporary with
Archilochus. But as a poet he falls far short of him. We may learn this much
from a long fragment (1 D.) preserved, like the Jambos on Women, in Stobaeus.
Here again the conviction is uppermost that man is an outcast: like the dumb
animals he is the creature of a day (€¢7jepos), not knowing what the end is that
god has appointed. Here, however, we do not hear the tones of the Parian poet,
undismayed amid the storm, but the distressed and distressing cries of one who
sees only misery in the world. We do indeed find at the end a tendency to advise
us to make the best of life; but this can hardly have altered the basic tone of the
poem. The notion of the nullity of human hopes also plays a part in an elegy
(29 D.), which cites I/. 6. 146 (men are as transitory as leaves) as the finest
utterance of ‘the man of Chios’, adds some reflections on the flectingness of
human life, and ends with a rather lame appeal to men to enjoy themselves.
Stobaeus assigns the poem to Simonides. Such a confusion of the two names was
inevitable after etacism had made them sound alike. With Wilamowitz and
others I take the poem as an example of the elegiac poetry which Suidas
expressly attests for Semonides. If it is smoother than his iambics, that may be
attributed to the different metre and the wider use of Homeric forms.!
Pessimism is also the underlying tone of his long Iambos on Women, which
has been preserved in all essentials. The denigration of women was a theme that
we met in Hesiod (p. tor), and the myth of Pandora in both forms represents
her as an evil. Behind such attacks lies the mutual vituperation of the sexes which
is a universal folklore element, and which certainly played an important part in
those festivals in which the iambos was immemorially in use. In Semonides’
poem we are not far from these ancient roots. On such an occasion the com-
parison of female types with animals was ready to hand: it occurs with more
brevity in Phocylides (2 D). Verbal resemblances compel us to infer direct
borrowing, probably by Phocylides. The beast-fable may have contributed to
the devising of such comparisons as these.
The poem begins with the assertion that God has endowed women with their
faculties in a variety of ways. The word ywpis at the very beginning has the ring
' The attribution is far from certain. Arguments for Semonides are put forward by o.
VON WEBER, Die Bezichungen zwischen Homer und den dilteren griechischen Lyrikern. Diss. Bonn
1955 (typewritten).
IT4
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

of polemic against the supposition that women had a unitary origin. Next come
nine evil types: the women sprung from earth and sea are flanked on one side
by those arising from swine, fox and dog, on the other by those from ass,
weasel, horse and ape. The earth-woman is a creation of the gods — like so much
in Semonides, this comes from Hesiod (Erga 60. 70) — but the sea-woman, who
has all the sea’s inconstancy, is a symbolic and mythic anticipation of later
philosophies deriving all things from one basic substance. In these nine classes
actual observation of female failings is combined with the attribution of typical
qualities based on the animal in question. Finally comes the one good type of
woman, sprung from the bee. She brings joy and happiness, but she is quickly
forgotten in the following section, an example of archaic ring-composition:
“woman is the worst of all evils’ begins and ends the passage (96. r15).!
Another name in the tradition of iambic poetry, yet one with a place of its
own, is that of Hipponax of Ephesus. According to Suidas’ account of his life
he was compelled by a tyrant to leave his homeland, and went to Clazomenae.
His name and political status have led scholars to suppose that he came of an
aristocratic family. If this is so, his destiny was wholly to estrange him from his
class. Reduced to poverty, he lived miserably as one of those exiles who were
plentiful in all ages as the victims of Greek political strife. Thus Hipponax
complains of the blindness of Plutus (29 D.) - a theme which Aristophanes was
to make into a comedy — and prays to Hermes for a coat and warm boots, for
he is bitterly cold and frostbitten (24sq. D.). He had become a hungry cur,
snapping at people’s ankles. His attack on the sculptor Bupalus was famous:
according to a story also attached to Archilochus it drove its object to suicide.
Later it was said that the poet attacked him in revenge for a statue caricaturing
him, but fragments 15-17 D. suggest that the trouble was over a woman called
Arete. This disagreement with Bupalus, in which the latter’s brother Athenis is
supposed to have been involved, gives us ground for putting Hipponax’s main
activities in the middle of the sixth century (cf. Marm. Par. 42).
The papyri have given us much material for Hipponax, but not in a form
from which we can learn a great deal. One large papyrus fragment, however
(t4A D.),? shows us how uninhibited Hipponax could be. This startlingly
erotic passage reminds one of the experiences of Encolpius in Petronius (c. 138);
and since Hipponax was widely read throughout antiquity, there may well be
a connection here. Extensive but badly damaged fragments? came to light in the
18th volume of Oxyrhynchus Papyri (1941), including scholia of doubtful value
which bring a great deal of dictionary-thumbing to bear on the text. It has been
possible to identify an abusive poem against one Sannus,* which gives us some
help on a question of form. While all the other known poems of Hipponax are

I J. T. KAKRIDIS, in a study to be published in Wiener humanist. Blatter 5, points out some

modern Greek folktales, certainly independent of Semonides, which suggest that the poem
on women incorporated themes from folklore.
2 K. LATTE, Herm. 64. 1929, 385. Id., Gétt. Gel. Anz. 207, 1953, 38, dating the poet in the
second half of the sixth century. 3 Pr. I-XII D.
4 Fr. X, D., cf. B. FRAENKEL, Class. Quart. 36, 1942, $4. K. LATTE, Phil. 97, 1948, 37.
115
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

in choliambics (i.e. in trimeters which have a limping effect from the spondee
in the sixth foot), we find here an epodic form used also by Archilochus: a
regular iambic trimeter is followed by an iambic dimeter. We also find hexa-
meters (77 D.) in which high pathos is brutally parodied.
What sharply divides Hipponax from Archilochus is his wholly different way
of seeing himself in relation to his world. In both poets the immediate impulse
is to seize the concrete situation in all its force and fullness. But Archilochus does
not stop here: he views the whole of human existence, or at least the whole of
his own life. How must man behave in this outcast condition, in this constant
misfortune, this endless vicissitude? These are Archilochus’ ultimate questions.
But Hipponax asks no questions: his verses express the momentary perception
and nothing more. He is essentially a poet of realism, and he introduces a
movement which finally led to the mime. What supported him in his life as a
beggar was that wit which saw through all suffering. He drinks with his Arete
taking turns from one bowl, since the slave has broken the cup (16 D.); he
laughingly describes a painter who has painted a snake on the side of the ship so
that it appears to be biting the helmsman (45 D.); when he pleads in tragic tones
for a bushel of barley (42. D), he is probably not taking himself too seriously.
One feature of realism in Hipponax is the number of foreign loan-words used
in the everyday speech of the Lydian hinterland. Palmys for ‘king’ is a favourite
word of his: even Zeus is called palmys. We also find the Phrygian bekos=
‘bread’, which, according to Herodotus (2, 2) was shown by Psammetichus
through his experiment with the children to be the oldest word of human
speech.
Hellenistic taste found the earthy verses of Hipponax a welcome change.
Callimachus invoked his ghost in the opening of his own iambi (fr. 197 Pf.),
and later (fr. 203. 65 Pf.) says that writers of choliambics all took their inspira-
tion from Ephesus. But his main contribution was to secure by his own writings
a long and influential career for the choliambic.
The credit for writing in choliambics — even for inventing them — is also
claimed for Ananius, who lived, like Hipponax, in the sixth century and in the
Ionian world of culture. He wrote a list of foods according to the seasons of
the year, in iambics — most of them choliambics. This is our first example of a
poem on gastronomy.

Text of the fragments: Anthologia Lyrica Graeca by 8. prEHt, 3rd ed., fasc. 3,
Leipzig 1952, with parallel passages and bibliographies — a work indispensable
for Greek lyric poetry. J. M. EDMONDS, Greek Elegy and Iambus. 2. (Loeb Lib.)
Lond. 1937 (repr. 1954). F. R. ADRADOS, Liricos griegos. Elegtacos y yambédgrafos
arcdicos. 1. Barcelona 1956 (with Spanish trans.). — Archilochus: Editions: p.
LASSERRE, A. BONNARD, Coll. des Un. de Fr. Paris 1958. M. TREU, Tusculum
Biicherei. Munich 1959 (with trans., comm. and bibliog.) The new inscription:
W. PEEK, ‘Neues von Arch.’ Phil. 99, 1955, 4. To Treu’s bibliography we may
116
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

add R. MERKELBACH in Rhein. Mus. 99, 1956. New fragments: Ox. Pap. 22,
7954, NL. 2310-2319; 23, 1956, nr. 2356; on which see K. LATTE, Gnomon 27,
1955, 492. W. PEEK, ‘Die Archilochosgedichte von Oxyrhynchos’. I. Phil. 99,
1955, 193. II, 100, 1956, 1. Id., ‘Neue Bruchstiicke friihgr. Dichtung’. Wiss.
Zeitschr. Univ. Halle 5, 1955-6, 191. Full bibliography in Treu’s edition. See
further: A. GIANNINI, ‘Archiloco alla luce dei nuovi ritrovamenti’. Acme 11,
1958 (1960), 41. H. J. METTE, ‘Zu Arch. Pap. Ox. 2310 fr. 1 col. 1’. Herm. 88,
1960, 493 (with bibliog.). — H. GuNDERT, ‘Archilochos und Solon’. Das neue
Bild der Antike. I. Leipz. 1942, 130. F. LASSERRE, Les Epodes d’ Archiloque. Paris
1950, is overbold in his reconstructions. Verbal index: a. MoNTI, Turin 1905.
S. N. KUMANUDES, ’ApyiAdyou yAwoodptov. Platon 11, 1959, 295. E. MERONE,
Aggettivazione, sintassi e figure di stilo in Archiloco. Naples 1960. — Semonides:
Iambos on women: w. MARG, Der Charakter in der Sprache der friihgr. Dichtung.
Wiirzburg 1938, 6 (comm.). L. RADERMACHER, Weinen und Lachen. Vienna
1947, 156 (trans. and explanations). A. WILHELM. ‘Zu Semonides von Amorgos’.
Symb. Osl. 27, 1949, 40. Imitations in German poetry: J. BOLTE, Ztschr. d. Ver.
f. Volkskunde 11, 1901, 256. — Hipponax: a. D. KNOX, The Greek Choliambic
Poets. Lond. 1929. 0. MASSON, ‘Nouveaux Fragments d’Hipponax’. La parola
del passato 5, 1950, 71; Rev. Et. Gr. 66, 1953, 407. The most recent ed. is by w.
DE SOUSA MEDEIROS Diss. Coimbra 1961; see P. VON DER MUHLL, Mus. Helv. 19,
1962, 233.

3, (ELEGY

In the Ars poetica (77) Horace alludes to the inconclusive battles of the gram-
marians over the inventor of elegy. He gives the original matter briefly as
lamentation — a view also held by Didymus (schol. ad Ar. Aves 217), and
presumably the current one. We have to admit that we are no wiser today. The
word elegion occurs first in Critias in the fifth century (VS 88 B4, 3), where it is
applied to the so-called pentameter (in fact two dactylic penthemimers) which
combined with the hexameter to make the short elegiac strophe. At the same
time we meet elegos in the sense of ‘lament’, “song of lamentation’ in (e.g.)
Euripides Tro. 119. Thus we cannot brush aside the statements of the ancients
who, like Didymus, represent lamentation over the dead as the original function
of elegy. This view may well be right as regards the districts of Asia Minor such
as Lydia and Phrygia, from which the Greeks received the original impulse
towards the development of the form, as in all likelihood they took over the
accompanying flute music from there also. But we have to make the reservation
that elegy, as it first becomes known to us, has subjects of a very different kind.'
It is certainly so with Archilochus, who provides the oldest known elegiacs.
The metre served him for expressing all sides of his life and activity — even for
the story of his throwing away his shield. At other times, as in the elegy to
Pericles, it takes on a tone of advice and admonition which often recurs in early
elegiacs. But we can easily see why Archilochus made his name with posterity
1 p, L. PAGE, Greek Poetry and Life. Oxf. 1936, 206. P. FRIEDLANDER — H. B. HOFLEIT,
Epigrammata. Univ. of Calif. Press 1948, 65.
E2 117
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

as a writer of iambi rather than as an clegist. Some of his spirit infuses his
elegies; but its most characteristic expression was in the iambic poems.
Chronologically we must begin the history of the elegy with Callinus of
Ephesus, who is also more typical of the genre than Archilochus. He belongs
to a period in which the Greek settlements in Asia Minor were gravely threat-
ened by attacks from the barbarous Cimmerians. Since these attacks must be
dated around 675 B.c., Callinus is an older contemporary of Archilochus’. In
that time of troubles he saw the Phrygian kingdom overthrown and the temple
of Artemis in his own city destroyed by fire. Himself presumably a member of
the military aristocracy, he urged in his elegies the utmost exertion and readi-
ness for the supreme sacrifice. The only lengthy piece of his that we possess is
an address on a particular occasion, as this form oflyric often is in antiquity. He
comes among the young men, who seem to him to be hanging back, and urges
them into the fray. These verses very well show what it was that determined the
character of early elegiac poetry, whatever its ultimate origins may have been:
its content and verbal form are so strongly influenced by epic, that in some
sense (as Wilamowitz! put it) elegy is an offshoot of epic. In the nature of things
it was inevitable that dactylic poetry should inherit all the formal elements
which lay to hand and which were familiar to everyone from the Homeric
poems. The similar structure of the epic and elegiac hexameter worked in the
same direction. But Callinus’ thought also is rooted in that Homeric world
which Archilochus rejected. Death will come when Fate, in the shape of the
spinning Fury, has appointed it. This reminds us of Hector’s words to Andro-
mache (6. 487). And when we read of the gallant warrior who is like a tower to
his countrymen, who does the work of many men, we find ourselves again think-
ing of the hero in whom Homer embodied the ideal of patriotic self-sacrifice.
Just like those of Callinus, the elegies of Tyrtaeus have as their occasion and
subject the defence of the city in the arbitrament of war. The historical circum-
stances are clearly told by the poet himself. The grandfathers of his generation
had won the rich lands of Messenia after a bitter struggle of twenty years, and
had recklessly treated the enslaved inhabitants like beasts of burden. But about
the middle of the seventh century the oppressed had risen, and the second
Messenian war compelled Sparta to exert herself to the utmost in order to
survive. The man whose poems contributed to ultimate victory has been the
prey of ancient anecdote-mongers: he figures now as a Spartan general, now as
one sent by the Athenians to help Sparta in her distress, now as a lame school-
master and composer of inspiriting songs (Paus. 4. 15, 6). If we dismiss all this,
the question still remains: was Tyrtaeus a Spartan by birth or a foreigner?
Suidas gives him as either a Laconian or a Milesian. Now in the seventh century
Sparta was open to foreign influence to a degree that was inconceivable later: at
the same time many scholars would hesitate to ascribe elegies in this form to a
Spartan. But these rather vague considerations are put out of court by the
Dorisms ofhis language. Their very sparseness? shows that they were the slips
! Griech. Verskunst. Berl. 1921, 38.
* Some first decl. accusatives in -tés and a fut. in -edper.
T18
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

of a man who had learned to write in another dialect, but occasionally relapsed
into his own. Therefore we do not need to suppose that a foreigner would have
become so completely assimilated to the spirit and conditions of Spartan life.
We may instead take the elegies of Tyrtacus as expressing the convictions of a
man who was immediately involved, probably as a soldier, in the events which
decided the fate of his country.
Tyrtaeus’ debt to Ionian elegy is obvious. The one poem of Callinus is
enough to prove similarity in language and themes. We can trace an interesting
line of development if we compare the exhortation to advance with spear held
high (1, 52 D.) with a similar formula in Callinus (1, ro D.) and with a passage
from the Iliad (21. 161). In addition the language of Tyrtaeus is influenced by
epic style in such a way that we have to consider in some places the possibility
of direct imitation.
The poems are devoted to one single exhortation: to go forward in the battle
line and wager life for victory. If he sings of Sparta’s past, it is only to draw a
moral for the present. Quite consistently in his Eunomia he considers Sparta’s
internal constitution as inviolable, a body of laws laid down by the oracle of
Apollo (3 D.). His words are of great importance for determining the historicity
of the Great Rhetra. We are inclined nowadays to believe that there was such a
constitutional enactment, and to date it about the end of the eighth century.!
Above all it is as the advocate of steadfastness in battle that Tyrtaeus appears
in the extant poems. His kind of poetry, never fearing to repeat itself, has been
well characterized as propaganda-poetry. The hearer is constantly exhorted to
march forward boldly, to grit his teeth, to fight bravely hand to hand, to endure
until death, which is the warrior’s greatest glory. But we are not concerned
here, as in the Iliad, with the individual hero, whose great deeds render all else
secondary: rather we see the beginnings of the phalanx, and it is only considera-
tion of the whole, sacrifice of self for the common interest, that can win the
reward of immortal glory. Yet, as we see with Callinus, there is a thread con-
necting the figure of Homer’s Hector with the poetic philosophy of Tyrtaeus.
Apart from small fragments we possess four elegies devoted to this martial
exhortation. Each can be taken as an independent whole. They show an archaic
manner of composition: the connection of thought is largely associative; ring —
composition is common, beginnings and endings being accentuated by the
weight and emphasis of what is expressed there. Two of these elegies (6 and 7
D.) are quoted in one of the speeches of Lycurgus against Leocrates; the con-
tents show that they must be two separate poems. The third elegy (8 D.) is
a cry de profundis, and shows how closely this type of poetry is tied to the
immediate situation. The longest of the elegies (9 D.) is rather different. It begins
with what seems like a preamble enumerating various personal advantages —
ability at games, handsome appearance, royal blood, eloquent tongue — none of
1 H. BENGTSON, Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 100. A. G. TSOPANAKIS, La Rhetre
de Lycurgue. Thessalonica 1954. On the part played by Delphi in the Rhetra see J. DEFRADAS,
Les Themes de la propagande delphique. Paris 1954, and on the other side H. BeRVE, Gnom. 25,
1956, 18).
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

which, in the poet’s opinion, is a guarantee of manly virtue (aper7). This quality
can only be proved by courage and tenacity in face of the enemy. Such a quality
will receive the highest honour in death as in life.
Attempts to prove other parts of Tyrtaeus’ poetry spurious have now mostly
been forgotten, but in the controversy over the genuineness of this elegy
swords have not yet been sheathed.' Wilamowitz thought it spurious, and his
view has had many followers, most recently Frankel. I cannot share this
opinion. Certainly this poem has not the immediate reference to the decisive
hour of battle which the others have: it is in more general terms. But we have
no reason to suppose that Tyrtacus never wrote except in the trenches. It is
quite conceivable that this elegy was composed in a time of relative quiet, which
permitted a more general topic, instead of the urgent call to arms. If its composi-
tion seems more carefully thought out than the others, we must remember
that we have very little of Tyrtaeus and cannot rule out different stages of
development. What connects the disputed elegy with the others is not only
their similarity in themes and treatment: the decisive feature is the role played
in them all by the notion of manly fortitude, whose fulfilment for the true hero
is death on the battlefield. This conception of the av7jp ayads is at the very core
of all Tyrtaeus’ poetry, and through him it had a wide influence on Greek
literature and thought: we need only mention Simonides’ Encomium on those
Fallen at Thermopylae (5 D.). Scholars have in fact been denying to Tyrtaeus a
poem in which he found the most mature form for enshrining this ideal above
all other values and beliefs of his time.
Callinus and Tyrtaeus mark the creation of that political elegy which was to
be heard as long as the Greek polis had a life of its own and while the orator had
not yet replaced the poet. But it is a quite different tone that we catch in much
of the surviving poetry of Mimnermus of Colophon. We are by now used to
being unable to fix precise dates in early Greek poetry, and we must be content
to put Mimnermus’ life and writings about 600 B.c. Like Semonides (29 D.) he
quotes (2 D.) the verse of the Iliad which compares human beings with falling
leaves; and as in the first iambic fragment of Semonides, so here man is depicted
in all the troubles coming from his pitifully limited knowledge. But the
emphasis is differently placed. While in both the poems of Semonides the
futility of all human hope is the dominating theme, in Mimnermus the stress is
on the contrast between the carefree joys of youth and the miseries of old age,
which the poet here and elsewhere paints with a sombre palette. This lamenting
of the imminence of old age and its trials is sometimes combined with the
exhortation to enjoy youth to the full while one can. But in this particular poem
there is no reason to suppose that Mimnermus did so. A poem in which the
writer pities the human race who vanish like last summer’s leaves, who enjoy
for a brief moment the delights of youth, without knowledge of good or evil,
can hardly have ended with the sentiment that one should enjoy life to the full.
Mimnermus had not the defiant spirit of Archilochus. We must consider it
* Clear account of the problems in BE. MAIER, ‘Tyrtaios’, Jahresber. fiirstisch. Gymn. Graz
1946/47.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

possible that some of his poems were elegiac in the modern sense, and that the
poet who wished to die a painless death at sixty may have felt and expressed
sorrow at the fleetingness of life more strongly than pleasure in its present joys.
The element of myth comes into its own more decidedly with Mimnermus.
A piece of charming poetry (10 D.) describes the nightly journey of the sun-
god in a golden bowl, which bears him round on the stream of Ocean to the
east again.’ The bowl appears in pot-painting as a large round dish or cup.
Another passage tells of Jason, who according to the old legend carried off the
golden fleece from the wonderland of Aea on the shore of Ocean, where
Helios has his palace and guards his radiant beams. Of the first of these fragments
we are told that it came from the Nanno of Mimnermus, to which not only 4,5
and 8 D., but also 12 belongs, with its references to the early history of Colo-
phon. At the time when it was general to bestow titles on books of poetry*
someone named a book of Mimnermus’ elegies after the flute-girl Nanno.
What part she played in it, or how far the poems of that book had a unifying
theme, we do not know. At all events, it must have contained illustrative
episodes, and if we understand Callimachus (fr. 1, 12 Pf.) rightly, the Nanno is
spoken of in opposition to the shorter poems of Mimnermus. Apparently what
we have here is the beginning of narrative elegy. The surviving remains of
Mimnermus may perhaps give us too narrow a notion of his work: witness the
fragment (13 D.) in which he describes a doughty warrior who distinguished
himself in battle against the Lydians. The passage might come from a Smyrneis,
to which we have some scattered allusions.3 What survives of Mimnermus is
enough to show him as a master of language and metre, who well deserved his
place in the ancient canon of elegists along with Philitas and Callimachus.

Anth. Lyr. 3rd ed. fasc. 1, 1949, I. 4. 48. J. M. EDMONDS, Greek Elegy and Iambus.
Loeb Class. Lib.) Lond. 1931 (repr. 1954). F. R. ADRADOS, Liricos griegos.
Elegiacos y yambégrafos arcdicos. 1. Barcelona 1956 (with Spanish trans.). Analysis:
B. A. VAN GRONINGEN, La Composition littéraire archaique grecque. Verh. Nederl.
Akad. N.R. 65/2. Amsterdam 1958, 124. C. M. BowRA, Early Greek Elegists.
Cambr. 1938; repr. 1959. S. SLADECZKY-KARDOSS, Testimonia de Mimnermi vita
et carminibus. Szegedin 1959; ‘Ein ausser acht gelassenes Mimnermos-testi-
monium und -Fragment’. Acta Antiqua 7, 1959, 287 (on Mimnermus in Apol-
lonius of Tyana, epist. 71). JOSE S. LASSO DE LA VEGA, ‘El guerrero tirtéico’.
Emerita 30, 1962, 9 (discusses, among other things, the authenticity of fr. 9 D.).

4. SOLON
We put Solon here to make plain a development which was of decisive impor-
tance in the history of the Greek people. The Athens which Pindar was to call
1 a. LESKY, ‘Aia’. Wien. Stud. 63, 1948, 24. ,
2 £. NACHMANSON, ‘Der griech. Buchtitel’ Goteborgs Hogsk. Arsskr. 47, 1941.
3 Paus. 9. 29, 4. Antimachos ed. Wyss p. 83.
I2I
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the stay and support of Greece, which Thucydides was to describe as its spiritual
centre, which is spoken of in a funeral inscription as the very essence of Hellas
(‘EAAdSos ‘EAAds),} was late in reaching maturity. On all sides we have seen new
intellectual life finding great art-forms for its expression, while Attica remained
mute. But when her hour came, she showed herself able to receive and to
remodel all that was growing and blooming around her. From every part of the
Greek world lines of force converged in Attica to produce that great epoch in
history, the classical age of Greece. Of that age the Parthenon, with its harmony
of diverse elements, is the witness: the Athenian Solon is its precursor, and the
first of Attic poets.
Solon said what he had to say in iambic and trochaic metres, which Archi-
lochus had raised to an artistic form, and in elegiacs like those of Callinus and
Tyrtaeus, whose influence can be seen in his poems. It is also important that we
should not underrate the spiritual legacy of Hesiod in Solon’s works. But Solon
was wholly typical of Attic art — indeed of Greek art in general — in that despite
all dependence, imitation and borrowing, he emerged as a poet with his own
individual personality and ways of thought. We should have to examine subse-
quent literature very carefully to find another personality in whom life and
work were equally integrated into one whole.
Solon was born about 640; that is to say, his life fell in a time of bitter social
struggles. The development of trade and a money economy heightened to an
unbearable degree tensions which we saw beginning in Hesiod. The ownership
of land lay mostly in the hands of the aristocracy, and new and tempting
opportunities for amassing capital were coming into existence. Free wage-
earners and small peasants could no longer make head against these economic
forces. The small man was liable in his own person for debts which he could not
help incurring, and his ultimate loss was that of freedom. It was one of those
periods in which unrestrained acquisitiveness sows the seed of long-lasting
social conflict. Wretched as our information is, we can still see how violent the
outbreaks were that occurred in different places. At about the time when Solon
was born, the mass of the small peasantry in Megara rose against the great land-
owners and killed all their flocks. In the class-struggles which later raged in
Miletus we hear of atrocities on both sides, such as the massacre of innocent
children, which can scarcely be parallelled in Greek history. At Megara we
learn that the instigator of this attack on the flocks of the wealthy was Thea-
genes, one of the first Greek tyrants. The situation is typical: the people, ripe for
revolt, are guided by a gifted individual, who overthrows the aristocracy and
establishes a tyrannis. The word t¥pavvos in Greek is a loanword from some
language of Asia Minor. Being used to denote the sole ruler, as the East knew
him, it necessarily carried the germ of that bad sense which it later developed.
But we must not forget the blessings which the tyrants often brought to their
cities: we need only think of Corinth and Athens. Not a few of these were true
patrons of the arts, and poetry flourished at their courts. Not the least important
thing they did was to encourage the religion of the common people, especially
t Pind. fr. 76. Thuc. 2, 41. Anth. Pal. 7, 45.
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the worship of Dionysus, in whose service the fairest fower of the Greek
genius, Attic tragedy, was to bloom.
There was, however, another possibility apart from a tyrannis: a reconcilia-
tion of the conflicting elements. Arbitrators, such as the individual might invoke
in a lawsuit, were sometimes appointed by the parties to civil strife and entrusted
with the settlement of the conflict. Thus Pittacus was chosen as aesymnetes in
Mytilene; thus Solon in 594/3 was given full powers to arrange a settlement in
Athens, and was given the title of SvaMAaxry}s — the arranger or reconciler.
It was inherent in the economic structure of the ancient world, that any
programme for the socialization of production remained purely utopian.!
Ancient revolutionary movements aimed at redistribution of wealth, and conse-
quently abolition of debts and reallotment of land were planks in every revolu-
tionary platform. With such demands Solon found himself confronted when
he began his work as arbitrator. The confidence placed in him was essentially
the fruit of his behaviour during the struggle over Salamis. In her development
as a naval power Athens had fallen behind her neighbours: if she wanted to
catch up, she must bring Salamis and Aegina within her sphere of influence.
Aegina was not captured until much later (456); Salamis was finally won for
Athens under Pisistratus, but only after a long struggle with Megara for the
possession of the island. Then it was that Solon produced his elegy which was
later called Salamis. Four extant distichs show that Solon spoke as a herald from
Salamis, declaring that, if Athens yielded, he would sooner be a citizen of a tiny
island than one of the ‘betrayers of Salamis’; finally in Tyrtaean tones he urged
the Athenians to war.
Of the two demands — abolition of debt and redistribution of land — Solon
complied only with the first. What precise measures were comprised in his
‘shaking off of burdens’ (cevadyGeva) is debatable;? but he certainly abolished
retrospectively the lien on the person of the debtor, so that many enslaved for
debt recovered their freedom. From his own words (24 D.) we learn that he
took the credit for the disappearance of the mortgage notices from the fields of
Attica. He continued his work by reforming measures and coinage, and com-
pleted it by his code of laws which reformed the constitution of Athens in many
important points.
It is one of the most impressive experiences in the study of Greek literature
to hear Solon himself describing his political actions. But something even more
important is that in a long elegy (1 D.)3 he unfolds that philosophy of life which
gave rise to all his thoughts and actions. This poem has every feature of archaic

I F, OERTEL, Klassenkampf, Sozialismus undorganischer Staat im alten Griechenland. Bonn. 1942.

2 mM. MUHL, ‘Solons sogenannte xpedv doxory im Lichte der antiken Ueberlieferung’.
Rhein. Mus. 96, 1953, 214.
3 R, LATTIMORE, ‘The First Elegy of Solon’. Am. Journ. Phil. 68, 1947, 161. A. MASAR-
ACCHIA, ‘L’ elegia alle Muse di Solone’. Maia N.S. 8, 1956, 92. G. MULLER, * Der homerische
Ate-Begriff and Solons Musenelegie’. Navicula Chiloniensis. Leyden 1956, 1. B. A. VAN
GRONINGEN, La Composition littéraire archaique grecque. Verh. Nederl. Ak. N.R. 65/2. Amster-
dam 1958, 94. K. BUCHNER, ‘Solons Musengedicht’. Herm. 87, 1959, 163, who makes the
sequence of thought more logical and necessary than it appears to me.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

composition. In one place a multitude of ideas crowds into a single passage,

sometimes bringing the reader to a halt by the repetition or multiplication of
examples; in another place the poem passes swiftly from one idea to another
without making the connection explicit. Thus, if we take particular passages out
and consider them, we shall not be doing violence to an elaborately planned
structure.
Solon begins by invoking the Muses; but what he asks of them is notasong,
but the blessings of life. His poetry is part of his work in the world, which is to
advance what is good and just. Accordingly he may hope to receive his reward
at the hands of the Muses, as intermediaries of the gods.
The lines on the blessings of life do not rise above conventional morality. He
wishes for prosperity and reputation. To his friends he wishes to do good, to
his enemies harm — the old moral code of the aristocracy, to which Solon
belonged as one of the Medontidae. In the second half of the elegy a section
(33-70) stands out as having themes already familiar to us from Ionic poetry.
Once more the subject becomes the narrow limits of human thoughts and hopes,
and a long string of examples illustrates what a hard struggle men have in all
departments of life. Whether a man will succeed is known only to the gods:
no-one can escape his destiny. Destiny in Solon’s thought is inseparable from
the will of the gods.
We can see that it is possible to take out parts of this elegy and put them
together into a form wholly within the Ionic tradition. But this would not be
Solon: in the other parts of the poem ideas of a very different nature appear. In
the opening words Solon asks for prosperity, but expressly that prosperity
which the gods concede; and immediately he speaks of the other kind of
prosperity, which only gives itself unwillingly to the man who has been seduced
by evil courses. Such expressions remind us of Hesiod, and indeed we are in his
spiritual world. In the Erga (320) he contrasts god-given wealth with that
acquired by violence and treachery. Solon likewise speaks of the ill-luck
attendant upon riches of this sort. Here we find those ideas prominent which
until far into the classical period are part and parcel of Greek ethical and
religious thought. In hybris, the impious and violent disregard of justice, man
goes over the boundaries laid down for him; but he is found out by Dike, the
personified power of right. In the epic world of the aristocracy it is Themis who
rules, Themis the law divinely appointed to regulate the behaviour of men,
finding fulfilment in the decisions of the just king. The Dike whom Hesiod
proclaims comes from a different social milieu. In her the oppressed victims of
hybris cried out for justice with a voice that was never again to be stilled in the
Greek world. The instrument used by avenging Dike was Ate, that blindness that
is sent upon men by the gods and yet arises from their own guilty hearts. At the
same time Ate signifies the destruction which inevitably follows such blindness.!
As for Hesiod, so for Solon Zeus is the supreme guarantor of the moral law,
Where the elegy sings of his power, its earnest didactic tone rises to a pure and
elevated poetry: the judgment of Zeus comes upon the works of hybris like
‘kK. LATTE, Arch.f.Rw. 20, 1920-21, 255.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

the spring gale which lashes the sea and lays waste the meadow, but at the same
time cleanses the sky of clouds, so that the sun shines again from an unstained
heaven. The simile has a special function: it is a specific medium for the interpre-
tation of reality and at the same time contains the first beginnings of scientific
analysis.! In this instance what is meant is that the vengeance of Zeus falls with
the weight and inevitability of a natural phenomenon. This trick of Solon’s of
illustrating ethical and political statements by comparison with the world of
nature comes out most strikingly in fr. ro D.: as storm-clouds discharge them-
selves in snow or hail, so does the concentration of power in one man’s hands
lead to a tyrannis.
It is easy to see that in the archaic sequence of ideas embodied in this great
elegy two basically diverse ways of thought are united: insight into the limita-
tions of human endeavour and the absurdity of human hopes, together with a
profound persuasion of the moral government of the universe. If we can see in
the poem no perfect reconciliation of these two themes, it is because Solon does
not offer us a ready-made system, but reveals the living thought-processes of a
man coming to grips with the prevailing beliefs of his time and struggling to lay
the spiritual foundations of his political work. When we see Hybris, Dike and
Ate as agents, when we see a confidence in the moral government of the world
side by side with grief at the outcast condition of man, we feel ourselves already
in the intellectual climate of early tragedy; and in Solon, who is in many ways
Hesiod’s heir, we see the spiritual ancestor of Aeschylus.
Solon’s strong tendency to justify the ways of God is shown in fr. 29 D.,
where he tries to explain the good fortune of the wicked. Zeus is often slow to
punish, and his vengeance may fall on children or grandchildren. In a striking
simile (Choe. 506) Aeschylus compares a man’s surviving children with the
corks which prevent a fishing-net from sinking in the waves. Such a feeling for
the unity of a family may have helped the Greeks towards accepting the notion
that God visits the father’s sins upon the children.
At the end of this section comes the one we have already mentioned, with
hope as its theme; then finally the poem turns determinedly back to Zeus once
more. The connection is to be supplied thus: the life of man is full of sorrows,
but often of his own making. Men do not recognize any limits to acquisitive-
ness: the rich have only one wish — to be richer yet. Human greed brings Ate
into play, sent by Zeus to punish the impiety of those who cannot be satisfied.
Thus at the end of the elegy stress is put onto a basic element of Solon’s ethics,
one which constantly recurs in Greek poets and thinkers — wise moderation and
the golden mean. Such a view leaves no room for asceticism. Solon clearly did
not condemn honest gain, and individual passages speak explicitly of the things
that make life comfortable. But there are limits in all things, and to overstep
them is hybris, delivering man up to Ate. This doctrine of due measure was
Solon’s guide in politics also.
! O, REGENBOGEN, ‘Eine Forschungsmethode der antiken Naturwissenschaft’. Quellen
und Studien z. Gesch. d. Math. 1, 193), 131 (=Kl. Schr. 141). B. SNELL, Die Entdeckung des
Geistes. 3rd ed. Hamb. 1955, 258.
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What best shows the consistency of Solon’s mind is that he rigorously applied
to the life of the community those principles which he thought valid for the
individual. He faces the problems of society in an elegy (3 D.) depicting the
evils which he hoped to mitigate by his reforms.’ The poem last discussed ended
by stressing the source of covetousness: it is the same thought which occurs at
the beginning of this elegy, here applied to the polis. Solon’s Attic piety recog-
nizes that the city is under the protection of the gods, especially of Athene. The
dangers come from the community itself. Her citizens are too foolish to be
content with a happy sufficiency. Satiety breeds hybris, which bursts all bounds
and drags them into unrighteousness. To their lust for gain nothing now is
sacred. We seem to hear the voice of Hesiod: the impious disregard the basic
laws of Dike, but she is silently aware and awaits the moment for their punish-
ment. These poisoned wounds infect the whole community; slavery comes in
and inner conflicts lay waste the city. No one can protect himself: even if he
creeps into the innermost corner of his house, the universal evil breaks down the
gate or overleaps the walls. Solon is as little addicted to simile as to ornamental
epithets: such passages are hardly to be called similes; rather they have the force
and value of immediate expression.
The section ends with the poet’s avowal that a command from within him-
self has called upon him to teach the Athenians the evils of dysnomia. Next
follows the praise of the opposite quality, eunomia — a basic notion in Solon’s
political thought. The word occurs first in the Odyssey (17. 487), where the
gods in disguise make trial of man’s moral sense; in Hesiod (Theog. 902, cf. 230)
it features with Dike and Eirene as a daughter of Zeus; Alcman (44 D.) makes
Eunomia the daughter of Promatheia (forethought). The meaning is ‘govern-
ment by good laws’,? and Solon sings its praises in elevated strains at the end of
the poem.
Werner Jaeger has well shown that this poem significantly develops certain
elements of Hesiodic thought. Hesiod also (Erga 225) paints in striking colours
the condition of the righteous and of the unrighteous community. There, how-
ever, happiness or misery are wholly external. The success or failure of crops, of
cattle or of children, the blessings of peace or the horrors of war are Hesiod’s
theme. But with Solon the causes and effects are intimately associated with the
inner life of the polis. Greed and injustice destroy first of all certain areas of
political life, then they lead to a universal infection, in which peace and freedom
are lost. In this recognition of certain regularities and laws in the life of a com-
munity we find the germ of an idea which found its fulfilment in Plato’s
Republic.
The surviving parts of those poems (5. 23-25 D.) in which Solon takes stock
of his political achievements reflect the basic features of his work as a statesman.
A fragment (5) of an elegy has survived in which he professes to follow the

" Literature on the very uncertain chronology of the poems: SOLMSEN (v. inf.)
120, 66.
* W. JAEGER, ‘Solons Eunomie’. Sitzb. Ak. Berl. 1926, 69. K. HEINIMAN
N, Nomos und
Physis. Basel 1945, 64. SOLMSEN (v. inf.) 116. Later usage of the term: G. GROSSMAN
N,
Politische Schlagworter aus der Zeit des Pelop. Krieges. Ziirich 1950,
30.
126
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

middle way; and he tells us that the best leadership is that which neither puts
fetters on the people nor gives them an excessive freedom. Once again we see the
link between Solon and another great Athenian, Aeschylus. The doctrine is the
same as that which Athene in the Eumenides gives to the Athenians as she founds
the Areopagus (696).
In Solon’s poems also we find no sharp distinction between the themes of
elegy and iambus. In both he speaks in his own person, but we can detect that
the elegies are more concerned with general themes, the iambics and trochaics
with particular events. He uses trochaic tetrameters (23 D.) to answer those who
deride him for not having drawn the net tight and secured the tyrannis for
himself. The most attractive of the extant pieces is the sequence of iambic
trimeters in which he gives a retrospect over his political achievements (24 D.).
Justifiable pride, deep piety and a vigilant determination to repulse the enemy
give these verses a stormy tempo unparallelled in archaic poetry. Hermann
Frankel has well compared them with the great speeches in Attic tragedy. Solon
has accomplished what he set himself, and before the bar of posterity he calls to
witness the dark earth, the mother of the Olympian gods. It is she whom he has
freed from the stones of guilt which everywhere had been fixed in her. She was
formerly a slave, but is now free. Here again it would be wrong to talk of
simile or personification in the later sense. The pious beliefs of the old Athenian
had an immediate perception of divine force behind objects and happenings.
He also speaks of the men whom he has rescued from slavery for debt. It is
interesting to see what strikes him as the greatest disgrace of all: many who had
been sold into slavery abroad had by now forgotten their Attic tongue.
The final description that Solon gives of his achievement is at bottom little
more than a variation of the doctrine of measure: with strong hand he has
united power and justice,! and has thus established that union which is so rare
and so transient in the history of nations, but is yet the ultimate goal of all
political wisdom.
There is one short poem preserved in its entirety which does not immediately
seem to fit into our picture of Solon. It makes a rather prosaic appraisal
of human life, dividing it into ten sections of seven years each, giving the
characteristics, mental and physical, of each one. We take the poem to be a
deliberate rejoinder to Mimnermus’ gloomy picture of old age. In the ninth
heptad of his life Solon still has power of intellect at his service; when he is
seventy, he can close his eyes with the consciousness of achievement. His vital
powers are not spent in the pleasures of the senses: what he values is that human
excellence found in the just man (aper7), not the purely military qualities that
Tyrtaeus admires. This arete alone is enduring: unlike Archilochus, Solon
believes in an afterlife in the memory of one’s friends. This view he professes in
an elegy (22 D.) which politely but firmly corrects Mimnermus: he does not
wish to die at sixty; a man would wish to live until eighty, if only he might
continue to learn as he grows old.
t In v. 16 we should read duod with Plutarch, Solon 15; cf. HEINIMANN, Op. Cit. 72, 41.
On the thought cf. Aesch. fr. 381 N.
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The extensive travels which ancient tradition makes him undertake when
his political work was completed also left their mark in his writings. One hexa-
meter (6 D.) mentions the estuary of the Canobic branch of the Nile; three
pleasant distichs (7 D.) are a farewell to Philocyprus, the ruler of Soloe in
Cyprus.
Solon is the first representative of the Attic spirit. We are still some way from
the classical achievement, but in his poetry lives some of that light in which all
things achieve beauty and simplicity.

Anth. Lyr., 3rd ed., fasc. 1, 1949, 20. W. J. WOODHOUSE, Solon the Liberator.
Oxf. 1938. H. GUNDERT, ‘Archilochos und Solon’. Das neue Bild der Antike I.
Leipzig 1942, 130. F. SOLMSEN, Hesiod and Aeschylus. New York 1949, 105.
A. MASARACCHIA, Solone. Florence 1958. E. MEYER, Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 240,
has reservations on historical points.

§ THE LESBIAN LYRIC

In the Erotes' of the Hellenistic poet Phanocles we are told that, when Orpheus
was torn to pieces by the Thracian women, his head and his lyre were carried
on the waves to Lesbos and there buried. The island’s reputation for poetry and
music, which is thus traced back to the great legendary singer, was won for it
by Alcaeus and Sappho. A little time before them the name of the island had
been made widely known by Terpander of Antissa on Lesbos, but his achieve-
ment, important and influential as it must have been, is very imperfectly known
to us. At all events the victory which he gained at the Carneia in the 26th
Olympiad (676/673) may be considered historical.
Ancient tradition makes Terpander the inventor of the seven-stringed lyre.
The Greek desire to trace the origin of everything led to the compiling of whole
catalogues of inventors? — catalogues whose statements we treat with justified
caution. Here, however, the historical nucleus of the story can still be detected.
Certainly Terpander was not the first ‘inventor’ of the seven-stringed lyre, since
we know of it in Crete in the second millennium, where it appears in a scene on
the sarcophagus of Hagia Triada depicting funeral rites. There is Mycenaean
evidence also for the lyre of seven or eight strings. But it is quite unlikely that
the use of the instrument should have survived the fall of Mycenaean culture, and
ancient authorities (e.g. Strabo 13, 2. p. 618) state that Terpander increased the
number of the strings from four to seven. The four-stringed instrument
belonged to the realm of speculation until Deubner collected the evidence for
its existence in the Geometric period. On the other hand we have an excellent

TJ. U. POWELL, Coll. Alex. p. 106.

2 A. KLEINGUNTHER, mp@tos edperns. Phil. Suppl. 26, 1933.
3 L. DEUBNER, ‘Die einsaitige Leier’. Ath. Mitt. 54, 1929, 194. Phil. Woch. 1930, 1566.
M. WEGNER, Das Musikleben der Griechen. Berl. 1949, 48. 141. 227. H. L. LORIMER, Homer and
the Monuments. Lond. 1950). R. P. WINNINGTON-INGRAM, Lustrum 1958/3 (1959), 14.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
representation of a seven-stringed lyre on a pot from Old Smyrna! which may
be dated in the second half of the seventh century, thus bringing us to precisely
the time at which Terpander won his national reputation. Thus there is good
evidence to connect him with the innovation. Pindar (fr. 125), in connection
with Terpander’s invention, says that the Lesbians became acquainted with
the many-stringed Lydian lyre in drinking parties with Lydians. Certainly
Lydian influence on the Greeks of Asia Minor is not at all unlikely, and the view
chimes well with Athenaeus’ statement (14, 37. 635 e) that Sappho used the
Lydian pectis.?
Terpander’s activity is particularly associated with Sparta, where he is said to
have founded the first of the schools (katacrdceis) of music which we shall have
to discuss in the next section on the beginnings of choral lyric. Of his own
contribution to choral lyric we know nothing; what we hear of his methods is
in connection with solo singing to the lyre. There are all kinds of statements
about the rhythms and melodies of his songs, particularly in the pseudo-
Plutarchian De Musica, which derives its material mostly from Aristoxenus of
Tarentum and Heraclides Ponticus. The few surviving fragments? under
Terpander’s name, even if genuine, teach us very little. Pseudo-Plutarch (c. 4)
attributes to him citharodic prooemia in epic metre. These must have resembled
in some degree the Homeric hymns. According to the same source (c. 3)
Terpander also set Homeric texts for musical presentation; and his name is
closely associated with the development of the nome, an old form of song sacred
to Apollo. Normally the nome had seven parts, of which the first four, called
the ‘beginning’ and the ‘turn’ (apyd, wetapyd, Katatpomd, weTakatatpoTd)
showed choric responsion. The middle section, the most important, was called
the ‘navel’ (ou¢aAds): it contained the narrative, and in the earlier period was
strongly influenced in its form by epic. The ‘seal’ (o¢payis) was a section in
which the poet was permitted to sing of his own person and concerns. This kind
of self-expression is by no means confined to the nome: we need only remember
the hymn to the Delian Apollo and the blind man of Chios. The seventh and
concluding section was the éziAoyos.* We saw earlier how extensively the nome
was influenced in its form by the competition between vocal and instrumental
music and between lyre and flute.
The fragments of tradition concerning Arion of Methymnus in Lesbos are
even harder to put together than those concerning Terpander. He has a place
in the citharodic tradition established by the older poet, but the achievements
which concern us most nearly lie in another field. About 600 we find him at the
court of Periander in Corinth, where his innovations raised the Dionysiac
dithyramb to an artistic and elaborate form of choral song. This was one of the

1 G, M. A. HANFMANN, Harv. Stud. in Class. Philol. 61, 1953, fig. 5.J. M. COOK, Journ. Hell.
Stud. 71, 1951, 248 f. fig. 8. H. GALLET DE LA SAUTERRE, Bull. Corr. Hell. 75, 1951, 128 f.
fig. 21.
zsCf. Sappho 156 LP, Alcaeus 36 LP. 3 Anth. Lyr. 2nd ed., fasc. 5, I.
4 On dpyd, dudadrds, o¢payis as parts of the nome see B. A. VAN GRONINGEN, ‘A propos de
Terpandre’. Mnem. S. IV 8, 1955, 177-
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decisive events in the pre-history of tragedy, and we shall discuss it in that

connection. His travels took him also to Sicily and southern Italy, and we shall
later have to consider the possibility that his innovations exercised some influ-
ence upon the art of Stesichorus.
Arion is well known for the story of his being rescued by a dolphin. This
charming tale reflects the fusion of two themes. The dolphin is sacred to Apollo,
and we are meant to understand that the god did not desert his singer in his
hour of need. In addition the story is one of the many told by the Greeks about
the helpfulness and friendliness towards the human race shown by dolphins.'
Herodotus (1. 24) knew of a brazen statue of Arion and his dolphin on Cape
Taenarum, and Aeclian (Hist. anim. 12. 45) cites an epigram on the subject
together with a hymn expressing the poet’s gratitude to Poseidon: both are
later inventions.
Thanks to new discoveries, which have fortunately been more numerous in
the last few years, we have so much material concerning Alcaeus and Sappho,
that in the two poets, ‘a yokepair of opposites’, we can see the whole of Lesbian
poetry. They were contemporaries, and it does not matter which of them one
considers first. We begin with Alcaeus, since the biographical information and
the remains of his poems bring before our eyes that world in which we see the
figure of Sappho as a creature of her time and yet of all time.
Alcaeus belonged to that Aeolic nobility whose character has been sketched
in bold lines by Heraclides Ponticus in his work on the history of music.* A
proud race, delighting in wealth and happy to display it in horseracing and
lavish hospitality; not stupid, but the very reverse of modest; high-spirited men,
devoted to drink and women and to all the unrestrained pleasures of life. A
little before, Heraclides had described the gloomy earnestness of the Dorians,
and we can see that he is striving for antithesis; but undoubtedly he does hit
upon the leading features of the social class in which Alcaeus lived.
His lifetime was a period of bitter civil struggles, particularly in his native
city of Mytilene, the political centre of the island. After the overthrow of the
kingdom, power was at first in the hands of the Penthilid house, who derived
their descent from Penthilus, son of Orestes and fabled colonizer of Lesbos.
Their violent rule provoked their adversaries twice to revolution: the second
uprising was successful. What now followed (7th century) was a struggle for
power among the proud aristocratic families, in which repeated attempts were
made by individuals to become tyrant. This is the background to Alcaeus’ life
and to much of his poetry. Ancient and modern interpretations have often
grossly simplified this period of history and have romanticized the part played
by Alcaeus.
The fortunes of the poet in the struggles for power of the various noble
families gave rise in antiquity to a tradition founded mainly on the writings of
Alcaeus himself, eked out by local legends, and certainly incorporating a strong
element of guesswork to fill up the holes. It is advisable to bear in mind the
™ Some examples in LesKy, Thalatta. Vienna 1947.
* Pr. 163 WEHRLI (Ath. 14, 19. 624 e).
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
uncertainty that prevails on several points, and to emphasize the few ascertain-
able facts rather than make up a continuous narrative.
Alcaeus’ chronology is given by his association with Pittacus, which brings
us to the time around 600. According to Diogenes Laertius (1, 75. 79) Pittacus
flourished (which in the usual practice of ancient authors means he was forty
years old) in Ol. 42 (612-609). Later he ruled Mytilene for ten years, spent ten
years in retirement, and died in $70. In the article in Suidas his floruit is given
as the time of his first important political action — his expulsion of the tyrant
Melanchros. Again Diogenes tells us that he did this in concert with the brothers
of Alcaeus. Pittacus then can hardly have been the plebeian of many modern
accounts. Certainly after their quarrel Alcaeus assails him as a man of low birth
(kaxoratpidas 348 LP), but this may be easily explained. Pittacus’ father
Hyrras was a Thracian and of ill repute for drunkenness. The remains of a
poem (72 LP) suggest that Alcaeus may have attacked him from that quarter
also.
The question why Alcaeus did not take part in the overthrow of Melanchros
is most simply answered by assuming that he was too young to join in with the
men. The words ‘while yet a child I witnessed . . .” are found in a fragment
(75 LP) which certainly refers to political events. From these considerations we
should hardly go far wrong if we put his birth about 630-620.
We find Alcaeus himself at Pittacus’ side in the battles waged between
Mytilene and Athens over Sigeum at the entrance to the Hellespont. His
performance was not uniformly creditable. Once he had to make a hasty retreat,
leaving his arms behind him: they were subsequently consecrated as spoils in
the temple of Athene at Sigeum. Alcaeus took his misfortune in the spirit of
Archilochus, and described it in a poetical epistle to his friend Melanippus. The
miserable remains (428 LP) indicate that, like his literary prototype, he attached
a proper value to having come off with a whole skin.
The same story is told by Herodotus (5. 94 sq.) where he describes the battles
over Sigeum. He there names Hegesistratus, son of Pisistratus, as the leader of
the hard-pressed garrison. This fact has led a number of scholars radically to
revise the chronology of Pittacus and Alcaeus, and to put them both in the mid-
sixth century.? It is worth noting, however, that in the same book Herodotus
speaks of a truce (apparently temporary) arranged by the intermediacy of
Periander. Periander was at his most powerful about 600. Now Page has put
forward what is probably the correct solution of the difficulty. Herodotus is
describing various different phases of this long struggle, and his methods allow
him to bring in also the early phase around 600 where Pittacus and Alcaeus
belong.
Pittacus distinguished himself more than Alcaeus. He slew in single combat
the Athenian general, the Olympic victor Phrynon, whose name appears in a
newly discovered fragment (167 LP). The chronicle of Eusebius puts this event
in 607/6. The war continued none the less, until the two parties, according to
1 Alcaeus and Sappho are cited according to the edition of LoBEL and PAGE.
2 Bibliography in TREU (see below); PAGE (see below), 155.
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the custom of antiquity, asked Periander to arbitrate. He did so, and Sigeum
remained in Athenian hands.
The establishment of peace abroad was presumably the signal to the aristo-
cratic factions at home to renew their conflicts. Events took a course reminiscent
of medieval Italian city states. The new man who returned from defeat and exile
to bring Mytilene under his rule was Myrsilus of the Cleanactid family. The
hetaeria which conspired against him may well have been the same which
overthrew Melanchros, except that this time Alcaeus took an active part. The
narrative which we shall shortly consider speaks of ‘the followers of Alcaeus’,
giving the impression that he was the leader of the conspiracy. This is possible:
but it is equally likely that later writers, acquainted with his literary reputation,
magnified his part in the affair.
A papyrus (114 LP) gives us some sorely mutilated verses with the remains of
a scholium speaking of a first banishment, when Alcaeus’ group had prepared
an attack on Myrsilus and escaped punishment by fleeing to Pyrrha, a settlement
at the landward end of the gulf of Lesbos. At first Pittacus was in the conspiracy
again, but he changed sides and for some time shared the supremacy with
Myrsilus (cf. 70 LP).
In the time of the flight to Pyrrha Alcaeus composed the longest of the
surviving pieces (129 LP): it is an impressive warsong, known only since the
publication of Ox. Pap. 18 (1941). In a temple the poet prays to the Lesbian
trinity — Zeus, Hera and Dionysus — to be delivered from the fate of banishment.
The son of Hyrras is loaded with execrations: at a solemn sacrifice they had
sworn to stick together come good or bad; but now ‘the fat-guts’ cares nothing
for his pledged word, and has now himself become the murderer of his city.
The last word still legible is the name Myrsilus.
A like theme recurs in another of the same group of new texts (130 LP),
which is full of complaints about the hardships of exile. Far from the business
of the state, he has to live like a peasant, like an animal. He has found refuge in
a shrine: of what deities he does not say. But we are told that every year the
temple rings to the happy cries of Lesbian women when they present them-
selves for the contest in beauty. Such a practice is known to us in connection
with the rites of Hera on the island,! and it is very likely that this poem, like the
one before, is connected with the sanctuary of the three gods.
There is one particular feature common to these two poems which deserves
consideration in forming our picture of Alcaeus. In the first he refers to the
sworn purpose of the hetaeria to liberate the people (8auos), and in the second
we hear how: he misses the voice of the herald summoning him to the assembly
(ayopa) or the council (BdAAa). He speaks of the citizens as people who do evil to
each other, but he would still like to be living among them like his father and
father’s father. The passages are of interest as showing that even such a Junker as
Alcaeus was Greek enough to exemplify Aristotle’s saying that a man is a
C@ov modutixov. But it would be a mistake to take them as betokening a demo-
cratic streak in Alcaeus, and to make him a forerunner of classical political
1 Cf. B. DIEHL, Rhein. Mus. 92, 1943, 17.
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theory. It is common in all ages that a man who aims at violence should claim
to be a liberator of the people. And we must think of the assembly and council
not in terms of Athens in Cleon’s time, but in terms of the assembly in the
second book of the Iliad. There also the herald summons the assembly and the
old men take their places, but what happens is dictated by the ‘kings’.
We have two verses (332 LP) from the beginning of a song in which Alcaeus
hails the death of Myrsilus with wild exultation. Horace made this passage the
model for the opening of his ode (1. 37) on the death of Cleopatra. How
Alcaeus’ poem went on we do not know; but we shall hardly be unfair to him
if we think it inconceivable that it contained anything like the magnanimous
restraint of the Roman towards the dead foe.
Alcaeus’ jubilation was premature; the people now chose Pittacus as aesymnetes.
The role of regent with full power and the task of ending the intolerable
tensions by an arranged reconciliation provides a parallel to Solon’s position in
almost contemporary Athens. Although Pittacus in his earlier career had been
deeply involved in the factions of the nobility, nevertheless he was the man to
bring himself and the state back from error into order. After ten years he laid
aside that office in which his conduct had earned him a place among the seven
sages.
There is little to be said with certainty about Alcaeus’ fortunes in this period.
We recall that a scholium (114 LP) spoke of his first exile, which he spent in
Pyrrha. Other periods of exile must have followed.
In the fragments there are occasional flashes that throw light on particular
details. Alcaeus warns his reader against the man who in his thirst for power
will bring the already crumbling city to destruction (141 LP) again, he warns
the Mytileneans to pour water on the wood while it is still smoking, so that it
does not burst into flames (74 LP schol.). When what he feared has come about,
he inveighs against the choice, whose unanimity he does not deny (348 LP). We
could not expect him to call the aesymnetes anything but tyrant; but it is char-
acteristic of his fiery temper that he reproaches the citizens for lacking gall.
There is a similar expression in Archilochus (96 D.), and we see a certain
similarity between their characters.
An opportunity for attacking the arch-enemy Pittacus was afforded by the
latter’s marrying a girl from the great Penthelid family (70 LP). Later anecdotes
make the marriage an unhappy one, and attribute to Pittacus a warning against
marrying above one’s station. The tale is the coinage of an age which saw
Pittacus as the simple man of the people.
A considerable piece of contemporary history lies behind the few verses
(69 LP) which begin by invoking Zeus, then relate in sober narrative tone that
the Lydians had given 2000 staters to the conspirators to subsidize a coup d'état.
Like the poems of Sappho, but in a different way, those of Alcaeus conjure up
the seductive yet ominous presence of the Lydian kingdom behind the eastern
Greeks.
We can scarcely doubt that Alcaeus travelled abroad, but we cannot go much
beyond conjecture. His celebration of Athena Itonia in a hymn (325 P) may
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point to a stay in Boeotia; his praise of the soft waters of the Hebrus (45 LP)
suggests a visit to Thrace; all the inferences, however, are rather vague. Accord-
ing to Strabo (r, 37) Alcaeus himself spoke ofa sojourn in Egypt.
The story of the friendship and enmity between Alcacus and Pittacus is for us
an unfinished one. The story is certainly told! that Pittacus, when Alcaeus was
in his power, pardoned him with the noble words that to forgive was better
than to retaliate. But so many edifying anecdotes were made up about the
magnanimity of Pittacus that this story seems to us doubtful. We may never-
theless suppose that Alcaeus returned home in the end. In some delightful verse
(written, if we are not mistaken, with a deliberate comic exaggeration) he
greets his brother Antimenidas, who has served in the Babylonian army and
has performed prodigies of valour (350 LP). It seems natural to suppose that
Antimenidas was returning home to Mytilene and that the poem was written
there.
In a drinking-song (s0 LP) he proposes to pour myrrh over his head and his
grey-haired chest. This is the only reference to his reaching old age.
So far we have seen Alcaeus from only one side: as a member of a political
club of Lesbian nobles, a man to whom the fluctuating struggle for power,
anger and hatred, exultation and despair supplied the themes for unpremeditated
poetry. The portrait needs a few more strokes.
The poems of Alcaeus are not crowded with simile and metaphor. This
quality is part of their nature, to which we shall later return. But there is one
image of his, worked out in elaborate and detailed allegory, which has gained
currency in all later ages, although he was in part anticipated by another. Some
verses of Archilochus (56 D.) speak of high rolling waves and threatening
clouds, and Heraclitus, a writer of the early empire, tells us that the poet was
speaking figuratively of danger in battle. If the verses of a London papyrus (56a
D.) belong here, the poem contained an exhortation to bring the ship to safety
by right management. Alcaeus (326 LP) gives a gripping scene of peril at sea:
the winds blow all ways, water is slopping round the foot of the mast, the sail
is in rags. Heraclitus declares this passage also to be allegorical, and it would
show great misunderstanding of this type of poetry if we offered to disbelieve
him. The remains of a commentary enable us to augment the already known
fragment by two or three verses.? Considerable difficulties are raised by a
fragment (73 LP) which has often been made immediately to follow 326 LP
(as Diehl has done). There is still no satisfactory explanation. We can, however,
discover the same imagery in another poem (6 LP). High waves threaten the
greatest perilto the ship, it is time to strengthen the bulwarks and to run for safe
harbour. Let no one weakly hesitate, but let all show themselves to be good
men, worthy of their fathers asleep in the earth.
This allegory which Alcaeus found so useful a means of expression has a
long and varied history: we need only mention. classical tragedy and Horace
1. 14. In modern times it has been finely revitalized by Jean Anouilh in his
Antigone. The two poems of Alcacus have sometimes been interpreted with
IDiog: Laert..a, 76. Diod, Oo, 12. 2 305+ 208 LP; cf. PAGE (v. inf.), 186.
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unconscious reference to their many imitations, as if he had meant the ship of

state as it is spoken of by Eteocles in the Seven and Creon in the Antigone, or as
Horace speaks of his new participation in the state as a whole. But we must not
overlook the difference in time and circumstances. Alcaeus is not speaking of
the state in the sense of the later politeia: he is talking of the situation of his group
among the perils involved in the struggle for power.
In a very singular poem — singular in that it consists of an enumeration of
facts and is yet very effective — Alcaeus takes us into a place which must have
been a very important part of his world: the armoury of his house (357 LP).
There is the gleam of bronze, horse-hair plumes nod from shining helmets,
greaves, coats of mail and Chalcidian swords lie ready to hand. The end of the
extant piece is made very neatly to bend back and echo the beginning. There is
no mention of the bow. We are in the company of nobles very like those of
Eretria and Chalcis who in the Lelantine war outlawed the use of missile weapons.
If we enquire into Alcaeus’ personal surroundings, we find that, next to the
armoury, he loved the men’s hall as the scene of happy revelry. In all ages
fighting and drinking have gone hand in hand. We have also the testimony of
Athenaeus (ro. 430) that at all seasons and in all circumstances the poet might
be found at the bowl. In the usual manner of such dusty erudition, he follows
the statement with examples, for which we are very grateful. Here we find the
pretty winter song on which Horace modelled his Vides ut alta stet nive, and the
poem in which Alcaeus starts by speaking of the approach of spring. And
promptly comes the injunction: ‘Fill the lowing bowl!’ The summer drinking
song is in many ways remarkable. “Wet your lungs with wine’,' is the theme,
‘The dog star wheels his course, the season wearies us, all things thirst with the
heat; the cicadas shrill their song and the artichokes are in bloom. The passions
of women are kindled, but men are apathetic: Sirius’ heat weakens their heads
and limbs.’ With immense force and immediacy these lines bring before us a
scorching mediterranean summer day with its shimmering light; yet not a
single touch in the description is original. Its model is in Hesiod (Erga 582 seqq.).
Once again we see the force of tradition in an art which did not concern itself
wholly or even predominantly with unqualified new creation.
This Acolian aristocracy was in many aspects of its life the true inheritor of
Homer’s world. Here again there is no comfortable belief in a life beyond the
grave. Indeed they are a little worse off in this respect, for we find no reflection
of the confidence which epic heroes had of surviving in reputation. Yet another
song (38 LP) begins with praise of the winecup, and Alcaeus reminds his boon
companions that the journey across Acheron is a journey out of the sunlight for
ever. Horace echoes the theme in the fourth ode of the first book. In Alcaeus’
poem we find also a rare ingredient — mythology. The story of Sisyphus is told
to show that even the most cunning cannot escape death.
What we now have of Alcaeus is miserable fragments compared with the
edition prepared by the Alexandrians Aristophanes and Aristarchus, which
1 On the curious anatomy see Gellius 17. 11. 1; Macr. Sat. 7. 15. 2; Plut. Quaest. conv.
Tals
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comprised at least ten books arranged according to subject. We shall therefore

consider carefully anything that enables us to enlarge our picture of his poetry.
The first book of the Alexandrian edition contained the hymns, beginning
with that to Apollo (307 LP). A prose abstract of it in a speech of Himerius
makes it clear that the poem was filled not so much with religious feeling as
with highly wrought mythical narrative. Its climax was the epiphany of the
god at midsummer at Delphi, where all nature greeted his appearance. The
quality of this poetry is best illustrated by three strophes which can still be
reconstructed belonging to the Hymn to the Dioscuri. The twin brothers are
praised as giving succour at sea, bringing deliverance on stormy nights to the
imperilled ship. We may compare this hymn with the Homeric and Theo-
critean hymns to the Dioscuri. There are a number of similar features, but the
especial beauty of the Lesbian hymn lies in the description of the epiphany: the
divine youths manifest themselves in the St Elmo’s fire which glows reassuringly
from the rigging on nights of peril. We have the opening of Alcaeus’ Hymn to
Hermes, and from a note of Porphyrio’s on the relevant ode of Horace we learn
that the latter was indebted to Alcaeus inter alia for one charming touch: the
impudence of the child Hermes, who casually stole Apollo's quiver, and was
able to dissolve into laughter his brother’s anger over the theft of the cattle.
Fragments can be recognized of other hymns (as to Hephaestus and to Athena
Itonia): one to Eros (327 LP) contains the pleasing and apparently original
touch that the god is a son of Zephyrus and Iris, the west wind and the messenger
of the gods who comes down the rainbow to earth. The anonymous fragments
of a narrative that may come from a Hymn to Artemis have been attributed to
Alcaeus by the Oxford editors. It would be good to know with more certainty,
since the delightful scene in Callimachus where Artemis obtains from her
father Zeus the promise of perpetual virginity is modelled upon this piece.
The most recent texts, known to us since the publication of Pap. Ox. 21 in
1951, add appreciably to our knowledge of Alcaeus’ use of epic material. One
fragment (283 LP) tells of the sorrows which Helen’s lust brought upon Troy;
another (298 LP) of the impiety of the Locrian Ajax in carrying off Cassandra
from the temple of Athene. We spoke earlier of a drinking song in which
Alcaeus used the story of Sisyphus as an example. We might suppose that the
last-named fragments belonged in a similar context, if such a view were not
negatived by another poem (42 LP), in which Helen and Thetis are compared
and judgment given for the latter. The end of the poem is clearly marked in the
papyrus, and the piece itself, with its strongly marked ring-composition, is
obviously complete. We must then consider the possibility that Alcaeus took
little ornamental elements from the general stock of epic themes and arranged
them for informal performance in his circle. The verses from a very short poem
(44 LP) which describe the intervention of Thetis for the injured Achilles may
also be so interpreted.
Tiny fragments sometimes suggest how much we lack towards forming a
' Ox. Pap. nr. 2378 has been ascribed to Alcaeus, but this is doubtful: m. TREU, Phil. TODS
1958, 133) Goins 32, 1960,,744, 2.
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general assessment of the poetry of Alcacus. The most noteworthy of these

(10 LP) may be called the Maiden’s Complaint to underline the connection
between it and a known Hellenistic poem (Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6. 197). The opening
verse is concerned with the complaints of a female person about some great
sorrow; next the subject is the belling of a stag. No one has satisfactorily
explained the connection. So far as we can tell, this is Alcaeus’ only lyric piece
not written in his own person.
Horace (carm. 1. 32, 9) says of Alcaeus that he sang of Bacchus, the Muses,
Venus with her inseparable son, and Lycus with his dark eyes and dark hair.
Other Roman authors also speak of Alcaeus’ erotic poetry.! But in what survives
there is no mention of the lovely Lycus, nor are there any themes of this kind
Probably his affections were directed towards some of those named as his boon
companions.
Once he seems to strike a philosophical note. But the proposition that nothing
comes of nothing (320 LP) might well occur to a mind not profoundly philo-
sophic, despite the fundamental role it played in some later systems.
That the art of Alcaeus had a great influence is undeniable; but it is hard to
say why. The life of this Lesbian junker was mostly spent between the struggles
of power-hungry factions and the carousals of the men’s hall: scarcely subjects
attractive for their own sake. If we had Alcaeus’ works entire, we might greatly
widen our knowledge of his themes and methods of expression, but our
impression of his personality could hardly be affected. One could not without
reservation call his poems ‘class literature’. Certainly they are in so far as their
whole body of assumptions is determined by the actions and passions of a
restricted social stratum. On the other hand the poet does not make it his
business to advertise in his poems the beliefs and ideals that animate his class: at
all events that is not his main business, and in this respect he is in sharp contrast
with such a poet as Pindar, whose work is purely an embodiment of aristocratic
values. An obvious indication of this difference is that the gnome, or sententious
saying, is very prominent in Pindar, but is almost wholly lacking in Alcaeus.
This comparison with Pindar, the greatest representative of choral lyric, is
also instructive when we consider the formal elements. Pindar’s pompous
burden of adjectives, his long drawn and sometimes inextricable sentence
structure, the strained and strutting sublimity of his language could hardly find
a sharper contrast than the unpretentious poetry of Lesbos. True, Alcaeus varies
to some degree. Dionysius of Halicarnassus (de imit. 2. 2, 8) very truly observes
that sometimes if one only removed the metre from Alcaeus’ poems, one would
be reading a political speech. Certainly the report that the Lydians subsidized
the conspirators reads like a passage from an historian. But in the hymns the
language is much more elevated, and in the poems which bring in mythology
the indebtedness to epic is as obvious in language as in matter. But on the whole
Alcaeus’ verses are well girt up, and their easy flow forms a delightful contrast
to the rigidity of the extremely elaborate, syllable-counting metre.
If we now enquire into the real reason for the influence of these poems, which
™ Cic. Tusc. 4. 71. De nat. deor. 1. 79. Quintil. 10. 1, 63.
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we approached at first with every reservation and caution, we find it in the

singular immediacy with which a robust temperament put into words, with
strong light and sharp outlines, all the impressions of the world about him. To
understand this quality of immediacy we should compare Alcaeus’ winter
drinking song with Horace’s imitation of it. Let us put the short sentences,
“Zeus is sending rain; there is a gréat storm from heaven; the streams are
frozen’, alongside the polished smoothness of Horace’s poem, which artistically
imposes the careful structure of its sentences upon the Alcaic strophe. Alcaeus
is above all concerned with the lively individual impression; his verses reflect
them with a seeming artlessness which we find only in great art. The big painted
bowls wink from the table at the thirsty poet; he admires the gold-bound ivory
haft of the sword that his brother has brought home with him; he sees St Elmo’s
fire glow from the rigging. And even where he speaks to us in allegory, in the
images of a ship in peril, everything is endowed with that immediacy which
has led some to deny the allegorical sense altogether. We have already mentioned
the passage in Hesiod from which the individual elements of the summer poem
were borrowed. But here again it is impressive to see how the epic description
is reflected in the short and crowding sentences of Alcaeus. Dionysius was right
when he gave brevity, sweetness and force as the characteristic of Alcaeus’ poetry.
Sappho came from the same aristocratic circles as Alcaeus, little as their
worlds had in common. Her life also was affected by the struggles for power
in Mytilene, and for a time she was in exile. This passage of her life affords us
the most reliable indication that we have for the determining of her date. The
statements of the Marmor Parium (36) enable us to put her flight to Sicily
between 604-3 and 596-5. Various indications derived from the chronicle of
Eusebius put her floruit in 600-599 or 595-4. She seems then to have been a
slightly older contemporary of Alcaeus’.
Sappho was widely read throughout antiquity, and in consequence we find
many biographical details about her, mostly derived from her own writings.
What has survived still gives us a certain amount of biography. Where we no
longer have a reflection in her poems, the reports are of limited interest and
worth relating only in outline: her father Scamandronymus, her mother Cleis,
and her place of birth Lesbos (the latter disputed). We may perhaps suppose that
Sappho was born in Eresos but spent most of her life in Mytilene. Her name
appears in the remains of the ancient texts and on coins in the undissimilated
form Psappho.' We are told that in her poems she referred with pride to her
brother Larichus who on festal occasions poured the wine in the council
chamber. Sappho’s brothers were not always a source of pride to her: there is a
story told by Herodotus,* and supported by some valuable verses of Sappho
herself, that her brother Charaxus engaged in trade and sailed with a cargo of
Lesbian wine for Naucratis, the Greek trading city in the Nile delta. Such a
venture was common at the time: it need not be connected with the wave of
™ In the poems: 1, 20. 65, 5. 94, 5. 133, 2 LP. G. zUNTz, ‘On the Etymology of the Name
Sappho’. Mus. Helv. 8, 1951, 12.
2. 135, where the hetaera, however, is called Rhodopis.
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banishments in Lesbos. Beginning in the late seventh century, Naucratis had

rapidly reached great prosperity, and was consequently noted for its accom-
plished hetaerae. One of these, Doricha, soon had Charaxus in her toils. He
bought her freedom and was bled white by her. We possess a poem restorable
in its main outlines (5 LP) in which Sappho hails the return of her brother. She
invokes Cypris (who as Aphrodite Galenaea makes the sea calm) and the
Nereids to bring her brother safely home. He must abandon his former errors
and return to a position of honour: ie., in the aristocratic ethic, he must be a
delight to his friends and a bane to his enemies. His sister he must hold in honour
and free her from the anxieties which he formerly caused. The warmth of
sisterly love in these verses is as affecting as if the poem had been written today.
We can enjoy it by itself, but we must not forget that it was one of a series of
events, now imperfectly known, leading to a striking peripeteia. A second
poem (15 LP) probably accompanies the brother’s departure on a new voyage:
of this we cannot be sure, but certainly she reviles Doricha and prays that she
may not have a second victory over Charaxus. One of the most remarkable
sources for Sappho’s biography is the letter to Phaon which Ovid composes
for her in the fifteenth of the Epistulae heroidum. It is a strange mixture, with
credible elements amid an accumulation of anecdote. To the first class we may
assign Sappho’s complaint that her brother has added disgrace to misfortune
and that he sails the sea in poverty. He has returned her well-meant advice with
hatred. Herodotus also mentions that Sappho took her brother seriously to task
after his return from Naucratis. Thus the charming propempticon may repre-
sent a ray of hope doomed to disappointment.
Such singular interpretations of Sappho’s character have been put forward
by modern scholars that there has seemed to be no place for a husband in her
life. Thus the rich Andrian Cercolas has been deleted from the story, and with
him the daughter Cleis. Now that the new discoveries have delightfully brought
to life the relations between Sappho and her daughter, we may consider that
chapter closed. First we have some verses which will be important later (132
LP): “Mine is a beautiful child, her face like a golden flower, Cleis my beloved.
I would not exchange her for all Lydia nor for lovely .. .’ A papyrus at Copen-
hagen and one at Milan give us welcome knowledge of a poem! as charming as
it is in many ways noteworthy. Sappho first speaks of advice which she once
gave her daughter concerning a young girl’s toilet: a purple band suits dark hair
very well, but for fair hair a garland is a better adornment. But recently the
fashion has come in from Sardes of wearing gaily coloured bonnets: one of these
(we may suppose) is now the object of Cleis’ wishes. But Sappho cannot think
where she is going to find one. Next comes a passage damaged beyond restora-
tion, but clearly containing references to the Mytileneans, to the Cleanactids
and to exile. Clearly Sappho here must be referring to the troubles in Lesbos
which we know of from the poems of Alcaeus. It is striking that nowhere else
in the extant writings do we find so specific a reference to politics. Sappho’s
1 98 LP; cf. SCHADEWALDT, Studies presented to D. M. Robinson. Saint Louis 1951, 499,
and PAGE (v. inf.), 97.
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reference to the political struggles of her menfolk in connection with a question

of fashionable headwear delightfully illustrates her exclusive and immediate
concern with the feminine. And even this grave bonnet-controversy illustrates
the background of Lydian culture behind the life of the eastern Greeks. |
In Ovid Sappho lets her fame console her for nature’s having denied her bodily
beauty, in particular tall stature and a fair complexion. This lack of beauty
is a consistent feature in the biographical sources, and it may well be true.
In several fragments? we seem to be hearing a complaint of the poetess over
the passing of her youth: but do not know how long she lived and we can do
without the knowledge. Gundolf remarks in his book on Goethe that we tend
to picture the world’s great literary figures at a particular time of life. For
Sappho it is a woman’s ripe maturity, with youth and beauty, its brightness yet
undimmed by the thought of its transience.
The ancients were not content with picking out one biographical detail or
another from the poems of Sappho: her personality seemed to invite wholesale
invention. Her death was romantically embellished. Our oldest indication is
found in Menander’s Leucadia (Strab. 10. 452), where he alludes to the story in
a way that suggests it was already a traditional tale. We ought not be surprised
to find Middle Comedy already making free with her character. Menander
relates (unusually for him in anapaests) that Sappho set her cap at the haughty
Phaon, and then set the example of jumping from ‘the precipitous cliffs’ into
the sea. He is referring to the promontory of Leucas, on which there was a
temple of Apollo Leucatas. This fable, which Ovid translated into bourgeois
terms, and which supplied the theme for Grillparzer’s drama, is extremely
interesting if we trace the history of its elements. It is apparent that this Phaon
was originally a creature of mythology. Ancient tradition (211 LP) knows of
him as a sturdy ferryman plying his trade between Lesbos and the mainland,
who won the especial favour of Aphrodite. The mask of historicity is laid
aside when we read that Aphrodite loved him and hid him among some
lettuces (Aelian V.H. 12. 18). What we have here is a vegetation-spirit, one of
those associated with Aphrodite, very much akin to Adonis. We are expressly
told that Sappho often sang of this Phaon; and it is easy to see how this would
have given rise to the fable of her love for the handsome youth. Comedy
would very likely have taken the lead in putting such an interpretation on the
poems. The leap from Cape Leucas is harder to understand. Such a notion occurs
elsewhere: the most helpful passage is a distich of Anacreon’s (17 D.), where the
poet in a frenzy of love wishes to leap from the Leucadian rocks into the white-
foaming sea. The cape was originally a legendary locality associated with notions
of death (Od. 24. 11), and a leap from it was synonymous with a sinking into
nothingness and oblivion. Was this element in the story suggested by Sappho’s
having used some such expression in her own poems? It is quite possible.3
’ PAGE (v. inf.), 133. 0. 2 Thus 58 LP, cf. scHADEWALDT (v. inf.), 157.
* J. CARCOPINO, De Pythagore aux apédtres. Paris 1956, supposes without good grounds
that Sappho’s leap from the Leucadian cliff was a Pythagorean invention from fourth-
century Tarentum.
140
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

Thanks to the numerous discoveries in papyri, we are well enough acquainted

with Sappho’s work to know that one group of poems had a special place in it:
the Epithalamia, a genre much favoured in antiquity, as Catullus’ elegant imita-
tion shows. If in no other way, these songs have a place of their own as having
been composed by Sappho, a supreme artist of the individual song to the lyre,
for performance by a chorus.
The Alexandrians classified the poems of Sappho, unlike those of Alcaeus, not
by subject matter, but by metre. Understandably the first book contained those
writtenin Sapphicstrophes. Itis, however, onlyaconjecture that the last book con-
tained the marriage songs. Some support for this view is given by a new papyrus
(103 LP) with the remains of a sort of catalogue raisonné of Sappho’s works.
Rewarding as the finds of papyri have been, we still possess only small frag-
ments of Sappho’s lyrical achievement. It is very regrettable that the Epi-
thalamia should have been perhaps the worst sufferers, considering the impres-
sion we are able to form of them. They strikingly illustrate how a popular and
traditional song for particular occasions, in all its natural freshness and bloom,
can be transformed through the medium of great art into the perfection of
literary form without losing the charm of spontaneity. Songs of this kind
accompanied the bride on the way to her new home or were sung outside the
chamber of the newly married couple.! They celebrated the good luck of the
bridegroom and the beauty of the bride; and Sappho, never as sparing of
imagery as Alcaeus, here embodies some of her most striking beauties: “Like a
rosy apple on a high branch is the maiden; the pickers have forgotten her — no,
not forgotten: they have simply not been able to reach her’ (105 a LP). This may
be taken as praise of unsullied virginity; but in view of the comic element in this
kind of poetry, we might suppose it to refer to a bride no longer in the first
bloom of youth. There is another image in 1osc LP: the hyacinth on the
mountain side sinks to the ground, trodden under the careless foot of the
shepherd. This may refer to the roughness of a lover who does not properly
value what he takes: but Frinkel’s view deserves consideration, that the purity
of the bride is accentuated by the contrasting image of one who has given
herself unreflectingly. Two verses of a dialogue (114 LP) are as tender in their
feeling as anything in Greek poetry, the girl complains: ‘Maidenhood, maiden-
hood, whither goest thou from me?’ Maidenhood replies: “Nevermore come
I to thee, nevermore’. One can compare this only with the young man’s fare-
well as depicted by Raimund: the comparison needs no apology, for in both
instances true poetry has drawn from the same stream, very near its source.
There are examples too of light-hearted raillery, such as was common on these
occasions. One of the young men kept guard before the door, otherwise the
maidens might easily rescue their companion who is being taken from their
number. They are ill-disposed towards the janitor, and they sneer at him
(110 LP): ‘he has feet seven fathom long: it takes five ox-hides to make his
sandals, and ten shoemakers have to sew them.’
t On the character of the songs: x. MUTH, ‘Hymenaios und Epithalamion’. Wien. Stud.
67, 1954, 5.
F 14!
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

declared
There is no parallel in Sappho to a poem (44 LP) which has been
spurious, although with little ground. The ‘Trojan herald Idaeus appears,
Troy to
announcing the arrival of the ship which is bringing Andromache to
taken in
marry Hector. The female heart again betrays itself in the delight
enumerating costly furnishings and ornaments. Now everyone goes to meet
with
Andromache, and after a lacuna we hear of the entry of the young couple
been
music and acclamation. What is the purpose of this poem? Its end has
something
preserved, and there is no question of its turning from the narrative to
else. Nevertheless it has repeatedly been explained as a marriage-song, in which
the narrative element has been allowed to overshadow the principal purpose.
But it would hardly have been a good omen at a marriage feast to sing of the
wedding of the man whose corpse was mutilated by Achilles and the woman
who became Pyrrhus’ slave. It is very hard to decide; but since among the
fragments of Alcaecus we have found passages showing little more than a pleasure
in epic scenes for their own sake, we may leave such a possibility open for
Sappho also.
Several of the marriage songs are dactylic, and we notice that in such poems
Sappho makes wider use than elsewhere of epic elements of language.’ The
phenomenon is easily explicable: we noticed it in Archilochus also. The account
of Andromache’s wedding is in Aeolic dactyls, and its metrical affinity to epic
explains why it is so rich in Homeric features, particularly in the use of com-
pound adjectives as epitheta ornantia. On the other hand, the syntax, with its
simple sequence of short sentences, is Sappho’s own.
The choral epithalamia were only a small part of Sappho’s output. Her
favourite form was the individual song to the lyre, and her personal experience
was the stuff of her poetry. Before we enter upon this inner region of her art,
we should mention a rather difficult passage. Aristotle in the Rhetoric (1367 a.
137 LP) quotes parts of a dialogue in Alcaic metre, the speakers being Alcaeus
and Sappho. The man says: ‘I would fain say something to you, but modesty
prevents me.’ The woman replies: ‘If you had any love for what is good or
beautiful, if your tongue were not brewing hateful words, shame would not lie
upon your eyes, but you would speak of what is virtuous.’ Now among the
fragments of Alcaeus there is one (384 LP), a twelve-syllable line, addressing the
‘violet-tressed, stately, purely-smiling Sappho’. If one adopts Bergk’s emenda-
tion of the line in Aristotle, making it a dodecasyllable, 384 LP goes neatly
before it. There is one formal point that deserves note:? the name is spelt Nawdor
instead of the Vamou which one would expect. Now itis after all Aristotle who
assigns the dialogue to Alcaeus and Sappho, and Page has rightly observed that
there is no real reason to reject such an idea. There is a red-figure pot of the fifth
century? depicting Sappho and Alcaeus in animated interchange: the painter
seems to have known our lines and to have taken them as Aristotle did. But
doubt on this point is not confined to modern scholarly scepticism. The scholia
Ms Details of this sort are pointed out with great industry by p1eHt
in all the authors in
his Anth. Lyr. On Sappho 44 see PAGE (v. inf.), 66.
2 PAGE (v. inf.), 108. I. 3 Purtw.-Reichh. T. 64.
142
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
to Aristotle seem to reflect a debate whether this was not a purely poetical
representation of the ‘rejected suitor’ theme: but we do not know who held the
rival views.
It would be rash to manufacture a piece of biography out of the fragment
121 LP, in which an over-young suitor is rejected. The passage is noteworthy
for the sharp distinction it draws between the friendship of a man and woman
and their physical relation as lovers. But it may refer to anyone: lyric poetry
put into the mouth of another person is found elsewhere in Sappho. For
example, the maiden’s lament to her mother (102 LP), a piece with a strong
atmosphere of folksong, can hardly be written in Sappho’s own person, com-
plaining as it does that she cannot mind her spinning for thinking of her absent
lover. These are poems akin to that one (94 D.) in which a maiden laments in
the night the loneliness of her couch. They reflect a literary genre, not Sappho’s
personal experience.
In the surviving pieces Sappho mostly sings of her own world, and the voice
that we hear is that of a loving heart. Maidens of her circle - we know the
names of many of them — awake in her the longing of a heart that is always
seeking: they delight and disappoint her, bring her sorrow and happiness. This
is the realm of feeling from which those two poems come (1. 31 LP) on which
alone Sappho’s reputation was based before the papyrus discoveries. The
Prayer to Aphrodite calls on the goddess as a helper in the pain of unfulfilled
longing: the prayer for her appearance and help is emphasized at the beginning
and end of the poem, which is preserved in full. Now in ancient poems of invo-
cation it is normal to remind the god of some earlier occasion on which he
granted favour or help. In the true manner of Greek art Sappho has taken over
a traditional element and made it all her own. Within the framework of the
initial and final invocation she has enclosed a picture of the goddess’ earlier epi-
phanies. On a golden car Aphrodite sailed down to the dark earth, drawn by
sparrows with energetic flapping of wings, and granted Sappho’s desire.
Laughingly, as one would speak to a rather troublesome child, the goddess
asked what had gone wrong this time that she was calling on Aphrodite; what
was it that she so earnestly desired? As the goddess then made a promise, so let
her now fulfil it! The magic of Sappho’s poetry is hard to capture in words,
but an especial charm of this prayer to Aphrodite arises from a remarkable
contrast. The poem is full of warm and insistent passion, and yet is cast by
Sappho in a form which makes her take part and look on at the same time. The
construction of the poem, with a frame set in the present enclosing a central
core recalling the past, is the outward expression of an antinomy which is a
distinctive characteristic of Sappho’s poetry.
In essence it is found again in that poem which the writer of the treatise On
Elevated Language quotes as a perfect example of the depiction of feeling, and
which Catullus chose for imitation. Sappho thinks that man as happy as the
gods, who sits quietly opposite the maiden and hears her talking and laughing.
But Sappho’s heart is quite undone by a glance at the beloved’s face: her tongue
will not move, a subtle fire burns under her skin, her eyes see no longer, her
143
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the death which

ears ring, she breaks into a sweat, she trembles, she is as pale as
all must be
seems so near. The text breaks off with the mysterious words: ‘Yet
endured, since...’
This description of the symptoms of love has had the most persistent influence
writer of erotic
over more than a thousand years. Aristaenetus even, the late
pastiche, shows many traces of dependence on Sappho when he describes the
passions of a girl in love. The ancient conception of love as an irrational power,
falling like a sickness upon men, found a complete expression in the verses of
Sappho.
Do these lines come from a marriage song, as many believe? Certainly
not in the sense that she made her plight the theme of a song performed at
a feast, in order to glorify the bride’s beauty. In these verses a human being is
alleviating an intolerable situation by giving it objective existence in art.
The situation envisaged may indeed be a wedding-feast, since these are the
circumstances most readily imaginable for such an intimate relation of man and
woman.
Hardly anywhere else do we find Sappho in such a white heat. She speaks of
the fire of longing (48 LP), and of Eros who shakes her inwardly like the
mountain-wind shaking the oak-trees (47 LP). In another passage (130 LP) she
describes the god, with unforgettable verbal imagery, as the bitter-sweet
monster against whom there is no help. Her wish (95 LP) to go down to the
dewy lotus-covered banks of Acheron probably comes from a context like that
of the poem we have just considered. But Sappho’s lyre has many tones. She
makes fun of her own longings in a poem (16 LP) that begins by considering
the diversity of human judgments. To serve in the cavalry, the infantry, or in
the fleet, seems to one or another the finest thing on earth: but to Sappho the
finest thing is that which she loves. So she would sooner behold the graceful
walk of Anactoria and the light of her countenance than all the chariots and
arms of the Lydians: that is a land to which many of her maidens have been
taken as wives. The same theme recurs in another poem, again one of her most
charming (96 LP). She converses with Atthis about a friend, a girl now living
far away in Sardes. Now she outshines the women of Lydia as the moon out-
shines the stars. The simile is followed by a passage that has exercised an incom-
parable influence on later poetry: a moonlit night is described, with the light
falling on sea and plain, on the shimmering dew and the luxuriant flowers. The
whole proportioning of the stanzas makes it clear that this is not an elaborate
descriptive simile, such as we find in Homer. The moonlit night depicted here
is the night on which Sappho and Atthis send their tender thoughts far across
the sea.
If we are not content with a purely aesthetic enjoyment of these poems, then
at every step the question becomes more burning: What kind of love is it that
they express? For centuries the answer has fluctuated between extremes,
repre-

ee oe eee
owitz that she was the principal
* Her name may have been Arignota, but this is disputed, cf. PAGE (v. inf.),
89.
144
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
of a pensionnat de jeunes filles.! In antiquity also interpretations differed widely.
Maximus of Tyre compares her with Socrates, while in Seneca we find the
question put an Sappho publica fuerit.2 It is quite understandable that some
ancient grammarians fancied there were two Sappho’s, and made one of them
the scapegoat: the view is exemplified in Suidas.
A complete picture of the Lesbian society is not now possible. It seems
reasonable, however, that the absorption of the male nobility in fighting and
drinking led the women to wish for some form of association which would
prevent the extinction of intellectual life. Sappho’s poems attest such an associa-
tion, and despite the fragmentary transmission they give us valuable details of
it. Scholars are careful nowadays not to imagine Sappho’s group as a kind of
educational institution. But at all events the facts show her as the centre of a
closely-knit group of young girls. Suidas speaks of them as pupils of Sappho’s,
and gives some names. We must not attach too much importance to late
reports, but there was a circle of young people around Sappho; and we may
add the important fact that it was by no means unique in contemporary
Mytilene. We know of Andromeda and Gorgo, whom Sappho felt to be her
rivals: she often shows bitter animosity towards them. Andromeda lured
Atthis away from her (131 LP) — Atthis, whose unpretentious maiden grace
had won Sappho’s heart, and who recurs elsewhere in the poems. Andromeda
is also the object of the attack (57 LP) on the peasant woman who does not know
how to arrange her robe about her ankle. Propriety of appearance was valued
highly in that circle, and the point is well illustrated by the archaic figures of
girls on the Acropolis.
We can form a picture of the life of Sappho’s circle which is clear enough to
put out of court several modern interpretations. There is a poem with many
touches of tenderness (94 LP), whose surviving portion begins with Sappho’s
wish to die, so deeply is she hurt by the loss of the friend who must leave her.
Her consolation is in remembering the hour of parting, when she herself was
strong and self-controlled, while the sobbing girl remembered all the joys they
had shared. The poem speaks of fragrant garlands and perfumes, of precious
peace, and in the mutilated latter part we hear of a sacred place or festival which
she never failed to attend. Almost the last readable word is ‘grove’. We may
connect this with another poem (2 LP, Pap. Soc. It. nr. 1300) preserved on an
ostrakon.3 Aphrodite is invoked in her sacred grove: again the repeated invoca-
tion frames an inner portion, here a description of the grove, and a description
only comparable with that of the night in the poem to the distant friend. The

t On the history of attitudes to Sappho: H. RUDIGER, Sappho. Ihr Ruf und Ruhm bei der
Nachwelt. Erbe der Alten. 21. 1933. Id., ‘Das sappische Versmass in der deutschen Literatur’.
Ztschr.f.Deutsche Philol. 58, 1933, 140. R. MERKELBACH, ‘Sappho und ihr Kreis’. Phil. ro1,
1957, 1. See also the work by several hands, El descubrimiento del amor in Grecia. Madrid 1959.
2 Max. Tyr. Diss. 18. 9. Seneca, ep. 88. 37. ;
3 Bibliography on this poem in K. MATTHIESSEN, Gymn. 64, 1957, 554; Cf. G. LANATA,
‘L’ ostracon fiorentino con versi di Saffo’. Stud. It. 32, 1960, 64. E. RISCH, ‘Der gottliche
Schlaf bei Sappho’. Mus. Helv. 19, 1962, 197, on the corrupt and difficult kardypiov in
v. 8.
145
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

altars smoke with incense, cool streams murmur among the apple branches, the
ground is carpeted with roses and sleep drops from the trembling leaves.
We must not jump to conclusions and make Sappho a kind of priestess or
her circle a cult-association. The fragments do indeed show that it was con-
cerned with worship and that the festivals on holy days were the high points of
its life. All we know of Greek life suggests that the girls themselves sang and
danced on such occasions. Singing was common at other times also in the
Sapphic circle: we may suppose that the girls learned from her, without making
her into a schoolmistress. Sappho herself indicates what view she took of their
function in life: when her daughter is mortally ill she forbids loud wailing: no
such sound must be heard in a house dedicated to the service of the Muses
(150 LP). The purpose and the pride of her life is to be an attendant on the
Muses (ovgordAos), since the powers of song which the Muses gave her will
endure. Her name will be on the lips of men and even death will not extinguish
it (65. 193 LP). When she wants to speak evil of an enemy, she promises her a
miscrable shadowy existence in Hades — the lot of men and women who have
no share in the roses of Pieria (55 LP). It is probably more than an accident of
transmission that the comforting belief of the aristocracy in survival by reputa-
tion comes out more strongly in Sappho than in Alcaeus, who lived for the here
and now. The value also that she attributes to being remembered is far greater.
Towards one or another in this fluctuating group of female companions
Sappho always cherished a particular affection. She sings of the passions of her
heart in a way which precludes the interpretation of her feelings as purely
maternal. Her love is a desire for spiritual domination and possession, capable
of the tenderest longing and again of the most complete, almost annihilating
torment. There is nothing to suggest that it had any base origin. There is no
distinction here between the beauty of outward appearance and the inner beauty
of the soul. Of this there could be no clearer proof than the manner in which
Sappho speaks of her daughter Cleis in the passage which we discussed earlier.
A whole world separates Sappho from Plato, and yet the first stage on the
philosopher’s road to the last and highest recognition of virtue which he
embodies in the Symposium is provided by the appearance of beauty in the
sensible world and by the longing that it excites. Sappho had formerly written
some striking verses embodying a line of thought which leads beyond her
world and her age (50 LP): ‘one who is beautiful has the beauty which is access-
ible to sight; but he who is good must also be beautiful’. In kadds and dyabds she
is using the two words which later were combined in the ideal of kadoxayabla.
For anyone to whom the foregoing interpretation of Sappho’s love for her
friends seems inconceivable there is a more convincing argument available. In
a papyrus (nr. 1612 P.) we have the remains of an ancient biography in which
we read that ‘some writers’ accused Sappho of immorality. In that case neither
her poems nor reliable tradition could have offered any support for the gossip
which later ages repeated from the bawdy inventions of comedy.
Sappho’s art displays the same immediacy as that of Alcaeus: but while in the
one we are shown the armoury and the banqueting-hall, in Sappho we are taken
146
 THR ARCHAIC PERIOD
into a very different world. Here feeling is everything, and we perceive its
fluctuations, its power and intensity as immediately as if the artistic and technical
means, through which of course they have to be conveyed, were not there. We
have seen that Sappho had a great faculty of self-observation. Often her attitude
in some past situation is the theme of her poetry. But even then the living warmth
of the expression makes no concession to the coolness of reflection. Her language
is simple: every verse is direct and unaffected. Homeric elements are seldom
used except in the dactylic verses, almost never as pure ornaments of style. The
domination of her poetry by feeling has its formal counterpart in the musical
qualities of the language, shown especially in the use of vowel-sounds. The same
quality has determined the structure of her sentences, which are always simple.
Everything has the spontaneity of nature itself.
The world around her is depicted by Sappho with the same immediacy as
her own feelings: the grove of Aphrodite, the moonlit night, the flowers, the
sea. In Alcaeus the outlines are sharp and defined: here over all there is a gentle
shimmering light like that of the moon. We go out of the armoury into the
twilight gardens of Aphrodite. Ancient literary criticism again showed its
grasp of essentials when Demetrius (de eloc. 132), speaking of the charm of
description, gives Sappho’s work in general as an example of it.
Much of Sappho’s work survived the end of antiquity, as the remains of her
fifth book in the Berlin papyri show. According to Themistius she was read in
school in the fourth century. Himerius was well acquainted with Alcaeus: cf.
R. Stark, Annal. Saravienses 8, 1959, 43.

Text: for Sappho and Alcaeus: E. LoBEL and D. PAGE, Poetarum Lesbiorum
fragmenta. Oxf. 1955, with the new papyri and a verbal index; to these add
Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, nr. 2358 (Alcaeus) and 2357 (Sappho): on 2378 see p. 159 n.
1. Diehl’s Anthologia Lyrica is still valuable for its references. J. M.EDMONDS,
Lyra Graeca t. Loeb Lib. Lond. 1922. TH. REINACH and A. PUECH, Alcée. Sappho.
Coll. des Un. de Fr. Paris 1937, repr. 1960. C. GALLAVOTTI, Saffo e Alceo 2 vols.
Naples 1947-48. M. TREU, Alkaios. Munich 1952. Id., Sappho. 2nd ed. Munich
1958 (both with trans., comm. and bibliog.). B. starGER, Sappho. Griech. u.
deutsch. Ziirich 1957. Interpretation: A. TURYN, Studia Sapphica. Eos Suppl. 6,
1929. C. M. BOWRA, Greek Lyric Poetry. Oxf. 1936, 141. 186 (and ed. 196r).
W. SCHADEWALDT, Sappho. Berl. 1950. D. L. PAGE, Sappho and Alcaeus. Oxf.
1955. On early lyric in general: m. TrREU, Von Homer zur Lyrik. Zet. 12, Munich
1955. Literary history: c. GALLAVOTTI, Storia e poesia di Lesbo nel VI-VI
secolo a.C., Alceo di Mitilene. Bari 1949. A. COLONNA, L’ antica lirica greca, Turin
1955. B. MARZULLO, Studi di poesia eolica. Florence 1958. M. F. GALIANO, Safo.
Madrid 1958: see also his ‘La Ifrica griega a la luz de los descubrimientos
papirolégicos’. Actas del Prim. Congr. Esp. de Est. Clas. Madrid 1958, 59. Lan-
guage: C. GALLAVoTTI, La lingua dei poeti eolici. Bari 1948. A. BRAUN, Il contri-
buto della glottologia al testo critico de Alceo e Saffo’. Annali Triestini 20, 1950,
147
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

in Wege und
263. H. FRANKEL, ‘Eine Stileigenheit der frithgriech. Literatur’,
Gott. Nach. 1924,
Formen friihgriechischen Denkens, and ed. Munich 1960, 40 (=
Homeric
63). C. A. MASTRELLI, La lingua di Alceo. Florence 1954. A. E. HARVEY,
HAMM,
epithets in the Greek lyric’. Class. Quart. 7, 1957, 206. EVA-MARIA
und Alkaios. Abh. Ak. Berl. 2nd ed. 1958. IRENA KAZIK-
Grammatik zu Sappho
zAwavzKa, De Sapphicae Alcaicaeque elocutionis colore epico. Wroclaw (Bres-
lau) 1958 (Polska Ak. Nauk. Archivum Filol. 4.) Translations: H. RUDIGER, Ges-
chichte der deutschen Sappho-Uebersetzungen ’. Germ. Stud. 151. Berl. 1934.
E. MORWITZ, Sappho. Berl. 1936 (Greek and German). Individual passages trans-
lated in scHADEWALDT (vid. sup.), FRANKEL and in SNELL’s Entdeckung des
Geistes. 3rd ed., Hamb. 1955 (ZOLTAN V. FRANYO).

6) CHORAL LYRIC
Numerous archaeological discoveries in the Eurotas valley, particularly those
from the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia,! have greatly increased our knowledge
of Sparta in the seventh century. We receive the impression of a community
readier to live life to the full and to accept foreign influences than the later mili-
taristic state, which hardened into the form of a beleaguered garrison. The find-
ings are in accordance with what we know of the music and poetry of that time.
One of the most valuable sources for the history of music is the treatise On
Music going under the name ofPlutarch. It speaks of two ‘schools’ (katagrdcets)
in the Sparta of the seventh century. The first was founded by Terpander of
Lesbos, who was said to have won the prize in music at the first celebration of
the Carnean festival in the 26th Olympiad (676-3). The rise of the second school
was associated with the development of another festival of Apollo, the Gymno-
paediae, instituted in 665. The names and origins of the various artists show how
open to foreign influence Sparta was at the time. We find Thaletas of Gortyn
named beside Xenocritus from the south Italian state of Locri, Xenodamus of
Cythera beside Sacadas of Argos and Polymnestus of Colophon, the latter
mentioned by Alcman and Pindar (de mus. 5). What these men achieved has
been lost to us; in particular we cannot tell what of their work was individual
lyric and what was choral. But it cannot be doubted that choral lyric was
extensively composed at the time, and that Alcman, the first writer of it known
to us, had already a considerable tradition behind him. It is also obvious that
from the beginning the choral lyric was closely connected with worship. The
same is true of tragedy, which developed out of the choral lyric. In all periods
the latter is referred to as jeoAzi}, i.e. it was associated with dancing. If the loss of
the music is a sad blow to our understanding of ancient lyric, we must especially
remember in discussing choral lyric that we possess now only a part of what was
once an artistic unity of sound and movement. The rapid development of the
choral lyric in the Doric areas, which stamped the genre for all time with Doric
features of language, was intimately connected with the development of the
music that accompanied it. In addition to the stringed instruments, the flute
determinedly claimed a place.
" R. M. DAWKINS, The Sanctuary of Artemis Orthia in Sparta. Lond. 1929.
148
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

Alcman also came to Sparta from abroad. Later indeed Sparta claimed his
birth: the story probably goes back to the Laconian Sosibius, who wrote a
considerable treatise on the poet under the second Ptolemy. But to us some
verses from his Songs ofMaidens (13 D.) are decisive. In the elaborate cataloguing
manner that he loves, Aleman enumerates various places that a certain man does
not come from, leading up to a proud assertion that he comes in fact from
Sardis. It is an easy assumption that the poet himself is here spoken of. Was he
then a Lydian? If we remember what the African Terence became in Rome, we
shall not exclude the possibility. But more probably he was a Greek — most
likely an Ionian, in view of the regular intercourse between the Lydian hinter-
land and the Greek coastal settlements.! Ancient datings of Alcman vary, but
they all put him in the seventh century. His mention of Polymnestus seems to
put him into its second half.
The Alexandrians took a lively interest in the poet of early Spartan choral
lyric, and they published his poems in five books. But he was not congenial to
the taste of the Atticists, and so his work perished. Fortunately however, apart
from the fairly numerous quotations in other writers, one of the earliest papyrus
discoveries gave us about 100 verses from the Songs of Maidens — sufficient to
show their picturesque charm; sufficient also to raise a whole series of difficult
problems. Mariette found the papyrus in 1885 in an Egyptian grave: the date of
writing is not precisely known, but is decidedly pre-Christian.
What remains of this Partheneion shows the presence of three elements which
remain important in the subsequent history of choral lyric: firstly myth, which
we find in the damaged beginning of the poem. It was concerned with the sons
of Hippocoon who were slain by Heracles. The long and highly wrought
catalogue of names shows us that this early choral narrative followed different
lines from the epic: a fact which we shall see better in Pindar and Bacchy-
lides.
The narrative is followed by the general truth — the gnome. The poet speaks
of Aisa, our personal destiny, and of Poros, the satisfactory way out, as ancient
deities deserving of worship. Then comes the warning against hybris: man must
not wish to fly up to heaven, nor to have Aphrodite to wife. The sons of Hippo-
coon found out whither their ambition had led them. Alcman now goes on to
speak of the vengeance of the gods. “Happy the man who ends his days without
tears: but for me, I sing of the light of Agido —’. Here in the middle of the verse,
with an abruptness that cannot be disguised he passes over to an entirely different
section, which continues until the end of the poem. In it the personal element
predominates: it is made up of remarks addressed directly to the girl singers and
to the onlookers. Special praise is given to an Hagesichora and to the Agido
previously mentioned. They are virtually rivals, and have a special function in
the chorus. In these loosely constructed verses, in which we seem almost to hear
the happy chatter of the young girls, we could easily forget that the occasion is
t Ox. Pap. 24, 1957 (appeared 1958), nr. 2389, fr. 9 contains the remains of acommentary
on Alcman: it appears that Aristotle thought he was a Lydian, and that the commentator
disputes this view.
F2 149
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

one of worship. The papyrus contains scholia — a token of Alexandrian literary

that
labour — and one of these refers to the festival of Artemis Orthia: it is to her
with
the maidens bring a robe on the feast-day, in her honour that they compete
other choruses. There are many reasons for believing that in the Pleiads, coming
as Sirius rises through the ambrosial night (v. 60), we are to identify one of these
rival choruses. The verses of this hymn have repeatedly been assigned to two
alternating hemichoruses. The content suggests as much, and a scholium on v.
48 seems to require it; but so far all the attempts have cut the poem up in an
intolerable manner. Despite the resemblance of some parts to dialogue, we have
to assign them to only one chorus. The external form is very simple, with
recurring strophes of 14 lines in a mainly trochaic and dactylic rhythm.'
The numerous unsolved questions do not stop us from enjoying this piece of
beautiful poetry. It has all the freshness of youth, and its language has a bloom
and an unselfconsciousness in its reflection of Homeric elements that is wholly
unconventional. Like a noble steed among grazing herds stands the beautiful
chorus-leader among the other maidens, and she is likened to a race-horse with
thundering hooves, accustomed to victory, one of those from the realm of
dreams, living among the rocks.
A new volume of Oxyrhynchus Papyri? has a most valuable item — two leaves
giving the remains of another song for a chorus of girls. Here again the words
used by the singers, the light-hearted chaffing of one group by another, the
happy colouring of the language and the freshness of expression are quite
delightful, and we can better appreciate the stylistic treatment. Like the Par-
theneion found by Mariette, it has a monostrophic structure based on a nine-
verse system.
Among the surviving fragments of the Alexandrian five books there are
many indications that Alcman often made the chorus sing about himself. We
have already heard that he was born in Sardes: in other places (49. so f. 55 f. D.)
he talks of the gluttony of the Dorians, which Heracles raised to an heroic level.
The ageing poet speaks rather touchingly to the maidens of the chorus: his legs
will not carry him, and he would fain be a kingfisher, which is borne over the
waves by its mate when it grows old. Here as elsewhere there is something of a
fairy-tale flavour in his poetry: he knows all the ways of birds, and knows how
to imitate the partridge in song (92 f. D.).
Much discussion has been caused by the verses (58 D.) quoted in the Homeric
lexicon of Apollonius Sophistes. The fragment in fact, which describes the still-
ness of night, is one of the most evocative in Greek poetry. The whole slumber-
ing world is conveyed in this broad and tranquil picture: mountain and valley are
lapped in sleep, along with all the creatures of land or sea or air.3 The attribution
* Some have thought to detect signs of a triadic structure within the strophe, but see
D. L. PAGE, Alcman, The Partheneion. Oxf. 1951, 23.
2 Ox. Pap. 24, 1957 (1958), nr. 2387. A. GIANNINI, “Alcmane Pap. Ox. 2387’. Rendiconti
dell’ Istituto Lombardo. Class. di lett. 93, 1959, 183. M. TREU, Gnom. 31, 1959, 558. W. PEEK,
“Das neue Alkman-Partheneion’. Phil. 104, 1960, 163. Ox. Pap. 24, nr. 2388 gives only some
inconsiderable fragments; the ascription of nr. 2394 is uncertain.
3 R. PFEIFFER, ‘Vom Schlaf der Erde und der Tiere’. Herm. Si. LOSOe te
150
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
of these beautiful lines to Alcman has been disputed. We should not take
too seriously the objection that such a feeling for nature is unthinkable before
the Hellenistic age: that doubt may be removed by remembering the way in
which Sappho makes her description of the night correspond to her own
feeling (96 LP). But the language certainly is peculiar. Elsewhere Alcman uses
the Laconian dialect of his day, slightly modified by epic influence. Ancient
grammarians such as Apollonius Dyscolus certainly exaggerated the role of
Acolisms in his language: these are partly of epic origin, partly they may have
been taken over into current Laconian.! But this fragment shows more of epic
and less of Laconian colouring than any other piece. This may be attributable
to the transmission: also of course we do not know how wide Alcman’s
range may have been. However, the lines are certainly not ‘nature poetry’ in
the style of modern descriptive lyrics: such passages as Theocritus 2. 38,
Apollonius Rhodius 3. 744, Virgil Aen. 4. 522 suggest that Alcman also
was making a contrast between the peace of nature and the unrest of a human
heart.
The name of Stesichorus is associated with one of the sorest gaps in our
knowledge of archaic poetry. He is the first literary representative of western
Greece, which rapidly achieved economic prosperity in consequence of the
colonizing movement in the eighth century. The name of Xenocritus from
Epizephyrian Locri has been mentioned already: Xanthus also, who wrote an
Oresteia before Stesichorus,3 may have been a west Greek. Stesichorus (who
was originally called Tisias, according to Suidas, and got his later name from
his work as chorus-master) was born in Matauros, a Locrian colony in southern
Italy, but Himera on the north coast of Sicily became his real home. Thucydides
(6. 5) tells us that this city showed a mixture of Doric and Chalcidian elements in
population and language. If there is not much Doric in Stesichorus, this is to be
explained by the nature of conventional lyrical language at his time. The most
varied dates are assigned to him, probably through confusion with later bearers
of the same name. We can feel fairly confident that he belongs to the late
seventh and early sixth centuries. In Cicero’s De Senectute (23) he is mentioned
as one of those who kept their intellectual powers unimpaired into extreme old
age. Suidas speaks of his tomb in Catana, where he is said to have gone as an
exile from Pallantium in Arcadia. After what we hear about the composition
of the Palinodia, we have every right to mistrust biographical data on Stesi-
chorus. But he did take part in politics, and according to Aristotle (Rhet. 2.
20 1393 b), he tried to prevent Phalaris from becoming tyrant of Agrigentum;
so the story of his exile may contain some truth.
Stesichorus writes choral lyric: but what gives a special quality and effect to
his work is the dominance of mythical narrative, which we saw was one of the
components of Alcman’s art. His poetry is thus closely related to the epic: a fact
1 B. sSCHWYZER, Griech. Gramm. 1. 110. PAGE (v. inf.), 155 and p. 159 on fr. 58 D.
2 On the rise of the Greek colonies in the west: G. VALLET, Rhégion et Zancle. Histoire,
commerce et civilisation des cités chalcidiennes du détroit de Messina. Paris 1958.
3 Ath. 12. $13a. Stesich. fr. 57 B. pAGE, Poetae Melici Graeci nr. 229.
ISI
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE
. epici
which Quintilizn expresses with a Roman brevity: ‘Stesichorum . .
utory factor may have
carminis onera lyra sustinentem’ (10. 1, 62). A contrib
by the epic, and
been that literary tradition in west Greece was less dominated
to it. A
thus the lyric poetry which came later had the narrative field more open
parallel may be found in the reform of the dithyramb by Arion, who carried
g
through his innovations at the court of Periander in Corinth about 600, securin
a place for narrative in the dithyramb and thus making possible the wider
development of the form in later times. Arion, according to Herodotus (t. 24),
went also to Italy and Sicily; so that some connection with the work of Stesi-
chorus cannot be ruled out.
The ancients collected the poems of Stesichorus into twenty-six books.
Enough of the titles later bestowed on the various poems have survived to give
us at least an idea of the subjects. Most come from the realm of the cyclic epics:
thus Stesichorus brought out an Iliu Persis and a Nostoi on the homecomings of
the heroes. A papyrus fragment! has now afforded us two scenes from the latter
poem. Both show a close connection with the Odyssey: Helen’s interpretation of
a sign in conversation with Telemachus reminds us of the farewell scene in the
fifteenth book (171), and the description of an objet d’art recalls the splendid
mixing-bowl which Menelaus presents to Telemachus. In the passage of the
Odyssey (115 £.) gold and silver are mentioned together, as they are in the
papyrus. Poems that dealt with these subjects must have been fairly long: we
note that his Oresteia was in two books. Despite the paucity of the remains, we
can still see what a significant intermediary stage such choral lyrics occupied
between epic and tragedy. The dream of Clytemnestra, the role of Orestes’
nurse — both of them important elements in Aeschylus’ tragedy — appear to
have been in Stesichorus’ Oresteia also. The problem of matricide was simply
solved: the Erinyes pursued Orestes, but he was able to keep them off with a
bow given to him by Apollo.? Two poems concerned with a central figure of
the Trojan cycle, a Helena and a Palinodia, became the basis of a legend about
Stesichorus. The first comprised everything unfavourable to Helen in the myth-
cycle. After writing it, Stesichorus went blind. Prompted by Helen herself, he
composed a poem in retractation, and thus regained his sight. It is a very plausible
conjecture of Bowra’s, that these two poems, together with certain features in
the Oresteia, are to be connected with the Spartan cult of Helen. The Theban
cycle gave him the theme for the Eriphyla, the story of the faithless wife who
betrayed her husband and suffered the revenge of her son Alcmeon, and for the
Europeia, dealing with the foundation of the city. Another subject beloved of the
old epics, with their delight in descriptions of contests, was the Funeral Games
of Pelias "A@Aa ert Media); the Boar-hunters (LvoGFpar) told of the Calydonian
™ Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, nr. 2360). W. PEEK, ‘Die Nostoi des Stesichoros’. Phil. 102, 1958,
169.
H. LLOYD-JONES, Class. Rev. N.S. 8, 1958, 17. Cc. M. BOWRA, Greek Lyric Poetry. 2nd
ed.
Oxf. 1961, 77.
* P. ZANCANI-MONTUORO, ‘Riflessi di una Orestia anteriore ad Eschilo’. Rend. della
ace.
di arch. lett. e belle arti. Naples 1952, 270, discusses a metope from the Heraeum
at the mouth
of the Sele (latter sixth cent.) with Orestes pursued by an Erinys in the form
of a serpent
Its connection with Stesichorus is still uncertain.
Ts2
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

hunt. For this poem also we now have a papyrus fragment! — two columns
of writing, of which the first gives a list of the hunters; so that the catalogue
seems to have been a part of Stesichorus’ choral lyric no less than of epic. The
epithets are wholly Homeric. In view of the great part played by the cult of
Heracles in West Greek life, it is not surprising that many poems celebrate the
hero’s deeds. Thus the Geryoneis tells how he carried off Geryon’s cattle, the
Cerberus how he dragged away the guardian of Hades, while the Cycnus was
named after the brigand and son of Ares whom Heracles killed. Little is known
of the Scylla, whose attribution to Stesichorus has been disputed.
Sometimes Stesichorus took his inspiration from the popular legends of his
country, and developed erotic themes out of them. The Calyce (there had
previously been a song for women under the same name: cf. Ath. 14, 619 d) and
Daphnis, named after the handsome lover of a nymph, were both concerned
with unhappy love. There is a poem about Rhadina, a woman betrothed to the
tyrant of Corinth, but killed by him together with her cousin, which has been
attributed to Stesichorus; but this may well have been a younger Stesichorus
from Himera, a dithyrambist of the fourth century (Marm. Par. ep. 73).
The influence of Stesichorus, particularly in subject matter, was extra-
ordinarily strong. We seem to detect it in a number of instances in the visual
arts of the archaic period:* thus the statement of Megacleides in Athenaeus 12.
s12f., that Stesichorus was the first to equip Heracles with club and lion’s skin,
squares well with the evidence of pots from that time. Of course, in so rich a
mythographical tradition we must not try to simplify things too much. In some
particulars his influence on later poetry, especially tragedy, can be fully demon-
strated: but in the main we can only guess. Stesichorus is the great representative
of that stage of choral lyric which has a place between epic and tragedy in the
transmission of Greek myth and which was of enormous importance in its
development.
We know virtually nothing of the form of his poetry. Quintilian (10. 62)
praises him for the moral worth (dignitas) with which he invests his characters
in word and action. In this he seems to have followed the epic manner; the
prolixity ascribed to him was no doubt part of the general elaborate character
of choral lyric. If Suidas is to be trusted, he replaced the single strophes of Alc-
man by the triple division of the epodic structure.3 His indebtedness to Homer,
now proved by recently published papyri, was noted by ‘“Longinus’ (13. 3).

Anth. Lyr., 2nd ed., fasc. 5, 6. 44. J. M. EDMONDS, Lyra Graeca. 1. (Alcman)
2. (Stesichorus). Loeb Class. Lib. Lond. 1922-27. c. M. BowRA, Greek Lyric

1 Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, nr. 2359, fr. 1. B. SNELL, Herm. 85, 1957, 249. C. M. BOWRA, Op. Git,
96. C. GALLAVOTTI, Gnom. 29, 1957, 420, assigns nr. 2359 f. to Stesichorus, the first to the
Nostoi, the second to the Suotherae.
2 BOWRA (v. sup.), 123.
3 Cf. w. THEILER, Mus. Helv. 12, 1955, 181. On Ibycus see below, p. 208.
153
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Poetry. 2nd ed. Oxf. 1961, 16. 74. W. SCHADEWALDT, Sappho, Potsdam 1950,
59. D. L. PAGE, Alcman. The Partheneion. Oxf. 1951. A. GARZYA, Alemane. Naples
1954 (with comm. and trans.) E. RISCH, ‘Die Sprache Alkmans’. Mus. Helv. 11,
1954, 20. Ox. Pap. 24, 1957, nr. 238of. has remains of acommentary on Alcman,
No. 2393 also (fragments of an Alcman-lexicon) shows that Hellenistic Greeks
took a considerable linguistic and antiquarian interest in this poet. On 2387 (bits
of a new Partheneion) sce above. A fragment previously unnoticed is dealt with
by x. ratte, Phil. 97, 1948, 54. J. A. DAVISON, ‘Notes on Aleman’. Proc. of the
1Xth Congr. of Papyrology. Norw. Univ. Pr. 1961, 30. The standard edition now
is D. L. PAGE, Poetae Melici Graeci. Oxf. 1962, with some previously unpublished
fragments of a commentary from Ox. Pap. J. VURTHEIM, Stesichoros. Fragimente
und Biographie. Leyden 1919. F. RAFFAELE, Indagini sul problema stesicoreo.
Gatinae 193'7;

D Folk-tales
Of all departments of Greek life our information is worst about the extensive
repertoire of folk-song and folk-tale of which parts were made immortal as the
themes of great art. We said something about folk-song in connection with
lyric. We can hardly doubt that there must have been very many stories circula-
ting in a prose medium, and we would gladly know how much mythology was
passed on in this form. But it is only where the beast-fable is concerned that we
can reach definite conclusions.
It is interesting to see in what authors we first find it. Homer has no example;
the first is in Hesiod’s tale of the hawk and the nightingale (Erga 202); Archi-
lochus tells of the fox and the ape (81 D.) and of the revenge taken by the fox
on the eagle who broke his word (89 ff. D.); a fragment of apoem of Semonides
(11 D.) comes from the story of the dungbeetle who punished the arrogance of
the eagle.
It is unlikely that these stories were invented by the poets themselves: far
more likely they were taken from an extensive repertoire of folk-tale. So even
at this early period we have to suppose that the beast-fable was popular and
widespread. Almost certainly it must have come to a large extent from the
East.' The importance of the beast-fable in India has long been known: more
recently we have come to recognize its antiquity in the Mesopotamian civiliza-
tions. If an Ionian spirit seems to inform many of the stories, this is because the
Ionians, in their Asiatic settlements were the great intermediaries. The part
played by native Greek invention should not be underrated, although it can
hardly be defined with accuracy.
Another fact emerges from the early poets. Hesiod and Archilochus make it
plain that the whole feeling of these tales (atvoc) is one of social criticism. In a
disguise very easily penetrated it speaks for the weak and declares for justice
BT
A fragment from Assur -}in w. Gc. LAMBERT, .
Babylonian
’ ,
Wisdom Literature. Oxf. 1960,
213, is from the fable of the midge and the elephant, which recurs in Babrius with an ox
instead of the elephant.
154
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

against the arbitrary rule of the great. Later every conceivable purpose was
served by the fable: inculcation of moral lessons, provision of themes for
thetorical exercises; but in its origins it isa way of pointing out what is true and
right in a given situation without giving offence by expressing it openly.
In the old eastern story, the Romance ofAchigar,2 we can sce how tales and
fables of various kinds can attach themselves to the person of some well-known
sage. The same thing appears to have happened in the Greek romance of
Aesop, which we may date in the sixth century. It was already known to
Herodotus (2. 134). It is on this type of traditional tale that the rather unclear
name of ‘Volksbuch’ has been bestowed: we meet it, for example, in the
Contest of Homer and Hesiod and the various lives of Homer. The historical core
of Aesop’s life, if any, has been overlaid entirely by the free flights of fancy
which lead the Phrygian slave through the most various countries and circum-
stances until he meets his death through envy and treachery at Delphi. But
Apollo himself avenges his death and establishes his reputation. :
We may suppose that this life of Aesop was associated from the first with a
large collection of fables — indeed that it was itself the earliest of such collections.
Later separate collections were made. The oldest of which we now know was the
Aoywv Alcwrelwy avvaywyai of Demetrius Phalereus.3 The extant collections
are all considerably later, and so are the forms in which the biographical romance
has come down to us. The situation is the same as with the Contest of Homer and
Hesiod: a tradition beginning in the infancy of Greek literature is now accessible
only in forms dating from very much later.
The oldest known collection of fables has survived only in a fragment - a
John Rylands papyrus (nr. 28 P.) of the first century of our era — Collectio
Augustana, named after a manuscript preserved formerly in Augsburg, now in
Munich (gr. 564). Perry dates it in the first or second century a.p., Adrados
rather later, but it is very hard to date any of these collections accurately. The
Collectio Vindobonensis is more colourful, but the language is more debased: it
comes from a later period, probably the sixth century. Some of its fables are
told in verse. The Collectio Accursiana enjoyed the widest circulation until the
Augustana took its place. Bonus Accursius brought out the first edition in 1479
or 1480. It is sometimes called the Planudea, but it is not certain that Maximus
Planudes had anything to do with compiling it (Phil. Woch. 1937, 774). It arose
from a revision of the Vindobonensis and to some extent from the Augustana.
Hausrath’s theory that the different versions represent rhetorical exercises done
in the schools has not been convincingly demonstrated. In addition to these
collections there are side-transmissions of various sorts. The transmission of the
romance of Aesop was first examined with decisive results by Perry. The manu-
script 397 in the Pierpont Morgan Library in New York, which has been
identified with the Cryptoferratensis A33 that disappeared in Napoleon’s time,
is the oldest of our manuscripts (roth century) and contains the Collectio

1 x, MEULI, ‘Herkunft und Wesen der Fabel’. Schweiz. Arch.f.Volkskunde 50, 1954, 65.
2 Bibliography in Meuli op. cit., 22.
3 p. WEHRLI, Die Schule des Aristoteles 4, fr. 112.
155
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Augustana preceded by the Life in its most elaborate form ne is ae :

ji ows is :
version found in manuscripts of the Collectio Vindobonensis, whic
irst to € a
shortening of G’s narrative and some new material. Perry was the
ss ( ie
ona broad manuscript base: its earlier editors called it the Misincecin
The papyrus fragments (nr. 1614-1617 P. and Rylands 493) point to the or,
in
tion of both versions in the first century of our era. A striking part is played
G by Isis Musagogos; in addition, elements derived from the Hs of
Achigar clearly point to an Egyptian redaction. Thus the prototype of our
versions, which itself testifies to a long period of development, may well come
from Egypt in the early empire.

Editions of the fables: z=. CHAMBRY, Aesopi fabulae, Paris 1925 (repr. 1959) Id.,
Esope. Fables (with trans.), Coll. des Un. de Fr. 1927. Repr. with additions by
H. HAAS 1957 (fables 1-181); I/2 2nd ed. by H. HUNGER, Leipz. 1959 (fables 182-
345 and those found in the rhetoricians). Indices to both parts by H. HAAS,
H. HAUSRATH, Aesopische Fabeln. Munich 1940 (with trans.). A. HAUSRATH.
Corpus fabularum Aesopicarum 1/1, Leipz. 1940. Fables and romance: B. E. PERRY,
Aesopica. Un. ofIllinois Press. 1952. Monographs etc.: B. E. PERRY, Studies in the
Text History of the Life and Fables of Aesop. Haverford 1936. F. R, ADRADOS,
Estudios sobre el léxico de las fabulas esdpicas. Salamanca 1948; id. Gnom. 29, 1957,
431. A. WIECHERS, Aesop in Delphi. Beitr. z. klass. Phil. herausg. von R. Merkel-
bach 2 (Diss. Cologne) 1959.

We have already seen how important myth was in Greek narrative literature.
The beast-fable shows us that there were other elements also. In the Odyssey
itself one of the leading themes — the home-coming and revenge of a man whose
wife is sought by other suitors — belongs to a class of stories telling of striking
turns of fate and owing their origin simply to the pleasure taken in a good story.
Fictional narratives of this kind — ‘novels’ as we may call them — were current
among the Greeks from the earliest times, and we should not underestimate
their numbers simply because so few have found literary expression. The
spontaneity and abundance of such elements in the work of Herodotus should
be proof enough of their importance, which must have been greatest in Ionia.
Like the fairy-story, the novel must largely have had an existence below the
level of great literary creation. Both were originally floating unattached, but
later were tacked on to well-known characters in myth or history.
The period around 600 was an age of strong men. As moralists, legislators,
even as despots they had many achievements to their credit: and they were
remembered also for actions of more dubious moral value. When they became
the target of the Greek passion for compiling lists and cycles, a tradition arose
of the deeds and the sayings of the Seven Sages: a tradition which was most
interestingly developed and rehandled and reinterpreted right down to the end
of antiquity. The number seven is probably due to oriental influence: we find
seven wise men as early as the epic of Gilgamesh (tab. 11), there concerned with
156
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

the building of the walls of Uruk. The Greeks gave an historical and intellectual
content to the age-old myth-motif; and it is very interesting to see how in the
middle ages the legend of the Seven Masters, a creation of oriental fairy-tale,
displaced in turn the classical tradition.
The names of the seven vary alarmingly, but four men firmly maintain their
place in this distinguished circle: the philosopher Thales of Miletus, Bias of
Priene who was renowned for the justice of his verdicts, Pittacus, known to us
through Alcaeus, and the Athenian Solon. In the oldest tradition we find also
Periander of Corinth, but he lost his place when tyrants went out of favour.
Diogenes Laertius (1. 30) says it was Plato who expelled him: certainly he is not
in the list given by Plato in the Protagoras (343a). It is notable that in the fourth
century the Scythian Anacharsis' makes his appearance in the list: he exemplifies
the ideal of the noble savage.
In the older notion of the Seven Sages the contemplative and the active life,
which the Sophists so sharply contrasted, were not thought of separately, and
thus their maxims are directed mainly towards practical, every-day wisdom.
The emphasis laid on the mean is a universal Greek feature, perhaps to some
degree under Delphic influence.
From reflections in later literature it seems safe to infer the early existence of
a Supper of the Seven Sages in a popular form. Their scolia or drinking songs, as
given in the first book of Diogenes Laertius, seem by their form to belong to the
fifth century. A collection of their sayings was made by Demetrius Phalereus,
who did the same for the fables of Aesop. A good deal of it is preserved in
Stobaeus (3, 1, 172).2 Theophrastus? is the first writer in whom we find the
pretty story of the tripod which was to be given to the wisest of the wise. Each
in turn awarded it to another whom he held wiser than himself: after going
round them all, it was consecrated to Apollo. The same theme is found in the
story of the golden bowl, which Callimachus (fr. 191 Pf.) makes the ghost of
Hipponax relate to the quarrelling scholars. To give an idea of the wide and
varied influence of these traditional stories and sayings, we can point to the
Letters of the Sages — a kind of novel of which pieces are preserved in Diogenes
Laertius — and to Plutarch’s Supper of the Seven Sages, in which Aesop also takes
part, sitting on a little foot-stool, and finally to the rather wooden Ludus
Septem Sapientium of Ausonius.4

VS 10. B. SNELL, Leben und Meinungen der Sieben Weisen. 3rd ed. Munich 1952,
with notes and translation; cf. Thesaurismata. Festschr. f. Ida Kapp. Munich 1954,
105.
1 On the fables that collected around Anacharsis: F. H. REUTERS, De Anacharsidis epistulis.
Diss. Bonn 1957.
2 On their genuineness or otherwise see WEHRLI op. Cit., 69. 3 Plutarch, Solon 4.
4 The story of the tripod going round all the sages recurs in the Historia Monachorum;
see A. J. FESTUGIERE’S valuable article ‘Lieux communs littéraires et themes de folk-lore
dans l’hagiographie primitive’, Wien, Stud. 73, 1960, 123 (144).
157
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

E Religious Literature
eens
We have seen great individuals like Archilochus and Solon against a
:
of important social changes. Such changes did not come to Pa purely on t
plane of economics and politics: the rise of new social strata had its sie
to
in religious questions and demands which the world of Homer was unable
meet. After the passing of that age, two strongly divergin g tendenci es appear
in the expression of the Greek national spirit. A trend towards realism, such as
we found in the Ionian poets of the seventh and sixth centuries, has its antithesis
in a leaning towards the marvellous and towards deeper religious speculation.
We must also bear in mind that the changes in social structure may well have
brought into sight a great many attitudes and ways of thought which were
covered up and concealed by the aristocratic strata of Homer’s world. ra
The sixth century, which brought the rise of Ionian philosophy and with it
the beginnings of European science, yet took a delight in such fabulous per-
sonages as Aristeas of Proconnesus. Some good illustrations of the mass of
legend that accumulated round him are given in Herodotus (4. r4f.). He once
fell seemingly dead in his own country, but his body disappeared, and at the
same time he was seen by different people in widely separated places, apparently
hale and hearty. At Metapontum, however, he was seen as a raven, following in
the train of Apollo.
Aristeas is dated by Suidas under Croesus and Cyrus:' his name was attached
to a hexameter poem called the Arimaspea (sc. é7y). The plot of this travel
fantasy took Aristeas, possessed by Apollo, northwards as far as the Issedones.
The few surviving fragments show that the poem contained a remarkable
mixture of Ionian exploration and pure fable. Among the Issedones he writes,
like any real traveller, a notebook on the northern peoples, and gives a long
account of the one-eyed Arimaspians, the treasure-guarding griffins and the
Hyperboreans, the dwellers on the northern sea who were the darlings of
Apollo.
It is impossible to say how far Aristeas is historical and whether he wrote
the Arimaspea. But K. Meuli? has pointed out the context in which all these
tales fit. We hear of a man whose soul can leave his body when it chooses
(according to Suidas); in a possessed state he goes on marvellous journeys; he
sometimes assumes an animal form: all this belongs to the realm of shamanism.
Meuli has convincingly demonstrated to its importance in the Scythian world,
where shamanistic ideas and practices were very widespread, and has pointed
out the lines of connection between the Scythians and the early Greeks.
A comparable figure was the supposed Hyperborean Abaris. According to
Herodotus (4. 36) he was said to have carried an arrow with him all round
the
world. This is a rationalized form of a myth told by Heraclides Ponticus in his
dialogue Abaris,3 in which the wonder-working priest flew to Greece on
one of
* On the date: £. ROHDE, KI. Schr. Hp, HEN], De
2 “Scythica’. Herm. 70, 1935, 121. 3 MEULI Op. cit. 159, 4.
158
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

Apollo's arrows. The list of alleged works of Abaris in Suidas gives a striking
impression of the extent of this species of literature: we find such titles as
Scythian Oracles, Wedding of the Rivergod Hebrus, Songs of Atonement and Arrival
of Apollo among the Hyperboreans.
A Theogony in prose is attributed both to Abaris and to Aristeas, which
suggests that works of the kind were circulating in great numbers. Where we
have any knowledge of them, they seem to be basically in the Hesiodic tradition,
although much of the material is new. They try to be cosmogonies, not just
divine histories. Naturally they have some points of agreement with Ionian
philosophy, which in return could not be uninfluenced by the religious ideas of
the time.’ A Theogony in 5000 hexameters is ascribed to the Cretan Epimenides
(VS 3), the priest who is said to have purified Athens after the killing of Cylon.
This report may be historical, but beside it we find stories of his sleeping many
years in a cave and of other exploits reminiscent of Aristeas. We find kafappot
and oracles circulating under his name also. The last form part of a tradition
which was particularly productive in the sixth century. There were collections
of Delphic oracles and of many others besides, among which a particular
repute was enjoyed by those ascribed to Musaeus (VS 2) — also the alleged
author of a Theogony.
In ancient tradition Musaeus stands next to Orpheus, and thus brings us to all
the questions connected with the latter. The name of the mythical Thracian
singer, dated by his followers before Homer, became attached to a religious
movement whose importance has sometimes been immensely over-estimated,
sometimes, at the hands of radical sceptics, almost wholly denied.2 We know
of more than halfa hundred poems to which the name of Orpheus was attached,
and those that survive — the Hymns, Argonautica, Lithica (on stones and their
working) — show how much was being added even in late imperial times. The
only guide through all this rubbish-dump is a few early references, particularly in
Pindar, Euripides and Plato. In antiquity there were several Theogonies in circu-
lation which claimed to be Orphic. The Platonist Damascius in his treatise Ilepi
TOV mpaTwY apyav gives a brief survey (fr. 28. 54. 60 Kern). The most highly
esteemed was the poem we now call the Rhapsodic Theogony in twenty-four

™ See the next chapter. On the post-Hesiodic Theogonies, esp. that of Epimenides, see
U. HOLSCHER, Herm. 81, 1953, 404 and 408.
2 The pioneer work in evaluating the mystery religions was C. A. LOBECK’s Aglaophamus,
Kénigsberg 1829. WILAMOWITZ roughly expelled Orphism from his picture of Greek
civilization. Material in 0. KERN, Orphicorum Fragmenta. Berl. 1922. For a sceptical view:
J. LINDFORTH, The Art of Orpheus. Calif. Univ. Press 1941. B. R. DODDS, The Greeks and the
Irrational. Lond. 1951, 147. An early origin is reasonably advocated by M. P. NILSSON, ‘Early
Orphism and Kindred Religious Movements’. Harvard Theol. Rev. 28, 1935, 181 (= Opusc.:
Sel. 2, 628); see also his contribution to Gnom. 28, 1956, 18, against the exaggerated scepti-
cism of L. MOULINIER, Orphée et l’orphisme a Vépoque classique. Paris 1955. W. K. C. GUTHRIE,
Orpheus and Greek Religion. 2nd ed. Lond. 1952. Id., The Greeks and their Gods. Boston
1951, 307. For a thorough and judicious account: K. ZIEGLER, ‘Orpheus’ and ‘ Orphische
Dichtung’. RE 18, 1200 and 1321. Some interesting points are raised by w. JAEGER, Die
Theologie der friihen griech. Denker. Stuttg. 1953, 69. R. BOHME, Orpheus. Berl. 1953, stands
almost alone in adopting a very early dating.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

books.! The extant fragments show that its formal side was much influenced
by Hesiod. At the beginning is Chronos, who creates Aether and a silver egg,
out of which the wonderful hermaphrodite being Phanes is hatched. This deity,
among whose many names is Eros, begins the series of reproductive acts which
give rise to Uranus, Cronus and Zeus. It is widely agreed nowadays that this
whole portentous construction is of late origin. It is another question, however,
whether the pedigree of this Rhapsodic Theogony may not go back a very long
way. Sextus Empiricus informs us (test. 191 Kern) that the Orphica of Ono-
macritus, who played an important, if ambiguous, role in the careers of the
Pisistratids,? had cosmogony as one of its themes. It is highly probable then that
there should have been Orphic cosmogonies among the large number that we
may postulate for the sixth century. The parodied cosmogony in Aristophanes
(Birds 685) is very interesting; but it is very hard to identify the Orphic elements
in it.3
Here the burning question is: did the central myth explaining the nature of
man belong to such an early level of Orphic literature? The myth makes the
Titans tear to pieces and devour the infant Dionysus; the thunderbolt of Zeus
burns them to ashes; from these ashes man arises, combining in his nature a
divine element from Dionysus and an evil earthly element from the Titans. This
myth is not attested before Clement of Alexandria (fr. 34 Kern); but Plato
(Laws 3. 701c) speaks of the old Titanic element in those who defy divine and
human laws, as if the reference were immediately intelligible. Nor can we lightly
reject the testimony of Pausanias (8. 37, 5) that Onomacritus took over the
word ‘Titan’ from Homer, founded the orgiastic worship of Dionysus, and
represented the Titans as the authors of the latter’s sufferings. We may reason-
ably suppose that the essential elements were already in existence in the sixth
century. At all events that period witnessed the rise of a number of views on
the nature and destiny of the human soul differing greatly from those of Homer.*
In these views the soul carried the essential nature of man, the divine spark, and
after death it did not go like a fugitive shadow to the gloom of Hades, but had
to give an account of itself. It was tied to a succession of rebirths, leading either
back to its divine habitation or to everlasting damnation. Invaluable information
is given on this doctrine by Pindar (Olymp. 2. 63; cf. fr. 129-133). He does not
directly label it as Orphic, but there can be doubt that he is moving in that
particular framework, especially as his verses refer to king Theron of Agri-
gentum, and as such belong to the area of Magna Graecia, which was particu-
arly given to mystical doctrines. A token of this is the little leaves of gold
(‘death-tickets’, as Diehls has called them) which were buried in the graves of
sectaries to help them find their way in the hereafter.
Thus, despite all the defects of our information, we can see that the fifth
century witnessed an Orphic movement which urged men to purify the soul,
' Suidas s.v.: "Opdevs: fepot Adyou ev pawbwdlas Kd’.
* Herodotus 7. 6, on his forging of oracles of Musaeus.
3 Cf. H. SCHWABL, “Weltschopfung’. RE S 9, 1433.
4 Jaeger op. cit. 88.
160
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

to free it from the trammels of the body,! and to unite it eternally with the
Godhead. We can also show that there was an extensive literature associated
with these themes. Apart from the theogonies the Orphists wrote Songs of
Atonement (kaSappot) and probably a Catabasis, a poem dealing with the descent
of Orpheus into Hades. All that we know of the underlying forces and tensions
of the sixth century suggests that we have to refer the beginnings of the Orphic
movement and Orphic literature to this period.
The very paucity of the evidence is a warning against over-estimating the
extent of the movement. Like most sects, it would have drawn its followers
from the most varied levels of society: deep religious feeling would have co-
existed from the beginning with formalism and external rituals of purity. The
question how far it arose from purely Greek roots, or how far it derived from
eastern doctrines of metempsychosis, does not permit a simple solution. One
must deprecate the view which sees Orphism and possibly even Platonism as
being foreign flowers grafted on to a Greek stem. Orphism is part and parcel
of our picture of the Greek world: what its relation was to Pythagorean teach-
ings we shall discuss later.
This branch of literature which we have been discussing includes also the
Theologia of Pherecydes of Syros (VS 7), which is reckoned the first book in
prose and can be placed about the middle of the sixth century. What we know
of its cosmogony and theogony illustrates the tendency for ancient myths,
speculation and elements of the most various origin to form ever new combina-
tions. The beginning tells us of Zas, Cronus? and Chthonia, the primal forces
which have existed for ever. This marks a step forward from Hesiod, who gives
even to Chaos a beginning in time. The immemorial marriage of heaven and
earth is turned by Pherecydes into a marriage of Zeus and Chthonia, the depths
of the earth. Zeus gives her a garment on which he has embroidered the earth
and the ocean. Here we have a mythical prototype for the gifts to the bride in
the Anacalypteria, the feast of unveiling. The earth thus is a possession of
Chthonia: the depths are clothed with the many-coloured surface. Cronus
creates from his own semen fire, air and water, out of which, in five caves or
holes (j:vyo/) in the universe, all the multiplicity of the gods takes form. Con-
flicts between these beings for the rulership of the world were also narrated:
many features, such as the transformation of Zeus into Eros in the act of crea-
tion, remind us of Orphic teachings.

F The Beginnings of Philosophy

In strong contrast to western Greece, with its leaning towards mysticism,
the great Ionian centre of Miletus in this eventful sixth century became the
t The formula cfpa-cpa is Orphic, at least in its meaning, as ZIEGLER op. cit. 1378 and
GUTHRIE, The Greeks and their Gods 311, 3, demonstrate against WILAMOWITZ. For a
different view: NILSSON, Gnom. 28, 1956, 18.
2 So instead of Chronos with H. FRANKEL, Ztschr.f.Aesth. 25, 1931, Beilage p. 115 (=
Wege und Formen friihgriech. Denkens. Munich and ed. 1960, 19); for Pherecydes the names
were probably equivalent.
161
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

birthplace of philosophy, numbering Thales, Anaximander and Anaximenes

among its citizens. Miletus had sent out colonies in large numbers, and was open
to all the influences that streamed in upon it from far and wide.! The rich endow-
ments of the Ionian people, fated to reach full development only on Asiatic
soil, enable us to see why it was here particularly that a new kind of question
began to be asked about the world. The importance of this intellectual develop-
ment makes us sadly conscious of the limits of our knowledge. Of the views of
these men only one single sentence can be reckoned to have come down to us,
and that imperfectly. Numerous notices are derived from the lost work of
Theophrastus on the Teachings of the Natural Philosophers (Dvotxav dd€ar).? In
other words, to a large extent we know of their doctrines only through the
interpretation and refutation of their views by Aristotle and his school. .
The circumstances outlined explain why we find conflicting interpretations
of these first steps of philosophy. Their importance as the beginnings of western
science explain the emotions with which many writers look on this abandon-
ment of all mythical elements as a radical break with the past, a deliberate and
conscious step forward onto new ground. On the other hand, we find a strong
tendency to take this passage in the intellectual life of the Greeks out of the
context where it belongs. Thus the picture drawn by Aristotle of this archaic
natural philosophy as a rather restricted quest for the primal substance has been
significantly broadened in two directions. Werner Jaeger*+ has shown us that
this early philosophy still contains an element of theology, that the enquiry into
the basic stuff of the world implies a search for what is divine in it. On the other
hand, the greater readiness with which classical scholars now accept the notion
of eastern influence has had important effects. Such works as Uvo Hilscher’s5
show that these thinkers did indeed free themselves from the myths of epic
tradition, but that the decisive stimulus to their thought came from the great
cosmogonic myths of the East, with their strong element of speculation.
If Thales ever wrote a book expounding his views, it was lost very soon. In
the Metaphysics (1. 3; 983b20) Aristotle makes him the originator of a doctrine
that all things were derived from one primal substance: this substance he took
to be water. The earth he considered as floating on water, and he explained
earthquakes as arising from fluctuations in this supporting medium (A 15).° Itis
not at all likely that at such an early date Thales posited a basic substance trans-
muting itself into all others; but we may believe the tradition that he considered
water as the origin of all things and as supporting the earth. The passages in the
Iliad (14. 201, 246) which make Ocean the origin of the gods or of everything
could hardly in themselves have been an adequate stimulus to this view: we
* On the economic prosperity of Ionia see c. ROEBUCK, Ionian Trade and Colonization.
New York 1959.
7 O. REGENBOGEN, RE 7, 1535. How far later writers were indebted is discussed by uv.
HOLSCHER, Herm. 81, 1953, 259.
3 H. CHERNISS, Aristotle’s Criticism of Pre-Socratic Philosophy. Baltimore 1935.
* The Theology of Early Greek Philosophers. Oxf. 1947.
5 “Anaximander und die Anfange der Philosophie’. Herm. 81, 1953, 257 and 385.
6 The numbers refer to VS unless otherwise stated.
162
 THE ARCHAIC’ PERIOD
have rather to reckon with the influence of Egyptian and Babylonian doctrines
on the origin and disposition of the universe. This is made easier by the quite
credible accounts of his having visited Egypt, where he is said to have learned
to measure the height of pyramids by their shadows and to have evolved a
theory of the Nile’s annual flood.! This later became a traditional problem of
ancient science. Either there or from the Near East he learned an approximate
rule for solar eclipses, whereby he was able to predict that of 585. It indicates
the nature of his studies that a Nautical Astronomy was attributed to him. There
is no decisive evidence that Thales broke fresh ground by using geometrical
theorems; but modern scholars would not underestimate his contribution in
this connection.” Others ascribed it to Phocus of Samos. If we take seriously the
report, derived from the sth-century epic writer Choerilus of Samos, that he
taught the immortality of the soul (A 1), Egyptian influence was probably at
work here also. We have of course no knowledge of Thales’ conception of the
soul. Consequently his statement (A 22) that the magnet has a soul may refer
to nothing more than a force capable of producing effects. He is also supposed
to have said that everything is full of gods: a statement (whether truly his or
not) which could serve as a trade-mark of this early philosophy.
The conception of the Milesians as influenced by eastern cosmogonies only
brings out the more clearly their own achievement: they freed scientific specula-
tion from its immemorial swaddling-clothes of myth, and they retain beyond
cavil the credit of having founded western science.
Anaximander of Miletus, according to ancient reports (A 1, 11), was born
about 610 and died shortly after 546. Thus he was roughly Thales’ contem-
porary: later tradition made him his pupil. Reports of his taking part in founding
the colony of Apollonia on the Black Sea and of his visiting Sparta show him as
a true Ionian, taking a busy part in the life of his world. He published a book,
later known as [epi dvcews (a title given to many such works), which was still
extant and accessible to the early Peripatetics.
Anaximander, like Thales, enquired into the first origin of things: it is un-
certain whether he used the word dpy7 to designate it (cf. A 9, 11). This origin
he found in the apeiron, which can mean infinite as well as formless. This
apeiron is not an element with physical qualities, nor yet is it a mixture? which
contained all things from the beginning. According to Aristotle (Phys. 1. 4;
187a20) he held that all things came from the apeiron by a separating out
(€xxpiveoOa.); but the interpretation of this as the unmixing of a mixture is
probably secondary. Anaximander meant by it a true coming into existence
from the undefined and inexhaustible basic stuff that is prior to any individual
existence. Thus the unfathomable deep, the abyss, from which Being proceeds
in eastern cosmogonies, has been converted by Anaximander, using the abstract-
ing power of Greek thought and language, into an ideal conception — the
undefined. A purely material interpretation of the apeiron is impossible: it has
1 A 16 with Gigon (v. sup.), 48.
2 Thus 0. BECKER, Das mathematische Denken der Antike. Studienh. z. Altertumswiss. 3.
Gottingen 1957. K. Vv. FRITZ, Gnom. 30, 1958, 81. 3 HOLSCHER Op. Cit. 263.
163
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE
ng
too many attributes of divinity. It is immortal and eternal; it has no beginni
really not a
(a respect in which it differs from the Chaos of Hesiod, who is
cosmologist at all); it embraces and determines all that is divine (A 15).
Out of this infinite and undivided substance the seeds of generation separate
themselves; and from them come the individual existences (A 10). A sentence
of Anaximander’s preserved by Simplicius (B 1) shows that he viewed this
coming into existence from an ethical standpoint closely related with dike and
its problems: ‘And the source of coming-to-be for existing things is that into
which destruction too happens necessarily, for they commit injustice and
perform atonement each to other according to the determining of ime
Many attempts have been made to settle which words are meant to be Anaxi-
mander’s.? At all events it is he who speaks of the atonement which all things
that come into existence have to make by their passing away. He does not mean
that individuation is a sin: it is the fact that things ‘thrust themselves into space’
which causes each to take away or lessen the others’ viability.
In the endless coming-to-be and passing-away in the apeiron numerous uni-
verses take their rise. At the middle of our universe is this earth, motionless
because it is equidistant from all the boundaries. It is shaped like the drum of a
column, the height being one third of the diameter. Hence Anaximander’s map
of the world — the first drawn by a Greek — showed it as a circle. We must
imagine it as one of those simplified diagrammatic maps such as Herodotus
ridicules (4. 36). A Babylonian example? represents the eastern forerunners of
such maps. From the east also came the idea of the sun-dial that Anaximander
built (A 4).
Anaximander was following Thales’ precedent when he made earth come into
being out of the water which originally covered it by a process of drying-out.
Life also began in the water; man was at first a kind of fish, who later on land
shed the scales necessary for aquatic life and altered his way of living (A 30).
A bold and fanciful theory is advanced to account for the stars (A of. 21f.)
Around the earth with its envelope of air there was formed originally, like the
bark round a tree, a shell of fire. This ‘tore off’? and broke up into wheel-
shaped formations having a core of fire and an outer layer of air. Where the
latter has a hole in it, the inner fire is visible as a star: closing of the aperture cuts
off its light. Anaximander is said even to have estimated their magnitudes. The
sun, he thought, had about the same circumference as the earth — a remarkable
view, since as late as Pericles’ day a thinker of Anaxagoras’ stamp could reckon
the sun as ‘a little larger than the Peloponnese’ (VS 59 A 42).
The third Milesian, Anaximenes, comes a little later, and was of course
represented as the pupil of Anaximander. He died in the Olympiad 528/25.
Until recently he was overshadowed by his predecessor, and it was reckoned a

" On this expression see HOLSCHER op. cit. 270.

* R. MONDOLFO, Problemi del pensiero antico. Bologna 1936, 23. F. DIRLMEIER, Rhein. Mus.
87, 1938, 376; Herm. 75, 1940, 329. K. DEICHGRABER, Herm. 75, 1940, 10. G.
VLASTOS, Class.
Phil. 42, 1947, 168. w. KRAUS, Rhein. Mus. 93, 1950, 372.
+ BENGTSON-MILOJCIC, Grosser hist. Weltatlas 1. Munich
1953, 8.
164
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

retrograde step that he took air to be the primal substance instead of the feature-
less apeiron. In reality, however, he makes an important step forward in the
struggle towards a scientific world-picture. His views also had oriental proto-
types. In the cosmogony of Sanchuniathon! the ‘interweaving’ of air in motion
gives rise to Mot, the wet primeval earth; and when he differs from Anaxi-
mander in making the sky once more press on the rim of the earth, and in
making the sun and moon run round the rim of the earth’s disc at night, con-
cealed behind high mountains, he is carrying on a Babylonian tradition. More
important than these borrowed doctrines is his attempt to derive the origins of
the cosmos from a substance whose capacity for changing its properties can be
experimentally known. Through changes in its temperature and humidity, air
can become visible (A 7). The process of condensation leading from air through
cloud, water and earth to stone is very rationally thought out. In the other
direction, rarefaction of air gives rise to fire. To Anaximenes air has no end, and
we meet again the word apeiron which Anaximander applied to the primal
substance. It is air that supports the earth’s disc (which is now rather thinner
than before), and the human soul also is part of the air (B 2). It is easy to see
how this could come from the old notion of the breath-soul, even though it is
doubtful whether we possess the words of Anaximenes himself. Of his language
we are told (A 1) that it was an unpretentious Ionic. If ever he uses similes —
comparing the rotation of the stars around the earth’s disc to the turning round
of a cap on one’s head (A 7), or comparing lightning with the phosphorescence
of water round oar-blades at night (A 17) — it is not stylistic adornment, but a
way of grasping reality which plays an important part in archaic thought.?
Chronology alone connects the three Milesians with a man who powerfully
influenced the spiritual life of antiquity. We hear of Pythagorean brotherhoods
enjoying high repute in cities of southern Italy in the late sixth century and
pursuing an aristocratic line in politics.3 Two rather difficult expressions which
recur in our extant references to the Pythagoreans can be best interpreted as
follows: the mathematici were full members of the fraternity, while the acus-
matici were followers of the doctrine without being full members. No doubt
the latter were responsible for the wide influence and political overtones of the
movement in southern Italy. The democratic factions sometimes hit back, and
in the middle of the fifth century a conflict of this kind led to the burning of the
Pythagorean meeting-house in Croton. But shortly after 400 we find Archytas,
a distinguished member of the school, in power in Tarentum. Plato visited him
on his travels, and was greatly stimulated by his Pythagorean teaching. We hear
little of the Pythagoreans in the Hellenistic period, but under the surface their
teaching continued. They had a revival of strength in the first century B.c., and
the late Empire saw a revival of what we should now call Pythagoreanism.
1 Philo ap. Euseb. P.E. 1. to.
2 B. SNELL, ‘Gleichnis, Vergleich, Metaphor, Analogie’, in Die Entdeckung des Geistes. 3rd
ed. Hamburg 1955, 258; with further references 284. 2.
3 Bibliography in H. BENGTSON, Griech. Geschichte. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 139. 3. K. Vv.
FRITZ op. cit. inf. and ‘Mathematiker und Akusmatiker bei den alten Pythagoreern’. Sitzb.
Bayer. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1960/11.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The man who began this movement is very imperfectly known to us. The
biography given in Diogenes Laertius (8. 1), like those by Porphyry and
Jamblichus, all compilations of late date, shows us just as the more detached
references do what a mass of anecdote and miracle had submerged the historical
personality.' Pythagoras was born in Samos, but the scene of his activities was
southern Italy, where he founded his brotherhood in Croton and died in Meta-
pontum. We can accept the story that he fled from the tyranny of Polycrates,
which was established about $30.
The absurdities of the later tradition make the few early notices all the more
important. In the first place come the verses in which Xenophanes ridicules
him, which must have been written either in his lifetime or shortly after his
death (VS 21 B 7): Pythagoras, he says, on hearing the cries of a beaten dog,
recognized the voice of a friend whose soul now inhabited the animal’s body.
This passage confirms metempsychosis as one of Pythagoras’ own doctrines,
and casts light on the various accounts of what he had been in previous incarna-
tions. We can also say with certainty that the chain of re-births had an ethical
and religious objective in the complete purification of the soul. Ion of Chios,
who lived in the fifth century, not so very long after Pythagoras, attributes to
him the doctrine that a courageous and moral life earns a better lot for the soul
in the hereafter (VS 36 B 4). It follows that the strict rules of living of the
Ilv0aydpevos tpo7os come from the earliest stages of the movement. It is easy to
see why believers in metempsychosis should forbid the eating of flesh and the
wearing of woollen garments, but the celebrated abstention from beans is more
difficult, and other of their prohibitions seem quite senseless. It is not of course
possible to date all the elements of this amorphous mass of rules.
The question of the relation of early Pythagoreanism to Orphism raises its
head, but with our present knowledge we cannot give a simple answer.” There
may be connections here and there, but seen as a whole, the momentous achieve-
ment of Pythagoras seems to have consisted in his raising those doctrines of the
nature and destiny of the human soul, which came out of obscurity into the
light during the sixth century, into the realm of scientific thought, and handing
them on as a philosophic heritage to posterity. It is an obvious possibility that
foreign influences played a part in his mental development. Ancient tradition —
admittedly untrustworthy — speaks of extensive travels; a stay in Egypt is first
mentioned by Isocrates (Bus. 28).
Strangely enough, the Pythagorean circle, with its strong leaning towards
mysticism, did more than all the Ionian philosophers for the development of the
exact sciences. It was a momentous step forward when number was declared
(probably by Pythagoras himself) to be the informing principle of the universe.
From this point the most various lines of thought branched out, leading to the
development of mathematics, the elaboration of a matter-form dualism, and to

* J. LEVY, Recherches sur les sources de la légende de Pythagore. Paris 1926.

* W. RATHMANN, Quaestiones Pythegoreae Orphicae Empedocleae. Diss. Halle TOR eee
KERENYI, Pythagoras und Orpheus: Praludien zu einer kiinftigen Geschichte der Orphik
und des
Pythagoreismus. 3rd ed. Ziirich 1950.
166
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
numerical speculations of the most diverse kinds. Compared with the great
impetus thus given, the fact that the theorem named after Pythagoras was
known earlier is quite unimportant. The supreme importance of number as the
element of unity in the diversity of phenomena could be recognised most
immediately in the relation between the lengths and notes of stretched strings.
The discovery that musical pitch was determined by numerical relations must
have made a great impression and thus opened the door to the general theory
that only those things expressible as numbers have a real existence. Music
always had a high place in their circles, and the very perfection of harmony
was thought to accompany the well-proportioned revolutions of the heavenly
spheres. We are not well able now to answer the questions how far the important
discoveries and theorems belong to the early days of the movement, or to
distinguish the contributions of Pythagoras himself from those of his followers.
But little is gained by an excess of scepticism which minimises Pythagoras’ own
achievement.! The thesis advanced by E. Frank, that the so-called Pythagorean
mathematics did not arise until the end of the fifth century, can now be safely
disregarded.
According to individual prepossessions, Pythagoras was either praised for the
extent of his learning or condemned (as for example by Heraclitus) for barren
polymathy. His followers explained the range of his accomplishments by a
special dispensation which preserved him from the normal oblivion between
one incarnation and the next (A 8 with Empedocles VS 31 B 129). The great
reputation of his learning makes us suspect the report (A 17) that he left nothing
in writing. But possibly we are now so accustomed to books that we under-
estimate the potentialities of oral tradition.

0. GIGON, Bibliographische Einfiihrungen in das Studium der Philos. 5, Antike Philos.

Bern 1948. D. J. ALLEN, ‘A Survey of Work Dealing with Greek Philosophy
from Thales to the Age of Cicero 1945-49’. Philos. Quart. 1, 1950, 61. E. L.
MINAR, ‘A Survey of Recent Work in Pre-Socratic Philos.’ Class. Weekly 47,
1953-54, 161. 177. A book still indispensable for ancient philosophy in general is
E. ZELLER’s Die Philosophie der Griechen in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung. A
reprint of the last edition (Leipz. 1920. 3 parts in six volumes) is shortly due
from Olms of Hildesheim. A valuable new edition of the first two volumes in an
Italian translation by rR. MONDOLFO 1932-38. The first volume of UEBERWEG’S
Grundriss, revised by K. PRAECHTER (last edition 1923) is still valuable for its
very full bibliographies. 0. Gicon, Grundprobleme der antiken Philosophie. Samml.
Dalp 66. Berne 1959. W. K. C. GUTHRIE, The Greek Philosophers from Thales to
Aristotle. Lond. 1950. Texts with bibliog.: Diels-Kranz VS. G. s. KIRK and J. 8.
t Pythagoras is thought to have been very important in the history of mathematics by
G. MARTIN, Klassische Ontologie der Zahl. Cologne 1956, and O. Becker, Gnom. 29, 1957,
441, agrees with him. On the other side: £. FRANK, Platon und die sogenannten Pythagoreer.
Halle 1923, and K. v. FRITZ op. cit. (p. 163, n. 3) 19.
167
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

RAVEN, The Presocratic Philosophers. A Critical History with a Selection of Texts.

Cambridge 1957. Students’ ed. 1961. — Studies: w. NESTLE, Vom Mythos zum
Logos. 2nd ed. Stuttg. 1942. 0. GIGON, Der Ursprung der griech. Philos. Basel 1945.
F. M. CORNEORD, Principium Sapientiae. Cambr. 1952. K. DEICHGRABER, “Persdn-
lichkeitsethos und philosophisches Forschertum der vorsokr. Denker’, in Der
listensinnende Trug des Gottes. Gdtt. 1952, 57. J. Bs MCDIARMID, ‘Theophrastus
on the Presocratic Causes’. Harv. Stud. 61, 1953, 85. WILHELM NESTLE, Vor-
sokratiker. Ausgewahlt mit Einleitungen. Cologne 1956. Q. CATAUDELLA, I fram-
menti dei Presocratici. Traduz. 1, Padua 1958. — Anaximander: N. RESCHER,
‘Cosmic Evolution in A.’. Studium Generale 11, 1958, 718. CH. H. KAHN, A. and
the Origins of Greek Cosmology. New York 1960. Cc. 1. CLASSEN, ‘Anaximander’.
Herm. 90, 1962, 159. G. $. KIRK — J. E. RAVEN, The Presocratic Philosophers. Camb.
1960 (select texts with valuable criticism). - On the Pythagoreans: A. DELATTE,
La Vie de Pythagore de Diogéne Laérce. Brussels 1922. K. v. FRITZ, Pythagorean
Politics in Southern Italy. New York 1940. J. £. RAVEN, Pythagoreans and Eleatics.
Cambridge 1948. L. FERRERO, Storia del pitagorismo nel mondo romano. Turin 1955.
J. S. MORRISON, ‘Pythagoras of Samos’. Class. Quart. 6, 1956, 135. M. TIMPANARO
CARDINI, I Pitagorici. Testimonianze e frammenti. Fasc. 1. Florence 1958 (Bibl. d.
studi sup. 28). J. A. PHILIP, “The Biographical Tradition: Pythagoras’. Trans.
Am. Phil. Ass. 90, 1959, 185. To these we may now add: Ww. K. C. GUTHRIE, A
History of Greek Philosophy. I: The Earlier Presocratics and Pythagoreans. London
1962. W. BURKERT, Weisheit und Wissenschaft. Studien zu Pythagoras, Philolaos
und Platon. Erlanger Beitr. z. Sprach- und Kunstwiss. 10. Nuremberg 1962 — a
monumental treatment of the whole set of problems with correspondingly full
bibliography. x. v. FriTz’ article ‘Pythagoras’ for Pauly is now in the press.

G Mature Archaic Lyric

I THEOGNIS

The name of Theognis of Megara is attached to a collection of about 1400

elegiac verses which raise difficult problems concerning their content and
structure. The poems are generally of short compass: some are mere distichs;
few are of more than twelve lines. They are mostly concerned with the sym-
posium — the male drinking party. Some parts of the collection give a striking
picture of the development of a drinkers’ code of practice, combining enjoy-
ment of the gifts of Bacchus with decency of form and respect for one’s table
companions. This picture comes out best in the elegy 467-496, which deprecates
heavy drinking and earnestly urges a companion to observe moderation. It
persuasively advocates that state poised between sobriety and complete drunken-
ness which the poet finds most congenial. The maxim ‘in vino veritas’ makes its
appearance here (499).!
At the symposium it was usual to honour the gods with some little songs.
Four of these begin the collection: two to Apollo, one to Artemis, the fourth
to the Muses and Graces.
' V. 501 in a better form in Stobaeus, cf. Alcaeus 333.2936) LPs
168
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

The codex Mutinensis gives us as Book II of the elegies a collection of poems

dealing with the love of boys. It is possible that these rather uninspired produc-
tions were at one time scattered throughout the poems, and were brought
together later. Women are less often mentioned, but a pretty distich (1225)
contains the poet’s avowal that there is no better fortune than to have a good
wife.
An unusually intimate note is struck in the short poem 783-8. The poet
represents himself as a widely-travelled man, who has never found such happi-
ness as in his own beloved country. The whole collection has concern for the
situation of the state as one ofits main themes. But they do not speak of external
foes and of open war in self-defence, as Tyrtaeus and Callinus do. A small
group of elegies is concerned with the growing threat of Persian power, but
here as elsewhere one poem may contradict another close to it: thus in 763 the
growing danger need not hinder the enjoyment of one’s wine, while in 773
Apollo is urgently enjoined to protect the city whose walls he himself raised up.
The circles from which these poems originate took a very different attitude
to the tensions and movements inside the state. We find ourselves in the midst
of that great reshuffling of society that can often be detected as the background
of archaic lyric. It had proved impossible to check the economic and political
rise of new social elements. Nouveaux-riches were met on all sides, and at any
moment the discontent of the masses might help a tyrant to supreme powers in
the state. Thus these elegies echo the resentment and complaints of the nobility.
Once everything was in its proper place: the ‘good’ (ayafol, éo@Aot) were the
great landowners, of noble descent, brought up as befits a gentleman. Wealth
and worth went hand in hand. A deep gulf divided them from the ‘bad’
(kaxot, detAot), who had nothing and were nothing. But now everything is
reversed. Those who once dwelt out of doors like beasts of the forest now come
forward as the ‘good’, while the former owners of that name are in poverty.
These are hard times for the aristocrat whose heart was with boys, horses and
dogs (1255). This wretched money now compels them to form marriage
alliances with the ‘bad’ people for the sake of indecent profit. One takes pains
to get suitable mates for horses, asses and sheep, but now marriages are con-
tracted in which the old inheritance of blood is lost (183). This complaint arises
from the conviction (forcefully expressed in 535) of the absolute permanence
of inherited abilities: a cornerstone of aristocratic philosophy which we shall
find again in various contexts.
It is very hard in this age of revolution for a man of standing to hold his own.
His best weapon is the friendship which unites people like him. Consequently
we are told much about making and keeping friends.
We have given a survey of the collection as a whole, without touching on the
problems that it raises. The very diversity of it — although we have left out a
good deal, such as a dialogue between a woman in love and a man who does
not want her (579) and a versified riddle (1229) — forbids us to suppose that we
have here a literary work following a definite sequence of thought. In addition,
differences in tone and content point to the participation of different poets.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Thus in one place (1181) the hatred of tyrants goes so far as to recommend their
murder, while another poem (824) condemns tyrannicide. Virtue (daper7),
whose soul is righteousness, is more highly lauded than wealth (145), but a
little earlier (129) we read that the only thing that matters is to have good luck.
There are some especially interesting passages in which the aristocratic doctrine
of the permanence of inborn qualities is treated as uncertain or even as exploded:
the bad are not bad from their mother’s womb; they have been made so by
circumstance (305); this is a thing against which one cannot be too much on
guard (31). Cleverness is better than virtue (1071); once even (1117) wealth is
called the greatest of the gods, capable of making bad men good.
Such gross contradictions in sentiment are the most striking proof that the
poems come from several hands. It has long been recognized that in the Theog-
nidea we have a collection which has a rich gnomological literature behind it.
The little that we know of Phocylides, or Demodocus of Leros, who seems to
have been both witty and quarrelsome, from the miserable fragments that
survive gives us some conception of this sort of literature in the sixth century
(fasc. 1 p. 61 D.). If we find in the Theognidea some progress from one theme
to another over various individual poems, it is not the sequence of thought of
one author but the principle adopted by a compiler, who occasionally puts a
statement and its contradiction side by side.
This interpretation of the collection may be reckoned as proven, but we
should go too far if we denied it any unity at all. The themes of the individual
poems may often be unrelated, even at variance with each other, but despite
everything there is a basic unifying element. Virtually all these poems are the
expression of a world in which aristocratic ideals of life are fighting for their
very existence, sometimes with confidence sometimes with misgivings, some-
times with singleminded conviction, sometimes with a willingness to compro-
mise. This is essentially the situation in the sixth century: much may be more
recent, but with the end of the classical period questions of this kind had lost all
real relevance and significance.
There were numbers of collections like ours, and we wonder why this one
should have gained such reputation. It became proverbial in antiquity to say of
anything that ‘it was known before Theognis was born’.! The simplest answer
is still that our collection began with some genuine poems of Theognis of
Megara, who appears in Suidas as the writer of various works in elegiacs with
a gnomic content. However that may be, there certainly was a poet Theognis,
and the determining of his contribution is a task of perennial fascination, in
which for a long time no decisive success was achieved.
The starting-point of all enquiries must always be the ‘seal’ which Theognis
himself set upon the book of poems to his beloved boy Cyrnus. This seal
(o¢pyyis) is mentioned in verses 19-26 of our collection. In the Delphic nome
the seal was the part in which the poet spoke of himself. Consequently we must
take the poet’s mention of his own name as being the seal of authenticity; not
(as has been repeatedly supposed) the address to the boy Cyrnus. It is of course
* Lucilius 952 M. Plut. Mor. 777 C.
170
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

obvious that neither method was capable of safeguarding the integrity of the
poems. We may confidently reckon as authentic those verses (237-254) in which
the poet tells the boy that he has given him wings through these poems, and has
rescued him from the oblivion of posterity. The final complaint that the boy
has been ungrateful is wholly personal in tone. We can also attribute to Theognis
the verses referring to his career, to external dangers and to the unfaithfulness
of his friends.
The ancients placed the height of Theognis’ career in the middle of the sixth
century, but more probably he lived in the late sixth and early fifth. We can
easily believe that exile and poverty may have fallen to his lot. It is very hard
to find evidence to date our present collection. Plato (Meno 95d)! quotes under
the name of Theognis lines found in our collection. This does not of course
mean that he had precisely that one before him. We can hardly think of their
origin as coming from a single deliberate act. More probably the genuine poems
of Theognis were the starting-point of a process which may have lasted for
centuries: they may have been variously cut down or enlarged; verses from such
poets as Solon or Mimnermus may have been added in, until finally the collec-
tion took its present shape. The process took place outside the realm of great
literature: the Alexandrians did not take Theognis under their patronage. An
extreme position is taken up by Aurelio Peretti,? who has the credit for setting
our collection in its gnomological context and for collecting and evaluating the
indirect evidence. In his theory the genuine Theognis had been lost shortly
after Isocrates’ time; Hellenistic and early Byzantine authors quote him purely
from florilegia; the extant collection was a result of Byzantine compilation.
Hence our first papyrus Theognis (Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, nr. 2380) is very important:
it was written in the second or third century of our era and gives verses 254-278
in the same order as our texts. A more plausible theory is that of Adrados: a
loose collection of Cyrnus-poems was made by Theognis in his old age, and
was enlarged with other men’s work in the fifth century; from these materials
the existing selection was made in Hellenistic times. A rather similar view is that
of Carriére, who supposes that our collection came from the fusion of an
Athenian collection of about 400 and an Alexandrian of the first century A.D.
It is impossible to be sure, and one respects the reserve which Burn3 shows in
his recent treatment of the subject.

The most important MSS. are: Mutinensis (now Parisinus Suppl. gr. 388) of
the tenth century; Vaticanus gr. 915 of the thirteenth (according to D. c. c.
youNG, Parola di passato 10, 1955, 206 this MS. comes from the school of
™ On the meaning of dAtyov pweraBds PERETTI (v. inf.). 74. 2.
2 In the work cited in the bibliography to this section.
3 The reader should particularly consult Burn’s useful list (p. 258) of fourteen quotations
from Theognis in which verses from our corpus are referred to other authors, likewise his
collection of quotations from Theognis in authors before 300 B.C. (p. 260) and the list of
verses quoted in Athenaeus and Stobaeus which are missing in our present text.
17I
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Planudes. The collation, according to c. GALLAVOTTI, Riv. Fil. 27, 1949, 265,
leaves much to be desired); Marcianus 522 of the fifteenth. On a MS. in Brussels
see A. GARZYA, Riv. Fil. 1953, 143.— Text: Anth. Lyr. 3rd ed. fasc. 2.J.CARRIERE,
Coll. des Un. de Fr. 1948 (with comm. crit. and trans.); on which see J. KROLL,
Gnom. 27, 1955, 76. A. GARZYA, Florence 1958 (with trans. notes, testimonia
and index). F. R. ADRADOS, Liricos griegos. Elegiacos y yambégrafos arcdicos 2.
Barcelona 1959 (with trans.). D. YOUNG, Leipz. 1961 (with verbal index). —
Analysis: J. KROLL, Theognis — Interpretationen. Phil. Suppl. 29/1, 1936. J. CAR-
RIERE, Théognis de Mégare. Paris 1948. L. WOODBURY, ‘The seal of Theognis’.
The Phoenix. Suppl. 1, 1952, 20. AUR. PERETTI, Teognide nella tradizione gnomo-
logica. Pisa 1953, with good bibliography. M. VAN DER VALK, ‘Theognis’.
Humanitas 7/8, 1956, 68. B. A. VAN GRONINGEN, La Composition littéraire
archaique grecque. Verh. Nederl. Ak. N. R. 65/2. Amsterdam 1958, 140. C. M.
Bowra, Early Greck Elegists. Lond. 1938, repr. 1959. F. S. HASLER, Unter-
suchungen zu Th. Zur Gruppenbildung im 1. Buch. Winterthur 1959. A. R. BURN,
The Lyric Age of Greece. Lond. 1960, 247.

2 THE EPIGRAM AND THE SCOLION

We have pursued the history of elegy as far as the problems of the Theognidea,
and now we must consider two phenomena which are closely related to elegy
— the one in its form, the other in its content.
The early Greek epigrams stood in much the same relation to great poetry
as a sketch does to the paintings of a Polygnotus. But it is one of the distinguish-
ing features of Greek civilization that handicraft in it has more of art, and art
more of handicraft, than anywhere else in history. Thus we can justify a word
here on archaic inscriptions in verse.
The oldest of these (53), which we previously (p. 12) mentioned as the
earliest monument of the Attic dialect, is on a Dipylon vase, which it promises
as a prize to the best dancer. An interesting and exceptional case is the bowl from
Ischia, of only slightly more recent date, with an inscription made up of an
iambic trimeter with irregular opening and two hexameters. Epigrams of one
or more hexameters are fairly common in the sixth century. They are far more
frequent on the mainland than among the eastern Greeks: Corinth and its
colony Corcyra are best represented. The inscriptions are mostly funerary or
dedicatory: the hexameters accompanying the mythological scenes of the chest
of Cypselus, described by Pausanias (5, 18 f.), are so far as we know exceptional.
Our material is very sparse, but the evidence points to an introduction of the
distich typeof epigram from Greek-speaking Asia Minor. On the mainland it
was Athens that particularly took up and developed this form. If we call Solon
to mind, we shall see that the elegy followed precisely the same path.
The technique of the rhapsodes can be seen behind the inscriptions in hexa-
meters, but the distich type is essentially a short elegy, very seldom exceeding
the favourite length of two lines. The precise connection is obscure, but it is a
reasonable conjecture that as a lament for the dead the elegy had its effect on
* Numbers according to FRIEDLANDER-HOFFLEIT (v. inf.).
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

funerary inscriptions, and that its religious associations fitted it for dedications.
The oldest fragment of a votive inscription (94; 7th century) has elegiac features
of language.
Iambic and trochaic epigrams are much less common. One of these deserves
special mention: an inscription in the Boeotian temple of Apollo Ptoeus, in
which Alcmeonides, the son of Alemeon, a member of the clan which played
such a significant part in Athenian history, dedicates a statue of the god in
return for victory at the Panathenaea. Obviously the name necessitated iambic
metre.
The early epigrams are all anonymous; consequently it was inevitable that
the more effective specimens should be attributed to well-known poets. The
process began with Homer, and in many cases it is so palpable that a thorough-
going scepticism is justified.1
We previously mentioned that the Theognidea contain a great deal of table-
poetry, and that the elegy to a large extent belonged to the dining-hall. But the
all-male gathering, an important feature in Greek social life, developed in the
scolion a special form of song to accompany drinking. The scholium to Plato’s
Gorgias 451e has preserved the statements of Dicaearchus and Aristoxenus (both
pupils of Aristotle) which give us the picture of a song which did not go round
the table in regular sequence, but was taken up in turn by the best singers,
wherever they happened to be sitting. From its pursuing this irregular course
around the company it was called cxoAvy (=crooked). The interpretation is
rather laboured; but modern scholarship has devised nothing better.
In the beginning such songs were presumably improvised — a practice which
can be paralleled today in folk-song. But in addition considerable poets wrote
scolia. A passage in the Protagoras has made famous the scolion of Simonides in
which he gives his views on Pittacus’ saying about the difficulty of virtue.
Scolia as good as this one were very soon written down: at the same time a
great many anonymous songs which found favour were snatched from their
context and buried in anthologies. Besides many scattered examples, we have
in Athenaeus (15. 694c) a short collection of 25 of these Attic drinking songs, a
very valuable survival. They are mostly of four lines, some of two, and there is
one distich (23), all in simple lyric metre.
It is not only the first four little hymns at the beginning of the collection that
remind us of the Theognidea. In the other songs also we hear the aristocracy
singing between bumpers of their joys and cares and the principles that govern
their life. One song (14) urges us to keep company only with the virtuous: this
it represents as a wise saying of Admetus, king of the aristocratic Thessalians;
Theognis gave the same advice to his boy Cyrnus. Another anticipates Euripides’
ideas for improving the world and would like to be able to see into a man’s
heart before making a friend of him. The best poetry comes in two poems of
two stanzas each expressing the wish that their writer might be a lyre in the
hands of boys at the Dionysia or a golden ornament worn by a beautiful and
virtuous woman. The political element is strong in these songs. Four of them
« Some good examples in FRIEDLANDER, Op. Cit. 67.
e 173
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

(10-13) praise Harmodius and Aristogiton, according to the common view

(refuted by Thucydides 1, 20; 6, 54 ff.), as the founders of Athenian freedom.!
The 24th song laments those fallen at Leipsydrion in the battle of the Alc-
meonids against Hippias.
There are many indications that this little collection should be dated in the
late sixth and early fifth century. It shows again those qualities which in Solon’s
poems impart beauty to wholly different material: they display with com-
pelling clarity a sincere and immediate response to the things and forces of this
world. Something of the magical quality of Attic literature that reached fulfil-
ment in the classical period shines out in these little poems.
A very different note is struck in a scolion of Hybrias from Crete. The poem
is more recent; we mention it here because it gives a good impression of what
these songs would have sounded like among serious-minded Dorians at an
earlier time.

P, FRIEDLANDER — H. B. HOFFLEIT, Epigrammata, Greek Inscriptions in Verse from

the Beginnings to the Persian Wars. Univ. of Calif. Press. 1948. w. PEEK, Griech.
Vers-Inschriften I. Grab-Epigramme. Beri. 1955; see the exhaustive discussion by
L. ROBERT, Gnom. 31, 1959, 1; ib. Griechische Grabgedichte. Griech. u. deutsch.
Berl. 1960. The Ischia bowl: c. BUCHNER — C. F. RUSSO, Acc. Lincei. Rend. 10,
1955, 215. Scolia: Anth. Lyr. and ed., fasc. 6, 16; fasc. 5, 159. C. M. BOWRA,
Greek Lyric Poetry. 2nd ed. Oxf. 1961, 373; on Hybrias 398. On the scope of the
genre ‘scolion’ (much narrowed in Hellenistic times) see A. E. HARVEY, “The
Classification of Greek Lyric Poetry’ Class. Quart. N.S.5, 1955, 157.

3 ANACREON
More than half a century divides the fowering of Lesbian Lyric from the time
of Anacreon, who was placed by the Alexandrian canon of lyric poets beside
Alcaeus and Sappho. His poems belong to a wholly different world. The Lesbian
poets shared the ideals and way of life of an aristocracy whose mortal enemy
was the tyrant. But in the middle of the sixth century all this was enormously
overshadowed by a new development. The Lydian kingdom, which the men
of Lesbos looked towards with admiration, was shattered by Persian attack.
Sardes fell in 546, and its fall settled the fate of the Ionian colonies in Asia
Minor. Only Miletus was able to secure a renewal of the terms which she had
made with the Lydians, and in Samos Polycrates, the most adroit politician of
all the tyrants, maintained his position supported by a powerful fleet and
extensive commerce. Persian imperialism found an Ionia that had reached a
full-blown maturity. Economic prosperity, the fertile influence of external
cultures, and not least a tendency towards the love of pleasure and calculated
aloofness had quickly ripened her. It is to this world that Anacreon belongs. He
" V. EHRENBERG, ‘Das Harmodioslied’. Wien. Stud. 69, 1956, 57s
174
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

was an Ionian from Teos, a city which was the birthplace of another lyric
writer, Pythermus, of whom we know scarcely more than the name.
As the Persian danger came nearer, the inhabitants of Teos, like those of
Phocaea, left their homes by ship. Abdera in Thrace provided a new home, but
amid perpetual dangers. When Anacreon went with them he was a young man,
and his earliest verses were written at Abdera. He mourns in trochaic metre a
young friend who had died in the fighting for Abdera (90 D.). The same fate
befell a man mentioned in a funeral inscription (100). A single verse (sr)
mentions one who threw his shield into ‘the waters of the sweetly-flowing
river’, and it would be typical of Anacreon to trick out in pompous epic language
a personal narrative which Archilochus despatched more concisely. It was not
only danger, however, that came from the Thracians. In this period Anacreon
wrote the charming poem (88) describing the shy Thracian filly that gambols
over the meadows with awkward leaps, and calls for a skilful rider — a job which
the poet would like to have. His knack of expressing erotic concepts under a thin
veil of imagery is in this poem already fully developed.
The more distinguished tyrants had the ambition to be patrons of the arts,
and so Anacreon, like Ibycus, found his way to Polycrates of Samos. It may be
a pure invention that the messenger of the satrap Oroetes found the tyrant at
table with Anacreon (Herod. 3. 121); but at all events the story reflects the
position which the poet was commonly thought to hold. These palmy days
came to an end when Polycrates fell a victim to the treachery of his Persian
opponents (c. 22). Anacreon now betook himself to the court of Hipparchus
at Athens: an ancient report (Ps.-Plat. Hipparch. 228c) says that the tyrant had
him conveyed to Athens in a penteconter. A good many of the extant poems
were written in Athens, but attempts to show Atticisms in vocabulary or idiom!
have not achieved consistent success owing to the shortage of material for
comparison. We know that one of the herms with inscriptions set up in Attica
by Hipparchus bore an epigram of Anacreon’s (103).
His activities in Athens left other important traces behind them. Among the
many boys whose beauty melted Anacreon’s heart was one Critias, an ancestor
of the politician and poet who was Plato’s uncle. Thus we interpret the ten
hexameters (8 D.=VS 88 B4) in which the younger Critias eloquently pro-
claims the fame of Anacreon. He is the spice of the banquet; he makes women
run mad; he puts the flute to shame by his masterly singing to the lyre. Here
once again the social distinction between the two instruments is underlined. It
is remarkable that Critias prophecies Anacreon’s lasting fame as long as choruses
of women attend the sacred nocturnal festival. We must take Critias’ word for
it? that Anacreon wrote choral odes for such occasions. His reputation is well
attested in the visual arts also. Red-figure pots? show him playing the lyre to a
young and enthusiastic audience, and Pausanias (t, 25, 1) saw a statue of him
on the Acropolis. We know almost nothing of his later years. He may well

' BOWRA (v. inf.), 304.

2Cf) Paper. 9427 P.
3 References in J. G. GRIFFITH, Fifty Years ofClassical Scholarship. Oxf. 1954, 68. Pl. 3. 5.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

have stayed in Thrace for a time: epitaphs forged later’ put his grave in Teos.
The setting of Anacreon’s poetry is the aristocratic symposium — as popular
a feature of life at the courts of tyrants as it had been among the Aeolian or
Megarian nobles. More importance is now attached to elegance of manners.
The poet wants no drunken uproar after the Scythian manner, and the instruc-
tions (43) which he gives to the wine-waiter — to add ten parts of water to five
of wine — show that he desired a very restrained jollity as the background to his
singing. The tone of the conversation, whether at the Samian or the Athenian
court, must have been very different from that in Lesbos. Aristocratic pride of
place could not of course have found free expression where one man held all
the power. Political questions in general are less prominent. There is a striking
contrast between Alcaeus singing to his carousing club-mates of his well-
stocked armoury, and Anacreon at the wine-bowl expressing distaste for the
mention of conflict or hateful warfare (96). The Attic scolion in honour of
Harmodius and Aristogiton is equally in contrast to Anacreon’s tones. His
favourite subjects are outlined in the same poem: the glittering gifts of Aphro-
dite and the happy delights of festival — that ed¢poavvn which Solon (3, 10 D.)
wished for his citizens. For Anacreon and his circle this kind of pleasure neces-
sarily had an erotic colouring. Beautiful boys served at table: many of the poems
are addressed to them; some are even known to us by name, as Cleobulus and
Smerdies. Women also occur, and play no small part in Anacreon’s life and
writings (the poem of Critias spoke only of women). Mostly these women
were unfree, flute-girls or the like, such as commonly attended banquets.
Romantic love with its tragic overtones has no place here. Anacreon’s amours
should not be taken too seriously; nor can they be dismissed as pure pretence.
There is no toying or trifling with love in these poems: its sweetness is expressed
with an intensity which sometimes goes close to pain. The peculiar charm of
this mature Ionic art consists in a singular union of opposites. The poet who
hates all excess and maintains such a careful balance between love and indiffer-
ence, between drunkenness and sobriety (79), is always master of his medium;
yet the magic of his art lies in that gentle resignation which invests everything
with an unconscious inevitability. In his poetry lights and outlines move behind
a shimmering veil. Sappho demands affection with a heart of fire, and her
poems echo many a shrill cry of pain: but Anacreon throws himself from the
Leucadian rocks ‘drunken with love’ (17). The unexpected image of the fatal
leap is here used to describe a yielding to delight. Yet at the very moment of his
fall the poet is perfectly conscious of the pleasure of such intoxication.
We have occasionally remarked that Greek art normally contains a large and
healthy element of craftsmanship. We find this again with Anacreon, and here
again his art reaches to the limits of Greek achievement. The epithets that
crowd his poems are sometimes quite individual, as in the poem (2) invoking
Dionysus, who frolics over the mountains with the young heifer? Eros, the
dark-eyed Nymphs and purple-robed Aphrodite; or where Eros looks at the
poet’s greying chin and flits over his head in a drift of pinions flashing gold (53).
t Anth. Pal. 7. 23-33. 2 Reading AaydAns.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
The colour-epithets are all chosen with propriety, and a feeling for colour is
displayed which we do not otherwise meet till much later. A similar individuality
appears in many of his images. Eros sets to work on his victim like a smith: he
forges him with a heavy hammer and quenches him in the mountain torrent
(45). He plays with dice, but their names are Folly and Confusion (34). The
poet’s feeling for anything tender and fragile comes out in the verses in which he
compares the shyness of youth to that of a fawn abandoned by its mother,
trembling amid the forest (39). Even where the poet laments his old age!
(s. 44, 53), the expression is mild and restrained.
The Alexandrians knew of songs, iambs and elegies of Anacreon, and they
edited his works in five books. The later image of the poet does less than justice
to his range, as we see from a venomous invective in verse against the newly
rich Artemon, hurling Archilochian thunders against the ‘whoreson knave’
who now rides in a luxurious coach and swaggers with his ivory parasol (54).
The new fragments give examples of ironical pathos, particularly in the lament
for the hair of Smerdies.
An art like Anacreon’s defied continuation. Where any such attempt was
made, divorced from the historical circumstances of Ionia, charm gave way to
insipidity, the bitter-sweet enjoyment of love to a superficial pleasure in wine
and women. It is characteristic of the later imitations that they choose, out of
all the rich metrical variety of the genuine poems, by preference metres like the
catalectic iambic or the anaclastic ionic dimeter,? which with conventional
handling give a monotonous humdrum effect. Anacreontic verse was being
written right down to the Byzantine age. Sixty of these poems are preserved in
a collection which comes in manuscripts after the Palatine anthology. The
poems vary in date and quality, but in general they are feeble effusions, partly
responsible for the false view of Anacreon which was long current. But as it
happened, the mediocre had a powerful influence and gave rise to whole move-
ments such as the Anacreontic movement in Germany. Goethe demonstrates
that the breath of genius can call roses into bloom on the thornbush.

Text in Anth. Lyr., 2nd ed., fasc. 4, 160. (references are to this edition). BR.
GENTILI, Anacreonte. Introd. testo critico, trad. studio sui framm. pap. Rome 1958.
New fragments: Ox. Pap. 22, 1954, nr. 2321f., cf. K. LATTE, Gnom. 27, 1955,
495. W. PEEK, ‘Neue Bruchstiicke friihgr. Dichtung’. Wiss. Zeitschr. Univ.
Halle 5, 1955/56, 196. BR. GENTILI, Maia N.S.8, 1956, 181. Analysis: Cc. M.
BowRA, Greek Lyric Poetry, 2nd ed. Oxf. 1961, 268.

4 SONGWRITERS ON THE MAINLAND

If we treat a group of poetesses together here, it is only to get out of a diffi-

culty. We are concerned with personalities for whom our information is as
1 Cf, J. A. DAVISON, ‘Anacreon, Fr. 5. D’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 90, 1959, 40.
Pg eV ery Kr mj ww -v- eS.

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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

scanty as it is unreliable, so that it would be difficult to place them in the historical

development.
Corinna is the authoress of some verses (15 D. 5 Page) reproving Myrtis for
denying her feminine nature and entering into competition with Pindar. The
simplest interpretation of her expressions is that they refer to a contest between
contemporaries. Thus we obtain a date for the poetess Myrtis, who came from
Anthedon on the north coast of Boeotia; whether her competition with Pindar
was historical or merely one of many literary inventions is another question.
In Plutarch (Quaest. Graec. 40, 300f.) she is called roujrpia peAdv; one would
readily take these as being individual lyrics, and her reputed pupil Corinna
certainly wrote such songs. But the possibility of their being choral lyrics
cannot be excluded, and the story of competition with Pindar points that way.
Plutarch (loc. cit.) tells us the content of one of her poems: it was concerned
with the unhappy love of Ochna for the chaste young Eunostus, who died as a
result of her calumnies. This is one of the many Greek versions of the Potiphar
theme: to us it is a valuable indication how rich local legend was in love-motifs
which later supplied material for great poetry.
We have been able to form a much better picture of the poetry of Corinna
of Tanagra since a papyrus from Hermopolis (nr. 162 P. t Page) brought some
appreciable groups of verses to our knowledge. We find here a ‘contest’ theme
that occurs elsewhere:! the contest of Helicon and Cithaeron. The hills engage
in a musical contest: we can still make out that Cithaeron ended her song with
the tale of the infant Zeus and the Curetes. The Muses, who are at once audience
and mistresses of ceremonies, invite the gods to decide the contest. Cithaeron
wins amid an angry shower of rocks from Helicon — a bad loser.
A second part of the papyrus tells how the seer Acraephen assuages the
anxiety which Asopus is feeling about his daughter by bringing joyful tidings:
great gods have found her worthy of their love, and she will become the
ancestress of great princely houses. Then Acraephen, whom we may suppose to
be in the service of Apollo Ptoeus, tells how he came to have his job.
What else we know of Corinna’s poetry is all concerned with Boeotian
myths, some purely local, others more widely known. She wrote of the Seven
against Thebes and of the slaying of the Teumessian fox by Oedipus, who was
the hero of many Boeotian legends. Heracles of course could not be omitted,
and one poem was devoted to his faithful helper Iolaus. In individual features we
find a very close adherence to local tradition. A poem Orestas is a seeming
exception: its title and opening are preserved in a papyrus (nr. 161 P. 2 Page).
It describes the rising of the moon, but the last word refers to seven-gated
Thebes, and we can be confident that the theme was linked up to her native
soil, probably via the cult of Apollo.
In a fragment (2 D. 4 Page) the reading seemed to be that Corinna prided
* The length ofthe tradition behind such literary contests is shown by Sumero-Akkadian
examples in J. VAN DIJK, La Sagesse sumere-accadienne. Leyden 1953. Babylonian wrangles
between tamarisk and datepalm, cornel and poplar, barley and wheat, and between various
animals are referred to by G. LAMBERT, Babylonian Wisdom Literature. Oxf. 1960.
178
 THE ARCHATG PERTOD

herself on the beautiful yepota that she told to the women of Tanagra. The word
recurs as the title of one of Corinna’s works in Antoninus Liberalis 25; it was
interpreted as ‘old wives’ tales’, and Corinna was thought to be referring thus,
with a charming irony, to her own poems. But now comes a new papyrus
(Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, nr. 2370)! with the form Fepota, which must consequently
be restored in Antoninus. We do not know what the title means, but we are
better off than thinking that we did. In the new fragment Corinna speaks
proudly of her poems and of their success: she is inspired by Terpsichore, and
Tanagra is delighted with her.
A careful study of what remains has shown that Corinna’s language cannot
be taken as reflecting her native Boeotian. It contains elements obviously drawn
from the common stock of Greek poetical language. The Boeotian colouring
is nevertheless perceptible, particularly in spelling, which consistently uses a
phonetic system. Comparison with inscriptions shows that our text of Corinna
in its present form was written down between 225 and 175 B.c.
While we can form a fair idea of Corinna’s poetry, her dating poses a difficult
problem. She enjoyed some celebrity in the ancient world, she was added to the
Alexandrian canon of nine lyric poets, Ovid named after her the central figure
of his love-elegies: yet we have no reference to her before the first century B.c.
The great Alexandrian grammarians did not concern themselves with her, and
apparently it was one of their successors who first collected her poems into five
books.
This disquieting circumstance can be explained in two ways. It is conceivable
that Corinna wrote in or about Pindar’s time, but that her poems were for a
long time preserved only locally, until in late Hellenistic times her primitive
manner of narrative and the individuality of her language found admirers. The
alternative — seriously urged in recent years — is a radical one: to put her date
about 200 B.c. There are no absolute criteria available, and seeming parallels in
other poets give no certain results. Corinna’s metres are as simple as her
language: she uses stanzas of five or six verses made up of ionic or choriambic
dimeters. The latter are used in a comparable manner in the middle plays of
Euripides more than anywhere else, but no argument can be based on this fact:
both might have been building upon a popular metrical form.* If we decide to
date Corinna in the time of Pindar, it must be on rather inconclusive grounds.
Suidas names Corinna as a pupil of Myrtis, and says that she was victorious over
Pindar five times. The story turns up in various forms: Plutarch in particular
tells a charming tale of their rivalry (Glor. Ath. 4, 347). Corinna found fault with
Pindar for neglecting myths, which she said were the soul of poetry: when he
carried out her advice in good earnest, she told him he was sowing by the sackful.

1 Cf. C. GALLAVOTTI, Gnom. 29, 1957, 422; Boeotian poetry also appears in Pap. nr.
2371-2374, but it is doubtful whether it is by Corinna.
2 Reference in PAGE (v. inf.) 68. 1.
3 Euripides before Corinna? Material in PAGE 20. 5. Corinna before Antimachus of Colo-
phon? See B. wyss, Antimachi Coloph. reliquiae. Berl. 1955, praef. p. III.
4 Thus wiLAMowl!IT1zZ, Griech. Verskunst 227.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Pausanias, who saw Corinna’s monument and portrait in Tanagra (9, 22, 3)
knew of an alleged victory over Pindar, which he attributes to the ease and
intelligibility of her dialect and the beauty of her person. Now we know that
the ancient world was much addicted to anecdotes of this kind, and we must
not take Corinna’s contest with Pindar as an historical fact. But it is very hard
to suppose that this kind of story, at least partly developed in the time of
Plutarch and Pausanias, could easily have attached itself to a poetess who in fact
lived at the time of the Roman wars against the Macedonians, and could have
made her a contemporary of Pindar’s. Propertius’ phrase antiqua Corinna (233;
21) is not very precise, but it fits the early dating better than the late.
In the shrine of Aphrodite near the theatre at Argos Pausanias (2, 20, 8) saw a
stele with a representation of the poetess Telesilla. She was depicted having
just thrown her books aside, and putting a helmet on her head. The reputation
of Telesilla was indeed based on the widely recurring story that in a crucial hour
for Argos she had led the women of the city victoriously against the Spartans.
She lived in the first half of the fifth century. Of her poems all we can say is that
they were closely connected with divine worship. In the shrine of Asclepius at
Epidaurus stones have been found inscribed with various hymns to the gods
(IG 4/1, 129-134), one of which tells how the mother of the gods roams angrily
over mountain and valley, demanding her share in the kingdoms of the world.
The rather damaged verses exhibit a metre! which the Alexandrians later named
Telesillean after the poetess, and since we know that she wrote hymns to the
gods, it is quite likely that this is some of her work. Her style is very simple, more
unassuming even than Corinna’s: the only animation comes from the immediate
juxtaposition of statement and counter-statement. Her language, with a few
exceptions, is the common language of contemporary lyric. A papyrus (nr.
1163 P.) has a scholium on Theocritus 15, 64 (“Women know everything: they
even know how Zeus took Hera to wife’) which says that the verse alludes to
Telesilla. At all events we may credit her with a poem on the marriage of Zeus
and Hera.
It is in Boeotia and the Peloponnese, not in Athens, that women achieve a
lasting reputation for poetry. This reflects a freer social position of women than
that which we know from Athens. Corinth’s neighbour Sicyon had its Praxilla,
whom we may suppose to have been roughly contemporary with Telesilla. Her
personality eludes us: to make her into a hetaera would be rash. Her memory
was held in honour, and in the fourth century her countryman Lysippus cast a
statue of her in bronze. A verse (1 D.) from a dithyramb Achilles is attributed to
her. It is possible that Praxilla wrote dithyrambs of a narrative content; but it is
remarkable that the verse in question, in which someone blames Achilles for
hardness of heart, is a hexameter. Three hexameters are preserved from a poem
called Adonis (2 D.). Adonis, dead and in the underworld, is asked what he
reckons fairest of the things he has left behind: he says the sun and moon and
various different fruits. In antiquity this was taken as the expression of a remark-
able naiveté, and ‘simpler than Praxilla’s Adonis’ became a proverbial saying.
Pue-w-ou-.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

It is more likely that the proverb ridiculed Praxilla herself than that she was
representing Adonis as an idiot.! Of those Attic scolia which we mentioned
earlier Praxilla was given credit for Admetus’ advice to keep good company
and for the warning against scorpions that lurk under every stone (14 D.; 20 D.).
In this connection ‘drinking songs’ (apoiua) are mentioned: this probably
means no more than that some of her poems were found suitable for singing at
table.

Corinna: Anth. Lyr. 2nd ed., fasc. 4, 193. K. LATTE, ‘Die Lebenszeit der Korinna’.
Eranos $4, 1956, $7, goes into the question of the dating and of the werayapaxrn-
ptopds, and comes to the conclusion expressed here. p. L. PAGE, Corinna, Lond.
1953. Telesilla: Anth. Lyr. 2nd ed., fasc. 5, 72. P. MAAS, ‘Epidaurische Hymnen’.
Schr. d. Kénigsb. Gel. Ges., Geisteswiss. Kl. 9/5, 1933, 134. Praxilla: Anth. Lyr.
2nd ed., fasc. 5, 160. A Boeotian bowl, to be dated c. 450, has the beginning of
two verses (3 D.) in the metre called Praxillean after the poetess (Pp. JACOBS-
THAL, Gétting. Vasen 1912, T.22 nr. 81); but since the verses are not ascribed to
Praxilla by name, this is not a firm base for dating. Fragments of these poetesses
now in D. L. PAGE, Poetae Melici Graeci. Oxf. 1962.

Se CHORALVEYRIG

Ibycus represents a highly individual development within Greek choral lyric:

like Anacreon he follows a line that goes no further. His date is fixed by his
visit to the court of Polycrates, who was overthrown by the Persian invasion
of §22.
He hailed, like Stesichorus, from the Greek west, from Rhegium with its
mixed Chalcidian and Messenian settlers. His father’s name is variously related:
Phytius seems the most likely. Whether this was the same man whose legislative
activity was still remembered (Iambl. Vit. Pyth. 130. 172) we cannot tell. He
was probably of a distinguished family: so at least the story suggests which
tells us that he might have been tyrant in his native city. At all events he spent
his earlier years in his homeland, and he must naturally have been deeply
impressed by the art of Stesichorus. Ibycus, of whom we know desperately
little, is very different from the great Sicilian choral lyrist, but the few surviving
fragments allow us to posit an early period in which he imitated Stesichorus.
Many of them show references to myth, with a predilection for out-of-the-way
variants. He tells us of Menelaus that the sight of Helen’s beauty made him
drop the sword with which he was about to punish her infidelity; he refers to
a liaison between Achilles and Medea in Elysium; sometimes local elements
creep in, such as Heracles’ bathing in hot springs (which must be those of
Himera), but a great deal of course comes from the well-known myth-cycles.
It is in Ibycus that we find the first poetical allusion to Orpheus (17 D.)s not
perhaps surprising if we remember the importance of Orphism in southern
Italy. In all these particular instances we have no means of knowing whether
1 Cf. w. ALY, RE 22, 1764.
G2 181
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

they are passing references or full-length narration of myths, after the manner
of Stesichorus. The large number of names and themes speaks for the latter
possibility, and the report (2 D.) of the slaying of the sons of Moliona, Siamese
twins who had grown to maturity in a silver egg (the speaker is apparently
Heracles), can only have belonged in the context of a long mythical narrative.
In addition we find among later writers a great number of expressions and
themes ascribed to Stesichorus and Ibycus.! For the most part these are very
unusual features, unlikely to have occurred in both poets: the situation was
probably like that of the Games at the Funeral of Pelias, of which Athenaeus
(4, 172) could not say whether Ibycus or Stesichorus wrote it. This presupposes
poems of Ibycus’ which so closely resembled the choral narrative odes of
Stesichorus that there was room for this kind of doubt.
We may suspect that the great change in Ibycus’ life brought with it the great
change in his work. His road led to the court of Polycrates of Samos — the very
tyrant from whose grip Pythagoras had fled to southern Italy. In Samos Ibycus
must have met Anacreon at the height of his favour, but there is no report of
their mutual relations. Under Polycrates’ roof the poetry of Ibycus took that
strange turning towards erotically coloured choral lyric which seems to have
been determined by many factors. In this world of Ionian maturity men
already felt themselves more remote from the old mythology than the main-
landers did, among whom choral lyric was the successor to epic. Also choral
lyric must have felt the impact of Lesbian monody as the great vehicle of love-
poetry: in Alcman the chorus was already speaking the poet’s innermost
thoughts. But the decisive influence was the direction of Ibycus’ own interests:
the remains, wretched as they are, of his mythical narratives yet suffice to show
his predilection for the erotic.
What Ibycus wrote in Samos fixed his image for posterity. When Cicero
(Tusc. 4. 71) and Suidas speak of him as the poet of passionate love, both are
echoing the common verdict. His art is exemplified particularly in two frag-
ments. One (6 D.) speaks of the regular rhythm of the seasons, which in the
spring makes the young vine and the quince-tree bloom in the garden of the
nymphs. A violent change brings in the antithesis: there is no season in the poet’s
life in which Love falls asleep; Love lashes him mercilessly like a storm from the
Thracian north laden with thunderbolts. In the second fragment (7 D.), with
melting glances from beneath his dark brows Eros lures the poet towards
Aphrodite’s net. But he shies away from the approaching god like a racehorse
who has won many races, but now, old and weary, shrinks from new contests.
In both poems a conception is embodied which was widespread among the
Greeks: Love comes to man as a dangerous and maddening power, stealing
away his very self; grief is of its essence. In both we hear the poet in old age —
for so we are to interpret the complaint against the god who spares no season
of human life.
‘The sorrows of love had been Sappho’s theme also: the difference between
her verses and those of Ibycus is that between the Lesbian monody with its
" RAGE (v. sup.), 167.
182
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

force and immediacy and the heavy opulence of choral lyric. This elaboration,
showing itself most in the number of the adjectives, is not there to trick out the
inner emptiness of the poetry. Rather it appears in these verses as the appropriate
expression of a great passion holding sway over all mankind.
It is difficult to reconcile what we know so far of Ibycus’ poetry with the
evidence of a longer passage preserved on papyrus (nr. 967 P.). Four triads are
discernible, and if this is really the work of Ibycus, then this is the first example
known of the species of composition in which strophe and antistrophe are
followed by an epode. Suidas ascribes the ‘invention’ to Stesichorus.
The end of the poem is preserved, and enough of its beginning to make it
impossible for any new discovery to alter the general picture. Down to the
last triad the poet enumerates persons and events of the Trojan war merely to
assure us that he will not sing of them. This sounds like a rejection of narrative
heroic poetry, either as formerly attempted by Ibycus, or as he saw it attempted
by others. The narration of such stories is the task of the learned (cecoguopévar)
Muses of Helicon; no mortal can aspire to it. Then, after the greatest of the
heroes, he mentions the most beautiful — an otherwise unknown son of Hyllis
and, outshining all others as gold does brass, Priam’s son Troilus. In three lines
comes the ultimate point: “You, Polycrates, will share with these the imperish-
able fame of beauty, just as my fame is immortal in song.’
This long enumeration that makes up most of the surviving verses is in its
composition and linguistic expression alike unsatisfactory, and it is in striking
contrast to the ending so hastily clapped on to it. There is not a spark of that
emotional colouring that imparted such a sombre splendour to the other two
fragments. Either this poem (which does not bear any author’s name) is not by
Ibycus, but by a later poet trying to plough with his team, or Ibycus dashed it
off hastily and without any real feeling as an occasional piece. In any case it is
apparent that we have here a piece of courtly flattery addressed to a handsome
and well-born youth, not (as in the previous fragments) the expression of an all-
consuming passion for an attractive boy. If in the face of all these arguments we
still decide for Ibycus, the mention of Polycrates is the reason. It is not, of course,
the tyrant who is referred to: an excerpt from Himerius,' who lived in the
fourth century of our era and both read more and knew more of the lyric poets
than we can, puts our poem into its proper setting. The tyrant had a son of the
same name, who lived in Rhodes as his lieutenant, just as Periander of Corinth
sent his son to Corcyra. This younger Polycrates was a lover of the arts, and his
father gave him Anacreon as a tutor. It is to him then that we must suppose
Ibycus’ flattery to be addressed.
An argument not very strong in itself, but fitting well with the others, is the
agreement on dialect between this poem and the rest of the fragments. As with
Stesichorus, so with Ibycus it has been thought that the mixture of different
elements in his language reflects the dialectal situation of acolony made up of
different peoples. But such features as the omission of the syllabic augment or
the use of the digamma according to metrical exigencies point rather to a
1 Herm. 46, 1911, 422.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

literary dialect strongly influenced by epic, with a thin veneer of Doric and an
occasional Aeolic form.
If it is Polycrates’ son who receives this tribute with its mythological adorn-
ments — just as Ibycus is said (schol. ad Apoll. Rhod. 3, 158) to have compli-
mented one Gordias with references to the rape of Ganymede — this goes very
well with Eusebius’ dating of Ibycus’ floruit in the 6rst Olympiad (536/33): the
tyrant would have been his contemporary.’ We do not know whether the poet
survived the overthrow of his patron (c. 522). His death was embellished with
legend. The well-known story of the cranes which led to the detection of his
murderers is dismissed by Iamblichus (Vit. Pyth. 126) as a story told of many
different people.
In the mature archaic period choral lyric was an important force in education.
It might certainly be largely dependent on the favour of ambitious rulers;
sometimes, as with Ibycus, it might renounce a wider effectiveness for the sake
of intimacy: but where it was an adornment of divine festivals and of the
supreme hours of human life, it could not fail to have such repercussions. We
may consider choral lyric as holding an important place in Greek cultural life
between epic and tragedy. It spoke indeed with many voices, and it is fascinating
to compare the figure of Simonides — individual, many-sided and often antici-
pating later developments — with that of Euripides. In the Ionian world Ana-
creon and Ibycus achieve a peculiar sweetness that allowed of no further
development. But Simonides shows a wholly different side of the Ionian spirit
of his time: he sows a vigorous seed which is to bring forth an abundant harvest
both in the mainland and in the Greek-speaking west.
Simonides was born about 556 on the island of Ceos, the nearest of the
Cyclades to Attica: according to Herodotus (8. 46) it had an Ionian population,
coming largely from Athens. The island set its face against the luxury of Ionian
Asia Minor, and had the reputation of being without any prostitutes or flute-
girls. Simonides, whose art has a strong simplicity that gives it a special place in
choral lyric, grew up in a society that banished all luxury from its confines.?
Athenaeus (456c ff.) has preserved two riddles in hexameters, couched in
language of oracular obscurity. The rather complex circumstances to which
they seem to allude may or may not be rightly interpreted in the explanations
offered by the Peripatetic Chamaeleon, whose biographical reports are as
numerous as they are untrustworthy. But, as related by Athenaeus, the first
referred to Simonides as a young man, the second to his activity as chorus-
master at the temple of Apollo at Carthaea, one of the main centres of the island.
If so, this would agree with the supposition that he began with performances of
this kind, and came to write choral lyrics himself through his experience in
rehearsing the songs for the sacred festivals of his country.
Once established as a poet, he led a wandering life, which took him through
many parts of Greece, and in particular to the tables of the great. Pisistratus’ son
Hipparchus is said to have induced him with expensive presents to come to
Athens. It was commonly said of Simonides that he was a good business man,
* Suidas says the 54th Olympiad (564/1). 2 Syll. Inscr. Graec. 1218.
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and knew how to coin his talent into gold. After the fall of the Pisistratids he
went to their friends in Thessaly, where Anacreon also may have lived for a
time. He had particularly close relations with the house of Scopas, and we will
hear of poems attesting this friendship. During the Persian wars he lived in
Athens again, and took part through his poetry in the events of those years.
We may suppose that he was close to the leading men and there may be some
truth in the story which associates him with Themistocles. The latter had
incurred the bitter animosity of the poet Timocreon from Ialysus in Rhodes
through refusing to forward his return from exile. We have some remains of
poems (probably scolia) in which Timocreon fiercely attacks Themistocles.
Under the name of Simonides we find an epigram (99 D.) purporting to be the
epitaph of the toper, glutton and scandal-monger Timocreon. But he outlived
Simonides: consequently the epigram, if it is genuine, can only be interpreted
as a malicious joke. It would, however, be a valuable indication of the poet’s
readiness to attack Themistocles’ enemies on his behalf. But since this account of
Timocreon’s slanderous character does not occur before the imperial period, the
ascription to Simonides must remain as doubtful here as in numerous other cases.
At the age of eighty, in 476, Simonides trained a chorus of men which won
the prize: so much he says in one of his own epigrams (77 D.). Shortly after-
wards we find him at the court of Hiero in Syracuse. On his first arrival he
reconciled Hiero with Theron of Acragas, when they had already decided on
war. This would not have been his least recommendation at court. The rela-
tions of the despot and the poet were adorned by the inventions of later ages: an
illustration is the Hiero of Xenophon. Simonides brought his nephew Bacchy-
lides to Sicily, and doubtless he himself met Pindar there. There could not but
be rivalry between them: we shall see its reflection in Pindar’s work. In 468
Simonides died, certainly in Sicily, probably at Acragas.
Among the poems of Simonides there were some intended for religious use
— Suidas speaks of Paeans. But the information on them is so scanty and un-
certain, that we can consider such hymns as forming an insignificant part of his
output. His reputation was won on other fields. The victors in great athletic
contests had certainly from time immemorial been wildly acclaimed and
variously honoured on their homecoming, and inevitably songs must have been
improvised at such times. But there is no example before Simonides of a chorus
singing a prepared song written especially for the occasion by a considerable
poet, and we may assume that it was he who first laid hold of this new field for
choral lyric as an art-form. This step led the way to an unparallelled connection
between sport and art in Greek life. The great games were in themselves human
events of a kind which we can scarcely appreciate nowadays, despite the revived
Olympic Games. We must consider that in this instance the primitiveness of
their technique was a singular blessing to the Greeks. They had no mechanical
means of timing the best performances and thus readily comparing them.
Consequently in their sports meetings it was not a question of beating records
previously established; the attention of a whole nation was not riveted upon a
few outstanding performances. Rather the object at every meeting was there
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and then to strive for the goal which young men found defined in Homer:
always to be the first and to be distinguished beyond others. This kind of com-
petitive spirit bound the athletes and the spectators together, making them
share one common excitement. The great importance of these games in foster-
ing a Greek national consciousness, which was denied a regular political embodi-
ment, has been often and rightly stressed.! When the choral lyric, in the form of
the Epinicion, brought athletic events into the sphere of high poetry, it did this
in a very remarkable way. We never find the technical details of the contest
occupying the foreground: it is sketched often with the very lightest touches as
part of a world that is basically of the spirit, that feeds upon the traditional
myth, and puts everything into a living connection with the basic problems of
human existence. This attitude explains the frequency of gnomae, or maxims of
general validity, in the epinicia. But since we are still in the world of archaic art,
we shall find the various elements connected not by some readily perceived
principle of articulation, but strung together very often by mental associations
of one kind or another.
Pindar gives us abundant opportunity to study the particular charm of this
kind of composition: the fragments of Simonides’ victory odes are not sufficient
to give us a clear picture. The small remains do, however, show that he differed
greatly from Pindar. In the early period of his poetry he wrote an Epinicion for
Glaucus of Carystus, who won the boys’ boxing contest at Olympia in 520. A
fragment of it (23 D.) declares that not even Pollux, the great boxer of mytho-
logy, nor the iron-fisted Heracles himself could have stood against Glaucus. If
this is to be taken seriously, it betokens a considerable change of religious feeling,
since in the old days such praise of a mortal over the sons of gods would have
been reckoned blasphemy. But it is after all only a boy who has won, and there
is no difficulty in taking the words in a joking sense, particularly since Simonides
begins another epinicion in a like spirit. He tells us (22 D.) that the wrestler
Crios was ‘regularly shorn’ when he came to the Nemea. Since the name
means ‘ram’, there is obviously a pun, although it is hard to explain it. The
attempt to make it allude to the wrestler’s crew cut is best forgotten; many have
thought that it referred to the severity of the contest which the victor had to
endure; but it is simplest to think of the defeated contestant as the one who was
violently shorn.? This Crios was an Aeginetan, probably the same mentioned
by Herodotus (6, 50. 73): after the first Persian attack had been repulsed, the
Spartans deported him to Athens in the course of reprisals against Aegina.
Herodotus also has a pun on the man’s name. If we are right in supposing him
to have been the loser at the Nemea, then the joke about his shearing is appro-
priate to Simonides’ political position on the side of the Athenians. Scanty as
the fragments of these epinicia are, they show elements quite irreconcilable
with the heavy seriousness of Pindar’s victory odes.
' Cf. now BR. BILINSKI, L’ agonistica sportiva nella Grecia antica. Aspetti sociali e ispirazioni
letterarie. Accademia Polacca. Biblioteca di Roma. Conferenze Fasc. 12. Rome 1960. JULIUS
JOTTNER’s posthumous work on Greek sport and gymnastics is to be published by the
Austrian Academy of Sciences. 2 PAGE (v. sup.), 140. H. FRANKEL 495. 20.
186
 THR ARCHAIC PERIOD
The Alexandrians classified Simonides’ epinicia, unlike Pindar’s, not according
to the place, but to the nature of the contest. We have on a papyrus (1139 P.)
some miserably mutilated remains of those on victories in the foot-race.
Among the new papyri, Oxyrh.' 2431 fr. 1 a has the opening of an epinicion,
probably by Simonides. It refers to the sons of one Aeatius, members of a
noble Thessalian family, who had won a foot-race.
If our surmise is right, Simonides established choral lyric in many other
departments of human life. Laments for the dead and consolations in bereave-
ment, such as Archilochus expressed in his elegy to Pericles after a disaster at
sea, found a new form in the choral threnos of Simonides. The development
parallels the one by which themes of Lesbian monody were taken over into the
choral lyric of Ibycus.
The Threnoi also have survived only in a few small fragments. We know the
strange and horrifying circumstance which gave rise to one of them. At a
banquet of the Scopads the house collapsed and buried the assembled members
of the clan. The poet begins his lament by touching on the uncanny speed with
which human fortunes change. The idea is often enough expressed elsewhere,
but the image that Simonides uses is unique, and is effective through its very
lowness, which at first is repellent: as quickly as a fly buzzes from one spot to
another, so quickly are human fortunes reversed.
This catastrophe can be seen as the starting-point of a widely diffused legend.
In an epinicion celebrating a boxer’s victory Simonides is said to have devoted
a great deal of space to the Dioscuri. (We might indeed expect that myth
would play a considerable part in the epinicia.) The recipient of the ode there-
upon told him to apply for his payment to the gods who had been his main
theme. At the banquet two young men called the poet outside, and then
disappeared. The house fell and buried all the others. Thus the gods showed
their gratitude. The variations in the name of the victor and the place of the
event, as they are conscientiously reported by Quintilian (11, 2, 14), show
clearly enough the character of the story.
Some verses (7 D.) specifically assigned to the Threnoi convey the unhappy
truth that not even the sons of gods are granted a life free from care and muta-
bility. The words contain the seed of that tragic conception of Heracles which
reaches maturity in Euripides.
The theme of the transitoriness of all that is earthly is often found in Greek
lyric, but it is nowhere expressed so uncompromisingly as in the fragment
(8 D.) which speaks of the deadly Charybdis as being the one and final end of
all in this world: courage and virtue no less than riches come to her at last.
Survival in reputation, to which the poet elsewhere attaches great value, is here
forgotten. With a gloomy pessimism he speaks in another fragment (59 D.) of
posthumous fame as being the last to sink into the grave: that also is transitory,
he well knows. And what indeed could be exempt from mortality? Was there
not an inscription on a grave, boasting that its statue of bronze would not pass
away while nature’s forces were still at work (Anth. Pal. 7. 153)? The words
! On these see the appendix to this section.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

were even ascribed to Cleobulus of Lindus, one of the Seven Sages. Simonides
of a
does not mince words: it is pure folly, he says, to compare the duration
bronze statue with that of the forces of nature (48 D.).
If we assign to the Threnoi of Simonides the remains of thirty lines of choral
lyric on a papyrus (1138 P.), to which Bacchylides also lays claim, it must be
because the Threnoi and Epinicia seem to have been the only parts of his work
that were later read. If the attribution is right, then the Threnoi will appear to
have had separate titles, like the dithyrambs of Bacchylides; for we find Leucip-
pides written over the opening words of a new poem. But it is all very
uncertain.
In celebrating the memory of those fallen at Thermopylae, Simonides
strikingly united the threnos with the encomion, or rather the lament into a song
of praise (5 D.). Their lot is glorious, their destiny noble, their grave 1s the
altar, instead of wailing they have remembrance, for pity, praise. This sequence
of contrasted pairs, in which one component first differentiates and then replaces
the other, has been taken by some as showing the beginnings of sophistic
thought and style.! The point is valid, but it must be remembered that these
words — which for all their art are extremely simple — attest a very real respect
for the magnitude of the sacrifice. The complaint of the fleetingness of life is
here suppressed, with some inconsistency: decay and all-conquering time can
have no power over this monument.
The poem beautifully illustrates Simonides’ participation, through his poetry,
in the great struggle for freedom. In the ancient biography of Aeschylus we read
that the great tragedian wrote an elegiac epitaph on the dead of Marathon, but
was judged inferior to Simonides since he lacked ‘tenderness of sympathy’.
The words go to the heart of Simonides’ poetry. The attribution to him of two
epigrams in an inscription in the Athenian agora (88 AB D.) is very question-
able. He devoted a poem to the sea-fight at Artemisium: the few surviving
words (1. 2 D.) suggest that it was a choral lyric. At the promontory the north
wind had done great damage to the Persian fleet, and it is an attractive suggestion
that? Simonides’ ode on Artemisium was sung at the dedication of a temple
which the Athenians erected to Boreas shortly after 479. The day of Salamis
also furnished him with a subject for an ode (83 Bergk: 536 Page).
It was his epigrams that won Simonides a particular reputation, and in conse-
quence many were falsely attributed to him. He marks an important stage in
the development of the epigram to a perfect work of art in miniature. During
the Persian wars there were certainly many great events to be celebrated or
lamented. It is a pity that the only epigram which we can confidently attribute
to him is the epitaph (83 D.) on his friend Megistias, who fell at Thermopylae.
Even that most famous of all Greek epigrams, ‘Tell them at Sparta...”
cannot
any longer be considered his.
At the tables of tyrants Simonides had to sing for his supper: he compose
d
drinking-songs. One of them (4 D.) is quoted by Plato and interpreted in a
* WILAMOWITZ, Pindaros. Berl. 1922, 458.
* WILAMOWITZ, Sappho und Simonides. Berl. 1913, 206.
188
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

very Platonic manner.! Setting this aside, we must consider what the poet in
fact meant in this scolion addressed to Scopas. He starts with the saying of
Pittacus of Mytilene, that it is difficult to become a truly perfect man. This is
very true, but it does not go far enough: God alone enjoys such well-being;
a man may be stripped of his worth by a mischance against which there is no
help or resource (au7jyavos). So we ought to set a more modest target, and praise
a man who does not evil of his own free will. Everything which has no ad-
mixture of ugliness is beautiful. In his interpretation of the poem Hermann
Frankel has shown that the old connection between outward success (v. 10
mpagas ed) and inward qualities is here given up, and with a humane toleration
a goal is proposed that is accessible to honest endeavour. This scolion is partly
parallelled by the poem of which 21 mostly legible verses are now known from
Ox. Pap. nr. 2432.* Here also we find the same moderation and mild scepticism
towards the moral capacities of mankind. Another noteworthy feature of the
poem is that we find here for the first time a notion that was later very impor-
tant in Greek ethical doctrines: the Bios diAoypyjartos, the drAjdovos, and the
ptAdtysos appear as forces inimical to practical morality.
We have seen Simonides as the master of various forms of poetry. We must,
however, confess that a considerable part of his work is quite beyond our
knowledge. Towards the end of his activity in Athens, he boasts in an epigram
(79 D.) intended for a votive tablet, that he had gained sixty-five victories with
male choruses. In other words, he had composed dithyrambs to compete in the
Dionysia. The discoveries of Bacchylides’ poems have given us some notion
what these narrative choral lyrics were like. A passage of Aristophanes (Vesp.
1410) lets us infer that in this field he would have come into conflict with Lasus,
the reformer of the dithyramb. But only some unexpected discovery could take
our knowledge further. We are rather perplexed by the statement in Suidas that
Simonides also wrote tragedies. He was an older contemporary of Aeschylus,
so how can the possibility be excluded? But since the dithyramb often contained
elements of dialogue, as those of Bacchylides show, the statement is more likely
to refer to his dithyrambic poetry. We shall find a similar tradition concerning
Pindar.
Simonides gives clear expression to certain sides of the Ionian character, and
looks forward in many ways to the sophistic movement, which in the next
generation revolutionized the spiritual life of Athens. The prominence of the
human element in his choral poetry is one of these features. In the scolion for
Scopas and the protest against Cleobulus we detect a penchant towards a
critical approach which sets up the results of individual reasoning against
traditional ideas. Cicero’s anecdote of him (De nat. deor. 1. 60) is characteristic:
questioned by Hiero about the nature of the gods, he asked for longer and
longer periods to consider his answer; at last he said that the question became
the more obscure the more he thought about it. The closest parallel is in the
! H, GUNDERT, ‘Die Simonides-Interpretation in Platons Protagoras’. Festschr. O. Regen-
bogen. Heidelb. 1952, 71.
2 See M. TREU, ‘Neues zu Simonides (P. Ox. 2432)’. Rhein. Mus. 103, 1960, 319.
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words of Protagoras (VS 80 B4), that the difficulty of the subject and the
shortness of human life prevents us from knowing anything about the gods. In
his scheme of values, so far as we know it, he expressed a realistic sense of the
immediate actuality of life. There are a few details to fill in. His powers of
memory were renowned, and he is said to have devised a system of training the
memory! — a faculty on which Hippias of Elis so prided himself. What truth
there may be in the report that he interested himself in various matters of ortho-
graphy, we do not know: even this, however, is consonant with a reforming
spirit. His abilities in practical life also rank him with several of the great sophists
These traits in Simonides cannot be overlooked, but it would be wrong to
assess him mainly on the rational element in his creative work. He was an artist
who knew how to create out of the power of genuine feeling, and to move his
hearers by so doing. The most impressive example cf his art is the ‘Danae
fragment’ (13 D.). We do not know its context, but it can stand by itself as a
great piece of poetry. Locked up in the wooden chest, mother and child are
tossed on the stormy sea. Danae pours out the sorrows of her heart. Her wild
grief finds its echo in the roaring of the waves, and the sweet slumbers of the
innocent child? are in striking contrast to the uproar all around. She prays that
Zeus, the first cause of all her sorrows, will change her fortunes, and ends by
asking forgiveness if there is any impropriety in her request. The myth here 1s
merely an occasion for depicting human emotion with the utmost force and
pathos.
The simple language of this passage, its clear word-order and the consistently
meaningful choice of epithets helps us to understand the judgment of Dionysius
of Halicarnassus (de imit. 2, 2, 6) — that Simonides excelled even Pindar in the
expression of sorrow through his use not of grandiose words, but of words
going right to the heart.
Another indication of Simonides’ lively critical faculties is that he reflected
on the whole basis of his creative work, and came to a conclusion that expresses
one of the main characteristics of his own poetry: painting is silent poetry;
poetry is spoken painting (Plut. de glor. Ath. 3). The dictum has had its effects
in modern times, and the element of misconception in it has found its critics.
But to Simonides this statement of the relation between poetry and painting
expressed something essential. It is well illustrated by the Danae fragment, and
we greatly regret that another celebrated example of his graphic presentation
has perished: namely the scene in which Achilles appears before the Greeks
when they have already decided to return home ~ a passage which is singled out
for praise on this score by the author of the treatise [Tept tibous.
Pindar is the second of Bocotia’s great poets. As a literary artist he represents
a different tradition from Hesiod’s, and he comes from a very different social
level. Nevertheless, in those passages where his native qualities come out most
strongly, we can see his affinity with the author of the Theogon y. Both have the
" On memory-training in antiquity see w. scHMID, Lit. Gesch. 1, 521, 12.
* The text of v. 11 is uncertain and cannot support the notion that the child shines in
the dark by his own light: see now b. 1. PAGE, Poetae Melici Graeci. Oxf. 1962, nr. 543.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

same religious attitude towards all phenomena, the same uncompromising

severity in their assertions.
He was born at Cynoscephalae, a settlement belonging to Thebes, during the
Pythian festival, as the great venerator of the Delphic god tells us himself (fr.
193). The festival must have been that of 522 or of 518, since his floruit, i.e. his
fortieth year, was reckoned in antiquity as coinciding with Xerxes’ attack on
Greece.
We possess four manuscript Lives, in addition to the article in Suidas. These
are all either late antique or Byzantine, but they continue a teaching tradition
that goes back to the earliest attested biographies of Pindar, compiled by the
Peripatetic Chamaeleon and by Callimachus’s pupil Ister. As so often, we find
here a little that is useful wrapped up in a mass of fable, including such a pretty
anecdote as that of the bees which prophetically deposited their honey on the
lips of the slumbering child.
The difficulties of interpreting Pindar are exemplified in the question of his
birthplace. In Pyth. 5, 76 he speaks of the Aegeids, a clan associated in myth-
ology with Thebes and with Sparta and Therae: ‘my fathers’, he calls them.
This raises the problem of the use of the first person in choral lyric: sometimes
in Pindar it means the poet, sometimes the chorus, sometimes the generalized
‘one’. In this passage the most distinguished exponents of Pindar have embraced
directly opposed views.! To take it as meaning the chorus seems the most likely,
but it is quite conceivable that Pindar as a Theban might have named the
Aegeids as his ancestors. The passage certainly cannot be taken as proving his
aristocratic connections, and the various names given for Pindar’s father in the
ancient biographies make the whole question very obscure.”
We can certainly believe that he came of a good family, and if he was sent
to Athens as a boy, in addition to education in the arts he would have made
contact with the old Attic nobility. Their position had been threatened for some
time by the rise of new classes, but power was still largely in their hands, and
aristocratic values were still in possession of the field. Even in the classical period
these values remained largely current: indeed they never wholly faded from
Greek consciousness. A stay in Athens in his youth would explain Pindar’s close
connection with the Alcmeonids, a family whose political activities were
important rather than uniformly beneficial in Athenian history. The only
epinicion which Pindar wrote for an Athenian (Pyth. 7 in 486) was for the
Alcmeonid Megacles, who had been ostracized a little before. According to a
scholium on v. 18 he composed a threnos for Megacles’ father Hippocrates, a
brother of Cleisthenes. Four years after Marathon the poet praised Athens, not
for the defeat of the Persians, but for the magnificence with which the temple of
Apollo at Delphi, burnt down in 548, had been rebuilt by the Alcmeonids.

1 Bibliography in sCcHWENN, RE 20, 1950, 1614, 24.

2 The new papyrus Ox. Pap. 26, 1961, nr. 2438 with the remains of a life of Pindar tells
us that a lively controversy raged about the name of his father: Corinna (an important
witness) says it was Scopelinus, while xara rods wAelorovs mourds it was Daiphantus. In
another tradition it occurs as Pagondas or Pagonidas.
1gt
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The biographies speak of Apollodorus and Agathocles as instructors of the

young Pindar. Only the second of these names has much meaning for us, since
Agathocles also trained the musical theorist Damon. A more important fact is
that the men’s choruses in Athens had a new and vigorous development after
508 as an officially recognized part of the Great Dionysia. It was thanks to the
reformation of the dithyramb by Lasus of Hermione that it was able to maintain
its place beside the rapidly maturing tragedy. Now since we can hardly suppose
that Lasus was in Athens after the fall of the Pisistratids, the tradition that he
was Pindar’s teacher cannot be true in an immediate sense. The same holds
good of Simonides, who despite the deep differences between the two men
cannot have been without influence on the young Pindar.
Pindar’s poetry brought him into contact with many of the political and
cultural centres of his day, and in the course of his work he travelled widely.
But unlike so many wandering poets of the archaic period, he remained always
true to his native land. In his Paean for Ceos (32) he speaks of the value to a man
of his homeland and kinsfolk, and the words apply to his own life also.
The earliest of the surviving epinicia, Pyth. 10, shows Pindar associated with
Thessaly, whose noble families had enjoyed the services of many of the older
poets. In the Pythia of 498 the double foot-race for boys was won by Hippocleas
of Pelinna, and Thorax, the oldest of the great family of the Aleuads, com-
missioned Pindar to write an ode in celebration. The young poet, who was a
guest-friend of Thorax and probably came in person to the performance, might
have built great hopes for the future on this commission. We know nothing,
however, of any continuance of their relations. In general Pindar does not seem
to have had any sudden success. It was not until he went to Sicily that he made
his name.
In his early period Pindar seems to have written mostly songs for religious
usage, and since these have perished except for a frew fagments, we know very
little about his work at that time. Some papyri, however, (nr. 1069-1071 P.)
have acquainted us with bits of his Paeans, in particular of the one which he had
performed at the Theoxenia in Delphi (probably in 490), no other chorus
being at his disposal. It is only a surmise that the singers were Aeginetans, but
certainly Pindar here sings the praises of that island, which meant so much to
him all through his life. Aegina, which like Boeotia had a mixed Dorian and
Aeolic population, was at this time a dangerous rival to Athens and politically
connected with Thebes. Power lay in the hands of an aristocratic upper-crust
made up of wealthy and sport-loving families. This was the true world of the
Pindaric epinicia. In this paean, despite all his flattery of the Aeginetans, Pindar
wounded their feelings. Of Neoptolemus, a descendant of their national hero
Aeacus, he related how for his cruel killing of the aged Priam he was punished
by Apollo, who made him die a miserable death at Delphi. A few years later,
in the Seventh Nemean, celebrating the victory of Sogenes of Aegina in the
boys’ pentathlon, Pindar included a retraction, and dwelt at length on the
honour enjoyed by Neoptolemus in the Delphic sanctuary. But his relations
with Aegina, which became so close later, seem not to be much in evidence
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 DHE ARCHAIC PERIOD

before the Persian wars. There is, however, another connection, later to be very
important, which is attested in 490: Xenocrates, brother of the tyrant Theron of
Acragas, had won a chariot-race at Delphi, and the Sixth Pythian celebrates his
son Thrasybulus, who had come from Sicily to compete. At this time Pindar
had won some recogition as a poet, but he could not afford to be too particular,
and so in the Twelfth Pythian, the only ode on a victory in music, he celebrated
the flute-player Midas of Acragas, who had probably come with Thrasybulus
to Delphi.
Pindar and his city played a rather special part in the time of mortal danger
when Xerxes attacked Greece.! The Thebans had ‘Medized’, and were threat-
ened with annihilation by the victorious Greeks. The danger was averted by
delivering up the most prominent pro-Persians: a god graciously moved aside
the stone of Tantalus which had been poised above the city. This image is used
by Pindar in the Eighth Isthmian: it is relevant that the ode celebrated the victory
of an Aeginetan in the pancration. We can hardly doubt Pindar’s connections
with the pro-Persian nobility in Thebes. Even at the very height of his fame he
repeatedly wrote in praise of members of the families who had been associated
with the Persians (Isthm. 1. 3. 4).? But in the years following the Greek victory
his political mistakes were a heavy burden on him, and from Aegina’s special
position we can understand why it was there that Pindar looked for support
and encouragement. He found it particularly in Lampon, whose son he had
celebrated in the Sixth Isthmian, shortly before the great war.
It was his success in Sicily that determined Pindar’s pan-Hellenic reputation.
There in the west, after the successful repulse of the Carthaginian threat, the
Greek world had developed under the leadership of capable tyrants into a
political structure far beyond the small dimensions of the old city-states. The
first place was taken by Hiero, who in 478, as regent of the twin state of Gela-
Syracuse, had stepped into the inheritance of Gelo. In Acragas was his kinsman
Theron, with whom his political relations were not always friendly. We have
heard of the reception of Simonides: Pindar formed a close association with both
courts. Despite the absence of immediate testimony, we can fairly certainly
infer that he arrived in Sicily between 476 and 474, and lived a long time at the
courts of Hiero and Theron. The multitude of new impressions that he received
from the power and brilliance of this west Greek world is reflected in verses
like those of the First Olympian celebrating Hiero’s victory in 476. This was a
victory in the horse-race: the more coveted victory in the chariot-race had
fallen to Theron. For him also Pindar wrote an epinicion which was sung in
Acragas at a great religious feast (Ol. 3). The same victory is alluded to in the
Second Olympian in a very different, intimate and personal tone. The ode is
not so much concerned with the event itself as it is to console Theron in sickness
and cares. Apparently Theron was a follower of Orphic and Pythagorean
doctrines, which provide Pindar with themes of consolation. We can easily
understand that the mystical teachings concerning the destiny of the soul made
I JOHN H. FINLEY JR., ‘Pindar and the Persian Invasion’. Harv. Stud. 63, 1958, 121.
2 WILAMOWITZ (v. inf.), 331. 337:
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a great impression on the poet: his strong Delphic background makes it unlikely
that he was himself an initiate.
The two Ceans, Simonides and Bacchylides, must have crossed Pindar’s path
in Sicily. Many passages have been taken as polemic against them: thus the
ancients interpreted the attack in Ol. 2. 86 upon the * journeymen’ who are like
ravens croaking at an eagle. Other examples are the warning against flatterers
and calumniators (Pyth. 2. 74) and the attack on those who serve the muses with
individual passages, but it
an eye to profit (Isth. 2. 6). The view may be true of
is impossible to be sure of them all. Simonides and Bacchylides were certainly
not the only ones who courted the Sicilian despots.
At the time of his return from Sicily Pindar could claim the first place among
the choral lyrists of his day, and he had no doubt profited as much in pocket as
in reputation from his stay in the west. Thence came the resource which enabled
him to build near his house that temple of Rhea and Pan which was still there
in Pausanias’ time (9, 25, 3). We still possess remains of a song for a chorus of
girls in honour of Pan, who was associated with the Great Mother as a com-
panion and doorkeeper (fr. 95 ff.).
There followed a particularly creative period, in which the poet’s services
were sought from all quarters of Greece. His connection with the Sicilian
courts was kept up for some time. The two odes already mentioned (Pyth. 2 and
Isthm. 2) show the poet’s fear that enemies were at work against him in Sicily
and in fact he was not able to celebrate either Hiero’s second victory in the horse-
race in 472 or the coveted victory in the Olympic chariot-race in 468. The latter
commission was given to Bacchylides. The ode on the victory in the Pythian
chariot-race of 470 was Pindar’s last poem for Hiero (Pyth. 1.) The tyrant had
had himself proclaimed at Delphi as the founder of Aetna, and thus had shown
how much importance he attached to the new settlement under the rule of his
son Dinomenes. Aeschylus wrote a play to celebrate the founding, and Pindar’s
ode is full of prayers for its success.
Now at the height of his career, Pindar could not close his eyes to the great-
ness of Athens in her confident development following the victory over the
Persians. In the late 460’s he published the dithyramb whose opening is so well
known (fr. 76): “Shining, violet-garlanded, song-renowned, glorious Athens,
bulwark of Hellas, city of the gods!’ Another passage (fr. 77) declares that the
Athenians have laid the foundations of freedom. Ancient tradition relates that
the Thebans fined the poet a thousand drachmae for thus praising the enemy
city, while the Athenians made him a proxenos and gave him a large honorarium.
There may be an element of truth in this, but the statue of Pindar in the Athenian
agora (Pseudo-Aeschines ep. 4; Paus. 1, 8, 4) was not brought into the story
until later.
Pindar was now constantly making new friends. Among the victorious
athletes who wanted to secure a monument of their achievement in his poetry
were Rhodians (Ol. 7) and Corinthians. The Xenophon who won the foot-race
and pentathlon in 464, a member of a rich and distinguished Corinthian family
was not content with an epinicion (Ol. 13), and wanted a poem to glorify his
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ostentatious gift to Aphrodite. The temple of the goddess in Corinth was

associated with ritual prostitution — itself a very unusual feature in Greek life -
and for this purpose Xenophon gave fifty female slaves. Pindar can never have
had a more singular assignment. He discharged it in a poem which is entitled
XxéAov in the manuscripts, writing with an elegant superiority and delicate
humour.
Hiero died in 466, and with his death the hour had struck for the Sicilian
tyrants. Pindar, however, soon found the way open to another prince’s court.
In 474 he had celebrated the victory in the chariot-race of Telesicrates of Cyrene,
the most flourishing Greek city in Libya; twelve years later king Arcesilaus IV
won with his chariot at Delphi, and the event called forth two poems from
Pindar. One (Pyth. 5) was intended for performance in Cyrene at the feast of
the Dorian Apollo Carneius in celebration of the victory; the other (Pyth. 4),
the longest of all extant choral lyrics, was sung at a feast in the palace. The
victory is hardly mentioned, but the story how Battus came to found the city
from Therae leads Pindar to relate at great length the tale of the Argonauts in
the manner of choral lyric. At the end of this long ode Pindar sides with the
exiled conspirator Damophilus and makes a plea for wise moderation. Such
interference is seldom welcome: when Arcesilaus won the chariot-race at
Olympia two years later, Pindar received no commission.
In all these vicissitudes friendship with Aegina remained a sure and permanent
possession. Again and again Pindar had Aeginetan victors to celebrate, and the
last word that we have from him (Pyth. 8 in 446) refers to the beloved island.
In the concluding section of the ode we find one of those gloomy reflections
which often darken the sunlight of Greek thought: “What is man? The dream
of a shadow; no more. But God can send his light upon all the weaknesses
of our life, and the heavenly ones can keep the city on the path of free-
dom.’ Freedom Aegina had partly lost already, when in 456 she was forced
into the Athenian maritime alliance. The final catastrophe, the expulsion
of the Aeginetans in 431, was one which death saved Pindar from experien-
cing.
Pindar’s crown of glory was not without its thorns. The envious grudged
him his Sicilian successes: he was traduced as a friend of tyrants, a neglector of
his homeland. The rather violent manner in which in the Ninth Pythian -
dedicated to a Cyrenean, but sung in Thebes — he drags in an account of his
poetical activities on his country’s behalf shows how seriously he took reproaches
of this sort. But in the last years of his life he must have suffered much more
deeply from the political developments. As the days of common danger
receded into the past, so the rivalry of Sparta and Athens ate deeper into the
vitals of Greece. The battle at Oenophyta (457) confirmed for a decade the
oppressive Athenian dominion over Boeotia. Only two epinicia are known
from this period. The recovery of Boeotian freedom at Coronea (447) came
within Pindar’s lifetime. Ancient tradition says that he died in Argos, and it is
a happy invention which makes this priest-like poet of beauty breathe his last
on the knees of a boy whom he loved.
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In the classical period such a poet as Pindar was fated very soon to be con-
sidered old-fashioned. He shared this fate with Alcman, Stesichorus and Simoni-
des, as we see from a passage of Eupolis (Ath. 1, 2d and 14, 63 8d). We can just
as easily understand, however, that the Alexandrians took a great interest in the
difficult and allusive poet who yet had a deep sense of his creative mission.
Here again it was Aristophanes of Byzantium who made the definitive contribu-
tion; he divided the lyrical text into cola and edited all that then survived in
seventeen books. The Vita Ambrosiana gives us the best synopsis of what the
Alexandrians had before them. Eleven books were composed of songs connected
with worship: first and foremost the Hymns to the Gods, next the Paeans, both
of these in one book each; then Dithyrambs, Processional Hymns (Prosodia),
Songs fora Chorus ofMaidens (Partheneia) and SongsforDancing (Hyporchemata),
each of these groups composing two books, except the Partheneia, which had
another book of separate songs for girls added to it: there are obvious difficulties
in the subdivision here. The provinces newly won for choral lyric by Simonides
are represented by four books of Epinicia and one each of Threnoi and Encomia.
A glance at this list shows us how miserably little has survived. We have
reason to believe that the same factors which caused tragedy to be represented
now only by a small selection were at work in Pindar’s case also. The age of the
Antonines, with its strong concentration on the requirements of the schools,
was content with an edition of Pindar which comprised only the Epinicia. When
Eustathius of Thessalonica was preparing a commentary on Pindar in the
twelfth century — the introduction still survives — he justified this limited
selection on the ground that the victory-odes were the most intelligible part of
Pindar’s output.
To some extent our knowledge of Pindar has been helped by the papyrus
discoveries,! and the larger fragments have given us some impression of his
other work. Often, of course, we have to content ourselves with titles and
citations in later writers. For one of the hymns these are enough to give us some
inkling how much we have lost. In the Hymn to Zeus written for Thebes? a song
sung by Apollo (or by the Muses to his lyre) is related, which is said to have
been performed at Cadmus’ wedding and to have related the creation of the
world and the ordering of it by Zeus. When the work was finished (so the song
related) Zeus asked the gods if anything was lacking to this beautiful world.
They replied: a divine nature to sing its praises. Thus Pindar elaborately displays

1 Nr. 1063-1081 P.: cf. iRIGOIN’s chapter (v. inf.) and the index in sNELL. The new volume
Ox. Pap. 26, 1961 consists wholly of fragments of Pindar, partly from unknown works,
partly assigned conjecturally, and some fragments of commentaries (esp. on the Isthmians
nr. 2451) and bits of anew life of Pindar. We mentioned its polemical nature in connection
with the name of the poet’s father: in another part the statement that he died at the age of
fifty when Habron was archon (458/7) is rejected on chronological grounds. Fragments
from the poems are almost all very small in this volume, but topet has done wonders with
them. Nr. 2441 deserves a mention — a larger fragment, possibly from a prosodion; so do
nr. 2450 fr. 1 (from a dithyramb?) describing the feats of Heracles, and nr. 2442 fr. 7, the
best of all, with some verses about the birth of Heracles.
2 B. SNELL, Die Entdeckung des Geistes. 3rd ed. Hamb. 1955, 118 (Eng. ed. p. 79).
196
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

in mythical form the poet’s place in the world, as he saw it and maintained it.
It is of the Paeans mostly that our knowledge has been advanced by the
papyri. We have already mentioned the one with which Pindar stepped into
the breach at Delphi in 490. The Paean for the Abderites, a very difficult poem,
implores divine assistance for the Ionian colonists, who were in constant conflict
with the Thracian population. Another paean reflects the terror felt in Thebes
at the solar eclipse of the 30th April 463. With a disregard of Ionian science
Pindar, the lover of light, prays to the rays of the sun, which he calls ‘mother of
the eyes’. Even Ceos, the home of his rivals Simonides and Bacchylides, had a
paean written for it by Pindar, in which he praised the island for its fame in the
arts. Two of the dithyrambs were composed for the Athenians. One contained
the passage already mentioned in praise of the city. These poems had their own
titles: thus one composed for Thebes was entitled Descent of Heracles into the
Underworld or Cerberus. In the surviving verses Pindar turns against the long-
windedness of the old dithyramb, almost certainly under the influence of Lasus.
Suidas mentions Spdauata tpayixd in his list of Pindar’s works: he means of
course the dithyrambs.
The remains of the Prosodia are very scanty, but those of the Partheneia are
much better. Among these were included the Daphnephorica, sung at Thebes
when a staff wreathed in laurel, flowers and ribbons (the kw) was carried in
procession to Apollo Ismenius. We have appreciable remains of one of these
poems (fr. 94 b.), and we know of another, which Pindar composed when his
son Daiphantus had the honour to be chosen as a daphnephorus. We can find
out very little with certainty about the Hyporchemata: we do not even know
what they were. Ancient interpretations are confused, and they show how much
we depend on the classifications and definitions of the old grammarians. There
is much uncertainty, so that many things are cited as from scolia, which Aristo-
phanes apparently put under the Encomia. At all events, poems of the last-
named variety were performed at banquets in praise of individuals.' Some
historical interest attaches to an encomium on the phil-Hellene Alexander, king
of Macedon, and a special personal interest to a poem on the beautiful boy
Theoxenos of Tenedos. Pederasty is here spiritualized: the beams that dart from
the eyes of Theoxenos kindle a flame in the poet’s heart. Some remains of the
threnoi remind us of the second Olympian (addressed to Theron) with its
Pythagorean elements of thought: here consolation is sought in the assurance
of a happy life hereafter. The Orphic and Pythagorean themes of metempsy-
chosis and judgment after death (fr. 129 f. 133) rub shoulders with the beatifica-
tion of those dedicated at Eleusis (fr. 137). One fragment (131 b) shows a
remarkable juxtaposition of the Homeric notion of the likeness concealed
within the body and the belief in an immortal soul proceeding from the gods.
We do not know its context, but the verses show that in these realms of religious
thought Pindar was no more than an occasional visitor.
Among the surviving fragments scarcely any has so singular an atmosphere
1 B. A. VAN GRONINGEN, Pindare au banquet. Les fragments des scolies. Leyden 1960 (fr.
122-128 SNELL with commentary).
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as the Cerberus-dithyramb (fr. 70 b) with its depiction of the wild ecstasy which at
the feasts of Dionysus seized even upon the gods. But passages of such individual
colouring are the exception. In general the style (taking the word in its widest
sense) of the fragments is very similar to that of the Epinicia, so that we can feel
confident that the latter enable us to grasp all the essentials of Pindar’s personality
as a poet.
The Alexandrians arranged the four books of the Epinicia according to the
festivals: one book each for the great Olympic and Delphic games which
recurred every four years and for the smaller Nemean and Isthmian games
which were held biennially." The supposition that the Nemeans once brought
up the rear of the collection, explains the appearance of alien elements in the
third book. The Ninth Nemean celebrates a victory of Chromius of Aetna at
Sicyon, the Tenth a victory of one Theaeus at the games of Hera in Argos, while
the Eleventh is not even an epinicion, but was written for Aristagoras of Tenedos
to celebrate his appointment as prytanis. Apparently in the change from roll to
codex the last two books changed places: the Isthmians came at the end and in this
exposed position suffered damage at the closing sections. The Olympians include
one spurious piece—the Fifth, in which a contemporary of Pindar’s, probably
a Sicilian poet, sings the praises of Psaumis of Camarina, whose victory in the
chariot-race is celebrated in Ol. 4.
A passage such as Nem. 4. 13 shows that after the celebration the Epinicia
might sometimes be performed by a single singer to the lyre. It is not impossible
that some of them were intended from the beginning for solo performance,”
but it seems unlikely. These songs of victory were sung by a chorus to the
accompaniment of flute and lyre, only occasionally on the scene of the success,
generally at the celebration held in the victor’s city.
There are certain elements which appear in almost every epinicion. The
purpose of the song demanded some statements about the victor, his family, his
sporting achievements at other festivals. We are seldom told anything about the
course of the contest itself. The Pindar of the “Wanderers Sturmlied’, revelling
in the rumble of chariot-wheels and the crack of whips, had no existence out-
side the mind of the young Goethe.
Another element, varying greatly in extent, but usually taking up a good deal
of space, is mythical narrative. The poet and his employer might very well take
different views of the relative importance of these two parts, as we see in the
story that Simonides’ fees were reduced because he had given too much space
to the Dioscuri. Several different considerations may govern the introduction
of myth. It may have a relevance to the place of the victory — this was particu-
larly common in the odes written for west Greeks, who had not many family
myths of their own. It may be prompted by the victor’s own circumstances. It

" Dating of the individual epinicia: scHWENN, RE 20, 1950, 1613. On the difficult ques-
tion how far Pindar’s development can be seen in the form and content of his poems: F.
SCHWENN, Der junge Pindar. Berl. 1940. W. THEILER, Die zwei Zeitstufen in Pindars Stil und
Vers. Halle 1941. SCHADEWALDT (v. inf.), 337.
2 Thus WILAMOWwiITzZ (v. inf.), 233. 240. 254.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

may contain an inner meaning which serves as a great example to the victor
himself. Choral lyric narrative is essentially different from epic narrative. Such
an elaborate passage as the story of the Argonauts in the Fourth Pythian gives us
an especially good opportunity to see its characteristic features. The point of
departure is not the beginning of the story, but some later stage in it, from which
the poet ranges, or rather jumps, backwards and forwards. The object is not to
tell a straightforward story, but to elaborate within the framework of the poem
something in the tale which seems important and presents itself to the mind as a
separate picture. One cannot forget Pelops standing at night on the seashore
and calling the god from the sea (Ol. 1), the bold huntress Cyrene, who wins
Apollo’s heart, so that he goes and takes counsel with the wise Centaur before
his cave (Pyth. 9) or the young Jason coming down from the mountains and
standing in the market-place of Iolcus like a radiant god among the astonished
townsfolk (Pyth. 4). The poet is fond of framing his scenes and sections by the
archaic device of ring-composition.t There are a good many speeches, giving
some element of drama. The narratives end as suddenly as they begin, with some
brief formal phrase. But with all its changes in tempo and texture, Pindar’s
narrative is by no means formless;? rather it has to be understood in reference to
some definite value which the poet is particularly concerned to illustrate.
A third constituent element is that of proverbial wisdom. All the separate
poems are shot through with it, and gnomae recur constantly. Usually the poet
gives the impression that he is conveying the fruit of his own reflections. Con-
sequently the gnomic elements are closely connected with another constituent,
which can therefore only be separated out if we bear this in mind: namely
expressions of Pindar’s own views, usually on the value and purpose of the
poet’s calling, but sometimes rising in hymn-like strains to the expression of his
religious convictions.
The Partheneion of Aleman allows us to see that the individual elements which
we have here enumerated were already found in the earliest choral lyric; and
when we see how Alcman follows the myth of the sons of Hippocoon with the
gnome about the avenging power of the gods, passing immediately to, ‘But I
sing of the light of Agido . . .’, we can conclude that these sudden transitions
were all part of the style. Pindar himself occasionally speaks of his rapid changes
of subject as if they were a stylistic feature demanded by the rules of his art.
It is striking that his testimony (Pyth. 10. 54; 11. 41) is supported by that of
Bacchylides (ro. 51) and probably of Stesichorus (fr. 25). In the very nature of
the epinicia it was inevitable that the question of their unity should in recent
times have become once more a central problem in the interpretation of Pindar.
August Boeckh, whose great edition of 1821 laid the foundations of Pindaric
research, was the first to look for dominating themes in this poetry whose
manner of composition is so hard to grasp. The method was brought into dis-
repute by the speculations of L. Dissen and others, and the house had to be put
1 w, A. A. VAN OTTERLO, ‘Untersuchungen tiber Begriff, Anwendung und Entstehung
der griech. Ringkomposition’. Meded. Nederl. Akad. afdeeling letterkunde 7/3. Amsterdam
1944. 2, 1L1G, Zur Form der pindarischen Erzahlung. Berl. 1932.
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in order by A. B. Drachmann.! Then for a long time the most fashionable type
of interpretation was that which aimed at discovering the associative connections
which seemed predominant between the different parts. Wilamowitz’ Pindaros
paved the way for change, and Schadewaldt has recently brought the question
of unity back into the foreground.
The problem is as follows: Pindar’s Epinicia give the impression of a sometimes
kaleidoscopic mixture of diverse elements, tied together by loose and even
wilful transitions. Yet anyone who has any feeling for poetry cannot escape the
feeling that in the last resort all this multiplicity is subsumed under a great
unity. Now where does this unity reside? The decisive answer has been given
by Hermann Frankel:? the epinicion elevates the significant event of victory
into the realm of values, the world from which the poet’s creation flows. This
world of values is displayed and exemplified in its various spheres: in the divine
itself, in the tales of the heroes, in the rules of conduct and not least in the poet's
own creative activity as an artistic realm in its own right. Once this is under-
stood, we shall not find it difficult to find a unity in Pindar’s poetry which is
comparable (although distantly so) with the unity of classical works of art.
Observations like those of Dornseiff in particular on the peculiarities of his
composition — sometimes gliding smoothly, sometimes desultory and abrupt —
are entirely justified. On the other hand, the lines of thought emanating from
the individual elements are all within a realm provided by the personality of the
poet and his way of seeing the world. Thus the unity of these poems lies not in
their internal structure, but in the consistent relevance of their constituent parts
to that firm world of aristocratic values which Pindar felt to be immovable.
We can only mention the most important of his convictions. A central
feature of the aristocratic view of humanity was the firm belief that innate and
inherited qualities (¢vd)3 were decisive. “It is a vain struggle, if one seeks to hide
one’s inborn character’ (Ol. 13. 13). Pindar speaks throughout in the spirit of
the aristocracy when he looks down on those who have acquired skill compared
with those who have inherited it. The Olympic victor needs a trainer, certainly,
but the trainer’s job is only to ‘sharpen’ the inborn abilities (Ol. 10. 20). One
who only possesses acquired ability is always a man in darkness, who never
walks with a sure foot (Nem. 3. 41).
The direct light of this world of ideas falls first on the myths of the heroes.
The characters they depict, with their deeds of supreme bravery, are all illustra-
tions of that noble quality that shows itself also in the hard-won successes
achieved in the great games. Very frequently these two realms touch one
another, since the heroes were the putative ancestors of the noble houses from
which the athletic victors sprang.

' Moderne Pindarfortolkning. Copenhagen 1891.

7 Gnom. 6, 1930, 10, now in Wege und Formen friihgriechischen Denkens. 2nd ed. Munich
1960, 366. See also the splendid chapter ‘Die “‘ Michte”’ bei Pindar’ in Dichtung und Philos.
des friihen Griechentums. 2nd ed. 549.
° W. HAEDICKE, Die Gedanken der Griechen iiber Familienherkunft u. Vererbung. Diss. Halle
19306.
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Next to the athlete’s achievement, and of equal merit, was the poet’s. Through
it the victory achieved permanence, since the words of the poet elevated his
victory into the realm of the noble and valuable. Just as in Homer, the worth of
a man is first authenticated by the recognition that it finds in the bestowal of
honours and in words of praise. Pindar is conscious of his important office, and
speaks of it often and emphatically. ‘Noble deeds must perish if none speak of
them’ (fr. r21). Goethe expressed the same view when in The Natural Daughter
he puts into Eugenie’s mouth the words, ‘Das Wesen, wir’ es, wenn es nicht
erschiene?’
Both these things, however, the victories that come from innate ability and
the gift of poetry that defies time, depend on the basic condition of all successful
achievement — the blessing bestowed by the gods. In other words, Pindar’s
outlook on the world is essentially religious. ‘From the gods come all possi-
bilities of mortal achievement; by them men become wise and strong of arm
and mighty in speech’ (Pyth. 1. 41). Zeus is lord and giver of all. Next place to
him in the poet’s heart is held by the Delphian god, the protector of aristocratic
qualities. Pindar’s pantheon is not so colourful as Homer’s. His gods are less
individual: he sees them rather as powers that penetrate the whole universe.
Hence we find a great part played by such figures as Tyche, Hesychia, Hora,
which represent a crystallization of the divine into particular powers or around
particular aspects of human life. It would be wrong to speak of personification.
The most impressive expression of this Weltanschauung is the proemium of the
Fifth Isthmian. In Hesiod’s Theogony Theia is the mother of Helios, Selene and
Eos: in Pindar she has become the primal source of the world of beauty and
splendour, the ultimate, divine basis whence all that shines and gives light
derives its magical power, whether it be gold or victory in holy places.
There is another respect in which Pindar’s view of the gods differs yet more
profoundly from Homer’s. The poet himself declares (Ol. 1. 35) that it becomes
a singer to speak good of the gods. This involves abandonment of several
features of Homer’s mythology, and we see how in practice Pindar purified
the traditional tales. His suppressing the story of the dismemberment of Pelops
and his replacing it by the theme — blameless by contemporary standards — of
Poseidon’s carrying the boy off provides the best-known example.' This pro-
cedure is very different from the passionate protest of a Xenophanes or the
struggles of Aeschylus to justify the ways of Zeus, but ultimately it is rooted in
the same dissatisfaction with the religion of the epics. The poet’s attitude to this
world of the divine contains an antinomy which is surprising and yet typically
Greek. It finds striking expression in the opening of the Sixth Nemean: the poet
is well aware of the impotence of men, which must ever set them apart from the
power and certainty of the gods. But he knows the other side of the medal: in
spite of everything, power of mind and greatness of soul can make man com-
parable to the gods. They are two eternally distinct races, yet both are children
of the same mother. The Eighth Pythian also speaks of the two sides of human
life. We find there the gloomy dictum that man is only the dream of a shadow;
™ Other examples in DORNsEIFF, Pindars Stil, 126.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

but at once comes the comforting reflection that if light from the gods shines on
this troubled existence, it can rise to success and glory. To embody this light in
poetry and to impart it thus to men— this for Pindar is the duty and purpose of
the poet.
Pindar’s language falls essentially within the framework of the literary
dialect of choral lyric: that is, it adopts the epic inheritance, displays a Doric
colouring (stronger in Pindar than in the two Cean poets of Ionian extraction),
and includes Acolic elements. Our evaluation of the latter depends on the
degree of faith that we have in the transmission. The style enjoined by the genre
was less binding on Pindar than on an epic poet. He did not let tradition prevent
him from the effective deployment of his individual manner of expression. His
massive sentence-structure, in which the heavy load of ornament scarcely lets
the framework be seen, his renunciation of the antitheses and particles beloved of
Greek authors in favour of a wilful violence in stringing together and interlacing
his clauses, the weight which he places on the noun, so that the verb in contrast
is little more than a colourless prop to the sentence, his wealth of images, aimed
at the nature of the thing, not at its sensible properties, and mingling one with
another with a head-strong recklessness — all these qualities went into Pindar’s
creation of that ornate style which has characterized the ode right down into
modern times.?
Despite all his generic propriety, Pindar is essentially the great individualist.
We must therefore kill a cock to Tyche for the great papyrus discovery which
acquainted us with a choral lyrist who was Pindar’s rival, although he never
arrived at Pindar’s greatness. In 1896 the British Museum acquired the remains
of two papyrus rolls containing poems of Bacchylides (nr. 109 P.), which had
been found in a grave. A few small fragments were later added (nr. 110-112),
and now Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, nr. 2361-68 have given a little more.
Bacchylides, who had before been only a name, came like his uncle Simonides
from Ceos. Eusebius puts his floruit in 467, which fits quite well. He died
probably around the middle of the century.
The Alexandrians adopted him into the canon of the nine lyric poets and
classified his work. They seem to have done so in nine books, of which six
contained hymns for religious uses, namely dithyrambs, paeans, hymns, pro-
sodia, partheneia and hyporchemata, while three others, entitled Epinicia,
Erotica and Encomia were addressed to human beings. Thus with Bacchylides as
with Pindar, we have access only to a relatively small part of a very large
production.
One of the two rolls of which portions survive contains the epinicia in groups
which are not arranged according to place, like Pindar’s, or according to the
type of athletic event, like those of Simonides. We have fourteen of them,
which, despite considerable gaps and mutilation, are essentially readable, and so
we receive a fair idea of Bacchylides’ qualities in this genre. Comparison with
' This tendency stems to some extent from a misconception going back to Horace, as
F. ZUCKER has shown: ‘Die Bedeutung Pindars fiir Goethes Leben und Dichtung’. Das
Altertum 1, 1955, 180 f.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

Pindar is particularly interesting when both poets are celebrating the same
victory. This is the situation in the oldest of the known epinicia of Bacchylides,
to be dated probably about 485. It is concerned with a victory in the pancration
at the Nemean games, won by the Aeginetan Pytheas, one of the sons of
Lampon. The island and the family had close connections with Pindar, as we
have seen, and he celebrated this victory in the Fifth Nemean. It was at Hiero’s
court especially that the paths of the two poets crossed, at least as concerned
their poetry: it is not certain that Bacchylides was personally present in Sicily,
although his close ties with Simonides make it very likely. When Hiero entered
a winning horse at Olympia in 476, Pindar wrote the First Olympian to cele-
brate it, and Bacchylides also sent an ode from Ceos (5). The next commission
from Hiero — following on his first victory with a chariot at Delphi — fell to
Pindar, and Bacchylides had to be content with a short expression of good
wishes in choral lyric form (4). But the Cean finally was victorious, since he and
not Pindar wrote the ode to celebrate Hiero’s victory with the chariot in the
Olympics of 468.
Bacchylides wrote also for his own island: five of his epinicia refer to victories
of his countrymen. It is surprising that about 458! Pindar received the commis-
sion to write for the Ceans a paean to the Delphic Apollo. Thus we may have
to take seriously the statement of Plutarch (de ex. 14. 605 c) that Bacchylides
lived for a long time in the Peloponnese as an exile.
In the epinicia of Bacchylides we find the same elements as in those of Pindar.
The construction also is comparable in so far as the myth, in an elaborate form,
occupies the central position and is framed round by the other parts. He some-
times goes into the details of the victory more than Pindar does, and in the
closing sections he is very free with gnomic expressions. In these we can see his
inferiority to Pindar: it is very everyday philosophy that he imparts, usually in
everyday language. Nowhere do we find the profundity of Pindar’s perception
of values. There are passages also in which the poet speaks of his art. In one
place (5, 16) he does this in a pompous and Pindaric vein, flapping eagle’s wings
in Hiero’s face: but we find him more convincing as the Cean nightingale which
he claims to be in another passage (3, 98). An epigram (9, 184) in the Palatine
anthology, with rather delicate appreciation, addresses Pindar as Movodwy tepov
otopa but Bacchylides as AdAe Lepr.
The epinicia are sufficient to show that Bacchylides’ strength lay in his gift for
narrative. The earliest of them (13) bears witness that he draws upon Homer
much more than Pindar does. His dexterity is visible in little touches: the
superiority of the Trojans and their collapse when Achilles re-enters the battle
are depicted from the Trojan side. The besieged rushing forward to the attack
evoke a simile drawn from seafaring which is wholly Homeric in subject and
treatment. Bacchylides appears less derivative in his two long odes to Hiero
(3 and s), even if we suppose that he had originals now lost. In the second of
these, on the victory in the Olympic horse-race, he makes the meeting of
Heracles and Meleager in the underworld an impressive illustration of the frailty
TCL estile 7 ts
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

of all heroic greatness. The sudden ending of the scene is only superficially
reminiscent of Pindar. It is not one of Pindar’s bold transitions, but rather a
simple abandonment of the subject, more in the style of Alcman. In the third
poem on the victory in the Olympic chariot-race of 468, Bacchylides addresses
a Hiero who was gravely ill and died shortly afterwards. It is rather a fine
touch that he consoles him with an elegant version of the story of Croesus: the
Lydian king, who like Hiero had won the favour of Apollo through his sumptu-
ous gifts to the temple at Delphi, was not deserted by his god in the hour of
mortal danger. When Sardes fell, he rescued his protégé from the pyre, which
had been quenched by rain from Zeus, and took him to live a blessed life among
the Hyperboreans.! Here and in many other passages it is not hard to discover
the relation between the narrative and the circumstances of composition.
The other pieces of the London papyrus belong to a second roll, which
contained the dithyrambs. The word Ac@vpapBor as the collective title is con-
firmed by occasional citations and by the label (a/AAuBos) of a papyrus (nr. T10)
containing this text. Under this heading the Alexandrians had collected choral
odes of a narrative content: it did not matter to them that two of them (16, 17)
were manifestly addressed to Apollo. But in learned theory and in practical
religious use the distinction between paean and dithyramb had ceased to be
clear.2 The individual poems had titles and were arranged according to the
initial letter. Six of them survive in one condition or another: the Sons of
Antenor or the Demand for the Restoration of Helen, with the embassy of Menelaus
and Odysseus to Troy as described in Il. 3. 205 ff.; the Heracles (the title is only
an inference), which does not so much relate as allude to the death of the hero
at Deianira’s hands — the subject-matter of the Trachiniae of Sophocles;3 the
Youths ( Hi@eor) and the Theseus, two poems which we shall have to discuss a
little later; the Io, a dithyramb composed for Athens containing the story of
Zeus’ love for that heroine and giving that prominence to Dionysus which
one expects in the genre; finally the Idas (only a few verses of this survive) which
Bacchylides wrote for the Spartans probably during his banishment. The subject
was the rape of Marpessa by Idas.
Among these poems it is the two based on the legend of Theseus that best
exemplify the narrative skill of Bacchylides. Like Pindar, he does not follow
the chronological order, but seizes upon situations. It has been truly remarked
that there is a ballad-like quality about much of his poetry. That earnest and
powerful impressiveness, the statuesque beauty of the figures that we find in
Pindar is wholly lacking in Bacchylides. This is typical of his Ionian nature: he
did not write his poems as Pindar did, surrounded by all the divine powers
which permit themselves to be perceived in their images by the wise in this
world. In Bacchylides all this was superficial, and in consequence his sententiae

oS On this poem and on the Delphic and Lydian variants of Croesus’ death see B. GENTILI
in the second chapter of his book Bacchilide. Studi. 2nd ed. Urbino 1058.
2 Ps.-Plut. de mus. 10. 1134. A. V. BLUMENTHAL, RE s.v. Paian 235i:
3 On the relation to Sophocles, whose handling of the story is probably the later, see
POHLENZ, Griech. Trag. 2nd ed. 2. 88.
204
 LTHE ARCHAIC PERIOD

have no depth. But he knew how to work with a well-filled stage, on which
there was always something to captivate or to move, one that was the scene of
many-coloured life and of a movement that held the attention captive.
In the * Hi@eor we are on the ship which carried the unhappy children of Athens
to Crete as an offering to the Minotaur. Minos, the great son of Zeus, is boldly
defied by Theseus as protector of one of the maidens. Theseus also is the son of
a god: he proves that Poseidon is his father by producing from the deep a ring
which Minos had thrown into the sea. Dolphins convey him to the god’s
abode; he is alarmed at the bright light that streams from the daughters of the sea
as they dance, but Amphitrite bestows on him a purple mantle and diadem of
roses. The scene is depicted on two vase-paintings, which it is instructive to
contrast. A masterly bowl of Euphronius! shows on its inner surface the young
Theseus led by Athene, stretching out his hand to receive the gifts of the en-
throned Amphitrite: a solemn and dignified treatment, such as Pindar would
have given. A more recent bowl in Bologna? depicts the same scene in an operatic
manner, with a stage crowded with life and movement, the gods striking
effective poses rather than showing true nobility. This scene probably illustrates
Bacchylides’ narrative.
While the ’ Ht@eox shows an extensive use of direct speech in the narrative, the
dithyramb Theseus is wholly in dialogue form. One of the speakers is Aegeus,
king of Athens. He has just heard news of the approach of a young hero who
has done great deeds on the Isthmus: he does not yet know that it is his son
Theseus. It is hard to know who the other speaker is, whose questions invite
the king to relate the facts and to give an elaborate word-picture of the approach-
ing hero. The simplest supposition is that the questions come from a chorus of
Athenian citizens. The triadic strophe-division of the other dithyrambs and the
larger epinicia is here given up in favour of the question and answer, which is
maintained through four similarly constructed strophes. One is very greatly
tempted to see in this structure, otherwise unparalleled, the kind of dithyramb
which Aristotle saw as the precursor of tragedy. But if we consider the time at
which Bacchylides wrote, we will more readily suppose that the form of the
poem is influenced by dramatic forms already well developed.
Among the dithyrambs we have evidence that there was a Philoctetes and a
Laocoon. One of the surviving fragments (fr. 20 A.) is interesting: it comes from
a drinking-song written for King Alexander of Macedon. The Alexandrians
classified these songs under the Encomia, as we saw them doing with Pindar,
who also wrote one for the Macedonians. The description of the banquet at
which fancy spreads its wings without restraint is quite masterly. A comparison
with the treatment of this theme in Pindar (fr. 124 a. b.), which Frinkel has made
in detail, is very instructive, and shows us certain standard features of the genre.
The style of Bacchylides is easier and lighter than that of Pindar. Instead of
Pindar’s measured tread we find a rapid flow, instead of his heavy articulation,
pregnant with meaning, there is a rainbow haze of verbal ornament never
1. BUSCHOR, Griech. Vasen. Munich 1940, fig. 169.
2. pruHL, Malerei und Zeichnung der Griechen. Munich 1923, fig. 590.
H 205
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

concealing any great profundity. A characteristic feature is the excessive use of

epithets, in which he contrasts sharply with Simonides — as far as the latter is
known to us. He borrows more from Homer than Pindar does, but his borrow-
ings appear in altered contexts which give a different tone from that of the epic:
Bacchylides’ technique is to form unusual compounds out of current elements
and thus to impart a new colouring. The dialect which he uses is the artificial
one of choral lyric as we find it elsewhere. In general there are few Jonisms,
although the Marpessa poem (fr. 20 A.) provides a striking exception."
Of the other choral lyrists we met Timocreon, with his enmity towards
Themistocles and his polemical scolia, in connection with Simonides. Lasus of
Hermione had to be considered when we were discussing Pindar. More know-
ledge of him would be very welcome, since his activity in Athens under the
Pisistratids was of great importance for the artistic development of the dithy-
ramb and for the beginnings of musical theory. The Athenian Lamprocles
is known to us through the beginning of a powerful hymn to Athene. Of
Antigenes all we know is an epigram in which he celebrates his success as
chorus-master in the Athenian Dionysia. Tynnichus of Chalcis long enjoyed a
reputation based on one of his paeans.

Ibycus: Anth. Lyr. and ed. fasc. 5, 58. c. M. BoWRA, Greek Lyric Poetry 2nd ed.
Oxf. 1961, 247. D. L. PAGE, ‘Ibycus’ Poem in Honour of Polycrates’. Aegyptus
31, 1951, 158. Simonides: Anth. Lyr. 2nd ed. fasc. 5, 76; ibid. Suppl. 49, 59.
After a few fragments in Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, volume 25, 1959, has brought
important new evidence. LOBEL confidently attributes 2431 to Simonides, of
2430 and 2432 he is less sure. BR. GENTILI in Gnom. 33, 1961, 338 claims all
three for Simonides, and he is probably right. MAx. TREU (see p. 189 n. 2) has
convincingly shown this for 2432. On the epinicion nr. 2431 see povrs7,
Nr. 2434 has remains of a commentary on some verses of lyric: the connection
with Simonides is uncertain. On the new texts see also BR. GENTILI, ‘Studi in
Simonide’ (Pap. Ox. 2431). Riv. di cultura class. e medioev. 2, 1960, 113 (a second
part is to follow). c. M. BOWRA, op. cit. 308. Id., Early Greek Elegists. Lond.
1938 (repr. 1959), 173. G. CHRIST, Simonides-Studien. Diss. Ziirich 1941. D. L.
PAGE, ‘Simonidea’. Journ. Hell. Stud. 71, 1951, 133. G. PEROTTA, ‘Simonidea’.
Maia 5, 1952, 242. BR. GENTILI, Simonide. Rome, 1959. Texts of Ibycus and
Simonides: D. L. PAGE, Poetae Melici Graeci. Oxf. 1962.
Pindar: report on published work 1945-1957 by E. THUMMER, AfdA 11, 1958,
65. Detailed study of the transmission: J. 1r1GOIN, Histoire du texte de Pindare.
Paris 1952, who thinks that the archetype of our recension, represented by
Ambrosianus C222 (thirteenth century) goes back to the fourth century. Id., Les
Scholies métriques de Pindare. Bibl. de Ecole des hautes études 310. Paris 1958.
H. ERBSE, ‘Beitrige zum Pindartext.’ Herm. 88, 1960, 23. On the papyri see
* B. SNELL, ‘Bakchylides’ Marpessa-Gedicht’. Herm. 80, 1952, 156. Can it really have
been an invective?
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

p- 196 n. 1. The best edition is that of BRUNO SNELL, 2nd ed. Leipz. 1955; the
third edition (Leipz. 1959) only contains the Epinicia: sNeLL has been waiting
for the publication of the new Pindar papyri by LoBEL. See also c. M. BOWRA,
and ed. Oxf. 1947. AIME PUECH, Coll. des Un. de France. 4 vols. 3rd and 2nd ed.
Paris 1949-58. A. TURYN. Oxf. 1952. M. BE. GALIANO, Olimpicas. Texto, introd. y
notas. 2nd ed. Madrid 1956. J. sANDYS, Loeb Lib. Lond. 1918 (repr. 1957).
ST. L. RADT, Pindars 2 u. 6. Paian. Amsterdam 1958 (text, scholia, comm.).
L. R. FARNELL, The Works of Pindar 2 (comm.) 1932, repr. 1961. R. W. B. BURTON,
Pindar’s Pythian Odes. Essays in Interpretation. 1962. - A. B. DRACHMANN,
Scholia vetera in Pindari carmina, I. Leipz. 1903; 2, 1910; 3, 1927. J. RUMPEL,
Lexicon Pindaricum. Leipz. 1883 (reprint by Olms, Hildesheim 1961). Add to
this the supplementary index in sNELL’s edition. — On the language and style:
F. DORNSEIEF, Pindars Stil. Berl. 1921. U. VON WILAMOWITZ, Pindaros. Berl. 1922.
H. FRANKEL, 'Pindars Religion’. Die Antike 3, 1927, 39. W. SCHADEWALDT, Der
Aufbau des pindarischen Epinikion. Halle 1928. H. GUNDERT, Pindar und sein
Dichterberuf. Frankf. a. M. 1935. G. NORWOOD, Pindar. Berkeley 1945 (repr.
1956); his theory that individual poems were separately given their premiere is
very uncertain. E. DES PLACES. Le Pronom chez Pindare. Paris 1947. Id. Pindare et
Platon, Paris 1949. M. UNTERSTEINER, La formazione poética di Pindaro, Messina
I95I. F. SCHWENN, RE 20, 1950, 1606. J. DUCHEMIN, Pindare poéte et propheéte.
Paris 1955. J. H. FINLEY JR., Pindar and Aeschylus. Cambr. Mass. 1955. BE. THUM-
MER, Die Religiositat Pindars. Comm. Aenipont. 13, Innsbruck 1957. B. A. VAN
GRONINGEN, La Composition littéraire archaique grecque. Verh. Nederl. Akad. N. R.
65/2. Amsterdam 1958, 324. G. PERROTTA, Pindaro. Rome 1959. S. LAUER,
Zur Wortstellung bei Pindar. Winterthur 1959. Bibliog. on the metrical structure
ofperiods in Pindar: sT. L. RADT, Grom. 32, 1960, 223, I. ASTA-IRENE SULZER,
Zur Wortstellung und Satzbildung bei Pindar. Ziirich 1961. G. NEBEL, Pindar und
die Delphik. 1961. — Translations: Eng.: R. LATTIMORE, Chicago 1958; R.
FAGLES, New Haven. Lond. 1961 (foreword by c. M. BoWRA, Introd. and Notes
by A. M. PARRY); Germ., R. DORNSEIFF, Leipzig 1922; Ital., L. TRAVERSO,
Florence 1956. ATHANASIUS KIRCHER (Musurgia universalis 1, 1650, 541) pub-
lished a melody for Pyth. 1, which he claimed to have found in the cloister of
San Salvatore at Messina. The genuineness has been keenly debated; for an
outline of the controversy see R. P. WINNINGTON-INGRAM, Lustrum 1958/3
(1959), 11: he is inclined to think it spurious, but P. FRIEDLANDER in Herm. 87,
1959, 385 has recently spoken up for Kircher.
Bacchylides. Text. BRUNO SNELL, 7th edition (after F. Blass and W. Suess),
Leipz. 1958. On particular papyri: id., Herm. 75, 1940, 177; 76, 1948, 208. Of
the new texts Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, nr. 2361-68, the last two contain fragments of
an exegetical commentary. C. GALLAVOTTI, Gnom. 29, 1957, 421, basing him-
self on nr. 2364, assigns Pindar fr. 336 SNELL (=342 BOWRA) to Bacchylides.
Pap. Soc. It. 14, 1957, nr. 1391 contains fragments of acommentary on choral
lyric, but we cannot tell whether it refers to Pindar or to Bacchylides: cf. x.
LLOYD-JONES, Gnom. 31, 1959, 112. A. SEVERYNS, Bacchylide: essai biographique.
Paris 1933. BR. GENTILI, Studi bacchilidei. Messina 1953; 2nd ed. Urbino 1958.
207
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

A new Eng. transl.: R. FAGLES, New Haven/Lond. 1961. (Preface by c. M.

BOWRA, introd. and notes by A. M. PARRY.)

H Philosophy at the End of the Archaic Period

Amid the plaudits which the epinicia bestowed on wrestlers, boxers and
charioteers, one man of independent thought and the courage to express it dared
to reckon intellect as being greater and more useful to the state (VS 21 B2). This
man, who thus anticipated the words of Euripides (fr. 282 N.) and Isocrates (4.
1) and brought out into the open the basic opposition of two ways of life, was
Xenophanes of Colophon. According to his own story (B8) he left home at the
age of twenty-five when Harpagus was attacking the coastal towns, and
wandered about the Greek world for sixty-seven years. He must have died
about 470. His path led him, like Pythagoras, to the Greek west, where he had
especially close connections with Elea. For his fellow-citizens in Asia Minor he
wrote a history of the founding of Colophon (KoAo¢dvos riots), and for the
new Ionian settlement in Lucania he composed the Colonization of Elea (6 ets
’EXéav rijs *IraAtas dzrouxvop.ds). This is the oldest known epic of contemporary
history. For the rest he conveyed his thoughts mostly in the elegiac metre, which
was well adapted to subjective expression; but he also devised a new and
individual form in the Silloi. These poems in hexameters with occasional iambic
lines were directed against false or obsolete values. They were imitated by Timon
of Phlius in the third century, and to a large extent they were forerunners of
Hellenistic popular philosophy and of Roman satire.
Diogenes Laertius (9. 18) tells us that Xenophanes recited (€ppaysader) his own
poems. It would be rash, however, to picture him as a wandering rhapsode who
recited Homer and Hesiod to a wide public, only to fall upon them and rend
them in more select circles. It is not now possible to gain any notion of his
status in society. We detect something of his personality in the fine elegy (B 1)
which deals with the value of a properly celebrated symposium.
The clear and sober language of the surviving verses does not attest a great
poetical genius, nor yet does Xenophanes’ greatness lie in his philosophy. His
far-reaching influence is based on the depth and strength of his theological
thought. We can still see how his own elevated conception of the deity arose out
of his merciless exposure of the immoral and criminal gods of the epics (B 11)
and his ridicule of anthropomorphism. These Homeric gods are of human
handiwork, just as oxen and lions, if they had hands, would make themselves
gods after their own likeness (B 15): the Aethiopians imagine their gods as black
and snub-nosed, the Thracians theirs as blue-eyed and red-haired (B 16). But
in reality there is one god only — the greatest, all eye, all ear, all mind: without
effort he moves all things by the force of the spirit; remaining in himself, with-
out movement, which would be unbecoming to his greatness (B 23-26). This
adumbrates already the unmoved mover of Aristotle. It is an intellectual con-
ception unheard of in the early Greek world; the anthropomorphic picture of
the gods is abandoned and a supreme being is posited, ruling the universe from
208
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
outside it. If we take B 23, 1 literally (one god is the greatest among gods and
men’) then Xenophanes would have assumed the existence of other gods
alongside this supreme deity, and thus made his peace with the popular religion.
We can only guess. The much disputed Peripatetic treatise On Melissus, Xeno-
phanes and Gorgias cannot be relied on to give a more detailed picture of Xeno-
phanes’ theology.?
Some of the fragments deal with natural phenomena, and show a marked
scepticism towards unsupported hypotheses, together with a striking gift for
observation. From the finding of shells and fossil sea-creatures in rocks Xeno-
phanes inferred a period in which the land was covered by the sea (A 33), and
the alternation of Hooding and drying-out was an important feature in his
physical cosmology. It is often said that he wrote a special treatise on this
subject, which was later given the title On the World ofNature (epi ddcews); but
the evidence for it is weak (B 30. 39).3
The fear that the Olympian gods might be called in question in the light of
new ways of thought evoked a defence which was repeatedly essayed down to
the end of antiquity. Theagenes of Rhegium, whom Tatian (VS 8. 1) makes a
contemporary of Cambyses, is reckoned as its originator. The gods and the
stories about them, he wrote, were to be understood allegorically. Mostly it
was natural phenomena that were to be understood in them: no one could take
exception to their behaviour if it were realized that Apollo signified fire and
Hera air. This doctrine found its way (through men like Stesimbrotus of Thasos)
into the Stoa and has had a wide influence even on modern theories of myth-
ology.*
Ancient historians of philosophy made Xenophanes the teacher of Parmenides
and thus the founder of the Eleatic school; although Theophrastus (VS 21 A 31)5
makes the qualification that Xenophanes did not teach the unity of all that
exists, only the unity of his deity. In his book on Parmenides® Karl Reinhardt
has disproved the immediate dependency which had been supposed, and has
thus re-established the uniqueness of Parmenides, without of course lessening
the stature of a theologian like Xenophanes.
In Plato’s Theaetetus (183 E) Socrates tells how as a young man he met the
veteran Parmenides, and he describes him as Homer does Priam: powerful and
awe-inspiring. Parmenides’ lifetime falls in the late sixth and early fifth centuries.
Elea, his birthplace in southern Italy, came our way in connection with Xeno-
phanes, and its nearness to the centres of Pythagorean teaching puts it beyond

t In the elegant banquet-elegy also (cf. c. M. BOwRA, Problems in Greek Poetry. Oxf.
1953, 1) we find Beds and Beol side by side. G. FRANGOIS, Le Polythéisme et l'emploi au singulier
des mots Beds, Saiuwv dans Ia littérature grecque d’Homere 4 Platon. Paris 1957, 160, which is
relevant to the other thinkers discussed here as well.
2 Problems: w. JAEGER, Theologie der friihen Gr. Denker. Stuttg. 1953, 65. Text: VS 21
A 28.
3 JAEGER Op. cit. §2.
4 JACOB BURKHARDT rejects it: Griechische Kulturgeschichte (Kroner) 1. 326. I. F. WEHRLI,
Zur Geschichte der allegorischen Deutung Homers. Basel 1928. F. BUFFIERE, Les Mythes d’ Homere,
et la pensée grecque. Paris 1956. 5 Cf. FRANKEL 297. 17. 6 Bonn 1916.
209
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

question that he was influenced by those doctrines. A close relation to Hera-

clitus has been repeatedly asserted, but it is still problematical. At all events he
knew the older Ionians, and much of his teaching presupposes Anaximander
and Anaximenes.
The philosophy of Parmenides does not exist in a vacuum. If he was more
than just a disciple of Xenophanes, that does not mean that the latter’s theo-
logical doctrines had no influence on him. But a fact more important than any
postulated relations of this sort is that no other Greek thinker ever laid claim so
radically and resolutely to a new intellectual territory. He broke new ground
also in not being content with assertion, but advancing proofs of his doctrines.
The early Ionians started from what their senses told them about the world, and
looked for a basic principle underlying this multiplicity and for the mechanism
by which it arose. Now came a man who with a single bound passed beyond
this sensible world and used the power of his intellect to seek the truth beyond
its confines. He found it in the one unique existent, which knows neither
coming-to-be nor passing away. Its eternity in time meant that it had no past
and no future, but endured always in a pure present. The perfection of this
being suffers no division and no alteration. It is an unmoved, homogeneous
continuum, comparable to a sphere (B 8, 43), nowhere interrupted by not-
being. That not-being, as the opposite to true being, is unthinkable and there-
fore non-existent is a point to which Parmenides constantly returns. Although
he arrives at this absolute being beyond the sensible world by the path of the
intellect, although he even equates being and thought (B 3), yet his supreme
existent does not fade into a mere idea. Rather what he means is something
possessing actuality, although we cannot have detailed knowledge of its nature.
It is important in this connection that Parmenides treats the true existent as
finite (B 8, 30), a notion which caused difficulties to his followers and was soon
given up. On the other hand those who came after him laid considerably
greater stress on the principle of unity.!
The world of being is contrasted with that of appearance: the former is access-
ible to the intellect of the wise man while the latter is the creation of human
opinion. On one side is the one true dv, on the other the many dd€ar. Yet in this
universe of opinion there are different levels. In a second part of his didactic
poem Parmenides includes a detailed cosmology,? which, while belonging to
the realm of dd€a, nevertheless claims the highest rank in it for systematic
perfection (B 8, 60). It is the basic mistake of mankind that instead of the One
which is without parts they have posited a duality made up of fire and night.
But from this mistake, perpetuating itself through all things, the world of
appearance can be systematized with inner consistency. Fire and night have this
in common with the true being, that they cannot alter their nature. This of
course rules out such cosmogonies as that of Anaximander, and in all subsequent
philosophies the fundamental notion of mixture was well in the foreground.
' M. UNTERSTEINER, ‘L’ essere di Parmenide ¢ odAov, non &’. Riv. critica di storia della
filos. 1955, 51. But he goes too far in rejecting é in B 8, 6.
2 Cf. GIGON, Ursprung (sup. p. 168), 271.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

The manner and proportion in which the two principles are mixed determine
the cosmology of the world of appearance.
The relation between the world of doxa and true being is the most difficult
and yet unsolved problem that Parmenides poses. This section of the poem can
certainly be explained as an exposition of the views of others or a polemic
against them, but still the problem remains: to what extent did Parmenides
claim that his cosmology based on the elements fire and night represented an
approach to the truth or a participation in true being?!
Parmenides conveyed his doctrines in a didactic poem in hexameters, of
which considerable parts are extant. We may say that he takes his place in a
tradition going back to Hesiod; from echoes of Pindar? we may infer the
influence of early choral lyric, but even so the decisive quality of the man is
his uniqueness. The harshness and lack of connection of his verses has sometimes
been remarked by critics and can hardly be denied: we prefer, however, to
salute the poet who in his proemium conjures up the image of the journey
into the bright realm of truth. Divine maidens, the Heliades, escort the car in
which Parmenides is speedily borne along. From the realm of night he comes
to the gate which separates darkness from light. Dike, who holds the key, lets
herself be persuaded by the daughters of the sun to open the great door. A
goddess whose name is not given receives the bold traveller and reveals to him
the world of truth and the world of appearance.
In these verses Parmenides bodies forth his spiritual experience. Southern
Italy early became a land of mystery religions, and the opening up of truth in
the kingdom of light must be partly derived from them. What Parmenides
experienced was an enlightenment, but the chariot with its shrill-squealing
axles bears him along as ‘the man who knows’ (B 1, 3). Here in the realm of
knowledge we find again that juxtaposition of human faculties and divine
intervention which we met in the actions of Homer’s characters.
This is not the place to deal with the way in which the Eleatic school, in the
persons of such men as Zeno, maintained and modified the ontology of Parme-
nides in a way that led to pure dialectic. Melissus of Samos, who held command
for his country against Pericles in 441, faithfully defended the basic doctrine,
but explicitly abandoned the finiteness of the supreme being (VS 30 B 3).
Heraclitus of Ephesus was in the prime of life about 500; i.e. he was roughly
contemporary with Parmenides. We cannot be more precise than this. Rein-
hardt’s view that Parmenides was the elder need no longer concern us. If we
consider that the reverse is possible, then Parmenides may have been in reaction
against Heraclitus. He has often been contrasted with Parmenides as the philo-
sopher of coming-to-be as against the philosopher of being, and in fact he did
not depreciate the sensible world, like Parmenides, and consider it a world of

I H. SCHWABL, ‘Sein und Doxa bei Parmenides’. Wien. Stud. 66, 1953, 50.
2 Ol. 6. 22 ff. On the proemium see BOWRA op. cit. 38.
3 J. ZAFIROPULO, L’ Ecole éléate. Paris 1950. Id., Vox Zenonis. Paris 1958. W. KULLMANN,
‘Zenon und die Lehre des Parmenides’. Herm. 86, 1958, 157. H. FRANKEL (v. inf.) 198. O.
GIGON, Sokrates. Berne 1947, 214. M. BLACK, Zeno’s Paradoxes. Ithaca 1954.
211
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

appearance only; rather he made it with all its incessant change the basis of his
philosophy. Such sayings as that one can never step twice into the same stream
(B or, cf. 12. 49 a) show us how the flux of all things came to be reckoned as a
cardinal point of his philosophy; although in fact the celebrated 7avra pet is not
one of the direct quotations, but was apparently formulated by later writers on
the basis of such passages as that quoted.
But the difference between Heraclitus and Parmenides should not be more
highly stressed than their affinities. The philosophy of Heraclitus also transcended
the world of sense-perception, although in a different way. He saw the change
and decay of things principally as the continuous mutual resolution of opposites
— day and night, winter and summer, peace and war, hunger and satiety (B 67):
but his most characteristic doctrine, which he inculcated repeatedly and often
paradoxically, is the recognition behind all things of an ultimate, all-embracing
unity. Our experience shows us the world as a mass of conflicting tensions, in
which war reigns as the king and father of all (B 53); but at the same time all
contraries are bound together in a firm unity: ‘the unseeen bond is stronger
than the seen’ (B 54). The ‘back-stretched connection’ of bow and lyre is the
most strongly expressed symbol of this philosophy, which pierced the surface
of the sensible world not less boldly than Parmenides’ did.
This unity of opposites is the central element of that logos whose eternal
validity Heraclitus felt himself called upon to proclaim. This logos! is the word
of his writings, it is the thought working in that word, it is above all the great
governing principle of the world. It is the divine Jaw which nourishes all human
laws (B 114); it resides with God, who alone has the insight denied to humanity
(B 78), it is the One only Wise, which is named and not named by the word
Zeus (B 32). We are here reminded of Aeschylus’ hymn to Zeus, and we can
see the similar way in which very different types of religious thought approached
the greatest name of traditional belief.
The passages just quoted bring before us the picture of a thinker proclaiming
his doctrines under a strong ethical impulsion. Recognition of the great cosmic
law, which embraces the path of the sun (B 94) as well as the life of man, must
be our purpose unless we are barbarous of soul. Can we go one step further, and
assume that Heraclitus posited as the ultimate end of human wisdom harmony
with this law that works through all things? By doing so we touch on a central
element of Stoic ethics and at the same time on a difficult basic problem in the
interpretation of Heraclitus. His thought became to a considerable degree the
basis of Stoic philosophy, and inevitably there is a dangerous temptation to
paint his portrait in Stoic colours.
We can see what a special place fire occupied in Heraclitus’ cosmological
thought. ‘Fire’s turnings: first sea, and of sea the half is earth, the other half
scorching breath’ (B 31). In another passage (B 90) he speaks of the exchange
of all things with fire and of fire with all things. But it would be premature to
™ W. KRANZ, “Der Logos Heraklits und der Logos des Johannes’. Rhein. Mus. 93, 1949,
81. U. HOLSCHER, “Der Logos bei Heraklit’. Festgabe f. Reinhardt. Cologne 1952, 69. w.
BROCKER, Gn. 30, 1958, 435.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERTOD

rank Heraclitus as a hylozoist with the older Milesian thinkers. His fire is not
simply the basic stuff from which all else arises. His fire is endued with reason, !
and when he talks of the lightning which rules the cosmos we can see its divine
nature: we can establish a close relation between the three notions, logos, god
and cosmic fire. The human soul also partakes of this fire, and from such a
notion it is easy to see why the driest soul is said to be the wisest (B 118).
It has rightly been inferred that this fiery nature enables the soul to recognize
the logos; and we need only remark in passing how close this train of thought
already is to Stoicism.
Heraclitus appears to us as a great solitary. He came from an old family of
royal degree, but he renounced the privileges ofhis rank in favour of a brother.
He kept himself aloof from the generality of mankind, for whom he had only
contempt: he often refers to them as sleepers. But he felt himself also widely
severed from other Greek poets and thinkers, from Homer as much as from
Archilochus and Hesiod, from Pythagoras, Xenophanes and Hecataeus. If we en-
quire into the sources of his teaching we can only take his own words for answer:
‘I have sought my own self’ (B ror). It was this path that taught him how im-
measurable are the realms of the spirit, whose boundaries no one can reach.?
If the thought is individual, its expression is no less so. We know of a treatise
which Heraclitus is said to have deposited in the great temple of Artemis in
Ephesus. It was later given various titles, including the common “On the Nature
of the World’. The remains are extensive enough to tell us that it took the form
of a continuous exposition of his doctrine. Brick was laid on brick in a style of
the utmost brevity: short noun-clauses are very common. These sentences
bursting violently through the hindrances of language, come from the heart of
a man who was a miser with words and despised the incurious multitude. The
way in which the sentences are strung together may be distantly influenced by
old collections of proverbs (hypothecae). Their interpretation has been difficult
in all ages: Heraclitus has always been called ‘the obscure’ (ckorewds). We hear
of a devoted soul called Scythinus of Teos who turned these enigmatic sentences
all into trochaic tetrameters, probably in the fourth century B.c.
The life of Empedocles of Acragas extends over the first half of the fifth
century and well into the second. The reason for mentioning this contemporary
of Democritus and Anaxagoras here is that he displays very much more archaic
features than either of them.
In the ancient cultural soil of western Hellas his life developed to a richness
and variety which greatly encouraged the rise of legend in later times. He was
active in the politics of his city, appearing as a democratic party-man after the
overthrow of the oligarchical régime which had followed upon the tyrannis.
As a physician and wandering priest he collected disciples and admirers who
followed him from city to city. In the opening of the Catharmoi he speaks of
himself as the leader of a religious thiasos (B 112). In another passage (B 111)
1 B 64. K. REINHARDT, ‘Heraklits Lehre vom Feuer’. Herm. 77, 1942, 1; now in Vermdacht-
nis der Antike. Gottingen 1960, 41, where see also ‘Heraclitea’ on p. 72.
2 B 45. B. SNELL, Die Entdeckung des Geistes. 3rd ed. Hamb. 1955, 36.
H2 «213
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

he promises his adepts not only knowledge of healing arts but the secret lore
of commanding the winds and the weather. His work, of which we possess a
good many fragments, mirrors the many-sidedness of his life. In a didactic poem
of some two thousand verses in two books (A 2), later known as “On the
Nature of Things’, he expounded his cosmogony in the archaic manner, pro-
fessing to teach his pupil Pausanias. He also sought true Being, but he did not
need to go beyond the sensible world: he found it in the four ‘roots’ — the four
elements of which all is built: earth, water, air and fire, all having an eternal
existence and continuing unperturbed in a circular motion (B 27, 13+26,02),
Thus his world-picture combines the eternal rest of Parmenides and the eternal
movement of Heraclitus. But in these four elements the basic substance of the
old Ionians was changed in more than simply number. It is not now a question
of a basic substance causing all things to arise out of itself: rather the forces
that determine all coming-to-be and passing away are found in the principles
of mixing and separating. At the same time this rationally constructed system can
be understood as the play and interplay of divine powers. To see pure allegory
here would be wholly to mistake the man with whom we have to deal. The
four elements appear under the names of Zeus, Hera, Aedoneus and Nestis,
and are called divine.! Divine also are the two great movers which produce
union and separation: their names are Philotes and Neikos, love and strife. As
one or the other has the upper hand, the world varies from happy unity and
completeness in its rounded sphere (B 27, cf. Parmenides B 8, 43) to warring
disunity and vice versa.
If we form a just estimate of the mythical element in this cosmology, we
shall not be surprised that its author wrote also a poem entitled Catharmoi
(Purifications). It seems to have been an extended work: Diogenes Laertius
gives the combined length of it and the other as five thousand verses. The extant
fragments enable us to see common traits in the two poems, but, so far as we
can see, the subject matter of the Catharmoi was quite different. It deals with the
destiny of a human soul: he speaks of it as his own. He avers the divine origin
of this soul, and his supposed career of thaumaturgy was probably connected
with this belief. But in another passage (B r1 5) we hear that he had incurred
guilt and therefore had been driven from the presence of God into long wander-
ings. Thirty thousand ‘hours’ (probably=years) must be spent by such fallen
daemons in wandering about the cosmos in ever new forms of mortal creatures,
tossed from one element to another. In earlier lives Empedocles claims to have
been a boy, a girl, a bush, fowl and fish (B 117). His opposition to the sacrifice
of animals and the eating of their flesh comes from the same source. If we
understand B 120 aright, this earth, as the seat of darkness and misery, came to
be for Empedocles the ‘roofed-over cave’, and the body the ‘alien fleshly
covering’ of the soul (B 126).

' On the distribution of these names see VS 31 A 33 with the note.

POT M2 eM WeeICRIAINIZ26 interpretation (Empedokles 27) is to be preferred. On the
shaman-element in such a figure as Empedocles cf. £. R. DopDSs, The Greeks and the Irrational.
Berkeley 1951, 145.
214
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

It is obvious that all these views fit immediately into the context of the
Orphic and Pythagorean tenets of immortality and metempsychosis which
were so widely current in the Magna Gracecia of that time.' To explain the rela-
tion of the Catharmoi to the cosmological poem scholars have devised a variety
of hypotheses which make Empedocles develop from scientist to mystic or vice
versa. None of these has any secure basis. We should do wrong to underestimate
the range of his genius, which was capable of embracing at once the inquiring
spirit of Ionia and the mystic beliefs of the Orphists. His strength cannot be
said to have lain in the construction of a wholly consistent system; but as a poet
he displayed considerable skill in the modification of old epic elements and in the
devising of new forms. In everything that he wrote we feel heat rather than
light from the fire that burnt within him.

For bibliography see p. 167 f. Texts in VS. Apart from the works of pgicH-
GRABER, GIGON, HOWALD-GRUNEWALD, JAEGER (loc. cit. n. 3), NESTLE and
SNELL (p. 186 n. 4), see on Xenophanes: M. UNTERSTEINER, Senofane. Testi
monianze e frammenti. Bibl. di studi super. 33, Florence 1956. A. LUMPE, Die
Philosophie des Xenophanes von Kolophon. Diss. Munich 1952. H. THESLEFF, On
dating X. Helsingfors 1957. H. FRANKEL, ‘Xenophanesstudien’ in Wege und
Formen friihgriechischen Denkens. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 335. A section on X. in
the treatise of A$-Sakrastani, trans. by F. ALTHEIM and R. STIEHL, Geschichte der
Hunnen 3, 1961, 138. A. FARINA, Senofane di Colofone. Ione di Chio. Naples 1961
(with trans. and comm.). — Parmenides: survey of modern work: H. scHWABL,
AfdA 9, 1956, 129. Editions: J. BEAUFRET, Le Poéme de P. Paris 1955 (with Fr.
trans., text from VS). M. UNTERSTEINER, Parmenide. Testimonianze e frammenti.
Bibl. di studi super. 38. Florence 1958. Monographs etc.: W. J. VERDENIUS,
Parmenides, some comments on his poem. Groningen 1942; Mnem. 4, 1949, 116.
M. BUHL, ‘Zum Stil des P.’ Festschrift Regenbogen. Heidelb. 1956, 35. U. HOL-
SCHER, ‘Grammatisches zu P.’. Herm. 84, 1956, 385. H. SCHWABL, ‘Zur “ Theo-
gonie”’ bei P. und Empedokles.’ Wien. Stud. 70, 1957, 278. K. DEICHGRABER,
‘Parmenides’ Auffahrt zur Gédttin des Rechts.’ Abh. Ak. Mainz. Geistes- u.
sozialwiss. KI. 1958/11. V. GNAZZONI FOA, ‘Le recenti interpretazioni italiane e
straniere dell’ essere eleatico.’ Riv. di filos. neo-scolastica 50, 1958, 326. K. REIN-
HARDT, P. und die Geschichte der griech. Philosophie. 1916, repr. Frankf. a. M. 1959.
W. R. CHALMERS, ‘P. and the beliefs of mortals.’ Phronesis 5, 1960, 5. R. FALUS,
‘P.-Interpretationes’ Acta antiqua Acad. Scient. Hungar. 8, 1960, 267. J. H. M. M.
LOENEN, P., Melissus, Gorgias. A reinterpretation of Eleatic Philosophy. 1960. H.
FRANKEL, Wege und Formen (v. sup.) 157. — Heraclitus: Bibliog.: R. MUTH,
AfdA 7, 1954, 65. A. N. ZOUMPOS, PiBAvoypadiKxa mept ‘H. IlAdrwv 9, 1957, 69.
Editions: H. WALZER, Florence 1939 (with trans.) C. MAZZANTINI, Turin, 1945.
« On particular problems see w. RATHMANN, Quaestiones Pythagorae Orphicae Empedocleae.
Diss. Halle 1933. On the relation between the two works see H. SCHWABL, Wien. Stud. 69,
1956, $50, 6.
215
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Trans.: BR. SNELL, 4th ed. Munich 1944. Studies: 0. GIGON, Untersuchungen zu
H. Leipzig 1935. MiscH, Der Weg in die Philosophie I. Berne 1950, 335. G. S.
KIRK, Heraclitus. The Cosmic Fragments. Cambr. 1954, with a detailed commen-
tary, including interpretation of H’s forerunners. A. JEANNIERE, La Pensée
d’ Héraclite d’Ephése. Paris 1958, with trans. of the fragments. E. KURTZ, Interpreta-
tionen zu den Logos-Fragmenten Heraklits. Diss. Tiibingen 1959 (typewritten).
CL. RAMNOUX, Héraclite ou homme entre les choses et les mots. Paris 1959. P.
WHEELWRIGHT, Heraclitus. Princeton 1959. K. REINHARDT’s studies ‘Heraklits
Lehre vom Feuer’ and ‘Heraclitea’ are now to be found in Vermdachtnis der
Antike. Gottingen 1960, 41. 72. H. FRANKEL Op. Cit. 237. 251. 253. M. MARCO-
vicH, Heraclito I. Mérida-Venezuela 1962 (full bibliog.); “H. und seine Lehre.
Materialien des Koll. iiber den altgr. Philos. H. 30. 10. 1961 in Leipzig’. Wiss.
Zeitschr.d. Karl-Marx-Univ. Gesellsch.u. sprachw. Reihe. Heft 3/1962. Empedocles:
W.KRANZ, E. Antike Gestalt und romantische Neuschépfung. Ziirich 1949 (withtrans.).
K. REINHARDT, ‘E. Orphiker und Physiker’. Class. Phil. 45, 1950, 170; now in
Vermichtnis der Antike. Gétt. 1960, 101. MARIA SOPHIA BUHL, Untersuchungen
zu Sprache und Stil des E. Diss. Heidelb. 1956 (typewritten). J. BOLLACK, “Die
Metaphysik des E. als Entfaltung des Seins’. Phil. 101, 1957, 30. B. A. VAN
GRONINGEN, La Composition littéraire archaique grecque. Verh. Nederl. Ak. N.R.
65/2. Amsterdam 1958, 201. M. DETIENNE, ‘La ““Démonologie”’ d’Empédocle’.
Rev. Et. Gr. 72, 1959, I. G. NELOD, Empedocle d’ Agrigente. Brussels 1959. G.
CALOGERO, ‘L’ eleatismo di E.’ Studi L. Castiglioni 1, 1960, 129. C. H. KAHN,
‘Religion and Natural Philosophy in Empedocles’ Doctrine of the Soul’. Arch.
f. Gesch. d. Philos. 42, 1960, 3. An outline of the contents of the Catharmoi is
given in the treatise of As-Sakrastani (v. sup. Xenophanes).

I The Beginnings of Science and Historiography

Some of the most credible traditions about Thales refer to his mathematical
interests. The achievements of the Pythagoreans in this field can be assessed in
their general outlines only. Anaximander drew a diagrammatic map of the
world, and either the Pythagoreans or Parmenides discovered that it was a
sphere. Empedocles’ activities as a physician have just been discussed.
These few examples serve to show that the beginnings of Greek philosophy
embrace also the beginnings of the individual sciences, and that to separate them
is to apply quite unhistorically a modern distinction. It is only with this reserva-
tion — and with the further one that such questions remain necessarily on the
fringe of our treatment — that we add the following observations.
Some of the instances mentioned remind us of important historical connections.
Unquestionably Thales’ mathematics were under Egyptian influence, and we
were able to find a Babylonian forbear for Anaximander’s map of the world
(p. 164). The Ionians of Asia Minor, who were mainly responsible for cultural
advances in the archaic period, were influenced by old and highly developed
civilizations: in the sciences as elsewhere they learned much from them. With
increasing knowledge of such indebtedness the conviction that the Greeks were
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the originators of European science has seemed to become more questionable.

We certainly do not propose here to treat the Greeks as inventors out of no-
thing. But despite all that we have learned of Egyptian medicine or Babylonian
mathematics, we must never overlook the basic difference which divides Greek
science from all that had gone before, and which guarantees its fundamental
importance in the history of western civilization.! It was among the Greeks of
Asia Minor that there first arose that form of intellectual work, directed purely
towards the acquisition of knowledge without consideration of practical
utility, which we call science. Those characteristics which we see most clearly
in the history of Greek mathematics, with its apparatus of axiom, postulate and
definition and with that leaning towards systematization which so soon showed
itself, belong to Greek science in general, including the writing of history, which
sprang from similar intellectual attitudes. The will towards critical examination
and comprehension of truth and actuality embodies itself in a way of approach
to certainty through the testing and rejection of hypotheses — an entirely new
form of intellectual procedure which has been the basis of all subsequent advance
in the sciences.
The late sixth and early fifth centuries witness the work of a man who
exemplifies impressively the efforts made to master one science within the
stream of contemporary culture. The man is Alcmeon of Croton. He may well
have known Pythagoras: at all events the latter’s teaching had a profound
influence on him.? His book, written in the Ionic dialect under the title Hepi
dvatos, is the first known medical treatise in Greek. It calls itself a manual of
instruction for three of his pupils, and begins (B 1) with a sentence which sets its
whole tone: a man can only approach that wisdom possessed by the gods
through drawing conclusions from what he can see. This sentence looks back-
wards to Xenophanes’ modest disclaimer (VS 21 B 34) and forward to the
famous dictum of Anaxagoras (VS 59 B 21 a): Phenomena give us a glimpse of
what is not seen.3
Alcmeon’s work shows a mixture of theory and empiricism which is char-
acteristic of his time and of a wide range of Greek science. Health he considers
as a state of balance between opposing qualities such as wet and dry, cold and
warm, sour and sweet. The loss of this equipoise produces illness. This way of
interpretating the condition of microcosm and macrocosm as coming from the
interplay of opposites either in equal or unequal proportions is wholly in har-
mony with the intellectual climate of the age. Yet its author took a giant stride
in the realm of physiology when he recognized the brain as the central organ of
sense-perception. He did, however, overstep the limits of observation when he
propounded, in discussing a much-debated question of ancient medicine, the
view that human semen originates in the brain.

1 Cf. the works of NEUGEBAUER and VON FRITz cited below.

2 Discussions of this influence are cited by ERNA LESKY, Herm. 80, 1952, 250, 5. On the
date of Alcmeon: L. EDELSTEIN, Am. Journ. Phil. 63, 1942, 371, and W. JAEGER, Aristoteles
Metaphysik. Oxf. 1957 in the apparatus to 986 a 29 f.
3 H. DILLER, Herm. 67, 1932, 14.
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Despite his great importance, Alcmeon is by no means unique. Scanty as our

knowledge is, we cannot doubt that there were technical treatises in prose in the
late archaic period. We are still able to form some conception of such a man as
Menestor of Sybaris, who lived about the same time as Empedocles. He wrote
on botany, and like Alcmeon he made a dualism of opposites the basis of his
system.
Just like the sciences, historiography in the later sense of the word first arose
among the Greeks and from very diverse beginnings. For a long time their
mythology served the Greeks for history, and it took a long, hard struggle, not
fully successful before Thucydides, to replace the mythological interpretation
of the past by one that was critical and rational. It was not simply a matter of
something true and right replacing something wrong and false. In fact those
very elements of Greek thought which were already to be found on the mytho-
logical level became of vital importance for later developments.! It is quite
conceivable in itself that the Greek epics contained a good deal of historical
material, although often altered almost beyond recognition. But nevertheless
all the events of epic are treated as occurring in a definite spatial and temporal
setting widely separated from that of the narrator. Furthermore a start had been
made, within this setting, to tie the events and personalities together into a
temporal sequence by means of genealogical cross-links. By this means two great
myth-cycles were brought into a firm chronological sequence: Diomedes and
his charioteer Sthenelus, fighting before Troy, are made the sons of heroes who
took part in the expedition of the Seven against Thebes. But more important
than all else, epic poetry was already looking beyond the unique and individual
happening and asking what relevance it had in the world as a whole, asking also
after the causes and the connections of things, and looking for some ultimate
meaning in the course of events. Homer is in this sense the ‘father of history’;
and here again he is a beginning.
We come up against another of the springs of Greek historiography when we
trace the history of the word itself. We start with the root vid, meaning ‘to see’.
We first find the word forwp, which signifies one who has seen a thing and can
relate it as an eye-witness. Thus history ((éaropi7) first means relating something
and vouching for it by ocular testimony. But in a wider application it ceases to
be confined to immediate personal experience: the knowledge may be won by
the questioning of witnesses. The latter are of course not of equal value, and
their reports may conflict. Thus here, just as in the domain of the natural
sciences, the object becomes the establishment of truth by rational criticism.
Once again Ionian Asia Minor takes the first steps along the road which Thucy-
dides was to follow to its end.

" Cf. w. SCHADEWALDT, ‘Die Anfinge der Geschichtsschreibung bei den Gricchen’,
Die Antike 10, 1934, 144; now in Hellas und Hesperien. Zurich 1960, 395. K. DEICHGRABER,
“Das griech. Geschichtsbild in seiner Entwicklung zur wissenschaftlichen Historiographie’.
In: Der listensinnende Trug des Gottes. Gdttingen 1952, 7. K. V. FRITZ (v. inf.). B. SNELL, ‘Die
Entstehung des geschichtlichen Bewusstseins’. In: Die Entdeckung des Geistes. 3rd ed. Ham-
burg 1955, 203 (cf. Eng. ed. p. 191).
218
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

The normal vehicle for such collection and evaluation of testimony is prose:
first of all a prose which makes no pretence to ornament, which lets the facts
speak for themselves.’ The simple and straightforward manner that is most
common is the appropriate expression of the intellectual process by which the
facts that present themselves are taken and strung upon a thread of narrative.
Since this manner of seeing and reporting things first developed in Ionia, the
earliest prose is written in the Ionic dialect even outside the normal Ionic-
speaking areas, e.g. by Alcmeon of Croton.
Nowhere could this kind of reporting be more fruitfully prosecuted than on
travels in foreign lands. The Ionians of Asia Minor carried their colonizing and
trading activities very far afield, but travels like those of Hecatacus and Hero-
dotus were probably taken deliberately for the sake of knowledge. The great
importance which knowledge of foreign countries had for nascent Ionian
historiography led to two of its most important ancillaries: geography and
ethnography.
Since most sailing in antiquity was coastwise, practical considerations soon
led to the description of voyages undertaken. The situation and distance apart
of harbours and rivermouths, navigational hazards, watering-places and the
like had their obvious utility. But the men who made these journeys were
Greeks, who had their eyes open, and their interest often went beyond the
merely practical. It was above all the nomos, the manners and customs of foreign
peoples, that held their interest, and we shall later have to consider how far
the development of Greek thought was influenced by such observations and
comparisons.
The most common form of such descriptive accounts was the periplus, a
description of the coast seen from the ship in the sequence enjoined by the
course of the voyage. This form was used by Scylax of Caryanda to describe
the voyage which he took in the service of Darius I towards the end of the sixth
century from the Indus to the Arabian Gulf. The scanty remains still let us see
how wide his geographical and ethnographical interests were. He is said to have
written other descriptions of coastlines, but he has nothing whatever to do with
the Pseudo-Scylax — a name given to a description of the Mediterranean coast
drawn up about the time of Philip II of Macedon. Roughly contemporary with
Scylax was the old periplus which can still be partly reconstructed from the Ora
Maritima of the late Latin versifier Avienus. The author, who probably hailed
from Massilia (Marseilles), wrote an accurate account of the coast from Tartessus
to Massilia. The same colony appears in connection with one Euthymenes who
in the late sixth century wrote a periplus describing his journey from Massilia
to the west coast of Africa. The competition of the naval powers in opening up
new coasts becomes obvious when we hear of the navigation of the Cartha-
ginian Hanno about the same time. His periplus was written in Punic, but we
have a Greek translation of Hellenistic date.
In considering the various factors contributing to the rise of historical writing,
1 #, FRANKEL, ‘Eine Stileigenheit der friihgr. Lit.” GGN 1924, 63; now in Wege und
Formen friihgr. Denkens. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 40.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

we found no reliable indication that annalistic records, such as we find among

other peoples, played any special part. There are indications of the compilation
of annals in certain places (e.g. Samos), but we have no means of dating such
works reliably. But it does deserve consideration that Charon of Lampsacus,
who wrote after the Persian wars, in addition to two books of Persian history
(Ilepouxd) wrote four books entitled “Qpar Aapipaxnvav. This may have been a
literary writing-up of old yearly chronicles (épox). But Greek historiography
certainly does not originate in the compilation of annals.
A striking indication of the unity of cultural life in archaic Ionia is that the
natural philosopher Anaximenes as well as the geographer Hecataeus could be
reckoned pupils of Anaximander. All three came from Miletus, the centre of
Ionian spiritual life: Hecataeus belonged to the old nobility of the city. At the
time when he appears as the counsellor of the Ionian revolt, he must have been
an old man. His proposal that the costly votive offerings of Croesus to Apollo
Didymaeus should be used for the construction of a fleet expressed the rational-
ism that we shall find embodied in his work.
He widened his view of the world by travel. His Egyptian journeys are the
best known to us, mainly through Herodotus’ second book. We read there (143)
the invaluable account of the meeting between two civilizations of different
antiquity: Hecataeus with his sixteen generations of ancestors, going back to a
god, was outdone by the Egyptian priest who could reckon his ancestors back
through 345 generations!
Hecataeus drew a map of the world (ys wepiodos), in which he took over
from Anaximander the ultimately oriental notion of a disc with Ocean flowing
round its edge. As early as Herodotus (4. 36) the notion was ridiculed. The
Mediterranean and Black Sea formed an east-west axis, the Nile and the Ister a
north-south axis, thus dividing the world into four neat quadrants. We must
suppose that the map was filled in with details taken from the various periploi or
from Hecataeus’ own experience. Thus here again we find speculation and
empiricism side by side. The map was accompanied by a description of the
earth in two books — a work later usually cited as his Periegesis. The method was
a periplus of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea starting from Gibraltar,
following the northern coast as far as Phasis and then returning by the southern
coast. He sometimes included the hinterland in his purview also. Mostly one
geographical fact followed another in dry sequence, but here and there detailed
ethnographic information attested the keen interest of the Ionians in such matters.
In Herodotus 2. 70-73, where various peculiar Egyptian customs are described,
including crocodile-hunting, we seem to catch very clearly the tone of Heca-
taeus’ simple, flowing narrative.

1 The question is handled with proper reserve by F. JACOBY, Atthis. Oxf. 1949, 176. H.
STRASBURGER, Saeculum 5, 1954, 398.
2 As an illustration of the style: K. LATTE, Entretiens sur Vantiquité class. 4. Vandceuvres-
Geneve 1956, 5, I, seems to be right in rejecting a conjecture in JACOBY fr. 217 which would
sane in a relative clause. In the surviving fragments Hecatacus has only relative adverbs of
place.
220
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

A wish to collect and digest all kinds of knowledge also led him to compile
four books of genealogies (eveaAoyiar). He did not lead the way towards a
rejection of the myths: rather he modified them here and there on rationalistic
grounds. Cerberus he held to be a formidable serpent in Taenarum, which
had been nicknamed the hound of hell; the cattle of Geryon, which Heracles
drove back from the ends of the earth, are located on the Ambracian Gulf;
the fifty daughters of Danaus are reduced to a more credible number — about
twenty. Such rationalism as this destroyed the charm of the old myths without
deriving any history from them. But we cannot deny that the same critical
spirit, which is here wasting itself on unsuitable material, was capable later of
inspiring effective historical research. Hecataeus’ chronology was probably
constructed on the same basis of generations which had already been established
in the epics. He seems to have adopted a period of forty years as an average
generation.
Hecataeus and other forerunners of Herodotus appear generally as ‘logo-
graphers’ in histories of literature. Herodotus calls Hecataeus ‘logopoios’ (2.
143; 5. 36, 125), which means no more than that he wrote in prose instead of
writing epic. Thucydides (1. 21) speaks of “logographoi’, contrasting their
methods with his own: he means essentially Herodotus.
Hecataeus does not stand alone. Dionysius of Halicarnassus (de Thuc. 5) gives
an imposing list of old writers of the history of particular lands and peoples.
Charon of Lampsacus we have met before. Dionysius of Miletus, who wrote yet
another Persica, is a very shadowy figure. About a generation later than Heca-
taeus came the hellenized Lydian Xanthus of Sardes, the son of one Candaules;
he wrote a history of the Lydians (Avévaxa) which went on being read for a long
time and was excerpted in the Hellenistic period. The Mayc«d, on Persian reli-
gion, may have been part of this work or a separate book: we cannot tell.
We mentioned above (p. 106) Acusilaus of Argos, who made prose versions
of epic poetry. He wrote shortly after Hecataeus, and like Pherecydes used the
Ionic dialect which was the language of archaic prose. He seems to have taken
his subjects from the Greek-speaking east, but his fragments contain nothing
comparable with the powerful critical grasp of Hecataeus. A large fragment
containing the story of Caeneus is preserved in a papyrus.?
Among those who came after Acusilaus was Pherecydes of Athens. The best
that we can do towards dating him is to say that his work (written in Ionic)
must be placed before the Peloponnesian War. At all events it is pre-classical
in form. He made even greater use of the old epics; did not concern himself
with cosmogony, but put in its place various tribal and national myths —
particularly of course those of Athens. In the transmission his work was divided
into ten books. Titles such as Theogony and the like cannot be trusted, since in
this early period there was probably no such thing as a title to a book.3 The main
1 D. PRAKKEN, Studies in Greek genealogical Chronology. Lancaster 1943.
2 Ox. Pap. 13, nr. 1611. F Gr Hist2, 22; cf. L. DEUBNER, Sitzb. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl.
1919/17. ;
3 E, NACHMANSON, ‘Der griech. Buchtitel’. Géteborgs, Hogsk. Arsskr. 47, 1941.
221
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

lines of history for Pherecydes were provided by pedigrees of heroes, which

gave him an opportunity for more of the syncretism which we saw already
at work in the epics. Basically Pherecydes starts the line of development which
leads through later handbooks of mythography up to the Pseudo-Apollodorus:
indeed, until such handbooks came into existence, his work remained a basic
source for all who concerned themselves with the old mythology.

Matter relevant to the beginnings of science will be found in the literature cited
on early philosophy. See further: K. v. FRITZ, ‘Der gemeinsame Ursprung der
Geschichtsschreibung und der exakten Wissenschaft bei den Griechen’ Philo-
sophia Naturalis 2, 1952, 200. 376. B. SNELL, ‘Gleichnis, Vergleich, Metapher,
Analogie und die naturwissenschaftliche Begriffsbildung im Griechischen’. In
Die Entdeckung des Geistes, 3rd ed. Hamburg 1955, 258 and 299 (cf. Eng. ed. p.
227). G. SARTON, A History of Science. Ancient Science through the golden Age of
Greece. Lond. 1953. There is a useful collection of sources (in trans.) with good
bibliog. on all the fields: M. R. COHEN — I. E. DRABKIN, A Source Book in Greek
Science. New York 1948. A. REYMOND, Histoire des sciences exactes et naturelles
dans lantiquité gréco-romaine. 2nd ed. Paris 1955. M. CLAGETT, Greek Science in
Antiquity. New York 1956. In the collective work Histoire générale des sciences.
Paris 1957 the sciences other than medicine are treated by Pp. H. MICHEL, while
L. BOURGEY deals with medicine. G. DE SANTILLANA, The Origins of Scientific
Thought. From Anaximander to Proclus. Chicago Univ. Press. 1961. —- Mathe-
matics: B. L. VAN DER WAERDEN, Erwachende Wissenschaft. Basel 1956. oO.
NEUGEBAUER, The Exact Sciences in Antiquity. Princeton 1952. 2nd ed. Provi-
dence. Brown Un. Pr. 1957. J. E. HOFMANN, Gesch. der Mathematik. Sammlung
Géschen 226. Berl. 1953. G. MARTIN, Klassische Ontologie der Zahl. Cologne
1956. O. BECKER, Das mathematische Denken der Antike. Gdttingen 1957. CH.
MUGLER, Dictionnaire historique de la terminologie géométrique des Grecs. Etudes et
commentaires 28/29. Paris 1958/59. — Astronomy: H. BALSS, Antike Astronomie
(with texts and trans.) Munich 1949. B. L. VAN DER WAERDEN, Die Astronomie
der Pythagoreer. Amsterdam 1951. — Alcmeon: text in VS (24). L. A. STELLA,
‘Importanza di Alcmeone nella storia del pensiero greco’. Acc. d. Linc. 6/8/4.
1939. On the connection between philosophy and early medicine: J. scHu-
MACHER, Die naturphilosophischen Grundlagen der Medizin. Berl. 1940. ERNA
LESKY, Die Zeugungs- und Vererbungslehren der Antike. Akad. Mainz. 1950. On
the periplus: x. GUNGERICH, Die Kiistenbeschreibung in der griech. Literatur.
Miinster 1950. — Ethnography and geography: K. TRUDINGER, Studien zur
Geschichte der griech.-rém. Ethnographie. Diss. Basel 1918. J. 0. THOMSON, A
History of Ancient Geography. Cambr. 1948. 8. H. BUNBURY, A History of ancient
Geography among the Greeks and Romans. 2nd ed. 2 vols. 1960. Fragments of the
early historians with commentary in F. JACOBY, Die Fragmente der griech.
Historiker. 1. Berl. 1923 (repr. with additions Leyden 1957). See also L. PEARSON,
Early Ionian Historians. Oxf. 1939. G. NENCI, Hecataei Milesii fragmenta. Florence
222
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

1954. K. LATTE, ‘Die Anfange der griech. Geschichtsschreibung.’ In: Histoire et

historiens dans l’antiquité. Entretiens sur [’antiquité class. 4. Vandoeuvres-Genéve
1956, 3. J. B. BURY, Ancient Greek Historians. London 1958. GIAMPOLO BERNA-
GozZI, La storiografia greca dai logografi ad Erodoto. Bologna 1961. On their style:
H. FRANKEL, Wege und Formen friihgriech. Denkens 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 62.
Full bibliography in Fifty Years of Classical Scholarship. Oxf. 1954, 177. A.
HEPPERLE, ‘Charon von Lampsakos.’ Festschr. Regenbogen. Heidelb. 1956, 67.
On Xanthus: #. pirrerR, ‘Zwei Erzihlungen des Lyders X.’ Navicula Chilon-
ensis (Festschrift F. Jacoby). Leyden 1956, 66.

K Beginnings of Drama
et RAGE Dy

While the archaic period witnessed a vigorous intellectual life in many different
spheres in the east and west of the Greek world, the mainland remained very
quiet. But in fact developments were there taking place which led to the perfec-
tion of dramatic forms on Attic soil and to the creation of the basic conceptions of
European drama. This was a process of vigorous growth which is unfortunately
known to us neither through the survival of the works themselves nor yet by
clear and comprehensible accounts. Consequently, ever since the age of the
Alexandrian savants, the origins of tragedy have posed one of the most difficult
and most violently disputed problems.'
Modern opinion has been divided on the Poetics of Aristotle. To scholars of
an ethnological bent who come to the problem from the dances and mimicry
of primitive vegetation-rites, his statements seem either false or trivial. But in
recent years a reconciliation has been achieved. All the ethnological material
has its value for what we may call the sub-structure of the drama.” This level
includes particularly the mask as the device to effect that transformation which
is the first requirement of any genuinely dramatic performance. Here also we
find the phenomenon of possession, whereby the man who is trying to imitate
daemonic powers imagines that he finds them within his own breast. All this is
important, but we find it in many places and among many peoples. As a piece
of pre-history it is to be kept distinct from that development which occurred
on Greek soil, which there and only there led to the fulfilment of tragedy as a
work of art, and which, despite all variations in subject matter, has determined
its structure down to the present day.
When we look for the basic features of this development, we face the decisive
question whether we are to follow Aristotle or to reject his testimony. There is
no adequate rejoinder to the simple consideration that Aristotle was in infinitely
closer contact with the things he discusses than we are, and that he certainly did
1 Clear summary in GRANDE (v. inf.) 255.
2 See the article under that title by x. rT. prEUSS, Vortr. d. Bibl. Warburg 1927/28. Berl.
1930, 1. Material from the east in T. H. GASTER, Thespis. Ritual, Myth and Drama in the
Ancient Near East. New York 1950. We should be very careful about assuming ritual as a
previous stage of literary drama. pieTERICH and others are wrong in dragging in the
Eleusinian mysteries in this connection.
piphe
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

not take any less pains to study these problems beforehand than he is known to
have done with the Politics. The decisive question is whether the other indica-
tions can be combined with those of the Poetics to make a consistent and con-
vincing picture. And, as we shall see, this is in fact the case. The element of
theorizing is still quite big enough; but certainly in facing the problem we ought
not to disregard or distort the ancient tradition.
In the fourth chapter (1449 a 9) Aristotle derives the drama as a whole from
improvisation: the starting-point was with the ‘precentors’ of the dithyramb
(of e€dpyovres tov S:0dpapBov). The Greek word may signify the singers who
began or introduced the singing and were thus distinguished from the chorus.
We must think of Archilochus in this role when he prides himself on his ability
to lead (e€dp£ax) the dithyramb even when his senses were reeling with wine
(77 D.). Clearly Aristotle thought that the opposition of chorus and precentor
provided the starting-point for the development of dramatic dialogue.!
The dithyramb - a word which has long defied accurate interpretation and
is probably not Greek — was the song sung in the service of Dionysus. What we
have of Bacchylides under this title (p. 204) shows an already developed artistic
form, which was probably influenced in its turn by tragedy which had been by
then established and partly developed. The history of the dithyramb is full of
changes. We shall shortly have to speak of the process by which it became an
art-form of great potentialities; and later, in connection with Euripides, we shall
have to consider its most mature form, the late Attic dithyramb.
What makes the situation more complex is that Aristotle speaks also of
another precursor of tragedy. It was once concerned, he says, with trivial
subjects and composed in a jocular style; it only attained its full dignity when it
transformed itself out of the ‘satyricon’. Shortly afterwards we read that its
metre was trochaic tetrameter before it was iambic; trochees fitted better with
the ‘satyrical’ and dance-like character of the poetry. A serious difficulty seems
to have been caused as early as Alexandrian times by the report that the inventor
of the satyr-play was Pratinas, whose work comes after that of Thespis. This
led to a peculiar Alexandrian theory of the origin of tragedy, differing from
Aristotle's view: with this we shall shortly have to concern ourselves. But in
reality there is no problem, if we rightly interpret Aristotle’s ‘satyricon’. He
is not speaking of the developed satyr-play, but of an early forerunner of it.
It was driven into the background by the rise of tragedy, and more and more
absorbed by it; finally it would have fallen into oblivion, if Pratinas had not
restored and reformed it. He restored the comical antics of the satyrs to their
rightful place, and did it so effectively that, when the tetralogy was devised, the
satyr-play had a regular position as the closing piece after the three tragedies.
Historical considerations then do not conflict with the Aristotelian view that
satyr-drama was an original element of tragedy, and his view receives consider-
able support from another side. Within Greek poetry the various genres are
clearly defined and rigidly separated. Where tragedy and comedy are concerned,
* The way in which the individuals are opposed to the group in the threnos in Iliad 24
interest in establishing the meaning of this expression.
is also of
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

the closing speech in Plato’s Symposium is a well-known testimony to this

effect (223 d). The possibility that the same writer might compose comedy and
tragedy, which is roundly denied in the Republic (395 a), is here entertained
purely as a theoretical postulate. But the position of the satyr-play from the
earliest times is quite different: it is always written by a tragedian. The two in
fact spring from the same root.
Now how can the statements of the Poetics be reconciled, which give in one
place the dithyramb, in another the satyr drama as the starting-point of tragedy?
We must be grateful that the tradition, so miserly elsewhere, here gives us
the point at which these two lines of development were united. Herodotus
(r. 23) tells us that Arion, so far as anyone knew, was the first man to write a
dithyramb, to name it, and to present it in Corinth. Suidas goes into more detail,
calling Arion the inventor of the tragic manner, and telling us that he was the
first to train a chorus, to sing a dithyramb, to give a title to what the chorus
sang, and to bring on satyrs speaking in metre.! This very late notice has
been strikingly confirmed by a passage in Johannes Diaconus’ commentary on
Hermogenes,* where a statement that Arion presented the first tragic drama
(ris Tpaywdias mpArov dSpaya) is ascribed to the elegies of Solon.
Now it is quite obvious that Arion did not invent the ancient ritual hymn to
Dionysus. His contribution must then be that he raised the dithyramb to an
artistic form of choral lyric. The reports that this happened in the Corinth of
Periander agrees well with what we otherwise know of the tyrant as having
fostered the cult of Dionysus — a cult deeply rooted in popular life. The state-
ment that Arion gave a name to what was sung by the chorus can hardly be
taken otherwise than as meaning that he gave titles to his choral odes. Pre-
sumably then they had a narrative content: this squares well with the later
history of this form (Bacchylides). But the most important point for our re-
construction of the prehistory of tragedy is that Arion had his dithyrambs
performed by satyrs. The point at which dithyramb and satyr-drama converged
is thus quite clearly marked, and the double origin assigned by the Poetics thus
receives historical backing.
Arion may be reckoned one of the creative personalities on the path to
tragedy as an artistic form, and it was not perhaps unjustified if the Pelopon-
nesians contested with the Athenians the honour of claiming tragedy as a native
growth.3
We have seen how integral a part is played in the early history of tragedy by
the satyrs, those blood-brothers of all the various fertility-daemons of different
countries. In consequence the interpretation of the word tragedy as ‘goat-song’
(rpdywv @57) is still the most probable. It is of course rather troublesome that the
satyrs or silens (as they are also called) on pots of the fifth century have horses’

t The unclear Aéyovras in Suidas cannot be taken literally. The chorus sang.
2 Ed. uw. RABE, Rhein. Mus. 63, 1908, 150.
3 Aristot. Poet. 3. 1488 a 29. Pseudo-Plato, Minos 321 a (indirect). JOHANNES DIACONUS
(see the previous note), who says that the controversy could be traced back to Charon of
Lampsacus.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

ears and tails, and that all attempts to find goat-satyrs from the Peloponnese have
been unconvincing. The satyrs of plastic art, with goats’ tails and ears, are
Hellenistic, and show the influence of the Pan type. We cannot go into the
details of this very complex question: it must be enough to say that on various
grounds it is quite credible that satyrs even of the archaic period should have
been described as goats. The father of the satyrs, Papposilenus, always wears a
kind of knitted garment garnished with tufts of hair (uaAAwros yurebv), which in
his high-spirited sons appears in rudimentary form as a kind of furry loincloth
surrounding the phallus. This feature, like the long beard on which every true-
born satyr prided himself, is not proper to the horse, but to the goat. These
satyrs are wild beasts, and are often so designated (O4pes).' Their sexual urges
know no restraint, and it is not the most stupid of explanations when the
Etymologicum Magnum (s.v. tpaywdia) derives the appellation of ‘goats’
from their devotion to the service of Aphrodite.
We should have to give up the preceding interpretation if E. Buschor? were
right in his theory (partly anticipated by G. Léschcke) that the dancing daemons
with fat bellies and buttocks whose antics form the subject of many archaic pot-
paintings are the true and genuine satyrs. But they are nowhere directly so
named, nor is there any other support for the theory, which involves some very
complicated inferences. We cling to the old view which connects such dancers
with the early history of comedy.3
The Hellenistic savants, who reckoned Pratinas as the inventor (in every
sense) of the satyr-play, naturally could not accept tragedy simply as ‘the song
of the goats’. With their general interest in everything primitive and rustic,
they derived tragedy from Attic village customs. Thus they at once took sides
in the dispute between Attica and the Peloponnese about the origin of drama.
‘Tragedy’ they interpreted as ‘the song at the sacrifice of a goat’, or ‘song
competing for a goat as prize’. We find an echo of this Hellenistic theory in
Horace’s Ars Poetica (220). In consequence they made satyr-plays a later inven-
tion than tragedy.
Dithyramb and satyr-play are closely connected with the worship of Diony-
sus. The basic element of transformation came from the realm of a god who took
a different and a deeper hold on men than the gods of the Homeric Olympus.
But the outward features of tragedy also declared its Dionysiac origins. The
principal occasion of tragic drama in Athens was the feast of the Great (or City)
Dionysia, instituted by Pisistratus, in which tragedy occupied the days 11-13 of
the month Elaphebolion (March-April). The feast was in honour of Dionysus
Eleuthereus, whose ancient statue had been brought to Athens from Eleutherae
on the Athenian-Boeotian border. His shrine in the city was at the southern
slope of the Acropolis, where there stood for a thousand years the theatre
of Dionysus* with its many changes in architectural design, including even
a Roman adaptation for shows of wild beasts. The pan-Ionic Dionysus was
* Ichn. 141. 215 (113. 168 PAGE, Greek Lit. Pap. 1).
2 *Satyrtanze und friihes Drama’ (v. inf.).
3 So also HERTER (Vv. p. 240), 13. + PICKARD~CAMBRIDGE (v. inf.).
226
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

celebrated at the Lenaea in the month Gamelion (January-February). This was

the festival of comedy, but from c. 432 onwards tragedy was also admitted to
a limited degree: two tragedies without a satyr-play instead of the complete
tetralogy of the City Dionysia. There are Dionysiac features also in the dress of
the players: the sleeved chiton and the cothurnus, which did not become a
heavy, thick-soled boot until Hellenistic times — originally it was a soft, high-
fastened shoe such as the god himself wore.
But however much in tragedy may be Dionysiac, one thing is generally not:
that is the subject matter. ‘Nothing to do with Dionysus’, was a proverbial
phrase among the ancients, and the various explanations offered of it show that
the question exercised them also. Occasionally the birth of the god or attempts
to oppose him (e.g. Lycurgus, Pentheus) provide the plot, but there is no evi-
dence for a stage of development in which the content of tragedy was essentially
Dionysiac. Thus the statements of Aristotle, while we do not reject them, leave
us puzzled, and we have to supplement them with other information that can
help us to understand the non-Dionysiac character of developed tragedy. Here
again a single notice throws some light on rather complicated processes. Hero-
dotus (5. 67) tells us of the religious innovations of Clisthenes of Sicyon, who
was the maternal grandfather of the Athenian Clisthenes. Being at war with
Argos, he resolved to put an end, if possible, to the cult of the Argive hero
Adrastus in Sicyon. Adrastus had a heroon in the market-place and was honoured
with tragic choruses (tpay:Koto. yopotor) referring to his unhappy destiny.
Clisthenes now brought over from Thebes the cult of Melanippus, Adrastus’
mortal enemy, and appointed feasts and sacrifices to him, but made over the
choruses to Dionysus. There is much obscurity in detail. We have no means of
deciding whether Herodotus meant tragic-choruses in our sense or whether the
word meant to him simply ‘goat-choruses’. But the essential fact is clear. We
are dealing with another example of that religious policy pursued by the tyrants
which in the sixth century so strongly forwarded the cult of Dionysus, the god
of the peasants, the looser of care and grief, the great transformer.” Even though
Herodotus tells us nothing about the content of the choruses which were thus
transferred to the cult of Dionysus, it is clear that his report provides an example
of that union of songs attached to hero-cults with the worship of Dionysus in a
manner that decisively influenced the content of tragedy as it was then develop-
ing. Songs in the worship of heroes were sung in many places: usually they were
laments for their death. This fact explains the considerable part played in tragedy
by the threnos.
We have very uncertain information about an Epigenes of Sicyon, said to
have been the first tragedian and to have had Thespis as the sixteenth (sometimes
the second) in succession after him. We may reasonably suppose that he had
something to do with the innovations of Clisthenes.
Both myth and tragedy were profoundly influenced by the effect which
hero-cults had in making tales of the heroes the normal subject of tragedy. In
t On the date: c. Fr. RUSSO, Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 165, 1.
2 Dionysus was worshipped in Mycenaean times, as the Linear-B tablets show.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

this way the myth, after its epic and choral-lyric phase, entered on its tragic
phase in which poets made it the vehicle of ethical and religious problems.’
Tragedy gained in return by having a type of subject which already lived in the
consciousness of the people as a part of their own history, while at the same time
it gave a distance and perspective to the matters treated which is an invariable
postulate for the greatness of any work of art.
All that we have been able to reconstruct of the development of tragedy so
far is concerned with choral singing. Now we have to consider that decisive
step which led to the introduction of dialogue. We have had hitherto to find
most of our early stages in the Peloponnese, but we now find ourselves once
more on Attic soil. Attempts to trace dialogue back to an early Peloponnesian
stage have been unconvincing: appearance of the so-called alpha impurum in
dialogue metres is unable to support such a theory.”
Some scholars? have supposed that the spoken part originated from the
choral ode by way of a sung dialogue. This theory, however, conflicts with the
general differences in language and style between choral and spoken parts. A
much better interpretation is that which supposes that the dialogue was an
addition from outside, and in fact we have explicit testimony to support such
a view. Themistius (orat. 26. 316 d) gives it as an opinion of Aristotle’s that at an
early stage only the chorus sang, and that the prologue and the speech (pjjars)
were added by Thespis. It is no longer fashionable to doubt the trustworthiness
of Themistius. He paraphrased Aristotle, who obviously knew far more than he
put into the Poetics.* Thus we come to a view which can lay every claim to
internal probability: in the course of its development the choral ode came to
include themes presupposing more and more knowledge on the part of the
audience. It was an obvious step to prepare the hearers for what was coming by
means of a prologue. Similarly a sequence of choral odes dealing with the
various phases of a mythical narrative could be made possible by the simple
device of bringing on a speaker between two odes. The next step was to have
the narrator and the chorus-leader speaking to each other.
The conclusions regarding the development of the spoken part which have
been drawn from the designation of the actor as hypocrites are wholly lacking in
cogency. The interpretation of the word as ‘answerer’ is by no means as sure
as one would infer from the confidence with which it is commonly advanced.5
‘ B. SNELL, ‘Mythos und Wirklichkeit in der griech. Tragédie’. In: Die Entdeckung des
Geistes. 3rd ed. Hamb.1955 (Eng. ed. p. 90).
* E. BICKEL, ‘Geistererscheinungen bei Aischylos’. Rhein. Mus. 91, 1942, 134. G. BJORCK,
Das Alpha Impurum und die tragische Kunstsprache. Acta Soc. Upsaliensis 39 : 1, 1950.
3 See especially w. KRANZ, Stasimon. Berl. 1933. My own reservations: Phil. Woch. 1937,
1404.
+ 1449 a 29. 37; b 4.
5 Cf. A. LESKY, ‘Hypokrites’. Studi in onore di U. E. Paoli. Florence 1955, 409. The same
position with some variations is taken up by H. KOLLER, ‘Hypokrisis und Hypokrites’. Mus.
Helv. 14, 1957, 100. H. SCHRECKENBERG, APAMA. Wiirzburg 1960, 11. The meaning
‘answerer’ is defended most recently by M. POHLENZ, Herm. 84, 1956, 69, I and G. F. ELSE,
“YILOKPITHS”. Wien. Stud. 72, 1959, 75. The latter defends the view which he proposed
earlier (Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 76, 1945, 1), that the term daoxperr}s came into use first when
228
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

It cannot be squared with a fragment of Pindar (140 b), and such passages as
Plato Tim. 72 b lend themselves more to the translation ‘interpreter, explainer’.
Our researches have now brought us up against the name of the first writer
of tragedy of whom we can form any notion — albeit a limited one. In the tradi-
tion there are two distinct views of Thespis discernible.! One makes him the
great innovator, repeatedly styled the inventor of tragedy: he belongs in the
Peripatetic picture of the development, with which the one we have outlined
largely coincides. The other image is of the rustic Thespis, associated with
simple village customs,* whose place in the Hellenistic theory of the rise of
tragedy is owed wholly to his singing for a goat around the Attic villages. His
coming from the Icarian deme (the modern Dionyso) could only assist the rise
of such notions. The story of Icarius, who received the vine-stem from Dionysus
and was murdered by drunken peasants, was dragged in constantly by Hellen-
istic writers on the origins of all kinds of festal customs. This was particularly
emphasized in the Erigone of Eratosthenes, which dealt with the suicide of
Icarius’ daughter and the atonement for his murder. Even Thespis’ famous cart
—a household word ever since Horace (Ars poet. 276) — was explained as a folk-
element in his drama. We have to think rather of the boat-cars of Dionysus or
better of the carts full of merry-makers which drove around during the great
Athenian spring festival.
We have at least one solid and important date in connection with Thespis.
The Marmor Parium (ep. 43), in agreement with Suidas (s.v. Ooms) gives the
61st Olympiad (536/5 — 533/2) as the date when Thespis became the first to
present a tragedy at the Greater Dionysia. That then was the time at which,
under the influence of Pisistratus’ wide-ranging innovations, tragedy became
an integral part of official religious life. This important date can be made a little
more precise, since the fourth year of this Olympiad can be excluded on the
basis of the partially preserved name of the archon on the Marmor Parium. It
is possible that there was a dramatic competition at the time of this first official
presentation, but we have no knowledge of it.
We have one or two titles? and a few verses attributed to Thespis. Our
pleasure in possessing them is diminished by our knowledge that the Peri-
patetic Aristoxenus (fr. 114 W) reproaches Heraclides Ponticus with having put
tragedies of his own about under the name of Thespis.
According to Suidas Thespis at first painted his face with white lead, then
later introduced the buckram mask. This cannot be literally true, since the mask
belongs to the prehistory of drama, but it is quite conceivable that Thespis made
innovations in this field and that these were associated with the introduction of
masks for the actors.

the second actor was introduced. The way in which the Syracusan introduces and explains
the following pantomime in Xenophon’s Symposium (9. 2) illustrates the function which I
think was the original one of the dzoxpuris.
1 g, TIECHE, Thespis. Leipz. 1933.
2 On the ‘Eratosthenic’ theory see K. MEULI, Mus. Helv. 12, 1955, 226.
3 *AOAa emi IeAta 7} DdpBas, ‘lepcis, "“Hideor, [evbevs.
229
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Among the various inscriptional records! of festivals, which serve the function
of official archives, we find a list of winners in the dramatic contests in Athens,
covering both festivals and giving the poet and the comic actor in the sequence
of their first victory. It is hard to say when the list started, but it was somewhere
in the last decade of the sixth century, the first years of Athenian freedom. The
extant remains of the list of victors shows us that Aeschylus had some ten
predecessors. Only a few of these are in any way known to us.
Choerilus is still a very shadowy figure. Ancient lexicographers date his first
presentation in the 64th Olympiad (i.e. the Dionysia of 523-520), and they make
him compete with Aeschylus and Pratinas in the joth Olympiad (499-496).
This occasion remained in men’s minds, since the wooden seats for the spectators
collapsed. We have no reason to doubt these dates, of which the second attests
the earliest known competition in tragedy. Choerilus’ thirteen victories may
also be taken from the records of performances (didascaliae). We confess our-
selves sceptical of his 160 plays: the number could very easily have been cor-
rupted. We know of a tragedy Alope dramatizing an Athenian local legend:
Poseidon makes the heroine the mother of Hippothoon, after whom one of the
phylae was named. The subject recurs in Euripides.
We are somewhat better acquainted with Phrynichus, son of Polyphrasmon.
Suidas credits him with a dramatic victory in the 67th Olympiad, ie. the
Dionysia of 511-508, and it is likely that this victory was carefully recorded,
since it was his first. The same includes the beginning of an alphabetical list of
his pieces, showing many of the themes used in later tragedy. The Egyptians and
Daughters of Danaus have the same titles as two of the plays of the Aeschylean
trilogy from which the Suppliants only survives. Of his Alcestis we are told?
that Euripides borrowed from it here and there. The Women of Pleuron was
concerned with the Calydonian hunt and the fate of Meleager.
More importance attaches to those reports which tell us that Phrynichus also
made contemporary history the material of his dramas. Herodotus (6. 21)
relates that the Capture of Miletus (MiAjtov dAwars),3 which aroused in the
Athenians the most painful memories of the destruction of their kinsmen’s city,
brought the poet a fine of a thousand drachmae and a ban on the play itself.
Miletus fell in 494, and it is likely that Phrynichus submitted the play to the
archon of 493/92. This was Themistocles, and it can hardly be an accident that
we have a second opportunity to connect him with the presentation of an
historical drama by Phrynichus. In his life of Themistocles (5) Plutarch gives
the text of a votive inscription dedicated by Themistocles to celebrate a tragic
victory in 476. At this time he was choregus, and had to bear the costs of pro-
duction and staging, while Phrynichus was the writer of the play. The title is
* PICKARD-CAMBRIDGB, Festivals (v. inf.), 103. We must not forget that here everything
rests on the foundations laid by A. WILHELM in his Urkunden dramatischer Auffiihrungen in
Athen. Vienna 1906.
* Schol. Dan. Aen. 4. 694. The resemblances seem to have been mostly in marginal
scenes; cf. Sitzb. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl. 203/2, 1925, 63. There is little to be gained from 1.
WEBER, Dpvvixou “AAkijoris. Rhein. Mus. 79, 1930, 35.
9 G, FREYMUTH, ‘Zur MiAjrou dAwors des Phrynichos’. Phil. 99, 1955, ST.
230
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD
not given, but we may suspect that it was the Phoenissae, with Themistocles’
great achievement, the victory of Salamis, as its subject. In the hypothesis to the
Persae of Aeschylus we find a valuable piece of information about this play. In
a book on Phrynichus Glaucus of Rhegium had said that the Phoenissae had a
prologue spoken by a eunuch, who prepared the places for a meeting of the
council of state and at the same time related the defeat of Xerxes. This defeat
could only be Salamis, and despite all contrary suppositions!' we can take it that
the piece included a report on the battle and lamentation over the Persian defeat.
It is hard to say in what character the Phoenician women of the chorus appeared.
It has been suggested that they were widows of those slain in the sea-battle, or
perhaps hierodulae. The councillors whose arrival the eunuch is expecting in the
prologue were either mutes or a subsidiary chorus. In Suidas’ list we find also a
Persae with two alternative titles (Ackavou 7) H€poas 7) L¥vPwxKor). Obviously
there is much confusion here, and we must leave it an open question whether we
have here an alternative title for the Phoenissae or something quite different.
If we consider these two historical dramas of Phrynichus’ together with
Aeschylus’ Persae of 472, we can see that the period provided abundant material
for composing dramas of contemporary history. Pericles was the choregus for
the Persae, which reminds us of the double connection of Themistocles with the
works of Phrynichus. It seems quite possible that the occasional application of
tragedy to contemporary history did not occur without influence from some
leading statesman, who wanted either to warn the Athenians by recalling their
past mistakes or to encourage them by recalling their great achievements. But
we must never forget that for the Greeks of that time myth was a part of history:
the distinction has for us a sharpness which it did not have for them.
Pratinas of Phlius has already been mentioned for his greatest achievement,
that reform of the satyr-play in which he embodied the Doric spirit of his birth-
place. From a formless harlequinade he turned it into an artistic form of enduring
qualities. Suidas speaks of 32 satyr-plays and eighteen tragedies. The figures may
be unreliable in detail, but with this poet the higher proportion of satyr-plays
may well be accepted. If we date this reform about 515, our view is supported
by the observations of Buschor,? who has found frequent reflections of satyr-
plays in vase-paintings after 520.
Athenaeus (14.617 b) quotes as from a hyporchema some verses of Pratinas in
which a chorus of satyrs makes a delightfully animated attack on the flute music
of a rival chorus. The god belongs to them alone; he is their master, whom they
follow through woods and mountains with the Naiads: let the flute content
itself with the role of a handmaiden to the art of song. A probable assumption,
although recently disputed, is that these verses come from a satyr-play of
Pratinas and reflect the battle that he fought for this form of drama.3 It is

' p, MARX, ‘Der Tragiker Phrynichos’. Rhein. Mus. 77, 1928, 337. F. STOESSL, ‘Die Phoi-
nissen des Phrynichos und die Perser des Aischylos’. Mus. Helv. 2, 1945, 148.
2 ‘Satyrtinze’ (v. inf.), 83.
3 Thus also £. Roos, Die tragische Orchestik im Zerrbild der altattischen Komddie. Lund
1951, 209, with excellent bibliography but uncertain conclusions.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

usually (and plausibly) assumed that there were two competing choirs. But
A. M. Dale! now thinks in terms of one choir attacking its own flute-player.
We may also feel sure that in the comparison of the flute with a toad (dpuvéos)
there is a pun on the name of Phrynichus.
In the hypothesis of the Seven against Thebes we read that in that year (467)
Aristias the son of Pratinas won second place with the Perseus, Tantalus and the
satyr-play The Wrestlers (HaAavorat) of his father. The passage has commonly
been taken to mean that Aristias, who was himself a playwright and according
to Pausanias (2. 13, 6) had a statue in the market-place at Phlius, took only the
satyr-play from his father. But we now have to take the notice as referring to
all three plays, since a recently discovered papyrus (Ox. Pap. 2256 fr. 2), speaking
of the same victory, says: ‘Second Aristias with tragedies of his father Pratinas.’
The surviving verses of Phrynichus show Ionisms. The poet, who was known
for the soft sweetness of his odes, and who appears in Aristophanes as a handsome
but rather dandified man,? is obviously Ionian in his outlook. He stands in
contrast to Pratinas, the man from Phlius, the friend of satyrs, who in the verses
already quoted makes his speakers call on Dionysus to hear their Dorian song.
We have here an incomparable picture of those two elements and traditions
juxtaposed whose synthesis was to give rise to Attic classical art. The Parthenon
with its Ionic frieze and Doric columns is the impressive symbol of this synthesis.

A. W. PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Dithyramb, Tragedy and Comedy. Oxf. 1927. Id.,

The Theatre of Dionysos. Oxf. 1946 (good introduction to the Greek stage). Id.,
The Dramatic Festivals of Athens. Oxf. 1953. T. B. L. WEBSTER, Greek Theatre
Production, Lond. 1956. AURELIO PERETTI, Epirrema e tragedia. Florence 1939.
M. UNTERSTEINER, Le origini della tragedia e del tragico. Turin 1955. E. BUSCHOR,
‘Satyrtanze und frithes Drama. Sitzb. Ak. Miinchen Phil.-hist. Abt. 1943, 5. F.
BROMMER, Satyrspiele (2nd ed., corrected and enlarged) Berlin r9s9. P. GUGGIS-
BERG, Das Satyrspiel. Ziirich 1947. C. DEL GRANDE, TpaywiSia. Naples 1952. See
also the sections in POHLENZ, LESKY and D. w. Lucas, Greek Tragic Poets. 2nd
ed. Lond. 1959. G. F. ELSE (‘The Origin of Tragodia’. Herm. 85, 1957, 17)
presents a radically different view from ours, rejecting the testimony of Aristotle
and discounting any Dionysiac element in the origins. The beginnings are also
discussed by T. B. L. WEBSTER, ‘Some Thoughts on the Pre-History of Greek
Drama’. Inst. of Class. Stud. Univ. Lond. Bull. Nr. 5, 1958: he seeks to provide
new evidence for the theory that tragedy arose from rites in honour of the vear-
god (propounded first by J. HARRISON and G. MURRAY); cf. id., ‘Die mykenische
Vorgeschichte des griech. Dramas’. Ant. u. Abendl. 8, 1959, 7. G. THOMSON’S
Aeschylus and Athens. 2nd ed. Lond. 1946, repr. 1950, has been translated into
several languages (Germ., Berl. 1957). The first part tries to derive the beginnings
1 Words, Music and Dance. Inaugural Lecture at Birkbeck College. London 1960, 11.
* Aristoph. Vesp. 220, Av. 750, Thesm. 164, Ran. 1298, where his style is contrasted with
that of Aeschylus.
232:
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

of tragedy from initiation ceremonies. K. KERENYI, ‘Naissance et renaissance de

la tragédie’. Diogene 28, 1959, 22 (now also in the volume Streifziige eines
Hellenisten. Ziirich 1960), clings to the testimony of Aristotle and the Dionysiac
connection, but works out the details otherwise than we have done. u.
SCHRECKENBERG, APAMA. Vom Werden der griech. Tragédie aus dem Tanz.
Wiirzburg 1960, follows out through thick and thin the notion contained in his
title. H. PATZER, Die Anfiinge der griech. Tragédie. Wiesbaden 1962. RINSYO
TAKEBE, Wien. hum. Blatt. 4, 1961, 25, draws some interesting parallels with the
development of the Japanese N6-drama.

a COMEDY
In the fourth chapter of the Poetics, in the same sentence in which he traces
tragedy back to the leaders of the dithyramb, Aristotle makes phallic songs the
origin of comedy, and says that such processions with the phallus were a living
custom in many cities in his own time. In the following chapter he declared
that, unlike those of tragedy, the rudimentary stages of comedy remain obscure,
since it was not until much later that the archons granted a chorus for comedy.
This can be confirmed from epigraphical dramatic lists and other evidence. The
true home of comedy was the Lenaea (AvowWova ta emi Anvaiw), the festival
which the Archon Basileus celebrated in the month Gamelion to that Dionysus
who has a longer-established cult in Athens than the Dionysus Eleuthereus of
tragedy. If we want to explain the name of the feast, its connection with
Bacchantes (Ayjvac) is more convincing than that with winepresses (Ayvoé).!
It was long assumed that the festival was celebrated in the shrine of Dionysus
‘in the swamps’ (ev Aduvais), a view supported by Hesychius (s.v. Acuvas), but
Pickard-Cambridge? has shown that there are arguments for assigning it to the
Lenaion in the Agora.
Comedy did not become an officially sponsored feature of the Lenaea before
the mid-fifth century — probably about 442. Provision was made for a contest
not only of dramatists, but also of actors. Since the City Dionysia was by far
the more elaborate festival, the presentation of comedies there became an
official part of the cult much earlier, starting in 486. Contests for the comic
actors were introduced later, between 329 and 312, whereas the tragic actors
had had a competition and prizes at the City Dionysia since 449. The competi-
tion for comic actors, the basis of selection for the coming Dionysia, took place
on the third day of the Anthesteria (February/March) which was called Chytroi.
The practice was re-established by Lycurgus in the third quarter of the fourth
century.
This brief summary of the various relevant dates suggests that comedy was
for a long time the realm of free improvisation. The name itself is a valuable
indication of what it was at first. Aristotle (Poet. 3. 1448 a 37) rightly explains it as
the song of a train of revellers (k@pos), such as were formed above all when the

1 On the so-called Lenaean vases see PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Festivals (v. p. 232), 27-
20 © Oct. 30. 3 [Plut]. Vit. dec. or. 841 f.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

service of Dionysus brought his followers together in wild festivity. But the
false derivation from xaépun (=village), which Aristotle here rejects, and which
was connected with the claims of the Peloponnesians to be the originators of
comedy, has also a grain of truth in it.
We knownowadays of very widespread usages (particularly well describedand
attested by students of folklore) which are all connected with the pre-history of
comedy as a literary form. In this field a great deal has been learned by the study
of paintings and plastic art, without which philological research is very ineffective.
We also owe much to ancient treatises on comedy,! of which several survive
and give us valuable information side by side with much that is rather silly.
Starting with Aristotle, the first thing we hear of is processions with the
phallus, accompanied by appropriate songs. The antics of Dicaeopolis in the
Acharnians (263) are a kind of miniature of what went on at the country
Dionysia (ra kar’ dypods Acovtoua). A fuller picture is given by Semos of Delos,
a Hellenistic writer quoted by Athenaeus (14. 622). Unfortunately he does not
tell us anything about the places in which he had met these customs, but there
can be no doubt that they were widespread. The phallophoroi whom he describes
may well be those of Sicyon. Garlanded with leaves and flowers, they were led
by a youth with soot-blackened face wearing the phallus, and marched into the
orchestra, into which observances of that kind had by then been transferred.
Closely akin to these performers were the ithyphalloi, whose dress included
masks representing drunkenness. Semos has very little to tell us about a third
class of these maskers, the autokabdaloi. All these processions were accompanied
by singing, and it is particularly noteworthy that the phallophoroi used to direct
raillery and abuse towards individual members of the audience.
Our researches have now led us to the Greek carnival — a word which can
justly be used if we trace all these customs back to their original source. There it
was that expression was given to an abounding vitality and every conceivable
rite was performed to stimulate young growth. Obscene raillery directed against
the participants in the festival is a constant feature. We find it in a specialized
form in the Attic spring-festival of the Anthesteria, from which these practices
were taken over into the procession at the Lenaea. Clowns and jesters drove
around in wagons and kept up a lively fire of abuse against the bystanders. The
gross obscenity that characterized this humour has a ritual origin. Behind all the
hearty laughter lay a belief (forgotten by later ages) in the apotropaic power of
obscenity. The Fescennine verses sung at Roman weddings, the filthy jokes which
assailed the triumphant general on the proudest journey of his life, are good
illustrations of this belief. Thus we are able to see that the astounding obscenity
of Aristophanes and with it the strong leaning of Old Comedy towards personal
invective was rooted in ancient and still living usages.
A different view is presented by a seemingly Hellenistic theory? of the origin
of comedy, based on xesyn=Vvillage. Peasants used to come by night into the
city and sing insulting songs outside the houses of citizens who had used them
* Texts in KAIBEL (v. inf.); lists in KORTE (v. inf.) 1212.
* KAIBEL (v. inf.), 12. HERTER (v. inf.), 53. 135.
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 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

ill. The social benefits of this procedure were appreciated, and the peasants were
told to repeat their performance in the theatre. They did so, but concealed their
identity by smearing their faces with wine-lees. This is quite absurd: we have a
theatre before there was any comedy, and the wine-lees as a substitute for a
mask shows that the inventor of this theory took seriously the notion that
trygodia was a name for comedy. In fact it is a facetious formation, punning on
tragoedia and tp¥€=must or lees.' All this is very perverse, but when taken to-
gether with what Aristotle in his Constitution of Naxos (fr. 558) tells us about the
tebuking of the wealthy Telestagoras, it does give us some insight into the
problem. The Greeks had the same kind of popular justice which is known
nowadays from the Italian charivari, as Usener? has taught us to understand it,
to the Haberfeldtreiben of the Bavarian peasants. It is perfectly credible that the
personal invective of comedy, the faux) iS€a, derived its impetus from this
quarter. The activities of begging parties also, like those who “go a-gathering
with the swallow’,3 were associated with abuse of people whom they met, and
we can see from this how in common belief such abuse had a benfiecial effect.
Animals would often be led along with processions of this kind. This brings
us to choruses of men in animal costume, which were once performed in Athens,
according to the testimony of the vases.
What we have found out so far is all concerned with processions, dancing
and singing of choruses, and in fact comedy begins with the chorus just as much
as tragedy does. Its particular function, as we see it in developed form in the
plays of Aristophanes, is the parabasis,‘ its march on to the stage singing verses
of cheerful invective.
This basic element acquired additional features which soon postulate the use
of actors. Of the two best-known of these elements one is the altercation (aycv).
This is a type of scene which is traceable through the literature of many peoples
and countries:5 it occurs in many forms in Greek. Here, as with the parabasis,
we find the first developed example in Aristophanes. Since in both cases these
are found in epirrhematic syzygy (cf. p. 251) itis an easy inference that the agon
developed in very close connection with the chorus. Possibly the evolution began
as altercation between choruses or semichoruses.°®
There is a clear distinction between the agon and the episodic scenes. These are
much less closely connected with the chorus, and have repeatedly invited
comparison with the adventures of Punch and Judy. Here again we are luckily
able to form some conception of the contexts from which such scenes originally
come. Athenaeus (14. 621 d) has preserved a description from the Laconian
Sosibius of the Spartan deikeliktai, who acted in everyday language such scenes
' kK, KERENYI, Symb. Osl. 36, 1960, 5 has shown good grounds for taking zpvé as lees.
2 ‘Ttalische Volksjustiz’. KI. Schr. 4. 356.
3 Hesych. s.v. xeAdovarai, and see the 35th sermon of St John Chrysostom, cf. RADER-
MACHER (v. inf.), 7.
4 On the meaning of the word see HERTER (v. inf.), 31. POHLENZ (v. inf.), 42, 18.
5 RADERMACHER (Vv. inf.), 23.
6 T. GELZER, ‘Der epirrhematische Agon bei Aristophanes’. Zet. 23. Munich 1960, devotes
an appendix (p. 187) to the origins of the epirrh. agon.
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 HISTORY, OF GREEK VITERAT URE

as the stealer of fruit or the travelling quack. In the Anabasis (6. 1) Xenophon
describes various miming dances, including the so-called karpaia of Aeniae and
Magnesia: one man represents a peasant sowing and driving his team, another
a robber attacking him; they fight in rhythmic movement to the sound of the
flute. Finally the victor drives off the loser together with the team. A third
example is afforded by the Corinthian crater in the Louvre’ which on one side
depicts two men caught stealing wine and on the other their imprisonment in
the stocks. The figures have fat bellies and buttocks and the phallus is larger than
life-size. The actors are certainly human, as is shown by the group of a flute-
player and dancer with obvious masks. These paunchy figures represent daemons
of fertility. Like the satyrs, they embody to ancient Greek eyes the growing and
fertilizing forces of nature.
Our evidence has led us largely onto Dorian soil, partly supporting the claims
of the Dorians in Aristotle (Poet. 3. 1448 a). We may add further the Megarian
farce, whose obscenity, compared with their own work, was often remarked on
by Attic comedians — hardly with perfect justice. The influence which this
Megarian improvised drama supposedly exerted on Attic comedy seems to
have been embodied by ancient theory in the person of Susarion, a poet of
whom we otherwise know nothing. The Dorian farce was probably a drama of
stock figures much more than the political comedy of Athens. We know the
names of two of them — Maeson and Tettix, the cook? and his assistant. Another
offshoot from this Dorian stem was the ‘phlyax farce’3 of lower Italy, which
later (c. 300 B.C.) was given a sort of literary existence by Rhinthon of Syracuse
as Hilarotragodia. There are few fragments, but a great number of phlyax pots,
which mostly depict travestied myths. The well-stuffed paunches and posteriors
of these figures, together with the use of the phallus, make them obviously akin
to the paunchy figures which we saw on the Corinthian crater. It must be
admitted that the great confidence with which it used to be assumed that a
strong Doric element had gone into the making of Attic comedy has recently
been shaken somewhat. The difficulty is mainly that we have no material to
date Doric farce earlier than Attic comedy.* The possibility of influence is not
thereby ruled out, but in general one must approve of the modern tendency to
interpret Athenian comedy as a native growth.
Alfred Kérte has put forward a theory of the origin of Attic comedy which
has received much attention.’ He thinks that the indigenous Attic chorus which
' M. BIEBER, History of the Greek and Roman Theater. Princeton 1930, fig. 84 f. Biblio-
graphy in HERTER (v. inf.), note 33 f.
On this personage see A. GIANNINI, ‘La figura del cuoco nella commedia greca’. Acme
Te OOD may.
3 L. RADERMACHER, ‘Zur Geschichte der griech. Komédie’. Sitzb. Ak. Wien. Phil.-hist.
Kl. 202/1, 1924. Bieber op. cit. 258.
4 L. BREITHOLZ, Die dorische Farce im griech. Mutterland vor dem 5. Jahrhundert. Hypothese
oder Realitat? Stockholm 1960. His scepticism is shared by T. B. L. WEBSTER, Gnom. 33,
1961, 452.
’ E.g. RE 11, 1921, 1221. The opposite views: BUSCHOR (v. inf.) and HERTER (v. inf.).
KORTE’s theory is supported by POHLENZ (v. inf.) and by T. B. L. WEBSTER, Wien. Stud. 60,
1956, L10.
236
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

performed various mumming dances, usually in animal costume, received the

addition of actors who came from the Peloponnese, bringing with them the
dress of the pot-bellied Dionysiac figures. Recent researches have thrown
doubts on this theory. Buschor has been able to produce from Attica representa-
tions of such dancers from the first half of the sixth century, and we must face
the question whether such representations do not have a genuine Attic sub-
stratum. Herter has objected to the over-sharp division between chorus and
actors in comedy. We have in fact to consider the possibility that the paunchy
figures belonged to the chorus as dancers. On the other hand, simple scenes are
found represented in the dance even nowadays: in the ring dances of Alpine
countries we still find Sosibius’ itinerant quack, now working as a dentist.
Xenophon’s account also attests the linking of such primitive dramatization
with the dancing of a chorus. The difficulty of deciding whether the costume of
the actor had already been in use in the chorus is heightened by our ignorance
of the chorus’ costume in Attic comedy. From Plutus 295 we learn only that
the chorus sometimes wore the phallus, which could hardly be combined with
the usual animal masquerade. In general we should imagine the costume of the
chorus as brightly coloured and capable of easy change. The chorus may some-
times have been attired as phallic pot-bellied dancers: with our defective know-
ledge we can neither affirm nor deny it. As for the comic actor, the pots and
terra-cottas make it plain that he normally wore the grotesque padding called
the somation and had the phallus. It is impossible to say whether this costume
had its origin in the ithyphallic choruses of the Athenian comic stage, as Herter
thinks: but certainly in the last resort it goes back to the Peloponnese and thus
to a Dorian origin. This supports Kérte’s thesis, but the limitations of our
knowledge call for great caution.
The elements out of which Attic comedy grew are rather loosely linked
together even in their classic exponent Aristophanes. In the archaic period there
was no unifying treatment at all: only the joyous spirit of the Dionysia tied
together the heterogeneous parts. The development which led to unitary treat-
ment is connected by Aristotle (Poet. 5. 1449 b) with the names of the Sicilian
poets Epicharmus and Phormis, who are supposed to have influenced Attic
comedy. We can lay stronger emphasis on the native Athenian contribution
than he does, while not excluding Sicilian influence.!
In another passage (1448 a 33) Aristotle says that Epicharmus lived a good
while before Chionides and Magnes. Chionides won the victory at the first
official contest in comedy at the City Dionysia in 486. One of the eleven
victories of Magnes is dated to the Dionysia of 472. Thus the beginning of
Epicharmus’ activity is to be put in the sixth century.* However, he was famed

Influence from this quarter is posited by B. GENTILI, Gnom. 33, 1961, 338, against EB.
wtst, Rhein. Mus. 93, 1950, 337:
aT. B. L. WEBSTER, Gnom. 33, 1961, 453, gives up the dating of Epicharmus before
Chionides and Magnes. But if we suppose that he lived from about 550-460, we need not
sacrifice any of the various data. B. GENTILI, Gnom. 33, 1961, 338, also supposes a Sicilian
comedy which had attained some development by the end of the sixth century.
I 237
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

in antiquity for his long life, and survived until the time of Hiero, with whom
he is connected in many anecdotes. Epicharmus (fr. 88 K.) speaks very respect-
fully of a predecessor, Aristoxenes of Selinus, of whom we know practically
nothing. But his coming from a Megarian colony squares well with our notices
of Doric farce in Megara, and may not be accidental.
It is hard to see what his main features were and to assign them a place in the
development. The first difficulty is that he is named by Aristotle and others as
contributing to the development of comedy, yet his plays are not referred to as
comedies, but as dramas (Spdjara). Thirty-seven titles are known to us, and
together with the few fragments they point to great variety in his dramatic
production. Travesties of myths seem to play an important part: we saw that
this material recurred in the phlyax farces. In both Heracles is a favourite figure:
a true Dorian Heracles, a clumsy bull of a man, who displays superhuman powers
also in eating, drinking and wenching. This is brought out very clearly in the
Marriage of Hebe (“HBas yépos)! with its lists of delicacies and in the Busiris,
where an astonished onlooker describes the hero’s noisy enjoyment of his victuals.
Heracles’ Journey to fetch the Girdle of Hippolyte (‘HpaxaAjjs 6 emt tv Cworhpa) and
Heracles’ Visit to Pholus ((HpakAjs 6 rapa DdrAw) occur among the titles. Epi-
charmus was fond of bringing Odysseus onto the stage. Among his various
adventures his spying expedition into Troy was made the subject of a happy
comedy (Odvaceds adtépodos), in which the crafty hero tries to wriggle out of
the difficult task. This guess at the subject matter has been rather shaken by the
new papyri. The view hitherto current, propounded by Kaibel, was built
mainly on the verses of a papyrus in Vienna (fr. 99 K. so Oliv.) which were
construed as a soliloquy of Odysseus in anxious reflection. But now Pap. Ox. 25,
1959, 2429, with seven fragments of a commentary on the play, shows that the
verses were in fact part of a dialogue. B. Gentili? thinks that it may be a conversa-
tion of Odysseus with a companion, possibly Diomede, in which a plausible
story is being devised for the Achaeans to explain the failure of the undertaking.
The new Epicharmus papyri include (in Pap. Ox. 25, 1959, 2426) the remains
of a catalogue of his plays. The list seems from the fragments to have been
in trimeters, which reminds us of Apollodorus of Athens, who drew up his
Chronica in verse. We may suspect that the same man was the author or the
source of the commentary mentioned above.
The fragments of this catalogue give us a variant form of a title already
known (Ipopaéeds 7} Mvppa) and also an ’Odvaceds vavayds (the restoration
seems fairly certain). Another new item is a MzjSeca; the only comedies of this
title previously known were by Dinolochus of Syracuse or Agrigentum (a poet
in the tradition of Epicharmus) and Rhinthon of the Hilarotragodia.
Pap. Ox. 25, 1959, 2427 has part of the Prometheus or Pyrrha with the remains
of a dialogue between Pyrrha and a partner, presumably Deucalion, concerned
with the ark which was to save them in the flood. This rekindled an old prob-
‘ Among the new papyri those fragments collected under Ox. Pap. 25, 1959, 2427 con-
tain one (tr. 27) that may be from the “Has ydyos, although the Modoa can also stake a
claim to it. 2 Gnom. 33, 1961, 336.
238
 THE ARCHAIC PERIOD

lem: Kaibel' was the first to conclude from the Amycus that Epicharmus used
three actors. Lobel, who has edited the papyrus, and Gentili want to draw the
same conclusion from the fragment of the Pyrrha. But Webster has made a
tentative reconstruction of the very fragmentary passage which avoids any such
inference. We are in the dark here, since there is no clear indication anywhere
that Epicharmus could not have used more actors. Epicharmus was also a keen
observer of everyday life. It is extremely interesting to know that he used stock
characters which are familiar to us from the later development of Attic comedy,
as the parasite in Hope, or Riches (’EAmis 7) [lAodros) and the rustic ninny (’Aypw-
otivos). We find also the altercation, which we met as one of the primitive con-
stituents of Attic comedy. One piece is entitled Earth and Sea (V4 kai @dAacoa),
and another Mr Argument and his Wife (Adyos kai Aoyiva), names which remind
us of the contest between the just and the unjust argument in Aristophanes’
Clouds. There is no indication of personal invective, but the fragments are
exceedingly varied. Side by side with ribald portrayals of Heracles (which,
however, fall a great deal short of the obscenity of Attic comedy) we find
echoes of the epics; then again Heraclitus’ doctrine of universal flux is used for
an amusing story of a debtor and creditor each trying to cheat the other by
maintaining that they are not the same men they were yesterday. Sometimes
(e.g. fr. 170) one almost has the feeling of being at a Platonic dialogue. Plato in
fact had a very high opinion of Epicharmus (Theaet. 152 e). His pieces are
particularly rich in concise apophthegms: like Menander’s, his were made into
collections, and naturally this opened the door to large-scale forgery.
We can only understand this many-sidedness if we think of the dramas of
Epicharmus, like the comedies of Aristophanes, as works that make many pre-
suppositions of their audience. They borrowed a great deal from Doric popular
farces, much also from the intellectual movements of their time. Above all,
they were rich in that mimic element which had its especial home in the Greek
west, certainly not without influence from Italy.
In their formal aspects too the fragments are very varied. Doric drama made
use of the trimeter and trochaic tetrameter of the Ionian iambos. Here the
fragments show a freedom which Attic comedy denied itself in this metre:
dactyls are often found in the first five places. But two pieces, the Dancers
(Xopevovres) and the Victory Celebration (’Emuwixwos), were entirely written in
anapaests. This brings us to an old problem. We find the language of actors
well developed in Epicharmus long before the Attic writers. Whether there
were three actors is disputed, as we have seen. But did these plays have a
chorus? Not normally, it would seem; but titles such as The Dancers, the use of
anapaests, and the probability that in The Sirens these ladies served as a chorus
playing opposite Odysseus have made scholars more cautious and less ready to
deny that Sicilian comedy ever used a chorus.”

1 KAIBEL, RE 6, 1907, 37. GENTILI, Gnom. 33, 1961, 334. WEBSTER, Serta Philologica
Aenipontana. Innsbruck 1961, 88. ae
2 Cf. HERTER (v. inf.), 57- 176. Titles suggesting use of a chorus: Choreuontes, Epinicius,
Sirenes, Musae, Bacchae, Comastae, Dionysi, Persae, Troiani. Those who deny the chorus rest
239
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

We can only spare a glance at the continuation and development of the mimic
elements in Epicharmus in the hands of Sophron, whose mimes Plato kept under
his pillow. Like Epicharmus, Sophron worked in Syracuse: he flourished about
the middle of the fifth century. Of his ‘mimes of men’ and ‘mimes of women’
we can only mention The Women who Said They would Drive out the Goddess
(Tuvaikes at trav Jeov pavti e€ehav).! We shall meet Sophron again as a model
for Theocritus, and in other connections we shall be able to speak of the very
long-lasting influence of these realistic prose portrayals of everyday life.

A. KORTE, RE 11, 1921, 1207. H. HERTER, Vom'dionysischen Tanz zum komischen

Spiel. Iserlohn 1947. M. POHLENZ, ‘Die Entstehung der attischen Komédie’.
Nachr. Ak. Gétt. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1949, 31. L. RADERMACHER, Aristophanes’
Frosche. 2nd ed., by w. Kraus. Sitzb. Oecst. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 198-4, 1954.
T. B. L. WEBSTER, Greek Theatre Production. London 1956. — The ancient treatises
on comedy and the fragments of Epicharmus and Sophron: G. KAIBEL, Com.
Graec. Frag. 1/1. Berl. 1899 (repr. Berl. 1958). Epicharmus: VS 23. A. OLIVIERI,
Frammenti della comm. greca e del mimo nella Sicilia e nella Magna Grecia. 1. Framm.
della comm. dorica siciliana. 2nd ed. Naples 1946. 2 and 3: Framm. della commedia
fliacica. Framm. del mimo siciliano. 2nd ed. Naples 1947. Pseudo-Epicharmus:
J. U. POWELL, Collectanea Alexandrina. Oxf. 1925, 219. The new texts: Pap. Ox.
25, 1959, 2426-2429. 2428 is probably Doric comedy, but cannot be certainly
assigned to Epicharmus. On these papyri see B. GENTILI in Grom. 33, 1961, 332.
T. B. L. WEBSTER, ‘Some Notes on the New Epicharmus’. Serta Philologica
Aenipontana. Innsbruck 1961, 85. E. SIEGMANN, Lit. griech. Texte der Heidel-
berger Papyrussammlung. Heidelb. 1956, ascribes Pap. Heidelb. 181 to a comedy
Heracles by Epicharmus.
on an argumentum ex silentio: those who affirm it do so without evidence. In consequence
certainty seems not likely to be attained. T. B. L. WEBSTER in his study of the new Epi-
charmus fragments (v. inf.) thinks it possible that the poet developed ‘from the anapaestic
recitative ballet to the spoken iambic dialogue’.
* A papyrus fragment with bibliog. in Gow, Theocritus 2. Cambr. 1950, 34. PAGE, Greek
Literary Papyri. Lond. 1950, 328. A small fragment with Doric prose: Pap. Soc. It. 14, 1957,
1387.

240
 CHAPTER V

The Flowering of the Greek

City State

A Beginning and Culmination of the Classical Period

Leo BSCHYTUS
The great classical age of Athens is bounded by two wars. The Peloponnesian
war did not only end the political supremacy of Athens; it brought the collapse
of the inner sources of strength which had powered the Periclean age. And the
unchaining of this strength, after a long period of gradual ripening, had been
the work of the heroic struggle which the Greek people had to wage for its
political and cultural existence.
Before the battle of Marathon ~ so the legend has it — the Athenian messenger
sent to implore Spartan aid was returning unsuccessful. As he toiled through
the lonely Parthenion range, Pan appeared to him, promising help and friend-
ship to Athens. In the battle a figure in a peasant’s smock was seen slaying
Persians — the hero Echetlus, so named from the ploughtail which grew from
the soil of his birthplace. When all was in the balance at Salamis, a supernatural
light shone over Eleusis, home of the mysteries; and from Aegina armed and
gigantic forms stretched out their hands over the Athenian ships. Herodotus
(VHI 109) makes Themistocles express what was in every mind after the
victory: ‘It is not we who have wrought this, but the gods and heroes.’
This was the age that moulded Aeschylus. Pausanias first (1. 14, 5) and many
since have noted how significantly the epitaph which Aeschylus wrote for
himself makes no mention of his writings, but only of his having fought against
the Persians. He was at Marathon, where his brother Cynegirus fell, at Salamis,
and in other lesser battles of the Persian war.
In the same passage of Herodotus Themistocles goes on to say that the gods
helped the Greeks because they were unwilling that one man should rule both
Europe and Asia — a man of sinful ambition, who had set himself up against the
gods and the elements. There are many connecting links between Herodotus
and Aeschylus, and the words of the victor of Salamis chime in well with the
spirit of the great dramatist. His work is not full of pride and jubilation over the
victory, nor yet of delight in the clash of arms, but of the profound emotion of
one who has seen the working of Justice in the historical process. There is
evidence much earlier of the central position which the concept of justice
occupied in Greek thought: Aeschylus comes at one of the climacterics of its
development. Justice, which he had seen in action in the most violent scenes of
his life, appeared to him as an ever-present divine power.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The attempt has repeatedly been made to contrast in Aeschylus the religious
thinker and the poet, or the poet and the theologian. With Aeschylus as with
Sophocles this procedure stems from a fundamental error: it destroys a unity,
to understand which is to understand the works themselves.
Aeschylus was born in 525/4, the son of a well-do-to land-owner called
Euphorion in Eleusis.! We have no evidence for the view that the great mysteries
of his native place had any influence on his mental development. The sphere of
the mysteries, in which, according to Aristotle (fr. 15), teaching was less stressed
than self-surrender, is to be sharply distinguished from that of tragedy, whose
object is ultimately Adyov S:Sdvar, to describe and explain the position of man
in the universe. There is more reason to believe the story (fairly well attested)
that Aeschylus was put on trial for impiety as having divulged the mysteries,
but was acquitted as having given offence unwittingly, without in fact knowing
them.
He began to compete in tragedy at an early age; we have already (p. 230)
mentioned the contest of the 7oth Olympiad (499/496) in which he competed
against Pratinas and Choerilus. His first victory is given by the Marmor Parium
as 484. Twelve more were to follow. The figure of 28 given by Suidas, assuming
the transmission to be correct, may be explained by supposing posthumous
presentations to be included.
We have no knowledge of the motives which impelled the poet in the prime
of his life to go to Sicily and the court of King Hiero. The ancients amused
themselves with suppositions, but in fact no special explanation is needed to tell
why the most distinguished poet of his age should have accepted an invitation
to the court ofagreat ruler.* Very probably he gave a second performance there
of the Persae, which had brought him victory at Athens in 472. We may well
think that this was a very suitable piece for the court of Hiero, who wielded the
sword for the western Greeks. The king was particularly concerned for his new
foundation, the city of Aetna, which was founded in 476-475; although it was
not until final victory over his enemies in 470 that Hiero established his son
Dinomenes there as king. It was then that Pindar lauded the young state in the
poem which we now call the First Pythian, and that Aeschylus composed his
Aetnae> to celebrate the occasion. A papyrus fragment (Oxyrh. 2257, 1) gives us
the end of a hypothesis which has been very plausibly referred to this play. The
possibility of its belonging to the spurious drama of this name, which we find
in the manuscript catalogue, is very slight. It is very striking that the play is said
to have been divided into five parts, each of which had a different setting, only
the first and third being in Aetna. One of the most remarkable of the new
Aeschylus fragments brings in Dike, coming among men at Zeus’ command,
' Biographical material in wI1LAMOwiIT2’ larger ed. The MS. life probably goes back in
essentials to the life by Chamaeleon, early 3rd cent. B.c.
? On Aeschylus’ connections with Sicily: M. BocK, ‘Aischylos und Akragas’. Gymn. 65,
1948, 402.
3 The transmission suggests either Afrvac or Alrvaiar, but cf. POHLENZ 2,200. On the
new papyri: E. PRAENKEL, ‘Vermutungen zum Aetna-Festspiel des Aesch.’. Eranos S25
1954, OL.
242
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

to lead them to wealth and happiness. It is difficult to resist Eduard Fraenkel’s

conjecture that this verse came from the Aetnae. If this is so, the morceau d’occasion
must have been ennobled by Aeschylus’ religious philosophy of Zeus and Dike.
Shortly after, Aeschylus was in Athens again, since in 468 he was beaten for
first place by Sophocles. The next year, however, he was victorious with the
Theban trilogy, and in 458 again with the Oresteia. We do not know why he
returned again to Sicily. A passage in the Frogs of Aristophanes (v. 807) gives
us at least a suggestion: he was disgusted with the Athenian public! He died in
Gela in 456-455, where his tomb became a place of pious pilgrimage for the
servants of the tragic Muse. The Athenians honoured his memory with a singular
law which permitted anyone who so wished to enter for the dramatic contest
with plays of Aeschylus. His finest monument, however, is the Frogs of Aristo-
phanes. This comedy of literary criticism has all the fanciful bizarrerie of
Aristophanic humour; but beneath the grotesque trappings we see the outlines
of a great portrait, which is worth more to us in forming a picture of Aeschylus
than any collection of anecdotes.
Greek art in its heyday never sought to deny that it was craftsmanship raised
to its highest and noblest form. Artistic ability in Athens often ran in families,
and the tragedians are no bad example. Both the sons of Aeschylus, Euaeon and
Euphorion, wrote tragedies. The latter, according to the hypothesis of the
Medea, defeated both Euripides and Sophocles in 431. A nephew named
Philocles was also a tragedian: according to the hypothesis to the Oedipus Rex
his play was preferred to this masterpiece. From him the inheritance of genius
fell on Morsimus and Astydamas, and on their sons Astydamas II and Philocles
Il, all four tragic writers.
The manuscript catalogue of Aeschylus’ plays gives us 73 titles, from which
we must exclude the spurious Women ofEtna. We know of seven more, bringing
the number to 79. Suidas speaks of 90. From all this profusion we have only
seven tragedies, which we may reasonably assume to be those which found
refuge in the schools of the Antonine period, when living interest in classical
tragedy was no more.
It has been long known that the transmission has grudged us any early work
of Sophocles and Euripides. With Aeschylus, it was thought, we were better
off: the Supplices took us back before Salamis; perhaps we could even put
it before Marathon. This confident theory has been badly shaken by a new
papyrus text (Oxyrh. Pap. 2256, 3) — the remains of a didascalia in which the
trilogy containing the Supplices is mentioned together with plays of Sophocles.
Now we know that Sophocles’ first victory was in 468, and was also his first
presentation. The papyrus says that Aeschylus was victorious; thus the Supplices
cannot have been presented in 468 or earlier, nor yet in the next year, in which
Aeschylus won with the Theban trilogy. Hence we are brought down very late:
1 4. LESKY, ‘Die Datierung der Hiketiden und der Tragiker Mesatos’. Herm. 82, 1954, I.
Bibliog.: AfdA 7, 1954, 135 and 12, 1959, 10, where one can gain an idea of the controversy.
See also E. A. WOLFF, ‘The date of Aeschylus’ Danaid Tetralogy’. Eranos 56, 1958, 119;
57, 1959, 6.
243
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

indeed, if we can accept that it is necessary to complete the existing traces of

letters by filling in the name of Archedemides, archon in 463, we must date the
play in that year. Naturally, so late a dating was not immediately acceptable.
The Supplices seemed too archaic for 463, and the period for developing to the
masterly Oresteia of 458 far too short. But the supposition that this was a second
presentation ofthe piece does not agree with the wording ofthe didascalia; while
the alternative supposition that Aeschylus let the piece lie and did not present it
until long after its composition, is an extension of modern literary practice to
antiquity. Hence there is a growing willingness to accept the express testimony
of the papyrus rather than pay so high a price to maintain a date which rests on
the doubtful assumption that artistic development proceeds uniformly in a
straight line. In any case, a glance at the Seven against Thebes of 467 will destroy
the doubts about accepting the new date of the Supplices. The seven pairs of
set speeches in the Theban drama are as archaic as anything in the surviving
tragedies.
The consequences of the new dating are far-reaching. If we set aside the
doubtful dating of the Prometheus, the oldest surviving play is the Persae of 472.
Since we know that Aeschylus began to compete in the early 490’s, it follows
that his early work is a closed book to us, and we first meet him when he is over
fifty. Hence we must suppose his early tragedies to have been very simple, and
the extent of his development from the early to the mature period to have been
far wider than was supposed when the Supplices was dated very early. “The
creator of tragedy’ is the title given to him by Gilbert Murray in his fine work
on Aeschylus; and our new knowledge underlines it. At the outset of his career
Aeschylus had only one actor at his disposal, and it was a great advance when he
added a second. This innovation is attributed to him by Aristotle (Poet. 1449 a 16),
who says that he lessened the role of the chorus and made dialogue the domina-
ting element. It was a long road that led from the choric song with speeches
here and there to the marvellous trilogy-structure of the Oresteia. The new
discovery allows us to be more confident in declaring that the thematic relation-
ship of the components of a trilogy was not an original feature, but was the
crowning touch of the new artistry that Aeschylus put into the shaping of
tragedy.! The evidence for this view is found in the play which now has to rank
as the oldest of those surviving.
In 472 Aeschylus was victorious with a tetralogy made up of the tragedies
Persae, Phineus and Glaucus Potnieus and the satyr-play Prometheus Pyrcaeus. We
must suppose the Phineus to have had as its theme the episode in the Argo-
nautica in which the blind king is rescued from the persecution of the Harpies.
The Glaucus Potnieus, like the Glaucus Pontius (a quite different play), is one of
those for which we now have some fragments recently discovered; but they do
not take us beyond the barest outline of the subject matter — the death of
Glaucus, torn apart by his own horses. For the Prometheus Pyrcaeus, which shows
the fire-bringer among the satyrs, we have a valuable access of knowledge.
™ On the problem as it used to be: P. WIESMANN, Das Problem der tragischen Tetralogie.
Ziirich 1929.
244
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
There can be little doubt that a papyrus fragment! with parts of asong sung by
satyrs in praise of fire comes from this piece.
It is palpably vain to try to establish any unity of subject matter between this
satyr play and the rest of the tetralogy; and the attempts to find a thematic
connection between the three tragedies are so at variance one with another that
they only underline the absence of any such link. The other surviving plays
were all parts of trilogies linked by a common theme: many of these? are known
to us by name as the work of Aeschylus. Can it be pure accident that the
tragedies with the earliest known date should refuse to be linked by any such
unity? It would be rash to conclude that by 472 Aeschylus had not invented the
thematic trilogy; but we can at least feel sure that the lack of any connection
between these plays points to a time when no thematic link was demanded.
We have already spoken of the Phoenissae of Phrynichus, presented in 476.
We proceed now from the assumption there made that the Persian defeat at
Salamis was the theme of the earlier drama also. At once a considerable advance
in dramatic technique is visible: in Phrynichus the defeat is narrated by the
eunuch who appears as prologue, but in Aeschylus the news of disaster is
brought in the course of the action. Not only does this impart more movement
to the play, but it also enables Aeschylus to present scenes full of gloomy fore-
boding under an ever more threatening and stormy sky — a technique of which
the fullest mastery was to be shown in the Agamemnon.
On the other hand, the influence of the earlier drama can be seen here and
there. Aeschylus begins with the entry of the chorus, made up of Persian royal
councillors. At the end of the parodos a council is proposed, but is delayed by
the entry of the queen mother, and never takes place. Further, the nature of the
‘old building’ (v. 141 oréyos apyaiov) in which the discussion will take place is
quite uncertain. Probably these anomalies come from the influence of Phry-
nichus’ Phoenissae, in which the eunuch at the beginning sets out stools for the
councillors. Such survivals are not significant: what is important is that we
recognize in the structure an extended climax, beginning with the gloomy hints
of the opening chorus, going through the Atossa scene with the account of her
dream, the messenger’s speech describing the battle (the finest description of
Salamis) and the raising of Darius’ ghost, to the closing scene which brings the
wounded Xerxes in person onto the stage and brings the whole play to an end
in wild oriental lamentations. It is this climactic composition which must defend
the poet against the charge of having written the play in three unconnected
acts.2
What is new in this play is not merely the advanced dramatic treatment of
what in Phrynichus was a long-drawn series of lamentations. Aeschylus has
often been commended for the fact that he celebrates for all time his country’s

1 Ox. Pap. nr. 2245 (fr. 343 M.). For a bowl in the Ashmolean Museum showing Pro-
metheus among satyrs, with fire in a narthex-cane: J. D. BEAZLEY, Am. Journ. Arch. 43,
1939, 618. 2 SCHMID 2, 188, 8.
3 WILAMOWITZ, Aisch. Interp. 42. K. DEICHGRABER, ‘Die Perser des Aisch’. Nachr. Gott.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1/4, 1941, 155.
2 245
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

finest hour without any trace of narrow national hatred. This is the natural
consequence of the fact that the poet’s mind passed beyond the concrete his-
torical event to its significance in the totality of a universe ruled by divine
justice.
In the anapaestic parodos and the first stasimon we find such just a collocation
of themes as recurs in the opening of the Oresteia. We are given an over-
whelming picture of the Persian power that set out to destroy Greek freedom.
The technique of presentation is archaic: name after outlandish name of cities,
countries and generals sounds in our ears, making by sheer repetition the
impression of size and strength. Yet everything is overshadowed by the anxiety
expressed in the opening verses. The obvious first purpose of this catalogue is
to delay the arrival of news; but as the stasimon continues a deeper purpose
becomes visible: in this very excess of power and ambition which the expedition
embodies lies the greatest possible danger. Just as the hymn to Zeus in the first
stasimon of the Agamemnon seeks the ultimate significance of human fortunes
in a region far above the visible and sensible, so here Aeschylus speaks dark and
difficult words of the deception and infatuation sent by God, which no mortal
can escape. We are told of Ate; and here we meet a conception which in
tragedy, particularly Aeschylean tragedy, is a basic feature of the philosophy of
life. We have no single word for it: there are really two aspects, which the
Greeks of that time saw as a unity. From the gods’ point of view, Ate is the doom
that they pronounce on mortals: to man it is the spiritual blindness which at
first flatters and encourages him, but gradually deludes his senses, and finally sets
him on the path to his own destruction.
What is merely hinted at in the opening chorus is made explicit in the scene
by the grave of Darius. This scene shows us two sides of Aeschylus’ creative
genius. The ancient sepulchre on whose summit the dead king appears, the
chorus that sinks trembling to the ground, Atossa who in this terrible hour tries
to speak with her husband across the gulf of the grave — all this combines to
produce a stage scene of extraordinary power and effectiveness. We cannot
know precisely what stage-effects were at the poet’s disposal, but his skill in
deploying the available means is obvious. Sophocles worked quite differently,
relying on the spoken word and its content, while Aeschylus and Euripides,
although in different ways, allowed great importance to the stage-effect as such.
On one side this scene displays Aeschylus as master of the stage; on the other as a
religious thinker. The words of the Great King make clear to us the significance
of what we are witnessing. The description of the Greek victory reveals itself
as a reflection of God’s power. This is not the self-praise of a jubilant victor:
enquiry into the cause of the catastrophe finds the solution in a conception
deeply rooted in Greek thought, but which finds peculiar expression in Aeschy-
lus. The disaster which has overtaken the Persian kingdom is shown as the result
of that basic sin which the Greeks called hybris. The man upon whom Ate is
come crosses over the bounds laid down for him, disturbs the ordering of the
world, and must fall at last, the victim of his own blindness. So had the Persian
empire passed the measure allotted to it, and the hybris of this expedition found
246
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

visible form in the sin of Xerxes, who reversed the order of the elements,
turned sea into land, and chained the Hellespont in the fetters of his floating
bridge. Salamis was the first part of the penalty, and Platacae, to which Darius
prophetically alludes, is to be the second.
The notion that Zeus punishes overweening ambition is one which Aeschylus
shared with most of his people. But in this scene a different and darker concep-
tion is sustained; when a man is inflamed with ambition, Zeus goads him on
(v. 742). On the path to his own destruction man finds in God a ready helper.
The singular notion of a god who helps men to sin is left here in relative
obscurity: not until the Oresteia is it to be fully expounded.!
Aeschylus’ reported words have often been quoted— that his tragedies were
scraps from Homer’s banquet.? It is the subject matter to which he alluded, but
meaning it in a wider context than that of our Iliad and Odyssey. In the fifth
century many more poems were credited to Homer, among others the Thebaid:
and it was no doubt to this that Aeschylus felt himself indebted when he wrote
his Theban trilogy, which he presented in 467.
Here a close thematic unity between the three tragedies and the satyr play is
declared in their titles: Laius, Oedipus, Seven against Thebes and Sphinx. But there
our knowledge of the lost parts virtually ends. The main lines of the myth
cycle may be supposed to have provided the plots — Oedipus killing his father
and marrying his mother, bringing sorrow on himself and the world in his
ignorance, Oedipus from his incestuous couch laying the curse on his sons, that
they would divide their kingdom by the sword.3 Here, as often elsewhere,
attempts to establish more precise details of the content and structure of the lost
plays are quite fruitless.4
There is, however, a passage in the Seven which gives at least the main theme
of the lost plays: everything that happens in them arises ultimately from the
curse laid upon the royal house of Thebes. This curse, as we are told in a decisive
passage (v. 742), grew out of an ancient, inexorable punishment for guilt - a
punishment which has now reached the third generation. Three times did the
Delphic god warn Laius against begetting a son: but man disregarded God’s
law, and fell into sin which reproduces itself in each succeeding generation. The
verses which bear so much stress at the end of the trilogy reveal Aeschylus’ view
of the family curse as self-perpetuating sin.
The opening of the Seven against Thebes allows such problems to stay in the
background, and transports us at once into the agitated city awaiting the
decisive onset. The opening speech of Eteocles speaks eloquently of the serious-
ness of the hour, and his words are powerfully reinforced by the report of a
scout on the enemy’s preparations. In considerable sections of the play Eteocles
t Tt will be plain that I do not share the low opinion of Aeschylus as a religious thinker
which one finds in D. L. PAGE (his edition, Oxf. 1957, p. xv.) and H. LLOYD-JONES, ‘Zeus in
Aeschylus’. Journ. Hell. Stud. 76, 1956, 55.
2 Athenaeus 8. 347 ©.
3 On the legend: F. DIRLMEIER, Der Mythos von Konig Oedipus. Mainz 1948.
4 B. sTOESSL, Die Trilogie des Aisch. Baden b. W. 1937. On the Oedipus: L. DEUBNER,
Sitzb. Berl. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1942, 40.
247
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

is set before us as the prince responsible for the defence of his own city. His first
words are of the duties of the man who stands at the helm of the state - a
familiar image which we meet again in the development of the drama. In this
metaphor of the ship of state we have a particularly clear specimen of Aeschylus’
use of leading themes in his imagery."
The chorus of Theban women rushes wildly onto the stage to seek refuge
at a common altar (or group of altars) of the city’s tutelary gods. Eteocles
rebukes the extravagance of their anxiety; as a man he reproves women who
panic, as the ruler those who endanger his work. More subdued, but still in
passionate entreaty the chorus pours out its prayers in song. Then follows the
middle part of the play, a long dialogue (over 300 lines) in archaic style between
Eteocles and the scout, who has returned with fresh news. This great structure
includes seven pairs of speeches, in which the scout describes the champions
who are to assault each gate, while Eteocles gives instructions for counter-
measures. Attack and defence take shape before our eyes. The poet deliberately
leaves us uncertain how far Eteocles had posted defenders for each gate in the
period after his first entrance.”
When the Theban trilogy was shown, the Persian wars were fresh in Athenian
memory; and beleaguered Thebes must have seemed a symbol of Athenian
danger. This may explain the unusual fact that the attackers are called ‘foreign
speaking men’ (170, cf. 72), contrary to the legend.
The judgment of Gorgias on the Seven, that it is ‘full of Ares’,* is well
known, and Aristophanes makes it clear that this was the common opinion.
But this judgment does not penetrate below the surface. Neither Aeschylus
nor any other great writer of his nation was a lover of war for its own sake.
This fact is witnessed by the great distance to which the Trojan war is relegated
in the Agamemnon. That man fulfils one of the highest potentialities of his being
when he defends his native land was a theme that Aeschylus knew how to
adorn; and it is thus that he depicts Eteocles. But this is only one side of the
character: the other comes terribly into view in the last pair of speeches. At the
seventh of the gates which the scout describes Polynices is to deliver his assault.
He prays the gods of Thebes for the fall of the city; a boastful device on his
shield proclaims his coming return to power. Eteocles is at first seized with
despair over the race accursed of the gods, in whom the curse of Oedipus is now
to find its fulfilment. Then he takes his decision: at the seventh gate he himself
will meet the attacker — prince against prince, enemy against enemy, brother
against brother. This battle also will be a battle for his city’s freedom, but it has
another and a frightful aspect. It must be a battle of blood-relations, in which

" J. DUMORTIER, Les Images dans la poésie d’Eschyle. Paris 1935. O. HILTBRUNNER, Wieder-
holungs- und Motivtechnik bei Aisch. Bern 1950.
2 Thus A. LESKY, Wien. Stud. 74, 1961, 7, against E. WOLFF, Harv. Stud. 63, 1958 (Fest-
schrift Jaeger), 89. Wolffis also opposed by K. v. FRITZ, Antike und moderne Tragédie. Berlin
1962, 201.
° H. LLOYD-JONES, however, Class. Quart. 1959, 85, 3, thinks that this refers to their
speaking a different dialect.
* Plut. Quaest. Conv. 715 e. Aristoph. Ran. 1021.
248
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
victory will be fratricide. In this double aspect a basic feature of Aeschylean
tragedy presents itself forcibly. Human actions involve danger, and lead con-
stantly to the way from which there is no return, in which the action dictated
by necessity, obligation and duty at the same time involves the deepest guilt.
The scenes which now follow between Eteocles and the chorus, in which, for
all the inner movement, the sung verses of the women and the spoken lines of
Eteocles are bound into a strong antiphony, reveal in full the problems of
the central character. Behind the patriotic defender of his city we see the son of
Oedipus, driven by his father’s curse to set out to kill his brother.
There is another element visible in this scene which will be of importance in
interpreting the Oresteia. Man is under the appalling necessity of acting, and
knows that his action must involve destruction. But once he accepts the necessity,
he surrenders his own will to it: he does not merely accept the need for action,
he rushes upon it. Compared with the opening of the play, Eteocles and the
chorus have now exchanged roles. The chorus persuades and advises ~ ‘child’
(réxvov) is its form of address to the ruler — while Eteocles defends his rigid
determination. The chorus declares (686. 692): ‘In you yourself lies the impulse
towards that which comes upon you as fate; by your own will you rush on what
you fear’. The attempt has recently been made to set aside as irrelevant the
words of the chorus,! to whom Eteocles’ character and motives are unknown;
but it is wrong thus to close one’s eyes to the contradiction seen by Aeschylus
in human actions.
Earlier we understood Homeric psychology as being the inseparable weaving
of human motivation and divine direction. The problems of fate, responsibility
and action in Aeschylus are far deeper rooted, but they root in the same ground.
Another feature, not peculiar to Aeschylus, but common to all true tragedy,
is that Eteocles knows well that he is treading the path to his own destruction.
He speaks powerfully of the darkness that encompasses a man whom the gods
have abandoned: to the suggestions of the chorus that he should pray and
sacrifice, he replies: ‘The gods do not trouble with me any longer. Gifts from
me, the condemned to die, cause them only surprise’.? His last words, before he
goes to his death, are: ‘Such evils as the gods send, man cannot escape’.
The following choral song, as so often, covers a great interval of time. We
may suppose that this device, so useful in tragic composition, survives from the
time when the intervening speech of the single actor served only the purpose
of setting the scene for a new choral ode.
A striking feature of Aeschylean composition, which is found likewise in the
Oresteia, is the contrast between the expansive opening sections, which set the
tone of the drama, and the dramatic, quickly moving latter sections, speedily
coming to their goal. Thus we have here a short messenger’s speech telling of
the deaths of the brothers at each other’s hand, leading to the final kommos over
their bodies.
1 Thus u. PATZER, Harv. Stud. 63, 1958 (Festschr. Jaeger), 114. K. V. FRITZ, op. cit. 214.
2 The interpretation of v. 703 is difficult. It is taken quite differently by (e.g.) H. J. METTE,
Glotta 39, 1960, 59.
249
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The end of the play, as we have it, is dramatically developed by the introduc-
tion of Antigone and Ismene. There also appears a herald from an assembly of
probouloi, forbidding the burial of Polynices as traitor to his country. Antigone
declares her opposition, and so prepares the way for new grief.
This ending has been the subject of much dispute.’ To me it seems impossible
that it should be genuine. To say nothing of particular difficulties, it seems
unthinkable that Aeschylus should have ended his trilogy with the opening of
a new conflict. We know that his plays were re-staged later, and it would be
quite understandable if the plot were thus amplified by thematic elements
derived from Sophocles’ Antigone. Murray? supposes the true text to end at
v. 1005. It remains an open question whether Antigone and Ismene as mourners
are an invention of the redactor or not.
The Suppliant Women (Supplices, Hiketides) is the first play of the Danaid
trilogy. We have already seen why, despite earlier datings, it should now be
placed after the Theban trilogy. The most important actor is here the chorus of
daughters of Danaus, who under their father’s guidance have fled from the
pursuit of their suitors, the sons of Aegyptus, and are now seeking protection
in Argos. The large role of the chorus is conditioned by the story: it is not, as so
long thought, a proof of extremely early date. We must also bear in mind that
we have here the first part of a trilogy, as in the Agamenmon. Both there and
here we notice the asymmetry of construction which we saw in the Seven. Here
it is heightened further: the majestic choral odes of the first part set forth the
themes not only of the play, but of the whole trilogy.
The legend speaks of fifty Danaids — the same number as that of the dithy-
rambic chorus, which Pollux (4, 110) gives as the number of the primitive
tragic chorus. While the Supplices was being reckoned as an early work, it was
natural to assume a chorus fifty strong, although this did indeed presuppose a
very well filled stage. The chorus of Danaids, each of whom in the closing
scenes has her attendant handmaiden, the king’s suite, the Egyptians in sufficient
strength to carry off the Danaids — all this makes a chorus of fifty seem improb-
able. All this overloading of the stage can be forgotten with the new dating: for
the Supplices, as for the rest of Aeschylus, we have to reckon with a chorus of
twelve. This number is discernible in the first part of the Oresteia, where the
old men argue and hesitate before the fatal doors. The increase of the chorus to
fifteen is ascribed to Sophocles, and we know that Aeschylus, although he
followed the younger writer’s lead in using a third actor, made no use — or
could make no use - of the enlarged chorus.
We know a little more about the staging of this play than of the others. The
stage had a raised section containing a common altar with symbols or repre-
sentations of several gods. It can hardly be by coincidence that in the plays
before the Oresteia we find a simple podium type of structure at the edge of the
orchestra or of that part of it which was away from the spectators. This structure
' Bibliography in SCHMID 2, 215, 5. POHLENZ 2, 46. For recent work see the appendix to
this section under the Septem.
2 Anticipated by BERGK and WILAMOWITZ.
250
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
can represent the acropolis of Thebes with sculptures of the gods, or the grave
of Darius, or even the background for the staging of the Prometheus story.!
It is this altar — to be imagined as outside Argos — that the chorus makes for
on its first entry. They relate in sweeping and majestic strains the sorrows of
Io,? the ancestress of their line, who came from that Argos where they now
seck refuge; they sing of their own fears and troubles, and of their hope of
divine help. In the middle of this great ode they sing the praises of Zeus, the
god who brings all things to their appointed ending, brings vain ambition to
nothing, and accomplishes all his purposes without effort.
Urged by Danaus, the chorus mounts the elevated altar area, and from there
carries on the long and animated conversation with the king of Argos, who has
learned of the arrival of the foreign ships. The conversation lasts a long time,
giving both sides opportunities for question and answer, and leads steadily up
to a dramatic climax. The heightening of tension is reflected in the formal
aspects: the entreaties of the chorus turn into a choral ode, while the doubts and
hesitations of the king are still in dialogue metre, thus producing the type of
alternation known as epirrhematic structure.
The role of the king provides a further example of that tragic compulsion
which we have found to be Aeschylus’ basic problem in human life. To receive
the Danaids means war with their Egyptian pursuers, sacrificing the lives of his
citizens: but to reject them would be to offend Zeus who jealously guards the
rights of suppliants. The decision must be made, but either course involves evil
— this is the theme of the king’s complaint, conveyed with the greatest richness
of illustration. It is hard to reach a decision, until one is forced by the Danaids’
threatening to hang themselves on the images of the gods, and thus to bring
an irremovable reproach upon the city. The king yields; but his will must be
confirmed by a decree of the citizens — prehistoric Argos was run on democratic
lines! This passage, in which the king’s decision must be ratified by a popular
vote, is a particularly striking example of the way in which tragedy sees the
heroic age through the spectacles of the city-state.
The text enables us to infer the stage-management. Before leaving, the king
asks the maidens to descend from the altar onto the ground, or in other words the
chorus comes down now into the orchestra, so that it can dance to its following
choral ode. Danaus has favourable news of the meeting, and the chorus expresses
its thanks in a song of benediction on Argos. But soon new troubles arise: from
his high position the old man sees the Egyptian ships landing, and runs into the
city for help. This provides an adequate motive for the maidens’ being left
alone; but in fact the dramatist had no choice. Aeschylus was still restricted to
two actors, and both are needed in the following scene between the Egyptian

I H. KENNER, Das Theater und der Realismus in der griech. Kunst. Vienna 1954, supposes a
more elaborate stage equipment. The stage building (skene), he thinks, was brought in
fairly early. See his bibliography.
2 R.D. MURRAY JR., The Motif of Io in Aesch. Suppliants. Princeton 1958, not without
some rather forced interpretation of the text, points out the relevance of the Io-story to
the situation of the Danaids.
251
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

herald, who with his men-at-arms seeks to drag the maidens from the altar, and
the king, who sends him back to his ship after strong condemnation of his
actions and threats of the consequences. Now nothing hinders the reception of
the Danaids into the city. They form a procession with their handmaidens, and
leave the stage singing antiphonally with them."
It is easy enough to trace the outline of the action; but difficult to evaluate the
content of this play. It is not merely that this is the first part of a trilogy whose
continuation we do not know; the text itself has sufficient problems for us.
Why do the maidens flee so fearfully from the pursuit of their suitors? The
king, in his long conversation with them, elicits no good reason. What is the
meaning of the verse (admittedly corrupt, but restored with tolerable certainty)
in which the Danaids sing of their ‘self-begotten shunning of men’ (adtoyerns
¢véavopia)? The old interpretation that they mean an inborn fear of men is
exposed to grave doubts. If the words mean nothing more than that the decision
to flee came from their own hearts, our understanding of the whole is not appre-
ciably advanced. It is the final scene which is most instructive in this respect.
The importance attached to its content by the poet is shown by his elevating the
handmaidens, hitherto silent, to the status of a second chorus. We hear again
the pleas of the Danaids that they may escape forced wedlock, and that the
virgin Artemis may look on them with a kindly eye. But the chorus of hand-
maidens dwells on a different theme: they pay due honour to Aphrodite, who
shares with Hera, the goddess of marriage, the place in heaven immediately
below Zeus himself. The Danaids seek to know what is right: the hand-
maidens already know — to submit oneself to the will of god.
The play first shows us the fate of the Danaids, their desperate plight and the
insolence of their pursuers. Then we are shown another side: the flight of the
maidens is at the same time a revolt against a great law that runs through the
divinely ordained world, bidding man and woman come together. Again
human actions are shown in an obscurity that only the divine grace can illu-
minate.
We can know very little of the way in which Aeschylus managed the prob-
lems of this play in the remaining parts of the trilogy, the Egyptians and the
Danaids.? In the second part, despite their being received into Argos, the
Danaids are in a position where they must at least appear to consent to a union
with their hated suitors. We may suppose that this situation is the outcome of a
battle in which the tragic role of the King of Argos ends in his death. This play
must also have contained the plot of the Danaids to murder their husbands on
their bridal night. This would make it impossible for the sons of Aegyptus to
* There must then have been a subsidiary chorus. C. VAN DER GRAAF, Munem. 10, 1942,
281 (now followed by r. p. MURRAY op. cit.), supposes that in the last scene the chorus
divided itself into Danaids and attendants: but even for an audience so ready to suspend
disbelief this would have been rather too much.
* K. V. FRITZ, “Die Danaidentrilogie des Aeschylus’. Phil. 91, 1936, 121. 249;
now in
Antike und moderne Tragodie. Berlin 1962, 160. KRAUS (v. inf.), 117. POHLENZ
liege ae
M. L. CUNNINGHAM, ‘A Fragment of Aesch. Aigyptioi?’ Rhein. Mus. 96, OKI,
DB. ieee
Ox. Pap. 20, nr. 2251 as referring to the death of the Argive king. ;
252
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
be the main chorus despite the title.! Presumably the Danaids themselves were
again the main chorus, with the sons of Aegyptus as sub-chorus — the role sus-
tained by the serving-maids in the first play.
The third play, the Danaids, began with the morning after the fatal marriage-
night. The surviving information suggests two possible themes for the develop-
ment. One is the story of Hypermestra, briefly related by Aeschylus in the Pro-
metheus (865 sqq.). She alone of her sisters opened her heart to compassion and
love, and spared her bridegroom. Her action was severely censured, but she be-
came the mother of a line of Argive kings. It has been supposed that the guilt of
this Danaid in disobeying her father’s advice and betraying the common plan
caused her to be put upon a formal trial. This would square very well with the
appearance of Aphrodite herself in the play (fr. 44 N.), making an elaborate
speech declaring her power as being that of the cosmic Eros which brings about
the sacred wedlock of heaven and earth. It may however be objected that at
this stage Aeschylus did not have the machinery necessary for staging a formal
trial-scene like that in the Eumenides. But at all events it cannot be doubted that
Hypermestra’s action was discussed and harshly judged. The speech of Aphro-
dite could very well serve to defend her even without a formal trial: equally
well it could fit into the alternative theme which could have ended the trilogy —
the purification of the Danaids and the overcoming of their aversion from
marriage. Their punishment in the underworld — carrying water in a leaky
vessel — belongs to a different context and to a later stage of mythology. It is
noticeable that this trilogy, full of wrongs and suffering, ends with the reconcilia-
tion of conflicting elements in the great divine ordering of the universe. The
same we know to have been true of the trilogy to which the surviving Prome-
theus Vinctus belonged, and a similar reconciliation distinguishes the Oresteia.
Some of the lost trilogies also may be suspected to have had endings in recon-
ciliation. We shall return again to the question of the significance that this feature
has for Aeschylus’s view of the world and of the nature of tragedy.
If we next choose the Prometheus Vinctus for consideration, this must be be-
cause the Oresteia marks the supreme height of Aeschylus’ achievement in his
surviving work: it does not presuppose anything about the date of the play,
about which we have no reliable information. The description of Etna is not an
accurate indication, since this celebrated natural phenomenon could perfectly
well have been known to Aeschylus before he ever set foot in Sicily. But in
many respects a later date would be acceptable, and recent attempts? to date it
after the Oresteia cannot be lightly dismissed.
The nature of the subject produces a striking and novel stage effect. The
Titan Prometheus is the friend of man, to whom he taught the use of fire and
saved him from perishing — a traditional theme which in this play is overlaid
with a picture of Prometheus as a universal culture-hero. Zeus’ plans are thwarted,
and he has the offending Titan fettered to a rock on a solitary mountain at the

1 We cannot be sure that the individual titles in the trilogy were given by Aeschylus.
2 E. C, YORKE, Class. Quart. 30, 1936, 153. H. J. ROSE, Eranos 45, 1947, 99 thinks differ-
ently.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

world’s edge. The piece opens with the discharge of these commands by He-
phaestus with his attendants Kratos and Bia (Power and Violence). In their dia-
logue the compassion felt by the god is strongly contrasted with the ferocity of the
demon Kratos. Prometheus remains silent, and does not open his lips to bewail his
lot until the others have left. All the rest of the play is a series of scenes in which
the chained Titan shares the dialogue with various personages who visit him.
The chorus of Oceanids comes to him on winged cars,! full of tender compas-
sion for the victim of such cruelty; Oceanus himself arrives on a flying creature,
and gives worldly-wise advice, which shatters on the rock of Prometheus’ resis-
tance. The next scene sees Io rush frenziedly upon the stage, driven abroad in
wandering anguish by Zeus’ love and Hera’s hate. Prometheus tells her what
awaits her in the future, and in so doing shows the bond that unites them both,
as those who have suffered the most as Zeus’ victims. On the banks of the Nile
Zeus will touch her with his finger and restore her to peace, and make her the
mother of the race which at some time through the flight of the Danaids will
come to Argos. From this race Heracles will be born, who will end the sufferings
of the Titan. As Io departs, Prometheus tells the chorus his secret — that in his
direst need he yet has power over Zeus. He knows of a marriage — with Thetis
~that the king of gods will contract to his own destruction. From this union
will be born a son more powerful, who will do to Zeus what he did to his
father Cronos. The Titan’s words have been heard in Olympus: Hermes comes
down at Zeus’ command to wrest Prometheus’ secret from him. He threatens
and inveighs in vain: the Titan defies even the thunderbolt, and at the end of
the play he and the chorus which refuses to leave him sink together into the
depths.
In 1856 Westphal drew attention to certain peculiarities of the choral parts
of the Prometheus, and the problems which he raised are yet far from settled.
The progress of research has revealed numerous features occurring only in this
one play among all those of Aeschylus — the most obvious being the simplicity
of the language. The overall impression is reinforced by a large number of par-
ticular observations? in the fteld of vocabulary, thought and management of
themes. Hence there is more than the classic delirium delens in the view that the
play either is not by Aeschylus or has been extensively rewritten. Wilhelm
Schmid showed the courage of his convictions in treating the Prometheus (in his
Geschichte der griechischen Literatur) as an anonymous drama written under the
influence of the sophistic movement. This may, however, seem undue confi-
dence, if we reflect how little we possess of Aeschylus’ output, and how slender
our basis of comparison is. Under the surprising and novel elements there is an
undeniable grandeur of conception, and beside all that seems unlike Aeschylus
' That the Oceanids had not a winged chariot but winged seats is maintained by §.
FRAENKEL, ‘Der Einzug des Chores im Prometheus’. Ann. Scuola Norm. di Pisa 1954, 269.
W. BUCHWALD, in the excellent introduction to his edition (Bamberg 1962) thinks that each
of the girls had her own little winged chariot. The wings no doubt served to conceal the
machinery that made them move.
2 See e.g. Gnom. 19, 1943, 198, and F. HEINIMANN, Nomos und Physis. Basel 1945, 44.
92, Nn. §. O. HILTBRUNNER, Wiederholungs- und Motivtechnik bei Aisch. Berne 1950, 75.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

we recognize much that is entirely characteristic of him. The prevailing modern

view is that the piece is genuine. The writer himself shares this view, but with a
protest against the attitude of mind shown by many modern scholars, who
refuse to admit that there is a Prometheus problem at all, and pass over in silence
so many arguments which deserve the most careful consideration.
The most difficult question is that of the representation of Zeus in this play.
How can the newly established tyrant of Olympus, holding sway by pure force,
inflicting sufferings such as Io’s, be reconciled with the just ruler of the universe
depicted in the Agamemnon, to whom the name of Zeus is doubtfully and hesita-
tingly given by the prayers of the pious? Is a reconciliation possible? Jacob
Burckhardt thought not. If it is, then it must have been effected in the other
two parts of the trilogy, now lost. Itis time that scholars stopped applying to the
Prometheus F. T. Vischer’s words on the Old Testament — ‘ At that time God him-
self was still young’ — even if Wilamowitz did set the example.? Nothing justifies
our dragging in the notion of an evolving deity. There is no evolution in the
Erinyes of the Oresteia: at the end of the trilogy they show only the other side
of their double aspect. What the end of the Oresteia does show is that Aeschylus
considered the sensible world as the reconciliation of originally opposing forces;
and there is some reason to believe that the Promethean trilogy also ended in
reconciliation between the Titan and the Olympians.
We know of three other Prometheus-dramas from Aeschylus’ pen. If we set
on one side the Prometheus Pyrcaeus (which we know to have been a satyr-play
from the Persae trilogy) we are left with the Lyomenos and the Pyrphoros. The
former, by its title, must have represented the loosing of the Titan; indeed we
have express witness that it did from the scholion on v. 511 of the surviving play.
This fact gives rise to a strong argument against the generally accepted theory
that Prometheus on the rock was represented on the stage by a huge lay figure.
The theory has certain advantages. It enables the opening scene to be staged
with only two actors (Bia being a muta persona), and the sinking and disappear-
ance in the last scene seems a well contrived way to get over the difficulties in-
volved. We do not know whether the poet could have expected the stage illusion
to be accepted by his audience; but the freeing of Prometheus at the end of the
trilogy speaks decisively against the supposition.
The remaining Prometheus-play, the Pyrphoros (Firebringer), raises a difficult
question. Where did it belong in the trilogy? Was it the first play, describing
the theft of fire from heaven, or the last, bringing reconciliation of the opposing
forces and the establishment of a Prometheus-cult? It is attractive to suppose
parallelism with the Eumenides, but this is not a powerful argument. The content
of the play is unknown to us, and we must not try to transcend the limits of our
knowledge. It would be quite wrong to equate this play with the Pyrcaeus and
to suppose a dilogy made up of the other two. Assuming then that the Pyrphoros

1 Griech. Kulturgeschichte 1, 319 (KRONER).

2 J. A. DAVISON, Ant. Class. 1958, 445, with some justification, speaks of this theory of
an evolving Zeus as a monstrous perversion of Aeschylus’ theology. If anything evolves,
it is Prometheus’ understanding of Zeus.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

belonged to a trilogy, we may imagine that there were greater possibilities of

dramatic effect in making it the first play than if it were put at the end. Thus
much and no more we may concede to Pohlenz' in his onslaught on Reinhardt.
In his very fine book on Aeschylus, Gilbert Murray quotes approvingly
Swinburne’s judgment that the Oresteia is probably ‘the greatest achievement
of the human mind’. It is now fashionable to shrink with horror from unseason-
able expressions of sentiment, and all such enthusiasm is automatically suspect.
But even today it may be permissible to speak of this trilogy as one of the high-
points of human artistic achievement. There is nothing to compare with it,
except perhaps the sculpture of Michelangelo. Yet in its form the Oresteia by
no means reaches the utmost fulfilment of the classic ideal. This great poem,
with its cosmic scale, still has many features of the archaic style: but they are
not worn as shackles — rather as badges of a gradually achieved mastery. The
sculptures of the temple of Zeus at Olympia are nearly contemporary with the
Oresteia; and the Apollo of the west pediment is closely akin to the Apollo of
the Eumenides.
When Aeschylus in 458 brought out this trilogy, together with the lost satyr-
play Proteus, the story already had a long history. We have glimpses of it here
and there from Homer onward: a loss that must be particularly regretted is that
of the choral lyric into which Stesichorus put the legend. The little that we know
of his Oresteia indicates elements that were used to good effect in the drama.
On the other hand there is force in Wilamowitz’ observation that the cardinal
importance of Apollo in the story is attributable to older epics under Delphian
influence. However this may be, Aeschylus’ achievement in the Oresteia is not
principally in the invention of the story. Older versions represent Aegisthus as
being the prime mover in the murder, and the importance given to Clytem-
nestra, who is so dominating a figure in the Agamemnon, has been taken as an
innovation on Aeschylus’ part. But the role that she plays in the reports in the
Odyssey needs careful reconsideration, and the eleventh Pythian Ode of Pindar
shows that earlier versions also had made Clytemnestra commit the murder
with her own hand. It is in the Eumenides that Aeschylus handles the traditional
plot with the greatest freedom; and indeed his most characteristic contribution
is the new form that he gives to the old material and the new thought and feeling
with which he loads it.
The stage presentation of the trilogy shows an advance in freedom and com-
plexity on the earlier pieces. Effective use is made of the third actor, although
we are still a long way from real three-part dialogues. As regards the set, the
front wall of the skene is here for the first time used to represent the front of a
palace, with a large central door and side entrances onto the stage.
All three plays begin with prologue-speeches. If we were right in our previous
supposition (p. 228) that the prologue was in its origins a device to prepare the
audience for the following choral ode, we have here a striking example of the
art with which Aeschylus used it to set the different tone required by different
plays.
ie Allis
256
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
The action of the Agamemnon opens at night, a little before sunrise. A watch-
man is on the roof of the palace, set there by Clytemnestra’s order, to watch for
the signal fire that is to bring from height to height the news of Troy’s destruc-
tion to Argos. His complaints of the endlessness of his task are broken off by
his sudden exultant cry on seeing the beacon flash out. But almost at once his
joy is damped by his knowledge of the guilt and danger that lurk in the palace
below him. So in thirty-nine verses Aeschylus draws the contrast that makes the
whole play, and strikes what is to be the keynote of the drama. The spacious
writing of the first half, before the meeting of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra,
has a suffocating intensity of foreboding behind the rejoicing. The poet’s genius
goes on thickening and darkening the clouds until the lightning-bolkt itself is a
relief from the sustained tension.
The spaciousness of the introductory sections, especially of the choral odes
which follow the prologue and the anapaestic parodos of the chorus of Argive
elders, can be understood if we remember that we have here the exposition not
only of the Agamemnon, but of the whole trilogy. In this connection we can
see some significance in the respective lengths of the plays (1673, 1076 and 1047
lines respectively).
The lengthy parodos takes our minds back to the sailing of the Greek fleet.
In Aulis Agamemnon was under the fearful necessity of sacrificing his child
Iphigenia to appease the anger of Artemis and to buy a favourable wind. Here
again is man groaning under the yoke of Ananke; here again he has to choose
between two alternatives: neither seems endurable, yet one must be chosen.
The Atridae, throwing their sceptre to the ground, with tears starting from their
eyes, become the symbol of man confronted with a fateful but inevitable de-
cision. And here again the human being who under the harshest compulsion
has taken his decision, surrenders his own will to it. Agamemnon is now wholly
decided (v. 221): he sacrifices his child and thus sets the great fleet free to sail.
But in his wife’s heart he has kindled a flame of hatred that is never to be
quenched. Nevertheless, it would be a false simplification to ascribe Clytem-
nestra’s action to this motive alone. It is her own passions, as much as her hatred
of Agamemnon, that drives her into the arms of the lesser man, and makes her
kill her husband. It is left for the later development of the action to show how
all this is ultimately bound up indissolubly in a far wider web.
The choric part of the parodos is elaborately subdivided: in the middle of it
comes the hymn to Zeus. The form of the primitive song of invocation, which
tried to reach the god by using all his cult-names (cf. II. 1.37) here becomes the
vehicle of a religious sentiment that cannot be content with names: ‘Zeus, who-
ever he may be, if it please him so be be called. . . .’ There are few passages in
which we catch so clearly the tone of the poet’s own voice. The figure of Zeus,
which had long ceased to be comparable with the Homeric ‘father of gods and
men’ out of whom he had grown, is for Aeschylus the personification and the
guarantee of a universal and intelligible world-order. Be the ways of God
never so entangled, yet at the last they can be understood; and in this hymn
Aeschylus proclaims their meaning. Man’s path through guilt and sorrow is his
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE
; eae: ae
path towards insight into God’s law. The proverb, ‘Suffering is learning :
which at first meant no more than that adversity sharpened the wits, here
becomes the key expression of a profound religious cosmology." The same holds
good of another proverb, to be put beside the former — ‘The doer must be the
sufferer’. In this chain of action, guilt, expiation, recognition we encounter
again the motif of the Persae — the notion of a god who helps man to sin. This
is the god of Aeschylus, and this the hard road by which he leads us to recogni-
tion of him.
The Agamemnon shows in its composition that same inequality in dramatic
tempo which we saw earlier: a long and slow preparation is followed by a
rapid resolution of the tragic conflict. Clytemnestra has a long speech describing
the course of the beaconlight over the mountain-tops; the first stasimon$ of the
chorus, in a series of leisurely transitions, sings of Zeus’ punishment of Paris,
who violated the laws of hospitality and stole the wife of his host, and of the
curse that fell upon the war that was fought over a woman. All is gloom and
foreboding. Aeschylus here does with great effect what he was to do again in
the Choephori: into this atmosphere of anxiety and tension he brings an ordinary
man who has no share in the drama and is free of the fears of those who know
the circumstances. Onto the stage comes a herald to announce the landing of
the king: his heart is full of joy at the homecoming, and he delightedly contrasts
the happiness and safety of the moment with the hardships of campaigning.
Aeschylus’ bold handling of time is well shown in the fact that we hear
Clytemnestra’s speech about the beacon fires before the first stasimon, and
immediately after it Agamemnon’s landing is announced. It has been commonly
observed that a choral ode in tragedy can be taken as indicating a great lapse of
time. Here, however, such an explanation is not enough: the arrival of the herald
is explicitly connected with the confirmation of the tidings which the beacon
has brought earlier (v. 489).
The second stasimon begins by dwelling on Helen as the great bringer of
grief to the Achaeans, but then becomes more general. We hear the poet’s own
avowal (v. 750), that he does not share the popular view of the ‘envy’ of the
gods: it is not a grudging attitude towards excessive human fortune, but the
decrees of justice that direct God’s hand when he punishes sin. Guilt is the root
of all suffering. Such is the burden of the song up to the entrance of the victor.
Agamemnon enters in a chariot: behind him cowers Cassandra, the Trojan
princess whom he is bringing under Clytemnestra’s roof as his concubine. The
tension that pervades all the first half of the Agamemmon is marvellously sustained
here. Agamemnon’s cold reserve is met with feigned rejoicing from his wife,
whose dissimulation is almost carried away with its own virtuosity. The scene
ends in a verbal battle, in which Clytemnestra finally prevails upon her husband

‘ On the history of the term see H. DORRIE, Leid und Erfahrung. Abh. Ak. Mainz, Geistes-
und sozialwiss. Kl. 1956/5.
2 Cf. inter al. Hesiod fr. 174 Rz.
The term denotes a song in a quiet or standing-still measure, not in a marching rhythm
like the entrances and exits: cf. w. KRANZ, Stasimon. Berl. LO33 RDAs
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

to walk over a purple carpet into the house. This victory foreshadows another
that she hopes for within doors.!
Before the catastrophe Aeschylus has inserted a scene which suddenly widens
the play’s horizon. Clytemnestra comes forth to lure a second prey into the
house: the Trojan princess remains silent where she is. Then the god comes upon
her - Apollo who had decreed that she must prophecy the truth in vain. In a
rapid interchange of wild, visionary song and clear intelligible speech she
brings before our eyes the previous history of the house of Atreus: the defiling
of a brother’s marriage-bed, the hideous banquet of Thyestes, finally, bodily
present to her inspired vision, a troop of furies, singing and revelling like
drunkards in the house from which they can never be driven out. A new link
is now welded onto the chain of guilt. Indoors Clytemnestra makes ready to
slay her victorious husband and king like a sacrificial victim. Cassandra must
share his fate, and after a last flicker of her will to live, she goes resignedly into
the house to her death. Soon afterwards Agamemnon’s death-cry comes from
the house. The chorus argues and hesitates: the great door opens,” and Clytem-
nestra is seen with the fatal axe in her hand, standing over the bodies of her two
victims. The frenzy of the deed is still upon her, and she likens the drops of
blood that have bespattered her to the rain that falls on thirsty seeds. Then
follows a long dispute with the chorus, who meet her exultation with a reminder
of the heaviness of her sin and the certainty of expiation. Clytemnestra now
sees the truth: not that she repents or abandons the attempt to defend her action
- but she learns that she herself is now tied in the chain of sin and expiation
which stretched from the earliest history of her house and will extend yet into
the future, no man can say how far. She would gladly now make a pact with
the ancestral daemon, that this might at last be enough. But, as if in answer,
Aegisthus now enters — her paramour, who left her to do the deed and now
plays the master. The old men’s anger takes fire, and open battle would break
out but for Clytemnestra, pleading with a woman’s voice against any further
bloodshed. She goes with Aegisthus into the palace where the two are now to
reign.
The second play, the Choephori, shows in its structure a striking similarity to
the first — a similarity that is particularly obvious at the climacterics of the action.
Again a man is led by his guilty deed into the fatal circle that has now closed
around the house of Atreus, again, despite all his unwillingness, he is forced to
see the reality of this chain of guilt. As in the Agamemnon, so here also there are
four scenes leading up to the confrontation of the main actors. The prologue,
which has survived in fragmentary condition, is spoken by Orestes at the grave
of his father. The innocent young man and his prayer are in violent and effective
t The scene is rather similarly interpreted by H. GUNDERT, @ewpia, Festschr. Schuchhardt.
Baden-Baden 1960, 69, who also discusses other views.
2 In this and similar scenes there is no need to posit an eccyclema — a revolving stage
which came at a later period; cf. £. BETHE, ‘Ekkyklema und Thyroma’. Rhein. Mus. 83,
1934, 21. A. PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, The Theatre of Dionysus in Athens. Oxf. 1946, is also
against the eccyclema for the classical stage; see, however, T. B. L. WEBSTER, ‘Staging and
Scenery in the Ancient Greek Theatre’. Bull. Rylands Libr. 42/2, 1960, 493.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

contrast with the stormclouds in which the Agamemnon ended. Next we hear
the song of women approaching the grave, Electra among them: Orestes con-
ceals himself, with his companion Pylades, to see what is the meaning of this
procession. Clytemnestra, frightened by an evil dream, has sent her daughter
with expiatory offerings to the tomb of the murdered king; but the prayer with
which Electra accompanies the gifts is for the return of Orestes and for ven-
geance. She sees the lock of hair which her brother has left on the grave, recog-
nizes his footprint,’ and guesses that he is at hand. A third scene shows the
mutual recognition of brother and sister — a scene technically simple, but appeal-
ing in the intimacy ofits sentiment. Orestes and Electra join with the chorus in
a long choric ode over the tomb, after which Orestes outlines his plan, thus
leading through the fourth of our scenes to his first meeting with his mother.
She still does not recognize him, as he feigns to be a messenger of Orestes’
death. She takes him and his companion Pylades into the house, and sends a
message to Aegisthus, who is away from home. The messenger is Orestes’ old
nurse — another example of the ‘uninvolved’ character, expressing the purely
human in the most unadorned words. She also believes the story of Orestes’
death, and finds the tears for him that his own mother does not shed. Her
tender memories of taking care of his helpless infancy come well from the poet
whose understanding of the dumb creation is so moving in the parodos to the
Agamemnon.
All true works of art are made up of elements effective in several aspects at
once. Thus the scene with the old nurse is not only good theatre in itself, but is
significant in the plot as a whole. She was to have summoned Aegisthus to
come with an armed retinue; but the chorus, letting her suspect the true facts,
persuades her to modify the message in this vital point. After a choral ode which
covers the time necessary for the message to be taken, Aegisthus arrives, and
falls to Orestes’ sword in the palace. A servant of Clytemnestra’s calls her out
from the women’s quarters: his words, ‘The dead slay the living’, tell her all.
Her old spirit flames up: she calls for the axe, but Orestes is there to confront
her. There is a short battle of words. ‘My child’, she repeatedly calls Orestes, as
if the word had power to save her; but her attempts to avoid her fate are in
vain, and Orestes drives her into the palace to her death. Again the great door
opens after a choral ode; again the slayer stands over the bodies of his two
victims. Like Clytemnestra in the Agamemnon, Orestes tries at first to justify his
action: he calls Helios to witness the rightness of his cause, and commands the
servants to bring out the net in which Agamemnon was slain unarmed. But all
his self-justifieation is of no avail: the darkness of horror settles upon his senses.
The spirits of revenge for his mother’s blood rise from the ground before his
eyes, and in madness he rushes from the stage to seck purification at Delphi.
In the first half of the play a great deal of space (306-478) is given to a lyrical
Vv. 205-211 and 228 f. (about the footprint), together with the hostile allusion to this
theme in Euripides El. 518-544, have been called in question: E. FRAENKEL, Aesch. Agam.
Oxf. 1950, 3, p. 815. But see H. LLOYD-JONES in Class. Quart. N.S. II, 1961, 171 and
H.-J. NEWIGER, Herm. 89, 1961, 427.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

section — the kommos over the grave of Agamemnon, in which Orestes, Electra
and the chorus all take part. The structure is elaborate, partly triadic: the sig-
nificance is not confined to the Choephori, but extends to the whole trilogy.
— he came
It is not that Orestes here takes the determination to kill his mother
home with that resolve already made — but that there is a remarkable shift in
the accentuation of the motive. Before the kommos Orestes makes a long speech
declaring the necessity of his action, supporting it by appealing to the clear
command of the Delphian Apollo, who threatened the severest penalty for
disobedience.? But in the kommos itself, Apollo's command is suffered to slip
wholly into the background — so much that it is not even mentioned. That
Orestes who ended his account of the guilt of the house of Atreus and his own
compulsion to act with the declaration, “She shall rue the deed’, is now no
longer thinking of Apollo or of Aegisthus: he has made the dreadful resolution
to kill his mother part of his own will, and acts now on his own responsibility.
The basic feature here is that double motivation — divine decree and human
will — which we saw to be a characteristic element of Homeric psychology; but
what in Homer was a simple unity has here become the field of a deep tragic
conflict. Here is a particularly clear example of that typically Aeschylean feeling
that human actions are liable suddenly to show a fatal ambiguity. Orestes, the
model of piety, who obeys the god and avenges his father, at the same time
becomes the murderer of his mother, and thus is entangled in the chain of guilt
and expiation that binds his house.
It is not only here that the double aspect of Orestes’ motive comes out clearly.
When Orestes, confronted with his mother, loses the power to act, Pylades
speaks — the only speech he has in the play — to remind Orestes of the Delphic
god, whose will has now to be brought to bear when Orestes’ own will fails
him. And at the end of the play, where the horror of the act embodies itself
for Orestes in the Eumenides, he flees to the god who commanded him to do
that which his own strength cannot bear.
The end of the Choephori with the madness of Orestes is one of the most
overwhelming scenes in Aeschylus. In contrast, the last play of the trilogy, the
Eumenides, opens quietly as morning comes to the peace of the Delphic sanctuary.
The priestess utters a pious prayer before entering the temple, from which she
comes tottering out, overwhelmed with horror. The sight that has terrified her
is soon revealed by the opening of the great gate in the front of the temple.
Orestes sits there at the sacred centre of the earth: around him are the dreadful
figures of the Erinyes, his pursuers, who have fallen for the moment asleep after
the exertion of the chase. Apollo has appeared to their quarry, and now promises
him his support. Hermes is to guide him to Athens, to the old statue of the city

« The opposite positions: w. SCHADEWALDT, ‘Der Kommos in Aisch. Choephoren’.

Herm. 67, 1932, 312 (now Hellas und Hesperien. Ziirich 1960, 106). A. LESKY, ‘Der Kommos
der Choephoren’. Sitzb. Ak. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl. 221/3, 1943; id., ‘Gottliche und mensch-
liche Motivation im hom. Epos’. Sitzb. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1961/4, 52.
2 If vv. 297-305 are genuine, which serve as a kind of appendix to Orestes’ speech, they
must be taken as a transition to the kommos.
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goddess: there he will find judges to decide his case. The god sees Orestes safely
on his way, and then turns out the Erinyes from his temple — the bright Olym-
pian turning out the goddesses of an older and darker world.
Orestes’ journey to Athens (in which the Delphic god sends him, as it were,
out of his own province) shows us Aeschylus handling the traditional material
more boldly than elsewhere in the trilogy. The power of Apollo as it was
understood in the older sagas — freeing Orestes from guilt by rites of purification,
or giving him the bow that was to defend him against the Erinyes — could not
satisfy Aeschylus’ ways of thought. The laws of Dike had been utterly violated
and despised in the house of Atreus, and no mere outward forms, no washing
away of guilt with the blood of animals, could make good the damage. The
change of scene in this play symbolizes the entry on the scene of another and a
greater purifying power than that of Apollo.
After a change of scene, probably effected by no more than the closing of the
temple door and the setting up of a statue of Pallas (if indeed there was not one
in the orchestra from the beginning), we are shown Orestes on the acropolis
of Athens, in the protection of the goddess’s statue. The chorus of Erinyes finds
him there, bursts furiously into the orchestra, and seeks to bind him with dance
and incantation. But gradually the rhythm of the dance becomes more peaceful,
and the song of the goddesses tells us that they too have their place in the great
plan of Zeus. These sleepless, unforgetting children of Night personify the
inevitability of atonement for the shedding of blood. Athene, goddess of the
world of light, is herself to say later (v. 698): “Do not wholly drive out from
your city that which gives you to fear. What man remains righteous, who fears
nothing?’
After this song from the chorus, the goddess herself comes to her citadel, sees
the strange assembly round her statue, and asks what is afoot. The role of the
goddess is comparable to that of the king in the Supplices: she is confronted with
pursuer and pursued, and neither can be easily dismissed. But the daughter of
Zeus is not at a loss: she will set up for all time a court of justice to pronounce
the law when human life has been taken.
The scene which follows the next choral song must be imagined as taking
place on the Areopagus, another part of the acropolis; but it is not necessary,
or even possible, to assume any external indication of the change of place.
Here we see assembled the citizens whom Athene has chosen as judges. Apollo
himself comes to speak for Orestes against the Erinyes before these judges. In the
presentation of their cases by the leader of the chorus and by the god we breathe
the atmosphere of an Athenian lawcourt: but behind all the advocacy is a con-
flict of gigantic forces. Apollo, the son of Zeus, stands for a younger world of
gods, a world in which the father is supreme. In consequence the slaying of
Agamemnon and the command to avenge him outweigh the killing of a mother.
The Erinyes represent that powerful, primitive world-order of conception and
birth in which the mother is all-important. Aeschylus shows unparallelled poetic
power in his presentation of the two basic forces embodied in the religion of
his people.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
The two sides have presented their case. Athene now, at the very outset of
her first speech, proclaims the founding of the court which is to be named
from the hill of Ares, and which is for ever to judge those who have spilt human
blood. The Oresteia, whose action now has the very universe for its stage, finds
room for a piece of contemporary history. Four years before the play was per-
formed Ephialtes had brought in a reform which stripped the Areopagus —
traditionally dominated by aristocrats — of its political powers, leaving it only
the right to try homicide and certain powers to supervise ceremonies. In the
Eumenides Aeschylus avoids taking a side in the issue: through the mouth of
Athene he only promises to the court those powers which the reform had left it.
It is as the repository of the power to absolve from blood-guilt that the Areo-
pagus is to remain in honour among a people who, in Athene’s impressive
words, ‘loves neither licence nor to hear a lord’s command’ (v. 696).
The jurors cast their votes, and that of Athene is in Orestes’ favour. The votes
are thus equally divided; and according to the rule she has laid down, this result
means acquittal.
It has often been remarked, and not without justice, that in the trial scene
Aeschylus lays very great stress on the state as the repository of justice. But at
the same time he lets his audience see the limitations of human justice. This
equal division of votes expresses the impossibility of resolving by human wits
the conflict of the Oresteia, which extends into the world of the gods. It is only
the divine clemency that can rescue Orestes and break the chain of sin and
punishment — the divine clemency operating through Athene, the beloved
daughter of Zeus and thus the exponent of his will. It is then Zeus himself who
favours the principle of clemency in the rule that an equal division of votes
means acquittal.
Orestes’ gratitude now flows from a full heart. He promises always to be
true to the city where he found salvation. Never will an Argive spear be levelled
against Athens. Again we hear the voice of the Athenian, well knowing the
importance that Argive power had for his city in the conflicts of his day.
It still remains to complete the work of reconciliation where the gods are
concerned. The goddesses of revenge rage and threaten in defeat; but Athene —
the very personification in this scene of all the subtlety of Attic genius — is able
to win them over. The powers of the underworld have as their province not
only death, but budding life: they can curse, but also bless. Under the name of
‘Eumenides’ — the wise, the holy ones — the goddesses of revenge will have
their shrine in Athens and bestow the blessing of which they now sing, placated
by Athene’s promise. The play ends with the forming of the procession that is
to escort the divinities to their new seat of worship. Thus among the gods also
the conflict has reached a happy resolution, and at the same time we have seen
the accomplishment of the will of the supreme deity. In the words of the escort-
ing chorus, ‘All-seeing Zeus and Fate have together come to their goal’. The
poet’s religious philosophy has thus arrived at the reconciliation of the conflict
between impersonal fate and a personal world-ruler, a reconciliation embodied
in the person of Zeus.
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Modern attempts to define tragedy commonly stem from the words of

Goethe in a letter to Friedrich von Miiller of 6th June 1824: ‘The tragic flows
entirely from an irreconcilable conflict. From the moment that reconciliation
enters, or becomes possible, the truly tragic disappears.’ The ‘pantragism’ of
Hebbel together with Scheler’s doctrine that the world of tragedy necessarily
involves a destruction of values as a basic element, form intermediate steps from
Goethe to current philosophies of tragedy. The Oresteia poses in an acute form
the following question: How, in the light of modern views on tragedy, can we
give that name to a trilogy which ends with the reconciliation of the conflicting
forces? Is it a tragedy only in the sense of belonging to a recognized ancient
literary genre, and does it in fact not contain true tragedy? This is a view that
few would willingly adopt. It is hard to imagine a more tragic figure than
Orestes, who by one and the same act becomes the righteous avenger and the
devoted prey of the Furies. Yet the trilogy ends with that reconciliation which,
as Goethe thought, was the negation of tragedy!
The question thus posed leads us straight into the central arena of the prob-
lem, “What is tragedy?’ — an arena much trodden in our day. It is a question
that we cannot answer here. I shall merely suggest, where Aeschylus is con-
cerned, a distinction which may perhaps have a wider application. There
is a fundamentally tragic world-view, involving necessarily ultimate destruc-
tion: there is also another, which finds room for solution and reconciliation,
but without excluding tragic situations in their sharpest form. On this view
Aeschylus in the Oresteia shows that he is a master of tragic situations in their
utmost breadth and depth, but has a philosophy of human existence which is
not tragic in the modern application of the word. The end comes not in destruc-
tion and the mutual annihilation of values, but in the confirmation of those values
within the framework of a world powerfully directed by the wisdom of God.!
Among the lost trilogies of Aeschylus we may mention, for the interest of
their subject matter, that which dealt with the fortunes of Ajax (Judgment of
Arms, Women of Thrace, Women of Salamis), and the Lycurgeia, made up of the
tragedies Edonoi, Bassarai, and Neaniskoi and the satyr play Lycurgus.? The latter
was based on one of the Dionysiac sagas of the conflicts between the god of
ecstasy and mortal men — in this case Lycurgus, king of Thrace. This trilogy
also seems to have ended in reconciliation of the conflicting forces. Other
tragedies on Dionysiac themes were Bacchae, Semele’ (NepéAy 7} ‘Y8poddpor) —
the latter probably forming a trilogy with Pentheus and Xantriai — and the satyr-
play The Nurses of Dionysus (Avovicov tpodoi).
Wilamowitz complained in his Aischylos-Interpretationen (1914) that the
sands of Egypt had given us so far not a shred of Aeschylus. The situation was

' A fuller discussion of these problems: A. LESKY, Die griech. Tragédie. 2nd ed. Stuttgart
1958, IL: p. 269 gives a bibliography on the problem of tragedy.
* K. DEICHGRABER, ‘Die Lykurgie des Aisch.’ Nachr. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1/3, 1938/39,
231. K. vysox¥, “Aischylova Lykurgeia’. Listy Filologické 82, 1959, 177.
> Ox. Pap. 18, 1941, nr. 2164 (fr. 355 M.) is assigned to this play by x. rattr, Phil.
97, 1948, 47.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
dramatically altered in 1932 when Breccia excavated a rubbish heap at Oxyrhyn-
chus which had long been protected by the grave of an Arab saint. His valuable
discoveries, published by Girolamo Vitelli and Medea Norsa in Pap. Soc. It. 1
(1935), were followed shortly by an English publication containing new frag-
ments of Aeschylus. As early as 1902-3 the same site at K6m had been partly
excavated by Grenfell and Hunt (who had to avoid disturbing the grave), and a
good many fragments of papyrus were discovered. These included fragments
of Aeschylus, mostly very small, which were published by Edgar Lobel in the
18th and 20th volumes of Oxyrhynchus Papyri (1941, 1952).
The Italian discoveries included 22 verses of the Niobe, describing the suffering
of the bereaved mother and urging human beings to remember the limitations
of their status. The passage is so damaged that it is hard to know who is the
speaker. That it is part of a prologue spoken by a god or goddess (e.g. Leto)
seems unlikely: it would suit better a nurse or someone else closely connected
with Niobe. The possibility that Niobe herself is the speaker is rejected in the
most recent discussion of the fragments: if it had been so, the verses would be
from the second half of the play; for in Aristophanes’ Frogs and in the manu-
script life of Aeschylus Niobe and Achilles are cited as examples of Aeschylus’
trick of keeping a character silent on the stage for a long time, only allowing
him to speak when the play is more than half over. In this fragment we find the
words that were previously known to us from a quotation in Plato (Republic 2,
380 a): “God permits an aiz/a to grow up among men when he wishes utterly to
destroy a house.’ The Greek word is untranslateable, meaning both ‘cause’ and
‘guilt’. Such an expression fits easily into the picture we have formed of
Aeschylus’ religious philosophy. We may set beside it frag. 301 N.: ‘God is not
above rightful deception.”!
The other important piece from the 1932 discoveries was 36 much damaged
verses from the Myrmidons. This play formed part of the Achilles trilogy, together
with the Nereids — so named from the chorus of sea-nymphs who bring Achilles
his new arms — and the Phrygians or the Ransoming of Hector. In this play Achilles
was characteristically shown as long sunk in silence in his grief for Patroclus.
The fragments of the Myrmidons allow us to discern parts of a dispute in which
Achilles’ bitter resentment is carried to its ultimate consequence. Ox. Pap. 20,
2253 may very well come from the prologue of the play.
The judgment of antiquity (Diog. Laert. 2, 133; Pausan. 2. 13, 6) that Aeschylus
took first place among writers of satyr-plays, is one which until recently we
were unable to check. In consequence we are particularly glad to find among the
new discoveries some that show us this other side of the poet of the Oresteia.
The same service has been done for Aeschylus in this way as the Ichneutai-frag-
ments did for Sophocles. One of the fragments discovered by the Italians and a
larger one found by Grenfell and Hunt give us a tolerably good picture? of the
Dictyulkoi (‘The Drawers of Nets’), since the two fragments come from widely
separated parts of the play. It formed part of a tetralogy on Perseus, the other
1 Cf. K. DEICHGRABER, Der Listensinnende Trug des Gottes. Gottingen 1952, 108 (GGN
1940). 2 Reconstruction essentially by PFEIFFER and SIEGMANN (v. inf.).
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

pieces being the Phorkides, featuring the adventure with the Gorgons, and the
Polydectes, telling how Perseus after his adventure returned to Seriphos and
protected Danae from the king of that island.
The fragment found by Breccia comes from the opening of the play, and
represents two fishermen — one of them is Dictys, the king’s brother — struggling
with a catch of inexplicable weight." This is in fact the chest containing Danae
and her child, which has been washed up against the cliffs of Seriphos. Being
unable to land it by themselves, they call for help. This is as far as the fragment
goes: we may naturally suppose that the chorus of satyrs came on to help land
the chest. There must have been a striking scene in which a woman is suddenly
revealed as the contents: very possibly the cowardice of the satyrs made them
take to their heels at the first surprise of the discovery. The larger frag-
ment in Ox. Pap. 18 comes from a much later part of the play, since a verse-
number in the margin appears as 800 — a surprisingly high number, for the play
cannot have ended with the scene in question, and we must suppose a quite
extraordinary length by the standards of satyr plays. The suggestion of Sieg-
mann’s, that the characters in this scene are Danae and Silenus, the lecherous
and reprobate sire of all the satyrs, was the first to bring this fragment to
dramatic life. Dictys has gone into the city to obtain a decision about Danae;
and Silenus takes the opportunity to woo the fair piece of flotsam. He praises
his services to her and promises her a happy life together. Danae in terror calls
on the gods to deliver her from this lecherous demon of the woods. The poet
handles most charmingly Silenus’ attempts to win the heart of the mother by a
thousand tricks to amuse the infant Perseus; and there is great humour in the
anapaests of the chorus of satyrs, who urge a speedy consummation of the wed-
ding, and interpret Danae’s signs of reluctance as really betokening a warm
passion for Silenus. Throughout the piece there is a fresh and natural flavour that
enables us to understand the judgment of the ancient critics.
The Spectators at the Festival or Visitors to the Isthmus (Oewpot 7 *lo8uraorai)
must have been equally amusing, so far as the miserable remnants permit us to
judge. The satyrs bring masks depicting their somewhat questionable good
looks to hang up as adornments to the temple of Poseidon on the Isthmus. We
gather also that they propose to take part in the games, and that for this purpose
they are going to run away from their master Dionysus. Their athletic zeal pre-
sumably produced unexpected results, and at the end they returned to servitude
as before.
A few tiny scraps of other plays such as Glaucus Pontius (or Glaucus Potnieus)
and of unknown plays give us no clue to their contents. The Aetna has been
already discussed.
The content of Aeschylean drama is matched by the weight of its language
and expression. Aristophanes, himself a master of language, gave characteristic
expression to this fact when he made Aeschylus in the Frogs declare that great
thought must find correspondingly great language (v. 1059). It is in this con-
nection that the most obvious features of Aeschylean language occur: even
‘ On the text see R. STARK, Rhein. Mus. 102, 1959, 3.
266
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

where Aristophanes is burlesquing him, we can read between the lines the very
real respect which the comic poet had for the ‘Bacchic prince’ (Baxyetos dva€)
as the chorus calls Aeschylus (v. 1259).
There is no ‘linguistic adornment’ in Aeschylus. With him we are still in a
realm where the name belongs to the named as part of its essential being, in
which word-magic is still strongly alive. Three consequences flow from this
fact. Firstly there are the etymologies which Aeschylus so loves. To us they
seem odd and contrived; but in fact they are rooted in the notion that the name
is the key to the nature of the thing. Secondly there is the repetition of particular
words, often running as a sort of leitmotiv through whole sections! — not as a
literary adornment, but as the expression of its significance. Thirdly there is
Aeschylus’ verbal imagery, which again belongs to this class. It is not often that
he contents himself with setting the two things compared side-by-side, with a
simple particle of comparison (an example is Choe. 501, where the children
who preserve the memory of the murdered man are likened to the corks that
keep a fisherman’s net from sinking): more often the native force of his language
extorts from a single point of contact the whole correspondence which Homer
would have conveyed in an elaborate simile. Thus Agamemnon (Choe. 501)
might pity the young birds that cower down upon his grave; thus Eteocles
(Septem 371) stands as helmsman at the poop of the state. This kind of language
sometimes goes as far as can be borne, as in Septem 371, when a man rapidly
approaching ‘plies the oars of his feet’.
Aeschylus’ range of expression is extraordinary. We notice this most easily
if we compare the clearly articulated language of his dialogue, marked by
obvious antitheses and sparing use of adjectives, with the flowing majesty of
the choruses, devoid of clearly marked subdivisions. But even within these two
main divisions the variation in linguistic expression is very remarkable. In the
dialogue we find passages where Aeschylus’ language ‘towers up’ (Frogs 1004),
and others where the greatest effects are achieved by extreme simplicity. But
always his style is the outward expression of that greatness (ueyaAompéreia)
which ancient critics admired in him, even while they sometimes felt themselves
oppressed or repelled by the peculiar character of this greatness.?

The transmission of the text of Aeschylus fits into the general pattern of trans-
mission of classical texts as outlined in our first section. But there are special
problems connected with the tragedians. Revivals of Aeschylus’ tragedies were
staged very shortly after his death: after 386 such revivals of the older writers
become more and more common. Obviously some rewriting might be done
on such occasions: we have the statement of pseudo-Plutarch (Vit. Dec. Orat.
7.841) that the orator Lycurgus, who in the last thirty years of the fourth century
regulated public worship at Athens, introduces a law for the provision of an
1 See HILTBRUNNER’S work cited above (p. 254, n. 2).
2 a. DE PROPRIS, Eschilo nella critica dei Greci. Turin 1941.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

official copy of the tragic texts, and forbade any alterations by the actors. Cer-
tainly such alterations or interpolations have to be reckoned with: what is
uncertain is their extent. The question is ably discussed by D. L. PAGE, Actors’
Interpolations in Greek Tragedy, Oxford 1934.
This official copy is probably the manuscript which Ptolemy Euergetes ac-
quired from the Athenians by rather dubious methods (Galen in CMGV 10,
2. 1, 79). The definitive work on Attic tragedy was that done by Aristophanes of
Byzantium in Alexandria, which laid the foundations of all subsequent editions
and commentaries. The Alexandrian scholars received the works of Aeschylus
more or less intact. Losses first began to be suffered in the declining years of the
Roman empire, ultimately leaving only the seven plays which we now have. The
most general supposition, dating from Wilamowitz’ edition of the Heracles, has
been that these represent a selection made for school use in the Antonine period.
But in the light of new papyrus discoveries, this date may be too early.!
For the present manuscript situation H. W. SMyTH'’S ‘Catalogue of the Manu-
scripts of Aeschylus’ (Harv. Stud. Class. Phil. 44, 1933) needs to be supplemented
by a. TURYN’s The Manuscript Tradition of the Tragedies of Aeschylus (N.Y. 1943).
The variants in the manuscripts do not allow us to suppose that one of those
now existing is the archetype; but agreements in error are so numerous as to
suggest that they are all derived from one exemplar. Apparently in late antiquity
there was an uncial manuscript containing the seven surviving tragedies, which
survived the dark ages and became the basis of several Byzantine copies when
letters revived in the ninth century. It seems — as we see in papyri— to have had
variant readings added which satisfactorily explains the differences between the
surviving manuscript groups. The principal authority for the text is the Mediceus
(Laurentianus) 32, 9 which contains the seven tragedies, the best scholia on
them, and the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius. At a later date it was bound
up with the seven plays of Sophocles. Several leaves are lost, affecting large
parts of the Agamemnon (311-1066 and 1160-end) and the beginning of the
Choephoroe. This important manuscript was written about 1000 and was brought
from Constantinople to Italy by George Aurispa in 1423. It came into the
Laurentiana in the latter half of the fifteenth century.
The seven selected plays of late antiquity were reduced to an even narrower
selection of three by the Byzantines — Prometheus, Persae and Seven. The manu-
scripts of this class come from a single exemplar, which seems to be independent
of the Mediceus. Another manuscript group includes these three and the Aga-
memnon and Eumenides. A member of this group is the Neapolitanus (HVEse 7)
written by Triclinius himself about 1320. The importance of papyri in giving
us new material has already been discussed.

Bibliographical works: M. UNTERSTEINER, Guida bibliografica ad Eschilo. Arona

1947; also my reports on current work in AfdA 1948 etc. (last in 1961); H. J.
1 Cf. R. STARK, Annales Univ. Saraviensis. Philos.-Lettres 8, 1959, 35.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
METTE, Gyin. 62, 1955, 393. Editions: one must still mention GODEREY HER-
MANNS (Leipz. 1852, 2nd ed. 1859), which was very important in the establish-
ing of the text. The leading editions nowadays are: u. v. WILAMOwItz, Berl.
1914 (ed. min. 1915, repr. 1958); P. MAZON, Coll. des Un. de Fr., 7th ed. 1958;
G. MURRAY, 2nd ed. Oxf. 1955; M. UNTERSTEINER, Milan 1946; with Eng. trans.
in the Loeb Library by H. w. smytn, 2nd ed. Lond. 1957; with Germ. trans. in
the Tusculum-Biicherei by 0. WERNER, Munich 1959, with the fragments and a
good appendix. Interpretation: U. v. WILAMOWITZ, Aischylos-Interpretationen.
Berl. 1914. H. J. ROSE, A Commentary to the Surviving Plays of Aeschylus. 2 vols.
Verh. Nederl. Ak. Afd. Letterkunde, N. R. 64. 1 and 2. Amsterdam 1957-58.
Individual plays (editions and studies): Persae: ed. Pp. GROENEBOOM, Groningen
1930 (com. trans. into German, in two parts, Géttingen 1960, as Studientexte
Ill-1). M. PONTANI, Rome 1951. G. ITALIE, Leyden 1953. H. D. BROADHEAD,
Cambr. 1960, with aetailed commentary. L. ROUSSEL, Presses Univ. de France
1960 (original but rather problematical). (Stud.): kK. DEICHGRABER, V. sup. p.
245, n. 2. - Septem: (ed.): P. GROENEBOOM, Groningen 1938. G. ITALIE, Leyden
1950. (stud.) BE. FRAENKEL, Sitzb. Miinch. 1957-3, with a very fine analysis of the
pairs ofspeeches. On the filling ofa lacuna after v. 676: w. SCHADEWALDT, ‘Die
Wappnung des Eteokles’. Eranion. Festschr. Hommel. Tiibingen 1961, 105. The
spuriousness of the ending is maintained by w. POTSCHER, Eranos 56, 1958, 140.
The arguments against its being genuine are critically examined by H. LLoyD-
JONES, Class. Quart. 53, 1959, 80. The significance of the figure of Eteocles has
been the subject of several articles: E. WOLFF, “Die Entscheidung des E. in den
Sieben gegen Theben’. Harv. Stud. 63, 1958 (Festchr. Jaeger), 89. H. PATZER,
‘Die dramatische Handlung der Sieben gegen Theben’. ibid. 97. A. LEsKy,
‘“Eteokles in den Sieben gegen Theben’. Wien. Stud. 74, 1961, 5. K. v. FRITZ,
‘Die Gestalt des Eteokles in Aesch. “Sieben gegen Theben’’’. Antike und moderne
Tragédie. Berl. 1962, 193. — Supplices: (ed.): J. vURTHEIM, Amsterdam 1928. M.
UNTERSTEINER, Naples 1935. W. KRAUS, Frankfurt a. M. 1948. (stud.): R. P.
WINNINGTON-INGRAM, ‘The Danaid-Trilogy of Aeschylus’. Journ. Hell. Stud.
81, 1961, 141. Prometheus: (ed.): P. GROENEBOOM, Groningen 1928. E. RAPISARDA,
Turin 1936. 0. LONGO, Rome 1959. (stud.): J. COMAN, ‘L’Authenticité du Prom.
enchainé’. Bucharest 1943. W. KRAUS, RE 23, 1957, 666. B. H. FOWLER, ‘The
Imagery of Prometheus Bound’. Am. Journ. Phil. 78, 1957, 173. H. S. LONG,
‘Notes on Aesch. Prom. Bound.’ Proc. Am. Philos. Soc. 102-3, 1958, 229. G.
MEAUTIS, L’ Authenticité et la date du Prom. enchainé d’ Esch. Geneva 1960.— Oresteia
(ed.): w. G. HEADLAM — G. THOMSON, Cambr. 1938. (stud.): BE. R. DODDS, ‘Morals
and Politics in the Oresteia’. Proc. Camb. Phil. Soc. 186, 1960, 19. K. Vv. FRITZ,
‘Die Orestessage bei den drei grossen griech. Tragikern’. Antike und moderne
Tragédie. Berl. 1962, 113. One mentions only under protest the perverse attempt
of R. BOHME to represent our Oresteia as a concoction for the stage in 408-405:
Biihnenbearbeitung Aesch. Tragddien. Basel 1956; part 2, Basel 1959; also “Apxv-
arata. Die Sprache 7, 1961, 199. — Agamemnon: (ed.): Pp. GROBNEBOOM, Gro-
ningen 1944. E. FRAENKEL, 3 vols. Oxf. 1950, a monumental edition with an
English translation, useful for the whole field of tragedy. G. AMMENDOLA,
K 269
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Florence 1956. J. D. DENNISTON and D. PAGE. Oxf. 1957. (stud.): BE. FRAENKEL,
Der Ag. des Aisch. Ziirich 1957 (lecture). Choephori: (ed.): P. GROENEBOOM,
Groningen 1949. - Eumenides: (ed.): P. GROENEBOOM, SCM 1952. (stud.):
s. J. LURJA, Die politische Tendenz der Trag. ‘Die Eum. Bibl. Class. Or. 1960,
295. Fragments: (ed.): a. NAUCK, Trag. Graec. Fragm. and ed. Leipz. 1889.
H. J. METTE, Suppl. Aeschyl. Berl. 1939; with supplement Berl. 1949. B. CANTA-
RELLA, I nuovi frammenti eschilei di Ossirinco. Naples 1948. Selection in D. L. PAGE,
Literary Papyri. Loeb Class. Lib. 1950. H. J. METTE, Die Fragmente der Tragodien
des Aisch. Berlin 1959 (a very full edition, to which a second volume is promised
containing a translation, and a commentary tying the fragments together).
LLOYD-JONES’s appendix to the edition of H. W. SMYTH is very valuable for its
textual suggestions on the larger papyrus fragments and its detailed biblio-
graphies. On various fragments see also W. STEFFEN, Studia Aeschylea. Breslau
1958. (stud.): Niobe: bibliography in pace (v. sup.). Myrmidones: w. SCHADE-
WALDT, Hermes 71, 1936, 25. K. vySOKY, “Aischylova Achilleis’. Listy Filo-
logické 81, 1958, 147. A bowl in Vienna relevant to the trilogy: H. KENNER, Oest.
Jahrh. 33, 1941, 1; on the Dictyulci: x. PFEIFFER, ‘Die Netzfischer des Aisch. und
der Inachos des Soph.’. Sitzb. Miinch. 1938, 12. E. SIEGMANN, Die neuen Aischy-
los-Bruchstiicke’. Phil. 97, 1948, 71 (deals also with the smaller papyrus frag-
ments). A. SETTI, “Eschilo Satirico’. Ann. Scuola Norm. di Pisa 1948, 1 and 1952,
3 (deals also with the Isthmiastae). M. WERRE-DE HAAS, Aeschylus’ Dictyulci. An
Attempt at Reconstruction of a Satyric Drama. Leyden 1961. Isthmiastae: B.
SNELL, Aischylos’ Isthmiastai’. Heri. 84, 1956, I. K. REINHARDT, ibid. 85, 1957,
1 (now in Tradition und Geist. Géttingen 1960, 167). The Heidelberg papyrus 185
is tentatively attibuted to the Prom. Lyom. by £. SiEGMANN, Lit. griech. Texte der
Heidelberg. Pap. Sammlung. Heidelb. 1956, 21. See also K. REINHARDT, Herm. 85,
1957, 12 (now in Tradition und Geist. Gétt. 1960, 182), who supposes that Pan-
dora emerges to the accompaniment of blows from a hammer. N. TERZAGHI,
‘Il Prom. di Heidelberg’. Athenaeum N.S. 39, 1961, 3. Pap. Heidelb. 186 may
come from the opening of the Danae, according to M. GIGANTE, Parola del pass.
51, 1956, 449. Pap. Ox. nr. 2253 is attributed by Rr. sTaRK, Herm. 82, 1954, 372,
to the prologue of the Iphigenia, with Calchas speaking.— Scholia: w. DINDORE,
Oxf. 1851; on the Persae: 0. DAHNHARDT, Leipz. 1894.- Lexica: W. DINDORE.
Lexicon Aeschyleum. Leipz. 1873. G. ITALIE, Index Aeschyleus. Leyden 1955.
Translations: Droysen’s German trans. has been reprinted by w. NESTLE, 4th
ed. Stuttgart 1957, and by w. FrrepRIcH in his Tragici Graeci. Munich 1958.
Eng. trans. in vol. 1 of The Complete Greek Tragedies, by D. GRENE and R. LATTI-
MORE, Univ. of Chicago Press 1959. Italian by c. CARENA, Einaudi 1956.
WILAMOWIT2Z’S translation of the Oresteia had enormous influence in its time. —
Language: C. F. KUMANIECKI, De elocutionis Aeschyleae natura. Archivum Filo-
logiczne 12. Krakéw 1935. w. B. STANFORD, Aeschylus in his Style. Dublin 1942.
F. R. EARP, The Style of Aeschylus. Cambr. 1948. DOROTHY M. CLAY, A Formal
Analysis of the Vocabularies of Aesch ylus, Sophocles and Euripides. 2 parts. American
School in Athens 1958 and Minneap. 1960. LEIF BERGSON, L’ Epithete ornamentale
dans Esch., Soph. et Eurip. Uppsala (Lund) 1956. er. JOHANSEN, General Reflections
270
 PIES tEOWRRING FOR HE GRERK CITY SPATE
in Tragic Rhesis. Copenhagen 1959. Monographs: WALTER NESTLE, Menschliche
Existenz und politische Erziehung in der Tragédie des Aisch. Tiib. Beitr. 23, 1934.
G. MURRAY, Aeschylus, the Creator of Tragedy. Oxf. 940. R. CANTARELLA, Es-
chilo. Florence 1941. G. THOMSON, Aeschylus and Athens. 2nd ed. Lond. 1946.
K. REINHARDT, Aischylos als Regisseur und Theologe. Berne 1949. F. SOLMSEN,
Hesiod and Aeschylus. New York 1949. A. MADDALENA, Interpretazioni eschilee.
Turin 1951. BE. T. OWEN, The Harmony of Aeschylus. Toronto 1952. M. UNTER-
STEINER, Le Origini della trag. 2nd ed. Einaudi 1955. J. H. FINLEY, JR., Pindar and
Aeschylus. Harvard Univ. Press 1955. D. KAUFMANN-BUHLER, Begriff und
Funktion der Dike in den Trag. des Aisch. Bonn 1955. G. J. M. J. TE RIELE, Les
femmes chez Eschyle. Groningen 1955. W. KRAUS, Strophengestaltung in der griech.
Tragédie. I. Aisch. u. Soph. Sitzb. Oest. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 231-4, 1957. J. DE
ROMILLY, La Crainte et l’angoisse dans le thédtre d’Eschyle. Paris 1958, a book
which, starting from the words, penetrates deep into the spirit of Aeschylean
tragedy. Ead., L’Evolution du pathétique d’ Esch. a Euripide. Paris 1961. J. KELLER,
Struktur und dram. Funktion der Botenberichte bei Aisch. u. Soph. Diss. Tiibingen
1959 (typewritten). W. KIEFNER, Der religidse Allbegriff des Aisch. Diss. Tiibingen
1959 (typewritten). E. MOUTSOPOULOS, ‘Une Philosophie de la musique chez
Esch.’ Rev. Et. Gr. 72, 1959, 18. H. D. F. KITTO, Form and Meaning in Drama. 2nd
ed. Lond. 1960. See also the sections in POHLENZ, HARSH, LESKY, KITTO and D.
w. Lucas, Greek Tragic Poets. 2nd ed. Lond. 1959.

2” SOPHOCEES

In ancient tradition the names of the three great tragedians are strikingly linked
with the decisive battle of the Persian wars. Aeschylus fought at Salamis;
Sophocles was one of a chorus of beautiful boys who danced to celebrate the
victory; Euripides was born on the very day of the battle. The first two state-
ments may be believed. The whole tradition, however, can be given a deeper
meaning as symbolizing the significance to each man of those days when
Athens burned and freedom was won. For Aeschylus those happenings were the
ultimate attestation of divine justice; they shed a bright lustre over the life
of Sophocles; Euripides could only hear of them from the generation before
his own.
We may look upon the story in this way if we wish, but it arose simply
from the passion for striking synchronisms which prevailed among ancient
historians. It was permissible for such a purpose to adjust or even to invent
dates. The date of Sophocles’ birth is one which has been involved in uncertainty
through constructions of this kind.t Of the various reports which we have, that
of the Marmor Parium, dating it in 497-496, seems the most plausible.
His death, however, can be dated accurately enough. There is no reason to
doubt the touching story in the ancient life of Euripides, that on the news of
his rival’s death Sophocles dressed his chorus and actors in mourning at the
proagon of the Dionysia in 406. But when Aristophanes produced the Frogs at
the Lenaea of 405 Sophocles was already dead.
1 p, JACOBY, F Gr Hist on 239 Marm. Par. ep. 56 and 64 and on Apollodorus F 35.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

In the comic literary criticism of that play Aristophanes brings out the con-
trast between Aeschylus and Euripides —a contrast between two epochs. This
duel left no room for Sophocles, but Aristophanes made a virtue of necessity
and removed him from the contest with a neat piece of characterization (82)
which pleasingly attests the tragedian’s tranquil and peace-loving temper. This
was how the Athenians had known him while he lived. The manuscript Life
which sometimes accompanies his tragedies, a late Hellenistic production,
attests the charm of his personality, which won all hearts. The poet who knew
the tragedy of human life and the very depths of sorrow as no other did, lived
his outward life in a warm and peaceful light, and served his fellows as an
example of a happy man.
His father was Sophillus, who gained his wealth from the manufactures of
his slaves. The family was a distinguished one in Athens. The stress laid by the
Life on his education in gymnastics and music accords well with his receiving the
honour of appearing in the celebrations for Salamis. If his music-teacher really
was Lamprus, he was following a good academic tradition, since the Pseudo-
Plutarch De Musica groups Lamprus together with Pindar and Pratinas (1142 b).
The Life declares that it was Sophocles’ love of Athens (¢:Aa#nvaidtaros) that
made him refuse invitations to the courts of kings. There may be a grain of
truth here: certainly, so far as we know, Sophocles never left his city except
upon its service. There is another respect in which he differs sharply from the
other two tragedians: he signalized his participation in the life of the city by
undertaking high public office. The Athenians were struck by his being chosen
strategus in the Samian War together with Pericles (441-440). The hypothesis
of the Antigone says that the appointment was a recognition of his poetic genius.
In Athens at that time such a thing is conceivable. However that may be,
Sophocles saw no fighting when he was one of the ten strategi. The soul of the
college of generals was of course Pericles. Athenaeus! has preserved a contem-
porary story from the Epidemiae of Ion of Chios concerning the poet’s stay on
that island. The Athenian proxenus on Chios entertained the distinguished guest,
who most engagingly displayed his wit and wide reading over the dinner-table.
When he succeeded in snatching a kiss from a beautiful boy who poured out the
wine, he remarked that he was not half such a bad strategist as Pericles imagined.
The justice of this ironic self-criticism is borne out by Ion’s own statement, that
in the service of the state Sophocles displayed no particular ability or energy;
in fact he behaved very much like any man in the Athenian street. All the reports
fit together: those depths from which Sophocles’ poetry of human fragility and
suffering was born underlay a surface of peace and happiness, of light and
animation.
Rather unreliable reports? make it Just possible that Sophocles became strategus
once again. His work in the principal financial commission of the state may well
have been more important than his service in the field. Since the tribute-lists
1 13. 603 E=Ion fr. 8 Blumenthal.
2 Vita 9. Plutarch Nic. 15. 2. Cf. EHRENBERG (v. inf.), 117, 1. H. D. WESTLAKE, ‘Sophocles
and Nicias’. Herm. 84, 1956, 110.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

for the year 443-442 name only him as Hellenotamias, he must have held a special
place — probably the presidency — in that body." This is the first occasion that a
Hellenotamias is named in this way - an indication of the particular importance
of that year of office, in which the Hellenotamiae made important innovations
concerning the tribute from the maritime league.
The balance and sanity which Sophocles displayed to the world was probably
the reason for his election in old age to that college of probouloi which after the
Sicilian catastrophe had to face the oligarchical determination to have a tighter
discipline in the state. Aristotle tells us this in Rhet. 1419 a 26, and goes on to
report that Sophocles said to Pisander, referring to the putsch of 411, that he
could not favour it, but there was no other way.
What we hear of Sophocles’ various official posts is quite extraneous to the
understanding of his poetry. It is interesting only as adding to his portrait a few
strokes that do not come from the central qualities of his genius. What we hear
of his activity in the worship of the gods is much more relevant. It was only
recently that a clear picture could first be drawn.? In 420 the Athenians took up
the cult of Asclepius, the great healer-god of Epidaurus, and Sophocles was
given official duties in the establishment of the cult. A paean which he composed
for the god was still sung in Philostratus’ time (Vita Apollon. Tyan. 3. 17), and
remains of it survived on fragments of inscriptions from the Empire (cf. D.
Anth. Lyr. Suppl. 4 and 56). In return for such services Sophocles himself was
posthumously honoured as a hero under the name of Dexion. His special connec-
tion with Asclepius is explained by the statement in the Life that he was priest of a
healer-hero called Halon. When the excavations on the western slope of the
Acropolis disclosed the shrine of a healer-god Amynus dating back to the sixth
century including inscriptions naming Asclepius and Dexion, it was thought
that for the Halon of the Life we should read Amynus. But O. Walter has now
shown that the two inscriptions IG 22, 1252 f. refer unmistakably to two shrines
— one of Amynus and Asclepius, the other of Dexion. The reason for Kérte’s
proposed emendation thus vanishes. We follow the Life in connecting Sophocles
with Halon, although we cannot say very much about this hero, except that
he is reckoned to have studied with Asclepius under Chiron.
In very sharp contrast to Euripides, Sophocles quickly won and long main-
tained a favourable public. In his youth he is said to have followed the ancient
practice of appearing in person on the stage: his lyre-playing as Thamyris and
ball-playing as Nausicaa in plays of those titles were long remembered in
Athens. He is said to have given up this practice because of the weakness of his
voice. Sophocles must have begun to produce about the time when the actor-
playwright tradition was dying out. The explanation offered by the Life is most
likely an aetiological invention: in reality the increasing demands on the actor’s
technique enforced this separation of function.

1 EHRENBERG (v. inf.), 120.

2 O. WALTER, ‘Das Priestertum des Sophokles’. Festschr. Keramopullos. Athens 1953, 469.
Reception of Asclepius: w1LAMOw11zZ, Glaube der Hellenen. 2, 1932, 224. Attribution of an
anonymous paean to Sophocles: J. H. OLIVER, Hesperia 5, 1936, 91.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

It was in 468 that Sophocles produced his first play. We read in Plutarch’s
life of Cimon that on this occasion the leader of the aristocratic party together
with his nine fellow-generals took on the duties of judges at the request of the
archon presiding over the games, and that they awarded the prize to Sophocles.
From Pliny, Nat. Hist. 18. 65 Lessing inferred that the victorious tetralogy prob-
ably included the Triptolemus. The story of the Eleusinian hero who on his
winged chariot carried the gifts of Demeter and thereby the blessings of civiliza-
tion all over the world must have been a subject very near to the hearts of the
Athenians.
The inscription listing the victors at the Dionysia (IG 22. 232 5) gives Sophocles
eighteen victories. Suidas gives twenty-four, the Life twenty. The larger num-
bers are more probably right, and include victories at the Lenaea.' The
Life gives some other valuable notices, such as that Sophocles was never beaten
into third place in the competition and that Aristophanes of Byzantium had
texts of 130 of his plays at Alexandria, of which, however, seven? were
reckoned spurious. The knowledge that the Alexandrians - assuredly not with-
out reason — excluded so many plays as spurious ought to give pause to
those who seek to dismiss the problem of the genuineness of particular plays
(e.g. the Rhesus of Euripides) simply by declaring how improbable it seems
that spurious plays should have crept into a corpus of pieces attributed to any
author.
According to Suidas Sophocles also wrote paeans and elegies. We spoke of
pacans in connection with Asclepius, and an ode to Herodotus (D. Anth. Lyr.
fasc. 1, p. 79), which the poet says he wrote at the age of fifty-five, is attested
by a considerable fragment. We are a little doubtful when the same Suidas tells
us that Sophocles also wrote a prose treatise On the Chorus, in which he con-
trasted himself with Thespis and Choerilus. We do, however, know that in
Sophocles’ day such men as Ictinus, architect of the Parthenon, and the sculptor
Polyclitus wrote technical treatises on their art, and it is possible that Sophocles
may have expressed his views similarly on questions connected with the chorus.
Its numerical strength may have been one of the things discussed. The Life and
Suidas are good evidence for his having increased the number from twelve to
fifteen. This innovation either came later than the Oresteia of Aeschylus or was
not adopted by him. Where the third actor was concerned, on the other hand,
Aeschylus followed the younger poet’s lead.3 Aristotle’s statement in the fourth
chapter of the Poetics, that Sophocles introduced scene-painting, is difficult for
us to interpret in the development of stage painting in antiquity, since we know
so little about it. But fortunately we can form a clear idea of one innovation
which was of great importance for the structure of tragedy. Sophocles gave up
the trilogy unified by subject in favour of separate, independent pieces. He gave

« Cf. c. fF. RUSSO, Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 166, 2. On production dates see H. HOFFMANN,
Chronologie der attischen Tragédie. Diss. Hamb. 1951 (typewritten),
* The Vita names 17, but the emendation proposed by T. BERGK brings this
up to a
reasonable figure which can be reconciled with Suidas’ figure of 123 plays.
3 Cf. PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Dram. Festivals 1953, WeYAlig

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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

up thereby a great compositional form, which had probably been the personal
creation of Aeschylus; but this loss was compensated by increased tautness of
structure in the separate plays. In the last resort this development expresses the
tendency in Sophocles to make his tragedies more and more concerned with
the fate of the individual as a central theme. But to break up the thematic trilogy
was not a thing that Sophocles always did. The didascalic inscription from
Aixona’ speaks of a Telephia which may be plausibly assumed to have centred
on the fortunes of Telephus, Heracles’ son who later became king of the
Mysians.
Our fragmentary tradition makes us see the great figures of classical antiquity
in isolation, and we forget how lively their relations must have been with the
intellectual movements of the time. We have to bear this in mind in considering
the rather difficult statement of the Life, that Sophocles formed a ‘O/acos to the
Muses from the circle of the cultivated’. A thiasos to the Muses is mentioned also
in Aristophanes (Thesm. 41), and in connection with Sophocles we must think
of a circle which combined sociability with wit and learning. The tone of such
a gathering is probably illustrated by the conversation on Chios which we men-
tioned earlier. The consecration to the Muses is of course in keeping with the
period.
Our biographical tradition contains so much pure anecdote that it is often
hard to say where fable ends and usable history begins. Thus the tale of family
discord’s having darkened Sophocles’ later years has been and will be variously
estimated. Iophon, the poet’s son by Nicostrate, is said to have brought an action
against his father before the phratores because he had unduly preferred a grand-
son in a collateral line. This grandson was also called Sophocles, and was the son
of one Ariston, who was Sophocles’ son by the Sicyonian Theoris.? Sophocles
certainly did have a son Ariston and other descendants by that line, but the
story of the action to have the old man put under his son’s tutelage — which in
any case could not have been presented before the phratores - is the more open
to doubt since the name of Satyrus appears in connection with it in the Life. We
shall need to consider the qualities of this writer in discussing the biography of
Euripides.
The poet’s death afforded particular scope for fables of this kind. To indicate
once for all the character of these fables we give an example from the Life.
First Sophocles choked while eating a grape. Secondly he overstrained himself
reading a long section of the Antigone (note in passing the testimony to reading
of the plays aloud). Thirdly, he died of joy at a victory! On the other hand, the
inventions of the biographers can be as pleasing as the following: during the
siege of Athens, being twice warned by Dionysus in a dream, Lysander allowed
free passage to Sophocles on his last journey to the family grave that lay by the
road to Decelea.

1 PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Op. Cit. 53. On the content of the individual pieces Aleads,
Mysians, and Assembly of the Achaeans sce A. SZANTYR, “Die Telephostrilogie des Soph.’.
Phil. 93, 1938, 287. S. SREBRNY, Studia scaenica. Breslau 1960.
2 Cf. the family tree in RE 3 A 1927, 1042.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Of the various portraits! of the poet the statue in the Lateran is the best known.
It must be remembered, however, that the head is the result of a classicistic re-
touching by Tenerani. The plaster cast in the Villa Medici is older. It shows a
countenance which breathes at once the fullness and freshness of life and a pro-
foundly serious mind.
We are not too badly informed about the chronology of Sophocles’ plays,
although we cannot date them very precisely. We have only two exact dates,
both for plays of the last period. The Philoctetes was produced in 409, the Oedipus
Coloneus not until 401, after his death. There is less certainty about the dating of
the Antigone in 442. But since the hypothesis tells us that Sophocles was chosen
strategus in the Samian war in recognition of this play, we can most easily
understand this as a post hoc, propter hoc. Certainly we cannot suppose long to
have elapsed between the Antigone and Sophocles’ command.
Thus we have a few fixed points around which the rest can be arranged with
fair probability. It is a view commonly held, and based on archaic features in
language and composition, that the Ajax is the oldest of the surviving pieces,
and was probably written between 460 and 450.
The opening of this play is the only one in Greek drama (as we possess it)
which brings a great Olympian deity onto the stage. Unseen to Odysseus, but
hardly to the audience, Athene has followed her protégé on his solitary walk.
In the adjudging of the arms of Achilles Ajax had been placed second to Odys-
seus. In the night he rushed forth to avenge himself with the sword upon his
opponent; but the goddess struck him with madness, so that he fell upon the
Greek flocks and slaughtered them. A confused report of this has reached Odys-
seus, and he goes to find the truth at Ajax’s own tent. He now hears it from the
goddess, who also tells him that Ajax is now sitting crazed in his tent, tormenting
sheep which he imagines to be Greeks. The Athene here portrayed has two
aspects. First she appears as the Homeric deity, dispensing favour according to
her whim to those she loves; in this character she calls Ajax out from the tent,
to afford Odysseus that delight which she calls the highest — triumph over a
fallen enemy. But the poet here provides a most beautiful antithesis. The Odys-
seus of the closing scenes is here foreshadowed, and he is given traits of humanity
which here and elsewhere raise Sophocles’ poetry above his own age.? Odysseus
wants none of this pleasure that Athene credits him with; he steels himself for
the spectacle that awaits him; when he cannot escape it, he has only words of
deepest compassion. Even more, in the fate of his enemy he recognizes his own
lot as a mortal, and his words of deep insight into the darkling life of human
beings make him the very type of a spectator of Sophoclean tragedy.
Yet this same Athene, who plays her cruel game with the defeated Ajax, is
elevated at the end of the prologue scene into a grave moral adviser. The gods,

' On portraits of ancient writers in general: 1. LAURENZI, Ritratti greci. Florence 1941.
A. HEKLER, Bildnisse beriihmter Griechen. 2nd ed. Berl. 1942. K. SCHEFOLD, Die Bildnisse der
antiken Dichter, Redner und Denker. Basel 1943. The head of Sophocles in w. SCHADEWALDT
Soph. u. das Leid. Potsdam 1948 (now in Hellas und Hesperien. Ziirich 1960, plate 3)
2 Cf. Sophokles und das Humane (v. inf.).
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

she says, love reverence and self-restraint in men: overweening arrogance they
can punish terribly. The voice is the voice of Athene, but the sentiments are
those of her Delphic brother.
After the prologue, in which the central problems of the piece are presented,
the chorus of Salaminian sailors comes on. Tecmessa, Ajax’s slave-wife, tells
them of the dreadful events of the night; then she opens the tent, and we see
Ajax, his mind now recovered, sitting amid the slaughtered sheep. He had
thought himself injured in his honour by the judgment of the arms: now he
realizes that through his frantic action honour is wholly lost. With lofty resolu-
tion he draws the conclusion which his character makes inevitable: to live in
honour or to die in honour becomes the noble soul (479). Inaccessible to the
prayers of his wife and of the chorus, he says goodbye to his little son. As he
goes to die — the only road now open to Ajax — there is a strange interlude,
which has occasioned the most various misunderstandings.! After a choral ode,
full of gloom and foreboding, Ajax comes out of the tent again and declares
that he has learned to understand a law of the universe which is based on per-
petual change and demands subjection even from him. Accordingly he is going
to purify himself by bathing in the sea, bury the fatal sword which Hector once
gave him, and make his peace with the Atridae. It used to be thought that Ajax
cannot lie, and the speech was taken as an expression of his true intention.
Others, however, correctly understood the final words about the journey that
he must take and the redemption that he hopes to find, but gave a peculiar sense
to the speech as a whole: Ajax is as determined on death as before, but he is a
changed man, with insight into a moral law which he was wrong to break.
Against such interpretations we must make the sober observation that this dis-
sembling speech, more than any other in the play, has a necessary dramatic
function. It takes Ajax away from the protective care of his friends, and leaves
him an open road to death. This is, of course, not all that is to be said. The empha-
sis with which Ajax speaks of change and reconciliation as laws of existence has
a particular significance. But Ajax does not recognize here that he has made a
mistake: he recognizes only one thing, that his whole character has no place in
a world of this kind. Taken in this sense, the passage reveals the inner tragedy
of this piece at its deepest level.?
There is another respect in which this speech is significant in the articulation
of the drama. The chorus believes Ajax, and sings an ode of relief and jubilation.
We find similar odes before the catastrophe in the Antigone and the Oedipus
Tyrannus. This feature of Sophocles’ technique was so well known in antiquity
that it was referred to by a technical term as ‘stretching’ or ‘intensification’ of
tragedy. But this device is not just a trick of the trade to make the following
t A selection of misunderstandings in R. EBELING, ‘Misverstindnisse um den Aias des
Sophokles’. Herm. 76, 1941, 283. He adds to them.
2 Chilon of Sparta, among many other proverbs, was credited with the one odrws guAciv
cis puonoovra (Favorinus, Ilepi duyfs 18). This is a worldly wisdom to which Ajax feels him-
self in irreconcilable conflict. Odysseus’ policy, on the other hand, is pucety cis pudrjoovra.
3 DONATUS on Ter. Andr. 297: Haec omnis rapéxracs (coni. R. STEPHANUS, meploTaats
codd.) tragica est: gaudiorum introductio ante funestissimum nuntium.
K2 277
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

catastrophe plunge into an even deeper abyss: it serves also to underline the
fallibility of human reasoning — a favourite theme of Sophoclean tragedy.
The rejoicing of the chorus quickly dies away when a messenger brings a
warning from the seer Calchas; today Ajax must be guarded with all care,
for the anger of Athene threatens to destroy him. If he survive this day, he can
be saved. In the deepest anxiety the chorus and Tecmessa go off to look for
their friend.
The scene now changes. We find Ajax on the seashore. The change of scene
could very easily be contrived by playing the scene of Ajax’s death before one
of the parascenia, the lateral projections of the stage structure. Some bushes
would easily provide the necessary cover for his falling on the sword and the
exit of the actor, who is required in another part for the next scene. In a soliloquy
before his death Ajax gives vent once again to his anger against the Atridae;
then with profound and intimate feeling he casts a look at the world that he is
leaving: the light of day, the meadows of his own country and the rivers of
Troy.
This soliloquy of Ajax’s comes not much more than halfway through the
play: the drama of the hero’s death is followed by a dispute over his posthumous
honour. Tecmessa and the chorus find the body, and in their mourning they
are soon joined by Teucer, the hero’s half-brother, It is he who now leads the
struggle against Menelaus and Agamemnon whose implacable hatred wishes to
leave the corpse to dogs and vultures. In this contest he would be doomed to
failure if he did not find an ally in Odysseus, who obtains honourable burial for
the dead man.
This second part of the Ajax prefigures in a remarkable way the Antigone. In
both conflict rages over the forbidding of burial, and humanity raises its voice
against the revengeful will of an authority that does not know its own limits.
Here the protest is voiced by Odysseus, who in the prologue saw Ajax only as
an enemy. In his narrow hatred that extends even beyond the grave, Agamem-
non cannot understand Odysseus, The latter knows what it is to hate an enemy,
but he knows also the limits of that destructive passion (1347), and he knows
the dead man’s rights, which cannot suffer wilful infringement. When Odysseus
says to Teucer (1376) that he wishes now to be his friend just as much as he was
once his enemy, and makes himself willing to assist in obtaining honourable
burial for the man who had been his bitterest foe, the narrow confines of hatred
are left behind for that love which distinguishes the poet’s noblest character.
Already in antiquity critics found fault (cf. schol. ad 1 193) with the structure
of the play, and in modern times it has been blamed for having a second and not
much shorter part of the drama after the hero’s death. But is the fate of Ajax in
fact decided by his throwing himself on his own sword? Is not the fate of his
corpse to ancient notions just as much a part of his history as what he did or
suffered in his life? The inner unity of the play is undeniable, and it is visibly
brought out by the presence of the corpse on the stage, with little Eurysaces
kneeling beside it. But, on the other hand, it would be paradoxical to maintain
that it has that admirable compactness of structure which characterizes high
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classical plays such as the Oedipus. The play has been well described as being in
diptych form, and we shall find a similar structure recurring in the plays which
immediately follow.
The difficult problem of interpretation here lies in the question: How far is
the catastrophe to be considered as arising from the hero’s own fault? One con-
stantly finds the simple view stated that the hero’s hybris is atoned for by his
sufferings. Does not Athene at the end of the prologue speak of the anger of
the gods against the overweening? Does not Calchas in his warning say that
Ajax has twice injured the goddess by rebellious words? We are rather diffident
nowadays of such simple estimates of ancient tragedy, especially Sophoclean
tragedy,! and the Ajax has features which heighten that diffidence. The hybris
of Ajax is not to be denied, but how strikingly marginal it is as a theme! It
occurs in quite general terms in Athene’s warning at the end of the prologue,
and it is not made specific until the prophecy of Calchas in v. 762. What a
striking limitation in time it is, that Athene’s anger threatens the hero for this
one day only: if he can be kept safe so long, he can be saved. In this context
Franz Dirlmeier’s observation? is very important, that the hybris of Ajax was a
theme already supplied from epic poetry: Sophocles simply took it over and
included it in his Ajax. The play, however, is not simply a drama of crime and
punishment: it is the tragedy of the great man, whose excessive strength draws
down lightning on his head and feels the full force of its deadly fires. Friedrich
Welcker3 perceived this better than many more recent critics when he said: “It
seems to me that Ajax fulfils his dramatic role more through what he is than
through what he has done’.
It is also a tenable view that the Sophocles of the fifties, taking up the theme
of guilt without giving it a central importance, had freed himself largely but
not wholly from the influence of Aeschylus. This theory runs parallel to an
expression of the poet’s which is preserved by respectable tradition: to reach
self-fulfilment he had to free himself first from the grandiose style of Aeschylus,
then from his own tendency to harshness and artificiality.
With some reservations to be made when we discuss the Trachiniae we can
reckon it likely that the Antigone is the second oldest of the surviving plays.$
We considered earlier how reliable the date 442 is.
There is no other play in which Sophocles brings out the leading themes so
forcibly. Equally there is no other that has been so long and so determinedly
misunderstood. The cause was the authority of Hegel, who highly praised the
play in his Asthetik (I 2. 1) while interpreting Creon and Antigone as repre-
senting state and family respectively. These are two opposing worlds of equal
1K, v. FRITZ, ‘Tragische Schuld und poetische Gerechtigkeit in der griech. Tragédie’.
Studium Generale 8, 1955, 194 and 219; now in Antike und moderne Tragédie. Berlin 1962, 1.
2 ‘Der Aias des Soph.’ (v. inf.), 308.
3 Rhein. Mus. 3, 1829, 68.
4 Plut. De Prof. in Virt. 7, 79 B; cf. c. M. BOWRA, ‘Sophocles on his own Development’.
Am. Journ. Phil. 61, 1940, 385. .
s On the previous history of the theme, which seems to go back to the epics, see H.
LLOYD-JONES, Class. Quart. 1959, 96.
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moral validity, whose representatives must needs come into a conflict that
destroys both. What Hegel sketches out is a tragic theme of great potentiality -
one which was developed in philosophy by Schopenhauer and in literature by
Hebbel, and which has played its part in modern discussions of tragedy. But as
applied to the Antigone the theory of equal but opposed schemes of values is a
misinterpretation. ,
Polynices, who has organized the expedition of the seven against his native
city, has died before her walls, an enemy of his country. Burial in his native
soil might justly be refused him according to Greek notions of law, provided
he was laid to his last rest somewhere outside the confines. But Creon, who has
become master of Thebes after the mutual killing of the brothers, goes far be-
yond this. He sets guards over the corpse to ensure that it is torn by dogs and
vultures and that the remains rot in the sun. The Athenians who heard this
Creon speaking could not but recall the curse which a priest from the family of
the Buzyges had pronounced among them on anyone who left a corpse un-
buried. Sophocles’ Creon is not the spokesman of a state which knows its rights
and also its limitations. He is driven on by that arrogance which only recognizes
itself: a hybris which is doubly dangerous, doubly culpable when it claims to
speak with the voice of authority. The Antigone is not a propaganda-play, but
in the actions and sufferings of its characters the question is clearly posed whether
the state can lay claim to ultimate validity and authority, or whether it has to
obey laws which have their origin elsewhere and which remain always beyond
its reach.
The play runs its course as a drama of developing resistance to Creon and his
gradual condemnation on all hands. The resistance is led by Antigone, and the
poet makes her perform two acts of rebellion. On the first occasion she contrives
unnoticed to throw a light coating of dust over her brother’s corpse; then when
the guards have again uncovered the rotting body, she comes back and is caught
while trying to renew this symbolic burial. The repetition of the theme serves
the single purpose of making her rebellion against Creon appear as forcibly
as the difficult circumstances of the attempted burial permit. In addition we are
allowed to see Antigone momentarily triumphant, before we share the sorrow
of her defeat.
Scarcely has Creon pronounced sentence of death upon Antigone when the
process begins which is to lead to his destruction. His son Haemon, who loves
Antigone, is the first to reject him. After a long dispute, beginning with mild
filial expostulation and ending with a cry of despair, Haemon leaves his father’s
presence. From his lips Creon has had to learn that the city is unanimous in con-
demning his judgment (692. 733); but he stands firmly on what he takes to be
his and the state’s rights. Creon is not a vulgar tyrant who knowingly does
what is wrong. His belief that his own power and that of the state (he equates
them in v. 738) has no limits so inextricably ensnares him that his progress from
hybris to disaster is not merely a moral paradigm but a piece of true tragedy.
The gods also abandon Creon. They do so first through the mouth of the
seer Tiresias, who speaks of the ominous signs which show that the city is
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polluted by the presence of the unburied corpse. By now Creon is full of rash
and hasty thoughts; the gods have made him mad. He suspects that the seer has
been suborned; in a last access of arrogance he declares that the dead man shall
not be buried even if the eagles of Zeus carry the remnants of the corpse to the
throne of the most high. But when Tiresias has gone after pronouncing a
terrible curse, that Creon will pay in his own flesh and blood for his impiety
against the dead, Creon’s blindness, pride and folly suddenly collapse, and he
determines to save what can yet be saved.
But the gods will not take his change of heart as expiation. In the under-
ground chamber from which he resolves to free Antigone he finds her hanged.
Haemon, after a wild outburst of hatred against his father, kills himself upon
her body. A messenger reports the event to Eurydice, Creon’s wife, who goes
without a word into the palace, where she curses her husband and dies. Broken
and abandoned, Creon remains, spared only to recognize his mistake too late.
The play is a drama of two characters. Without being able to lay stress on
either one, we can speak of a tragedy of Antigone and a tragedy of Creon.
Hegel’s influence has caused long-lasting doubt whether we can speak of ‘tragic
guilt’ in connection with Creon. Victor Ehrenberg’s splendid book might have
been designed to put an end once for all to this false interpretation. What Anti-
gone stands for is made clear in the great scene of conflict with Creon. She stands
for the eternal, immutable divine law, which cannot be disturbed by any human
pretensions to power. The whole feeling of the passage tells us that she is ex-
pressing the poet’s own convictions, and the feeling is supported by the unequi-
vocal testimony of the Oedipus Tyrannus (865), where Sophocles praises the law
of heaven, which has its origin with the gods and not in the nature of man.
Ehrenberg has shown that the common opinion which makes Sophocles and
Pericles representatives of a basically unitary epoch at the summit of the classical
period conceals in fact a very significant difference. The poet and the statesman
were respectively representatives of a theonomic and an anthroponomic view
of the world - not indeed in open conflict, but in a state of tension which fore-
shadowed the battle of giants (Plat. Soph. 246 a) which a later age fought con-
cerning man and existence. Sophocles witnessed with deep anxiety the stormy
developments of his age. In political life these developments displayed them-
selves in the beginnings of Athenian imperialism, in the spiritual world in the
iconoclastic ideas of the sophists. That very period in which Sophocles wrote
the Antigone seemed ready to break all bounds. Then it was that he penned that
ode which we find as the first stasimon in the play, which has echoed as no other
has over the centuries down to our own day. Man is a great and powerful, but
also strange and uncanny creature (both senses are borne by deuds): he can
bend nature to his will in all fields, and treads every path with the utmost
boldness. But still the one decisive question remains: Does he know of the abso-
lute to which the gods have made him subject, or does he despise the eternal
order and bring himself and his society to destruction?
In the first draft of his Empedocles Hélderlin has a beautiful passage in which
Rhea speaks of the questions that Athenian maidens are asking: which of them
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did Sophocles have in his mind when he created Antigone, the brave yet tender
heroine. In recent interpretations the figure is often grotesquely travestied:"
Hélderlin here grasped it in all that complete humanity with which the poet
endued it. This is the whole person who says (523): “My destiny was not
mutual hate, but mutual love’. No effort has been spared by scholars to strip
these words, the basic expression of western humanism, of their full and true
meaning, and to exclude from them a notion of love which Sophocles has been
thought incapable of entertaining.’ It has also occasioned surprise that on her
way to her death Antigone weeps for the life which she is to lose. Yet the
primary reason why this drama has retained its validity over the centuries is
that Antigone is no superhuman figure, but one of us, with our hopes and desires,
but also with the great courage to follow God’s command against all contradic-
tions. But the loving Antigone, like all Sophocles’ great tragic figures, must
tread her road in total isolation. At the beginning of the play she asks her sister
Ismene to help her. It is in vain: with a contrast that recurs in Sophocles, the
great soul of Antigone, inaccessible to fear and coercion, is displayed against
the human type that is ready to compromise and to turn away from the moral
law under the stress of hardship.
The chorus of Theban elders also refuses to help, and its attitude has been
accordingly condemned. But if we read on and see how after the scene with
Tiresias this same chorus condemns Creon right down to the impressive closing
words, we shall easily see that in the first section the poet makes the chorus
hold back so that he can present Antigone in complete isolation. Fear of Creon
is a simple and satisfactory motivation.
In one passage we are out of sympathy with Antigone, as Goethe was.3 It
is in her last speech (905), where she justifies her action by saying that she could
make good the loss of husband or child, but, since her parents are dead, she
cannot replace her only brother. This is the expression of a basic trait of Greek
character: some intellectual reason has to be found for the feelings of the heart.
At the same time the passage is an interesting demonstration of the poet's
familiarity with Herodotus, who makes effective use of the same idea in the
story of Intaphernes’ wife (3. 119).
After the foregoing observations it can hardly be necessary to defend the
inner unity of the play against those who find that the third part of it is too much
an independent tragedy of Creon. This is not to deny, of course, that the com-
pactness of the composition is not — we might well say not yet — at the level of
perfection which Sophocles reached in the plays of his maturity.
The diptych form is visible in the Trachiniae also, but its themes will be seen
to show a kinship with those of the first Oedipus. Consequently we may place
it between these two plays. Appropriately enough, Reinhardt has pointed out
in it various features of archaic drama: the isolation of the individual character,

‘ E.g. the inhuman figure destroyed by demonic forces, as she is seen by G. NEBEL,
Weltangst und Gétterzorn. Stuttg. 1951, 192.
2 Cf. A. LESKY, Herm. 80, 1952, 95.
3 Conversation with Eckermann, 28th March 1827.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
whose reaction to his fate produces the tragic pathos, and its tendency to static
scenes instead of the later dynamic handling. Yet we can hardly follow him in
dating the piece before the Antigone. Despite all the caution to be exercised in
comparing different scenes, it is hard to think of the report of Deianira’s farewell
to her husband’s bed (920) and the comparable farewell of Alcestis as being
wholly independent one of another. Since the context and treatment suggest
that Euripides was first, and since his Alcestis appeared in 438, we have a
terminus post quem of as much reliability as such cases permit.!
Whereas the plays hitherto discussed begin with dialogue, the Trachiniae
begins with a long speech from Deianira by way of prologue, setting out what
the audience needs to know in advance. This reminds us of the practice which
became a mannerism with Euripides; and other Euripidean features have been
described in the play, particularly in the erotic motivation of Deianira’s be-
haviour. A Sophocles under the influence of his younger rival is not unthink-
able, and the prologue may certainly be so interpreted, even though Sophocles
does it in his own way. But in some other respects the influence of Euripides
has been absurdly overstated. There is very little similarity between the quiet
devotion of Deianira and the overwhelming outbursts of female passion which
we see on the stage of Euripides, and the basic theme on which the Trachiniae is
built is quite different and in the truest sense Sophoclean.
Deianira is in Trachis with her son Hyllus, awaiting the return of her hus-
band: the many adventures of his roving life have led him she knows not where.
At last he sends a messenger to say that he will soon come home; but with the
messenger comes the beautiful young princess Iole to live in the house. The way
in which Deianira learns why she is to have the stranger under her roof is highly
affecting. The herald Lichas spares her the truth out of pity for her: it is a later
messenger who demaolishes the pious falsehood. She knows now that Heracles’
heart has turned from her; he is sending his concubine into the house. She does
not flame into hatred and fury: Sophocles depicts this Deianira, no longer
young, and grieving for her husband’s lost affections, with the greatest tender-
ness. She remembers a love-charm that she has in the house. The dying centaur
Nessus gave her some of his blood, with which she could recapture at any time
the love of Heracles. For the proper understanding of the play it is imperative
that we do not drag in a guilt-theme in Deianira’s behaviour, contrary to the
poet’s intention. Love-philtres might be variously judged among the Greeks,
but Deianira, believing the assertion of the dying centaur, is endowed here
with all the innocence of a loving heart. To make her husband love her as she
loves him is her one purpose, and she accepts the means unquestioningly. So
she steeps the festal robe which she is sending to Heracles as a thankoftering for
his safe return in the blood of Nessus. This, however, had been permeated with
the poison of the Hydra from the arrow of Heracles which mortally wounded
Nessus, and Deianira is horrified to see how the wool which she used to smear
t There is, of course, always a subjective element in opinions ofthis kind. £. R. SCHWINGE,
Die Stellung der Trach. im Werke des Soph. Hypomnemata 1. Gottingen 1962, 63, thinks the
Trachiniae was written first,
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the garment crumbles and disintegrates in the light. The next moment Hyllus
arrives and relates how his father, as soon as he put on the fatal robe to make
sacrifice, was seized with unendurable agony, how he cried and screamed, and
was now being carried dying to Trachis. Like Eurydice in the Antigone, Deianira
leaves the stage without a word. We are told by a nurse of her miserable death,
her last words being of the bed for which she suffered and dared and to which
she now bids farewell.
After the report of her death — the scenes are separated, as always, by a choral
ode — Heracles is brought in. After his terrible sufferings he has fallen into un-
consciousness, but awakes to renewed anguish. His sufferings and outcries and
his last instructions fill up the rest of the play. Again we find the destinies of
two people who are fatally linked together worked out to the end in separate
sequences, and we recognize again the two-part coniposition of the earlier
plays.
After waking up Heracles breaks out into wild laments. This is the same
Heracles who at the sacrifice had dashed against the rocks the bringer of the
fatal robe. But when he hears of the poison of Nessus, he gives in to his fate.
Old prophecies are now, he sees, being fulfilled: his death is certain. He tells
his son to prepare his pyre on mount Oeta and to marry Iole; then the cortége
that takes the hero to his death leaves the stage.
A prominent place is taken by oracles in this piece, and thus again it shows a
kinship with the Oedipus. These prophecies, ambiguous and obscure, yet certain
to be accomplished in their true interpretation, bear witness before men to the
power of the gods. But they only inform: they leave wide scope to the thoughts
and plans of man. It is in this sphere that the action unfolds itself, as in the
Oedipus. Man is not a passive sacrifice to his destiny; he takes an active part.
But the gods have so arranged it that every step which he takes in the hope of
avoiding his fate brings him nearer to it. A woman who in the innocence of
her heart tries to renew the bonds of her husband’s love brings him down to
suffering and death. The hero who has freed so many countries from their
plagues dies helplessly in appalling anguish. No formulation like the Aeschylean
‘learning through suffering’ helps us to interpret this event. The power of the
gods, working from an unapproachable distance and with undiscoverable in-
tent, acts thus and not otherwise in this world. The great piety with which
Sophocles honours the divine force, even where it exerts itself most unpityingly,
is strikingly exemplified at the end of the play. In the last words of Hyllus
(1264) — the only such occasion in all the extant plays — man raises his hands in
reproach against heaven: ‘this is how the gods forget one whom they themselves
begot. They should be ashamed to let such things happen.’ But these frantic
words are repudiated in the closing verses of the chorus. Here, at the end of the
play, we hear a sentiment that characterizes all Sophocles’ work: ‘In all this has
nothing happened that was not Zeus’.
A passage from the Oedipus Tyrannus is parodied in the Acharnians of Aristo-
phanes (27). Consequently the play must have come out before 425. The de-
scription of the plague with which the action opens, but which is given no
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importance in the rest of the play, has been taken as reflecting the plague of
429, but this is uncertain. What is described is not a particular disease, but a
general withering away of men, beasts and crops, such as that with which
the Erinyes threatened the Athenians at the end of the Oresteia. If there is any
connection with that dreadful year, it is only very loose. For all that, a date
between 429 and 425 remains highly probable.
We begin our analysis with the form, to make it clear that here we meet a
strength and compactness of composition which is alien to the older plays. Not
merely is Oedipus the central figure in the plot: with the exception of the
messenger’s speeches and some very short introductory sections, there is no
single scene in which he is not present. We shall find the like in the Electra. In
both plays the importance which the central figure has in the plot gives him a
corresponding position in the structure as a whole. We may take the complete-
ness of this correspondence as one of the marks of what is truly classic.
The Oedipus has been called an analytic tragedy, since the decisive events
have all occurred before the play opens and the toils of fate have already been
drawn round Oedipus. His attempts to shake and tug at the net, only to entangle
himself more and more in its meshes and finally to encompass his own destruc-
tion, are depicted in this play with a mastery of concentration and compactness
that has not its like in dramatic writing. The devices with which the poet
achieves this effect are very simple. Laius, king of Thebes, being alarmed by an
oracle, had his newly born son exposed in the wastes of Cithaeron. The servant
who had this order to obey gave the child to a Corinthian shepherd, who took
it back to Corinth to his king Polybus. Both persons, the shepherd and the
servant, have other important functions in the course of the action. Such
economy of force as this makes possible the extremely close texture of the
dramatic structure. The servant who should have exposed the child is the only
one who later came back from the fatal encounter at the Phocian crossroad. It
was there that Oedipus, fleeing from the Delphic oracle that he should kill his
father and marry his mother, slew the aged Laius in an angry quarrel. The
Corinthian shepherd reappears in the piece as the messenger who at a significant
moment brings the news of Polybus’ death.
It is the critic’s right and duty to recognize such poetic devices as these. The
book which Tycho von Wilamowitz has written on Sophocles does so to the
full, and draws attention to several difficulties in the plays which present them-
selves when we think them over afterwards. Much can be learned from such
analysis, but it should never make its rules absolute and deny to works of
dramatic art the right to be a law to themselves.
With a deadly logic Oedipus’ road leads him into darkness and desolation.
At the beginning he answers the complaints of the city with kindness and
sympathy. At any moment Creon is expected, having gone to Delphi to ask
why the plague is thus devastating Thebes. He reports the god’s reply, demand-
ing expiation for the murder of Laius. With eager energy Oedipus seizes on the
Delphic pronouncement, which refers to himself. The blind seer Tiresias is
summoned, but will not speak. Finally, irritated beyond endurance by Oedipus’
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false suspicions, he denounces the king: he, the blind man, denounces the
reputedly sharp-sighted king with being himself the murderer and living in
fearful incest. So sudden and so contrary to all appearances is this revelation
that no one takes it seriously, least of all Oedipus. His quick brain follows
another and a devious path. He suspects a plot hatched by Creon to make him-
self king. He is soon ready to pronounce sentence of death, and Jocasta has to
come between them to prevent a fatal issue. She comforts her husband by de-
riding oracles and the craft of seers. Did not Apollo prophecy that Laius would
be killed by his own son? Yet the son died on Cithaeron, and Laius was slain
by robbers at a crossroad. In this play every attempt to find comfort is a step
towards catastrophe. Oedipus recalls in terror his sudden act at the Phocian
crossroad: but Jocasta spoke of robbers, or more than one man. That is now
his hope, and the servant who alone survived that mecting and is now living
in the country will be able to give confirmation. Meanwhile a messenger comes
from Corinth to announce the death of Polybus, whom Oedipus still reckons
as his father. Again Jocasta feels able to laugh at Apollo’s prophecies, and
Oedipus also thinks that he has escaped the destiny of being his father’s mur-
derer. But there is still the second part of the prophecy, that he should marry
his mother; and his mother is still alive in Corinth. Now comes another fatal
attempt to set Oedipus’s mind at rest. The messenger tells what he knows of
Oedipus’ birth. He was only stepson to Polybus and Merope; he was found
exposed on Cithaeron, where one of Laius’ servants gave him to the Corinthian.
The veil is now torn from Jocasta’s eyes. She tries to stop Oedipus enquiring
further, but her efforts to halt the wheel of fate are in vain. She goes back into
the palace in despair. Once again the hasty mind of Oedipus rushes to a false
conclusion: Jocasta is probably afraid that he may be of low birth, but he is
proud (what a height of tragic irony!) to call himself a child of fortune. This
expression gives the chorus its theme for an ode which once again strikes a
note of rejoicing before the catastrophe. How many are the gods who sweep
over the mountains! One of them may have fathered their beloved king. Then
comes the servant, the survivor of the Phocian encounter, the same who was
to have exposed the child. It is not easy to make him speak, but at last all the
awful truth is revealed to Oedipus. He rushes into the palace, finds Jocasta
hanged, and blinds himself with the pins of her brooches so as to close for ever
the fountain of sight. He staggers back onto the stage, takes a moving farewell
of his daughters and prepares to go into poverty and exile. ’
To understand this great work we must first clarify a question which is
hardly a question nowadays. Is Oedipus atoning for guilt? Aristotle (Poet. 13.
1453 a 10) traces his overthrow to a mistake (djapria zis). Since immediately
before this he expressly excludes moral obliquity (caxéa kal poyOnpia), it is
clear that this mistake was not one involving wickedness. This condemns all the
unworthy attempts that have been made to turn this drama into one of sin and
atonement and to reduce the unparallelled intensity of its tragic feeling to a
mere story with a moral. The action at the cross-road, where Oedipus in
sudden fury killed an old man who was unknown to him, could not be reckoned
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a terrible crime, certainly not in Greek eyes. Oedipus’ quick brain also, which
so often outruns itself, is not in its nature blameworthy: its significance consists
only in its contrast with the frightful power of the gods which goes its way
inexorably for all the wit and will of men. The gods are so very much the more
powerful, they shatter human fortune with such deadly certainty, that some
scholars have seen nothing else in the play, and have called it a drama of destiny.
Many have gone further and have said the same of Greek drama as a whole.
There is no point in discussing such mistaken notions here: even of the Oedipus
they express only half the truth. The king of Thebes is not a fainéant, who
awaits his fate passively; he goes boldly to meet it and grapples it with a burning
passion for the truth and a readiness to suffer that make him one of the greatest
figures of the tragic stage. The old servant hesitates before the final appalling
disclosure: ‘God help me, but I am about to tell you dreadful tidings’. Oedipus
answers: ‘And I about to hear them: but hear them I must’. The verse declares
both his fate and the greatness of his soul. Tycho von Wilamowitz and others
have disputed Sophocles’ ability to draw ‘complete characters’. Now it is true
that the way in which the dramatist puts his figures before us is different from
the individual character-drawing of modern drama. (We cannot consider the
question whether the dominance of the psychological element in this kind of
art is an unmixed advantage.) Nor can we deny that there are particular passages
in which the management of the scenes took precedence in the minds of ancient
dramatists over consistency in the presentation of individual character. But it is
far more important to remember that Sophocles drew his characters from the
pre-existing realm of myth, characters not in the modern psychological sense,
but great personal figures whose traits are attached to one central feature. Free
of all purely accidental and individual elements, they stand before us in their
great essential qualities, an imperishable heritage. Oedipus is one of these.
In this drama also the noble soul with its unqualified determination is set off
by the type that is ready always to weaken and compromise; to ‘take life as it
comes’ is Jocasta’s great maxim (979): the strongest possible contrast to the
path that Oedipus treads.
In the Oedipus also the gods play a very large part. But what kind of gods
are they who bring men to the depths of ruin without knowing why it all
happens? Are we to understand the gods as cruel beings to whom man is a
plaything? This is the view embodied in Hofmannsthal’s treatment of Oedipus
and the Sphinx, but it has nothing to do with Sophocles. It will be noticed that
in this play, which depicts the extremity of suffering without offering any inter-
pretation of human fate such as Aeschylus gives, we find a choral ode (864)
which sings of the eternal divine laws that originate in the highest heaven. At
the end of this play also we might say, ‘Here is nothing that was not Zeus’.
The divine governance, inaccessible to mortal thought, fulfils itself in an appal-
ling manner, but remains always valid and deserving of reverence. When
Sophocles wrote this drama, the sophists were already in full cry after everything
that tradition held sacred. He expressed his rejection of the new iconoclasm as
clearly here as in the first stasimon of the Antigone.
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The Oedipus does not merely express the tragic with greater purity than any
other play in European literature; it enables us to recognize in a special way
that phenomenon of tragic pleasure which Hélderlin embodied in his famous
epigram to Sophocles:
Manche versuchen umsonst, das Freudigste freudig zu sagen,
Hier spricht endlich es mir, hier in der Trauer sich aus.
The undeniable fact that we go home from a performance of the Oedipus
with a feeling of elevation, even of pleasure, 1s very hard to explain. But part
of the explanation is that in all the grief and horror the poet never for a moment
leaves out of sight a great cosmic order, which remains eternally valid through
all changes and all individual suffering.
We can certainly reckon the Electra as one of the late plays, without venturing
to assign a more definite date. The title is well justified, since the character of
Electra, who in the Choephori of Aeschylus takes no part after the recognition-
scene and the kommos, is dominant here from the parodos of the chorus to the
very end. Unlike the Choephori, this is not a drama of Orestes, and consistently
with this the ethical problem of matricide remains firmly in the background.!
It is his treatment of Clytemnestra that enables Sophocles to avoid the problems
involved and merely to allude to the killing once (1425). He makes her wholly
evil, without that daemonic force with which Aeschylus endows her. In Sopho-
cles she stands outside the fatal bond of the family curse: she is a depraved
wretch whose removal we feel to be justified. We are not called upon to con-
sider the son’s feelings in taking her life. For this reason Clytemnestra is killed
before Aegisthus, and it is on his killing that Sophocles has laid the principal
stress in the closing scene.
In old tradition Electra saved Orestes as a boy and stood by his side when
he returned home a young man. From these two facts Sophocles created the
character which remains one of his masterpieces. In the prologue-scene, which
is by way of a prelude to the drama of Electra, Orestes comes with his aged
tutor before the palace of the Atridae in Mycenae and prepares the device
which is to pave the way to his revenge. His speech is significantly interspersed
with cries of lamentation from Electra within. Orestes goes to his father’s grave:
Electra herself now enters and pours out her sorrows first in a monody, then in
alternation with the chorus of Mycenaean women. Her father shamefully
murdered, her brother far away, she herself is treated like the vilest maid-servant.
But what she finds hardest to bear is the wickedness of which she is conscious
in the rulers of the house. She must cease to be Electra if she is to reconcile herself
to it, as her sister Chrysothemis has done. Chrysothemis here plays the Ismene
to her Antigone. Clytemnestra has had a warning dream, and has sent her com-
pliant daughter to the grave of Agamemnon, but Electra has persuaded her
sister to pray, as she makes the libation, not for her mother but for Orestes
and the destiny of their house.
: This has been denied by many writers. A. WASSERSTEIN, Grom. 32, 1960, 178, is cer-
tainly right in opposing the view that Sophocles does not condemn the matricide. The real
point is that it was no part of his purpose to make it a central issue of the play.
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Clytemnestra’s threatening dream can be traced back through the Choephori

to the choral lyric Oresteia of Stesichorus, but its detailed execution is different
here. The idea of the tree that grows from Agamemnon’s sceptre and over-
shadows all the land is a further token of the poet’s familiarity with Herodotus:
it comes from the dream of Astyages before the birth of Cyrus (1. 108).
The middle section of the drama is composed of two scenes which embrace
Electra’s confident hope and her deepest despair. In a lengthy agon she tears the
mask of hypocrisy from her mother’s face, and despite her own sufferings
asserts the place of righteousness in the world. The thoughts of both women
are centred on Orestes. On his homecoming Electra builds all her hope: Clytem-
nestra ends the scene with a veiled prayer to Apollo for protection from his
vengeance. The old tutor then enters and tells of Orestes’ death in a chariot-
race at Delphi. There is such an immediacy in this report, in which the poet’s
art shows itself equal to the epic mastery of the messengers’ speeches in Euripides,
that we seem to change places with the women and to feel what they feel.
Clytemnestra sighs deeply with relief: Electra, her last hope gone, is plunged
into seemingly irremediable sorrow.
The kommos, re-echoing the report of Orestes’ death, is followed by a
scene which corresponds to the first between the two sisters and forms a frame
round the central pair of scenes. Chrysothemis comes back full of excitement
from her father’s grave: she has seen there flowers and a lock of hair, with traces
of a libation. It can only be that Orestes has returned home, and has offered
libation and prayer on his father’s grave. Electra is now placed between illusion
and reality, and the tragedy of her situation is that at first she chooses wrongly.
What Chrysothemis tells her, what is in fact true, would mean the fulfilment
of all her prayers. But she is caught up in self-delusion, and cannot recognize
the truth; on the basis of her own mistaken belief she overbears and persuades
her sister into error. Her reaction to the situation as she sees it is to take action
herself. With her own hand she will be revenged; Chrysothemis shall help her.
Hence she demands from her sister a support, which her timid and temporizing
character will not let her give. If the two were sharply contrasted in the first
dialogue, the difference between them comes out no less sharply here. Electra is
as much alone as Antigone going to her death. Orestes now enters with an urn
which he says contains the ashes of Orestes. He does not recognize his sister.
She believes the story and pathetically speaks to all that now remains of her
brother. Now Orestes realizes who it is that is thus lamenting, and discloses
himself. We might perhaps comment on the lateness of this recognition. Elec-
tra’s rejoicing knows no bounds, corresponding to her utter dejection in her
first scene. The masterly construction of the play then permits a final broad
correspondence between the opening and the closing scene. In the former the
young man returns from abroad to the house of his ancestors to pass judgment:
in the latter we have the fulfilment of his vengeance which restores him to his
rights.
The Electra shows the style of Sophocles’ old age, a style which has been best
characterized by Karl Reinhardt. Instead of the isolation of the individual
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personages and the “static expression of emotion’ which mark the older plays,
we now find a new relevance of the actors one to another. At the same time
the management of the scenes is more dominated by the spiritual factor and is
more diversified, while the dialogue has a new animation that comes from a
heightened tension and adroit transitions.
These phenomena may be interpreted as symptoms of a very important
development. One could most briefly formulate it by saying that in such plays
as the Electra or Philoctetes the human being comes into the middle of the action
in a new way. This does not imply a secularizing of the old ritual tragedy, such
as we see in Euripides in those plays where he brings gods onto the stage. We
have not the slightest reason to suppose that there had been any change in the
profoundly religious world-view of Sophocles. It is rather that there is a change
of emphasis bringing certain consequences in its train. Men are still ruled by the
same gods, but they have withdrawn from the foreground of the action. In
plays like the Ajax, Antigone or Oedipus man is in continuous converse with the
gods: how far this is true of the Oedipus Tyrannus we shall see in the last of the
plays, which contains the marvellous echo of their conversation. In all these
plays the voice of the gods is heard through oracles or seers, and plays a forceful
part in the action. In contrast Apollo’s injunction to Orestes that he must revenge
himself is left as a very marginal theme, and it is very much subordinated to the
single figure of Electra with her sorrows and her hopes and her fearless resist-
ance. The new light in which man is placed in the later dramas of Sophocles
also allows us to see a new realm of the soul. As Electra addresses the urn
which she imagines to contain the ashes of her brother, she finds language of
the deepest and most intimate tenderness, such as we scarcely find elsewhere in
Attic drama. This same Electra flares up into wild hatred against her mother,
and when Orestes is killing them within, she utters the almost unendurable
words: “Strike her again, if you are capable’. Electra has the great and
unflinching determination of Antigone, but we need only to compare the
two characters to see how much richer Sophocles’ portrayal of personality has
become.
In the Electra the theme is no longer, as in the Trachiniae or the Oedipus, the
irresoluble conflict between human plans and divine ordinance: the play is not
a tragedy in the same sense as the older dramas. The poet is not concerned with
demonstrating a great world-order, unfathomable to the human mind, which
is attested in the destruction of the individual man. We see a human soul meeting
grief with courage and rejoicing at deliverance. We are recurring to what we
said before if we venture to say that the Electra, while it depicts tragic situations
of great depth and intensity, is not as a whole the expression of a tragic world-
view as the Oedipus Tyrannus is.
Much of what we have said applies equally well to the Philoctetes, which
Sophocles presented in 409. It was a part of epic tradition, incorporated in the
Cypria and the Little Iliad, that the Greeks on their way to Troy marooned
Philoctetes on the island of Lemnos: the suppurating and evil-smelling wound
resulting from a snake-bite made his presence intolerable to the others. But
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towards the end of the siege they had to go and fetch him, since a prophecy
had warned them that Troy could not be taken unless he helped in the fighting
with his miraculous bow — a weapon which had once belonged to Heracles. Ac-
cording to a scholium on Pind. Pyth. 1.100, Bacchylides composed a dithyramb
dealing with the fate of Philoctetes, and Pindar alludes to it in the First Pythian.
All three great Attic tragedians used this theme, and the 52nd oration of Dio
of Prusa contains a comparison of the plays, incomplete, however, and very
rhetorical in its treatment. We cannot now tell by what means Odysseus in the
Philoctetes of Aeschylus persuaded the hero to help those who had once abandoned
him. The remains ofahypothesis to this drama (Pap. Ox. 20, 1952, nr. 2256 fr. 5)
contain the names Neoptolemus, Philoctetes, Odysseus. It is an easy assumption
that these are the personages of Aeschylus’ play, but St. G. Kossyphopoulou
(Hellenica 14, 1955/6, 449) has shown that the remaining letters can be so supple-
mented as to make the hypothesis refer to the play of Sophocles. The Philoctetes
of Euripides was produced together with the Medea in 431. The myth here was
made to carry a problem in Greek patriotism. Ambassadors of Greeks and
Trojans pay court to the bearer of the miraculous bow; he hesitates between
revenge and Hellenic sentiment, but finally the latter wins the day.
Sophocles’ two predecessors in this field had a chorus of Lemnians. He intro-
duced an innovation by making Lemnos an uninhabited island - a very im-
portant change. Not only is his Philoctetes shut out from the community of
the Greeks, he is in great suffering, a sick man in awful isolation, living a miser-
able life on what he can shoot with the bow. Inevitably bitterness has eaten
deeply into this great and proud heart, yet he declares his feelings with a touch-
ing confidence to the young Neoptolemus and sees in him such another as him-
self when he promises that the castaway shall be taken home. The contriver of
the intrigue is Odysseus, and one cannot say that his character has traits of
Sophoclean humanity. In this drama, with its unique association in an involved
plot of three men widely differing in age and character, if we see things one-
sidedly through the eyes of Neoptolemus, Odysseus cannot but appear as a
deceiver and betrayer. Yet it is impossible to see him as purely evil and to make
an Iago of him. What he does is under orders from the Greek council of war,
and he is responsible for the success of a plan on which the whole outcome of
the war depends.
It has been justly remarked that we are never made quite clear about Odys-
seus’ instructions. Is Philoctetes with the bow, or is the bow by itself to be
brought to Troy? In several passages this is left obscure, while in others it is
stressed that there are two alternatives.! This fact has caused some critics to
essay an interpretation? which would make the play akin to the Oedipus Tyrannus.
On this view the oracle which meant that Philoctetes was to be persuaded to
come to Troy was misunderstood by Odysseus, who sought treacherously to
gain possession of the bow alone: in consequence all his plans come to grief. If
this was in fact the poet’s intention, we can only wonder at the care he took
to conceal it. It is advisable not to give exaggerated importance to these
I Vv. 68. 77. IOI. 112. 612. 839. 1055. 2 BOWRA (v. inf.), 261.
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inconsistencies, many of which are detected only by the critic in the closet. It
is certainly permissible to examine the devices by which the poet secures a
lively and animated development of the story, but the only thing that is impor-
tant is the gain in dramatic power and psychological appeal that results from
them.
If Odysseus in the course of the intrigue appears in sharp contrast to Neop-
tolemus, this is a repetition of the contrast in the Iliad between him and Neop-
tolemus’ father Achilles. Replying to the embassy (9. 312) he says that he hates
like the gates of hell the man who says one thing and has another in his heart.
His son is no less a hater of lies, and when he has to make himself the instrument
of them, his whole soul is troubled to a perilous degree.
Odysseus has persuaded him — with great difficulty — to win over Philoctetes
by a false story. From the very beginning Neoptolemus is struck by the appal-
ling sufferings of the man whom he has to betray. But he yields to the authority
of his older and more experienced companion. Now he has to hear the poor
wretch’s cries of joy at the thought of seeing human beings and hearing the
Greek tongue once again, since he believes the promises of Neoptolemus and
the chorus of Greek sailors that they will take him home to Greece. They have
made ready to go, when Philoctetes has a frightful access of his infirmity.
Neoptolemus cannot but see the extremity of his suffering: his pathetic attempts
to dissemble his anguish, his wild cries and final sinking into a coma. Before
this, the sick man had given into his hand the ultimate token of his trust — the
bow which had preserved his life, such as it was, on the desert island. Drama
at that day had no means of showing what goes on in a man’s soul stage by
stage, but the beginnings of such a technique are visible here. Neoptolemus,
who at first was so ready of tongue in playing his part, but found himself more
and more at a loss for words before Philoctetes’ suffering, now says (806): ‘For
a long time I have been pitying your plight’. This pity makes him decide to
expiate his treachery, and he holds to this decision through all the many diffi-
culties arising from the opposition of Odysseus and the obstinacy of Philoctetes.
Recognition of his guilt is the first step, giving back the bow (and thus driving
Odysseus to the most frenzied threats) the second, and when Philoctetes resists
all persuasion to come willingly to Troy, he forms the ultimate resolution: their
promise to take the sick man back to Greece, previously a piece of heartless
trickery, must now be carried out in truth. The glory to be gained before Troy
no longer matters; if the Greeks threaten revenge, let them threaten. Supported
by Neoptolemus, Philoctetes hobbles towards the ship.
Properly this should be the end of the play, but it cannot end in this way.
While the tragic poet has much freedom in treating the traditional stories, and
can please himself especially in the psychological motivation of events, he cannot
alter firmly accepted cardinal points in a myth. Philoctetes did go to Troy and
his bow decisively contributed to victory. Consequently, on their way to tue
ship, Neoptolemus and Philoctetes are stopped by an epiphany of Heracles. The
Olympian hero speaks to Philoctetes and ends his obstinate resistance, thus
putting the myth back on the rails very much in the manner of a Euripidean
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deus ex machina. But his connection with the plot is much closer.! That the bow
of Heracles has been in Philoctetes’ hands since the former died on Oeta is a
superficial connection; what is more important is that he changes his friend’s
mind not by peremptory exercise of his divinity, but by referring to his own
destiny, which led through suffering to apotheosis. Heracles’ injunction to
reverence the gods is in the voice of Sophocles himself, who kept the same pious
convictions all through his life.
The self-contained perfection of Sophoclean art made impossible such topical
allusions as Euripides sometimes makes. But we have seen — in the Antigone
above all — that he reacted strongly to the sophistic movement, which during
his maturity was busy undermining all traditional values. Men were at variance
then, especially over education. Some still clung to the old aristocratic doctrine
that inherited qualities (¢vovs) were decisive for a man’s character and actions;
others shared the view expressed by the sophist Antiphon (VS 87 60): ‘The
greatest thing in human life to my mind is education.’ We cannot go into this
fascinating debate? with which Euripides characteristically concerned himself.
But the Philoctetes is Sophocles’ avowal of that old Hellenic conviction which
is strikingly evident in Pindar: ‘It is by inborn greatness of soul that a man is
worthy. He who has only what he has learnt is a man in darkness.’ (Nem. 3. 40).
Another quotation from Pindar might sum up the Philoctetes: ‘ Neither the red-
glimmering fox nor the roaring lion can ever change its nature.’ (Ol. 11, 19).
Thus Neoptolemus finds himselfin a deeply tragic situation, where in serving
Odysseus he does violence to his own nature. He has to withdraw from a task
which he can only carry through at the cost of destroying his own native
qualities. He voices this view himself (902): ‘Everything becomes hateful when
a man abandons his own nature (dvars) and acts at variance with it’. And after
he has given the bow back to Philoctetes, the latter says (1310): ‘My son, you
have let us see those qualities which were born in you’. As with every great
work of art, there are various possible approaches to the Philoctetes: one of them
is to consider it as a drama of the inextinguishable natural worth of man.
There is another and more important characteristic of Sophocles that appears
in this play. When Philoctetes finds that he has been cruelly tricked by Neop-
tolemus, he calls aloud in his misery upon the bays, the cliffs, the wild creatures
that shared his life on the island. And when he leaves the island after all is well,
he bids a moving farewell to the scene of his sufferings, with its whispering sea,
its echo from the mountains and its springs which gave him water. We are
reminded of Ajax’s last farewell, and we notice particularly here how the poet
makes his characters strive to bridge that isolation to which destiny or their
own greatness has condemned them.
In extreme old age Sophocles wrote his second Oedipus. His grandson, also
called Sophocles, produced it after the poet’s death in 4o1. There can be few

t The special features of this Sophoclean deus ex machina are well brought out by A.
sprra, Untersuchungen zum deus ex machina bei Soph. und Eurip. Diss. Frankf. Kallmiinz 1960.
2 Ww. HAEDICKE, Die Gedanken der Griechen iiber Familienherkunft und Vererbung. Diss. Halle
1936. A. LESKY, ‘Erbe und Erziehung im griech. Denken des 5. Jh.s’. N. Jahrb. 1939, 361.
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comparable instances of a poet’s writing a sequel after twenty years to his

greatest work, so that the two formed together a unity of a new and special
kind. In the Oedipus Tyrannus we see the tragically stricken man, cast down by
the gods into the deepest misery that can be conceived. Now, in the Oedipus
Coloneus, we have a sublime paradox: the same man whom the gods have so
terribly struck down is at the same time one of their elect. Because they wanted
to make an example of him, his fall was also his exaltation. Thus at the end ofhis
painful pilgrimage he is called by them to assume the status of a hero, to rule
from the grave as the ‘blesser and protector of a land that deserved its own ser-
vice of sacrifice’.! The chorus expressly says in an important passage (1565)
that the sufferer is being exalted; and they speak of the justice of God. But we
must guard against hastily importing Christian elements into the drama and
thinking of Oedipus as receiving absolution as the reward for patient endurance
of suffering. In fact every attempt at a rational formulation of the relation be-
tween man and god as it is shown in the two Oedipus-plays is doomed to failure.
When we are told at the end of the Oedipus Coloneus that the gods call Oedipus
to themselves as one who belongs to them, one for whom they have long been
waiting, we detect a tone of intimacy with these awful beings.” In his Empe-
dokles Hélderlin makes Panthea speak of the relations between gods and men in
terms of a lovers’ quarrel. Perhaps this expression takes us somewhere near
what Sophocles is conveying in the image of these two great plays.
When Sophocles wrote this story of the old man’s death, he himself stood
before the gloomy portals which his Oedipus was entering, and he himself was
destined to be a hero to his people after his death. The poet’s nearness to death,
which is echoed in many passages, particularly in the ode on the sorrows of
old age and on death the comforter, gives the work an affecting undertone of
gentle melancholy.
It was an Athenian local legend that Oedipus at last found peace in the grove
of the Eumenides at Colonus Hippius, the hill of Poseidon near Athens. Euri-
pides alludes to it in some verses of the Phoenissae (1703), although their authen-
ticity has been suspected.
At the opening of the piece Oedipus, a blind beggar on his miserable journey,
enters the grove of the dread, unearthly goddesses. When a man dwelling
near by tries to turn him out, he realizes where he is, and recalls the Delphic
prophecy which promised him peace here after all his sorrows. The chorus of
old men of Attica hears with wonder who the stranger is that has come to
their land. They speedily send for Theseus to decide what is to be done. Mean-
while Oedipus obeys the suggestion of the chorus that he should placate the
goddesses into whose sanctuary he has forced his way. He cannot see to fetch a
libation, and so he sends Ismene, who has joined her father and sister to share
their grief and privation. It is here that we find the verses (498) on the possibility
of vicarious sacrifice, in which the amiable piety of the poet might again seem
' GOETHE, Nachlese zu Aristoteles’ Poetik. Jubilee edition vol. 38, p. 93.
2 Cf. A. LESKY, Rhein. Mus. 103, 1960, 376, where Reinhardt’s detailed treatment of the
passage 1s cited.
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to foreshadow Christian doctrine: ‘Sufficient, I think, for thousands is a single

soul for such atonement, if it comes with a pure heart’.
Theseus, the king of the country, now enters. He is the pet figure of Attic
mythology: to him national pride had ascribed a series of adventures that put
him by the side of Heracles. Attic tragedy had invested him in a new humanity,
and he was enlarged into an ideal of Athenian manhood. We shall find this
exemplified in the Suppliants and Heracles of Euripides. The Theseus of those
plays is a noble and lofty figure, but also a little didactic, like Euripides himself.
Sophocles’ Theseus is a warmer and richer personality. He radiates that magical
quality of Atticism which charms us on the vases of the period, in the figures of
the Parthenon frieze, in those of funeral carvings, which makes the characters
of Menander so attractive, even though they have lost the nobility of the classical
period. The entry of Theseus is preceded by an unusual sung scene between
Oedipus and the chorus — a kommos. With unashamed curiosity the chorus asks
Oedipus about his dark secrets and drags from him the unhappy story of some
part of his past. This section, like two others (266. 960 ff.) serves the purpose of
underlining Oedipus’ subjective innocence and his knowledge of it; but this is
not its only purpose. It also acts as an effective foil to the meeting of Theseus
with the blind beggar. He asks no questions about his past sufferings: but
alluding to his own past adversities and to the transitoriness of all that is human
he sympathizes with Oedipus’ present plight and shows himself ready to help
and protect. He proves his readiness in the tribulations which still await Oedipus,
and thus at the end of the piece he is the only one who may accompany him as
he goes to meet his death. A narrative speech without its peer anywhere in
literature allows us to be witnesses — at a proper distance —of the mystery of
that death, which signifies a passing over to a higher plane of existence. Theseus
with the dead man’s daughters, giving them kindness and consolation and
assuring them of his help — that is the group that is before us at the end of the
drama.
The opening and the closing sections of the play are taken up with Oedipus
on his way to burial as a hero. In between lies a group of scenes of a different
nature and of powerful animation. Ismene on her arrival relates that Oedipus’
sons have fallen out, that a struggle for mastery in Thebes is impending and
that according to an oracle the victor will be he who secures the person of the
old man. Truly enough they arrive: first Creon, who shares with Eteocles the
defence of Thebes. This Creon has none of the weight and dignity of the Creon
in the Tyrannus: to the brutal autocracy of the king in the Antigone is now added
anew feature — calculating hypocrisy. When this avails him nothing and Oedipus
resists all persuasion, he seizes the daughters as hostages. But the voice and arm
of Theseus are there to support the right, and they are speedily restored to their
father. The violent behaviour of Creon is in effective contrast to the scene with
Polynices. The son who is leading a foreign army against his city and already
bears the mark of Cain upon his brow, 1s profoundly moved at the sight of the
father whom he himself has driven into exile. Conscious of his guilt, he beseeches
the old man to help him and assure his restoration and victory. Oedipus is long
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silent: then he bursts out in the sudden fury which had long ago flamed forth
at the Phocian crossroad. With a curse he sends his son to his ruin: himself a
fratricide, he shall die by his brother’s hand. Polynices leaves the stage brokenly:
burial and obsequies - the Athenians must here have remembered the Antigone —
are all that he asks of his sisters. After this scene a thunderbolt calls Oedipus to
his last journey.
The question of unity of composition comes up here once again. We do not
have to speak of ‘diptych-form’: rather the question is how the middle sections
which we have just analysed — the scenes with Creon and Polynices — fit in with
the opening and closing scenes which show Oedipus finding peace at last. An
older generation of scholars, steeped in Homeric analysis, thought it could find
layers in the composition. Wilamowitz, writing in his son Tycho’s book on
Sophocles, explains the middle section as a later addition with the intention of
adding lively dramatic scenes. The theory has deservedly failed to gain accept-
ance. One would rather believe that the poet from the outset expanded the
rather undramatic story of Oedipus’ death with scenes intended to secure
greater animation for the whole. Such a theory of course admits to a large
extent the unity of the play. Nowadays, however, we think we can do better
justice to the poet’s art. Externally considered, the unity of the piece is largely
secured by the fact that Oedipus dominates the stage from the opening scene
onwards, even in the narrative of his death and in the lamentation of his
daughters. In its inner structure we see the play thus: the old man, tried by
suffering, before he finds peace must elude all those forces which yet throng
upon him to perplex his existence. He faces them not as a victim, but armed
already with the power to curse and to bless which he will exercise from his
hero’s grave. There is another way in which the middle section is in effective
contrast with the flanking sections: in the two daughters of the exile the poet
enshrines unforgettable pictures of filial love, while the scenes with Creon and
Polynices are filled with hatred and fury. The curse upon the sons and the de-
parture of the daughters with a last word of love bring out the contrast especially
strongly through the nearness of the two themes.
All these considerations must be borne in mind when assessing this play, the
last of Sophocles’ extant dramas. Nevertheless, it cannot be contended that the
connection of the various parts achieves the same closeness that we find in the
plays of his maturity; nor does it have the same continuity and ease in the un-
folding of the action. One result of the generally lyrical tone that pervades this
work of his-old age is that it contains some of his most wonderful choral pas-
sages. The ode in praise of his native Colonos was the poet’s swansong to the
beauty and greatness of Athens. It was a merciful gift of the gods that one who
had so piously sung of their greatness did not live to see the overthrow of his
city.
Apart from the seven extant, we know that Sophocles wrote a hundred and
twenty-three plays.! That is to say, we have some information about all those
which were known to the Alexandrians. On the other hand, there are not many
* According to BLUMENTHAL’S list, RE 3 A 1927, 1051, which is not wholly certain.
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fragments to help us on the lost plays, and the papyri also have given us compara-
tively little - with one exception, for which we cannot be too grateful. In 1912,
in the ninth volume of Oxyrhynchus Papyri, Hunt and Wilamowitz published
considerable pieces of a Sophoclean satyr-play, the Ichneutae. Its date is uncertain,
but it may be plausibly assigned to Sophocles’ early period. Small supplements
followed in Ox. Pap. 17, 1927 (nr. 1153 P.).
Until this discovery the Cyclops of Euripides was our only example of the
Attic satyr-play. Now that we can compare Sophocles and more recently
Aeschylus, we can enjoy the very much greater liveliness, when compared with
Euripides, which these two poets display in satyric drama. These satyrs are
nature-spirits, a hypostasis of lechery and fertility. In the Dictyulci and the
Ichneutae alike their vigorous and lusty life, quite unhindered by any notion of
morality, yet oddly attractive and likeable, is conveyed with a wonderful
immediacy. In Sophocles as in Aeschylus this carefree and delightful kind of
poetry rubs shoulders with tragedies in which the sufferings of our human
condition are given immortal expression.
Among the Homeric hymns we find that hymn to Hermes which describes
the god’s thievish childhood with Rabelaisian humour. The theft of Apollo’s
cattle and the invention of the lyre provide Sophocles with the theme of his
drama, but probably the sequel to these actions was given a different twist from
that in the hymn. Apollo has summoned a hue and cry after the stolen cattle,
and the satyrs, led by their father Silenus, are acting as bloodhounds on the
wooded slopes of Cyllene in hope of the reward. The situation has become
critical, when from the cave in which Maia nursed her remarkable child an
uncanny and unknown sound is heard — the music of the first lyre on earth.
We now have a delightful dialogue between the satyrs — torn between cowardice
and curiosity — and the nymph Cyllene who is helping to guard the infant
Hermes. The end, which has not survived, must have dealt with the reconcilia-
tion of the brothers and the rewarding of the satyrs with money and freedom.
It seems to have been a standard element in satyr-drama that the satyrs were in
some kind of servitude. Who their master is in this play cannot be determined
from the remains. Siegmann thought it was Pan: Page in his edition (Lit. Pap.)
prefers Dionysus, in which case we have to suppose a lacuna before v. 171.
Sixty-eight much mutilated verses from a cartonnage coflin (Tebt. Pap. 3/1,
1933, nr. 692) probably belong to another satyr-play, the Inachus. R. Pfeiffer"
has reconstructed a scene in which the cowardly satyrs are confronted with
Hermes, who has come protected by the helmet of Hades to slay Argus.
We now have also the fragment Ox. Pap. 23, 1956, 2369, in which we can
recognize a speech by Inachus, describing Io’s transformation by a remarkable
visitor, who can hardly be other than Zeus.

1 Sitzb. Ak. Miinch. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1938/2, 23. The new papyrus: ibid. 1958/6.J. T. KAKRIDIS
in Wiss. Jahrb. d. Philos. Fak. Thessalonike 1960, 101. Both authors conclude very plausibly
from the fragments that it was a satyr-play. w. M. CALDER in his attempted reconstruction
(‘The Dramaturgy of Sophocles’ Inachus’. Greek and Byz. Studies. 1, 1958, 137) makes it
into a tragedy.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

At the same time as the Ichneutae the remains of a tragedy Eurypylus were
found. Eurypylus was the son of Astyoche, Priam’s sister. At Priam’s request
his mother sent him to Troy, where he fell by the hand of Neoptolemus. What
survives is part of a messenger’s speech telling of Priam’s lamentation.
Remains of tragic trimeters on a papyrus (nr. 1157 P.) have been assioned by
R. Pfeiffer! to the Scyrii. We may suppose that this play dealt with the carrying
off of Neoptolemus by Odysseus and the opposition of his mother Deidamia.
Recent discoveries and researches have shown that one was mistaken in re-
ferring Pap. Berol. 9908 to the Gathering of the Achaeans (Axarév avAdoyos). It
is more likely to come from the Telephus of Euripides.
We should be very glad to know something about Sophocles’ Phaedra, in
which he embodied the sort of erotic theme which Euripides brought onto the
stage. It is a likely guess that he wrote it as a counterblast to Euripides’ first
Hippolytus (the Calyptomenus). In a fragment (619 N.), probably from a speech
by Phaedra, love is described as a grief sent by the gods.
We should mention the Tereus for its great influence. It related the grim
story of Procne, who slew her son Itys to punish her husband Tereus for violating
her sister Philomela. We may well suppose,” though it cannot be proved, that
Euripides created his Medea under the influence of this tragedy.
In discussing the Ajax we quoted Sophocles’ own description of his three-
stage development. We have also several times spoken of differences in construc-
tion, use of dialogue and management of scenes between the older plays and
the Oedipus Tyrannus, Electra, and Philoctetes. A closely related question is
whether we can discern any development in the language of Sophocles, so far
as we know it. In fact the older pieces, the Ajax above all, show features which
tend to disappear later: a closer affinity to epic and lyric, many turns of phrase
that are Aeschylean or at least recall Aeschylus, occasional pleonasms, here and
there a trimeter made up of two or three heavy polysyllables (cf. Aj. 17). The
same applies to the frequency of compound adjectives in the spoken parts. The
development of his language is towards a simplicity which does not signalize
itself, as so often in Euripides, by a lowering of tragic tone and an approach to
the language of every day. To a large extent he gives up the heavy pomp of
Aeschylean style, he limits his indulgence in imagery, he uses language in a new
way, so that it dresses the thought like a well fitting garment, but maintains its
grip on us through frequent short clauses with much use of antithesis. But the
guiding spirit is different. The language of Sophocles, with its measured re-
straint which yet reveals to nearer inspection a rich wealth of movement and
vigorous life, is as much an expression ofthe classic art of Athens as the sculptures
of the Parthenon, in which the figures combine the perfection of art and the
reality of life in a unity which has never since been attained.
Se, TH, HOA,
2 W. BUCHWALD, Stud. z. Chronologie der att. Trag. 455 bis 431. Diss. Ko6nigsberg 1939
35, with discussion of the fragments.

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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
The plays of Sophocles have had much the same transmission as those of
Aeschylus. The decisive factor was the work of the Alexandrians, particularly
of Aristophanes of Byzantium. The explanations found in our scholia were
preserved by the industry of Didymus: we can sometimes detect his polemic
against older commentators. With Sophocles also the requirements of schools
in or about the second century of our era called forth a selection of seven plays.
(On the date the reader should compare what was said earlier on the transmis-
sion of Aeschylus.) One Salustius, to whom we owe hypotheses to the Antigone,
the Oedipus Coloneus and probably other plays as well, revised the editions of
these seven plays in the late fourth century. It has been supposed that they sur-
vived the dark ages until the Byzantine renaissance in a single manuscript; but
of recent years this view has been called in question. TuRyN, however, whose
knowledge of the transmission is unrivalled, has defended in his most re-
cent work the theory of a single-strand transmission. The evaluation of the
manuscripts has entered a new stage through various studies of which
the most important are: A. TURYN, ‘The Manuscripts of Sophocles’. Traditio 2.
New York 1944; ‘The Sophocles Recension of Manual Moschopulus’. Trans.
of the Am. Phil. Ass. 80, 1949, 94; Studies in the Manuscript Tradition of the
Tragedies of Sophocles. Illinois Studies 36/1-2. Urbana 1952 (on which see
P. MAAS, Gnom. 25, 1953, 441); V. DE MARCO, ‘Intorno al testo di Edipo a
Colono in un manoscritto Romano’. Rendiconti Accad. Napoli 26, 1951 (1952),
260. R. AUBRETON, Démeétrius Triclinius et les récensions médiévales de Sophocle.
Paris 1949.
The main result of these researches has been to define the part played by
learned Byzantines — particularly Planudes, Moschopulus, Thomas Magister
and Triclinius — in the formation of the corpus of variant readings that we now
have. It is not always easy to decide: as we shall see with Par. 2712, in many
instances opinions differ on what is genuine tradition and what is Byzantine
conjecture. The object of these studies is to unburden our critical apparatus of
all that can be considered secondary. and thus to determine more accurately
what the ancient tradition really is. For this purpose the most important MS. is
that same Mediceus which we saw to be the most valuable for Aeschylus. Its
text of Sophocles — written in the eleventh century and later bound up with the
texts of Aeschylus and Apollonius — is often referred to as Laurentianus 32. 9.
A close relative of this MS. is the Leyden palimpsest 60 A, but it does not go
very far (see J. IRIGOIN, Rev. Et. Gr. 64, 1951, 443). The Parisinus 2712 was
long considered a second pillar of the text, but its credit has been impaired by
TURYN’S thesis that its variants in the Ajax, Electra and Oedipus Rex are Byzantine
conjectures. Ideas here are now in flux. J. C. KAMERBEEK, ‘De Sophoclis
memoria’. Mnem. S. 4, 11, 1958, 25, has brought detailed evidence for his view
that Par. 2712 does in fact give genuine ancient variants in these three plays,
and that it is not fathered solely by MANUEL MOSCHOPULUS. We must also
mention P. E. EASTERLING, ‘The Manuscript A of Sophocles and its Relation to
the Moschopulean Recension’. Class. Quart. N.S. 10, 1960, $1. TURYN, following
de Marco, attaches particular importance to a ‘Roman family’ comprising the
299
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

following MSS.: Laur. Conv. Soppr. 152; Par. suppl. Gr. 109; Vat. 2291;
Moden. T. 9. 4. This view has not won the support of Pp. MAAS, Gnom. 25, 1953,
441, or of H. LLOYD-JONES, Gnom. 31, 1959, 478. A good many manuscripts
only contain the three plays selected by the Byzantines: Ajax, Electra, Oedipus
Rex.
Bibliography 1936-38: A. v. BLUMENTHAL, Bursians Jahresber. 277, 1942 (id.
RE 3 A 1927, 1040). Later work: my reports in AfdA from 1949 onwards, last
in 1961; H. J. METTE, Gynin. 63, 1956, 547; G. M. KIRKWOOD, Class. Weekly 50,
1956/57, 157. Recent editions: A. C. PEARSON, Oxf. 1924. P. MASQUERAY, Coll.
des Un. de Fr. 2nd ed. 1929; now A. DAIN-P. MAZON, 3 vols. ibid. 1955-60. An
edition with Spanish translation in the Coleccién hispdnica de autores griegos y
latinos by 1. ERRANDONEA, S.J., has begun with the first volume, containing the
two Oedipus plays, Barcelona 1959. Two old editions with commentary are
still valuable for the text: R. C. JEBB, Cambr. 1883-96 (repr. unaltered 1902-
1908, again 1962), text only Cambr. 1897; three more volumes containing the
fragments by A. C. PEARSON, Cambr. 1917. SCHNEIDEWIN-NAUCK in the revised
edition by £. BRUHN (O.T. 1910; El. 1912; Ant. 1913) and L. RADERMACHER
(O.C. 1909; Phil. 1911; Aj. 1913; Trach. 1914).
Annotated editions and special studies upon individual plays: Ajax: (ed.):
M. UNTERSTEINER, Milan 1934. V. DE FALCO, 3rd ed. Naples 1950. A. COLONNA,
2nd ed. Turin 1951. G. AMMENDOLA, Turin 1953. J. C. KAMERBEEK, Leyden
1953 (commentary only). (stud.): F. DIRLMEIER, ‘Der Aias des Soph.’ N. Jahrb.
1938, 297. R. CAMERER, Zu Soph. Aias’. Gymn. 60, 1953, 289. J. M. LINFORTH,
Three Scenes in Sophocles’ ‘ Ajax’. Un. of Cal. Press. 1954. K. v. FRITZ, ‘Zur
Interpretation des Aias’. Rhein. Mus. 83, 1934, 113; now Antike und moderne
Tragédie. Berlin 1962, 241. — Ant.: CHR. DE VLEMINCK and R. VAN COMPER-
NOLLE, ‘Bibliographie analytique de l’Antigone de Soph.’, Phoibos 2, 1947/48,
85. (ed.): A. COLONNA, Turin 1941. J. C. KAMERBEEK, Leyden 1945. E. ANANIA,
Florence 1957. (stud.): R. FE. GOHEEN, The Imagery of Sophocles’ Antigone. Prince-
ton 1951. H. LLOYD-JONES, ‘Notes on Soph. Ant.’. Class. Quart. N.S. 7, 1957,
12.J.M. LINFORTH, Antigone and Creon’. Univ. of Cal. Publ. in Class. Phil. 15/5,
1961, 183. G. MULLER, ‘Ueberlegungen zum Chor der Ant.’. Herm. 89, 1961,
398. K. v. FRITZ, ‘Haimons Liebe zu Antigone’. Phil. 89, 1934, 19; now Antike
und moderne Tragddie. Berl. 1962, 227. Trachiniae: (ed.): J. C. KAMERBEEK,
Leyden 1946; ibid. 1959 without text. G. scHrassi, Florence 1953. (stud.):
H. D. F. KITTO, ‘Sophocles, Statistics and the Trachiniae’. Am. Journ. Phil. 60,
1939, 178. G. CARLSSON, ‘Le Personnage de Déianire chez Sénéque et chez
Sophocle’: Eranos 45, 1947, 68.— Oedipus Tyrannus: F. DIRLMEIER, Der Mythos vom
Kénig Oedipus. Mainz 1948. (ed.): L. ROUSSEL, Paris 1940. D. PIERACCIONI,
Florence 1949. 0. REGENBOGEN, Heidelb. 1949 (text). (stud.): E. SCHLESINGER,
El Edipo Rey de Sof. La Plata 1950. w. SCHADEWALDT, ‘Der Kénig Oed. des
Soph. in neuer Deutung’. Schweiz. Monatsh. 36, 1956, 21. B. M. W. KNOX, ‘The
Date of the Oed. Tyr. of Soph.’. Am. Journ. Phil. 77, 1956, 133. Id., Oedipus at
Thebes. New Haven 1957. M. OSTWALD, ‘Aristotle on dyaptia and Sophocles’
Oedipus Tyr.’. Festschr. Kapp 1958, 93.-Electra: (ed.): G. KAIBEL, Leipz. 1896
300
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
(1911). N. CATONE, Florence 1959. (stud.): w. WUHRMANN, Strukturelle Unter-
suchungen zu den beiden El. und zum eurip. Orestes. Winterthur 1940. R. Pp. WIN-
NINGTON-INGRAM, *The Electra of Sophocles. Prolegomena to an Interpreta-
tion’. Proc. Cambr. Phil. Soc. 1954/55, 20, which concentrates on the matricide
and the Erinyes. K. v. FRITZ, ‘Die Orestessage bei den drei grossen griechischen
Tragikern’. Antike und moderne Tragédie. Berl. 1962, 113. Philoctetes: (Ce Paes
KAMERBEEK, Leyden 1946. A. TACCONE, Florence 1948. (stud.): J. M. LINFORTH,
Philoctetes. The Play and the Man. Un. Cal. Press 1956. x. MUTH, ‘Gottheit und
Mensch im Phil. des Soph.’. Studi Castiglioni. Florence 1959, 641. K. ALT, ‘ Schick-
sal und Physis im Phil. des Soph.’. Herm. 89, 1961, 141 (developing the view
propounded by BowRa, v. sup. p. 291, n. 2). P. W. HARSH, ‘The Réle of the
Bow in the Phil. of Soph.’. Am. Journ. Phil. 81, 1960, 408.
Oedipus Coloneus: (ed.): G. AMMENDOLA, Turin 1953. D. PIERACCIONI, Florence
1956. (stud.): G. MEAUTIS, L’Oedipe a Colone et le culte des héros. Neuchatel 1940.
J. M. LINFORTH, Religion and Drama in ‘Oedipus at Colonus’. Un. Cal. Press 1951.
Fragments: NAUCK, Trag. Graec. Frag. 2nd ed. Leipzig 1889. A. C. PEARSON (see
above on Jebb’s edition). E. DIEHL, Supplementum Sophocleam. Bonn 1913.
Papyri in Pack; Ichneutae and some other fragments in D. L. PAGE, Literary
Papyri. Loeb. Lib. 1950. D. FERRANTE, Naples 1958 (with trans.). v. STEFFEN,
Warsaw 1960. E. SIEGMANN, Untersuchungen zu Soph. Ichn. Hamb. 1941.
Scholia: w. DINDORE, Oxf. 1852. P. N. PAPAGEORGIOS, Leipz. 1888.v.DE MARCO,
Scholia in Soph. Oed. Col. Rome 1952. Lexica: F. ELLENDT, 2nd ed. by H. GENTHE,
Leipz. Berl. 1872, repr. Hildesheim 1958. Translations: English: prose trans. in
JEBB'S ed. (supra); verse trans. by GILBERT MURRAY have achieved wide popu-
larity. D. GRENE and others, The Complete Greek Tragedies (v. sup. under Aeschy-
lus). German: W. SCHILDKNECHT, Deutscher Sophokles. Bonn 1935. Complete
trans. by H. WEINSTOCK, Stuttg. 1941. E. STAIGER, Ziirich 1944. French: p.
MAZON, 2 vols. Paris 1950; now in the Coll. des Univ. de France (v. sup.). Italian:
E. BIGNONE, 4 vols. Florence 1937/38. Language: an important study in the 8th
volume of sCHNEIDEWIN-NAUCK, rev. E. BRUHN, Berl. 1899. F. R. EARP, The
Style of Sophocles. Cambr. 1944. J. C. F. NUCHELMANNS, Die nomina des soph.
Wortschatzes. Utrecht 1949 (with bibliog.) LEIF BERGSON, D. M. CLAY, F.
JOHANSEN v. sup. under the language of Aeschylus. Monographs: WILAMOWITZ,
Dramatische Technik des Sophokles, Berl. 1917, still cannot be ignored. G. PER-
ROTTA, Sofocle. Messina 1935. M. UNTERSTEINER, Sofocle. Florence 1935. T. B. L.
WEBSTER, Introduction to Sophocles. Oxf. 1936. c. M. BowRA, Sophoclean Tragedy.
Oxf. 1944. K. REINHARDT, Sophokles. 3rd ed. Frankf. a. M. 1947. H. WEINSTOCK,
Sophokles. 3rd ed. Wuppertal 1948. A. J. A. WALDOCK, Sophocles the Dramatist.
Cambr. 1951. C. H. WHITMAN, Sophocles. Harvard Un. Press 1951. J. C. OPSTEL-
TEN, S. and Greek Pessimism. Amsterdam 1952. Id., ‘Humanistisch en religieus
Standpunt in de moderne Beschouwing van Soph.’. Nederl. Akad. 1954. F.
EGERMANN, Vom attischen Menschenbild. Munich 1952. Id., “Arete und tragische
Bewusstheit bei Soph. und Herodot’. Vom Menschen in der Antike. Klass. Reihe
Il. Munich 1957, 5 in forced opposition to the interpretation followed by REin-
HARDT and others, among them the author of this book. pF. J. H. LETTERS, The
L 301
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Life and Work of S. Lond. 1953. V. EHRENBERG, S. and Pericles. Oxf. 1954.
H. D. F. KITTO, ‘The Idea of God in Aeschylus and S.’. Fondation Hardt (see p.
65 n. 3), 169. H. DILLER, ‘ Ueber das Selbstbewusstsein der soph. Personen’. Wien.
Stud. 69, 1956, 70. Id., ‘Menschendarstellung und Handlungsfiihrung bei Soph.’.
Ant. u. Abendl. 6, 1957, 157. H. D. F. KITTO, Form and Meaning in Drama. Lond.
1956. Id., Sophocles, Dramatist and Philosopher. Lond. 1958. S. M. ADAMS, Sophocles
the Playwright. Toronto 1957. M. IMHOF, Bemerkungen zu den Prologen der soph.
und eurip. Tragodien. Winterthur 1957. W. KRAUS, Strophengestaltung in der griech.
Tragidie. I. Aisch. u. Soph. Sitzb. Oest. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 231/4, 1957. G-
mEaUuTIS, Sophocle. Essai sur le héros tragique. Paris 1957. 1. ERRANDONEA, S.J.,
Sofocle. Investigaciones sobre la estructura dramdtica de sus 7 trag. y sobre la personalidad
de sus coros. Madrid 1958. G. M. KIRKWOOD, A Study of Soph. Drama. Cornell
Studies in Class. Phil. 31, 1958. J. KELLER, Struktur und dram. Funktion des Boten-
berichtes bei Aisch. und Soph, Diss. Tiibingen (typewritten). A. MADDALENA,
Sofocle. Turin 1959. J. DE ROMILLY, L’ Evolution du pathétique d’Eschyle a Euripide.
Paris 1961. See also the relevant sections in POHLENZ, HARSH, LESKY, KITTO and
D. W. LUCAS, Greek Tragic Poets. 2nd ed. Lond. 1959. Three short studies pre-
senting the poet from different points of view: Ww. SCHADEWALDT, Soph. und
das Leid. 4th ed. Potsdam 1948. H. DILLER, Géttliches und menschl. Wissen bei
Soph. Kiel 1950. A. LESKy, ‘Soph. und das Humane’. Alman. Oest. Akad. 1951
(1952), 222.

3 OLEH ERS PORMSSOE PORT RY

Attic tragedy offers an example unique in history of a work of universal art

arising from a city community, an art in which words and music, dancing and
painting combined to give the old mythology new life and to connect it with
the spiritual problems of the age. It is not surprising if we find it hard to give
any account of the other forms of poetry that existed at the same time.
The old choral ode achieved a new flowering in the drama,! and it was an
action of great significance when the young democracy assigned a definite place
to choral lyric in the Great Dionysia and thus ensured its independent existence.
We infer this from the statement of the Marmor Parium (ep. 46) that Hypo-
dicus of Chalcis in 508 was the first to present a dithyramb with a male chorus.
From that time onwards the performance of dithyrambs, on the eighth of
Elaphebolion, preceded the days on which tragedies were presented. Five of the
ten tribes provided each a chorus of men, the others choruses of boys. These
were called cyclic choruses, since the fifty members performed their dance
around the altar in the middle of the orchestra. The accompanying instrument
was the flute. Here also victory was shared by the choregus who bore the cost,
and he was permitted to set up his tripod in public.? The costly monument of
Lysicrates was intended to carry one of these tripods. We do not know when
the dithyrambic contest stopped being held: it was probably under the Empire.

' W. KRANZ, Stasimon. Berlin 1933.

2 Details in PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Dramatic Festivals of Athens. Oxf. 1953, 74 ff.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Out of all the choral poetry that was called for by the Dionysia, the Panathenaea
and other festivals year by year, almost nothing survives. The poems of Bacchy-
lides give us some idea of the classical dithyramb: the considerable changes in
the genre during the second half of the fifth century will have to be discussed
later.
Just as in the archaic period, a considerable part of a man’s life centred on the
jovial companionship of the symposium. This is very prettily illustrated in vase-
painting. But now it was not only the nobility who organized their drinking
habits in this way: the old forms were taken over by less select circles. This was
the usual pattern in the best period of Athenian democracy: the inheritance of
the aristocracy still survived to a large extent and was cultivated in a different
milieu. Song naturally still remained the normal entertainment of such social
occasions, and we may suppose that the scolion and the elegy were in high
favour. Contemporary politics, no doubt, were often the theme, but such pieces
were naturally fugitive. All that we have is a few verses by one Dionysius, who
was given the cognomen Chalcus from his having contributed to the introduc-
tion of copper money: they express a harmless pleasure in companionable
drinking,! and allude also to the game of kottabos, which we find represented in
vase-painting. A metal disc, balanced on a rod, was sprinkled with the remains
of the wine from one’s glass so that it fell off. The love of games was highly
developed among the Greeks of all periods. Dionysius amused himself by
standing the elegiac couplet on its head and making it begin with the penta-
meter — an interesting sign that the old forms were losing their rigidity. The
man is dated roughly by his participation in the founding of Thurii in 444. The
pleasure that he takes in nautical metaphors shows him to have been a true child
of the great age of Attic hegemony.
Elegy was extensively written at that time: Sophocles and Euripides were
among the exponents. Leading statesmen were happy to be celebrated in this
form, and we read in Plutarch’s Cimon that the tragedian Melanthius and the
philosopher Archelaus wrote in his honour.
We are better able to judge the epigrammatic poetry of the period. A trend
that was strong before the Persian wars (v. sup. p. 172) reached a splendid
maturity in the classical age. Poets from Simonides to Euripides and innumer-
able anonymi composed epigrams for graves, monuments and dedications. It
was inevitable that many were forged in the name of distinguished authors:
Simonides above all, as the acknowledged master of the epigram, had many
foundlings left at his door.” Both literary and epigraphic? tradition have pre-
served enough for us to appreciate the perfection of form and the power of
expression which this genre attained in the fifth century. The far-reaching in-
fluence of the Persian wars is discernible in this field also. Scarcely anywhere do
Tebascy 14881); 2 Genuine and supposititious 2, 107 D.
3 T. PREGER, Inscriptiones Graecae metricae ex scriptoribus praeter anthologiam collectae. Leipz.
1891. G. KAIBEL, Epigrammata Graeca ex lapidibus collecta. Berl. 1878. w. PEEK, Griech. Vers-
Inschriften. I. Grab-Epigramme. Berl. 1955; id., Griech. Grabgedichte. Berl. 1960 (with literal
and metrical translations). U. v. WILAMOWITZ, Hellenistische Dichtung. 1. Berl. 1924, 124.
H. BENGTSON, Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 181.
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we find the individual’s sacrifice for his people expressed with greater depth
and dignity than in the Attic epigrams on the fallen in the fifth century. The
distich form is by far the most common: the language is Attic with a more or
less strong tendency to borrow from epic. . . |
The iambos probably had no independent development during this period,
as appears from the vigour with which comedy trod in its footsteps. We have,
however, some remains of the iambi of the comic writer Hermippus (Anth.
Lyr. fasc. 3, 64 D), which he wrote side by side with his dramatic production.
Considering how little has been preserved of all the forms which were over-
shadowed by tragedy, we have to be glad that we can form a rather more
definite picture of epic poetry of the period. This does not apply to the epic
on Theseus, which probably existed in Attica at the time." All that we can say,
and that not with much certainty, about a Diphilus who wrote a Theseid and of
whom two choliambic lines survive (Anth. Lyr. fasc. 3. 138 D), is that he lived
in the fifth century.
We are better informed about Choerilus of Samos and his work. Plutarch
in his life of Lysander (18) tells us that the latter had Choerilus constantly about
him in the expectation of a poetical panegyric on his achievements. At this time
Choerilus already had a reputation and was presumably no longer young.
From Suidas’ fabulous account of him we may mention the report that he fled
from slavery in Samos and became a friend of Herodotus. This is literary anec-
dote reflecting the relation between the work of the epic poet and that of the
historian. Ancient tradition? gives the title of his poem as Persica or Perseis. A
papyrus (nr. 159 P.) gives the title (placed at the end after the ancient fashion)
in the form: XoupiAov moujpara BapBapiKxa. wndixd. tepa(iKa). We should not
too hurriedly infer three poems from this, dealing with barbarians, Medes and
Persians respectively. The subscription looks more like a rough table of con-
tents. It is an attractive supposition that Barbarica refers to the wars of the Persians
before their expedition against Greece. If this is so, the construction would
resemble that used by Herodotus. Thematic connections with Herodotus are
visible in the surviving fragments. A striking example is fr. 4, where at a military
review, as in Herodotus (7. 70), exotic warriors appear wearing as helmets the
flayed skin from the heads of horses. There are several other indications that
Choerilus may have taken Herodotus for his model, but the passages concerned
show variations which make it necessary to admit that they may both be follow-
ing the same source, but making different use of it.
The surviving verses (fr. 1 and ra) from the beginning of the poem are very
illuminating. The poet complains that the servants of the Muses were lucky
who lived in olden times when the meadows were yet untrodden.3 Now every-
thing has suffered a decline, the arts have become narrowly defined and the
poets of the time fall in line with the latest fashion. Thus, while trying to harness
Homeric techniques to the narration of history, Choerilus admits that poetry of
" L. RADERMACHER, Mythos und Sage bei den Griechen. 2nd ed. Vienna 1943, 252.
7 G. KINKEL, Epic. Graec. Fragm. Leipz. 1877, 265.
3 axyparos Aeywuwv= Eur, Hipp. 73.

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this kind has had its day. His life largely coincided with that of Antimachus of
Colophon, who followed a new and different line in his epics. The merits of the
two were frequently compared in the age that followed. In general the view
that favoured Antimachus prevailed: it finds vigorous expression in an epigram
of Crates (Anth. Pal. 11, 218). Choerilus represents the end of epic poetry in the
Homeric manner, and was aware that he did.

4 DAMON AND THE THEORY OF MUSIC

The loss of ancient music is on two counts to be regretted where the classical
period is concerned. First, we are prevented from grasping tragedy as an artistic
whole; secondly, there was scarcely any time in which the effect and educative
possibilities of music were examined with such enthusiasm and with such far-
reaching influence.
Towards the close of the sixth century all creative impulses in the arts came
to centre more and more on Athens. One indication among many is that the
next great reformer of the dithyramb after Arion, Lasus of Hermione, worked
at the court of the tyrant Hipparchus. Suidas says that he introduced competitive
performance of dithyrambs, and that this became part of the regular programme
of the Dionysia under the democracy. Apart from his changes in the dithyramb
(we do not know what they were, only that they were considerable), he dis-
cussed various musical problems. According to Suidas he wrote a book on the
subject: whether he did or not, he can certainly be reckoned as the founder of
Greek musicology.
Pindar’s instructor Agathocles, and probably also Lamprocles, who wrote
dithyrambs and an ode to Athens which we have already mentioned, were the
teachers of a man who became very influential not as a poet but as a musical
theorist. Damon,! from the Attic deme of Oa, was close to Pericles in two ways
— as his teacher in music and his adviser in politics; although it is possible that
the introduction of payment for jurors was suggested not by Damon, but by his
father Damonides. But certainly Damon took an active part in politics, and in
so doing suffered ridicule from the comic writers and ostracism from the citizens
(Plut. Per. 4). He went very deeply into the question of the effect that music
has on the nature and behaviour of man. A fragment of Philodemus (Mus. t.
13) tells us that he faced the question whether music conduced to virtue as a
whole or only to particular virtues, and expressed himself decidedly for the
former. So highly did he rate the effect of music on society that he maintained
that changes in music led necessarily to constitutional changes in the state (Plat.
Rep. 424 C). These views he expressed in a treatise purporting to be a speech to
the Areopagus. The choice of this form is understandable, since, in dealing with
questions of musical education, it was handling matters which at one time were

I y. V. WILAMOWITZ, Griechische Verskunst. Berl. 1921, 59 ff. with the passages cited.
VS 37. H. RYFFEL, ‘Eukosmia. Ein Beitrag zur Wiederherstellung des Aeropagitikos des
Damon’. Mus. Helv. 4, 1947, 23. H. KOLLER, Mimesis in der Antike. Berne 1954, 21. V. EHREN-
BERG, Sophocles and Pericles. Oxf. 1954, 92. A. E. RAUBITSCHEK, ‘Damon’. Classica et Medi-
aevalia 16, 1955, 78.
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the immediate concern of that ancient court. There is no reason, however, to

suppose that the treatise was written before the wings of the Areopagus were
clipped in 462. The way in which Aeschylus speaks of it in the Eumenides shows
that the form which Damon chose would be perfectly conceivable at a later
date. Even much later the Areopagiticus of Isocrates attests the strong survival
of the Areopagus as a conception.
Damon’s treatise is most fully discussed in Plato’s Republic (400 B). We learn
there that he dealt with rhythms and the analysis of particular metres. But the
book was far from being a handbook of metric: its main subject was un-
doubtedly the effect of music on morals and therewith the whole question of
musical education. In the fragment of Philodemus which we have already
mentioned Damon was speaking of singing and the lyre; it is a likely supposition
that he took sides in the old ‘battle of the instruments’ and opposed the flute. It
is a pity that we cannot say how far Pythagorean doctrines appear in Damon’s
work. He can hardly have escaped their influence. The musician Pythoclides,
who taught Agathocles and Lamprocles and was thus Damon’s academic
grandfather, is referred to as a Pythagorean (schol. Plat. Alc. I 118 C).1
The influence of Damon is particularly apparent in Plato, who studied music
under his pupil Draco. The questions which he raised were vigorously debated,
as we see from the Hibeh Papyrus with fragments of a speech to the Athenians
(nr. 1896 P. probably early fourth century), totally denying that music influ-
ences human character.

5 HERODOTUS
In Sophoclean tragedy and in the Parthenon Greek classical art reached its
culmination.” It achieved maturity on Attic soil, and the combination of Ionic
and Doric elements in the great temple on the Acropolis is an eloquent symbol
of the special conditions under which this development was completed.
In Greece more strongly than anywhere else the different arts traditionally
had a life of their own, and itis wholly understandable that they reached maturity
at different times. Beside the mature drama of Sophocles we find the historical
work of Herodotus, with its many archaic features and a patchwork quality
about its component parts which has not yet arrived at organic unity. Yet in
this quality lies the peculiar charm of Herodotus’ narrative.
We know as little about his life as we usually do about classical authors, but
it is enough to establish a connection between the multiplicity of separate
elements in his work and the circumstances of his intellectual development.
Herodotus was born shortly before the expedition of Xerxes, in Halicarnassus
on the south-west coast of Asia Minor. This was a colony sent out from Troezen,
and thus essentially Doric. Earlier it had belonged to the Dorian league of six
cities, but in Herodotus’ time it had withdrawn. Ionian elements must have come
‘ W. BURKERT, Weisheit und Wissenschaft. Nuremberg 1962, 270, 79, cites passages sup-
porting the view that the notion of music as a moral agent came from the Pythagoreans.
He himself, however, remains sceptical.
2 On the classic as a historical phenomenon: Das Problem des Klassischen in der Antike (by
various hands). Leipzig 1931.
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into the city fairly early, since we find fifth-century inscriptions from it in
Ionic. But Herodotus’ native city was predominantly Dorian, and at all times
he had a certain sympathy for the Dorian character, which was displayed at its
purest in Sparta. He also soon became acquainted with the qualities of Ionians,
without being attracted by them.! His father was called Lyxes — a Carian name,
like that of Panyassis, whom we met as an epic poet, and who was a close kins-
man of Herodotus’, probably his father’s brother. Thus Herodotus’ pedigree
takes us back to the Carian hinterland of the city and suggests cultural influences
from the near east.
While Herodotus was growing up, Halicarnassus was ruled by Carian
despots, of whom the most outstanding was Artemisia. This remarkable woman,
who showed the greatest loyalty to Xerxes in his expedition against Greece, is
spoken of by the historian with obvious respect. When Greek power in the
Aegean was strengthened by success against the Persians, Halicarnassus also
rose against her foreign rulers. In the attempt to overthrow Lygdamis, a son of
Artemiisia’s, Panyassis seems to have lost his life, while Herodotus had to go into
exile. He lived for a time in Samos, where he was brought again into contact,
closer now than before, with the Ionian way of life. From Samos he returned
home to take his part in the overthrow of Lygdamis. This event cannot have
occurred long before 454, since in that year Halicarnassus appears as an ally in
the Athenian tribute-lists.
The next fixed point in his chronology is the founding of Thurii in 444/3.
This pan-Hellenic colony was founded through the policy of Pericles near the
ruins of Sybaris: the colonists included such well-known figures as the architect
Hippodamus of Miletus, a great innovator in town-planning, and the sophist
Protagoras. Even Empedocles is named among them. We do not know whether
Herodotus went out with the original colonists or settled there later. At all
events he was given full citizenship in the new colony: in good manuscripts of
the Histories he describes himself in the opening words as Herodotus of Thurii,
not of Halicarnassus (Aristot. Rhet. 3, 9. 1409 a 29).
Some time after the overthrow of Lygdamis and before settling in Thurii he
undertook those travels which did much to influence his development and the
composition of his history. We can distinguish two principal ventures. The
first took him to Egypt, where he stayed for about four months, and thence
to Phoenicia and Mesopotamia. A second journey led to Scythia, where
he seems to have made Olbia the headquarters of his researches. Attempts to
establish the relative chronology of these travels have led to no certain results.
But from 3. 12 it seems likely that Herodotus was in Egypt for some time after
the battle of Papremis (460).
The object of these travels was to learn about distant countries: they exempli-
fied the same curiosity that caused the first steps in European science to be taken
on Ionian soil. Herodotus himself gives ‘having a look’ (Gewpin) as the motive
for the travels of such men as Solon (1. 30) and Anacharsis (4.76), which con-
firms the construction we have put on his own journeys.
1 Cf. JACOBY (v. inf.), 211.
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It was during the first period of travels that Herodotus stayed in Athens,
which enriched his experience no less than his long journeys did. We may sup-
pose this stay to have been in the years before, or perhaps shortly after, the
foundation of Thurii. If so, it was the Athens of Pericles, with all its storm and
stress, that took a decisive part in moulding the man and the writer. The
sophists were already producing their revolutionary effect on intellectual life,
and Herodotus must surely have made the acquaintance of Protagoras in con-
nection with Thurii. Yet when we consider his attitude towards nomos, we shall
see that sophistic ideas by no means went to his head. By a natural contrast —
here again we must anticipate — tragedy affected him the more deeply. In many
passages he shows a very great familiarity with epic and lyric poetry.’ Presum-
ably he brought this knowledge with him from home: now he had before him
the full achievement of that branch of poetry in which all the power of many
different traditions worked together to produce a greater emotional effect than
had been seen before. He was particularly closely connected with Sophocles:
in discussing the Antigone and Electra we have found indications of this affinity
in thematic correspondences, and we mentioned (p. 274) the poem which the
poet, as he himself attests, wrote at the age of fifty-five to his friend. Since
Sophocles’ birth is credibly dated in 497, we may suppose that the poem was
connected with Herodotus’ departure for Thurii.
The question whether Herodotus should be described as an honorary Athenian
subject will have to be discussed in connection with his work. In any case, the
fact that a man from Halicarnassus should have spent a great part of his life in
Athens shows strikingly how soon after the Persian wars that city had become
the intellectual centre of Hellenism. In his treatise De Herodoti malignitate (26)
Plutarch says that on the proposal of one Anytus, Herodotus was given a reward
of ten talents. Eusebius puts this in his chronicle as having happened in 445/44,
and says it was occasioned by a public reading given by Herodotus. This is un-
certain: the sum of ten talents is quite incredible, but there is no reason to doubt
some material recognition in Athens of the historian’s work.
We know virtually nothing about Herodotus’ later years, not even whether
he came back from Thurii to Athens. He was still alive when the Peloponnesian
war broke out. Several passages, of which some (e.g. 6, 91. 7, 1373 233. 9, 73)
are beyond all doubt, refer to the first years of the war. If we are right in assum-
ing that he worked on his history right up to his last days, then his death must
have occurred about this time. Such passages as we have mentioned do not, of
course, give us any certain information about the chronology of composition,
since we must always reckon with the possibility of
later additions.
The length and variety of Herodotus’ work makes it hard to summarize and
still harder to evaluate. He has sometimes been represented as a cheerful and
rather shallow raconteur, sometimes as a profound thinker about human
destiny, sometimes again as an historian who knew exactly what he wanted to
achieve. The foreground will always be occupied with the question: How far
was Cicero right in describing him as pater historiae (De legg. 1. 5)? To give
1 SCHMID 2. $53 f.
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 FHE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
some basis for the discussion of individual points, we give a synopsis of the work
as a whole. It cannot, of course, be more than a bare outline.
He begins with a sentence avowing his purpose, and thus serving much the
same function as a modern title-page. We are given the name and birthplace of
the author and his intention to preserve the memory of the past and of great
human actions:! finally he states his immediate purpose, which is to explain
the causes of the war between the Greeks and the barbarians. At the outset he
refers expressly to Persian writers — a fact which will be important in discussing
his sources. According to these authorities the long feud between east and west
began over the stealing of each other’s women. The Phoenicians carried off Io
from Argos; then some Greeks carried off Europa from Tyre. At this point they
could have cried each other quit, but the Greeks sailed to Aea in Colchis and
kidnapped Medea. It was now up to the Asiatics to level the score, and one
generation later — corresponding to the relative chronology of the myths -
Paris set out to capture Helen. So far it had been the tit for tat of gang warfare,
but now the Greeks became really guilty: they began a war between nations
over a runaway wife.
These first five chapters are remarkable in many ways. The old opposition
between Europe and Asia, which for Herodotus reached its culmination in the
expedition of Xerxes, is here tied up with mythology, but a mythology stripped
of the glamour of the heroic age, forced into a pseudo-historical reconstruction
and trivialized in the process. But Herodotus keeps up a critical aloofness. At
the end of the Persian account of the rape of Io he quotes a Phoenician variant,
but says that he has no means of deciding which is true. What he does is rather
to put all these tales on one side and declare his own intention of starting the
history with a description of the man who in his opinion was first guilty of
aggression against the Greeks.
The name of Croesus introduces the section devoted to the Lydians (1. 6-94).
After declaring that this king was the first to reduce Greek cities to subjection and
payment of tribute, Herodotus characteristically casts his eyes back from the
present scene to remote antiquity. Croesus was one of the Mermnad clan, who
had ended the domination of the Heraclidae under such tragic circumstances.
There follows the story of Candaules and Gyges, a story of double guilt which
introduces us to the founder of the Mermnad dynasty. From Gyges he passes
briefly over Ardys and Sadyattes to speak of Alyattes and his expedition against
Miletus, with which the story of Arion is loosely connected. Alyattes was suc-
ceeded by Croesus: thus the long digression has come back to its starting-
point. This archaic style of composition is characteristic of the work.
Once again (1. 26; cf. 1. 6) we are concerned with Croesus and his aggression
against Greek cities, and we hear how his power grew. At the height of his
fortunes he was visited by Solon, when that conversation took place between
the rich Asiatic and the Athenian sage (1. 30-33) which turned on human value-
judgments in relation to the divine governance. Croesus, who had reckoned
himself the most fortunate of men, was punished by God and reduced to
™ On this sentence see p. 316.
LZ 309
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extremity by two successive calamities. He lost a son in a hunting accident at

the hands of that same Adrastus whom he himself had protected and purified
from bloodguilt (1. 34-45). Then he took up arms for a campaign against the in-
creasing might of the Persians: a campaign which was to cost him his empire.
The preliminaries are related in detail — consulting of oracles, attempts to find
powerful allies in Greece — and Herodotus finds room for an excursus on Pisis-
tratus and on the early history of Sparta. Next comes Croesus’ expedition into
Cappadocia: he is shut up in Sardes, the city falls, and we have the striking tale
of his last-minute rescue from being burnt alive. Some remarks on curiosities
in Lydia are loosely tacked on to this section, which ends emphatically with the
sentence: ‘Thus the Lydians were now subjects of the Persians’.
It is the Persians now who occupy the foreground, and once again we have
a long flash-back. We must stop here for a moment to see how true the observa-
tion is that the structure of the work follows archaic notions of art, that is, it
goes by association of thought. It used to be considered a leading principle in
the composition that the various nations received attention as and when the
Persian expansion came up against them. If this were so, the first book would
have begun with the earliest advances of Persian power, and the section on the
Lydians would have taken a correspondingly later place. In fact the narrative
is quite different; it is associative. For the sake of completeness, Herodotus has
traced back all kinds of stories beyond the beginning of the hostilities that sprang
from east-west opposition. All that he can say on his own authority is that
Croesus was the first to enslave Greek cities. This leads him to the history of
the Lydians, which ends with the overthrow of Croesus by the Persians. This
gives him occasion to speak at greater length of the latter, which necessitates
another beginning ab ovo. All this works out very smoothly and spontaneously;
but at the same time it secures one advantage which can hardly be accidental:
the edifying story of Croesus and Solon comes in this way at the beginning of
the work and thus a note is struck which is to echo again and again in what
follows.
A constructional principle which Herodotus often follows can be seen in the
sequence of the Persian kings. Before dealing with the reign of Cyrus, Herodotus
goes back to the Medish kings, then relates the miraculous story of the child-
hood of Cyrus with its eastern trappings, and adds on to it the overthrow of the
Medish kingdom. The rise of the Persians to a dominant position gives occasion
for a digression on Persian customs (1. 131-140).
During the reign of Cyrus the westward expansion of the Persians soon made
the Greek cities of Asia Minor realize their growing danger. They sent ambas-
sadors to wait on the king, and when he made no satisfactory reply they sought
help from Sparta. Again we find a feature of archaic technique in composition,
in that a long section follows (1. 142-151), describing the Greek settlements in
Asia Minor, before we are told of the request to Sparta and the Spartan embassy
to Cyrus.
The remainder of the first book consists of two long sections describing the
rapid growth of Persian power. The first tells of the subjugation of western
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Asia Minor and the Greek states by Harpagus: the second relates the expedition
against Babylonia, which Herodotus calls Assyria. Here we find the ‘ Babylonian
logos’ (1. 178-200) describing the city and country and some parts of their
history. The narrative that follows deals with Cyrus’ expedition against the
Massagetae and his death in the course of it (1. 201-216), and again there is a
description of the lands and settlements of the people concerned.
The second book brings us to the reign of Cambyses. At the outset we are
told that the new king regarded the Ionians and Aecolians as slaves whom he had
inherited from his father, and accordingly he conscripted them into his expedi-
tion against Egypt. The third book begins with the same statement, thus marking
the end of the largest of all those parentheses which in Herodotus have a life of
their own outside the historical narrative. The ‘Egyptian logos’ which makes
up the second book begins with a detailed account of the nature of the country,
its curiosities, its religion and the diverse customs of its people (2. 5-98). Then
comes a sketch of Egyptian history (2. 99-182) down to Amasis, Cambyses’
opponent, where he picks up the thread of his story about the Persian expedition
against Egypt.
The third book very strikingly illustrates how Herodotus, no matter how
deeply involved in ethnography, never lets the historical dimension out of his
sight. Thus the Egyptian logos in its second part is turned into a history of
Egypt. We should also observe how carefully Herodotus tells us of the change
in his sources when he passes (2. 99) from one section to the other. Until then
he had gone on his own observation and enquiries: now, for the historical
section, he has to follow Egyptian tradition.
The third book starts with the preparations for the expedition and the con-
quest of Egypt by Cambyses (3. 1-16). Then follow his hazardous expeditions
from the newly won country (3. 17-26) and the description of his behaviour
(3. 27-38) which branded him as a wanton persecutor of the native religion and
a crazed tyrant.
It is a pure synchronism which effects the next transition: while Cambyses
was marching against Egypt, the Spartans went to war against Samos and its
ruler Polycrates (3. 39). The technique now familiar to us sandwiches in between
here and 3. 44 the story of the rise of Polycrates! and the ominous return of his
ring. The part played in this tale by Amasis affords a loose bond with the expe-
dition of Cambyses.
The motives and the course of the Spartan campaign are described in detail
(3. 39-59), and Herodotus brings into his narrative the enmity between Corinth
and Samos as well. This gives him the opportunity to relate some dark episodes
from the family history of Periander, tyrant of Corinth.
Book 3. 60 strikingly illustrates how all is grist for Herodotus’ mill. He assures
us that his reason for dealing with the Samians in such detail is that they were
responsible for three feats unrivalled among the Greeks: their aqueduct bored
through a mountain, the breakwater of their harbour, and the temple of Hera.
I Y.-J, DIESNER, ‘Die Gestalt des Tyrannen Polykrates bei Herodot’. Acta Antiqua Acad.
Scient. Hungaricae 7, 1959, 211.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

We should hardly be doing him an injustice if we saw the matter the other way
round: the excuse is put there simply because he could not bear to pass over
these great wonders in silence. This is very understandable if we consider his
special connections with Samos.
‘In 3. 61, we come to the reign of Darius, which is prefaced by an account of
preceding events, the death of Cambyses and the overthrow of the false Smerdis.
Here we find those chapters (80-83) in which the conspirators argue about the
type of constitution they propose.! The claims of democracy, oligarchy and
monarchy are put forward: monarchy wins, and Darius, not without some
adroit management, becomes sole ruler. An account of the satrapies and the
tribute that each paid (3. 89-96) gives us a picture of Persian resources at the
time. Herodotus next lists the peoples who were not tributary, but sent gifts:
thus he is enabled to describe the wealth of the neighbouring territories (3. 106-
116), and even to include a brief account of India.
After an episode describing the fall of Intaphernes, one of the conspirators
against the Magians (3. 118 f.), comes an event of great significance in the
Persian drive to the west — the conquest of Samos (3. 120-149). In this connection
we are told of the downfall of Polycrates: thus the earlier narrative is continued
and concluded. The book ends with the crushing of the Babylonian revolt.
The fourth book up to c. 144 is concerned with Darius’ expedition against
the Scythians. Again we find the characteristic manner of composition. The
causes of the war are set out in the first four chapters, but it is not until c. 83
that he takes up the thread again with a description of the preparations. The
intervening space is taken up with an account of the country, its people and
their customs, which in its turn incorporates the story of Aristeas, a description
of the Hyperboreans and numerous bits of geography. The chapters on the
shape of the earth (4. 36-45) are particularly interesting, with their obvious
polemic against the over-simplified map of Hecataeus. The account of warlike
preparations on both sides (4. 83-121) incorporates an excursus on Zalmoxis —
of great interest for the history of religion — and some information about the
geography of Scythia and its neighbouring countries. The next section (4.
122-144) relates the course of the war up to Darius’ return.
The narrative of the Libyan expedition, which takes up the rest of the fourth
book (145-205), is rather differently composed. Herodotus explicitly defers
any discussion of the causes of hostility and begins with the history of Cyrene
and its rulers. Only then do we find the now familiar triadic composition -
causes of the war; description of Libya; course of the campaign.
The fifth book begins with the reduction of Thrace by the Persians (1-27).
In two passages Herodotus neatly brings in an account of Histiaeus, who was
highly rewarded by Darius for his services in the Scythian expedition, but was
later suspected and recalled to Susa. This serves as prelude to the narrative of
the Ionian revolt, which carries over into the next book (5. 28-6. 32). Once
again we have at first a relatively short section describing the motives of the
Ionian revolt, the deliberations in Miletus and the first preparations, including
‘ H. APFFEL, Die Verfassungsdebatte bei Herodot. Diss. Erlangen 1957.
312,
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the dispatch of Aristagoras to Greece (5. 28-38). The narrative of this mission,
which miscarried in Sparta, but met with some response in Athens, is interrupted
by accounts of Spartan and Athenian history, which form — although on a more
modest scale — a counterpart to the descriptions of foreign nations. We may also
remember that another piece of diplomacy, Croesus’ attempt to secure Greek
support, as told in the first book, also provided the cue for some historical in-
formation about Athens and Sparta.
The course of the revolt, spreading to Phrygia, Caria, Cyprus and the Helles-
pont, is carried on without appreciable interruption down to the catastrophe of
Lade, the fall of Miletus and the death of Histiaeus.
Before starting on the narrative of the great Persian expedition which
threatened the liberty of Greece, as a kind of entr’acte between that and the
Ionian revolt, Herodotus relates various hostile undertakings against Greek
cities in the northwest Aegean and the expedition of Mardonius against Mace-
donia (6. 33-47). In the course of this narrative he has the opportunity to tell
the story of Miltiades and to prepare us for his coming role at the decisive hour.
The greater part of the sixth book (48-140) is taken up with the expedition
ordered by Darius and the great deliverance of the Athenians at Marathon.
The techniques of composition are those that we know well. Darius demands
tokens of subjection from the Greeks: when Aegina is one of the islands to
give these tokens — earth and water — this leads to Athenian resentment and
Spartan intervention under Cleomenes. This operation gives an opportunity
to expound all the complex story of Athenian relations with the island on their
doorstep; and the Aeginetan excursus in turn serves to enclose some passages of
Spartan history. In this Herodotean sandwich the slices of bread are of very
different thickness. A very brief statement of the beginning of the action is
followed at once by the digression, and the important events are related at
greater length afterwards. This technique often recurs. Here the mention of the
Spartan king Cleomenes gives the cue for relating the conflict between him and
Demaratus and the fate of the two men. This excursus is useful also as a signifi-
cant prelude to the vital part played by Demaratus and his desertion to Darius
in the following narrative.
The account of the expedition, leading to the defeat and withdrawal of the
Persians, is followed by two appendices. The refutation of the rumour that the
Alcmeonidae had tried to help the Persians by a treacherous signal leads to an
excursus on the Alcmeonidae and their important part in Athenian history
(6. 121-131). At the end is the story of Agariste, who dreamt that she gave
birth to a lion. A few days later she became the mother of Pericles.
The second of these appendices deals with the death of Miltiades. This is
Herodotus’ way: when he mentions a famous man in the course of the narrative,
he traces his destiny right to the end. He did this before, in the section on
Sparta, dealing with Leotychides and Cleomenes.
The seventh book begins with the death of Darius and the succession of
Xerxes (1-4). The description of his expedition against Greece occupies the
remaining three books. The scale and significance of the invasion is matched
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by a broadening and heightening of the treatment. A lengthy prelude (5-19)

gives an account of Xerxes’ decision to make war, with a dramatic and circum-
stantial description of the council-meeting, speeches and counter-speeches of
the generals, and miraculous dreams. The next two chapters, in distinctly
elevated language, stress the uniqueness of the enormous undertaking, and set
the tone for the following narrative of the preparations and advance of the
Persian armies. The climactic points in the composition are the crossing of the
Hellespont (44-57), with the conversation between Xerxes and Artabanus, and
the great review at Doriscus (59-104) with the catalogue of contingents and
the king’s conversation with Demaratus. Both these conversations serve the
purpose of warnings to a mortal who is priding himself on his power.
The war has necessarily to be described in narratives proceeding in parallel.
This practice begins in the 58th chapter, where the sailing of the fleet is followed
by the corresponding advance of the army. On a larger scale the part describing
Persian preparations is paralleled by those which deal with Greek reactions
and military precautions (138-178: the passage has a clearly marked introduc-
tion). Greek preparations are largely concerned with the sending of embassies.
Since one of these was to Gelon of Syracuse, Herodotus characteristically takes
the opportunity of describing him and his position in the Greek-speaking west.
This is not done in the manner of those lengthy /ogoi that came in the earlier
books: we have rather a predominantly historical survey, in which the struggle
against Carthage makes a significant parallel to the main theme.
The section on Greek military measures ends with the deployment of their
forces at Thermopylae and Artemisium. The Persians are now once more the
theme, and the progress of their fleet is traced as far as Aphetae (179-195). In
all that follows Herodotus sticks closely to the course of events, so that a brief
summary is all we need give. The battle of Thermopylae (7. 196-206) has its
counterpart at sea in the battle of Artemisium (8. 1-21). Next comes the Persian
advance, with their ill-starred attempt on Delphi (8. 23-39), and the approach
to the battle of Salamis (8. 40-82), with a detailed account of the councils
of war on both sides, particularly the threefold discussions among the Greek
leaders. The battle is described on a scale commensurate with its importance
(8, 83-95), and its consequences and the movement of forces on both sides after
the battle are described in detail.
The narrative of the second year of the war begins with movements of the
rival fleets (8. 130-132), but soon passes to developments on land, leading to
the decisive battle at Platacae. The negotiations which went before this stage
in the campaign, the deployment of the armies in the battle, the course of the
fighting, the booty, the burial of the dead, are all described impressively and in
great detail (8. 133-9. 89). A shorter narrative style is used for the last great
event of this year, the storming of the Persian naval encampment at Mycale
(90-113).
The conclusion of the whole work is in many ways remarkable. While the
defeated Persians were retiring on Sardes, Masistes, one of Xerxes’ brothers,
scornfully condemned the general Artayntes for his mismanagement of the
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campaign. Artayntes drew his sword to cut Masistes down, but a third party
intervened and prevented bloodshed. This leads at once to the story (108-113)
that in Sardes Xerxes fell in love with his brother’s wife, and that this guilty
passion brought in its train many calamities, ending in the destruction of
Masistes and his family, Is it simply that Herodotus, having occasion to mention
Masistes just once, drags in a piece of Persian history purely for the interest that
it may have in itself? Or has he something more in mind? He stresses that the
man who saved Masistes from the sword of the infuriated Artayntes did so not
only out of affection for Masistes, but for Xerxes also, whom he saved from
losing a brother. This is the same Xerxes who in his infatuation prepares to
dishonour his brother’s bed, and causes the death of him and his family. Does
Herodotus intend to impress us forcibly once more with the extraordinary
vagaries of human destiny? Does he end with yet another example of that
tyrannical caprice which had mortally threatened the freedom of Greece? We
may think so, but we must remain aware of the danger of dragging in to such
a long and varied work themes which were not intended by the author. Hero-
dotus makes it more difficult for us, since he does not normally give any com-
mentary on coincidences of this kind.! The uncertainties that thus arise are in-
herent in the largely archaic nature of his work.
A similar problem comes up in the last chapter of the work. After the story
of Masistes Herodotus returns to the Greeks, and makes his last narrative that
of their expedition to the Hellespont and the capture of Sestus by the Athenians.
Here Artayctes, who had robbed a sanctuary of Protesilaus, suffered his punish-
ment. Immediately after, at the very end of the book, we are told that an
ancestor of this Artayctes was the author of a proposal submitted to Cyrus by
the Persian nobles. Now that the Persians were powerful, he suggested, they
should quit their small and barren country and take possession of a better. But
Cyrus pointed out that strength and courage throve on a hard soil, while soft
countries bred only soft men who were unable to maintain their freedom. The
Persians yielded to his better judgment.
These are the last words that Herodotus has for us. It has been and still is
keenly disputed whether we have to reckon this as the end or to suppose that
the work was left unfinished.” The latter view has been supported by promises
that Herodotus makes here and there in the Histories without ever carrying
them out. Thus in 7. 213 he says that the death of Ephialtes will be told later,
and it has struck many people that in 1. 184 he promises an account of the kings
of Babylon in the Assyrian Jogoi, but never gives one. But these arguments are
not decisive. Herodotus spent many years on his work, and there are indica-
tions of later additions.3 It may be purely an oversight if Herodotus promises
something and fails to do it. Herodotus has as good a right to nod as Homer,
To decide the question whether 9. 122 is the end we have only the chapter
itself. The mention of Cyrus, the founder of Persian power, and the basic
1 A good example in H. sTRASBURGER, ‘Herodot und das perikleische Athen’. Historia
4, 1955, 1- 2 POHLENZ (v. inf.), 163 with bibliography.
3 E.g. in 4. 99 the reference to Iapygia — an addition made in the west.
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political maxim put into his mouth are capable of two different interpretations.
The passage looks back antithetically to the speech of Xerxes to his councillors
(7. 8) in which he expressly assigns the traditional Persian claim to power as
the reason for coveting ever new dominions: in both passages the key word is
*jyewovin. Thus we have the last three books, with their narrative of the decisive
events, framed round by expressions pregnant with significance for the whole
story. Or alternatively we might find the relevance of the chapter concerned
in the very beginning of the work, where Herodotus makes healthy moderation
the guarantee in one place of the individual’s happiness, in another of the freedom
of nations. We cannot deny that the judgment given by Cyrus could have had
great relevance in the period of Atenian military and political expansion. This
argument loses some of its weight when we reflect that the closing chapter is
concerned with one specialized form of expansionist policy, namely the occupa-
tion of a foreign country in order to live there oneself. In addition, the relevance
of the thought to a problem being discussed at the time could well have led
Herodotus to include this section. Hard soil: hard men, and vice versa — this
was akin to the theory that we find later in the Hippocratic Airs, Waters and
Places.!
If nevertheless we find reasons in the subject matter for accepting 9. 122 as
an appropriate ending, we certainly cannot find it so on formal grounds. It is
hard to be content with such a haphazard ending to a work of such archaic
elaboration and length, especially if we bear in mind the careful composition of
the opening. But there is cogency in the arguments brought forward by van
Groningen? in a wider context: that archaic and early classical compositions
often show a fairly elaborate beginning, but an abrupt end. Thus there is some-
thing to be said for taking the conversation with Cyrus as the true ending of
the work.
In considering the various constituent elements of this many-sided work we
can best begin with the opening sentence. In the first words of a complex piece
of syntax that is of basic importance for his philosophy of history he promises
‘the exposition of his discoveries’ — foropins ardSe€is. This might serve as a
motto for the work, so well does it show the soil from which it sprang: it is an
expression of that constant and lively curiosity which accompanied the Ionian
colonists on their distant travels, and which was most perfectly embodied in
those voyages of exploration which took men far afield purely to increase
knowledge. With these words Herodotus puts himself in the tradition of
Jonian ethnography,’ and thus continues in one (but only one) aspect of his
work a tendency which was exemplified by Hecataeus. This aspect finds its
purest expression in the large ethnographical logoi, such as the Egyptian,
Scythian and Libyan, whose place in the work was apparent in our synopsis.
To these may be added a number of smaller ethnographical digressions, like
t On differences of viewpoint see F. HEINIMANN, Nomos und Physis. Basel 1945, 24.
* La Composition littéraire archaique grecque. Verh. Nederl. Ak. N.R. 65/2. Amsterd. 1958,
70.
> K, TRUDINGER, Studien zur Geschichte der griech.-rém. Ethnographie. Diss. Basel 1918.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
that on the Massagetae at the end of the first book. In fact an interest in ethno-
graphy permeates the work down to its smallest details, and is constantly
revealed in particular observations.
We can thus establish a line of descent from Hecataeus; but we must make an
important distinction. The attitude of Herodotus is defined in that opening
sentence from which we have been discussing the first words. The object of this
‘exposition of his discoveries’ is ‘that what has happened among men should
not be destroyed by time, and that great and remarkable achievements both of
Greeks and of barbarians, should not lose their due fame, both generally and,
in particular, how they came first to make war on each other’. In this sentence —
a rather laborious formulation, as has been noticed — it is not easy to see the
connection of thought between one part and another. In order to arrive at an
interpretation partly satisfying the demands of more modern notions, some
scholars have proposed that the ‘great and remarkable achievements’ (épya)
should be taken as referring to building works only, and that this conception is
enlarged by the addition “what has happened among men’.! Certainly we can
reckon such things as the Pyramids among the ‘achievements’, but we ought
not to restrict the latter in a way that is justified neither by the sentence itself
nor by the course of the narrative. Rather, the last member of this somewhat ill-
organized tricolon seems intended to define the theme of the work rather more
closely. The author intends to deal with human history, more especially with
great achievements of Hellenes and barbarians; finally — this being the main
theme — he will relate the hostilities between them, meaning the course of the
Persian wars.
Two things clearly emerge from this introductory sentence: how strongly
Herodotus felt himself to be following Homer in preserving fame from
oblivion, and how much his interests centre round men and what they do and
suffer. Here again we see a difference from Hecataeus. Certainly there is much
geographical information in Herodotus — to mention only his exposition of the
parts of the inhabited world (4. 36) — but normally it is directly related to human
life, as in the description of the Nile or of the rivers of Scythia. Man occupies a
central place in the Histories as he cannot be supposed to have done in Hecataeus.
The infrequency with which we find details of flora and fauna chimes in well
with the observation made earlier, that the ethnographical /ogoi never lose sight
of the historical dimension.
If we lay a particular stress on man as the object of Herodotus’ curiosity, it is
not with the intention of making a philosopher out of a teller of tales. We shall
have occasion later to consider what Herodotus thought about the world in
general, and how deep his thoughts were. But he was above all a child of the
Jonian spirit, impelled by an insatiable curiosity to enquire into anything outside
normal, everyday experience. Hence comes his delight in digressions on men
and manners, their ways and circumstances of life; hence also the importance
of a second constituent element in his work. The romance or novel, which
declares by its very name that it is concerned with something new or unheard
1 yacosy (v. inf.), 334. Cf. also H. ERBSE, Festschr. Snell. Munich 1956, 209.
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of, differs from saga or fairytale in that the remarkable element in it is confined
to the human sphere and proceeds without any element of the supernatural.
We remarked earlier that this kind of narrative must have had a vigorous life in
Ionia from an early date, although we only catch sight of it here and there.
Herodotus incorporates a great many such narratives into his work: he scatters
them loosely, or sometimes makes a whole skein of them around some important
individual. In this he was building on a rich, principally Ionian tradition, of
which his work enables us to form some conception. One of the reasons for
the large role played by the romance in Herodotus is his love of the unusual in
human fate or behaviour: the other is his sheer joy in telling a story — a joy
which came from his supreme skill.
Herodotus is equally valuable and equally delightful when he describes
strange peoples and when he displays his mastery of anecdote. Sometimes these
are the only elements in his work that have been recognized: it has been for-
gotten that we are dealing with a man whom the ancients themselves reckoned
as the father of history. The reputation of Herodotus in this respect has suffered
from his having Thucydides as his successor. Thucydides, who must have met
him in Athens, whom legend represents as among his audience at a reading at
Olympia, far excelled Herodotus as an historian in his critical survey of early
Greek history and as a thinker in his physiology and pathology of power. But
it is only by false and exaggerated application of the comparative method that
Herodotus has been judged by Thucydides’ standards and characterized by what
he lacks in the comparison. Taken by himself, he has claims to genuine historical
method which are good enough to deserve the title that Cicero gives him.
Any just evaluation of Herodotus as an historian must start from the sources
that were available to him. In this connection scholars have mostly thought in
terms of written sources, which they have pursued with great zeal. Unfortu-
nately, firm ground has not been reached. Works such as the Persian History of
Charon of Lampsacus or the Lydian History of Xanthus are not firmly enough
dated to make it certain that Herodotus was the borrower. In the scanty
remains there is no striking resemblance, and consequently we must treat the
statement of Ephorus (ap. Ath. 12. s1se), that Xanthus was Herodotus’ basic
authority, with considerable caution. It is quite wrong to try to make Dionysius
of Miletus the prime source for Herodotus and thus the real father of history.
We know very little about his work, and what we do know contradicts the
supposition that Herodotus was particularly in his debt. Thus the only prede-
cessor established with certainty is still Hecataeus, and we see at once that
Herodotus was keenly critical of him. He rejects very decidedly his explanation
of the flooding of the Nile (2. 21) and his theory that the Nile flowed from the
outer ocean: the latter he dismisses to the realm of fable. His ridicule of people
who draw schematized diagrams of the earth and call them maps is aimed
especially at Hecataeus. In these two places he refrains from giving the name,
but he feels free to do so where he is not attacking the views expressed. Among
such passages is 6. 137: an important example of Herodotus’ respect for the
truth. The Pelasgians were driven out of Attica by the Athenians, and he
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
enquires whether this expulsion was just or unjust. He stresses that he can do no
more than relate the tradition, which here is twofold. Hecataeus thought that
justice was on the Pelasgian side: the opposite view is held by the ‘the Athenians
themselves’. This is an essential point in discussing Herodotus’ use of sources.
Who are the “Athenians themselves’ in this context? Is Herodotus using a
written Athenian source, or did he hear an account orally during his stay in the
city? This passage is typical of a number of others, where no certain result can
be obtained.
We should not assume that the written sources available to Herodotus were
as scanty as our knowledge of them. We have to think of him as using various
collections, particularly collections of oracles, which he valued highly and
quoted with corresponding care. There is occasional use of documents in the
modern sense. The account of Persian satrapies in the third book can only come
from an official list. Inscriptions are occasionally quoted: the best example is
the use in 8. 82 of the inscription on the tripod dedicated at Delphi by those
who took part in the fight for freedom.!
All that we have said about Herodotus’ sources cannot conceal the fact that
he himself regarded personal enquiry as the best means of finding out the truth.
He does not mean enquiry into the books of his predecessors, but his own
enquiries carried out as far as possible on the actual site. What is very important
is his own assessment of his critical tools and of the degree of certainty that he
can attain, expressed in 2. 99, where he changes his sources. In the preceding
chapters he has given us the information about Egypt and her people which he
acquired while living there. Up till now, he says, he has spoken from his own
inspection (dys), his own judgment (yvaun) and his own enquiries (¢oropin):
from now on he can only give Egyptian tradition (Adyoc) as it was told to him.
There follows an outline of Egyptian history beginning with Min. Thus
Herodotus clearly differentiates between the results of his own enquiries and
what he repeats as pure tradition. It is obvious that the order reflects the relative
value; and the same holds good for the three components of the first group.
Personal inspection is the most reliable source; then comes information drawn
from the questioning of witnesses. There is another important feature. Only
in the first group — inspection, judgment, enquiries — does personal judgment
appear as a decisive element. One’s own eyes and the testimony of others
provide the material which cannot give useful results for the ‘exposition of one’s
researches’ until they have been critically evaluated. Such evaluation is scarcely
possible when dealing with tradition: it must simply be accepted as it stands.
This is what Herodotus explicitly does in the instance already quoted con-
cerning the expulsion of the Pelasgi. Herodotus did not always have an easy
task in prosecuting his enquiries, especially in foreign countries where he had to
rely on an interpreter. It is very likely that a good deal of uncertainty came from
this source, and much of the information that he received was probably made
up on the prompting of his questions. He tells us himself in one passage how the
Egyptians tried to dupe him. In Sais he was told a grim story about some statues
1 Cf. SCHMID, 2, 629, 4.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

which were said to commemorate some women whose hands had been cut off.
But he observed that the hands had in fact fallen off in the passage of time and
were still lying in front of the statues: consequently he rejected the whole story.
Despite all difficulties, Herodotus acquired a great deal of useful knowledge on
his journeys, and passed it on to us. We may cite in this connection the researches
of K. Meuli,! which have surprisingly confirmed the historical value of some
important statements in the Scythian logos.
Herodotus knew very well that by admitting tradition which he was unable
to check he was bringing an element of uncertainty into his work. He roundly
declares in 7. 152 — dealing with reports not wholly favourable to the Argives:
‘I am obliged to report what people say, but 1 feel no obligation to believe it
always. This holds good for my work as a whole.’ But he is not always content
with a relata refero. If he cannot select in the tradition what really happened, he
can at least apply his scepticism to what seems unlikely. In this connection his
attitude towards myth is very significant: he takes up an intermediate position
which we shall find in other fields also.
We should first notice the very decided manner in which at the outset he
excludes the epic world from his purview. He refuses to commit himself on the
truth or falsehood of the various tales of the carrying off of women, and
stresses that he can start to give historically sound information. There is also a
formal distinction, in that the part on ancient history is preceded and followed
by the reference to Persian tradition. This reference has to be taken seriously:
Karl Reinhardt? has shown how much Herodotus is indebted to Persian tales
from palace or harem both in the themes and in the intellectual attitudes of his
work.
Herodotus is moving in a different world from that of Thucydides: he comes
face to face with myth at every turn. His manner of dealing with it is not con-
sistent. He does not rationalize it throughout, nor is he a thoroughgoing sceptic:
yet at the same time he does not swallow the mythical tradition whole, and he
is always ready with a critical objection. Between these limits his treatment
constantly varies. The pretty story of the ugly duckling that received the
blessing of Helen in her shrine and grew up to be the most beautiful woman in
Sparta is given by Herodotus (6. 61) just as a current story, without any criti-
cism. On the other hand he dismisses as nonsense the story (2. 45) of the
Egyptians who sought to sacrifice Heracles. In the first place human sacrifice
was forbidden in Egypt: in the second, how could Heracles, for all his strength,
kill so many thousands? He does indeed add immediately that he hopes gods
and heroes will not take his words amiss. This is one indication of the deep
piety that underlay his ready criticism: his declaration (2. 65), that he particu-
larly wishes to avoid any discussion of religion, is another.
Sometimes he suspends judgment, as when he tells us how the Athenians
called on Boreas to help them. He is not able to say whether the north wind did
“Scythica.’ Herm. 70, 1935, 121.
2 “Herodots Persergeschichten.’ Von Werken und Formen. Godesberg 1948, 163; now in
Vermdachtnis der Antike. Gottingen 1960, 133. W. BURKERT, Gyimn. 67, 1960, 549, is sceptical.
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destroy the Persian fleet for this reason; but it is Athenian tradition anyway.
It is sometimes interesting to see how he makes an old myth of the gods come
to terms with a rational and natural explanation. The gorge of the Peneus is
obviously the result of an earthquake. But at the same time one might indeed
say that it was the work of Poseidon, since he is taken to be the god responsible
for earthquakes (7. 129). Sometimes the supernatural rubs shoulders with
rationalistic interpretation, without any reconciliation. The seven Persian nobles
had agreed to settle which should be king when they took horse in the morning.
He whose horse should first whinny to greet the dawn was to be king. Darius’
cunning squire assured his master’s victory by a stratagem, and the whinnying
of the horse is thus naturally explained. But at the same time there is thunder and
lightning from a cloudless sky.
What we have said about myth applies to Herodotus’ methods in general.
We cannot deny him critical powers: he displays them in many passages, and
we recall that we spoke of him above as the first to give critical treatment to the
epic cycle. But it is a critical method which applies itself to individual features;
it does not go to the heart of the matter.
To say how far Herodotus was an historian we must first be sure what we
mean by the term. Nowadays philosophy! has given us the conception of a
science of history that may be called an exact science, and which wears a very
different aspect from historiography based on ancient models. We demand of
it that, when faced with fragmentary materials, it should have the courage of
resignation, and should not deploy the resources of art to make a pleasing
picture. It should not resemble an historical film-set, rather a ruined city with a
few broken walls.
Herodotus certainly did not write history in this sense. Indeed the pater
historiae can rather be taken as one of the reasons why western historiography
did not content itself with inventories of remains. If we refrain from demanding
its adherence to a set of standards outside itself, and consider it by itself as an
intellectual entity, we can see that it is primarily aimed throughout at the
establishment of factual truth, while at the same time it tries to understand and
to point to the individual as a key to the universal.” This was the attitude of mind
with which Herodotus wrote, and in this sense there is every reason to reckon
him as the first name in European historiography.
The unity of his work must be considered first from the point of view of its
contents: we can then consider whether it has an intellectual unity.
The introductory sentence refers to the conflict between Europe and Asia,
which reached its climax (and, in Herodotus’ eyes, its conclusion) in the Persian
wars, as being the central theme. The work is not an assemblage of anecdote and
ethnography about a loosely strung narrative, nor does it aim to give a general
picture of the world: its primary object is to tell of the war in which Greece
defended herself against the Persian menace. There are two important inferences
to be made here. First, we see how highly freedom is rated in Herodotus’
1 y. KRAFT, ‘Geschichtsforschung als exakte Wissenschaft’. Anz. Oest. Ak. 1955, 239.
2 Cf. K. v. FRITZ, Philosophia naturalis 2, 1952, 217.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

scheme of values.! It is sharply contrasted with oriental systems as being the

Greek way of life, the only one which allows individual and community to
attain their full spiritual development (7. 135). That such liberty is only possible
under the rule of law emerges clearly in the conversation between Xerxes and
Demaratus at the parade (7. 104) where Sparta is taken as an example.
Secondly, given the theme of the work and Herodotus’ personal relations
with the city, it was inevitable that Athens should play a leading part in the
narrative. He praises the Athenian contribution as having been decisive — a
passage (7. 139)? which must have been written when there was obvious
resentment of Athenian power-politics among many Greek cities. Since Eduard
Meyer Herodotus’ bias towards Athens has been much over-stressed: sometimes
it has been seen as a tendency that dominates the work. This is overdone: what
he says about Athens is much better assigned to a desire to reach a true assess-
ment than to partisan spirit pure and simple.*
The individual parts of the work are subordinated to the leading theme by
the device of adding the long ethnographical digressions where the peoples in
question first came into contact with the expansion of Persia. This latter, of
course, is immediately relevant to the main theme, and so the digressions are
significantly linked with it. But we should be mistaking the archaic character
of the work if we tried to tie every individual section firmly in to the basic
narrative. In his Ionian fashion Herodotus has added a good deal out of pure
pleasure in telling a story. He himself says that additions (7poc@7K«av) are in the
very nature of his work; he describes a section as being an insertion (7. 171
mapevOrxn); and he often (e.g. 4. 82) calls himself back to the main theme. All
this shows that he is sure enough of his route, but will not deny himself the
pleasure of picking flowers at the roadside.
From our synopsis of the contents it is easy to see that the historical subject
does not impose a rigid discipline on the work as a whole, but that it decisively
influences its composition. The last three books, full of great and decisive events,
are noticeably tighter in construction than the first six. Digressions are much
shorter and fewer. In this connection it is striking that some peculiar customs
of Halus are described in the form of a report to Xerxes (7. 197). If we take a
general view of the composition, we see an exposition on the most generous
scale, into which Herodotus has packed an amazing mixture of information,
followed by a narrative which becomes more concentrated as the work pro-
gresses, until in the last three books he tells all the decisive events, not without
harking back a good deal, but substantially as a complete narrative. We made
the acquaintance of this kind of composition in Aeschylus: the first half of the
Agamemnon, with its great choral odes, is followed by the later section in which
the dramatic events are more closely packed. This again is an archaic feature.
Now that we have seen the loose but unmistakable order in which the
individual elements — ethnography, romance and history — appear in Herodotus,
" M. POHLENZ, Griech. Freiheit. Leipz. 1955, 17.
2 On this and other passages such as 8, 143 f.: H. KLEINKNECHT, ‘Herodot und Athen’.
Herm. 75, 1940, 241. 3 Cf, H. STRASBURGER (pv. p. 315, n. i):
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

we can consider a view which seeks to bring them within the scope of an
evolutionary theory. In his article on Herodotus (330) Jacoby propounds the
theory that the great ethnographical logoi were originally independent works
and date back to a time when Herodotus was a traveller interested in men and
manners, not yet an historian. There is no convincing proof that the logoi once
had a separate existence, indeed it is scarcely even probable. But the closer-knit
structure and the concentration on historical essentials which we sce in the later
books may very well represent a later level in Herodotus’ creative activity.
Thus to some extent we can trace a development in his work.!
What gives its inner unity to the work is that everything which Herodotus
relates is coloured with his profound conviction that the course of events is
ruled by fate. He nowhere asserts this as a doctrine, but it finds expression both
in individual episodes and in the treatment as a whole. Everything that happens
is ordained, and cannot happen otherwise — that is Herodotus’ firm belief, and
we are twice told? that suffering haunts a man ineluctably and takes one or
another occasion to seize upon him. This conviction forms the background to
the whole work, although it never attains such rigid dogmatism as to lessen the
importance of human decisions or the burden of human responsibility. This also
is an archaic feature: we can trace back to Homer the notion that everything
that happens, whether in the divine or the human world, takes its impetus and
direction from this power. The various elements in the belief cannot be ration-
ally sorted out. At the beginning of the seventh book, in the long and highly
wrought passage where Xerxes decides on war, we find a combination of these
two realms of motivation which reminds us of Aeschylus. His own ambition
drives Xerxes to take arms, but the warning voices might have spoken louder
if the gods had not sent a vision in a dream which pushed the wavering monarch
to the fatal decision.
This belief in predestination is connected with the other belief in signs and
prophecies by which fate is declared. This explains the large part which oracles
play in Herodotus: they are firmly rooted in his conception of the world.3 His
kinsman, the poet Panyassis, is described in Suidas as an interpreter of signs, and
thus Herodotus would have been very early acquainted with such things.
The irony which displays itself so powerfully in the tragedies of Sophocles is
to be seen also in the contrast which we find in Herodotus between the certainty
with which divine oracles reach their fulfilment and the vain reasoning and
planning of men who try to elude them. The story of Croesus and Adrastus
and that of Astyages are striking examples. If ever the individual knows what
' kK. LATTE, ‘Die Anfange der griechischen Geschichtsschreibung’ in Entretiens
sur l’antiquité.
class. 4. VAND@UVRES-GENEVE 1956, 3, also assumes a spiritual development by which H,
under Athenian influence, moved from pure pleasure in the detail and reality of the logoi
to the intellectual mastering of the past. However that may be, H.’s work can be seen as a
unity embracing diverse elements, particularly the digressions. This view is insisted upon
by H. ERBSE, ‘Tradition und Form im Werke Herodots’. Gymn. 68, 1961, 239.
ee 82 DOL, Cle 5-0999.05 24
3 R. CRAHAY, La Littérature oraculaire chez Hérodote. Paris 1956, goes rather too far in
assuming forgeries and in minimizing the political influence of Delphi.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

is coming, his situation becomes deeply tragic, as it did for the Persian in the
banqueting scene before Plataeae (9. 16): “The worst sorrow for a man is to
have knowledge of many things and power over none’,
Fate for Herodotus is not a blind force, but one determined by the will of
heaven. His pantheon is not much like Homer’s. The god most often mentioned
is Apollo: this is linked with the great importance of oracles, particularly the
Delphic oracle. For the rest, there are some passages, particularly in the Egyptian
logos (2. 3 and 49 ff.), which make one think that he believed in a basic know-
ledge of the power and working ofthe gods which was common to all humanity
and independent of individual titles and cults. His view of the Greek pantheon
as a relatively recent creation by Homer and Hesiod, incorporating many
Egyptian elements, is of apiece with the impressions which he received from
the age-old cults of Egypt and the tales of her priests. The influence of Ionian
thought and the results of his researches combined to make him speak by
preference of God and the divine without any differentiation of person.'
This god or divinity works through fate in a particular way, which here and
there in the narrative is expressly characterized. Evidently Herodotus took ideas
which were deeply rooted in Greek thought and raised them to a level at which
they served to interpret history. Sometimes the sequence of events seems to be
morally determined: sin is followed by expiation. The most striking example is
the story of Glaucus (6. 86), whose whole family died out because he asked the
Delphic god whether a man might keep for himself a thing entrusted to him.
Herodotus often raises the question, Who was first in the wrong? But such
examples only give a partial notion of the operation of the divine will, which is
not always determined by moral notions in our sense. According to the very
characteristic story of Solon (1. 34) it appears that Croesus drew nemesis down
upon himself from God, apparently by considering himself as the most fortu-
nate of men. Nemesis must here be taken in its basic meaning of ‘blame’,
‘reproach’, and this is the quality of the divine power which appears most
strongly in Herodotus. Anything that goes beyond measure, anything that
threatens the norms of this world incurs the blame of the gods and thus certain
destruction. The story of Polycrates is an example. The theme also recurs where
Themistocles, in a very important passage (8. 109), expresses Herodotus’ own
pious conviction that not men, but gods and heroes wrought the salvation of
Hellas: the gods grudged (e$4¢évncav) sole rule over Europe and Asia to a single
man, one who burned temples, destroyed images and had the sea fogged and
shackled. One immediately sees the kinship with the significant speech of Darius
in the Persae of Aeschylus (747). The association here of the ‘grudge’ which the
gods bear towards excessive power and the punishment of moral guilt is character-
istic of Herodotus. The scene with Solon in the first book carries great weight
in this connection. The Athenian sage speaks (1. 32) of the divine displeasure
and the destruction which is always at hand when fortune seems assured.
' G. FRANGOIS, Le Polythéisme et Vemploi au singulier des mots 06s, Saiuwy. Bibl. de la Fac.
de Philos. et Lettres Liége 147. Paris 1957, 201. w. POTSCHER, ‘Gotter und Gottheit bei
Herodot’. Wien. Stud. 71, 1958, s.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

The central importance of moderation leads to a notion of compensation in

human acts and destinies, which is one of the leading ideas of the work. Thus
Oroetes has to pay for the treatment he accorded to Polycrates (3. 126 ff.), and
Cleomenes atones for his behaviour towards Damaratus: here Herodotus
expressly gives this as his interpretation (6. 84).! In history he sees the same
processes that Anaximander saw in the cosmos —a mutual atonement of elements
in their coming-to-be and in their passing away.
Herodotus was contemporary with the sophists, but the attempts to find
traces in him of influence from any individual sophist have led to no certain
result.2 What is important is that in his attitude towards tradition he is wholly
opposed to them. This comes to light very well in a story in the third book (38).
Darius asks some Greeks, who burn their dead, and some members of an Indian
tribe who eat theirs, how much they would each have to be paid to do what the
others do. A horrified refusal is the answer of both. Herodotus, however, does
not conclude, as the sophists would, that law and custom are purely relative. On
the contrary, he takes the story as illustrating the compelling force of custom, and
he ends the story by quoting Pindar’s saying that custom is the ruler of all.
The style and language of the work are a faithful reflection of its richness and
variety in content. This very quality (zov«vAda) was particularly remarked upon
by ancient literary critics.
Herodotus sometimes tips out his information untidily and speaks in a tone
whose unpretentiousness points clearly to its origin in popular story telling.
But short sentences in parataxis are not his universal form of expression. We
often find long periods with many subordinate clauses preceding or following
the main clause.+ The essential feature is that the individual elements are thus
put together without producing that ‘toothed’ style in which the artificially
constructed period emphasizes the logical relationship of the component parts.
With this bricklaying type of construction Herodotus sometimes achieves remark-
ably effective scenes: no reader is likely to forget the sentence which ends the
story of Atys and Adrastus (1. 45). But a comfortable expansiveness is the feeling
more usually conveyed by this style of narration. Sometimes his weight of in-
formation is too much for the sentence structure: the passage on the sources of
the Maeander (7. 26), with its pile of relative clauses, is a frightful example.
An important part is played by speeches, which do not, like those of Thucy-
dides, bring out the unseen forces at work in a situation, nor yet serve to
delineate individual character. Rather, they underline universal human patterns
of behaviour and bring out points of view that transcend the purely personal
and local. The warning friend5 is a recurrent figure, and the admonitory speech

1 Other exx. in SCHMID 2. $71. 5.

2 w. NESTLE, Vom Mythos zum Logos. Stuttgart 1940, 509.
3 Dion. Hal. ad Pomp. 3. 11; de Thuc. 23.
4 F. ZUCKER effectively characterizes this type of sentence structure in his study ‘Der Stil
des Gorgias nach seiner inneren Form’. Sitzb. Ak. Berl. Kl.f.Sprachen. Lit. u. Kunst. 1956/1,
10. He suspects that ancient literary critics classed it with the Aegis eipowévy of which
Herodotus is cited as the representative (Arist. Rhet. 1409 a 27).
5 H. BISCHOFF, Der Warner bei Herodot. Diss. Marburg 1932.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

is an important and frequent feature in the work. Sometimes it is cast in the

form of an illustrative parable (e.g. 6. 86). It is an indication of the broad area
in which Herodotus draws for his component elements that in reading these
stories we are as likely to be reminded of the tale of Meleager in Homer as of
the popular moralizing fable (alvos). The same may be said of the speeches in
general: they are akin at once to the epic and the romance.
Dialogue is not less effective than single speeches in setting the tone of some
sections. It may range from long speeches on each side to rapid altercation. In
the manner of his narrative Herodotus shows a particular kinship with epic,
and the ancients themselves! were led by numerous observations tending that
way to describe him as ‘exceedingly Homeric’ (épypixestaros). At the same
time there are features already noted which speak of the influence exerted on him
by contemporary drama. When a papyrus came to light with the remains of a
seemingly Hellenistic tragedy of Gyges,? modelled on Herodotus, it was possible
to think that the boot might be on the other foot and that Herodotus’ prose
narrative might have been based on a precursor of that drama. A specially
striking example is the tragic story of Adrastus, in which scene follows scene
and dialogue dialogue, and there is even an agon-scene between father and son.
But in his historical narrative and particularly in the decisive episodes Herodotus
always aims at dramatic concentration, as we saw very clearly in the description
of Salamis.3
It was observed in antiquity* that the dialect of Herodotus is mixed when
compared with the pure Ionic of Hecataeus. This impression is given mostly by
the admixture of poetic, especially Homeric, elements.’ When prose first set up
in rivalry to poetry, it was natural that many elements of poetic vocabulary
were borrowed. Herodotus of course was particularly close to the spirit of epic,
and he was receptive to many other influences as well. His long sojourn in
Attica also may well have left its traces in his language.®
In forming a judgment of Herodotus’ dialect we find that the transmission
poses a special problem. Very probably the schoolmasters were responsible for
thrusting false archaisms into the text — for example, uncontracted forms where
we should expect contracted. Contrariwise, late vulgarisms crept into the text.
A violent normalizing of Herodotus’ language on the basis of the few Ionic
inscriptions of his time is out of the question, and the problem of its original
form can never be fully solved.

Herodotus kept his high reputation down to very late antiquity. His country-
man Dionysius of Halicarnassus exemplifies the value set on him by early
1 De Sublim. 13, 3. 27 Hering 81910535) le
3 Cf. w. MARG, ‘Herodot tiber die Folgen von Salamis’. Herm. 81, 1953, 196.
* Hermogenes, Hepi (8. 423. 25 Sp. 411. 12 Rabe.
5 See M. LEUMANN, Homerische Worter. Basel 1950, 303.
® Atticisms in Schmid 2. 594. 8.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Imperial literary theorists. In addition to the passages already mentioned we
may cite his comparison of Herodotus and Thucydides (de imit. 207 Us.-Rad.),
from which Herodotus comes off well. We find here the notable judgment that
Thucydides’ strength lies in pathos, that of Herodotus in ethos. It was a rather
dubious compliment to him when in the course of the Ionic revival he was
credited with one of the biographies of Homer which have come down to us.
Naturally he did not escape criticism, and Thucydides has several passages of
polemic against his predecessor, although he does not name him. Quite under-
standably several Greek cities were not best pleased with the figure they cut in
Herodotus, and Plutarch’s pamphlet Examples of Prejudice in Herodotus (Ilept ris
“Hpoddrov kakxonfeias), animated by Bocotian local patriotism, gives us a speci-
men of such polemical literature.
The most striking proof of Herodotus’ reputation is that the Alexandrians
took him under their protection - an honour which they paid to very few
writers of prose. We have a papyrus (nr. 357 P.) containing scraps of a com-
mentary which Aristarchus wrote on him. Presumably then the same scholar
issued an edition of the text. The division into nine books most probably took
place at Alexandria: it is first attested in Diodorus (11. 37, 6). We cannot say
whether the names of the Muses, which appear at the heads of the books, were
attached to them from the beginning or not. They appear as early as Lucian
(Herodot. 1). We know that commentaries were written on Herodotus in the
first century of our era by Hero and Irenaeus, two savants of the Alexandrian
school. Abridged editions were soon in circulation: one such was made by
Theopompus (F Gr Hist 115 F 1-4). A papyrus leaf from c. A.D. 350 shows that
the excursuses were sometimes left out.
The division of the manuscripts into two groups, proposed by H. STEIN in his
fundamental edition of 1869/72, has held its ground. There is a Florentine family
and a younger Roman family: the latter shows traces of normalization and is
suspected in places of interpolation more than the Florentine. A synopsis of the
extant MSS. and their relative values is given by a. CoLonna, ‘De Herodoti
memoria’. Boll. del Comitato per la preparazione della ediz. nazion. dei Classici
greci e latini. N.S. fasc. 1, 1945, 41. In another article (‘Note alla trad. mano-
scritta di Erodoto’. ibid. fasc. 2, 1953, 13) Colonna opposes the theory of B.
HEMMERDINGER (‘Eliminatio codicum Herodoteorum’. Class. Quart. N.S. 2,
1952, 97) that within the Roman group certain MSS. (URSV) are mediately
derived from Vat. Gr. 2369 saec. XI (D) and can therefore be discounted. The
transmission has been re-examined by G. B. ALBERTI, ‘Note ad alcuni mano-
scritti di Erodoto’ Maia 12, 1960, 331.
The 21 papyri known to us are discussed by A. H. R. E. PAAP, De Herodoti
reliquiis in papyris et membranis Aegyptiis servatis. Leyden 1948. Significant
errors common to some papyri and the MSS. point to an ultimately common
origin. But on the other hand we find papyri of the first three centuries A.D.
which have true readings against all the MSS., so that the common archetype of
the others is to be dated after this time. A short account of the tradition is given
by UNTERSTEINER (see below).
327
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Editions: H. R. DEITSCH—H. KALLENBERG, 2 vols., 2nd ed. Leipz. 1924-33

(needs to be brought up to date). c. HUDE, 2 vols. Oxf. 1927. PH. E. LEGRAND,
ir vols. (intro., L-IX, index). Coll. des Un. de Fr. 1932-54 (often repr.). A. D.
GODLEY, 4 vols., Loeb Library. L. ANNIBALETTO, Le storie. 2 vols. Milan 1956.
The seventh book with critical study and commentary: G. AMMENDOLA, Turin
1956. Selection with notes by M. 1. FINLEY, The Essence of Herodotus, Thuc. Xen.
Polyb. Lond. 1959. With commentary: C. W. W. HOW-J. WELLS, 2 vols. 2nd ed.
Oxf. 1928 (historical). B. A. VAN GRONINGEN, repr. Leyden 1949-59 (excellent
school edition). Lexicon: J. E. POWELL, Cambr. 1938 (repr. 1960). Translations:
J. E. POWELL, Oxford Library of Translations, 2 vols. 1949 (with account of
previous translations into English). TH. BRAUN, Leipzig 1927; Wiesbaden 1958.
AUG. IZZO D’ACCINNI, Florence 1951. Language: M. UNTERSTEINER, La lingua
di Erodoto. Bari 1949. CARLA SCHICK, Appunti per una storia della prosa greca 3:
la lingua di Erodoto. Acc. dei Lincei. Memorie Cl. sc. mor. stor. fil. 8/7/7, 1956, 344.
H. FRANKEL, Wege und Formen friihgr. Denkens. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 65. 83.
Light is thrown on the question ‘Ionisms or epic elements?’ in VITTORE
PISANT’s excellent Storia della lingua greca in Encicl. Class. 2/5/1, Turin 1960, 100.
(c. FAVRE, Thesaurus verborum quae in titulis Ionicis leguntur cum Herodoteo
sermone comparatus. Heidelb. 1914, is still useful here.) He gives good syntactical
examples and rightly protests against the normalizing of the text to agree with
the inscriptions. HAIIM B. ROSEN, Eine Laut- und Formenlehre der herodotischen
Sprachform. Heidelberg 1961. Monographs: F. JACOBY, RE S2 1913, 205 (now
reprinted with others of his Pauly articles as Griechische Historiker. Stuttg. 1956).
M. POHLENZ, Herodot. Leipz. 1937. J. E. POWELL, The History of Herodotus.
Cambr. 1939. J. L. MyRES, Herodotus: Father of History. Oxf. 1953. Discussions:
O. REGENBOGEN, ‘H. und sein Werk’. Die Antike 6, 1930, 202 (now in his
Kleine Schriften. Munich 1961, $7). F. HELLMAN, ‘Herodot’. Das neue Bild der
Antike I. Leipz. 1942, 237 (with bibliog.). a. MADDALENA, ‘L’ umano e il
divino in Erodoto’. Studi di filos. greca. Bari 1950, $7. H. STRASBURGER, ‘Hero-
dots Zeitrechnung’. Historia 5, 1956, 129. H. R. IMMERWAHR, ‘Aspects o
Historical Causation in H.’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 87, 1956, 241; id., ‘Ergon:
History as a Monument in H. and Thuc.’. Am. Journ. Phil. 81, 1960, 261. M.
MILLER, ‘The earlier Persian Dates in H.’. Klio 37, 1959, 29. H. T. WALLINGA,
‘The structure of Herod. 2. 99-142’. Mnem. s. 4, 12, 1959, 204. T. SINKO,
‘L’Historiosophie dans le prologue et l’épilogue de I’euvre d’H. d’Halicarnasse’.
Eos $0, 1959/60, 3. A. E. RAUBITSCHEK, ‘H. and the Inscriptions’. Univ. of Lond.
Bull. of the Inst. of Class. Stud. 8, 1961, 59. A work by K. raTTE in Entretiens
sur D’antiquité classique, v. supra. P. 323, n. 1. Detailed bibliography in Fifty Years
of Classical Scholarship. Oxf. 1954, 178, and see now Herodot. Eine Auswahl aus
der neueren Forschung, hrsg. von W. Marg. Munich 1962.

6 OTHER HISTORIANS
Herodotus’ work is built on Ionian and archaic foundations, but from these
beginnings he advanced to new realms of historical thought which created the
328
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
assumptions that underlay later development. Of his successors we can form a
clear enough idea to know that they represent the continuation of the old
Ionian tradition up to and beyond the turn of the century. Some of them
cannot be dated certainly, but the racial origin, as one would expect, is in most
cases Ionian.
The remains of these writers show us how far the attitude towards mythology
was a central question of the age. The movement began in philosophy, and
Xenophanes — not of course alone — is a striking example of the radicalism some-
times shown in facing the great stories of Greek tradition. Among the intellectual
instruments used to tackle the problem were the rationalizing! and the alle-
gorizing approach. The latter, so far as we know, began with Theagenes of
Rhegium, and in this period it was continued by Stesimbrotus of Thasos.? He
wrote a book on Homer and also lectured on the subject. His treatise On Sacred
Offices (Ilept teAer@v) is a piece of Orphic literature, and seems to have dealt
with the sacred stories of the mysteries in the same spirit as with the epics. He
was probably in Athens in the ‘thirties, but he afterwards attacked Athenian
power-politics in his pamphlet On Themistocles, Thucydides and Pericles. This
work, which is shown by a fragment (F. 11) to have been written after 430/29,
was an expression of the deep dissatisfaction of the allies at the hybris of the
Athenian democracy.
In Plato’s Jon (530c) Metrodorus of Lampsacus3} and one Glaucon are
mentioned in the same breath with Stesimbrotus as Homeric exegetes. What
we know of Metrodorus confirms Tatian’s judgment that he showed great
folly in his treatment of Homer. He made the gods and heroes of epic represent
allegorically not merely natural phenomena, but even the parts of the human
body. Xenophon (Symp. 3. 6) mentions the younger Anaximander of Miletus*
together with Stesimbrotus; but he has to be dated a little later - under Arta-
xerxes II (404-358), according to Suidas. His Heroologia included allegorical
interpretation, and with his Explanation of Pythagorean Symbols he inaugurated
a series of books on the remarkable rules of the order, in which a good deal of
popular superstition left its mark.
Allegorical interpretation, which sought a deeper meaning in the tales as they
were told, had its last fling in the nineteenth century, when the myths were
interpreted as symbolizing natural forces; the rationalizing school, which tried
to extract historical facts from fabulous accretions, began with Hecataeus; and
his methods, which placed Cerberus, for example, among early Greek fauna as
a poisonous snake, also found countless imitators.
One of these was Herodorus of Heraclea Pontica,> whose literary work must
be dated in the late fifth century. In addition to his lengthy Story of Heracles
(‘O caf? ‘HpaxaAéa Adyos) we hear of an Argonautica and a Pelopea. The golden

t Cf. weHrtt, Allegorische Deutung Homers. Diss. Basel 1928. F. WIPPRECHT, Die Entwick-
lung der rationalistischen Mythendeutung bei den Griechen. 1, 1902. 2, 1908. F. BUFFIERE, Les
Mythes d’ Homere et la pensée grecque. Paris 1956.
2 F Gr Hist nr. 107.
3 VS 61. 4 F Gr Hist nr. 9. 5 F Gr Hist nr. 31.
329
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

lamb over which Atreus and Thyestes fought was for him a golden image in the
middle of a silver bowl (F. 57). This heavy-handed attempt to secularize and
trivialize a myth is typical of many. But Herodorus also resorted to allegory, if
we are to believe a later compilation. It is, after all, basically credible that he
made Heracles a moral philosopher, scotching the passions with the club of the
spirit, in the age which saw Prodicus’ allegory of the choice of Heracles. But
features like this are rare in Herodorus: he seems rather, judging from what
survives, to have enlivened his explanations of the myths with pieces of Ionian
science and ethnography.
Concerning Simonides of Ceos! - a grandson of the poet, according to
Suidas — all that we can tell from his treatment of the story of Athene and
Iodama (F. 1) is that he was a horse from the same stable. He wrote a work
called Genealogiae in three books, in which we suppose that he imitated the
methods of Hecataeus. He also wrote three books of Discoveries (Eipyjpara).
The tradition that began in Ionia was carried on by an Aeolian who wrote a
great deal and had a wide influence — Hellanicus of Mytilene in Lesbos.? Such
help as the fragments give us in dating him points to the last quarter of the fifth
century. A few scattered indications? show that he was acquainted with Hero-
dotus’ work, but there is nothing to show that he was greatly influenced by
him. The line of tradition seems rather to go back to Hecataeus and to pass
Herodotus by.
Hellanicus is the first of the great scribblers in Greek literature. We know of
twenty-three works that he wrote, most of them in two books each. This is an
important fact. However much Hellanicus may remind us of his Ionian pre-
decessors, his methods were wholly different. Instead of personal travel and
investigation we find now a pilgrimage over other men’s books. This is a
literature which is wholly based on litterae.
Unlike Herodotus, Hellanicus opens his pages wide to myth. In reducing his
material to order his principal tool was genealogy. He reckoned three genera-
tions to a century, which became standard practice. The titles of his works -
probably given by the author himself — resemble those of epic poems, or are
indeed taken from epics: e.g. the Phoronis, in which various Peloponnesian
families were traced back to the supposed first of men, one Phoroneus. In this
work Homer was made a descendant of Orpheus in the tenth generation. Other
works of the same kidney were entitled Atlantis, Asopis, Deucalionea and Troica.
There are instances of rationalization (F. 28 et al.), but it seems to have played
a much smaller part than in Hecataeus. He seems to approach closest to Ionian
ethnography in his works On thefoundings of cities and peoples (Kricets €0vOv Kat
mAewv), On Peoples (epi €6vav) and On the Names of Peoples (E@v@v évopa-
ata). These are probably different titles for the same work. The Founding of Chios
(Xtov «réows) was probably an independent treatise. Ion also wrote a book with
this title. Hellanicus wrote on a subject dear to Herodotus’ heart in the Foreign
t [bid. nr. 8.
2 Ibid. nr. 4. F. JACOBY, Atthis. Oxf. 1949. K. V. FRITZ, Gnom. 22, 1950, 220.
3 Jacoby on F. 166 f.
330
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Customs (BapBapixa vdpipa). To many of these foreigners he devoted separate

books: we hear of Aegyptiaca, Cypriaca, Lydiaca, Persica and Scythica. In addition
to manners and customs, history and mythology found their place in these
books, particularly in those which dealt with regions of Greece, such as the
Aeolica, Lesbiaca, Argolica, Boeotica and Thessalica.
This last group included also the Afthis, in two books, with which the
Aeolian Hellanicus inaugurated a particular genre of Attic historical writings.
The line of Athenian local historians, sometimes called Atthidographers, reaches
from Hellanicus down to Philochorus, who wrote his work of seventeen books
in the third century. For a long time a theory was accepted which Wilamowitz
put forward in his book on Aristotle and Athens — namely that these writings
essentially derived from notes written up in the manner of chronicles by the
exegetae. Jacoby, however, demonstrated in his Atthis that the activity of the
exegetae was confined to ritual observances,! and that in Attica, as elsewhere in
Greece, there is no ground for postulating an annalistic tradition as a precursor
of true historiography. Surviving laws, lists of archons, oral tradition probably
linked with the great families — these are the basic sources of the Afthis so far as
we can now infer them.
Hellanicus constructed, by rather arbitrary methods, a list of Athenian kings,
and he apparently extended the lists of archons backwards far enough to reach
the kingly period. In this he was impelled by the wish to close the gap between
myth and the historical tradition in the modern sense, and to bring the whole
course of events from the beginning into a chronological sequence. This desire
is fairly plain in the Afthis, and we may suppose that a similar notion underlay
his other work.
There is not much in the fragments that can be called scientific history; yet
in one important department Hellanicus took a great step forward. His books
on the Victors at the Carnea (Kapveovixac) and the Priestesses of Hera (‘lépevas ris
“Hpas) undertook the important task of establishing a firm chronological frame-
work for the writing of history, using to this end the records of the Spartan
games and the Argive priestesses. Later, however, reckoning by Olympiads
became normal: Hippias paved the way with his List of Olympic Victors.
Hellanicus is said to have been the teacher of Damastes of Sigeum? who wrote
in the late fifth century a mythographical and genealogical work on the
ancestry of the heroes who fought against Troy. He also wrote on Greek history
and on ethnographical topics. What we should most like to know is something
about the contents of his book On Poets and Sophists (Ilept mounrdv Kat cogu-
orGv). It is impossible to know exactly whom he meant by sophists in this juxta-
position. At all events, the title points to the first beginnings of literary history
in Greek. The same may be said of the treatise written by Glaucus of Rhegium
On the old Poets and Musicians (lept rv apyatwy rount@v Kat povoix@yv), which
was written about the same time.
1 Cf. also J. H. OLIVER, The Athenian Expounders of the Sacred and Ancestral Law. Baltimore
1950, and P. NILSSON, Gesch. d. griech. Religion 1, 2nd ed. Munich 1955, 636.
2 F Gr Hist nor. 5.
331
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Local antiquarianism can be seen already in the genealogical epics. Hellanicus

shows the continuation of such interests in prose. This was the budding of local
history, which afterwards became such a vigorous growth. Representatives in
Ceos and the Argolid were Xenomedes and Demetrius respectively, who may,
however, have lived later than the fifth century.
Just as with poetry, philosophy and medicine, so with the writing of history
the decisive impulse came to western Hellas from the Ionian east. In Suidas we
find Hippys of Rhegium given as the first west Greek historian: he is said to
have written Chronica and Argolica and works on Italian and Sicilian history.
Jacobyt has taken grave exception to Hippys and Myres (the supposed epito-
mator of his Sicelica): he thinks that these are fictional adornments of a work
written in fact about 300 B.c. Ifhe is right, then Antiochus of Syracuse? becomes
the first known historian of Sicily. He was much influenced by Herodotus, and
aimed at supplementing his work where western Hellas was concerned. To this
end he wrote the nine books of his Sicilian History (T@v LuceAuk@v taropia),
which went from the mythical king Cocalus to the peace congress in Gela in
424/23, and a treatise on Italy (Ilepi ItaAias). He probably wrote in the last
quarter of the fifth century.

Gf ASUUEO SOWIE’

The centripetal movement which gained momentum throughout the fifth

century and brought men from all the areas of Greek colonization to Athens,
making her ‘an education for all Greece’ (Thuc. 2. 41), brought it about that
the last and much altered expression of Ionian science took place on Attic soil.
Clazomenae, the Ionian city whose name is nowadays associated with elabo-
rately painted clay sarcophagi, was the birthplace of Anaxagoras, who practised
philosophy in Athens for thirty years. He was the friend of Pericles, and
attracted a good deal of notice, not always sympathetic. It is hard to date the
events ofhis life. The year of his death (428/27) and the Olympiad in which he
was born (500/497) are attested by such a good witness as the chronicle of
Apollodorus F Gr Hist 244 F. 331) but the date of the proceedings against him
for impiety and of his flight to Lampsacus, which afforded him refuge until his
death, cannot be certainly established. He seems to have come to Athens at the
time of Xerxes’ expedition, and this agrees with the statement in the archon-
lists of Demetrius of Phalerum (fr. 150 W.) that he began to study philosophy
at the age of twenty when Callias was archon. Demetrius speaks also of his
thirty years’ sojourn in Athens, which would date his trial about 450. Others,
considering the general situation then, have preferred to put it in Pericles’ last
years, but the trial could quite conceivably have taken place earlier.3
Anaximenes, the last of the Milesian scientists, died only about a generation
before the birth of Anaxagoras, but we find now the Milesian tradition carried
on by a thinker whose most powerful influence was Anaximander. Like Par-
menides, he begins with the maxim that there is neither any coming-to-be out
' In his commentary on F Gr Hist nr. 554. 2 F Gr Hist nr. 555. Atthis 352, 2.
3 A.B. TAYLOR, Class. Quart. 11, 1917, 81.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

of nothing nor any passing away into nothing. Coming-to-be and passing
away he considered simply as the mixing and unmixing of everlasting sub-
stances (B 10. 17. A 43. 45), processes which he depicted as wholly mechanical,
unlike the physiological notion of mixture entertained by the Hippocratics.!
Anaxagoras supposed an original mixture in which all substances and the
qualities associated with them were contained in innumerable tiny particles.
The mutual relation of substance and quality in his world-picture is much
debated, but we can hardly suppose them to have been very sharply distin-
guished in thought.? From this original mixture — a distant cousin of Anaxi-
mander’s apeiron — by processes of decomposition and recomposition individual
things make their appearance. The separation of air and aether seems to have
been the beginning (B 1. 2). The observation that semen ultimately is the origin
of such diverse things as flesh and hair (B ro), and that the same may be said of
food (A 45), led Anaxagoras to the doctrine that even in the individual things
produced by decomposition and recomposition particles of every kind are to
be found at any given time. It is the quantitative superiority of a given sub-
stance that determines the behaviour of individual things, and we recognize
them by the correspondence with a related substance in ourselves. The infini-
tesimal material vehicles of the various qualities were called by Anaxagoras
‘seeds’ (o7éppara): the expression homoeomeria probably was the first devised
by the Aristotelians in their account of his theories.
The indebtedness of this system to Ionian science is undeniable. Yet what is
new is no less important. The power to move and form now no longer resides
in the basic stuff itself, which in the hands of some of the Milesians acquired
almost divine powers, but is a separate immaterial principle. Only nus exists
by itself and unmixed: infinite and subject to nothing, it initiates that whirling
motion which brings all things into being, and its ability to conceive their
separation is at the same time the power to bring that separation about. Nus has
power over all animate beings, and although we have no specific assertion of it,
it seems likely that Anaxagoras conceived the human soul as part of this great
spirit that informs the universe. Its guiding activity extends even to political
society and to the rise of civilization. Its appearance in these connections is a new
philosophical theme of great significance.* In none of the surviving fragments
is Nus referred to as god or as divine. But the adjectives which Anaxagoras
applies to it and the hymn-like strains in which he speaks of it, leave little
doubt that he felt it to be the divine power in the world. Yet his Nus is not pure
spirit: it is only the finest and purest of all substances. This clearly anticipates to
some extent the equally sublime material Logos of the Stoics. At the same time
one may compare, though more remotely, the activities ascribed to the soul-
atoms by Democritus and his followers.

1 w. MURI, Gymn. $7, 1950, 198. 2 F, HEINIMANN, Gnom. 24, 1952, 272.
3 On this important series of problems: H. CHERNISS, Aristotle’s Criticism of Presocratic
Philosophy. Baltimore 1935.
4 4. FRANKEL, Wege und Formen friihgriech. Denkens. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 285.
5 B 12, cf. K. DEICHGRABER, Phil. 88, 1933, 347-
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Anaxagoras was far from going the whole way to a consistent dualistic view
of the world. Socrates in the Phaedo (97 b) professes dissatisfaction with the Nus
of Anaxagoras, and Aristotle (Metaph. 985 a 18) reproaches him with invoking
this power only where he is at a loss to explain things otherwise.
The Athenians could not but be suspicious of aman who set before their eyes
the hitherto unknown spectacle of a life wholly devoted to contemplation. We
do not know of any attack on traditional religion in his book (written in Ionic
and naturally referred to later as epi pdcews); but it was impossible for a man
to conceal his opposition to tradition when he declared the sun to be a red-
hot stone, much larger than the Peloponnese (A 72), and favoured rational ex-
planations of natural phenomena in general. Seeing tradition threatened, the
Athenians reacted with the prosecution which deprived Pericles of his friend.
One of Anaxagoras’ pupils was Archelaus of Miletus (or of Athens: presum-
ably he was a Milesian who moved to Athens). He became associated with
Cimon, for whom he wrote poems (Plut. Cim. 4), and with Sophocles, from
whom we possess one pentameter of an elegy on the philosopher. He was
known in antiquity above all as the teacher of Socrates: Ion of Chios (fr. 11 B 1)
talks of their going to Samos together. In this context we should dearly love to
know more about the alleged inclusion of ethics in Archelaus’ teaching. But
we know no more about this than about his development of Anaxagoras’
theory, in which apparently heat and cold played some part as formative
principles.
Some of the themes of Ionian natural philosophy were rehandled also by
such men as Hippo of Samos and Idaeus of Himera, but none of these followers
achieved real significance apart from Diogenes of Apollonia (either the Cretan
or the Phrygian Apollonia). He also adopted the conceptions of the Milesians
and took up energetically the old doctrine of an original basic substance.
Otherwise he thought it impossible to explain the reciprocal influence and
mixing of the different elements (B 2). His view of the basic substance as being
air marks him as a follower of Anaximenes. On the other hand he took over
and developed the theory of Anaxagoras that a spiritual force was at work in
the forming and continuance of the universe. He thought that this world was
the best of all possible worlds, on the ground that its phenomena like the seasons,
day and night, rain, wind and sunshine are kept in due measure by law (B 3).
To establish and maintain such a law an intellectual power (vdqars) is required:
this Diogenes equates with the air (B 5). Thus this basic substance acquires high
spiritual values, is spoken of as God, and is described in no less exalted strains
than the Nus of Anaxagoras. Diogenes also had a high reputation as a physician.
His importance is in the strong teleological tendency of his thought:! he infers
the divine government of the universe from the order which results from it.
We may suppose that detailed expositions such as we find in the long fragment
(B 6) that deals with the veins of the human body played their part in his teleo-
logical arguments.
Diogenes also seems to have spent a long time in Athens. His influence there
' W. THEILER, Zur Geschichte der teleologischen Naturbetrachtung. Ziirich 1925.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
was particularly strong. Both comic and tragic writers allude to him, especially
Euripides.
In our age we easily tend to look upon the atomic theory in cosmology as a
unique achievement of the Greek genius, surpassing all else that it arrived at in
the natural sciences. But the atomic theory is integral with the general develop-
ment, that is to say, with the context of Ionian science.
We shall always associate atomism with the name of Democritus of Abdera,
the first of a line which led through Epicurus, Lucretius and Gassendi to the
physicists of today.1 He came from the same city as Protagoras — an Ionian
colony in Thrace. On his own statement (B 5) he was young when Anaxagoras
was old, which sets his birth somewhere around 460. In antiquity he was one
of the stock examples of longevity: he was said to have lived a hundred years
or more. However that may be, his lifetime reached far into the fourth century.
He was born about the same time as Socrates, but outlived him by many years.
He was a great traveller, and according to Diodorus (1. 98, 3: doubtfully in
fr. B 299) he spent five years in Egypt studying astronomy. What we know
of his writings shows that his purpose there was very different from that of
Hecataeus or Herodotus. He himself says (B 116) that he came to Athens,
adding that no one knew him. Unlike Anaxagoras and Protagoras, he never
became prominent in the life of the city.
All in all, we could associate the beginnings of atomic theory with a fairly
distinct personality, if only there were not a difficult problem in the way. In
several places Aristotle names Leucippus and Democritus as representatives of
atomism: in one place Leucippus is said to have been a friend, in another the
teacher of Democritus (VS 67 A 6; Az). He was so overshadowed by the wide
range and success of his follower’s writings that his birthplace is unknown;
Abdera, Elea and Miletus are given, but these are palpable guesses. Epicurus
indeed denied that such a philosopher had ever existed (A 2). This may well
have been a joking paradox rather than an historical statement, since, if a
papyrus from Herculaneum has been correctly supplemented and dated (VS
75 A7), the name of Leucippus was fairly familiar to Epicurus. But what makes
it impossible to dispute his importance as a founder of the atomic theory is the
fact that Theophrastus and his pupils ascribed to Leucippus a treatise called The
Great World-Order (Méyas 8vdxoopos) which occurs in the list of Democritus’
writings (VS 68 A 33. B 4b). Another work, On the Mind (Ilept vod), was also
ascribed to him, and no doubt the contact with Anaxagoras’ views on Nus was
of great importance to nascent atomism. If this interpretation of the work is
correct, we have to date it after Anaxagoras, and Leucippus can probably be
put between him and Democritus.
What we know of his teaching accords so closely with that of Democritus
that it is hard to draw a clear distinction between their respective cosmologies.
We ought probably to think of Democritus as the borrower in most cases.
From all the foregoing we conclude that atomism as a physical theory should
be credited to them jointly, without separating its various strands.
1 For a more complete and continuous list see SCHMID §, 347.
a2
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

This theory seeks to explain the world in all its parts as arising from two things:
tiny indivisible particles, called atoms (dropa, sc. népy), and the void in which
they move. The whole universe is made up of infinitesimal particles: this seems
at first to be a variant on the panspermia of Anaxagoras. One cannot exclude
the possibility of influence, but the very name of atom forbids its being con-
fused with the endlessly divisible spermata of Anaxagoras. There are other, even
more important, differences. Unlike Anaxagoras, the atomists thought that the
qualities perceived by our senses were subjective and quite distinct from the
world of the atom — the only true world (VS 68 B 9. 125). They recognized as
real only the shapes of the atoms, which might be greater or smaller, round or
angular, smooth or rough on the surface, and could be grouped together in
different patterns. It has been rightly stressed! that the referring of our sense-
impressions to mathematically expressible magnitudes marks an important step
towards the methods of modern science. We find in fact Aristotle (de Caelo 3.
4. 303 24) making the striking statement that the atomists in their own fashion
referred all natural phenomena to number. Democritus wrote several mathe-
matical treatises: he also wrote a book on Pythagoras and is said to have been
acquainted with various individual Pythagoreans.
The deepest rift between the atomists and Anaxagoras concerned the explana-
tion of that motion which is necessarily involved in the building up and breaking
down of bodies, and consequently in all apparent coming-to-be and passing
away. Nus as the mover was distinguished by Anaxagoras, despite its material
nature, from all other matter, and he made it act upon the latter from outside.
The atomists, on the other hand, posited an eternal whirling movement, not
traceable back to any cause, but associated with the atoms from the very
beginning. In addition there is a kind of upward thrust on the lighter atoms and
a centripetal tendency in the heavier. These, together with the rebound when
atoms strike each other, are the constituent elements of that motion which
produces all changes in the grouping of the unalterable atoms.
We can reckon these atoms, homogeneous in material and only varied in
shape and surface, as a last metamorphosis of the primary material postulated
by the Milesians. In the other direction we can trace a line of connection to the
Eleans. The atoms and void constituted a basically unalterable existent, to which
human knowledge could only have access when the veil of the sensible had been
pierced. The atomists shared with the Eleatics a profound distrust of the senses.
On their theory our perception of things arises from tiny images (e/SwAa)
formed of groups of atoms, which detach themselves from the object and find
their way into the body through minute apertures. But one cannot gain know-
ledge of true being in this way (B 6. 7).? From the fallibility of sense-perception
the Eleatics drew the conclusion that the world thus perceived was to be rejected
as a world of appearances, separated by a deep gulf from the real world. The
atomists reasoned another way. Sense-data, they thought, were the raw
material, in itself admittedly inadequate, from which the reasoning and testing
' B. SNELL, Die Entdeckung des Geistes. 3rd ed. Hamburg 1955, 311 (cf. Eng. ed. p. 238).
2 On ddfis émipvopin : H. LANGERBECK, N. Phil. Unters. 10, 1935.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
intellect could gain a truer knowledge. Thus in his logical treatise Rules of
Thought (Kdvoves B 11) Democritus distinguishes between ‘dark’ (axorin) per-
ception given by the senses and ‘true’ (yvyoin) perception, gained by the under-
standing. The latter begins where the first leaves off. But Democritus did not
stop to consider how fragile the premises are in his epistemology. We find him
often complaining of human ignorance — as for example his dictum about
truth’s lying hidden in the deep (B 117) — and in one passage he brings out
dramatically the fundamental fault. The senses are depicted as saying to the
reason: ‘Poor Reason! You take your information from us, and will you use it
to overthrow us?’ (B 125).
The closed system of the atomists has one decided break in it. The soul is
always explained as being made up of atoms, and the limits of the system are
not exceeded by making these atoms round and therefore highly mobile. But
it is quite inconsistent to ascribe a fiery quality to them (VS A ror-107). Atoms
of this kind are found also in the universe, and they are drawn in out of the air
with the breath. What underlies this whole conception is manifestly the old
idea of the breath-soul, which has become tied up with Heraclitus’ glorification
of fire. In the cosmos atoms of this kind are present in large numbers, but they
exert no mechanical influence on material things. In the body, however, they
form an aggregate of atoms which is dissolved on death. Thus immortality of
the soul is excluded, but in the living organism there is, as it were, a second,
more refined body maintained by the drawing in of new soul-atoms in breath-
ing. This spiritual body performs the most remarkable functions: it is the vehicle
of independent impulses to movement, the vehicle of thought and sense; so
that man, planning and judging, stands alone amidst a material world that is
otherwise inanimate and is moved purely mechanically. In the way in which it
comes to be and passes away this soul is within the framework of the atomistic
cosmology; but it transcends the latter in its spontaneous movement which it
imparts to the body and in those functions which make it approximate to the
soul as conceived in a dualistic system.
The special problems and potentialities of man took a large place in Demo-
critus’ philosophy. He devoted to the subject his Little World Order (Muxpos
Sudxoopos), presumably the counterpart of Leucippus’ treatise. Thus there is
some reason to believe that the psychology is mainly the work of Democritus,
while the essentials of the system, if the tradition (A 28. 34) is true, were already
found in Leucippus.
It was through his psychology that the materialist Democritus developed into
a moralist. In the midst of the treatises that he wrote on such topics we find one
entitled On Cheerfulness (Ilept edOupins), which begins with a warning (B 3)
against the evils of restless activity and shows a kinship with traditional Greek
thought by its praise of moderation. But we also find here for the first time a
new conception of the purpose of human life, before which the old aristocratic
ethics and the ideal of the polis begin to appear rather faded. The individual is
now seen as a world in himself, truly a little cosmos, in which the great duty is
to maintain peace and order. This sounds at once individualistic and utilitarian.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

But it is the picture that matters, not the frame, and we are amazed at the
profound wisdom of the ethical notions, far ahead of their time, which grew on
this soil. What we possess is a wealth of aphorisms, mainly in Stobaeus (B 169-
217) and in a collection going under the name of Democrates (B 35-115), which
seem like a continuation of the old literature of hypothecae. Yet the larger
fragments forbid us to suppose that Democritus wrote in an endless sequence of
detached aphorisms; and at the same time the attempts to construct a consistent
ethical system out of what survives have been unsuccessful. It must be confessed
that we have no means of knowing what Democritus’ manner of composition
was. This makes his individual utterances all the more impressive. To be
ashamed of oneself he holds to be a corrective (B 84); it is the will, not the
execution, that matters (B 62. 68: one remembers Herodotus’ story of Glaucus);
he speaks of regret at the preservation oflife by dishonourable expedients (B 43),
and we find also the opinion that Plato repeats in the Gorgias, that it is better to
suffer injustice than to practise it (B 45). Human happiness he considers as the
total of all pleasurable feelings: not just the vulgar pleasures, but pleasure in the
beautiful (B 207). We are startled to hear the materialist saying (B 189) that
the man who finds his pleasure elsewhere than in mortal things will achieve
the highest happiness. Here we catch sight of the new ideal of a life wholly
given up to intellectual work. This is truly the voice of the man who is reputed
to have said that to find out the cause of any one thing was worth more to him
than the whole kingdom of the Persians."
Democritus’ ethics are founded on understanding as far as men can attain it,
and in consequence education takes a prominent place in his thought. We can
again see new ground being broken when he says (B 242) that more men
become virtuous through training than through native qualities. This contrasts
with the unqualified enthusiasm for physis that we found still vigorous in the
Philoctetes of Sophocles as an inheritance from aristocratic ethics.
Democritus’ call to a moral life did not rest upon threats of punishment here-
after. Rather, in such books as his On Hell (Ilepi t@v ev“ Avdov) he strove to re-
move these terrors from the human soul. Nor did he base it on any moral law laid
down by the gods. How far there were gods in his cosmos and what they did
there is hard to say. In one passage (B 175) the gods are plainly spoken of as the
providers of all that is good to men; but we do not know the context. Then
again (B 166) we hear of great and scarcely approachable images (e/SwAa) which
come near to man to give knowledge of the future and awaken in him the
notion of the divine. Cicero was probably right when he complained of Demo-
critus’ lack of clarity in this department (de Nat. Deor. 1. 29; 120). We may
venture to interpret it as the expression of an antinomy which several times
threatens the consistency and unity of his atomistic cosmology.
Where Democritus found room for universal binding values in this cosmo-
logy, or how he accounted for them, is impossible to say. But we can confidently
assume that he did recognize such values and constructed his ethics upon them.
We saw him above (B 125) explaining such notions as colour, sweetness and
™ B 118. A like view is expressed by Socrates in Plat. Euthyd. 274.
338
 THE FLOWERING OF THES GREEK CITY STATE

bitterness as purely conventional expressions, while in reality there was nothing

but atoms and void; but this sceptical attitude towards sense-data cannot have
been carried over into his ethics. On the contrary, far from espousing relativism
in morals, he vigorously opposed it. A passage in Plutarch In Colotem (4 p.
1108 F=156 B) is very significant here. The writer defends Democritus against
the charge of having thrown human life into disorder by his doctrine that
nothing really possesses more of any one quality than of any other. Quite the
reverse, says Plutarch: in several persuasive passages Democritus has spoken
against Protagoras for holding such a doctrine. There is no explicit reference
here to ethics, although such an application seems very likely: what puts the
matter beyond doubt is a sentence (B 69) which we find among the sayings of
Democrates:' The same things are good and true for all men; but different things
please different men.
The literary activity of Democritus extended to every field of human ac-
tivity. In the Mexpos dudkoopos he expressed views on the evolution of mankind
from a primitive condition which recur in similar form in Protagoras.? In the
debate over the origin of speech he took the side of those who considered it not
as a natural endowment (dvors) but as a result of human ordinance (@éo1s). He
took an interest also in the arts, in poetry above all, and in his treatise on Homer
he studied the linguistic usages in a way that makes him an early forerunner of
Homeric philology.
Our review of the content and direction of Democritus’ researches can give
no idea of the enormous extent of his literary work, which finds no parallel in
the older philosophers. We have a catalogue of his writings which was prepared
by the Pythagorean Thrasyllus (Tiberius’ court astronomer) on the basis of
Alexandrian work (A 33). He classified the works into thirteen tetralogies,
divided according to subject matter into five groups: works on ethics, physics,
mathematics, music and technical treatises. He left out of his tetralogies nine
works, of which eight, characteristically of Democritus, were called Causes
(Airiéac) and dealt with the most diverse questions. The ninth, entitled Hepi
AiBov, dealt with the lodestone. Thrasyllus lists separately some Hypomnemata,
now reckoned not to have been genuine.
We cannot nowadays form any detailed impression of Democritus’ style, but
he was undoubtedly a man of high artistic gifts, and what we can still see of the
colour and clarity of his writing tends to confirm the praises bestowed by
ancient critics. The main feature of his style — terse but elevated, with a tendency
towards parallelism in clauses and great care in word-order — can still be clearly
seen in the fragments. We are quite unable to judge how pure his Ionic dialect
t For the basic genuineness of these sayings, despite the attribution to ‘Democrates’, cf.
H. Diels on B 35.
2 K, REINHARDT in Herm. 47, 1912, 492 (now in Vermiachtnis der Antike. Gottingen 1960,
114) thinks that the cosmological and historical introductory chapter in Diodorus on the
Aegyptiaca of Hecataeus of Abdera goes back to Democritus. But this thesis is disproved
by w. spoERRI, Spathellenistische Berichte iiber Welt, Kultur und Gotter. Schw. Beitr. 9. Basel
1959, who thinks it is a late Hellenistic commonplace on the origin of the world and of
culture.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

was, since we only have fragments preserved through the mediacy of later
authors.
Democritus’ influence was very wide indeed, and sometimes it showed itself
in strange forms. While as a philosopher of nature he left an inheritance that has
yielded a richer and richer harvest over the centuries, he was represented by the
Pythagorean Bolus of Mendes, who lived under Ptolemy II, as a disciple of
Persian mages, a possessor of secret wisdom; and in this character Bolus turned
him into the vehicle of his own cloudy philosophy (B 300). This work in turn
had important influence, and was further developed in the alchemical writings
of late antiquity. The great sage with magical powers is the picture of Demo-
critus that we find in the spurious letters of Hippocrates from the early empire
(C 2-6).

For bibliography see above, p. 167. Anaxagoras: VS 59. D. CIURNELLI, La filo-

sofia di Anasagora, Padua 1947. J. ZAFIROPULO, Anaxagore de Clazomene. Paris
1948. F. M. CLEVE, The Philosophy of Anaxagoras. New York 1949; cf. F. HEINI-
MANN, Gnom. 24, 19$2, 271, with recent literature. J. E. RAVEN, ‘The Basis of
Anaxagoras’ Cosmology’. Class. Quart. 48, 1954, 123. CH. MUGLER, ‘Le
Probléme d’Anaxagore’. Rev. Et. Gr. 69, 1956, 314. D. BARGROVE-WEAVER,
“The Cosmogony of Anaxagoras’. Phronesis 4, 1959, 77. K. BLOCH, ‘ Anaxagoras
und die Atomistik’. Class. et Mediaev. 20, 1959, 1. — Archelaus: VS 60. — Dio-
genes: VS 64. J. ZAFIROPULO, Diogéne d’Apollonie. Paris 1956. — Leucippus: J.
KERCHENSTEINER, ‘Zu Leukippos A 1’. Herm. 87, 1959, 441. — Democritus:
VS 68. K. v. FRITZ, Philosophie und sprachlicher Ausdruck bei Demokrit, Plato und
Aristoteles. New York 1940. Id., ‘Democritus’ Theory of Vision’. Festschr.
Singer 1. 1953, 83. G. VLASTOS, “Ethics and Physics in Democritus’. Philo-
sophical Rev. 54, 1945, 578; 55, 1946, 53. E. ENRIQUES — M. MAZzIoTTI, Le
dottrine di Democrito d’Abdera. Bologna 1948. 1. LANA, ‘Le dottrine di Protagora
e di Democrito’. Acc. d. Lincei. Rend. 1950. vol. 5, 185. Ww. KRANZ, ‘Die
Entstehung des Atomismus’. Convivium. Festgabef. Ziegler. Stuttg. 1954, 14.
CH. MUGLER, ‘Les Théories de la vie et de la conscience chez Démocrite’. Rev.
Phil. 33, 1959, 7. In the treatise of AS-Sakrastani we find 15 ethical fragments of
Democritus: F. ALTHEIM and R. STIEHL, Die aramdische Sprache unter den Achai-
meniden. 2nd impr. 1960, 187.

B The Enlightenment and its Opponents

IS THES OPRHISTS AN DE TLHE= BEGINNINGS. OH RE El ORnle

About the middle of the fifth century, amid the manifold intellectual excite-
ments of the rich period between the Persian and Peloponnesian wars, there
came a dramatic altering ofintellectual horizons. Since Hegel it has been usual
to compare the sophistic movement with the ‘enlightenment’ of the eighteenth
340
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
century, and there are many similar features which justify the comparison. We
should only remember that the influence of the sophists was largely confined to
the intellectual and economic élite to whom it was directed. The delightful
scenes at the beginning of Plato’s Protagoras, in which the lions of the movement
are being féted at the house of the wealthy and enthusiastic Callias, give a good
idea of the social level of the movement. But some of its exponents nevertheless
appealed to a wider public at the national festivals.
The sophistic movement had its antecedents, going a long way back. The
obsolescence of aristocratic ideals in an age when trade and the use of money
had revolutionized Greek economy; the great widening of horizons that came
with colonization; the awakened consciousness of the individual which expressed
itself in lyric poetry; the penetrating criticism which various thinkers had
levelled against traditional beliefs; the severing of the unity of human percep-
tion and reasoning through such philosophers as Heraclitus and Parmenides -
all these factors contributed powerfully. One might pose here the question
which is inevitable in all history of ideas, namely how far the movement
changed the spiritual life of the age by a new dynamic, or how far it merely
brought to fulfilment tendencies already existing. As almost always in such
cases, an extreme position would be false on either side. Bruno Snell! amusingly
compares a similar problem with the classical conundrum: ‘Which came first —
the chicken or the egg?’
No other intellectual movement can be compared with the sophistic in the
permanence of its results. It is not that the sophists at one blow revolutionized
Greek ways of thought: we had indeed to remark on the narrowness of the
circles in which they were at first effective. But what they broke up was never
put together again in Greek life, and the questions which they posed have never
been suffered to lapse in the history of western thought down to our own day.
The Greek view of the world had been considerably enlarged and altered
since the archaic period, and its certainty had been thus threatened. But essen-
tially it continued without a decisive break down to classical times. Man still
lived between known horizons; the storm-winds might blow around his well
shuttered house, but in essentials things were as they had been in his father’s
and grandfather’s day. The world was full of gods — the great deities of the epic
and all the lesser ones who were dear to local belief. This was particularly true
of Attica, which in many ways up to the beginning of the pentecontaetia had
lagged behind the other areas of Greece in her intellectual development. The
teaching of a Xenophanes or a Heraclitus about the old gods was unable to
shake Attic traditional belief: in fact it was hardly known in Athens. The whole
framework of human life, which had been their own creation, the gods now
held under their protection: the law which was declared in their holy places,
the family and education of children, growing up in a settled scheme of values,
relations with citizens and strangers — in a word, the whole ordering of the
polis, over which the goddess of the country stretched out her hand in protection
from the acropolis, as Solon so vividly imagined and expressed it. There were
1 In his very stimulating book Poetry and Society. Indiana Un. Pr. Bloomington 1961, 2.
M2 341
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

indeed a good many internal political struggles, but on other fronts the unity
of the city was not in question. Knowledge and education were not yet forces
that opened a gulf between man and man. When the ancient myths found new
expression on the tragic stage, the great semi-circle of the theatre on the
southern slope of the Acropolis brought together all the free members of the
city, to find in the religious drama a unity that transcended all conflict and
disagreement.
It has been necessary to touch briefly on Greek tradition, the nomos inherited
from their forefathers, in order to appreciate the powers against which the
sophists pitted themselves and which they destroyed — not indeed all or at once,
but a great many over a long time. Our judgment of this movement is made
more difficult since our most detailed source for its history, Plato, was at the
same time its bitterest opponent, and inevitably men’s opinions have differed
widely. According to their individual standpoint, some have seen it as the begin-
ning of the break-up of Hellas, a mortal threat to the basic needs of human life,
while others view it as the bold breaking out of the human spirit from the
stronghold of tradition, a necessary shaking up of something in danger of
ossification. The world of Greek thought here sets us a challenge to which each
must reply as well as he can: what none can deny is that the sophistic movement
was a decisive passage in the history of that people who, in Hélderlin’s words,
were unable to stand still in any place.
The basic assumptions of the sophistic movement had their origin in Ionia.
At the price of some simplification and over-emphasis we might say that it
represents the victory of Ionian curiosity over Attic conservatism. The greatest
of the sophists, Protagoras, came from an Ionian area — Abdera, the birthplace
of Democritus. Born about 485, he was a good deal older than Democritus,
although ancient tradition made him the latter’s pupil. The story that he
received instruction from Magians accompanying the army of Xerxes does not
deserve to be taken seriously, as it recently has been.
The sophists were mostly men without a country of their own, and thus they
had no strong ties. Plato makes this a reproach against them in the Timaeus
(19e). Thus we have tothink of Protagoras as spending most of his life travelling,
although the course of his travels is unknown to us. He visited Sicily, and stayed
in Athens several times and for long periods. We may suppose him to have
been there in the mid-fifth century: then it was that he established close relations
with Pericles, which led to the latter’s entrusting him with making laws for
Thurii (founded 444/43). We find him again in Athens in the second year of
the Peloponnesian war, when he saw Pericles beside the bodies of his two sons
~ they had perished in the terrible epidemic of that year — and was struck with
the greatness and dignity of his bearing. Protagoras’ stays in Athens were
probably more frequent than we know. At all events, it was there that he was
threatened by Pythodorus with an action for impiety, which he escaped by
timely flight. His books were publicly burnt, and he himself is said to have lost
his life in a shipwreck while sailing to Sicily: a fact which seems to be unknown
" Greek-Magian connections: J. BIDEZ - F. CUMONT, Les Mages hellénisés. Paris 1938.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
to Plato (Meno 91 e). Pythodorus represents the reaction of Athenian conserva-
tives to the sophists. He belonged to the oligarchical circles which planned the
putsch of 411, and it was about this time that the attack on Protagoras was
made.
In Plato’s dialogue Protagoras expressly and emphatically describes his
activities as being those of a sophist (317 b). But, he says, the name is somewhat
invidious: all his predecessors, from Homer onwards, who tried to form men
by instruction, prudently chose another name. The passage shows that the
word gog¢ior7s, which had formerly been used more widely and without such
connotations, was now used very differently and in a pejorative sense.! This
change of meaning, reflecting the sharp opposition between sophists and philo-
sophers, had come about particularly in Socratic circles, which fought against
the new movement.
The characteristic features of the sophist are well exemplified in Protagoras.
He goes from city to city teaching, to impart his skills to those who become his
pupils. He does not impart a philosophical system: rather he purveys knowledge
and abilities which will put the pupil into a position to achieve by his skill in
counsel (edBovAla was a witch-word of the age) the best possible place in the
struggles of life and the pursuit of politics.? The skills thus imparted, technical
knowledge as well as ability in rhetoric and dialectic, seemed so valuable to the
sophist and his audience that he usually demanded payment, which might
reach a considerable sum. Teaching was oral in private courses, although public
lectures were sometimes given. The sophist gave notice of his intentions in a
kind of programme (éezdyyeAua). His powers were displayed both in carefully
prepared speeches and in improvisations: thus a practice was initiated which
was never abandoned in antiquity, and which led to the gradual decline of the
place that poetry held in national life.
The importance of the spoken word in sophistic teaching did not prevent
the publishing of their doctrine in books. Unfortunately such works have almost
entirely perished — largely through the activities of their opponents. We can
gain some notion of sophistical display-speeches from the Helena and Palamedes
of Gorgias: for their didactic works we are reduced to such miserable pro-
ductions as the Dialexeis (see below) or the more valuable Anonymus Iamblichi.
In addition, the lecture On the Art of Healing (Ilept réxvns) which is preserved
in the Hippocratic corpus may be taken as a specimen of sophistic writing,
although its attribution to Protagoras is now a thing of the past.
Diogenes Laertius gives us a long list of the works of Protagoras, including
various technical treatises as well as those that we shall discuss later. The
t On the development of the meaning VS 79. W. NESTLE (v. inf.), 249. UNTERSTEINER’S
edition I, 2.
2 B. HEINIMANN in Mus. Helv. 18, 1961, 105 plausibly suggests that Protagoras had de-
veloped a theory of 7éyvy in which he demanded that a réxvy should have a defined purpose
connected with the advancement of human life, should be distinguishable from other
réyvat, and should have an end attainable by instruction. This theory, he thinks, influenced
the Hippocratics (Ilepi réyvns and epi dpxaias inrpxis), the Platonic Socrates, and the
Hellenistic schools of philosophy with their rival claims.
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catalogue may go back to the Alexandrian library: if'so, the Alexandrians must
have taken an interest in Protagoras. It is not easy to form a judgment on the
titles, since there are good grounds for supposing that some refer to the separate
parts of longer works. Untersteiner’s theory" that the titles are all of subsections
of the Antilogiae, and that even the title On the Gods is to be taken thus, is too
sweeping to be fully demonstrable.
It is Diogenes again who tells us distinctly (9. 54) that the Ilepit 6e@v was the
first of his works that Protagoras read in public: the house of Euripides (inter
alia) is mentioned as the scene of this memorable reading. Despite its early date,
this book may have been the main basis of the later action against Protagoras. It
begins: ‘Of the gods I can know nothing, neither that they are nor that they
are not, nor how they are shaped if at all. Many things prevent such knowledge:
the uncertainty of the question and the shortness of human life.’ There could
be no clearer expression of an agnosticism which at a single stroke wiped the
glowing pictures of mythology off the slate of Greek life. We cannot say
whether a thorough-going atheism lurked behind the words. Sometimes (A 12)
Protagoras is spoken of as an atheist; but Cicero (de Nat. Deor. 1. 2; 117) says he
was not. From what we know otherwise of this thinker, he may well have
shrunk from the ultimate conclusion. Diogenes of Oenoanda in the large
Epicurean inscription? says that Protagoras shared in effect the belief of Diagoras
of Melos, but was more guarded in his expressions.
If Protagoras wrote the book On Hell (Ilepi r@v év “Atdov) which the cata-
logue ascribes to him, it was no doubt akin to the work On the Gods and was
intended to demolish the traditional horrors.
The principles of his activity in the education of political man were laid down
by Protagoras in a book under the provocative title of Truth, or Refutations
(AAjIeva 7 KataBdAdovres). At the beginning stood the sentence which consti-
tutes one of the two opposing positions in the ‘war of giants’, as Plato once calls
it (Soph. 246 a), about the nature of existence: ‘Man is the measure of all things:
of things that are, that they are, and of things that are not, that they are not’.
We have given a simple translation, which does not burden the sentence with
the weight of modern theorizing.s We may well think that the questions how
far this statement is purely one of epistemology or how far it is ethical in its
implications, whether the ‘things’ (ypyjuara) are objects or qualities or values,
whether “Man’ is used generally or individually, and so forth postulate differ-
ences in meaning which the words never had. In the history of philosophy the
sequence of action and reaction dominates, and this sentence is to be taken above
all as an attack. It expresses a protest against the Eleatic distinction between
existence as perceived and existence as it really is, against the postulate of an
« “Le “Antilogie” di Protagora’. Antiquitas 2/3. 1947/48, 34; I sofisti (v. inf.), 17.
2 Fr. 12 c. 2, 1, p. 19 William=VS 80 A Daye
3 Cf. BE. KAPP, Gnom. 12, 1936, 71. M. UNTERSTEINER (I sofisti: v. inf.) gives one of his
many wilful interpretations: he thinks it means ‘l’ uomo é dominatore di tutte le esperienze’!
Cf. also B. scHwWaARTZ, Ethik der Griechen. Stuttg. 1959, 77. E. WOLE, Griech. Rechtsdenken. 2.
Frankf. a. M. 1952, 21. Some bibliog. in B. M. Ww. KNOX, Oedipus at Thebes. New Haven
1957, 208.

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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

absolute, immutable Being, accessible only to the reason. This interpretation is

strongly supported by an observation of Porphyry’s on a work that Protagoras
wrote On Being (Ilepi rod dvtos B 4), which we may take as identical with his
Truth. It was directed against those who introduced the notion of Being as
unique and therefore as an absolute. Thus Protagoras’ thought stood in opposi-
tion to that of Parmenides, while in another aspect it was closely akin to it. It
is, after all, permissible to see in homo mensura omnium the Parmenidean unity of
thinking and being, which is now boldly transferred to the perceiving and
thinking individual.! For certainly the sentence refers to the individual. Anyone
who doubts it must hold that Plato is lying or mistaken when he interprets
(Theaet. 152 a) the sentence thus: What he means is something like this: as
things appear to me, so they are for me, and as they appear to you, so they are
for you: you are a man and I am a man. A similar interpretation is given in
Crat. 386 a. If we are determined to disbelieve Plato, we have still to reckon with
other authors? whose use of the word €xaoros shows that they also took the
sentence as referring to the individual.
There can be no possible doubt that the sentence in question expresses the
most determined relativism where all human judgments of value are concerned.
It is quite another question whether Protagoras, having started with the desire
to destroy a hostile position, followed all the logical consequences of this rela-
tivism when he put forward his own. In this respect he is in sharp contrast with
the more radical of his followers, for whom he nevertheless provided their
basic tenets. In the Theaetetus of Plato (166 d) we find a defence of Protagoras’
teachings which starts from the dictum ‘man is the measure’. It is quite in
Protagoras’ manner when the sense of taste of a sick and a healthy man are
considered in every case as being equally true and valid. Nevertheless — and here
Protagoras takes us by the hand and vaults with us over an abyss — the situation
of the healthy man is better than that of the sick, and it is consequently the duty
of the physician to bring the latter back to health and to the sensations associated
with it, just as in the same sense the teacher has to bring his pupil and the
statesman his people into a ‘better’ condition. Now at the beginning of this
section we were told that each individual is the measure of things, which
manifest themselves to individuals in countless diversity and exist for them only
in this appearance. This raises the question whence man derives standards for
‘better’ and ‘worse’ which transcend individual judgment. It is hardly possible
to reply, if we follow consistently the implications of homo mensura omnium.
The best we can arrive at is a naive utilitarianism. We shall be better able to
appreciate the attempts of Protagoras at a solution when we turn to his own
views on the nature and origin of the state.
These questions were discussed by Protagoras in a treatise On the Original Con-
dition of Mankind (Ilept ris €v apy xataordcews), and we can feel fairly sure

1 OQ, GIGON, Herm. 71, 1936, 206. F. HEINIMANN, Nomos und Physis. Schweiz. Beitr. 1,
Basel 1945, 117.
2 Aristot. Metaph. 1062 b 14. Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hyp. 1. 216 (=VS 80 A 14); Plato also
uses the word in the ‘apology of Protagoras’ in Theaet. 166 d.
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that the main lines of his teaching are given in a section of the Platonic dialogue
that bears his name. In a ‘mythos’, which he explicitly distinguishes from a
treatment of the subject by reasoning (logos), he conveys a theory of the origin
of civilization, beginning with a primitive condition of life. Man is less strongly
armed for battle than the beasts, and despite the Promethean gift of fire he
cannot make head against them in isolation. Attempts to form societies mis-
carry, because certain essential concepts are lacking, arid a fight of each against
all is the result. Zeus then sends by Hermes morality and a sense of justice
(aiScs and 8é«n), which make political life and cultural development possible.
The picture of human development that we find in this tale is in the sharpest
possible contrast to the pessimistic picture which Hesiod draws in the Erga of
the steady degeneration that accompanies the passage of ages. An unqualified
optimism and belief in progress was as much part of the sophistic movement as
it was of the eighteenth-century enlightenment.
When we remove the mythical trappings, we find ourselves faced with
Protagoras’ belief that in every man morality and a sense of justice are implanted
by nature. Exceptions to this rule - men who cannot fit into a social pattern -
are removed from the community by being put to death. But the normal
innate tendency towards political virtue is not enough in itself: it needs to be
developed by education. The importance of education — a basic element of
sophistic doctrine — emerges very clearly from this elaborate context. In a
valuable fragment (B 3) we find the thesis that learning requires both talent
(dvdous) and training (doxyots). Here again Protagoras is no radical: he does not
totally reject the archaic and early classical doctrine of the decisive value of
physis. What he does is to lay equal stress on the effects of education.! Recalling
Pindar’s jibes at self-made men, we may see this faith in education as a new
element and one which was to Protagoras the basic justification of his activities.
We are probably hearing the views of the historical Protagoras when Plato’s
character makes punishment purely an educative measure.
Protagoras thus avoided the danger of destroying the basis of political life
by his relativism. He made his peace with nomos, whether we take it in the sense
of traditional custom or of the law of the state. In his doctrine this human
nomos does not have a powerful opponent in the person of unwritten natural
law, claiming sole validity for itself. But we cannot fail to see that the line of
thought leading from homo mensura to pure relativism is broken at an important
place, and that the introduction of absolute qualities like morality and justice
into a world in which man is the only standard brings about great difficulties.
Protagoras had recourse to an intellectual construction when he ascribed a
special authority to the nomos of the state as that of a collective. It is not that he
derives principles of unqualified validity from the common nature of man: the
nomoi of individual cities and states varied widely, as the Ionian enquirers had
found long before, and in the Theaetetus (167 c) it is expressly given as Prota-
goras’ opinion that for any given state the just and the beautiful are what that
state considers such, and only so long as she continues to do so. This remarkable
‘ In Plato (Prot. 323 d) Protagoras gives this pedagogic trinity as éméAeca, doxnass, bdax7.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
mixture of heterogeneous elements enables him to maintain his relativism
without sacrificing the authority of the state and with it the object of sophistic
education.
The longest of Protagoras’ works was probably the Antilogiae, which is the
only one described as being in two books. We can gain no clear idea of its
contents, and we are not helped by the declaration of Aristoxenus (VS 80 B 5)
that most of Plato’s Republic is contained in the Antilogiae. We have some indica-
tion, though a very general one, of its contents in Diogenes Laertius (9. 51),
who says that on each topic there were two speeches, one for and one against.
It was probably the object of the book to prosecute these methods through the
various departments of human life. It would be natural for problems of justice
and political society to be prominent in such a work, and this may explain the
exaggerated statement of Aristoxenus. The invention of the ‘speech both ways’
(Secaol Adyor) can itself be explained in two ways. It may express a serious
conviction that man lives in a world of antinomies; or it may reflect a clever
speaker's temptation to put whatever view he espouses into the best possible
light. It is in the latter sense that the ancients interpreted Protagoras’ words in
his prospectus (€7a@yyeAua): “to make the worse appear the better cause’ (rov
qTTw Adyov KpeitTTWw qrovetv). For Protagoras this was a possibility inherent in the
idea of the duagot Adyor, and he certainly had no intention of teaching a barren
rhetorical artifice. But we cannot deny that he did provide the theoretical basis
for such practices.
Protagoras exemplifies to a high degree what Prodicus (B 6) says about the
sophists: they are a creature half-way between philosopher and _politician
(referring especially to the oratorical side of a politician’s life). Thus the work
of Protagoras finds reflections far and wide among the very different individuals
who were called sophists, and was given a very personal colouring in the hands
of Gorgias. Any classification is bound to break some of the threads, but we may
profitably rank after Protagoras two men who were to some extent independent
of him and show no trace of Gorgianic influence. One of them, Prodicus, is
referred to as the pupil of Protagoras, but ancient tradition was so ready with
these literary connections that such statements do not need to be taken very
seriously.
Prodicus came from an Ionian area, from Iulis on Ceos, where he was prob-
ably born between 470 and 460. We know that he once or twice represented his
people’s interests in Athens, which no doubt gave him the opportunity to
deliver lectures. We generally think of him as he is shown in Plato’s Protagoras,
where he is carefully wrapped up in numerous blankets and is conducting a
class from his bed — a savant who did not seek publicity so determinedly as his
colleagues. It is consistent with this picture of him that his voice did not carry
well (A 1a), and we hear only of his prepared speeches, never of improvisations.
At the time when Socrates was prosecuted, Prodicus, Gorgias and Hippias all
seem to have been still alive (Plat. Apol. 19 e).
His lecture-courses were expensive, and linguistic studies seem to have
played a large part in them. Similar interests appear in Democritus and
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Protagoras: Prodicus specialized in the differentiation of synonyms, in which he

displayed an often exaggerated zeal. At the same time he tried to differentiate
between the ideas expressed. It is significant that we find the word dcaupetv used
in this connection (A 17. 19), since in effect Prodicus’ methods of work looked
forward to the ‘diaeresis’ which became a valuable tool in the methodology of
the Platonic academy.
His work on synonyms was conveyed by oral instruction, and we do not
know whether it was ever put into writing. There is very little that we know
about his other works. The Alexandrians catalogued them under treatises on
rhetoric, while the scholiast to Aristophanes’ Birds 692 makes them philo-
sophical: a further indication of his midway position. There is some doubt
about an alleged book of his entitled On Nature or On the Nature ofMan (Iept
ddcews avOpdrov), but thanks to W. Nestle’s researches' we know rather more
about the Horae (Qpar). We do not know when it was written: possibly at a
fairly late date, so that the title might have been given by the author himself.
It is likely that the Horae were taken as goddesses of fertility, since agriculture
as the basis of human civilization played an important part in the work. We
can see some affinity to the questions posed in Protagoras’ On the Primitive
Condition of Mankind, although the treatment is wholly different and the main
stress is laid on cultivation of the soil. We can be rather more confident in
supposing the Horae to have expressed Prodicus’ view that religion arose as
man’s reaction to the natural circumstances of his life. At an early stage he
regarded the forces and gifts of nature as being themselves divine; later, by
analogous reasoning, he raised to divine honours the inventors of various
techniques that benefited humanity. This kind of rationalism has its fore-
runners in Ionian thought: in the other direction it anticipates the theory of
Euhemerus. It was not without reason that Prodicus was sometimes? reckoned
in antiquity as an atheist.
The purple passage of the Horae was the allegory of the choice of Heracles,
who was met by Virtue and Vice in the form of two women of different
appearance and attire. The story had its antecedents in Hesiod’s description of
the two ways of life (Erga 286) and the myth of the choice and judgment of
Paris as Sophocles presented it with moral overtones: in his satyr-play Crisis. But
Prodicus’ story is neither poetry nor myth: it is the first of a long line of intel-
lectual allegories which no longer have that feeling for a divine power which
informs many archaic allegories of an apparently similar content. It is sympto-
matic that Xenophon (Mem. 2. 1. 21) should be the author who has retold the
story at the greatest length. Its influence was very great: its most singular
expression was in the symbolism of the letter Y, which first appears in the first
century of our era, when it is ascribed to Pythagoras. The letter was considered
as symbolizing the dividing of the ways, where Heracles and everyone else has
to make up his mind.
1 “Die Horen des Prodikos’. Herm. 71, 1936, 151. Griech. Studien. Stuttgart 1948, 403.
2 Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. 9. 51. Cicero, de Natura Deor. 1. 118.
3 B. SNELL, Die Entdeckung des Geistes. 3rd ed. Hamb. 1955, 327 (cf. Eng. ed. p. 268).

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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
In the Platonic dialogue that bears his name Protagoras attacks those sophists
who made their pupils learn all kinds of technical disciplines such as mathe-
matics, astronomy and music; and he does so with a side-long glance at Hippias
(318 e). Hippias was the most determined exponent of that school among the
sophists which aimed at mastering all arts and sciences. He was the representa-
tive of the Peloponnese in sophistic circles, having been born in Elis. Like his
contemporaries, he travelled widely in the Greek world, went on various
embassies for his city and earned a great deal of money by his lectures. To appear
at Olympia was no great undertaking for an Elean, and he displayed himself
there with great pomp, wearing a purple mantle like the most celebrated
sophists of the Empire. He boasted that everything he had on his person,
starting from the ring on his finger, was made by his own hand (Plat. Hipp. min.
368 b). His abilities with the pen were no less varied. According to the passage
in Plato just quoted, he tried his hand at epic, tragedy, dithyramb and many
kinds of prose literature. Of the last we possess a few titles — not very informa-
tive — such as Names of Peoples ?E@v@v dvopaciar) and Collection (Lvvaywy%).
Of what this was a collection we do not know, but from scattered references it
must have had very varied subject matter. Hippias concerned himself with
most of the branches of learning then recognized; and when we find arithmetic,
geometry, grammar, rhetoric, dialectic and music among the contents, we may
perhaps see here the elements, not yet reduced to system, which were later
brought together in the notion of encyclopaedic education.!
It is probable that, under the influence of Plato’s two dialogues, we underrate
the work of Hippias, but at all events one of his works, the List of Victors at the
Olympics, performed a considerable service in laying a firm foundation for Greek
chronology. We should be glad to know more about his interpretation of
poets, in which he and other sophists with similar interests provided the first
studies in Greek literary history. In order to retain all his wide and varied
knowledge, Hippias used a system of mnemonics which he had devised him-
self.
His work called Troicus (Tpwikds) was closer to the usual run of sophistic
writing with its strong pedagogic tendency. In it Neoptolemus after the
capture of Troy asks Nestor to advise him what pursuits will gain fame for a
young man. Since the conversation is set at the end of a long war, presumably
Nestor spoke of the tasks of peace. On war the sophists no doubt held much
the same views as Gorgias.”
Among our bits of information about Hippias there is one in Plato’s Prota-
goras that catches our attention. Hippias addresses the company (337 c) as
‘kinsmen, men oflike feelings, fellow-citizens, by nature [Avce:| rather than by
law and custom [véuw|’. He goes on to say that nature binds like and like
together, while nomos like a tyrant (r¥pavvos: obviously a deliberate variant on
Pindar’s ‘custom is king of all’) often exerts a compulsion contrary to nature.
The context and tone leave no doubt that Plato is repeating actual teachings of
1 See R. MEISTER’S judicious article in Wien. Stud. 69, 1956, 258.
2 Cf. WILHELM NESTLE (v. inf.), 313, 34-
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Hippias’. This is an antithesis unknown to Protagoras, but very influential later:

nomos is set in opposition to physis, which alone can claim validity. We cannot
trace this antithesis back before the middle ’twenties, when it finds vigorous
expression in Antiphon. At this time Hippias may well have been active in
Athens. Having virtually no philosophical interests of his own, Antiphon was
probably the borrower, as has been plausibly argued.’
It was in the twenties, a period when new doctrines made rapid headway
after the death of Pericles and under the influence of the war, that Gorgias came
to Athens. He was already old when he came in 427 as ambassador from his
native Sicilian city of Leontini and made the greatest impression by his elaborate
rhetoric. He was probably born in the first decade of the fifth century and lived
on until a few years after the death of Socrates. We know very little of his
travels — he seems to have had good connections in Thessaly — and even less about
his development. He is said to have been a pupil of Empedocles’: he avowed
this himself, according to Satyrus (A 3) — not of course the best of authorities.
Influence from the west Greek philosophers is much more certainly attested
by his book On Not-being, or On Nature (Ilept to pu) dvtos 7 epi pdcews).
We gain some notion of its contents from the reference in Sextus Empiricus
(B 3) and the anonymous treatise On Melissus, Xenophanes and Gorgias (v. sup.
p- 209). It is said to have advanced the three theses: Nothing exists; if it did, it
could not be perceived; if it could be conceived, it could not be communicated.
This work was not a pure jeu d’esprit, nor was it serious philosophy, for as such
it would have cut the ground from beneath the feet of all the sophists’ work.
Gigon rightly compares it with expressions of men like Protagoras or Xeniades
(VS 81) which ultimately derive from Parmenides and pursue particular points
of epistemology to extreme and sometimes paradoxical conclusions. We can
see that Gorgias here used the same indirect argumentation that we find in his
surviving epideictic speeches. A number of possibilities is brought down to one
by a repeated reductio ad absurdum.
Another interpretation of the treatise is possible. We might take it as a turning-
point in a career in which Gorgias was at first a physical scientist under the
influence of Empedocles, then a philosopher under that of the Eleatics, finally,
when he became dissatisfied with philosophy altogether, a teacher of rhetoric.
But we have not the slightest evidence for such a development. Very likely he
was the same in his earlier years as we find him in old age: an expert teacher and
practitioner of persuasion by the spoken word.
The power of oratory was not a discovery of Gorgias’ generation: it was
known already to Homer. We read in the Iliad (9. 443) of the objects of ayoung
noble’s education — to be a speaker of words and a doer of deeds. Since time out
of mind the law-court and the council chamber had been the scenes of the
speaker’s activity. It is obvious that his role became much more important with
the rise of democracy and the introduction of people’s courts. We cannot date the
1 B, HEINIMANN (v. p. 345, n. I), 142.
2 Not in VS, but cf. 82 B 3. On the value of the quotation see 0. GIGON, ‘Gorgias ‘‘ Ueber
das Nichtsein”’’. Herm. 71, 1936, 186.
350
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
important change by which the sung lament over the dead was replaced by a
ceremonial funeral speech.’ That it should have come about under sophistic
influence is very unlikely: on the other hand the sophists were certainly respon-
sible for the introduction of show-speeches (emde(fers) at the great national
festivals. This example shows particularly well how the orator was now dis-
puting pride of place with the poet — with the choral lyrist above all.
Rhetoric as an art to be taught was not creative: it was a codification of
features which had long existed in the practice of poetry and speech-making.
What came now was that extraordinary increase in the use and the estimation
of rhetorical methods and devices which contained in itself already the seed of
over-cultivation and decay. We should not underrate the great and truly artistic
achievements of fourth-century rhetoric, no matter how alien this side of the
Greek genius may be to us. On the other hand, it cannot be denied that a concern
with rhetoric in the later centuries played no small part in the decline of intel-
lectual life.
Gorgias came to central Greece with his system already developed. In
Sicily Corax and his pupil Tisias had written the first manual of rhetoric of
which we have any knowledge.? We can certainly assume that Gorgias was
influenced from this direction: certainly Tisias accompanied him to Athens in
427.
While the power of the spoken word played a more or less important part
in every sophist’s programme, it was the very core of Gorgias’ teaching. The
“mistress of persuasion’, as the Sicilians had probably already christened
rhetoric, was for him a weapon of unlimited possibilities, a way of taking the
soul captive, to which in the Helen he ascribes almost magical qualities. In order
to make the worse appear the better cause, Protagoras had mostly had recourse
to subtle argumentation, i.e. to the use of Jogos in the sense of reason. In Gorgias
also we find the probable (ra etxdra: Plat. Phaedr. 267 a) taking the place of the
indiscoverable and perhaps inexpressible truth. This ‘probable’ he seeks to
establish mostly by the exclusion of other possibilities. He also laid particular
emphasis on the adroit use of the favourable moment (xarpos): this was the
subject of his first book (B 13).3 But what was new in his speeches and gave
them their particularly enthralling quality was Jogos in its other meaning — the
word. Gorgias consciously used the sound of words as an instrument of rhetorical
effect, often breaking through the barrier between poetry and prose. He does
this not so much in his choice of words as in his untiring use of the figures of
speech named after him (cy7jara Popydeva). Here again what we find is not the
invention of something wholly new, but a reduction to system and a gross over-
application of devices which poetry and emotive prose had used as they thought
fit. Correspondence of clauses which are connected in thought by parallelism
or antithesis is now heightened by isocola and parisa until even the number of
syllables and relative position of words are balanced carefully. There are
t On this question see F. JACOBY, Journ. Hell. Stud. 64, 1944, 39, 8 and $7, 92.
2 RADERMACHER (vp. inf.), 28.
3 An allied notion is the mpézov, on which M. POHLENZ, GGN 1920, 170. 1933, 54-
351
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

frequent assonances between individual words, even where there is no basis for
them in the sense, and our ears are repeatedly assailed with rhyming word-
endings (6povoréAevta).
We possess a large fragment of an Epitaphios which he wrote on Athenian
dead in the Peloponnesian war. In it we find the dictum (B 5 b) that the victory
of Greek over barbarian deserved to be celebrated, that of Greek over Greek
to be lamented. This accords well with the appeal for Hellenic unity which is
the tenor of his Olympicus. The anti-eastern theme was taken up by his pupil
Isocrates. We also know of a Panegyric on Elis and a Pythicus which he delivered
from the steps of the Delphic altar and which was connected with the dedication
of a statue of him in solid gold (A 1. 7).
Two of his productions, the oldest rhetorical declamations that we possess,
are preserved in their entirety. Both, like the rest of Gorgias’ writings, are in
a very ornate Attic dialect. In one, the Helen, he defends the much traduced
heroine with every rhetorical device, without availing himself of Stesichorus’
story of the phantom; the Palamedes is a similar defence against unjust con-
demnation. In both speeches the interpretations unfavourable for the defence
are set aside on arguments of probability. In the last words of the Helen Gorgias
admits that he is not serious.
Very probably the two speeches appeared as examples in Gorgias’ treatise on
rhetoric, about which we are very ill informed.* It is quite possible that it
consisted wholly or mostly of examples like these. What part theoretical dis-
cussion played in it is not known.
Gorgias was well aware that his artistic prose hovered on the fringes of poetry,
and he gave interesting expression to his views on the latter. The similarity
between his kind of oratory and poetry (which he defined as oratory bound by
metre) lay in the fact that both could exercise unrestricted mastery over the
soul (Hel. 8 f.). Among the effects of poetry on the audience he enumerates
‘fearful anxiety, tearful lamentation and grief-stricken yearning’: an anticipa-
tion to some degree of Aristotle’s famous words on the effects of tragedy.3 In
his views on tragedy Gorgias shows himself as a true sophist, for whom absolute
being and absolute value have no meaning. He considers it (B 23) as an exchange
or barter in which the deceiver is more just than the one who does not deceive
and the one who is deceived is cleverer than he who is not deceived. In parts like
these we find the beginnings of the theory of poetry; but we need not think
that Gorgias had already planned a systematic treatment of it.+

* Some good analyses in v. PISANI, Storia della lingua greca in Encicl. Class. 2/4/1. Turin
1960, 107.
2 Passages quoted before B 12; cf. SCHMID 3. 68. 12. NESTLE (v. inf.), 310, is too confident
in his reconstruction; cf. RADERMACHER (v. inf.), 43.
3 The interpretation of the passage of the Poetics in Schadewaldt, ‘Furcht und Mitleid?’.
Herm. 83, 1955, 129 (now in Hellas und Hesperien. Ziirich 1960, 346), makes the connection
even closer.
* Cf. M. POHLENZ, ‘Die Anfinge der griech. Poetik’. GGN 1920, 142; also L. RADER-
MACHER-W. KRAUS, ‘Aristophanes’ Frésche’. Sitzb. Ak. Wien. 1954, 368. H. FLASHER, Herm.
84, 19506, 18.

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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Gorgias’ influence appeared powerfully in his pupils. Among them were
poets like the tragedian Agathon, who appropriately enough in Plato’s Sym-
posium composes his address to Love in a Gorgianic style, and the dithyrambic
writer Licymnius, who wrote a textbook (réyv7) of rhetoric in which he dressed
up the technical terms in metaphor.’ Another Techne was written by Polus of
Agrigentum,* who accompanied his teacher on his travels. Antisthenes} was for
a long time one of Gorgias’ pupils, until he attached himself to Socrates. The
master himself probably was equally at home in prepared and extemporary
speeches; but in two of his pupils these two abilities appeared sharply opposed.
Isocrates raised the epideixis to the status of a respectable art-form, whereas Alci-
damas, from the Aeolic city of Elaea in Asia Minor, wrote a polemical treatise
On the Sophists+ (lept rv tods ypartovs Adyous ypaddvtwv 4) rept codiotAv:
e.g. Isocrates) in which he declared improvisation was much more important.
We also possess under his name a Speech of Odysseus against Palamedes, but its
authenticity is doubtful. A miscellany of his entitled Museion has been lost:
among its varied contents was a Contest of Homer and Hesiod.
The history of the sophistic movement, which saw the most diverse develop-
ments of the ideas of Protagoras and Gorgias, is beset with difficult problems
as soon as we speak of Antiphon. Under this name — a very common one in
Attica — we possess quite a collection of writings, fragments and titles: various
speeches (some actually delivered, some fictional), a party-pamphlet against
Alcibiades, a Politicus, two books On Truth, one On Common Sense and one On
Dreams. Didymus (quoted with some approval by Hermogenes: VS 87 A 2)
was the first to distinguish two authors of the same name, ascribing the speeches
to the one and the remaining works to the other. Modern critics have been
divided: some follow Didymus (with variations), others cling to unity of
authorship.® We are tolerably well informed about the orator Antiphon of
Rhamnus, whose abilities are given generous recognition by Thucydides (8. 68):
one of the best brains of his time, he kept himself mostly in the background,
but his help was most valuable in court or in the assembly. He was the guiding
spirit of the oligarchical putsch of 411, and after the overthrow of the Four
Hundred he was condemned to death. He displayed a many-sided activity: he
earned a great deal as a writer of speeches for others (Aoyoypd¢os) — in his speech
in his own defence he speaks of attacks that he suffered on this score - and in
Plato’s Menexenus he appears as a distinguished teacher of rhetoric; Thucydides
is sometimes described as his pupil. This versatility makes it impossible for us
to be confident in separating the orator from the sophist Antiphon who figures
1 RADERMACHER (v. inf.), 117.
2 Tbid. 112.
3 Ibid. 120.
4 Ibid. 135. On the opposition of Alcidamas and Isocrates: G. WALBERER, Isokrates und
Alkidamas. Diss. Hamburg 1938. W. STEIDLE, Herm. 80, 1952, 285. On stylistic peculiarities
of Alc. cf. Arist. Rhet. III 3. 1405 b 34 and F. SOLMSEN, Herm. 67, 1932, 133.
5 RADERMACHER (v. inf.), 134, who gives the older literature. Theories on the nature of
the Museion in E. voGT, Rhein. Mus. 102, 1959, 217, 68.
6 Summary in UNTERSTEINER, I sofisti (v. inf.), 274.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

as an opponent of Socrates in the Memorabilia of Xenophon.! The distinction

would be permissible if we could be sure that Socrates’ map’ jyuiv (Mem. 1. 6, 13)
implied that Antiphon was not an Athenian,? but this is uncertain. The question
cannot be decided on stylistic grounds; Hermogenes is right in saying that
differences of style could arise from the difference of literary genre. But Wil-
helm Nestle’s question still has to be squarely faced: Could the leader of the
oligarchic coup d’état be the same man who declared his belief in the equality
of all men (On Truth: B 4, fr. B, col. 2)? But we do not know the context or
the area within which the principle was thought to be valid. Consequently, if
in the next paragraphs we treat the orator and the sophist as two different men,
we must confess how much doubt still remains.
The Alexandrians knew of sixty speeches of Antiphon’s, but as early as the
first century B.c. Caecilius of Cale Acte, who had made a special study of the
orator, declared twenty-five of them to be spurious. We now possess a small
corpus orationum under his name, of which three — delivered in a trial for homi-
cide — are undoubtedly genuine. They are Or. 1, in which a stepson accuses his
stepmother of poisoning, and Orr. 5 and 6, both for the defence, one against
suspicion of murder, the other against a charge of the accidental killing of a
youth. We have also on papyrus some fragments of the speech which Antiphon
made in his own defence. The surviving speeches, with their clear and neat
construction and their unpretentious Attic language, are valuable examples of
early oratory. F. Solmsen+ has shown how in these speeches the old non-
technical methods of proof — oath and examination of slaves under torture —
were being replaced by a new method of argumentation directed towards the
establishment of probabilities. The influence of sophistic teachings is obvious.
According to Plato (Menex. 236 a) Antiphon of Rhamnus was highly ranked
as a teacher of rhetoric, and consequently we shall ascribe to him the technical
treatises that we hear of under the name of Antiphon.5 The Technae were indeed
suspect even in antiquity (Pollux 6. 143), but we do know of a collection of
commonplaces for beginnings and endings of speeches.
Rhetorical treatises at this time seem to have been mostly collections of
examples. From one of these presumably came the three Tetralogies under
Antiphon’s name, each containing four speeches in trials of homicide, two for
the prosecution, two for the defence. Considerations of style and subject
matter compel us to leave it an open question whether the Antiphon of the
extant speeches was the author of the Tetralogies.6 But whoever wrote the
speeches, they are no less valuable for the light they throw on the legal thought
of the time.
* P. VON DER MUHLI, ‘Zur Unechtheit der antiphontischen Tetralogien’. Mus. Helv. s,
1948, 1, thinks they are the same. On the part played by A. in Xenophon’s dialogue see
O. GIGON, Schw. Beitr. 5, 1933, 151. 2 BE. R. DODDS, Class. Rev. 68, 1954, 94.
3 Nr. 46 P. Cf. w. FERGUSON, ‘The condemnation of Antiphon’. Mélanges Glotz 1,
1932, 349.
+ AntiphonstuBerl.
dien.1931. 5 RADERMAC
(v. HER
inif.), 76.
® VON DER MUHLL, cf. sup. n. r. On the other side: c. ZUNTZ, ‘Once again the Anti-
phontean Tetralogies’. Mus. Helv. 6, 1949, 100 (genuine: written about 444)
354
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
We shall discuss here the speeches of a man who takes us over into the next
century, but whose fortunes and political activities were determined by events
that took place before the Sicilian expedition. Andocides came from an old
Athenian noble family; as a young man he joined the aristocratic political club
of Euphiletus and took part in exploits which expressed the same combination
of oligarchical principles and anti-religious freethought which we find in
Critias. In consequence of the mutilation of the Hermae in 415 Andocides found
himself in prison, and he was able to free himself only by betraying those who
were guilty. This left an ugly stain on his character. In 407 he appeared before the
ecclesia with the first of his extant speeches (Ilepi ris éavtod xaOd8ov), in which
he sought unsuccessfully to be allowed to return to Athens. He did not in fact
return until the amnesty of 403; but his enemies remained implacable, and in
399 they brought an action for impiety against him. Among the speeches of
Lysias there is a spurious one purporting to be the accusation against Andocides:
it is probably a product of the political pamphleteering of the early fourth
century. Andocides’ speech in defence is preserved (De Mysteriis: Hepit r&v
pevoTnpiwy). This time he was lucky, and he attained some reputation in Athens,
which is attested by a choregic monument to his victory with a chorus of boys
at the Dionysia (IG II/III, 2nd ed. nr. 1138) and his participation in an embassy
to Sparta (393/92). On this occasion he spoke before the people on peace with
Sparta (Ilepi ris zpos Aaxedaumoviovs eipyvys). But the war went on; sentence
of death was pronounced against the members of the legation, and Andocides
had once more to seek safety abroad. A fourth speech ascribed to him under the
title Against Alcibiades pretends to be an attack aiming at the latter’s ostracism.
It is spurious. His style has a simple and spontaneous flow, innocent of any
conscious rhetorical effect.
Whereas Antiphon wrote speeches for others, Andocides spoke in his own
cause, with less art than Antiphon, but with a strong expression of personality.
A similar immediacy, with still less art, is found in the speech For Polystratus,
which we find as the twentieth of Lysias’ speeches. In it a son defends his father
who has been deeply implicated in the activities of the Four Hundred. This also
is a useful example of a rhetorical practice which we must assume to have been
very widespread at the time.
After this brief summary we can return to the problem of Antiphon. With
the reservations mentioned before we take it as the first fixed point that a
sophist, distinct from the orator but otherwise unknown, wrote a treatise On
Truth (’AA7jGeva). In addition to scattered fragments there are two fairly large
pieces on papyrus (nr. 47 f. P.) coming from the second book, which give us
an idea of the problems discussed. Ideas which were lightly touched upon by
Hippias in the Protagoras are here forcefully developed. Protagoras tried to keep
a place for nomos, but he could not prevent his own arguments from leading to
its rejection. We can see that Gorgias’ thought contained elements that pointed
the same way: in a passage of the Epitaphios (VS 82 B 6, 15) he praised the dead
for having often preferred mild equity to the harshness of the law. The latter
had come to be called in question, as every truth that claims universal validity
335
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

must be during a movement with ‘man is the measure’ as its starting-point. It

is a process often seen in history: the secularization of law and custom, in an
age which no longer believes in its gods, leads inevitably to their devaluation.
The search for a new and reliable norm had already begun, and a development
which had long been foreshadowed in Ionian science led to the installation of
Nature in the vacant place as the highest and the universally valid sanction.
In the first book of the Truth Antiphon had discussed scientific questions in
the manner of the Ionian physicists: in the second we find the physis-nomos
antithesis very sharply brought out, the law of convention being condemned as
an absurd restraint on nature. We cannot say precisely where this antithesis
began nor who first had the idea of natural law; but mostly they came from
the sophistic movement and were considerably developed in the hands of
Antiphon.
It was in the light of natural law that Antiphon propounded his revolu-
tionary doctrine of the equality of all men: first equality between noble and
commoner in the same city, secondly between Greek and barbarian, on the
ground that we all breathe through nose and mouth and use our hands in
eating. The equality of freeman and slave is implicit in this theory: later Alci-
damas (whom we met as the champion of improvisation) in his Messenian
Oration was to declare explicitly! that God had made all men free and that
Nature destined no man to slavery. The equating of God and Nature is obvious,
and the passage in general echoes the tones of the Alcidamas who called philo-
sophy a bulwark against laws and customs.
We are in difficulties with the treatise On Working Together (Ilepi opovoias).
The surviving remains show a generally pessimistic attitude towards human
life, and we may suspect that the work considered co-operation as the basis of
human life, particularly of life in political communities. Since such co-operation
is impossible without nomos, it is hard to recognize here the author of the
Truth, The assumption that in his maturity he developed towards a Protagorean
loyalty to the laws is pure hypothesis. In addition there are considerable stylistic
differences between the dry reasoning of the Truth and the striking and lively
manner of this treatise. On the other hand, one should not underrate the
versatility of a sophist, and so we must be content to point out the differences
without postulating plural authorship.? A characteristically sophistic feature is
the praise of education as the best thing that mortals can have (B 60), with the
metaphor, since worked to death, of seed planted in the soil. In view of the
problems involved, there would be no profit in listing the various hypotheses
concerning the authorship of the writings Against Alcibiades, On Dreams and
the Politicus.
The antithesis between conventional and natural law appears clearly enough
in Antiphon, but others took the doctrine to a radical extreme. Tradition was
considered as a constraint laid on the gifted and able few by the prudence of
t Schol. Aristot. Rhet. 1, 13. 1373 b 18. ‘Bulwark’: Rhet. 3, 3. 1406 b 11.
An attempt to reconcile the differences is made by M. POHLENZ, Griech. Freiheit. Heidel-
berg 1955, 75.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

the weak multitude, so as to keep them within the bounds of civil society.
Natural law, on the contrary, is with those who break through such restraints
and, like true supermen, make their own will the only law that binds them.
This is the doctrine that Plato puts into the mouth of Callicles in the Gorgias
and of Thrasymachus in the first book of the Republic. When Callicles in the
first passage professes to see natural law exemplified in the man of iron who
tramples on all laws, the moral notions of centuries were stood on their head,
and only the total destruction of myth at the hands of the sophists made it
possible to claim that Pindar’s “custom is ruler of all’ supported this theory.
While we know so little of Callicles that even his historical existence has been
doubted, we can say a little more about Thrasymachus. A metic from Calchedon
on the Bosporus, he gained notice in Athens by his political writings. One of
these, On the Constitution, protests against party strife during the crises of the
war; the other, For the People of Larissa, defends their claim to freedom against
Archelaus of Macedon.
Nothing in the surviving work hints at the enthusiastic advocate of the
natural right of the strong. There is, however, the possibility of a reconciliation
in a fragment (B 8) which complains to the gods of their neglect of human
affairs: otherwise they would not have forgotten the greatest gift, righteousness,
which is nowhere to be found among men. Certainly the fragments do not give
us the picture of a man driven by bitter disillusion to the radicalism which he
represents in the Republic.1 We cannot of course neglect the part which Plato
himself played in giving this impression of Thrasymachus.
A very influential work of Thrasymachus’ was his textbook of rhetoric
(MeyaAn téyvm), which played its part in the formation of Attic prose style. So
far as we can see, the construction and articulation of speeches received most
attention: the Gorgianic figures remained in the background, except that
Thrasymachus laid stress on having a rhythmical close to sentences.”
Theoretical treatises on rhetoric were beginning to multiply. Technae were
written by Theodore of Byzantium with special reference to the arrangement
of material; and Euenus of Paros, who also wrote elegies, composed part of his
didactic work in verse. The “Oxyrhynchus Rhetoric’ is written in Doric.
No one so whole-heartedly practised the sophistic doctrines which he
preached as Critias, Plato’s uncle, a member of an old Athenian noble family.
In his personality we find a union of all the impulses of the sophistic movement,
whose period of Sturm und Drang reached a symbolic end in his dramatic death.
The demand for individual freedom of action could now no longer be gainsaid,
and in many respects Critias anticipates the strong men of the post-Alexandrine
period, such as Demetrius Poliorcetes.
We may suppose that Critias, as a radical oligarch, very soon joined one of
those aristocratic clubs which had sworn death to the democracy and welcomed
the new teachings. Naturally he was involved in the mutilation of the Hermae,
and he was later associated with Alcibiades, after whose overthrow he lived for
1 WOLF (v. inf.), 106. 2 RADERMACHER (v. inf.), 75.
3 Nr. 1785 P.; RADERMACHER (v. inf.), 231.
B27
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

some time in Thessaly. The defeat of Athens at last allowed him to indulge his
taste for power. He quickly achieved pre-eminence among the Thirty, had the
moderate Theramenes liquidated, and stained his own reputation by a reign of
terror which we cannot forget despite Plato’s favourable interpretation.' He
died in 403 fighting against the democrats who were holding Munychia under
Thrasybulus.
The many and varied talents of Critias and his active disposition led him to
attempt many forms of literature. He was the last to write the kind of political
elegy which addressed itself to an audience of kindred feelings and which came
to an end with the passing of the old polis. Among the remains of these is part
of one to Alcibiades. His constant pre-occupation with politics is attested by his
Political Constitutions, partly in elegiacs (IloAvretae €perpor), partly in prose.
We know that the latter dealt with Athens, Thessaly and Sparta: an elegiac
fragment also survives that refers to Sparta. So far as we can see, customs and
usage received most attention. It is interesting to find a fairly large fragment in
hexameters containing an elegant tribute to Anacreon: it seems to have come
from a work dealing with distinguished poets, comparable with the treatise of
Glaucus of Rhegium On the Old Poets and Musicians.
Critias also wrote tragedies. In the biography of Euripides we read that the
tragedies Tennes, Rhadamanthys and Pirithous* were considered not to be the
work of the great tragedian. A notice in Athenaeus (11. 496 b) says that the
authorship of the Pirithous was disputed between Euripides and Critias. On this
basis the plays in question have been ascribed to Critias. One of the surviving
fragments (B 22) is interesting: the able individual stands firmer than the law,
which can only too easily be perverted by demagogues. Here again we find a
depreciation of nomos. Critias also wrote a satyr-play Sisyphus, which scholars
have supposed to have formed a tetralogy with the three tragedies. From this
play we have a fragment (B 25), preserved by Sextus Empiricus, which is of
great importance in the history of ideas. Like Protagoras, the writer supposes
that a chaotic primitive condition of life was followed by the introduction of
law and justice. But the final sanction of these ideas awaited the discovery of a
subtle genius. He introduced the notion of gods who watched men even when
they were secure from human observation. This explanation of the nature and
origin of religion is the most radical consequence of sophistic thought.
Of Critias’ prose writings we possess only a few titles, such as Definitions
(A gopropiot) and Conversations (‘OpAcac). We may amuse ourselves by suppos-
ing that they were like the Socratic dialogues, but it is better to admit that we do
not know. It may be mentioned that Critias wrote prooemia to speeches meant
for the assembly. While the main concern of the rhetoricians was the forensic
speech, the politician Critias took an interest in persuasion of the masses.
The radicalism of Critias is by no means typical of the sophistic movement
in the late fifth century. We must not see supermen everywhere in their notion
‘ Passages cited in NESTLE (v. inf.), 400. 5.
? A fragment on papyrus (nr. 165 P.) in D. 1. PAGE, Greek Lit. Pap. 1950, 120. Ending
of the hypothesis to the Rhadamanthys: Pap. Soc. It. 12/2. 1951, nr. 1286.
358
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

of natural law: with equal justice we might trace to this idea the whole ordering
of society and the validity of the state and its laws. In its political application it
meant that one did not have to be an oligarch to support the new order.
Fortunately our picture is made more detailed by a treatise of which large
sections have been preserved by the Neoplatonist Iamblichus in his Protrepticus.
The writer is usually referred to as the Anonymus Iamblichi.! His world-view no
longer turns on the crude antithesis of physis and nomos. Instead he treats law
as a natural necessity, as an indispensable prerequisite to the forming of a
community. Education - to which as a sophist he attaches great importance — is
for him education to understand and obey the laws. The train of thought goes
back to Protagoras.
A similar spirit is displayed by a work which has been imitated in various
passages of the pseudo-Demosthenic speech Against Aristogiton.? Its author — not
a distinguished intellect — piles up with disorderly enthusiasm the most diverse
theories on the origin of law: a gift of the gods; the invention of clever indivi-
duals; the common consent of the citizen body.
We have a rather unsatisfactory piece of work in a treatise that survives in
the manuscripts of Sextus Empiricus, called from its most important section
Acocot Adyor. It is written in Doric, refers to the Spartan victory of 404 as a
recent event, and is probably a transcript of a sophist’s lecture. In five chapters
it supports the teaching of Protagoras in various departments by giving opposite
examples to every custom or opinion that it mentions. The development of
Ionian ethnography is strikingly apparent here. One of these antitheses deserves
to survive as an illustration of Greek humanity: “The Scythians hold it praise-
worthy for a man who has slain another to hang the scalp on his saddle-bow,
to set the skull in gold or silver and to drink from it or offer it to the gods: in
Greece no man would go under the same roof with one who had done such a
thing’. Four further chapters are devoted to the educational tasks of the sophists,
to an attack on choice for political office by lot (written from a democratic
standpoint) and to various questions of rhetoric, by which the sophists set such
store.

Texts of the sophists: VS and in M. UNTERSTEINER, Sofisti. Testimonianze e

frammenti. Bibl. d. stud. sup. vols. 4-6. Florence 1949 and 1954 (with bibliography
and comm.). A. CAPIZZ1, Protagora. Ed. rivista @ amplif. con-un studio su la vita, le
opere, il pensiero e la fortuna. Florence 1955. — Text of the rhetors in L. RADER-
MACHER, Artium scriptores. Sitzb. Oesterr. Ak. 227/3, 1951.— Gorgias: W. VOLL-
GRAFF, L’Oraison funebre de Gorgias. Leyden 1952. — Antiphon: L. GERNET, Coll.
des Un. de Fr. 1923; repr. 1954. A. BARIGAZZI, Florence 1955 (nos. 1 and 6 with
comm.). Index by F. L. VAN CLEEF, Cornell Studies in Class. Philol. 5, 1895. -

t VS 89. R. ROLLER, Untersuchungen zum Anonymus Iamblichi. Tiibingen 1931.

2 M. GIGANTE, Nopos Baoweds. Naples 1956, thinks that the writer of the speech made
the compilation himself.
339
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Andocides: G. DALMEYDA, Coll. des Un. de Fr. 1930; repr. 1960. A. D. J. MAK-
KINK, Amsterdam 1932 (no. 1 with comm.). U. ALBINI, Andocide, De reditu.
Florence 1961 (with comm.). — Special studies: w. NESTLE, Vom Mythos zum
Logos. Stuttg. 1940. O. GIGON, Sokrates. Berne 1947, 240. M. UNTERSTEINER,
I sofisti. Einaudi 1949; Eng. tr. Oxf. 1954 (with good bibliogr.). E. WOLF,
Griechisches Rechtsdenken. 2 vols. Frankf. a. M. 1952. M. GIGANTE, Nopos BaatAevs,
Naples 1956. — G. M. scracca, Gli dei in Protagora. Palermo 1958. — F. ZUCKER,
Der Stil des Gorgias nach seiner inneren Form. Sitzb. Ak. Berl. 1956/1. CARLA
SCHICK, ‘Appunti per una storia della prosa greca’. Paideia 11, 1956, 161. W.
BROCKER, ‘Gorgias contra Parmenidem’. Herm. 86, 1958, 424. V. BUCHHEIT,
Untersuchungen zur Theorie des Genos Epideiktikon von Gorgias bis Aristoteles.
Munich 1960. J. H. M. M. LOENEN, Parmenides, Melissus, Gorgias. A Reinterpretation
of Eleatic Philosophy. 1960. — U. ALBINI, ‘ Antifonte logografo I’. Maia N.S. 10,
1958, 38. — U. ALBINI, ‘Rassegna di studi andocidei’. Atene e Roma 3, 1958, 129.
Id., ‘Per un profilo di Andocide’. Maia N.S. 8, 1956, 163.

2 EBURIPTIDES

In connection with Sophocles we mentioned the synchronism which related

the three great men of tragedy in various ways with the battle of Salamis. The
story that Euripides should have been born on the day of the battle is certainly
fictitious, for other dates are also given. The one in the Marmor Parium (60),
giving 485/484, is perhaps equally doubtful, as it is synchronous with Aeschylus’
first victory,! but it is probably not far from correct. However this may be,
it is of special significance that Euripides belongs to a generation which knows
of the great years of the Persian wars only from their fathers’ stories. Euripides
was approximately of the same age as Protagoras, and even though the difference
with Sophocles, born 497/496, is not very great, in the tempestuous development
which began in the middle of the sth century a decade meant already a great
deal. It is decisive that Sophocles maintained his faith unshaken and remained
consistently averse to the revolutionizing process of the intellect by the sophistic
movement, whilst the attitude of his younger contemporary was different. But
the notion that Euripides was simply the poet of Greek enlightenment, as he
was occasionally called, must be rejected. Even ancient tradition assigned
Anaxagoras, Prodicus and Protagoras to him as teachers. Of course he knew
these men and also many other personalities of intellectual Athens, and in
individual cases there may have been closer ties, but Euripides was neither
simply a pupil of the sophists nor a propagandist of their ideas. He was open to
their influence, their problems were largely his, but he always preserved the
independence of his thought, while he frequently was outspokenly critical,” so
that there is no question of a pupil relationship with the sophists, but rather of
an incessant passionate altercation with the movement.
' On these chronological fancies Fr. JacoBy, F Gr Hist, Comm. on 239 A 50. 63 and 244
F 35. Ancient sources for the biography in the ed. of A. NAUCK, Leipz. 1871. The manu-
script biography best in the ed. of the scholia of8.scHWARTZ, Berl. 1887/91.
2 Cf. Hec. 1187 against rhetorical artifices and fr. 439.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Great intellectual restlessness is generally the hallmark of Euripides and his
work. This is movingly expressed by the bust of Euripides in Naples, and the
hero of the tragedy Bellerophon, who wants to assault heaven on Pegasus to
fathom the gods’ secrets, becomes symbolic of the poet himself.
Hardly any figure in ancient literature is so hard to comprehend in his many
aspects as Euripides. Many of the features of his work belong to the previous
period; nevertheless the sublime compactness displayed in the Parthenon as well
as in Sophocles’ mature tragedies is beginning to break up. The fervour of
blazing passion stands side by side with a rationalism alien to the plot; hymns
are sung to the same gods who elsewhere are relegated to the realm of fables,
and everywhere a great many more questions are asked than answered with
certainty. Such a strong differentiation in Euripides’ work, which is allied with
an inequality of artistic value, forbids us to look for a uniform formula of
explanation. All we are able to do is to group together related phenomena.
Both in his work and in the way he lived Euripides demonstrated that with
him a new period was beginning. Aeschylus fought for his country as a soldier,
Sophocles performed a number of high offices, but Euripides had no such ties
with the polis. He repeatedly took a stand in his dramas on matters of public
life, forcing arguments about such problems upon his artistic work with much
greater unconcern than his predecessors; but in such cases he speaks as the
inquiring thinker and not as the polites who is an immediate partner, like
Aeschylus in the Eumenides or Sophocles in the first stasimon of the Antigone.
During the Hellenistic age and under the empire strangers were conducted
to a cave in Salamis’ in which Euripides was supposed to have contemplated
the mysteries of life, far from men, his gaze directed at the sea. This sort of
abode for great poets and thinkers is part and parcel of legendary tales, but the
story is typical for the image which had been formed of Euripides. Creative
genius now withdrew into an isolation which had previously been unknown
and which opened up a wide, often fateful, gap between the great man and his
people.
Such a position of the poet and the circumstance that many thoughts of the
sophists were reflected in his verse combined to make him the chief object of
the indignation and ridicule of the conservatives during that brief and exciting
time. Comedy is full of it. The deplorable result for us is that the few available
biographical details of this poet are even more cluttered up with anecdotal
rubbish than usual. The Lives preserved in some manuscripts are a good example
of this, but the Euripides biography of the Peripatetic Satyrus is an exceptional
one. A papyrus (no. 1135 P) of the concluding portion ofhis 6th book of Lives
gives us a vivid impression of this kind of scribbling, and it is distressing to find
that he uses Aristophanes’ Thesmophoriazusae as a historical source. He even has
some literary pretensions, for he wrote the biography as a dialogue.
In view of such a tradition it would be unmethodical to claim at will that
either one or another story is historical. We shall have to accept the fact that
there is little that can be considered without suspicion.
' Life. Satyrus col. 9 Gellius 15. 20, 5. H. GERSTINGER, Wien. Stud, 38, 1916, 65.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The poet’s father was the landowner Mnesarchus or Mnesarchides, his

mother was called Clito; comedy turned her into a shopkeeper or greengrocer.
The parents came from the Attic deme of Phlya, but the poet was born on his
parents’ property in Salamis. The story that his father first had him trained in
gymnastics, because an oracle had promised him athletic victories, is one of the
many tales of misinterpreted oracles. He is also supposed to have been a painter.
The information in the biography that there had been pictures by him in Megara
sounds quite definite, but in such cases the possibility of a similarity of names
should be taken into account. The most reliable information is that Euripides,
when young, was a dancer and torchbearer in the service of Apollo Zosterius,
since the purpose of inventing this sort of thing would be hard to understand.
The most evil libel, and one upon which comedy pounced with gusto, was
levelled at the poet’s home. First he married Melito, next Choerine; he had some
unpleasant experiences in his married life, connected with a member of his
household Cephisophon, who occasionally helped Euripides with his writing,
but also assisted in other ways.
The profound difference between Sophocles, whose life was so solidly founded
in the Athenian community, and Euripides, is also expressed in the different
relationship of the two with their audience. Euripides was granted his first
chorus in 455, but he was not successful. Among the plays performed was the
Peliades, the poet’s first Medea play. The theme of the drama was the cruel and
crafty vengeance which Medea took on Pelias of Iolcus on behalf of Jason.
Medea had promised that she would restore his youth by boiling him, and so
the old king was killed by his own daughters.
According to the evidence of the Marmor Parium (60), Euripides did not win
his first victory until 441.1 Three more were added, which is little enough, for
we know that he obtained a chorus for 22 tetralogies. Individual sources mention
five victories, but these include the posthumous ones which his son of the same
name or his nephew? won with the remaining plays Iphigeneia in Aulis, Alcmeon
in Corinth and the Bacchae.
The public’s opposition against Euripides is supposed to have resulted in an
indictment for impiety by Cleon, but Satyrus is very suspect as a source. In
spite of all distortion, however, some historical basis seems to be present here in
the final analysis. Aristotle (Rhet. 3, 15. 1416 a 29) knows of a lawsuit of the
poet's against a certain Hygiaenon about an exchange of property (antidosis) on
the occasion of a public service (liturgy), in which aspersions against the poet’s
atheism are supposed to have also played a part.
An Epinician Ode on an Olympic victory in chariot racing, probably won
by Alcibiades at Olympia in 416,3 is attributed to Euripides; we have half a
dozen lines of it (fr. 3 D.), but from Plutarch’s Demosthenes we learn that in

‘ C.F, RUSSO, ‘Eur. e i concorsi tragici lenaici’. Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 165 gives the dates
of performances which can still be ascertained, and attempts to prove with detailed argu-
ments that it is extremely unlikely that the poet participated in the contests of the Lenaea.
Son: Schol. Aristophanes’ Frogs 67. Nephew: Suidas.
3 C. M. BOWRA, ‘Epinician for Alcibiades’. Historia 9, 1960, 68.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

antiquity it was ascribed to others as well. A closer connection of the poet with
Alcibiades is not very probable in view of the difference in character of the two
men.
It is credible that the Athenians commissioned the poet of the Troades with
the composition of the epitaph for those fallen at Syracuse. The epigram trans-
mitted in Plutarch’s Nicias (17) is extremely colourless, however.
Euripides, like Aeschylus, died abroad. In 408 he still staged his Orestes in
Athens, but soon afterwards he moved to Archelaus’ court in Pella. The
manuscript biography makes the Macedonian sojourn follow upon one in
Magnesia which is supposed to have honoured him with the proxeny and
freedom from taxes. We do not even know which Magnesia is meant, and it is
best to keep open the possibility that the report has been brought about by an
inscription honouring the poet.
Archelaus, with whom Euripides passed the remaining years of his life, had
the ambition to adorn his court, whose customs we must imagine as quite
barbarian, with great names. Several are mentioned, among them the tragic
poet Agathon and the dithyrambic poet Timotheus who, as a modernist, is
supposed to have been very close to Euripides.
In Euripides’ case it is demonstrated to what extent the death of great
men is a theme irresistible to the anecdote-mongers. He is supposed to have
been torn to pieces by Molossian hounds, offspring of a royal hound, for
the killing of which the poet had obtained remission of punishment. The
tearing up by dogs is probably meant as a punishment for the atheist, just
as, according to the legend, Euripides’ grave and his cenotaph were struck by
lightning.
News of the poet’s death reached Athens early in 406 before the great
Dionysia. It sounds credible that in the proagon, a sort of introduction of the
performers of the plays to be staged, Sophocles himself appeared in mourning
and brought in the actors and chorus without wreaths. Archelaus is said to have
buried the poet in Pella, but there are also reports of a tomb at Arethusa. The
Athenian cenotaph on the way to the Piraeus has already been mentioned; it
displayed the fine verses which are found in the biography with the bold indica-
tion of authorship “Thucydides or Timotheus’.
The dates of performances handed down provide the first and most reliable
basis for the chronology of the 18 surviving plays (we consider the Rhesus to be
spurious); 438 Alcestis, 431 Medea, 428 Hippolytus, 415 Troades, 412 Helen, 408
Orestes; we also know that the Iphigenia in Aulis and the Bacchae were not
performed until after the poet’s death. Another important basis is supplied by
comedy, whose allusions to Euripides are particularly frequent and cutting, and
at times provide a definite terminus ante quem. Allusions to contemporary
events, however, rarely yield reliable chronological support. Recently doubts
have even been cast on the bearing which the lines spoken by the Dioscuri at the
end of the Electra before their exit have on Athens’ fleet in Sicilian waters. In
recent years considerations of this nature have sometimes been carried a great
deal too far and Euripides’ tragedies have been interpreted as if they were
363
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

history in disguise.' There is no doubt that the third of the great tragedians
addresses his contemporaries from the stage more often than his predecessors,
but tangible political allusions do not occur very frequently, and respect for his
artistry should restrain one from seeking key figures in contemporary history
among the persons of the drama. Style and metre are also chronological aids,
though they should not be overestimated. But it is an undeniable fact that in
Euripides’ copious output related phenomena, especially with regard to themes,
form groups which belong together in time.
The chronology of Euripides’ tragedies, for which we have fairly firm
foundations, reveals that none of the plays preserved is older than the Alcestis
which was performed in 438. At the time Euripides had been writing for the
stage for seventeen years, and so in this case also the possibility is denied to us
of studying his early work.
We know from a hypothesis that the Alcestis was the fourth play in a tetra-
logy; it occurred in a position where we are accustomed to find a satyr-play.
There is reason to believe that this is not the only case in which Euripides
finished off his tetralogy with a play with a happy ending instead of a satyr-
play. He was not gifted with the bright vivacity which still delights us in the
Ichneutae and the Dictyulci; this is proved by the Cyclops, whose wit 1s of a
different kind.
The position of the Alcestis in the tetralogy has been felt as a challenge to find
as much of the comic or even burlesque in it as possible; in these attempts the
character of this fine work, which has been so fertile in the literature of the
world, has often been misunderstood.
Euripides took a legend which connects two widespread fairy-tale themes
into an exciting whole. It is the story of the loving wife who offers her own life
when death comes to claim her husband’s. There is also the victorious struggle,
used here as the dénouement, of the strong man with the demon of death, a
theme which occurs frequently alone or in a different connection. Phrynichus
had used the subject of Alcestis before, and his influence seems to have lingered
in the scenes of Euripides’ drama which deal with the arrival and the conquest
of Thanatos, death personified. Without essentially altering the substance of the
legend, Euripides created, in one stroke, spiritual conditions which were entirely
new. In the old legend, and probably in Phrynichus too, the bride announced
her willingness for the sacrifice on her wedding day, and already had to carry
it out as well; but Euripides separated the two events by a period of several years,
during which Alcestis fully experienced the happiness of being a wife and a
mother. The question of cold reason, how Alcestis could have done this with
the appointed day of death ahead of her, misunderstands the nature of the work.
The poet was concerned with what he could gain by this bold stroke; his
Alcestis sacrifices her life, as she once promised on her wedding day, but now
in the full awareness of what she is leaving and giving up.
The play opens with the effective contrast between Apollo, the radiant god,
" B, DELEBECQUE, Eur. et la guerre du Péloponnése. Paris 1951, goes farthest. Also contains
further bibl.

364
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
and Thanatos, who has come to claim his victim. The Delphic temple scene of
the Eumenides is influential in this confrontation of two gods from separate
worlds. The chorus of old men of Pherae enters singing of care and grief: a
servant informs them that inside the house Alcestis is bidding farewell to her
home and family. This early messenger speech of Euripides’ already demon-
strates the epic mastery which he always maintained in the narrative portions of
his plays. After a choral lyric, husband and wife enter and we witness the last
words and lament of Alcestis, and her death. The very next episode brings
Heracles, the saviour, who, on his way to one of his adventures, wants to call in
on Admetus. The latter keeps silent about his bereavement in order to be able
to entertain his guest-friend. The funeral procession is forming when Admetus’
father enters with gifts for the dead woman. Here we become acquainted with
the full development of an important element which recurs constantly; the
scene of conflict, the agon; in a lucid, formal order, especially through a well-
calculated alternation of long speech and stichomythia with its hard-hitting
succession of lines, two parties settle the contest of words, using all arguments
possible. The world of the dvacol Adyou opened up by the sophists has been given
dramatic form. Pheres has refused to sacrifice his own life for his son’s and is now
blamed by him for his thirst for life, but Admetus has in turn to hear himself
accused of letting his wife die through his unscrupulous egotism. After the agon,
the funeral procession, and the chorus with it, leaves the stage, one of the rare
cases of its being empty after the chorus’s parodos. Heracles, who has meanwhile
been merrily carousing inside, learns the true state of affairs from a servant. He
sets out at once to fight Thanatos for his prey, and when Admetus returns from
the tomb and is lamenting distractedly in front of the palace, Heracles brings
him his wife, restored to life. Admetus has yet to stand up to a minor intrigue,
when Heracles pretends that Alcestis, who is wearing a veil, is a strange woman
and so tests his constancy, but then the happily reunited couple are allowed to
cross the threshold of the palace to start a new life.
The Alcestis at once poses the basic problems of Euripidean tragedy with full
sharpness. There is no need to waste many words over the fact that the gods
have no longer the same meaning as for Aeschylus or for Sophocles in the
Oedipus tragedies. Man with his troubles and fears, his hopes and plans, has taken
up the centre of the stage. But how are they viewed by Euripides? No doubt
psychological processes play a great part in his work, but is it therefore per-
missible to call him the discoverer of psychology in drama? And is it indeed
psychology which is the motive power in his plays?
The Alcestis demonstrates in a special manner the difficulties into which
modern notions and demands get us. There is Alcestis, the loving wife, who
sacrifices herself
forher husband. But where does she speak of her love? The poet
shows her farewell to life twice, through the servant’s message and in Alcestis’
great scene. The accents in the two passages are different: in the messenger-
speech it is one of tender lament; in the death-scene, after the lyrically expressed
vision of fear, there occurs that lucid deliberation and summing up of the
sacrifice which she is making which has astonished readers time and again. But
N 305
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

nowhere does Alcestis speak of the ardour which impels her to bring this
sacrifice, nowhere do we hear the words which we expect from a loving wife.
But it is the figure of Admetus which proves to be the greatest stumbling-block
for moderns. How can a man be taken seriously who lets his wife die for him
and then implores her, when she is dying, not to leave him, a man who fills his
palace and the city with his lament over his fate and who would like to be
pitied over what he got out of it!
The interpretations of the difficulties presented here deviate from each other
in a way which is typical for the general criticism of Euripides.
The best way of acquiring a personal point of view is to establish first what
are the most extreme positions taken with regard to these difficulties. For a long
time present-day critics have sought between the lines the psychology not given
directly by the text, and have made this part of their interpretation. Much of
this sort of thing is found in Wilamowitz,! who claimed, for instance, that
Alcestis had lost many an illusion and would not have repeated her promise to
sacrifice herself. This method still has its representatives now and is particularly
emphatic in Van Lennep’s book on Euripides and his edition of the Alcestis. Of
course Admetus comes off very badly, and the couple’s future life does not bode
well.
This kind of interpretation is rare now; the conviction has gained ground
that such psychologizing completely misses the meaning of the ancient poet. So
the pendulum has swung over to the other side, and Walter Ziircher could
undertake, in his stimulating book Darstellung des Menschen im Drama des
Euripides, the attempt to limit the psychological element in this poet consider-
ably, and even to deny it altogether in important cases. Following the interpreta-
tion of Sophocles as defended by Tycho von Wilamowitz, Ziircher opposes the
view that Euripides’ characters are drawn completely. The dramatic character
is rather secondary to the plot, and is merely a function of the dramatic fable.
Presently we shall have to protest in cases where this view was pushed too far,
even to the point of finally tearing great Euripidean characters to pieces. But
something essential has been achieved; in Euripides’ portrayal of man it is not
so much a matter of character in the sense of modern individualism as of general
human ways of reacting to hate and love, sorrow and joy. In this realm Euripides
is a master; he unlocked great realms of the soul for the dramatic stage, and to
this extent it is justifiable to speak of the importance of psychology in his work.
Long ago J. Burckhardt aptly formulated his difference from Sophocles in this
regard:* °So whereas Sophocles is always preoccupied with the entirety ofacharacter,
Euripides has sometimes a way ofexploiting the emotions of a single person in a certain
scene down to the last detail. . .’.
As to the offence which the Alcestis gives to our modern way of thinking, both
the origin of the subject matter and the convention of ancient drama should be
borne in mind. The heroine’s reasoning, which often appears to be cold-blooded,
1 Griech. Trag. 3, 87.
* Griech. Kulturgesch, 2,306 (Kroner). Nowadays we should prefer to say ‘Ethos’ in the
case of Sophocles rather than ‘Character’.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
corresponds with the typically Greek craving to give an account of oneself, and
suits this mature woman. Sophocles’ Antigone does the same thing and she too
has caused displeasure.
But the figure of Admetus presents any poet with almost unsurmountable
difficulties. In a recent important paper! K. v. Fritz has made an acute appraisal
of the way in which this character in Euripides offends our sensibilities. The view
can hardly be accepted that this sort of criticism was beyond the possibilities of
the fifth century, for in the agon Pheres (drawn to be utterly distasteful) voices
reproaches which are like ours. K. v. Fritz has formulated a notion which is
useful for large portions of Euripides’ work; when Euripides’ art converted
ancient legendary subject matter and thus opened up new vision of the psyche,
dissonances were bound to occur. There is no denying that these are found in
the Alcestis. But the question remains whether they were called up by the poet’s
original intention or were the inevitable consequence of his creative method.
We are not looking for a general answer which at any rate would not apply to
part of Euripides’ work, but are of the opinion that in the case of Admetus the
poet has done a great deal to make the hospitable king, loved by Apollo and
truly sorrowful, into a tolerable, if not lovable, figure. Does not Alcestis’ parting
from her marriage bed, as related by the servant, reflect upon the husband? But
one has no right to deny meaning to her words that she would not have wanted
to live without Admetus (v. 287), because she mentions the orphaned children
in the same breath. The words which he utters on his return from the tomb
(v. 940): ‘Now I realize’, are important too; they may not indicate a reversal,
they do imply understanding. Of course the poet could not motivate Admetus’
acceptance of the sacrifice. He was therefore wise not to attempt to do this and
to limit himself to the ancient legend. But he did show — and this was a new
element — that the sacrifice turned against him with bitter sorrow when he had
accepted it. But we can only take his grief seriously or rejoice in his redemption
if we see more in Admetus than a deplorable egotist who avoids death by sacri-
ficing his wife. We have no wish to evade the difficulty of these questions by
taking cover behind Goethe’s authority, but his farce Gétter, Helden und Wieland
is valid testimony that such a point of view is possible.
Of the three tragedies which preceded the Alcestis the first, the Cretan
Women, deals with the story of Minos’ granddaughter Aerope whom her father
Catreus ordered to be drowned by Nauplius because of her unchastity. The latter,
however, married her to Plisthenes. Correct utilization of the fragments of the
Alcmeon in Psophis* has provided a better notion of the contents of this play. Its
central theme is the faith which Arsinoe, who has a sisterly kinship with Alcestis,
preserved for the exiled and inconstant Alcmeon. The third play, Telephus,3
' ‘Euripides “Alkestis’’ und ihre modernen Nachahmer und Kritiker.’ Ant. u. Abendl.
5, 1956, 27. Now Antike und moderne Tragodie. Berlin 1962, 256.
2 Ww. SCHADEWALDT, ‘Zu einem Florentiner Papyrusbruchstiick aus dem ‘‘Alkmeon in
Psophis”’ des Eur.’. Herm. 80, 1952, 46; now Hellas und Hesperien. Ziirich 1960, 316.
3 Important for the reconstruction: E. W. HANDLEY-J. REA, ‘The Telephus of Eur.’. Univ.
of Lond. Bull. ofInst. of Class. Stud. Suppl. 5, 1957, with new papyrus fragments and proof
that Pap. Berol. 9908 (Berl. Klass. Texte 5/2, p. 64) belongs to this play and not to Sophocles’.
367
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

created quite a stir. The king of the Mysians obtained by force a cure of the
wound inflicted by Achilles by stealthily entering the Greek camp in Argos
in beggar’s clothes and threatening the little Orestes. A king in rags was an
unheard-of thing on the Attic stage of the time.
In the year 431 Euripides was allotted third place in the contest with the
Medea, which nowadays we count among his masterpieces. In this case he once
again penetrated more deeply into the ancient legend, giving it a turn which
was of supreme importance for the depiction of the emotions. In Corinth a
tomb of Medea’s children was known, and there probably was also a version of
the tale of her killing them by mistake when she attempted to make them
immortal.! Out of this grew Euripides’ murderess of her own children who in a
violent passion exacted vengeance for Jason’s infidelity. It is plausible that the
children’s murder as the revenge of a jilted woman was modelled after the
myth of Procne and Tereus, but Sophocles’ Tereus need not have had any
influence. The information in the hypothesis that Euripides fashioned his play
after a Medea of Neophron is unreliable; the remnants of this drama indicate
that this playwright was rather the imitator who wanted to improve on
Euripides.*
The plot of the Medea is contrived with an art which makes the final catas-
trophe appear inevitable. The Colchian princess, who followed Jason on all his
wanderings as far as Corinth, sees herself betrayed and exposed to misery for
the sake of the local ruler’s daughter. At the beginning of the play, after an
exposition in the prologue by the Nurse and a scene which shows the children,
we hear the cries and curses of the deserted woman from inside the house. But
then she appears composedly before the chorus of Corinthian women, speaking
to them of the general lot of women and her personal fate. In Euripides rational
statement maintained its right even in plays of the most violent passion; nor
can it be denied that the poet manages to effect considerable contrasts through
the alternation of emotion and reason, or effective climaxes by reversing this
order.
Medea is bent on revenge, although she does not yet see her way clear. She
advances step by step. She has to pledge the chorus to silence, a concession to the
conventions of the stage. In itself it would be credible that women should
support a woman, but that these Corinthians should aid a barbarian against
their own royal house is something we have to accept for the sake of the play.
Ina scene with Creon Medea makes sure that her impending exile is postponed
for one day. Next there follows the great agon between her and Jason, which
does not advance the plot — such verbal contests seldom do — but we get to know
the man who excuses with smooth words his betrayal of the woman who once
saved his life. In the next scene the Athenian king Aegeus, on his way home from
the Delphic oracle, passes across the stage rather like a comet. The episodic

ITREST SOR OAs

? On the Tereus: W. BUCHWALD, Studien zur Chronologie der att. Trag. 455 bis 431. Diss.
K6nigsb. 1939, 35. Neophron: p. L. PAGE in his ed. of the play (v. inf.), xxx. K. V. FRITZ,
Antike und moderne Tragddie. Berl. 1962, 334 considers Neophron’s priority.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
quality of this part has often been censured, but Aegeus’ promise of a place of
refuge for Medea supports the next part of the plot. It is possible that the Aegeus
preceded the Medea, which showed Medea at the king’s court in Athens and
staged her assault upon Theseus’ stepson. In this case this scene in the Medea
would have been connected with a situation which the audience knew.
Now Medea’s plan is ready: through her sons she will send presents to the
young bride who will die miserably, and then she will kill her own children.
She makes sure of Jason with a pretence of conciliation, and the fateful gifts find
their way to Creusa. After a brief choral lyric, which, as often, covers a pro-
longed period of time, the children come back from the palace. Medea now
knows that the boys, as the bringers of the lethal gifts, are lost, and even though
her strength threatens to weaken, she now has to do under the coercion of the
situation what she had planned initially as a deed of her own volition. Already
the messenger arrives and reports the agonies of the deaths of Creon and
Creusa; Medea strikes the mortal blow which she knows will strike at her own
heart. Jason dashes up too late. He is only met with taunts of triumph over his
misery.
No other Greek tragedy, except possibly the Hippolytus, is moved to such an
extent by the forces which rise from man’s soul to exert a demoniacal influence.
This agrees with the fact that here, as nowhere else, Euripides displayed in the
monologue the soul as the stage of opposing forces. This occurs in three speeches
(364. 1021. 1236); these may be regarded as monologues, in spite of an occasional
word addressed to the chorus (1043), since the purpose is not to impart informa-
tion, but to reveal personal thought and struggle. The central one of these three
is filled with the strongest emotion, and is exceptional in Greek tragedy. Four
times Medea changes her mind: the violent yearning for revenge, the love of
her children, the knowledge of the certain catastrophe in the palace and its
consequences meet on the battlefield of her soul. The victory goes to the realisa-
tion that the children are lost in any case, but in her final words Medea reveals
the forces whose conflict has produced all this: an ardent heart (@vyés) and con-
sideration (BovAevpara); the latter’s defeat is the cause of man’s worst evils.
Some of the questions posed with regard to the Alcestis crop up again. Even
ancient critics, whom we detect in the hypothesis and the scholia on line 922,
have denied to a Medea who weeps over her children but kills them neverthe-
less the unity of her nature. Modern critics have followed this view and expressed
the opinion that his figure is split up into its component parts. They misjudge
the poet, who knew more of the human soul than his critics who would like to
set their limits so narrowly. Extravagant hatred for the traitor and tender love
for the children, and much else that is as distinct as fire from water, can very
well find its place in one human soul. The influence of this figure in world
literature, comparable with little else, is certain proof of the grandeur and
rightness of its conception.
One fact, however, cannot be denied: our sympathy for Medea suffering in
distress and guilt is extinguished when the magic chariot of her grandfather
Helius comes to fetch her away. Here she is removed from the sphere of human
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understanding and pity, her demoniacal triumph separates her from our world.
The dramatic poet gained an effective conclusion, but that is not all. In the words
which she speaks from the magic vehicle (it must be imagined aloft, for instance
on the roof of the skene), she founds the cult of her children, which actually
existed in Corinth. This is a typical feature, for the endings of Euripides’
tragedies refer quite often back to existing cults, in spite of all the freedom of
presentation, as if the purpose had been none else but to explain their origin.
In 431 the Medea was followed by a performance of the Philoctetes, which was
discussed in connection with Sophocles’ use of the subject matter, and a third
play, the Dictys, with the adventure of Danae in Seriphus, where she was
oppressed by king Polydectes and rescued by her son Perseus when he returned
from the adventure with the Gorgon.
In the Hippolytus, performed in 428, the scene in which Phaedra, ravaged by
her passion, reveals her secret, is followed (373) in the true Euripidean manner
by a quiet reflection on how man comes to sin. Phaedra opposes the dictum
that guilt grows from defective awareness; rather do most people know what
is right, but the temptation to evil pleasures is stronger. It has rightly been
observed! that a polemic against Socrates’ doctrine of knowledge of virtue is
implied. But it also becomes clear that Phaedra’s words point out that under-
standing and passion are the same opposites which Medea’s great soliloquy
mentioned as the guiding forces of her fate. In fact, with the Hippolytus we are
not only very close to the Medea in time; the two tragedies, about which we
shall have more to say, represent a part of Euripides’ work in which the tragic
conflict arises with particular intensity out of the elemental forces of human
passion.
A few years earlier Euripides had already put on the stage in Athens the story
of Minos’ daughter Phaedra, Theseus’ wife, whose consuming passion for her
stepson destroys both him and herself. In this play Phaedra offered her love to
her stepson without any restraint; he covered up his head in horror, from which
the play was called Hippolytus Calyptomenus; we get some idea of it from parts
of Seneca’s Phaedra, Ovid’s 4th Epistula Heroidum and some small fragments.
Until very recently modern man could hardly imagine narrative and dramatic
literature without love as the central theme, and one seldom pauses to think
how great a part Euripides played in the progress of this motif. The radical
manner in which he showed on the stage things which were completely new
there, greatly alarmed and shocked the Athenians. Frequent evidence of this
is found in comedy. The first Hippolytus was rejected. The second, however,
which was given the additional name of Stephanephorus or Stephanias, gained its
author a victory in 428.
" BR. SNELL, ‘Das fritheste Zeugnis iiber Sokrates’. Phil. 97, 1948, 125.
* W. H. FRIEDRICH, Unters. zu Sen. dram. Technik. Leipz. 1933, 24; the same in the above-
mentioned book, 118, in which he tries (148), to date the first Hippolytus in the Dionysia
of the year 434 on the grounds of the lunar eclipse in Sen. Phaedra 788. On the modelling
of the subject matter by Seneca cf. also FRIEDRICH and K. V. FRITZ in the papers mentioned
in the bibl. of the play; also cr. zinrzeNn, Analytisches Hypomnema zu Senecas Phaedra.
Beitr. z. klass. Phil. 1. Meisenheim 1960.
370
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
We can ascertain that the recasting was achieved by the figure of Phaedra.
Now she is not the wanton Cretan who only recognizes the commands of her
passion, here she is the noble woman who wishes to conceal her sinful desire
deep in her soul, even if she should perish through it. The new version of the
play possibly lost some of its elemental force; the contrast of the two main
characters perhaps emerged more forcefully in the first conception, but it was a
substantial deepening of the tragic contents that the chaste young man was now
faced by a noble woman who was to be defeated in the struggle with the demon
in her own breast and to ruin her whole house with herself.
The poet shows her sick and prepared for death, and in this condition she
allows her secret to be wrested from her by the worried nurse. Euripides drew
this figure with great subtlety, so that the transition from the initial horror of the
simple woman to pandering helpfulness appears to be credible. But the Nurse’s
well-meaning services turn out to be harmful; Hippolytus feels only horror and
loathing at her revelations, and Phaedra, who overhears him, knows that all is
lost. Now she takes the way which from the very outset had appeared as the
only one open to her, death. The letter which she leaves behind accusing
Hippolytus of attempting to dishonour her and thus drawing him to ruin with
her, was no doubt more plausible in the first version, since it corresponded with
the characterization of Phaedra. But in the second Hippolytus it can be under-
stood from the boundless bitterness of a woman spurned, threatened with
humiliation in spite of her self-control and her pride of virtue. In the analysis
we can separate the motives and observe that Phaedra goes to her death
for the sake of her honour and leaves the fateful letter behind because of her
longing for revenge, but the unity of her personality is called no more into
question by this than Medea’s was by the conflict of her emotions.
The position of the gods in this play, which is conceived entirely as arising
out of human nature, is curious and difficult. Aphrodite opens it with her speech
in the prologue, Artemis concludes it as the dea ex machina. Artemis has been
fitted in more firmly and with more meaning. Through her, Hippolytus’ nature
is revealed with a directness which a poet of his time could only achieve in this
way. The passages in which Euripides describes the relationship of the chaste
young man with his goddess belong to the finest he ever wrote. This happens in
the scene following Aphrodite’s prologue, in which he honours Artemis with
a wreath from a pure untrodden meadow. But this scene also reveals the one-
sidedness of his nature which the Greeks called hybris. Hippolytus harshly
dismisses the old servant who points to Aphrodite as a goddess worthy of
veneration, thus renouncing a great force of real life which was divine to the
Greeks.
Artemis has special significance in the construction of the ending. Returning
from a long journey, Theseus has found Phaedra dead, with the letter of accusa-
tion next to her. So strong is its hold on him, that in the great agon he remains
deaf to all his son’s protestations; moreover, Hippolytus is bound by oath to
preserve silence about Phaedra’s motive. With one of the three wishes whose
fulfilment his father Poseidon has granted him, Theseus calls down perdition on
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

his son and banishes him from Troezen. The messenger-speech describes with
terrible precision how the gigantic bull sent by Poseidon made Hippolytus’
horses shy and caused his death. He is carried on to the stage as he is dying;
Artemis appears and bids her huntsman goodbye in lines of incomparable
tenderness, but then she reveals the truth to Theseus and founds the cult of
Hippolytus which existed at Troezen and which formed the starting-point of
the legend.
In the final scene just outlined, as well as in the prologue spoken by Aphro-
dite, there are passages which make the conflict appear to be a struggle between
the two goddesses for honour and precedence. How are we to interpret this in
this very drama which seems to be built so much on the human qualities of its
characters? Euripides by no means believed in the existence of such goddesses,
and the scenes in which they appear are removed from similar scenes in the
Oresteia or the opening scene of the Ajax with Athena by a deep gulf, i.e. the
influence of the sophists. Another extreme viewpoint must be rejected as well,
the interpretation which, following Verrall’s footsteps, sees in these divine
figures nothing but the poet’s protest against the tradition and an attempt to
reduce them to absurdity. As in all Euripidean questions there is no simple
formula by which to answer them; in the Hippolytus, however, Aphrodite and
Artemis are symbols adapted from popular beliefs, leading swiftly and directly
to an understanding of the basic forces which motivate the play.t The Athenian
audience understood them, while the pious could accept them as reality. They
must have contributed to the success of the surviving play, and it may be
suspected that they did not appear in the first version.
Euripides liked to vary a treatment which had proved successful. The Potiphar
theme was repeated in a tragedy which he wrote not long after, the Stheneboea,?
in which, however, Bellerophon does not fall a victim to the sin of a woman in
love, but punishes her with death by his own hand. We do not know what the
contents of the Peleus was, but it may have been based on the same theme and
portrayed the hero’s temptation by Astydamea in Iolcus.
The Phoenix showed the man whom we met as Achilles’ counsellor in the
Embassy in the Iliad, imperilled by the snares of love during the years of his
early manhood.
Other lost plays which are either earlier or whose date is uncertain follow
here because the erotic element predominated in them. In the Aeolus, the fairy-
tale from the Odyssey (10. 7) of the god of winds who married his sons with his
daughters, was turned into a story of incest. In the Cretan Men the passion of
Pasiphae, Minos’ wife, for the bull sent by Poseidon motivated the plot.3 The
Chrysippus, performed together with the Phoenissae, is certainly of a late date;
it owed its name to Pelops’ handsome son. Laius carried off the son of his guest-

' Similarly NORWOOD, Essays (v. inf.), 108.

2 B. ZUHLKE, ‘Eur. Stheneboia’. Phil. 105, 1961, 1.
3 A. RIVIER, ‘Eur. et Pasiphaé’. Lettres d’Occident. Etudes offerts 4 A. Bonnard. Neuchitel
1958, $1, tries to find in the remnants an interpretation which shows Pasiphae not as the
great sinner but as a tragic example.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
friend and so became doubly guilty, for Euripides condemns pederasty. Euri-
pides’ Antigone, which was later than Sophocles’, used Haemon’s love as the
motive which controlled the plot. In the Meleager the love of the hero of the
Calydonian boar-hunt for Atalante guided his destiny; of the Scyrians we know
that it contained Deidamea’s confinement and showed Achilles torn between
love and heroic glory.
To this group formed around the Medea and the Hippolytus we may add the
Hecabe because of the loftiness of its passion. It belongs in the twenties and is to
be dated before the Suppliant Women.‘ In this play particularly the question of
unity is raised which returns in other Euripidean tragedies. Those who like to
take the plays to pieces seem to find it very easy to detect two loosely connected
parts. The first could be called the Polyxena tragedy, in which Hecabe’s daughter
is sacrificed at the tomb of Achilles, approaching her bitter doom with noble
dignity. In the view of these critics the second part to be separated off is the
Polydorus tragedy. The unhappy queen of Troy has sent off her last son Poly-
dorus with some treasure to the Thracian king Polymestor, when the city of
Troy still stood. But the boy was murdered for the sake of the gold, and when
the Greeks, held up by contrary winds after the fall of Troy, are staying in the
Thracian Chersonnese, some Trojan women, fellow-prisoners of Hecabe, find
the corpse. Her grief is as boundless as her vengeance. She obtains Agamemnon’s
promise not to interfere and destroys Polymestor with a terrible ruse. She
entices him to come to her tent where the women kill the children and blind the
king.
No one will deny that two parts have been combined in this tragedy, but it
should not be disputed that the poet has succeeded in making them into a
unity. This is already apparent in the skilful and discreet manner in which he
never allows the spatial separation of the two scenes of action to become an
intrusive element. It is only when the various passages are critically analysed
that one is aware of the link between Achilles’ appearance and Polyxena’s
sacrifice with the funeral mound in the Troad, while the history of Polydorus
is placed in the environment of the Thracian Chersonnese.? At the end of the
plot Euripides has connected the parts with well-considered devices. The play
opens with a prologue spoken by Polydorus’ shade, anticipating the second
part which follows the Polyxena section. Misgivings about the boy’s fate occur
in the first part (429), and the dead body is found by the servant whom Hecabe
sent to the shore for water to wash Polyxena’s corpse. But the internal unity
effected by means of a well-planned climax carries more weight than these
connecting passages. Polyxena’s sacrifice is a terrible blow to this mater dolorosa
of the ancient myths, but as yet the girl’s noble attitude, admired even by the
enemy, alleviates her suffering to some extent (591). But Hecabe is overcome
by a wild despair when the sight of Polydorus’ corpse deprives her of her last
™ Opposing the late date assigned by ScHMID (3. 464): POHLENZ 2, 116 and LesKy, Trag.
Dichtung der Hell. Gott. 1956, 170, 2.
2 Cf. KL. JOERDEN, Hinterszenischer Raum und ausserszenische Zeit. Diss. Tiibingen 1960
(typescr.), 231.
N2 378
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

hope. After following her a long way along her via dolorosa we can understand
why this weary old woman, whom we saw tottering on to the stage after
Polydorus’ prologue, turns into an avenging demon who gloats over the
impotent raging of her victim. The Hecabe is not dominated by the forces of
the soul as completely as the Medea or the Hippolytus; external events have a
stronger influence, but in the end the flame of passion blazes with the same
sinister violence.
The Hecabe is well-suited to serve as an example of an important development
in Euripides’ tragedy. The chorus, made up of captured Trojan women, is given
only relatively short passages between the episodes. But this does not imply a
decline of the lyrical clement, it is the actors rather who now take far more of
the lyrical parts than in the older tragedy. After Polydorus’ shade has spoken at
the beginning, we hear Hecabe’s plaintive anapaests, followed by those of the
parodos in which the chorus announces Polyxena’s fate. This information
produces a lament first sung by Hecabe alone and then in alternation with her
daughter. The latter’s monody concludes the extensive lyrical structure.
It is characteristic of Euripides, however, that in this play, which abounds in
expressions of passionate emotions, there should occur also the dispassionate
reasonings of the reflecting mind. Even though there is a strong lyrical element
in it, the dialectical agon has been extended considerably. In the first part
Hecabe faces Odysseus who tears Polyxena away from her, in the second she
confronts the blinded Polymestor in a formal law-court session presided over
by Agamemnon.
Hecabe’s reasoning in lines 592 ff. is particularly characteristic. She has just
received the news of her daughter’s heroic death, upon which she launches forth
into reflections whose excursive nature she herself underlines powerfully by the
conclusion (603): unlike the fields which yield now good, now bad fruit, the
nature of a noble man is unchangingly firm. But here this aristocratic conviction
appears to be put to the question in a new way. What is the origin of this con-
stancy of nature? Is it determined by the parents, or a result of upbringing?
Euripides, who clearly speaks through Hecabe’s mouth, is still in doubt here,
but he will soon express himself decisively in favour of the new educational
optimism. Hardly anywhere else is it so conspicuous that the problems which
motivate Euripides are forced out in places where they achieve a curious
effect.
By the very nature of Euripides’ work his interpretation moves between
widely separated extremes. One group follows A. W. Schlegel’s lectures and
points out one fault after another in the poet, meanwhile forgetting what
Goethe told Eckermann,! that modern man should do this only in a kneeling
position. Others cannot bear any blemish on their tragedian, continuing, mostly
unconsciously, the onesided view of the new humanism with its overestimation
of the poet.
The Andromache cannot be considered a masterpiece when viewed without
prejudice. This was already the opinion of ancient critics, for remnants of a
T 28th March 1827.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
hypothesis, which probably goes back to Aristophanes of Byzantium, relegate the
play to the second rate. According to the scholium on line 445 the Andromache
was never performed in Athens. Modern commentators have had Argos or the
country of the Molossians in mind, but all that is conjecture. The same notice
dates the play in the first years of the Peloponnesian war.
In the beginning we see a tableau which returns in several Euripidean
tragedies,' some suppliants who have taken refuge at an altar to escape from their
oppressors. Such plays open with a set scene and it is not easy to see how this
was enacted on the ancient stage. A curtain was not used until much later and
so it can only be supposed that the group was formed with the audience looking
on.
The opening of the play shows Andromache, who has sought sanctuary at the
altar of the shrine of Thetis in Pharsalia. In accordance with Euripides’ tech-
nique her distress does not stop her at all from giving a lengthy exposition of the
very complicated previous history. After Hector’s death she fell to Neoptolemus,
Achilles’ son, as his share of the booty; he took her home to Thessaly, where she
bore him a son. But Neoptolemus married Hermione, Menelaus’ daughter, who
remained childless. While the master of the house is at Delphi to settle a quarrel
with Apollo, Hermione, together with her father Menelaus who has come from
Sparta, seeks to ruin Andromache and her child. Menelaus is a stage villain with
whose deplorable qualities the poet makes quite unconcealed anti-Spartan
propaganda. His sinister plans are close to success, for the chorus of Phthian
women can commiserate with Andromache but are unable to help her. Mene-
laus, however, has not counted on the strength which still lives in old Peleus,
Neoptolemus’ grandfather. He comes and inflicts on the venal Spartan king,
and his country into the bargain, such a moral defeat that Menelaus leaves
Hermione in the lurch and departs miserably. Now Andromache has been saved
and the plot, introduced by her prologue, is finished. But the play is not nearly
finished. In this first part a lament in elegiac distichs by Andromache (103) is
noteworthy as a formal feature unexampled in the other surviving plays.
A second part follows which is joined to the first to a certain extent by the
figure of Hermione, although it would be impossible to claim that it is an organic
connection.2, Remembering what she had wanted to perpetrate, Hermione
shudders to think of her husband’s return. Then Orestes arrives; he has prior
claims to her and is Neoptolemus’ bitter enemy. He has been on the look-out
for a long time and now avails himself of the opportunity to carry off Hermione.
A new scene brings on a messenger who relates how Neoptolemus has fallen a
victim to an attack instigated by Orestes. This message is interpretated by many
the
as if Orestes were to be imagined present in Delphi himselfatthe moment of
deed. This would cause great inconsistency in the chronology of the plot and
charge the poet with extreme carelessness. It can be shown, however,? that the
fault is with the modern commentators. Orestes prepared the assault with great
' On the motif of taking refuge at an altar H. strouM, Euripides. Zet. 15, Munich 1957,
7 2 Otherwise J. C. KAMERBEEK, Mnem. 3rd ser. 11, 1942, 54.
3 A. LESKY, ‘Der Ablauf der Handlung in der Andr. des Eur.’. Anz. Ost. Ak. 1947, 99.
375
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

care in Delphi, but has already left at the time of its execution 1n order to fetch
Hermione. Here too Euripides is very careful in the motivation of the details,
although of course he cannot avoid every objection. Such care in the portrayal
of the probable (ai#avdv) reveals an element of the domestication of tragedy.
To emphasize the contrast we recall the immediate succession of the fire beacon
and the return of the fleet in Aeschylus’ Agamemnon.
The dirge in the concluding part of the play is ended by the appearance of
Thetis. She brings the play to a close with joyful promises. Andromache’s son
will found the ruling house of the Molossians, but Peleus, made divine, will live
with her in her palace of the sea; he will also see Achilles again who, as a hero, is
living in the island of Leuce. If the play was really written for the Molossians,
they could be satisfied with the splendour which surrounded their ruling family.
The violently anti-Spartan sentiment expressed in the drawing of Menelaus
agrees with the composition of the play in the first years of the Peloponnesian
War. The mood of this period has been detected in other plays and it has been
attempted to mark offa patriotic period in the poet’s work, for which particu-
larly the Heraclidae and the Suppliant Women are summoned as witnesses. This is
correct in so far that thoughts and sentiments of those years are no doubt of
significance for the works mentioned, but Giinther Zuntz has rightly pointed
out that the general human problems of these plays should not be overlooked
and that their connection with their time should not be sought in key figures
and a mass of political allusions.
Zuntz has put forward many arguments why the Heraclidae should be dated
in 430; it is certainly before 427. Up to then the Athenian public could be
expected to believe in Eurystheus’ (1032) prophecy about the protection which
his dead body would grant to the land of Attica against the offspring of the
Heraclidae.
This play also begins with a tableau at an altar. Heracles’ children are fleeing
from Eurystheus, their father’s mortal enemy, through many countries and
have now sought sanctuary at the altar of Zeus at Marathon. Athenian generosity
exemplified in the king of the country, Demophon, and in the chorus of ancients
assures them of this protection. The herald of Eurystheus, who appears as the
representative of brutal force, is dismissed in a verbal contest in which Iolaus
pleads the cause of the Heraclidae before the king, and the latter decides to use
Athens’ arms on behalf of the persecuted. The battle, in which Heracles’ son
Hyllus intervenes with auxiliary forces, leads to the victory of the good cause.
Eurystheus is captured and executed.
Euripides brought vigorous movement into the simple plot with individual
characters and themes. The connection of the parts is not always particularly
firm, but the antithesis of might and right, so important to Greek thought,
maintains its dominant position and ensures the inner cohesion of this play.
Jolaus, Heracles’ old comrade-at-arms, is an ardent defender of justice. He
could have stayed quietly on his estate, as he says himselfinthe prologue, but he
accompanies the hunted children as a protector on their path of sorrows.
Before the decisive battle the frail old man has a servant arm him, a scene which
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
has grotesque features in our eyes, contrary to the poet’s purpose. But the
messenger reports the miraculous rejuvenation of the old man, who manages
to capture Eurystheus with his own hands. Iolaus as the vanquisher of the arch-
enemy was part of the tradition,! and here, as in many other cases, Euripides
left it to his spectators whether they wished to assume an enlightened or a pious
attitude.
The unyielding, self-sacrificing devotion of the old man is matched by that
of a young woman, which, blazing forth like a bright fame, provides an effective
contrast and complement. Before the battle the seers have demanded the
sacrifice of a life; however Athens may be ready to help, it cannot offer one
from its own ranks. Then one of Heracles’ daughters — the later tradition calls
her Macaria — stands forth to protect her relatives, ensuring victory through her
sacrifice.
The end of the play is curious. After his capture Eurystheus is brought before
Alcmene, Heracles’ mother, who is fleeing together with her grandchildren.
The Athenians plead for indulgence towards the captive, but Alcmene demands
his death in a paroxysm of hatred. The result is a peculiar bit of trafficking;
Alcmene is to have the prisoner executed, but will give up the body for inter-
ment. Eurystheus acquiesces and in gratitude announces to the Athenians an
oracle of Apollo, according to which his tomb will safeguard the land of
Attica. This ending is not satisfactory, but in accordance with the poet’s aim it
has to perform a variety of functions. The question of the fate of prisoners of
war was a subject of lively interest to all in times of hostilities and its treatment
on the stage was bound to create a stir. But the manner of stressing various
aspects showed the humane quality of Athens in this dramatic panegyric of the
city in radiant brightness. And perhaps we divine the poet’s intention further by
assuming that his ending implies a sort of ironical twist. Among the persecuted,
on behalf of whom the justice of humanity had to intervene, a voice is raised,
Alcmene’s, which brutally denies this justice to the erstwhile persecutor.
With this play a problem is connected which nowadays is mostly pushed
quickly to one side. The carrying-out of Macaria’s sacrifice is not mentioned
with as much as a word after her exit. Line 821 cannot very well be related to it,?
and if this were the case, it would be very upsetting. Furthermore the hypothesis
speaks of homage paid to the girl, and this can be extracted from the surviving
work only with a great deal of dexterity.’ Stobaeus preserves some lines of verse
the tradition of which is not entirely unequivocal, but which can be rejected for
the Heraclidae only under special conditions.+ Finally this play, with its 1055
lines, is the shortest of all surviving Euripidean plays. Wilamowitz5 has advanced
the thesis that the present Heraclidae is an abbreviated version for a later per-
formance. None of the arguments put forward is conclusive and in view of the

1 pIND. Pyth. 9. 79. 2 ZUNTZ (v. inf.), 153. :

3 SCHMID, 3. 422. 3. 7. On the revision D. L. PAGE, Actors’ interpolations. Oxt. 1934, 38.
Opp. this esp. G. ZUNTZ, ‘Is the Heraclidae mutilated?’. Class. Quart. 41, 1947, 40.
4 Thus POHLENZ, 2. 145.
3 Herm. 17, 1882, 337; now KI. Schr. 1. 82; cf. Glaube der Hellenen t. Berl. 1931, 298, 3.
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wide range of Euripides’ creative activity we must recognize that wide variety
is possible. But it should not be denied that this case remains open to doubt.
The extent to which our notion of Euripides still lacks a firm basis becomes
painfully clear in two analyses of the Suppliant Women, which was written at
about the same time. In his book which appeared in 1955, Giinther Zuntz
interpreted the play as praise of Athenian humanity as well as evidence for a
new foundation, rational and basically untragic, of norms which once had a
firm footing in religious tradition. But one year earlier Gilbert Norwood had
declared that the Suppliant Women in its present form was an accumulation of
débris thrown together by a dunce. His theory that this sorry creature had
combined parts of a play by Euripides with one by Moschion into an artificial
and logically impossible whole will hardly find any adherents, but it shows what
is still possible in Euripidean studies.
Our interpretation largely agrees with Zuntz’s. The story of how Theseus
successfully intervened so that the seven fallen before Thebes might be buried
had already been treated by Aeschylus in his Eleusinii. The general mood in the
early stages of the Peloponnesian War and the poet's personal contribution to
the ancient Greck quest after justice in this world make it understandable that
he selected this subject. The negotiations carried on with the Thebans after the
battle of Delium over the surrender of the fallen (424, Thuc. 4. 97), can only
have enhanced the interest in this subject, even though no reflection of historical
facts must be looked for in the play. This context is to be rejected, if Zuntz is
right in his conjecture that it was performed as early as the beginning of 424;
others have thought of 421, but it is inadvisable to go back further.!
The uneasiness of many of the interpreters can largely be explained by the
fact that Euripides — we should like to know how Aeschylus went about this -
divested the mothers of the seven heroes and the heroes themselves of their
mythical individuality so as to emphasize in this way the general human prob-
lem in full clarity. So when, at the beginning of the play, we see the mothers of
the dead heroes with their servants at the altar of Demeter of Eleusis, we must
not focus on Jocaste or any one else, but we have to understand the group of
fifteen choreutae as the expression of a collective grief and a collective supplica-
tion. In the prologue Aethra, Theseus’ mother, explains the pathetic group.
And when Theseus arrives and refuses his support to Adrastus, the vanquished
king of Argos, Acthra turns his glance from the hybris of the Argive expedition
to the misery of the mothers who are begging for their sons’ corpses. The first
of the passages referring to contemporary events, which are specially empha-
sized in the play, occurs in Theseus’ speech abusing Adrastus. The optimistic
praise of human intelligence and human genius is directly reminiscent of Prota-
goras’ myth of the origin of human culture.
Theseus has to defend his decision to help the suppliants first against the
Theban herald who demands the expulsion of Adrastus on behalf of his city,
and an agon ensues which, before the actual contest, sparks off a great and
' Cf. H. DILLER, Gnom. 32, 1960, 232 on the question whether the alliance between
Athens and Argos of 420 should be taken into account for the chronology.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
fundamental debate; the herald asked for the tyrant of the country and on
Theseus’ reply that he has come to a free city they begin an argument about
monarchy and democracy. It is a historical paradox that the king of Athens
should act as the founder and champion of the latter form of government. But
examples are not lacking that the Athenian Theseus legends connected their
hero in various ways with the victory of democracy.!
It was not simply Euripides’ purpose to place on the stage in this Theseus a
Pericles dressed up like a hero, but it would be wrong to deny that this propa-
gandist of Athenian democracy was largely fashioned upon ideas of the time
and also bears some of the features of the great statesman. In the years after his
death his image inevitably appeared in a brighter light.
Like Demophon in the Heraclidae, Theseus has to match the contest of words
with one of weapons. A messenger-speech reports how he enforces by battle
the surrender of the bodies. And now the Eleusinian scene turns at the end into
the place for the funeral rites. Like so much in Euripides it is characterized by
means of an alternation of lyrically solemn and rationally precise spoken passages.
The dirge of the chorus is followed by a funeral oration by Adrastus, which
reflects in the art of the drama the actual custom of the Athenian funeral oration
of which Gorgias, Thucydides, Hyperides and the probably genuine Epitaphios
by Demosthenes give us examples. Here too the image of the gigantic figures
of the heroic age as drawn by Aeschylus has dimmed completely; the poet’s age
expresses itself through the words of the orators, especially when, unlike Hecabe
in the play of the same name, he professes (911) a boundless educational
optimism.
After a choral lyric with renewed lament follows a monody of great solemnity
by Evadne, the wife of the dead Capaneus. She wishes to follow her husband
and after frenzied lyrical utterances she affirms her resolution in the stichomythia
with her father Iphis. Then she throws herself on the pyre. Those who bear in
mind the great importance in Euripides of voluntary sacrificial death and the
fervour of passionate love will not need to think of Indian customs in order to
understand this melodramatic effect.
This harsh scene is followed by mourning of a different nature. A secondary
chorus of boys enters; the children of the dead bring in the urns and unite their
lament with that of the old women in a renewed dirge which rounds off the
whole complex of scenes. Adrastus takes his leave with a promise of Argive
loyalty to Athens, but then Athena as the provident patroness of the city inter-
venes from the machine and demands that the Argives corroborate their promise
with a solemnly sworn treaty. This also reflects the historical situation, for the
role of Argos was important for Athens in all times of hostility with Sparta.
This detail does not give any special help for the date of the play.
Athenian self-sacrificing devotion was also celebrated in the Erechtheus, which
has been conjecturally attributed to the same trilogy as the Suppliant Women.
The Athenian offered his own daughter up to the goddesses to fulfil an oracle in
1 NORWOOD (v. inf.), 136, compiles the evidence himself. Cf. now A. E. RAUBITSCHECK,
‘Demokratia’. Hesperia 31, 1962, 238.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the distress of war and found his own wife on his side in the acceptance of this
heavy sacrifice. The Theseus,' which no doubt glorified Athens’s national hero
with splendour, was performed before 422. The Evadne theme of the Suppliant
Women has a kinship with the Protesilaus which cannot be dated precisely. In
this play Laodamia treasured in her room an image of her husband who had
fallen before Troy. Her father had it burned, but the widow threw herself into
the flames, as Evadne had done.
The Heracles occupies a special position in the work of Euripides. Its date can
only be approximately set between 421 and 415. When there is no recourse to
other aids, metre provides a clue to some extent for the chronology of Euripides’
plays. Those whose dates are certain indicate that resolution within the iambic
trimeter increased fairly steadily.2 According to this reckoning the Heracles is
close to the Trojan Women of the year 415; this agrees with the fact that it is the
first of the surviving plays to show trochaic tetrameters.3 The return to the
metre of early tragedy is part of the archaizing traits of later Euripidean drama.
It is incomprehensible that this play has been grouped with those dealing with
patriotism and politics! Admittedly at the end we meet a truly Athenian
Theseus, humanitarian and enlightened, but his only part is to contribute
towards the solution of a conflict which is on an entirely different level.
The first part of the play deals with the rescue in the nick of time of people in
distress. While Heracles descends to the underworld to perform his most
difficult labour, the usurper Lycus wants to annihilate the hero’s kith and kin.
His aged father Amphitryon, his wife Megara and the children, have taken
refuge at the altar of Zeus. But Lycus, who defends his action as the expedient
of common sense in an agon with Amphitryon, threatens the suppliants with
fire. The chorus of Theban elders cannot help and Megara prepares herself to
face death with her children in a way worthy of Heracles’ wife. The hero
arrives at the right moment to save them and to destroy the tyrant. Of the final
scenes of this section we do not forget the one of Heracles entering the palace
with his wife and children, of the little ones clinging to their father’s clothes so
that it is of no avail to ask them to let go (627).
While within Heracles is sacrificing to the gods, a new plot is being prepared,
clearly marked as such by the prologue. Up above, i.e. on the theologeum,
which we imagine to be on the roof of the skene, Iris, the messenger of the
gods, appears with Lyssa, the demon of insanity, whom she sends into the
house at the behest of Hera. A messenger-speech which stresses the pathological
details with sinister precision, describes the hero’s attack of frenzy in the course
of which he kills the very wife and children whom he has just saved from
death. Athena stuns him with a rock hurled by her, to prevent at least parricide.

* Chronology: Schol. Aristoph. Wasps 313. Bibl. in HERTER, Rhein. Mus. OL, 1942, 234.
* E. B. CEADEL, ‘ Resolved Feet in the Trimeter of Eur. and the Chronology of the Plays’.
Class. Quart. 35, 1941, 66. .
3 Tables in w. KRIEG, Phil. 91, 1936, 43. W. M. CALDER i, Class. Phil. 55, 1960, 128
correctly opposes the attempt to utilize Ox. Pap. 24, 1957, 2400 for the chronology of the
play.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Then he can be tied to a column and thus we see the hero when the palace gate
is opened. When he wakes up in the middle of the destruction which he has
wrought, we think of the other awakening of a hero struck with madness,
shown by Sophocles in the Ajax. The way in which the path of the two poets
separates here characterizes the beginning of a new way of thought, the change
of the heroic notion of honour to a domestic enlightened one. After the realisa-
tion of what he has done in his deranged condition, the only way open to Ajax
was death, and we saw with what composure he went to meet it. Heracles too
sees at first no other possible way in which to react to what has happened. But
Theseus, his friend, who has also once been saved by Heracles when sorely
oppressed, manages to guide him on to another course which is now considered
to be the better. Heracles’ heroism will not be proved by casting away his life,
but by suffering it to continue in spite of all his misery and distress. Leaning on
Theseus, he starts upon the way to Athens which will offer him asylum.
However strongly the two parts of the play may be contrasted, no one could
call it a complete separation. The two parts are connected, rather, by an anti-
thesis of very great impact: the hero, radiant in the splendour of his deeds, the
saviour of his dependants, is shown in the second part as the wretched, broken
man of sorrows, who now needs his strength only to drag himself through a life
of the deepest misery.
Occasionally a misinterpretation which originated with Wilamowitz, but
was subsequently withdrawn by him, still emerges.' According to this the
insanity arose out of Heracles’ own soul, from the greatness of his heroism; the
rumbling of the impending thunderstorm had already been heard in the first
part. But the hero’s wrath at Lycus’ attempt is understandable enough in itself
and can never support an interpretation which puts complex psychological
suppositions in the way of our understanding of the play. By irrational forces
this Heracles is dashed from the height of his vital power into the depth of his
misery. He may crown the deeds which he performed in the service of mankind
with the rescue of his family, but all his strength, his security and his happiness
are shattered in the one moment when the destructive blow from the realm of
something totally alien strikes him. In no other play was Euripides so close to
Sophocles as in this, which once more, in the spirit of the truly tragic, brings us
face to face with the nakedness and weakness of human existence.
Heracles’ insanity and the murder of his wife and children was part of the
legend. Here too Euripides made the inner structure of his play possible with a
stroke of genius. While in the legend these events occurred before the labours
which Heracles had to perform in the service of Eurystheus, the poet now
advanced these to the end of his heroic career. In this way everything was given
a new interrelation. Whereas previously Heracles atoned for his insane deeds
through his achievements, now, placed at the end, they point to the tragic
problems of all human greatness.
But even here Euripides is not Sophocles. No faith, secure in tradition, stands
above all the riddles and all the cruelty oflife; here the call is not sounded, as at
1 D. Lit. Zeit. 1926, 853; now KI. Schr. 1. 466.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the end of the Trachinian Women: ‘nothing of this which is not Zeus’. On the
contrary, the poet speaks suddenly from the mask of his hero; in the attitude of
a Xenophanes he denies the idle tales of bards about the immortals’ adultery
and hostility and raises before us an image of a god who has no wants outside
himself (1345). The whole play was motivated by Hera’s wrath and in perplexity
we ask whether the poet does not invalidate the presuppositions of his own work
by such criticism. It is understandable that the conclusion was reached that
Euripides wanted to carry the subject of his play ad absurdum.! Actually we
have to admit a paradox which necessarily arose from the constraint imposed
on Euripides’ work by his subject matter and its creator’s intellect, which had
outgrown the mythical tradition.
The grand form of the Aeschylean trilogy, covering one subject, had long
been abandoned. This did not, however, stop the three tragedies performed
together from being thematically connected on occasion, although we cannot
examine the extent of this connection in any of the surviving examples. It
cannot have been very close in the trilogy which Euripides staged in 415. The
first play, the Alexander, dealt with Paris. Because of evil prophecies his parents
had exposed him on Mount Ida, where shepherds nourished him. He now comes
to Troy and wins all the prizes in the games. His next-of-kin want to kill him,
but recognition of Paris prevents the deed and he is received in the city whose
destroyer he is to be. Considerable remnants, especially in some Strasbourg
papyri, make it possible to reconstruct the play almost completely.
We know less about the second play, Palamedes. Earlier we learnt of the speech
for the defence which Gorgias wrote for the inventive hero whom his rival
Odysseus destroyed with an evil intrigue. All three of the great Attic tragedians
wrote plays on Palamedes.
The Trojan Women, the third surviving play, is very close to the Hecabe in
content. But whereas in the latter play the poet successfully attempted to dove-
tail the pieces together, in the Trojan Women he made the succession of events
into a principle of construction. And whereas in the Hecabe the outbreak of
annihilating passion was being prepared and accomplished, the Trojan Women
is wholly given over to suffering, the suffering brought upon people by war.
In this play Hecabe is also the central figure. In her lyrics and those of her
fellow-captives the lament for their loss gushes forth in broad streams, but also
fear of suffering yet to come. In comparison with the previous treatment of the
theme in the Hecabe, Polyxena’s sacrifice is only indicated, but otherwise
almost everything that the tradition had to report of distress and misery has
been included in the play. The herald of the Greeks, Talthybius, whose own
heart is touched by the misery of the prisoners, comes and allots the women as
slaves to their new masters. Cassandra, brandishing her torch, ecstatically sings
her own bridal hymn. She has been assigned to Agamemnon and knows what
is going to happen. Then little Astyanax is torn away from Andromache, who
is Neoptolemus’s share of the plunder, in order to be hurled from one of the
' Thus inter alios GREENWOOD (v. inf.).
> PAGE, Greek Lit. Pap. 1950, 54, with bibl. BR. sNELL, Herm. E 5, 1937, is still important.
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towers of Troy. It was Odysseus’ advice not to let the future avenger of Troy
live. The poet has gathered all his resources in the final scene. Then the signal is
given for setting sail and while in the background Troy goes up in flames, the
women are led to the ships to serve as slaves in foreign lands.
But Euripides did not only depict the distress of the victims. We observe in
this play how much he was concerned to proclaim the profound truth that the
demon of war strikes the victor too with an even more frightful scourge. The
prologue of the play is spoken by Poseidon, who is joined by Athena, and in the
dialogue of the two gods the catastrophe is announced which is to destroy the
Greek fleet on the homeward voyage and to strew the waves of the Aegean
with corpses. And later there emerges from Cassandra’s prophecy the image of
future sufferings for the victors, who caused boundless misery for the sake
of one adulteress. In the agon scene in the final part of the play the great war of
Greek mythology which is sometimes celebrated elsewhere by Euripides as the
greatest achievement of his nation, is shown in a curious light. Menelaus enters
with Helen whom he is holding in a firm grip, like a prisoner. The faithless
woman and Hecabe face each other in a kind of law-court scene in which both
parties use all the tricks of forensic oratory. Particularly Helen’s defence, which
is based entirely on the myth of Paris’ judgment and the influence of Aphrodite,
gives a striking example of the sport with the mythical tradition which was
inevitable when it was no longer taken seriously. Menelaus does proclaim that
he will kill Helen when he is home, but the Athenians knew their Homer and
were well aware that the weakling succumbed again to the charms of the
beautiful woman, and held her, who was most guilty of the great evil, in honour
in his palace in Sparta.
Before Hecabe enters into the debate, she pronounces a prayer which is one
of the most impressive testimonies that the poet was seeking a new conception
of the divine (884): “You who bear the earth and are enthroned on the earth,
whoever you may be, hard to reach for knowledge, Zeus, whether law of
nature or man’s intelligence, to you I pray: walking noiselessly you lead man’s
destiny to the just end.’ The ancient form of the hymn of invocation is still there
in its basic traits, we also hear the same formula of groping search as in the hymn
to Zeus in Aeschylus’ Agamemnon. But how the content has changed! Here, in
these few lines, the intellectual labour of the Ionian thinkers is combined with
the personal searching of the deeply stirred poet.
Euripides put his poem of the misery of war on the Athenian stage in 415.
This was the time in which Athens’ yearning for power reached far beyond the
confines of the Aegean. In the summer of this year the fleet against Sicily put
to sea. It has often been said with justice that in this year the poet, deeply con-
cerned, placed before the eyes of the Athenians collected in the theatre of
Dionysus an image of war in its full horror.
In later plays of Euripides’, subjects from the myths concerning the Atridae
are more frequent. According to Schol. Aristoph. Ach. 433 he wrote a Thyestes
even before 425. The Electra has long been dated in the early part of 413. The
Dioscuri, who appear as the dei ex machina, speak of their cares for the ships in
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the Sicilian waters, and it was the obvious thing to link this with the auxiliary
fleet which at this time was sailing from Athens to Sicily. It still does not seem
easy to exclude the possibility of a topical reference, but we cannot overlook
the arguments, mainly derived from the metre, which Zuntz has advanced to
defend an earlier date of the play between the Hicetides and the Trojan Women.
The old question of the chronological relation of Sophocles’ Electra with that
of Euripides is still a desperate problem.’ The extent of the controversies and
the extreme subtlety of the arguments are evidence that no useful starting-points
are available and that we shall have to be satisfied with the realisation that two
great poets treated the same subject within a very short time in a totally different
manner. Even if the early date of Euripides’ Electra can be upheld, its priority
is not assured, since there is considerable latitude for the dating of Sophocles’
play.
Euripides’ Electra is indeed completely different in conception. Just as in
other cases links can be observed between Euripides and the oldest of the three
tragedians, he agrees here also with Aeschylus in that the problem of matricide
is stressed, whereas Sophocles had other aims. Of course, Euripides’ notion of
the conflict is as remote from that of Aeschylus as only the world of a veteran
of Marathon can be from one who had learnt to doubt tradition under the
influence of the sophists.
Aeschylus’ Choephoroe was enacted in Argos, Sophocles’ Electra in Mycenae,
but Euripides makes Agamemnon’s daughter await the day of vengeance on a
farm at the borders of the Argive land. To prevent her giving birth to a danger-
ous avenger, Aegisthus has married her to a poor man, though of noble birth,
who now has to earn his livelihood with the labour of his hands.
By this change of scene Euripides gained much for his plot, but in another
direction he also made vigorous use of the new situation. The poor farmer, who
does not touch Electra and attempts to soothe her suffering with deep under-
standing, is one of those figures in which the poet shows the break-through of
new values. Ancient barriers have been pulled down and in Euripides we
repeatedly? encounter the slave whose unfree body conceals a noble soul.
In comparison with Aeschylus, Euripides has artistically enhanced both the
management of the recognition of brother and sister, and of the assault on the
reigning couple, not least through the spatial separation of the individual
characters. There are doubts+ whether the lines with the notorious criticism of
Aeschylus’ recognition scene (518-544) are really by Euripides. The introduc-
tion of Agamemnon’s old servant, who lives at some distance from Electra as a
shepherd, is very effective. When Orestes and Pylades approach Electra’s farm

* The Political Plays of Eur. Manchester 1955, 67; his objection against the use of 1278 ff.
as an anticipation of the Helen is certainly correct. On the earlier date also K. MATTHIESSEN
Aufbau und Datierung der El., der Taur. Iph. und der Hel. des Eur. Diss. Hamb. 1961 pa).
195, and H.-J. NEWIGER, Herm. 89, 1961, 427.
2 Bibl. in POHLENZ, 2, 127, who himself gives precedence to Eur.
5 Passages in WILH. NESTLE, Eur., der Dichter der griech. Aufklarung. Stuttg. 1901, 357.
(GI jo, Xoo, Tak, ie °
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

and are examining the situation, she sends to the old man for some foodstuffs
in order to give her guests some entertainment. He comes and brings about the
recognition through unmistakable tokens — he himself once concealed Orestes.
Now the plan is formed and carried out step by step. As in Aeschylus, Aegisthus
falls first; Orestes kills him at a rural sacrifice. Clytemnestra, however, is lured
to the farm with the pretence that Electra has borne a child. In the final analysis
the agon between mother and daughter emerges from the same situation as in
the corresponding scene in Sophocles, but a profound difference has been
effected through the delineation of Clytemnestra. Her crime cannot be over-
looked, but she has saved Electra from the death which Aegisthus had planned
for her; she now has forbearance with her daughter’s harsh words, she has
learnt regret and in accents of unutterable weariness she affirms that her deeds
have not given her much happiness. That is the woman whom Electra leads
into the house to be slaughtered.
When the murder has been done, the fire of passion which blazed especially
in Electra is extinguished in horror. In the kommos of brother and sister we hear
two people break down under the burden of their deed, a deed which ought
never to have been done. Already here Euripides has passed judgment on the
myth of Orestes’ matricide, and he does it once more in plain words through
the lips of the Dioscuri, who at the end lead events into their traditional course.
Electra will marry Pylades and Orestes will find redemption before the Areo-
pagus. To this extent the Athenian audience had to be placated, but it was the
poet’s concern to state through the lips of the divine twins that Clytemnestra
had paid the just penalty but that Orestes had not committed ajust act. The wise
god of Delphi had commanded unwisely. Where for Aeschylus the problem
was profound, but completely contained in his religious thought, Euripides
sees only the intolerable character of a myth which turns a son’s murder weapons
against his own mother. His Electra aims above all at being a dramatic work of
art and not simply a manifesto of an enlightened protest, but it implies this
protest and has made it part of the work. It is right that through this the pre-
suppositions of the whole work are put to the question, and in this realization
we recognize once again the profound antinomy which pervades the work of
this tragedian.
In this play the chorus of Electra’s neighbours is of little significance. An
invitation to a feast is the motivation for their entrance, and what they sing is
little more than an insertion to separate the episodes. This applies particularly
to the lyric 432 ff. with the description of Achilles’ armour forged by Hephaestus
and the story of how the Nereids brought it to his home in Thessaly; it is an
impressive example of the lyrics of the later plays with purely narrative contents
which Walther Krantz! compared, as dithyrambic stasima, with Bacchylides’
dithyrambs.
The Helen forms a strongpoint in the chronology of Euripides’ plays. We
know from two scholia on Aristoph. (Thesm. 1012 and 1060) that it was
performed in 412 together with the Andromeda. This firm date is doubly
' Stasimon, Berl. 1933, 254.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

valuable, since at the same time it fixes chronologically a whole group of

Euripides’ plays which belong together in form and content.
Already in the Electra the succession of recognition and intrigue (anagnorisis
and mechanema) had formed the scaffolding of the plot. But while there a
serious problem had been at the back of all this, now the elements mentioned
become largely independent and dominate the whole play."
In his Palinode Stesichorus had sung that only a phantom of Helen came to
Troy, and Herodotus (2. 112) knew a story of her sojourn in Egypt. In Euripides’
play we find Helen there, just at the time when Menelaus is wrecked on the
coast of Egypt on the voyage home with the phantom image of his wife, for
whose sake Troy had to fall. Helen’s protector, old king Proteus, 1s dead, and
his son Theoclymenus has driven her to his tomb with his violent wooing.
There she speaks the prologue, which is especially necessary in view of the
complex background of this play. Next Teucer enters, who is on his way to
Cyprus; he thrusts her even deeper into misery. Together with other bad news
he also brings the message that Menelaus is dead. After a lengthy lament, in
which the women of the chorus participate, Helen goes with them to the
palace to enquire from the king’s sister, Theonoe, who has the gift of prophecy.
about her husband’s fate. This is one of the rare occasions when the stage
becomes empty again after the chorus’ parodos. This affords Menelaus, upon
his entrance, the opportunity to explain his situation in a new prologue. When
Helen, who has been made more hopeful by Theonoe, enters again with the
chorus, the anagnorisis is developed, which, passing through various stages,
removes the couple’s suspicion and doubts.
But it is a reunion amidst distress and danger. The king threatens all strangers
with death, and so the husband of Helen can least of all hope for consideration.
Much depends on Theonoe; she is prevailed upon to keep silent in a long scene
of persuasive reasoning which in form resembles the customary agon, and the
way is open to plan for their rescue. As is the rule in plays of this nature, female
guile finds the solution. Menelaus is to act before Theoclymenus as the messenger
of his own death; then Helen will ask the king for permission to perform a
sacrifice for her dead husband at sea and once they have a ship, it will be used to
flee home. The plan is successful and Theoclymenus has to learn from a messenger
how Greek wit won the day over barbarian clumsiness. When in his rage he
first wants to hit out at Theonoe to avenge himself, he is stopped by the Dios-
curt. They explain to him that these things had been ordained by fate and so
persuade him to acquiesce.
Is the Helen a tragedy? This question can easily give rise to confusion unless
the various possibilities of limiting the idea are given consideration. A Greek
from the poet’s own time would not have understood it. To him a play with a
subject from the myths, performed at the festival of Dionysus, was a tragedy
as a matter of course. But things appear in a different light if we apply Faas
tenets of the tragic; now in the discussion of the Oresteia we defended the
: F. SOLMSEN, ‘Zur Gestaltung des Intriguen-motivs in den Trag. des Soph. und Eur.’.
Phil. 87, 1932, t. Id. ‘Eur. Ion im Vergleich mit anderen Trag.’. Herm. 69, 1934, 390.
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conviction that the tragic in drama is not unconditionally connected with even-
tual death, but that it is rather tragic situations within the play which justify its
definition as tragedy in our sense, if these situations are imbued with the truly
tragic which penetrates to the roots of human existence. But this is no longer
the case in a play like the Helen. Here man neither faces recognizable divine
forces, nor has he to fulfil a destiny which comes to him from another world,
nor does his remoteness from the divine, his being exposed to the irrational,
become a tragic problem. The gods still act, and in the Helen we even hear that
a quarrel between Hera and Aphrodite is very important for the fate of the
couple, but all this has no bearing on the essence of the world in which these
people plan and dare, struggle and win. A new controlling force is becoming
visible behind all this, chance, which as Tyche dominates the plays of New
Comedy. It has often been stated that with Euripides’ later plays like the Helen
we are on the way to the domestic drama, to the comedy of Menander. Earlier
we characterized two elements as anagnorisis and mechanema, which here, as
later, control the plot, and we shall later have an opportunity to point out
parallel themes, among which such as Menander himself stresses with mis-
chievous playfulness.
Of no less importance, however, is the similarity in another field. Menander
would not have much meaning for us if the invention of complicated plots with
seduced maidens, exposed children and cunningly executed intrigues were all
that he had to offer. He still charms us in his plays especially with his portrayal
of people who answer the whims of Tyche with their suffering, their hopes, their
plans and their happiness. We have no wish to deny that in spite of the affinity of
subject matter, the world of the later Euripidean tragedy is still something
different from that of the lower middle-class Athens of New Comedy. But
basically it is also in the latter that these rare events, these recognitions and rescues
only occur to show us man and to let us hear a new wealth of accents of sorrow
and yearning, despair and joy.
Nevertheless the Helen does claim a special place in Euripides’ wuvre by
virtue of the vivaciousness of this fairy-tale atmosphere and whimsical quality
of this play, a quality which the poet achieved in none of his other works.
Giinther Zuntz! subtly remarked on its kinship with the Tempest, The Magic
Flute or Ariadne auf Naxos. With the usual reservations to which such com-
parisons are subject, the operatic quality of presentation is excellently expressed.
Occasionally Euripides used the scheme of a plot which had proved to be
effective once more within a short time. The plot of Iphigenia in Tauris? is
mainly parallel with that of the Helen, although it is not possible to decide the
relative chronology of the plays definitely. In both two people find each other
in a distant inhospitable land and have to bring off a rescue with guile and

1 In the work mentioned in the bibl. on the play, p. 226. J

2 PLATNAUER States correctly in his ed. (V, 1) that Iph. in Tauris is a faulty rendering of
"
the title "Id. 7 ev Tavpors.
3 w. LUDWIG, Sapheneia. Diss. Tiibingen 1954, 120 argues in favour of the priority of the
Iphigenia.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

courage. The similarity goes even so far in one single passage, the song of joy
of the reunited people, that in both plays the number of lines and several
phrases agree.
Goethe’s splendid creation was a reason for many to devaluate Euripides, and
the Greeks generally with him at the same time, but this was the last thing the
author had in mind. When such comparisons are made, Iphigenia, lying and
cheating with consummate skill, cuts a poor figure beside the noble creation of
the later writer. As if it were permissible to compare the value of two works
which have nothing in common except the background of the subject! One
Greek tragedian has also given impressive life to the noble man who cannot
bear untruth, Sophocles in his Philoctetes. But Euripides’ Iphigenia is a play about
the rescue of two people of the same kin from a world full of barbarian
brutality.
A theme frequently used by Euripides is put into action before the recognition,
so that its effect is enhanced: a hostile fate threatens to make people who are
most closely linked by nature into one another’s murderers. Carried off by
Artemis from the sacrifice in Aulis, Iphigenia is living in the land of the Taurians
as the goddess’ priestess. A savage custom demands the blood of strangers for
the goddess, and Iphigenia has to perform the consecration of the victims.
Orestes is still being persecuted by some of the Erinyes even after the verdict of
the Areopagus and is ordered by Apollo to bring the statue of Taurian Artemis
to Attica. Pylades accompanies him also in this dangerous adventure. Iphigenia
is introduced in her prologue, Orestes is shown first when the young men are
approaching the temple to spy out the land. The chorus of captive Greek
maidens is of little importance, but with their fine lyrics which sing of their
yearning for home they provide a background to Iphigenia’s longing for Argos
and her kin. In the first of the two messenger-speeches of this play — both are
masterpieces of Euripides’ narrative art — a shepherd reports that an attack of
frenzy of Orestes has led to the capture of the two friends. They will now die
as victims at the goddess’s altar. The anagnorisis, which won Aristotle’s praise
(Poet. 16. 1455 a) has been particularly skilfully contrived. One of the friends
whom Iphigenia wants to save is to take a letter home for her. In an ingeniously
entangled exchange of words the commission to deliver the message turns out
to be the means of recognition. Their joy is followed by careful planning in a
scene which very clearly demonstrates a new aspect of these plays. Iphigenia
wants to bring about her brother’s rescue even at the cost of her own. But
Orestes can only think ofjoint rescue or death together with his sister. In the
same way Helen advised her husband to flee from Egypt without her, and he
too wanted to share either return home or death with her. The characters
of these plays lack the grandly heroic attitude of the Sophoclean figures, but
they win our sympathy through moving gestures of generosity, devotion and
loyalty.
Feminine guile finds once again the saving plan; they pretend to Thoas, the
barbarian king, that a purification of the goddess’s statue and of the prisoners is
necessary and must be done at the beach. The second messenger-speech relates
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the dramatic way in which they fight their way out in the ship which had
brought Orestes and Pylades.
Athena is the dea ex machina, but she performs this function under peculiar
circumstances. The three conspirators are already in the ship with the statue and
under way when they are carried back to the land by a wave. This new peril,
upon which Thoas pounces at once, has been inserted only to motivate Athena’s
appearance, which means that the function of the deus ex machina is not merely
to untie the knot. The foundation of a cult by the god at the end of the play was
at least of equal importance. However far Euripides may have followed his own
course in the play, at its conclusion he sets it within the framework of the cults
which his audience knew and loved. In the present case it is the worship of
Artemis in Halae and Brauron which is founded by the goddess.
While in the three plays just discussed Euripides employed recognition and
intrigue with a regularity which threatened to become a pattern, in the Ion he
produced an elaborately entangled play, probably the finest of his tyche-
dramas. Nowhere is it made as clear how much the poet was concerned in
dramas of this kind to strike the many notes with which he touches the human
heart. It must also be admitted that this kind of emotion is worlds apart from
the shock with which the Oresteia and the Oedipus send us home.
Once upon a time Apollo had enjoyed the love of Erechtheus’ daughter
Creusa on the Acropolis. Hermes, who speaks the prologue, was commissioned
by him to take her child to Delphi, where the boy Ion grows up in the pious
surroundings of temple service. Creusa, however, is given to Xuthus, who is
the ruling king of Athens. Since the marriage remains childless, the couple go
to Delphi, Creusa accompanied by her serving women, who form the chorus.
Their first song, which follows upon a monody of Ion’s, is noteworthy in that
its subject is the works of art on the temple of Apollo. In a scene of the most
subtle nuances mother and son meet and discuss their fates in veiled and allusive
terms: the one who grew up without a mother and the woman whose child
had been taken from her.
Xuthus asks the god about his childlessness, and the latter commences a subtly,
or rather too subtly — as will soon appear — contrived deception. Through an
oracle he passes Ion on to Xuthus as his son, and the king, full of joy, believes the
oracle, for he can remember adventures of which Ion could well be a reminder.
He is to go and live in the palace in Athens, but not at once as the king’s son,
to spare Creusa. Then she flies into the wildest passion. She had to lose her own
child and now she is supposed to watch the bastard with title and honour in her
house! From her bitterness grows the plan to murder Ion, which she discusses
with her father’s old pedagogue who is going to carry it out. But we learn from
the messenger-speech which this time, contrary to the custom, is taken over by

1 a. sprrA, Untersuchungen zum deus ex machina bei Soph. und Eur. Diss. Frankfurt. Kall-
miinz, 1960, makes the noteworthy attempt to draw the deus ex machina back into the
collective interpretation of the dramas. For Sophocles this is much more successful than for
Euripides. In cases like the Iph. Taur. it should not be overlooked that the foundation of
the cult is rather like an appendix.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the chorus, that the attempt to kill Jon at the banquet with poisoned wine has
miscarried. Through the pedagogue’s confession Creusa has been revealed as
the originator and she is now to be executed. Threatened by Ion she flees to the
altar; then the Pythia brings the little chest in which the child was once exposed
with various objects and the mother and son recognize each other with the aid
of these things which later in New Comedy are to play their typical role. At
the end Athena comes on to make some arrangements which ensure a satis-
factory finish to the further events.
It will not be wrong to date the Jon soon after the Helen. The tested pro-
cedures of the tyche-plays have been employed here with consummate skill.
The poet’s stroke of elevating Ion so high and moreover making Erechtheus’
daughter the origin of all the Greek tribes should also be understood within
this time when probably few people were thinking of the collapse of Athenian
power, for according to Athena’s prophecy she was yet to become through
Xuthus the mother of Dorus and Achaeus.
This play once more raises the problem of how Euripides viewed the gods
of the tradition. It has been pointed out that after all Apollo does put everything
properly in order and therefore appears to be vindicated in his wisdom and
providence. But this does not yet touch upon the poet’s position with regard to
these problems. Athena’s speech especially appears in the twilight which lies
over Euripides’ world of gods. The pious Athenian could look with astonish-
ment at the appearance of the patron goddess and be pleased with her prudence.
But any one who looked more closely could not help noticing the blemishes
on this splendour. How deplorably the great god of Delphi shows up who does
not want to appear in person before mortals, because they might say all sorts of
bitter things to him (1157)! But the most striking part is that the god has made
a palpable miscalculation; it had been so well thought out that the deceived
Xuthus was to take Ion into his house, who was not to find his mother until he
was there. Creusa’s passion spoiled the plan and the whole business narrowly
escaped turning out badly. So gods also have to take the annoying tricks of
Tyche into account — not a grand fate which can also bend their will, but the
whims of peevish chance which cross their not quite honest plans. However,
Athene industriously goes on elaborating her brother’s projects; it will be better
to leave Xuthus in the dark about the actual state of affairs.
In the Jon a number of themes has been combined which Euripides has
frequently utilized elsewhere. In the Aegeus, which preceded the Medea, the
machinations of the Colchian persuaded the king to plan the killing of Theseus
on his return home, but then father and son recognize each other. In the
Alexander it was a whim of chance which made Paris nearly die at the hands of
his kinsmen. Similarly in the Cresphontes the hero was nearly killed by his own
mother, because in the course of the plot he pretended to be his own murderer.
The plot of the Antiope! is clear to a certain extent. The play is chronologically
close to the Jon, for the scholium Ran. 53 numbers it with the Hypsipyle and the
Phoenician Women as a play which was only a little earlier than the Frogs and it
’ PAGE (cf. p. 382, n. 2), 60 with bibl.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

has to be dated later than the Andromeda which was performed in 412. Here
Antiope flees from the evil Dirce who wants to have her gored by a bull; she
comes to Amphion and Zethus whom she once bore to Zeus. The recognition
brought about Antiope’s rescue and Dirce’s just punishment. This play was
noteworthy because it revealed a break between the two Theban Dioscuri,
brought about by the sophistic movement; Amphion and Zethus opposed each
other as the representatives of the contemplative and the active life, of the
Gewpytixos and the mpaxtixds Bios, like Epimetheus and Prometheus in
Goethe’s Pandora.
The murder of kinsmen became frightful reality in the Ino. Themisto wants
to kill the children of Ino who, as the former wife of Athamas, used to have her
position; she orders that her own children are to be given white covers, but
those of Ino black ones. The opposite is done, and at night Themisto strikes her
own children with a deadly blow.
With the proviso that in this sort of survey of lost plays we can only give some
information about subject matter, and not of internal structure, we mention a
few more plays which dealt with the carrying off of girls, secret birth and
recognition of children, all of them themes on which New Comedy subsisted
later.
There is Melanippe, who bore Poseidon twins. Euripides treated her fate in
two plays. In the Wise Melanippe (M. 7 cod) the heroine fights for the life of
her children who had been concealed in a cowshed and were found there. The
Captive Melanippe (M. 7) decries) related how Melanippe, blinded and locked
up by her father, was saved after many complications by her sons.! The Alope,
which is again concerned with an exposed and found child of Poseidon’s,
presents thematic parallels with these two plays; so does the Hypsipyle,* whose
late date we ascertained through the scholium to Aristoph. Ran. 53. Here the
twin sons, whom Hypsipyle had conceived from fason during his stay in
Lemnos, rescue their mother from a distressing situation into which she had
come through the death of a child of which she had to take care.
The Danae also dealt with the fate of a mortal woman over whom a god’s
love brought suffering. In the Auge, however, it was Heracles who at a noc-
turnal banquet (once more New Comedy presents itself for comparison) makes
the priestess of Athena pregnant. The play contained (fr. 266) a protest, typical
of the enlightenment, against the notion that a confinement could pollute the
house of a goddess who was not unwilling to accept the armour of the fallen as
dedicatory offerings.
The stepmother theme, which also played a part in the Jon, controlled the
plot of the Phrixus. Here Ino invents an oracle demanding the sacrifice of her
stepson for a failure of the crop, caused by Ino herself by baking the seed-corn.
He showed his kinship with the devoted characters of other plays by being
prepared to sacrifice his life when the deception came to light. Ino was to fall
but then Dionysus appeared as the deus ex machina and saved her.
« On the two Melanippe plays PAGE (v. sup.), 108. 116.
2 PAGE (v. sup.), 76.
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The Phoenissae is among the plays which the scholium mentioned above
relegates to 412. It was performed together with the Oenomaus and the Chry-
sippus. The mutilated hypothesis of Aristophanes of Byzantium appears to
indicate a certain affinity of contents of the three plays, but its extent is uncertain.
If it is permissible to draw an inference from the few plays which survive
from the poet’s last Athenian period, he seems to have attempted to crowd an
increasingly large quantity of subject matter into the framework of the plot,
which he makes as exciting as possible. After Jocasta’s introductory prologue
the Homeric theme of watching the battle from the wall has been skilfully
transferred to Antigone, who can thus carry on with the exposition and extend
our understanding of the situation beyond the stage. The Phoenissae has an agon
scene with particularly strong accents. At the call of his mother, Polynices comes
into the city for the final negotiations about the sharing of the kingship. In
spite of their names, which had been coined by the ancient legend, the nature
of the two brothers has been altered in the sense of a ‘salvation’ of Polynices,
who is ready for a conciliation, suffering as he does at being far from his country,
which makes him bear the fate of an exile which was only too familiar to the
poet’s contemporaries; Eteocles, however, has a boundless lust for power, the
sort of man whom the extremists among the sophists loved to depict as the true
son of nature. The negotiations fail and Polynices goes to the Argive army to
lead it against his native city. Eteocles, counselled by his uncle Creon, neces-
sarily assumes the role of the defender of Thebes, but this does not imply a
change of personality or the genuine tragedy of double motivation as in
Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes. Tiresias is also consulted and he advises Creon
that Thebes can only be saved through the sacrifice of his son Menoeceus.
Creon wants to save the boy and tells him to flee to Delphi. But Menoeceus is
obedient to the oracle and voluntarily sacrifices his life. Two messenger-
speeches conclude the threads of the plot with which the first part opened. The
one describes how the assault of the Seven failed, but that the hostile brothers
are preparing for the decisive combat. The second recounts how the brothers
slew each other and Jocasta killed herself over their corpses. The dying Polynices
asks to be buried in Thebes and this anticipates future events; his words of love
for his brother are a piece of Euripidean stagecraft which is far removed from
the harshness of the older tragedy.
But the play is not yet ended. Creon, as Thebes’ new ruler, decrees Oedipus’
exile and forbids Polynices to be buried in Theban soil. Then Antigone
approaches. She refuses to accept the prohibition of burial and promises to bury
her brother with her own hands. She declares that her betrothal to Haemon,
Creon’s son, is dissolved and wants to follow her father in his wretchedness.
The lyrics of the chorus which form a kind of cycle of the Theban myths,
have been skilfully fitted into the Phoenissae. The chorus are Phoenician slave-
women. who are travelling to Delphi; this curious fact is possibly due to the
tendency to gain effect by means of the unusual.
The assessment of this play, which is among those read most and which
maintained its place in Byzantine schools alongside the Hecabe and the Orestes,
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has been a bone of violent contention. The hypothesis of a later date is evidence
of the ancient critical opinion that it owed its effect on the stage to the range of
themes it comprised, but that it contained parts which had been inserted without
any organic connection. More recently this judgment has been opposed with an
attempt" to interpret it as a play of the Theban polis and to assign to it a com-
pact and organic composition around this centre. And the fate of Thebes must
indeed be considered the framework within which everything happens, but it
still makes a difference whether such a framework can only be recognized or
whether the separate parts are as closely connected as is the case in Sophocles’
best plays which are witnesses of the mature classical period. Much of the
traditional criticism of Euripides indubitably requires reconsideration, but it
would be a mistake to want to interpret away the lack of balance both in his
work as a whole and in the individual plays.
Special problems are connected with the ending of the Phoenissae. Antigone’s
proclamation that she is going to bury Polynices in opposition to the prohibi-
tion, and her departure as the companion of her blind father in his hardship
cannot be readily harmonized. It is at least permissible to enquire what really
happened to Polynices. Consequently it has been attempted? to cut out the
burial theme and to assign the relevant lines to a later revision. Nevertheless it
is hazardous to remove from a play whose inclination towards abundance of
subject matter was already observed by ancient criticism, a theme which contri-
butes to this abundance in the concluding portion, even if it may upset the
logical balance. Moreover, since Sophocles the burial theme had been so closely
allied with Antigone that it is difficult to imagine Euripides giving up this
feature. The last few lines, approximately from 1737 or 1742 onward, however,
have justly been suspected as spurious. The Strasbourg papyrus of tragic lyrics3
has not taken this passage into consideration.
Euripides’ Antigone has been mentioned earlier (p. 373). He also wrote an
Oedipus, probably at a later date to judge from the long trochaic lines. Its
contents differed greatly from that of Sophocles, although we only know that
some servants blinded Oedipus.*
The Orestes, of 408, is the last play which we know to have been performed in
Athens before the poet’s departure for Macedon. It is not a coincidence that the
ancient criticism of the play, as it has been preserved in the hypothesis, is
comparable with the one on the Phoenissae. The composition of the later play
is more compact, but nevertheless the tendency towards animating the plot by
means of repeated new twists can be clearly discerned. These twists made it a
hit on the stage. We connect the relevant observations of the hypothesis with
the repeat performances which occurred frequently of Euripides’ plays; for
the Orestes there is epigraphical evidence of such a performance in the year 341

1 RIEMENSCHNEIDER and LuDwiIGc (both ». inf.).

2 W.H. FRIEDRICH, ‘Prolegomena zu den Phoin.’. Herm. 74, 1939, 265.
3 BR. SNELL, Herm. E 5, 1937, 69.
4 L. DEUBNER, ‘Odipusprobleme’. Sitzb. Berl. 1942/4, 19 is a doubtful attempt to derive
the contents of the play from the Pisander scholium on Phoen. 1760.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

(IG I/II and ed. no. 2320). Beside this acknowledgment we read the opinion
that this play shows only bad characters with the exception of Pylades. This had
been repeated for a long time, until a fresh start was made with the attempt! to
enquire into what the poet really had in mind here. It certainly was not possible
for him to make Orestes into a hero whom we follow with sympathy, although
the guilt for the matricide in the meaning of the Electra falls heavily on Apollo.
Nor are the means with which the three people are fighting for their lives
always of such a kind as to evoke the impression of lofty sentiments. But this
battle, which is a matter of life and death, is directed against a world full of
venal baseness and merciless malice. Because of this and the way in which these
people unite into an indissoluble alliance in love and loyalty, they may claim
our sympathy and gain it,
The play opens with an impressive tableau. In front of the palace of the
Atridae, which is imagined to be in Argos,” Electra is nursing her brother who
has been on the verge of death since the murder of his mother. She speaks the
prologue to explain the situation; later she warns the chorus of Argive women
to tread softly when they enter. In place of the customary parodos a joint
lament over Orestes’ suffering is sung. The scene after his awakening shows the
disturbance of his darkened soul, but it also reveals the deep love which binds
the two even closer in distress. Menelaus has now come back with Helen from
his lengthy wanderings, and all the hopes of brother and sister hang on his
intervention on behalf of Orestes against the roused city. The manner in which
Menelaus approaches them leaves their hopes open, but then Tyndareus comes,
the father of the murdered Clytemnestra; in a long verbal duel with Orestes
he persuades Menelaus to back out, and this he does, trying laboriously to hide
his cowardice behind fine words.
Aristotle (Poet. 15. 1454 a) has quoted this Menelaus as a model of a character
needlessly depicted as evil. We are rather of the opinion that the poet showed
so much wretchedness in order to make Orestes’ will to resist increase at the
sight of it. Wholly lethargic in the opening scenes, he is aroused to vigorous
action in the next. He is greatly heartened by the arrival of his friend Pylades
who wants to share every peril with the two. At his advice Orestes decides to
conduct his own case in the Argive popular assembly. But this attempt also
miscarries. Only one stout-hearted countryman stands up for the justice which,
in spite of everything, was behind Orestes’ deed. Once more, as in the Electra,
we meet with one of those characters which put ancient class prejudices to
shame. But demagogues have the upper hand; the result is that Orestes and
Electra are convicted and are to take their own lives. Human nobility is en-
hanced to theatrical gesture in the true Euripidean manner when Pylades wants
to die with his friends. But first they are going to revenge themselves on Mene-
laus. They will kill Helen who is guilty of all the evil; with this plan of ven-
geance is connected the idea that they may perhaps gain glory and work out their
salvation. Electra contributes the advice to get hold of Hermione, Menelaus’
daughter, as a hostage against him. The girl is captured when she comes back
' KRIEG (v. inf.) inter alios. ae Cisp seas
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from Clytemnestra’s tomb. The poet brings the carrying-out of the attempt
against Helen onto the stage in his most curious messenger-speech. A Phrygian
slave, who has come from Troy with Helen, has fled from the palace in fear of
his life and now reports in a lyric scene, surcharged with emotion and written
in a strange style which resembles the muttering of barbarians and anticipates
the baroque manner of Timotheus’ Persians, how inside the friends tried to take
Helen’s life, but that she made a miraculous escape.
The final scene is composed in a more turbulent manner than in any other of
Euripides’ plays. The three conspirators appear on the roof, Orestes with
Hermione against whom he has drawn his sword. Menelaus is raging impotently
in front of the locked palace gate. Finally he has to capitulate to Orestes’ demand
for intervention on their behalf with the Argives; he gives in with the words:
“You have got me’ (1617)! Now we quite understand that a dramatic poet
cannot finish a play by making Orestes leave the stage with Menelaus after this
forcible peace. But Euripides expects a bit too much when Orestes answers
Menelaus’ acceptance of his terms with the order to set fire to the palace. This
astonishing reaction can be explained neither with psychology nor in any other
way, it simply serves to carry the situation to its extreme. In the midst of this
confusion which seems to be without remedy, Apollo appears as the deus ex
machina, and if there was ever any need of someone to re-establish order, it is
here. And he goes about it in a most efficient manner; he announces that Helen
has been carried off, and she appears beside him; then, that Orestes will be
acquitted by the Areopagus; he ratifies the union of Pylades with Electra,
adding the promise that Orestes will take Hermione to wife, even if he did
not approach her at first in a very loving manner. This ending, but not it
alone, demonstrates that in these last Athenian years the poet’s longing for
fullness and effect began to have a dangerous influence on the quality of his
art.
The Ixion, dealing with the great mythical criminal, the Polyidus in which
the figure of this seer, and prophecy generally, must have played a part, and
the Phaéton, belong to a later period. Of the latter large fragments survive in
manuscript form,' but the restoration of the play is still a problem. Phaeton was
supposed to become Aphrodite’s husband, so much is clear; it is more difficult
to find out in what way this caused him to proclaim his descent from the sun
and to demand the fatal ride in the sun’s chariot.
In 408 there was a Euripides performance in Athens and he probably was still
there himself; in 406 he died at the court of Archelaus. The short sojourn in
Macedon produced an extraordinary variety of works. It is more likely that he
wrote the Archelaus? in Macedon, a play in which he created for his host a fore-
father with admirable qualities, than it is to assume that he wrote it earlier and
that the invitation to come to Macedon was the result of this homage; it is
likely that we shall not suffer much heartbreak over the loss of this play.
1 Fr, 781 N.; H. VOLMER, De Eur. fab. quae ®. inscribitur restituenda. Diss. Miinster 1930.
2 A new fragment turned up in the Hamburg Pap. no. 118: £.SIEGMANN, Verdffentlichungen
der Hamburger Staats- und Universitatsbibl. 4, 1954, 1.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The poet deployed and enhanced the full wealth of his genius in the plays of
the Macedonian period which his son of the same name (Schol. Aristoph. Ran.
67; Suidas knows of a nephew of this name) put on the stage after his father’s
death, and won the victory which his father so seldom did in his lifetime.
Two of these plays survive, the Iphigenia in Aulis and the Bacchae. The lost
Alemeon in Corinth seems to have had a close affinity with the plays of the time
of the Jon. Tyche contrived that Alcmeon unwittingly bought his own daughter
as a slave. Anagnorisis necessarily was the dominant theme of this play.
In many of the later plays of Euripides a new wealth and a new quickening
of emotions is shown; this development has its peak in the Iphigenia in Aulis, one
of his finest creations.
The opening of the play is unusual. The descriptive iambic prologue in the
customary style has been fitted within an anapaestic scene between Agamemnon
and a trusted servant. It is hardly possible to assume that this whole section was
uniformly transmitted in view of the discrepancies in style of the two parts
mentioned. The anapaests are partly of a lofty content, and a similar use in
Ennius (Iph. fr. 1. 2 KI.) and in Chrysippus (fr. 180 A) are evidence of their
ancient lineage. It is quite possible to credit Euripides with such an opening,
for he also began his Andromeda with the heroine’s anapaests to which Echo
responded. An obvious explanation of the striking composition of the opening
passage of this play is that two of the poet’s drafts were mixed up.!
The first scenes are extremely agitated and emotional. Agamemnon has
ordered Clytemnestra to come to the army camp in Aulis with Iphigenia,
ostensibly to marry the girl to Achilles, but actually to immolate her to Artemis
so that the fleet may have a fair wind. He now thinks that he will be unable to
commit this frightful deed and has despatched the old man with a second letter
which revokes the instructions of the first.
The parodos of Chalcidian women has been particularly boldly conceived.
Partly adopting the form of the epic catalogue in lyric metre, they give a picture
of the assembled fleet and its heroes. Thereupon Menelaus comes dashing in. He
has intercepted the old servant and does not spare any reproaches for his
brother’s vacillation. After a scene of violent quarrelling Clytemmestra’s arrival
is reported, and when Menelaus now sees his brother’s despair, his mood
changes. He profters his hand to Agamemnon and is prepared to forgo the
sacrifice. Their roles are now completely reversed, for Agamemnon declares
that it is impossible to stop the course of things. The meeting with his wife and
child, with a Clytemnestra who has not yet been estranged from him, and a
tenderly loving Iphigenia, causes Agamemnon renewed distress and suffering.
The two are still without misgivings, but then Clytemnestra meets Achilles,
whom shejoyfully greets as her daughter’s future husband. The scene between
the two unconscious victims of this deception contains, in spite of the tragic
mood, the elements of comedy of situation, without which neither New Comedy
nor its European offspring could be imagined.
' EB. FRAENKEL, Studi in onore U. E. Paoli. Florence 1955, 302, allots the anapaests to Eur.,
the trimeters to a later author.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Iphigenia also learns now why she had to come to Aulis, and like Clytem-
nestra she resists. But while her mother hurls bitter reproaches at the man who
wants to sacrifice his child, Iphigenia, in youth’s ardent desire to live, begs for
her life in the most touching tones. She denies the highest tenet of the ancient
aristocratic creed, when she concludes her great speech with the words:
better to live in shame than die in glory (1252). But this is not her last
word.
In Agamemnon’s rejoinder a significant change of the aspect under which
the planned expedition against Troy is seen, becomes evident. What previously
appeared to be chiefly a private matter of the Atridae, the elopement of a wife
and her recapture, proves now to be a great national undertaking of the Greeks
as the decisive act in the struggle against Asiatic despotism. Soon the meaning
of the expedition which depends on her immolation is revealed to Iphigenia
from a different side. In the scene with Clytemnestra outlined earlier, Achilles
has at once joined the side of the women. He cannot tolerate any bandying
about of his name, and is going to protect Iphigenia under any circumstances.
But when he is ready to stand by his promise and prevent the sacrifice, the
army’s wrath is roused against him, and it seems that he will have to sacrifice
his life for the pledge which he has given. Then Iphigenia intervenes, an
Iphigenia different from the one who begged for her life and assailed her
father’s heart with tender memories. She restrains Clytemnestra’s reproaches
against Agamemnon and also checks Achilles’ preparedness for self-sacrifice.
She now sees her road clear and is ready to take it to ensure victory for the
Hellenic arms. She consoles her mother, sings a hymn to Artemis who demands
her sacrifice and then goes to meet her death.
The transmission of the ending is hopeless. A fragment in Aelian (Hist. An.
7. 39) seems to be from the genuine ending and to be related to a version, in
which Artemis as dea ex machina rescued Iphigenia by substituting a doe as the
victim and probably proclaimed that she had been carried off to enter the
goddess’s service. The ending is lost (perhaps Euripides left it unfinished) and
was replaced by a messenger-speech to Clytemnestra describing the miracle
which occurred at the scene of the sacrifice. This speech, which was perhaps
written for the posthumous performance, must in turn have lost its ending, for
what we read at the end at present is probably a Byzantine restoration.
In this play Euripides has worked the frequently used theme of voluntary
sacrificial death into a particularly effective climax. In many plays it remained
an episode, but here it is the central theme and as such it has been related to a
new conception of the psychological processes which induce such an offer. In
some of the oldest plays there are already beginnings of the description of a
change of character, as for instance in the case of Admetus and Heracles, but
here we see for the first time, as a subject for a play, a change in the soul of a
young woman which leads from fear of death and passionate clinging to life
onto a firm and wholly voluntary readiness for sacrifice. We do not claim that
this change is described, i.e. traced through its separate phases. The Iphigenia in
Aulis represents a tremendous advance towards the new drama, but it is only a
oO 397
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

beginning. The poet shows the starting- and finishing-point of a psychological

process, both with great penetration.
In general the Greek demanded consistency of character in the figures of great
poetry, chiefly those of tragedy. Euripides stood isolated with his Iphigenia in
Aulis, and the great judges of his art did not show any understanding for him.
In the Poetics (15. 1454) Aristotle censured the play, because the Iphigenia who
feared death cannot be considered to have anything in common with the one
who made the supreme heroic sacrifice. We observe, without echoing it, that
this judgment is typical of Greek thought.
Euripides’ work is largely controlled by the intermingling of elementary
emotion and rational thought, which expresses his personality as well as that
of the generality of his contemporaries, who saw everywhere the advance of a
new age over the ruins of tradition. The Bacchae as the final creation is symbolic
of these tensions within Euripides’ work. The subject was taken from one of
those legends which probably reflect the resistance of reason against Dionysian
frenzy rather than historical events during the spreading of the cult. Here it is
the Theban king Pentheus who opposes the god, thus encouraging him to take
a cruel revenge. Pentheus is torn to pieces by the throng of Maenads led by his
own mother and her sisters. Aeschylus had already treated the same subject in
his Pentheus.
Hardly any other of Euripides’ plays has been pulled so much hither and
thither as this one. It has been interpreted as something like the poet’s con-
version; his scepticism had been silenced at the end of his life by the mighty call
of the soul-redeeming god. The rationalism at the turn of the century, which is
still finding followers, preferred the other extreme. Its adherents saw Pentheus
as the man who carried on the struggle against madness and delusion on behalf
of reason even though he might perish in the process. Only in this play was
Euripides the true fighter against a tradition which produced gods like these.
The simplifying radicalism of these two interpretations has been abandoned
now. There is no doubt that this play is the result of a genuine attempt of the
poet to understand the Dionysiac phenomenon, and this means neither con-
version nor rationalistic protest. It has been justly observed that in Euripides’
later plays an increasing interest in mysticism and ecstasy is expressed which can
well be reconciled with his renunciation of the universe of official myth domi-
nated by epic poetry. Account should also be taken of impressions he received
of foreign orgiastic cults like those of the Thracian Bendis or the Phrygian
Sabazius when these invaded Athens during the Peloponnesian war; he also had
an opportunity to see the cult of Dionysus much more directly in Macedon
than anywhere else in Greece. During an important period of his creative
activity Euripides had selected the irrational forces in man’s soul as a basic

" Important passages on the demand for consistency of nature in Cicero, De Of 1.110
114. 144. Also WOLF-H. FRIEDRICH, Nachr. Ak. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1960/4, 107. .
2 Otherwise ZURCHER (v. inf.), 184.
3 In add. to the bibl. mentioned in R. NIHARD, Mus. Belge 16, 1912, 91, DILLER’S work on
the Bacchae (v. inf.) and LEsKy, 199, 1 and 200, 2.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
dramatic theme; once more he now gave it splendid shape in this play and so
mastered the irrational which seemed to him to come from completely different
spheres. The worship of Dionysus with its puzzling polarity has never been cast
in a more impressive form. There are descriptions of the deep peace with which
the god envelops man. When the women of the Dionysian thiasos are peace-
fully slumbering in the mountain forest, when they give suck to the young
offspring of wild animals and strike the ground with their thyrsos to produce
refreshing drink, all hostile separation of man from nature has been overcome
and the bliss of union has been achieved of which Nietzsche spoke in dithy-
rambic words. But it is these same women who reply to any disturbance of
their spell with a Maenadic frenzy, overrun the settlements in the valleys with
elemental violence, tear deer to pieces and perform prodigies of savage strength.
Euripides saw the Dionysiac element as a mirror of nature, perhaps even more
as a mirror of all life in this polarity of peace and tumult, of smiling charm and
demoniac destruction. He shows in the two messenger-speeches, the most
perfect written, a picture which is overpowering in its contradictions. The first
message of the doings of the Bacchae (677) puts the reality of Dionysiac worship
before Pentheus, the second (1043) narrates the catastrophe. The women,
goaded on by the god, espy Pentheus who is watching them from the top of a
fir tree; they tear the tree out by its roots, and fall upon the unfortunate king in
raging anger; his own mother, gloating over her quarry, tears his arm, together
with the shoulder, out of his body.
The god’s antagonist, Pentheus, king of Thebes, embodies that part of man-
kind which clings to what is closest at hand, tangible and directly intelligible,
countering the seduction of the irrational with bitter opposition. In a scene
which borders on the grotesque, he meets with the seer Tiresias and his grand-
father Cadmus who bow to the new god like devoted servants. His resistance
only increases at seeing them and hearing their admonitions. The god, as he
proclaims himself in the prologue, has assumed a human shape and has come to
Thebes, where the sisters of his mother Semele, among them Agave, Pentheus’
mother, doubt his divinity. He wishes to punish them and to win the city over
to his worship. In his human shape he allows himself to be caught by Pentheus’
men and is led before the king. Through his double role he gains the upper
hand at the hearing and escapes effortlessly from the prison to which Pentheus
condemns him. The scene of his liberation is followed by the one of the messen-
ger-speech about the doings of the rioting women, which increases the king’s
anger still further, while at the same time rousing his curiosity. The situation
which follows is of a tragic irony differing from the one depicted by Sophocles.
The opponent of deception and illusion falls through the very stirrings of the
irrational which the god manages to evoke in his soul. The urge to watch what
is concealed, coupled with feelings of lust, drives him, confused and oddly
benumbed, to follow the god who is taking him to the mountain forest. There
Dionysus makes him climb up to the top of the fir tree and leaves him to fall a
victim to the Maenads.
In the scene in which Agave brings in the head of her dead son on the thyrsos
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and gloats over her prey, Euripides went to the greatest length to which a
Greek tragedian ever dared to go. Her slow awakening to the horror of reality
is depicted with consummate psychological skill. The concluding portion sur-
vives incomplete. Once more, as in the opening, Dionysus appeared as the god,
drove Agave and probably her sisters as well into exile, but had the consoling
promise for Cadmus, that after long suffering he was to win a dwelling in the
land of the Blessed together with his wife Harmonia.
Here, where for us Greek tragedy ends, we experience once more the
frightening miracle of Dionysiac frenzy which formed one of its beginnings.
In many of Euripides’ later plays we had reason to doubt whether they were
compatible with our notion of tragedy; here, however, the tragic contrast
between man who wants to cling to reason and the world of the irrational has
been depicted with the utmost harshness.
The great inner force which pervades this work is matched by a compactness
of form which is almost unexampled in Euripides’ work. The chorus of Lydian
Bacchantes who are following the god on his triumphant progress is more
closely connected with the plot than anywhere else. The length of the choral
lyric has been increased, so that the sung parts of the actors have become of
secondary importance; the stichomythiae are numerous and of rigorous con-
struction.
For a long time Euripides’ Cyclops was the only play which gave us an idea
of a Greek satyr play. But since we have come into the possession of large parts
of Sophocles’ Ichneutae and at least one intelligible scene from Aeschylus’
Dictyulci, we know that this conception was quite onesided. The easy brightness,
the sparkling fairyland freshness of these fictions were not within the scope of
Euripides’ art. In connection with the Alcestis we already remarked that in more
than one case he concluded a tetralogy with a play ending happily rather than
with a satyr-play.
This does not imply that there is no wit at all in the Cyclops, but it is of a
different nature than in the plays of which we have now some fragments; it is
more deeply controlled by the intellect.
Odysseus’ adventure with the Cyclops, which was also on occasion a subject
for comedy, necessarily had to be given a stage version which differed from the
epic narrative. The plot could no longer be enacted inside a cave; it was visible
in the background and, as has been recently demonstrated,! it was supposed to
have a second exit at the rear for the final scene, like the cave in Sophocles’
Philoctetes. The significance of the blinding changes with the scene; in Homer it
led to the rescue of the prisoners, now it is Odysseus’ revenge for the killing of
his companions. It cannot always have been easy for the poets of satyr-plays to
link the chorus of lewd woodland demons with the legendary subject chosen.
A favourite expedient, which Euripides used here and probably also in the
Busiris, Sciron and Syleus, was to let the satyrs become the slaves of amonster.
This also offered an opportunity to extract some crude humour from their
‘ A. M. DALE, ‘Seen and Unseen on the Greek Stage’. Wien. Stud. 69, 1956, 105. Cf. also
P. D., ARNOTT, An Introduction to the Greek Theatre. Lond. 1959, 130.
400
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
cowardice and cunning. Thus in the Cyclops their leader and father Silenus is
also the most humorous character. He serves the Cyclops as his cupbearer and
even becomes the grotesque object of his amorous attention when he is drunk.
Euripides put particular stress on the figure of the Cyclops, and he stresses him
in the typical Euripidean manner. This giant spurns the law on principle, he
only sacrifices to himself or to his stomach, without bothering about law or
custom. He is thus made into an extremist adherent of natural Justice, offering,
according to the poet’s purpose, an effective illustration of the doctrines which
at the time were being championed by the most radical among the sophists.
There is no secure basis for dating the play, since we know too little of the
development of the genre to be able to classify individual phenomena with any
certainty. What we observed with regard to the drawing of the Cyclops
recommends, together with the free form of the triple dialogue, a dating in the
later period as the closest approximation.
We forgo an attempt to give a comprehensive characterisation of Euripides’
work because of the antinomies inherent in it. A summary can therefore only
mean a discussion of these. Some remarks about the formal elements may be
useful as a starting-point.
It has long been observed that in Euripides individual parts, which are also
present in the older tragedies, are marked off more sharply and tend to assume
an existence of their own. This does not mean that the plays of our poet are
broken up into their constituent parts, and recently it has been endeavoured,
and rightly so, to do justice to Euripides’ constructive skill in opposition to
criticism of this kind.! The separate limbs do indeed form part of a living
organism, but this does not exclude the fact that they stand out sharply as parts
of the whole and are subject to their own laws of form.
The informative prologue of a single speaker forms an introduction typical
of Euripides.? It was observed in connection with the Iphigenia in Aulis that
later the poet sought other ways. It is not always the task of the prologue to
anticipate the course of the plot in order to make possible a more complete
enjoyment of the work by removing the suspense connected with the subject,
as Lessing assumed in the Hamburgische Dramaturgie. Only prologues spoken by
gods can achieve this, and they too leave open plenty of moments of tension.
The Euripidean prologue served rather to explain the background of the plot;
the poet’s innovations in the subject matter easily found their place next to the
tradition. Earlier (p. 228) we developed the notion that the explanatory pro-
logue is one of the earliest manifestations of spoken verse. If this is correct, the
Euripidean prologue appears to be an archaism. Since it has generally been cast
as plain narrative, the possibility is left open of increased effect in the following
scenes. The verbal argument shows a particularly vigorous independent life.*
This fact has often been overlooked, so that attempts were made, as in the case

1 Esp. tupwic, Sapheneia (v. inf.).

2 M.IMHOF, Bemerkungen zu den Prologen der soph. u. eurip. Tragddien. Diss. Bern. Winter-
thur 1957.
3 J. DUCHEMIN, L’ ATON dans la trag. gr. Paris 1945.
401
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

of the Alcestis, to derive the meaning of the play from the argumentation of the
agon. In these passages Greek quarrelsomeness was given full rein, and they
benefited extensively from the passionate delight of the Athenians in court
proceedings. Any weapon will serve and the myths are also used in a manner
which demonstrates once more that they are being undermined. The formal
construction of the agon scenes is strictly observed, resting on the alternation of
stichomythia, a kind of verbal fencing, and prolonged speeches.
Such rheseis of imposing size are often found in other positions in Euripidean
tragedy as well. In this respect the question is urged upon us to what extent
Euripides depends on the rhetoric of his age.' Its influence has long been
exaggerated, but nobody now considers Euripides to have been the poet who
worked according to the rules of rhetoric. Of course, in view of the well-
planned and often clearly-marked construction of many speeches it cannot be
denied that contemporary interest in speech cast into an artistic form also had
its influence on Euripides.
It has become clear during the discussion of the individual plays, that the
messenger-speeches, as epic achievements of the highest order, are special orna-
ments of Euripidean tragedy, consciously shaped as such by the poet.
Typical features are displayed in the form of the endings with the frequent
use of the deus ex machina.2 He does not have to sever the knot by any means,
although he is a convenient expedient for putting things swiftly in order at the
end. Sometimes, as in the Iphigenia in Tauris, a delay is purposely put into the
plot which is speeding towards a smooth ending, in order to make it possible
for the deus ex machina to put in an appearance. In such a case it is obvious that
his most important function is to found the cult which is the result of the events.
In this way Euripides stresses at the end of the play the return to the tradition
of worship. There are reasons to assume that the Aeschylean trilogies also ended
frequently with the founding of a cult and so we can establish a link between
Euripides and the eldest of the great tragedians; this link also exists in other
respects.’ We recall in passing the utilization of special stage effects by the two
tragedians mentioned, a usage in which they differed markedly from Sophocles.
Euripidean choral lyric must by no means be generally characterized as an
insertion foreign to the plot. The late Bacchae especially shows an unusually
close connection of the chorus with the happenings on the stage. But in this
respect Euripides’ work is also uneven and there is a whole series of songs which
are independent lyrical narratives. Walther Kranz called them dithyrambic
stasima.4 With the exception of one lyric from the Hecabe, which is an earlier
form, they belong to Euripides’ later period in which the choral lyric was
subjected to other profound changes as well. This New Lyric shows an aie Son

1 Pp. TIETZE, Die eur. Reden und ihre Bedeutung. Diss. Breslau 1933.
2 sptrA’sS work, which attempts to prove a close link between the deus ex machina and the
structure of the drama, is referred to on p. 389 n. 1.
° 0. KRAUSSE, De Eur. Aeschyli instauratore. Diss. Jena 1905.
* Hec. 905, Tro. 511, El. 432. 699, Hel. 1301, Iph. T. 1234, Phoen. 638. 1019, Iph. A. 164.
751. 1036. KRANZ, Stasimon. Berl. 1933, 254.
402
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
richness of language which at times appears curiously incongruous with the
contents. Aristophanes sharply parodied this sort of thing in the Thesmophori-
azusae (49) and the Frogs (1300). Many of the texts of Euripides reveal that
here and there the chorus is only incidental to the music. We know that it was
the flamboyant, restless music, aiming at harsh effects, of the new Attic dithy-
ramb,' which had a profound influence on Euripides. Among the tragedians it
was used above all by Agathon; a strong influence was exerted by Timotheus,
both of whom tradition allies with Euripides as friends.
Similar trends affected the actor’s aria, which in Euripides gains ground at
the expense of the choral lyric. This development, which we also observed in
the older Sophocles, does not, of course, proceed in a straight line, and is later
crossed to a certain extent by the New Lyric of the chorus,” but a play like the
Orestes has only two strophic lyrics left in contrast with the boldly developed
monodies.
It is part and parcel of the paradoxes in Euripides’ work that the increasing
flamboyance of the wording of the choral lyrics was contrasted in the dialogue
by a simple and pure diction which, with certain reservations, approached col-
loquial speech. It is also contrasted by Aeschylus’ impetus and the noble control,
combined with a great capacity for modulation, of Sophocles.
Another contradiction in Euripides’ work, apart from innovations which are
particularly obvious in the choral lyric, are certain archaizing trends. One of
these is the increase of trochaic passages in the later plays; in these he reverted to
a tragic metre which was felt to be particularly ancient.’
In this discussion of the formal element it has already become increasingly
clear to what extent Euripides’ work is pervaded by contradictory forces. This
applies in the same degree to his merit, and it is on this very point that any
attempt to characterize this poet in general is bound to fail. He is not simply the
philosopher of the stage or even the propagandist of the enlightenment. But to
a large extent his intellect predominates. The thinker and the poet in him did
not always blend so perfectly as in the songs of praise which the chorus in the
Medea (824) sings to the Athens of Pericles. A comparison with Sophocles’ ode
to his native land (Oed. Col. 668) reveals how much more intellectually inspired
Euripides’ verse is. The mythical figures and the forces raised to a divine level,
the Muses and Harmony, the Erotes and Sophia, they also belong to this sphere.
We hear the poet, to whom the exaggerated praise of athletes was a source of
annoyance.’ But when his verse praises the intellectual brightness and the light
tread of people in the pure air of Attica we discern, through the poetical
splendour of the words, the theories of the natural philosophers of his age, and
all these elements have been combined in his verse into perfect unity. This is
' H. SCHONEWOLF, Der jungattische Dithyrambos. Diss. Giessen 1938.
2 KRANZ (v. sup.), 229.
3 W.KRIEG, ‘Der trochaische Tetrameter bei Eur.’. Phil. 91, 1936, 42.
4 On this theme H. R. BUTTS, The Glorification of Athens in Greek Drama. Iowa Stud. in
Class. Phil. 11, 1947.
5 It was already observed in antiquity that in this respect he followed Xenophanes (Athen.
10. 423 f.). Other passages in H. D. KEMPER, Rat und Tat. Diss. Bonn 1960, 107, 88.
403
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

not always so and sometimes Euripides presented his thoughts in a way which
burst open the confines of the plays; nevertheless he is the greatest and most
effective playwright who ever wrote for the stage. The trend of various recent
studies,! vindicating the poet in him in contrast to the thinker, is sound and
correct. Nor is Euripides the misogynist whom comedy called before the court
of women at the festival of the Thesmophoriae. The demoniacal contrivers of
evil are matched by noble figures of women with whom he is fond of connecting
the theme of self-immolation. The least deserved of all was the designation of
the poet as one who denied the divine. In the Heracles and the Electra we saw
that at times his doubt of the tradition increased to violent criticism and rejec-
tion, but although he could not detect a divine nature in the figures of the
official myths, he never stopped seeking for its manifestations in this world.
Nor does the Bacchae imply that this search had come to an end, although we
hear in this play some unexpected words about the wisdom of acquiescence.
What is said of Tiresias (200) and the messenger (1150) can be interpreted as
being part of their roles, but there is a much more personal tenor in the song of
the chorus (386): a life of peace and of wise reflection makes homes secure;
short is our road, idle the chasing after great things, 70 cogov 8’ od cogia. Does
the poet deny his own life here, he who had praised Athens in his Medea, because
there the gods of love unite with wisdom? It would show an elementary mis-
understanding to interpret the passage like that, but it remains a difficult task to
ascertain its personal content. We would like to think that these lines make us
the spectators of a gripping spectacle. At the end of a life full of intellectual
struggling and the torment of eternally unsolved questions, the poet holds up
before him the peaceful image of those secure in faith. But its peace can never
be called his, for it was his task to bear the distress of incessant seeking and to
give voice to the unrest of his age, which had not yet forgotten the old, but yet
was striving along uncertain paths for the new.

According to the manuscript biography and Suidas, Euripides’ total work

comprised ninety-two plays. This number probably goes back to the research
of the Alexandrians, who were already faced with a great deal of uncertainty.
The biography states explicitly that of these seventy-eight survived, which means
that they were present in the library at Alexandria. The number seventy-five
also emerges (Varro in Gell. 17. 4, 3; variant in Suidas); the discrepancy is
probably due to the deletion of the three plays attributed to Critias (v. supra)
The spurious Rhesus has been included in the number of surviving plays.
Euripides, who fought so hard for recognition during his life, became the
most popular tragedian as early as the 4th century and remained so until the end
of antiquity. When the restaging of one old tragedy (aAaud) became the custom
in the dramatic agon, as we could ascertain for the year 386, it was especially
Euripides’ works which benefited. This had its dangers for the text. Although
' RIVIER, GRUBE, MARTINAZZOLI et alii. 2 Proof in SCHMID 3. 824, 3.
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the extent of actors’ interpolations is difficult to mark off,! there can be no doubt
that a good deal was altered in this manner. It is due to the later popularity of
the poet that after Homer the greatest number of papyrus texts which we have
are his. The older papyri, especially the Strasbourg papyrus of tragic lyrics
(BR. SNELL, Herm. E 5, 1937, 69) reveal a similarity with those of Homer: the
work of the Alexandrians was decisive in putting an end to the degeneration of
the text. But this means, of course, that the form which they gave to them is the
oldest accessible to us. Aristophanes of Byzantium produced the decisive edition
with commentaries in independent books.
The principle of selection which is generally connected with the schools in the
age of the Antonines also plays a part in the transmission of Euripides. It can be
stated with certainty that this selection comprised the plays on which we have
scholia: Alc., Andr., Hec., Hipp., Med., Or., (Rhes.), Tro., Phoen. It is likely, if
not certain, that at one time the Bacchae was also included in this selection.
Through a happy dispensation we are not dependent on this alone for Euripides,
for in addition part of an alphabetically arranged edition has been preserved.
This branch of the transmission is based upon a papyrus edition which contained
one play each in one roll, combining five of them in containers, jars or boxes
(BR. SNELL, Herm. 70, 1935, 119). The Hec., also belonging to the selection,
further Hel., El., Heracl., Heracld. formed the contents of one, Cycl., Ion,
Suppl. and the Iphigenia tragedies that of the other container.
J. A. SPRANGER, ‘A Preliminary Skeleton List of the Manuscripts of Eur.’.
Class. Quart. 33, 1939, 98, gives a survey of the manuscripts. The most important
information is also found in the leading editions; fundamental for any further
work on the text is also A. TURYN, The Byzantine Manuscript Tradition of the
Tragedies of Eur. Univ. of Illinois Press. Urbana 1957, with an exact description
of the main evidence and a wealth of important information, especially regarding
Triclinius’ activity. V. also p. Gc. MASON, ‘A note on Euripidean Manuscripts’.
Mnem. 1958, 123.
The most ancient manuscript is the Jerusalem palimpsest (Patriarch’s Libr.
36) of the roth century with more than 1600 lines from Hec., Or., Phoen.,
Andr., Med., Hipp. It has scholia and variants and does not form part of the
other two known groups of manuscripts. Of the latter one contains only the
plays of the selection with scholia. In point of value the Marcianus 471 (12th c.)
with Hec., Or., Phoen., Andr., Hipp. (up to line 1234) is the best. The Parisinus
2712 (13th c.) has the same plays increased with the Med., the Vaticanus 909
(13th c.) all the nine comm. plays, the Parisinus 2713 (12th/r3th c.) the same
without Tro. and (Rhes.). The manuscripts of the other group also contain
the plays of the alphabetical collective edition which was mentioned earlier.
Here the most important manuscript is the Laurentianus 32, 2 (L, 13th/14th c.)
with all the plays except the Tro. A further codex, written by one hand in the
late 14th c., is a combination of the two parts Palatinus 287 and Laurentianus
cony. sopr. 172 (P, 14th c.). It is of some positive value for the plays with the
scholia, but for the plays without scholia there is some doubt as to its usefulness.
' p, L. PAGE, Actors’ Interpolations. Oxf. 1934.
02 405
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Many scholars, among them Pp. MAAS (Gnom. 1926, 156) dispute the opinion
that the text of these plays originates eventually from Laur. 32, 2, and is conse-
quently worthless. a. TURYN, to whom we owe the important discovery that
the corrections in manuscript L originate from Demetrius Triclinius, defends
(v. supra) the opinion that in the plays of the alphabetical arrangement P was not
copied from L, but must be considered as a sister manuscript of the Laurentianus.
Recently GUNTHER ZUNTz has re-examined the problem. He was good enough
to permit the results to be stated here. According to him the plays in P without
scholia were directly copied from L after the manuscript had been provisionally
corrected by Triclinius. For the plays of the anthology it appears certain to him
that P had a corrected copy of the common archetype which had also been
corrected by Triclinius.
The upshot of all this is that our tradition has a better foundation for the
plays with scholia than for the rest. An extreme example is afforded by the
papyrus (no. 283 P.) discussed by B. R. DODDS in his edition of the Bacchae,
containing lines 1070-1136, a passage which is missing from Laur. 32, 1. Variants,
plus and minus lines demonstrate on what uncertain ground we are moving
here. For the text reference is also made to J. JACKSON, Marginalia Scaenica. Oxf.
1955, since the suggestions for emendations of Greek authors collected in it refer
chiefly to Euripides. In the style of dramatic criticism between Porson and
Cobet he gives purely intuitively, without reference to the recensio, a wealth of
mostly very worthwhile conjectures.
Research reports by the author in AfdA from 1949 onward, lastly 1961.
H. W. MILLER, A Survey of recent Euripidean Scholarship 1940-1954’. Class.
Weekly 49, 1956, 81. Recent editions: G. MURRAY, 3 vols. Oxf. 1902. 1904. I9IO.
Of the bilingual edition of the Coll. des Un. de Fr. by L. MERIDIER, L. PARMEN-
TIER, H. GREGOIRE and F. CHAPOUTHIER vols. 1-6, Paris 1923-61 have
appeared; Iph. Aul. (Rhes.) are still to come. A. s. way, 4 vols. biling. Loeb
Class. Libr. Lond. 1912 repr. up to 1959. Of the Spanish biling. ed. of A. TOVAR
(partly together with r. p. BINDA) 1, Barcelona 1955 (Alc. Andr.), 2, 1959
(Bacch. Hec.) have appeared in the Coleccién Hispdnica de autores Griegos y
Latinos par las universidades Espafiolas. Useful for the interpretation: H. WEIL,
Sept Tragédies d’Eur. Paris 1868, 3rd ed. 1905 (Hipp. Med. Hec. Iph. Aul. Iph.
Taur. El. Or.). Reference must be made particularly to the comm. Oxf. editions
quoted hereafter with regard to the individual plays. E(ditions) with comm.
and C(ommentaries) of the individual plays: Alc.: E: 1. WEBER, Leipz. 1930.
A. MAGGI, Naples 1935. D. W. F. VAN LENNEP, Leiden 1940. A. M. DALE, Oxf.
1954. AUG. MANCINI, Florence 1955. C: kK. v. FRITZ, ‘Euripides’ Alkestis und
ihre modernen Nachahmer und Kritiker’. Ant. u. Abend]. 5, 1956, 27; now
Antike und moderne Tragédie. Berl. 1962, 256. W. D. SMITH ,‘The Ironic Structure
in Alc.’ Phoenix 14, 1960, 127. 0. VICENZ1I, ‘Alkestis und Admetos’. Gymn. 67,
1960, 517. U. ALBINI, ‘L’Alc. di Eur.’. Maia N.S. 13, 1961, 3. — Med.: E: p. 1.
PAGE, Oxf. 1938. U. BRELLA, Turin 1950. G. AMMENDOLA, Florence 1951. EB.
We lGnO, Turin 1957. J. C. KAMERBEEK, Leiden 1962. C: o. REGENBOGEN,
Randbemerkungen zur Med. des Eur.’. Eranos 48, 1950, 21. K. V. FRITZ, ‘Die
406
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Entwicklung der Iason-Medea-Sage und die Medea des Eur.’. Ant. und Abend.
8, 1959, 33; now Antike und moderne Tragédie. Berl. 1962, 322. WOLF-H. FRIED-
RICH, Medeas Rache. Nachr. Ak. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1960/4, 67. — Hipp.: E:
A. TACCONE, Florence 1942. G. AMMENDOLA, Florence 1946. A. G. WESTER-
BRINK, Leiden 1958. C: H. HERTER, ‘Theseus und Hipp.’. Rhein. Mus. 89, 1940,
273. B. M. W. KNOX, The Hipp. of Eur.’. Yale Class. Stud. 13, 1952, 1. W. FAUTH,
Hippolytos und Phaidra. Abh. Ak. Mainz. Geistes- u. Sozialwiss. Kl. 1958/9 and
1959/8 (enquires into the pre-history of the subject matter). R. P. WINNINGTON-
INGRAM, ‘Hippolytus: A Study of Causation’. Entretiens sur l’antiquité class. 6.
Vandceuvres-Geneva 1960, 171. — Hec.: E: A. TACCONE, Turin 1937. M. TIERNEY,
Dublin 1946. A. GARzYA, Rome 1955. C: D. J. CONACHER, ‘Eur. Hecuba’.
Am. Journ. Phil. 82, 1961, 1. — Andr.: E: J. C. KAMERBEBK, Leiden 1955. U.
SCATENA, Rome 1956. A. GARZYA, Naples 1960. C: V. p. 375 n. 2 f. — Heraclidae:
E: A. MAGGI, Turin 1943. C: G. Zuntz in his above-mentioned book; a.
GARZYA, Studi sugli Eraclidi di Eur.’. Dionisio 19, 1956, 3. F. STOESSL, ‘Die Her.
des Eur.’ Phil. 100, 1956, 207. V. also p. 377, nn. 2-5. — Suppl.: E: T. NICKLIN,
Lond. 1936. G. ITALIE, Groningen 1951. G. AMMENDOLA and v. D’ AGOSTINO,
Turin 1956. C: G. zUNTZ in the above-mentioned book. J. w. FrITTON, ‘The
Suppliant Women and the Herakleidai of Eur.’. Herm. 89, 1961, 430. — Heracles:
E: WILAMOWITz’s monumental ed. is still authoritative, Berl. 1889, 2nd ed.
1895. C: E. KROEKER, Der Her. des Eur. Diss. Leipz. 1938. Also H. DREXLER,
GGN phil.-hist. Kl. 1934/9. — Tro.: E: A. TACCONE, Turin 1938. G. SCHIASSI,
Florence 1953. C: G. PERROTTA, ‘Le Troiane di Eur.’. Studi sul teatro greco-rom.
Dioniso. 15, 1952, 237. A. PERTUSI, ‘Il significato della trilogia troiana di Eur.’.
Ib. 251. D. EBENER, ‘Die Helenaszene der Troerinnen’. Wiss. Zeitschr. Univ.
Halle 1954, 691. — El.: E: J. D. DENNISTON, Oxf. 1939. G. SCHIASSI, Bologna
1956. D. BACCINI, Naples 1959. C: Ww. WUHRMANN, Strukturelle Untersuchungen
zu den beiden El. und zum eur. Or. Diss. Ziirich 1940. F. STOESSL, “Die El. des
Eur.’. Rhein. Mus. 99, 1956, 47. - G. AMMENDOLA, Turin 1943. G. ITALIE,
Groningen 1949. A. Y. CAMPBELL, Liverpool 1950. C: A. N. PIPPIN, ‘Eur.
Helen: a Comedy of Ideas’. Class. Phil. 55, 1960, 151. G. ZUNTZ, ‘On Eur.
Helena: Theology and Irony’. Entretiens sur l'antiquité class. 6. Vandceuvres-
Geneva 1960, 201. Ib., “The Papyrus of Eur. Hel. P. Ox. 2336’. Mnem. S 4, 14,
1961, 122 with following corrigendum. x. ALT, “Zur Anagnorisis in der Hel.’.
Herm. 90, 1962, 6. — Iph. Taur.: E: M. PLATNAUER, Oxf. 1938; repr. 1956. G.
AMMENDOLA, Turin 1948. H. STROHM, Munich 1949. J. D. MEERWALDT,
Leiden 1960. — Ion: E: u. v. WILAMOWITZ, Berl. 1926. A. s.. OWEN, Oxf. 1939.
G. ITALIE, Leiden 1948. G. AMMENDOLA, Florence 1951. C: M. F. WASSERMANN,
‘Divine Violence and Providence in Eur. Ion’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 1940, 587.
D. J. CONACHER, ‘The Paradoxon of Eur. Ion’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 1959, 20.
— Phoen.: E: c. H. BALMORI, Tucum4n Argentina 1946. A. M. SCARCELLA, Rome
1957. C: W. RIEMENSCHNEIDER, Held und Staat in Eur. Phin. Diss. Berl. 1940.
E. VALGIGLIO, L’esodo delle ‘Fenicie’ di Eur. Univ. di Torino. Pubbl. della Fac. di
Lett. e Filos. 13/2. Turin 1961. — Or.: E: A. M. SCARCELLA, Rome 1958. C: w.
KRIEG, De Eur. Or. Diss. Halle 1934. w. BIEHL, Textprobleme in Eur. Or. Diss.
407
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Jena 1955. A. M. SCARCELLA, ‘Letture euripidee: L’ “Oreste’’ e il problema

dell’uniti’. Dioniso, 19, 1956, 3. D. D. FLAVER, ‘The Musical Setting of Eur. Or
Am. Journ. Phil. 81, 1960, 1. V. DI BENEDETTO, ‘Note critico-testuale all Or. di
Eur.’. Studi class. e orient. 10, Pisa 1961, 122. K. V. FRITZ, ‘Die Orestessage bei den
drei grossen griech. Tragikern’. Antike und moderne Tragédie. Berl. 1962. — Iph.
Aul. E: G. AMMENDOLA, 3rd ed. Turin 1959. C: BR. SNELL, Aischylos. Phil.
Suppl. 20/1, 1928, 148. D. L. PAGE, Actors’ Interpolations. Oxf. 1934, 130. V. FREY,
‘Betrachtungen zu Eur. Aul. Iph.’. Mus. Helv. 4, 1947, 39. H. VRETSKA, “Aga-
memnon in Eur. Iph.i. A.’. Wien. Stud. 74, 1961, 18. — Bacch.: E: G.:AMMENDOLA,
Turin 1941. E. R. DODDS, 2nd ed. Oxf. 1960. P. scAzzoso, Milan 1957. C:
R. P. WINNINGTON-INGRAM, Eur. and Dionysus. Cambr. 1948. H. DILLER, ‘Die
Bakchen und ihre Stellung im Spatwerk des Eur.’. Ak. Mainz. Geistes- u. sozial-
wiss. KI. 1955, no. §. A.-J. FESTUGIERE, ‘La Signification religieuse de la parodos
des Bacch.’. Eranos 54, 1956, 72. Ib., ‘Eur. dans les Bacch.’. Eranos 55, 1957, 127.
— Cycl.: E: J. DUCHEMIN, Paris 1945. G. AMMENDOLA, Florence 1952.
Fragments: NAUCK, Trag. Graec. Fragm., 2nd ed. Leipz. 1889. H. V. ARNIM,
Suppl. Euripideum. Bonn 1913. BR. SNELL, Wien. Stud. 69, 1956, 86. Pap.: P. nr.
276-329. H. HOMMEL, ‘Eur. in Ostia’. Rivista It. di Epigrafia 19, 1959, 109 thinks
that some lines on a bust of Hippocrates which stood in a graveyard in Ostia
are a fragment of a choral lyric by Eur. — Scholia: £. scHWARTZ, 2 vols. Berl.
1887/91. — Verbal index: J. T. ALLEN and G. ITALIE, A Concordance to Eur.
Berkeley 1953. — In the American translation (cf. on Aeschylus) we single out
particularly the two contributors R. LATTIMORE and D. GRENE. In Great Britain
G. MURRAY’s translations of numerous plays are excellent. In French v. supra the
ed. of the Coll. des Univ. de Fr. Italian: M. FAGGELLA, Eur. nuova trad. in versi.
1-4, Milan 1935-37. — Language: w. BREITENBACH, Unters. zur Sprache der eur.
Lyrik. Tiib. Beitr. 20, Stuttg. 1934. J. SMEREKA, Studia Euripidea I and II/r,
Leopoli 1936/37. L. BERGSON, D. M. CLAY, FR. JOHANSEN V. appendix to Aeschy-
lus under “language’’. - Metre: v. p. 380 n. 2 and 403 n. 3. Monographs and
papers: D. F. W. VAN LENNEP, Eur. rountis codds. Amsterd. 1935. G. M. A.
GRUBE, The Drama of Eur. Lond. 1941; 2nd ed. (with few alter.) New York
1961. A. RIVIER, Essai sur le tragique d’Eur. Lausanne 1944. F. MARTINAZZOLI,
Euripide. Rome 1946. G. MURRAY, Eur. and his Age. 1913. 2nd ed. Oxf. 1946.
W. ZURCHER, Die Darstellung des Menschen im Drama des Eur. Basel 1947. w. H.
FRIEDRICH, Eur. und Diphilos. Munich 1953. L. H. G. GREENWOOD, Aspects of
Eur. Trag. Cambr. 1953. G. NORWOOD, Essays on Eur. Drama. London 1954.
Ww. LuDWic. Sapheneia. Ein Beitrag zur Formkunst im Spatwerk des Eur. Diss.
Tiib. 1954. F. CHAPOUTHIER, ‘Eur. et l’accueil du divin’. Fondation Hardt (cf.
p. 65, n. 3), 205. G. zUNTZ, The Political Plays of Eur. Manchester 1955. C.
PRATO, Eur. nella critica di Aristofane. Galatina 1955. H. STROHM, Euripides. Zet.
15. Munich 1957. K. REINHARDT, ‘Die Sinneskrise bei Eur.’. Die neue Rundschay
68, 1957, 615; now Tradition und Geist. Gdttingen 1960, 227 touches upon the
centre of the problems of Euripides’ work. The following works are preserved
in the Entretiens sur lantiquité class. 6. Vandceuvres-Geneva 1960, apart from
those mentioned with the separate plays: J. C. KAMERBEEK, ‘Mythe et réalité
408
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
dans |’ceuvre d’Eur.’. A. RIviER, L’Elément démonique chez Eur. jusqu’en 428’.
H. DILLER, ‘Umwelt und Masse als dramatische Faktoren bei Eur.’. A. LESKY,
‘Psychologie bei Eur.’. (Ib. ‘Zur Problematik des Psychologischen in der
TragGdie des Eur.’. Gymn. 67, 1960, 10.) V. MARTIN, ‘Eur. et Ménandre face 4
leur public.’ Many valuable observations in the book by J. DE ROMILLY, L’ Evolu-
tion du pathétique d’Eschyle & Euripide. Paris 1961. Cf. POHLENZ, HARSH, LESKY
and KITTO.

3 OTHER TRAGIC WRITERS

Attic tragedy for us is linked indissolubly to the three great poets in whom
Greek art, fed from the springs of mythology and rooted deep in the life of the
community through its religious associations, reached its greatest height since
the epic. But we must not forget that what survives is only fragments of an
incredibly rich literary output. How good this output was we do not know; but
its almost total loss can probably be taken as reflecting a basically sound judg-
ment of later ages. Its extent, however, can be fairly well known to us from
various sources. We have comedy, which loved to direct its fire against minor
poets, and which gives us in the opening of the Frogs a striking impression of
the sense of decline which was felt after the death of Sophocles and Euripides.
Here and there in the Poetics Aristotle mentions names of poets who for us are
overshadowed by the great writers. But our best source is the remains of the
inscriptions which were put up by a drama-loving Athenian of the Hellenistic
period on the inner walls of a small building. The lists of plays performed at
the Great Dionysia and the Lenaea (IG II 2nd ed. 2318 and 2319-23) and the
lists of victors in tragedy and comedy at these festivals (ibid. 2325), even in their
fragmentary state, constitute a valuable chapter of Greek literary history, which
the skill and industry of Adolf Wilhelm! have enabled us to read.
Of all the many poets whose names and titles and fragments appear in
Nauck’s collection, there are only a few of whom we receive a distinct impres-
sion. The classical period produced Ion of Chios, who was born between 490 and
480. He came to Athens in his early youth, and in his Epidemiae he embodied
reminiscences of a banquet distinguished by the presence of Cimon (Plut. Cim.
g). According to Suidas he presented his first tragedy in the 82nd Olympiad
(452-449). We must of course suppose him to have been in Athens then, and
presumably he often came later to see his plays produced. In the same passage
we read that after a tragic victory he gave a jar of Chian wine to every Athenian
citizen - an act of liberality only possible to a rich man. Certainly he was
closely associated with Athens and her intellectual leaders and he often lived
there for varying lengths of time. His acquaintance with Aeschylus is attested
by an anecdote that Plutarch tells about the Isthmia (Mor. 79 D.), and we have
previously noticed the story of Sophocles’ stay with him in Chios.
This open-hearted Ionian took an active part in the intellectual life of his
t Urkunden dram. Auffiihrungen in Athen. Vienna 1906. A. PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, The
Dramatic Festivals of Athens. Oxf. 1953, 103 (p. 105 on the relation between the inscr. and
the researches of Aristotle).
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times, as the multiplicity of his writings attests. We are justified in dealing with
him here, since in antiquity his tragedies were reckoned the most important
part of his literary work.! Suidas gives three different numbers for the total of
his plays: 12, 30 and 40. We can take this without difficulty as referring to ten
trilogies, to which the satyr-plays were sometimes added in the reckoning. The
number 12 was presumably the number of plays preserved at Alexandria, where
Ton had the honour of being admitted into the canon of tragic poets. This is
presumably why we have a relatively large number of fragments from him,
which do not, however, enable us to form a soundly based judgment of his
poetry. We have some assistance from the intelligent author of the Ilepi tipous,
who makes the same kind of comparison between Ion and Sophocles as between
Bacchylides and Pindar —a contrast between the smooth mastery of form and the
fire of genius. The same critic, whose name we are sorry not to know, reckons
the Oedipus of Sophocles as being worth more than Ion’s whole dramatic
output.
Among the known titles, all based on various mythical themes, the Great
Drama (Méya dpaua) singles itself out. It is an uncertain hypothesis of Blumen-
thal’s? that the subject was the stealing of fire by Prometheus. We are best
informed about the satyr-play Omphale, which depicted Heracles in bondage to
the Lydian queen. Feasting played a large part, to judge from the fragments,
and it is quite likely that the passage quoted in Pollux (2. 95) referring to Her-
cules’ three rows of teeth comes from this context. A fragment on papyrus
(60 Blum.) seems at first to show a change of scene, but Blumenthal has inter-
preted it so as to make such a supposition unnecessary. Aristarchus thought the
piece worthy of his attention as a commentator.
According to ancient reports, Ion tried his hand at the most various fields of
poetry. We have a large fragment of an elegy — a poem for the dinner-table,
celebrating Bacchus and his gifts; dithyrambs and solo lyrics are well attested,
and he also wrote a Hymn to Opportunity. This is remarkable, since some of the
remains, like the elegiac fragment above, give the impression that Ion’s poetry,
with its mastery of form, came mostly from the intellect. Ka:pds, the opportune,
profitable, decisive moment, as the subject of a poem, points this way, since it
was not a creation of living religious feeling, even if it did later have a cult in
Olympia (Paus. 5. 14, 9), but of the realm ofideal concepts. It began to play a
part in Greek thought in Ion’s time, and in the age of Alexander it was pleasingly
represented in plastic art as a running man with a bald head, having only one
lock of hair_on the front to grip him by, and balancing a pair of scales on a
razor.
It has been thought that Ion’s talents extended also to epic, and that his
Founding of Chios was an example. But a verbal quotation (19 Blum.) is in
prose. We are surprised to find that ancient sources} credited Ion with comedies
also. None of the fragments can be so identified, and since at the end of Plato’s
Symposium it is stated purely as a theoretical possibility that the same man might
i Ch. SCHMID, 2. $155 2: 2 In his edition, fr. 59.
3 Schol. on Aristoph. Peace 835; SUIDAS, s.v. dBupapBodiddcKadAor.
410
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
write comedy and tragedy, it seems unlikely that this should have been done by
a well-known author some decades before.
Among Ion’s writings in prose we have already mentioned the Founding of
Chios. The quotations are concerned with mythology. As with Hellanicus, who
also wrote a Founding of Chios, so here we find the continuation in prose of an
originally epic form, as exemplified in Xenophanes’ Founding of Colophon. This
form later became popular. The most original of Ion’s works seems to have
been his Epidemiae, in which he gave a special embodiment of that Greek love
of anecdote which was later to show itself so powerfully in Plutarch. The title
refers to journeys: from what we previously noticed concerning Cimon,
Aeschylus and Sophocles, it was as much concerned with visits of great men to
Chios as with Ion’s own travels. It is the personal element — the witty saying or
the notable deed — that is always prominent. From the philosophical side we
find Ion as the author of the Triagmos (also quoted as Triagmoi). But already we
have said more about it than the evidence justifies. It was certainly concerned
with the triad as a universal structural principle, as we see from the opening
sentence: “All things are three, neither more nor less than these three. Each
man’s usefulness is a trinity: reason, strength and luck.’ An interesting light is
cast on a field otherwise dark to us by a fragment (fr. 24 Blum. 2 D.) stating that
Pythagoras used to attribute some of his doctrines to Orpheus. The influence on
Ion of Pythagorean doctrines of the soul is attested by the elegant distichs which
he wrote to Pherecydes of Syros (fr. 30 Blum.).
Apart from the three great names and Ion, the Alexandrians admitted only
Achaeus of Eretria into the tragic canon. But we do not know what claim he had
to this honour. His satyr-plays were well thought of, and the inscriptions credit
him with a victory. Apart from a few titles of plays, this is all we know of him.
The plays ascribed to Critias were mentioned earlier in connection with his
other literary work. We are indebted to comedy — though not to comedy
alone — for giving us an impression, at least in its essential outline, of a tragic
poet who flourished in Euripides’ later years - the Athenian Agathon. In Plato’s
Protagoras (315 e) he appears as a young man of great talent and singular beauty
of person. Since the dialogue is set around 430, we may assume that Agathon
was born in the early “forties. This agrees with the statement of Aelian (Var.
Hist. 13. 4) that he was about forty years old when he accompanied Euripides to
the Macedonian court.
We find the most diverse judgments of the man and his art in Aristophanes,
Plato and Aristotle. The first-named chose Agathon’s poetry as his particular
target in the Thesmophoriazusae. His representation of the poet as an idle and
effeminate aesthete presumably contains a good deal of comic licence, but
certainly there must have been a kernel of truth to prompt the attack. The
parodies of one of his monodies and of an astrophic choral ode are particularly
valuable. We can see in the Frogs that, when Aristophanes is deriding Euripidean
choral lyrics, despite all his exaggeration he sticks to the essential points. Thus
the parodies in Aristophanes are a valuable indication that Agathon allowed him-
self to be greatly influenced by the later Attic dithyramb, whose contribution
411
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

to the ‘new song’ of Euripides we had to discuss earlier. The overload of

verbiage, reflected also in the music, seems to have attracted particular attention
in Agathon. The symposium which Plato describes was supposed to celebrate
the first tragic victory gained by Agathon at the Lenaea of 416, and the victor
himself appears among those who sing the praises of Eros at the dinner-table.
The encomium that he delivers, coming between the great but very differently
conceived speeches of Aristophanes and Socrates, is so heavily laden with Gor-
gianic figures and assonances that Plato must have intended a parody of Aga-
thon’s manner. We clearly have here a convergence of different lines of develop-
ment. Gorgias carried his artistic prose to a point where it almost crossed the
borders of poetry, and the ancient critics! rightly remarked that he showed a
particular affinity to the dithyramb. The development of the dithyramb showed
the same tendency towards captivating the hearer by mere sound as we find in
Gorgias’ rhetorical teachings, and in Agathon we see the effect which had been
produced on tragedy by both these tendencies. Taken together with other
factors, it spelled the end of the unity that characterized classical art.
We can easily understand how a development of this kind led to the inde-
pendence of the lyrical sections. This is in fact attested by Aristotle in a passage
of the Poetics (18. 1456430) where he says that Agathon began the practice of
treating the choral odes as entr’actes.
Agathon’s innovations in choral lyric were the most noticeable feature of his
plays, and thus attracted most attention from comedy. But we see him, of
course, in a distorting mirror, and we could easily forget that he was a dramatist
of some note. Aristotle alludes to him frequently in the Poetics. Just before the
passage last cited he tells us that Agathon went astray in only one point, but this
caused him many failures. He made his plots too involved — a tendency which
we can see in post-classical tragedy in general and which is exemplified in the
Phoenissae of Euripides. The reservations with which Aristotle makes this
criticism constitute high praise. Aristophanes himself in the Frogs of 405, when
Agathon, like Euripides, had gone to the court of Archelaus in Pella — he died
there not long after — speaks in friendly terms of the man he had so mightily
ridiculed. ‘A fine poet, much missed by his friends’ — that is how Dionysus
describes him in a passage (83 f.), from which we can very probably infer that
Agathon had then given up writing plays.
A remarkable play of Agathon’s is mentioned very favourably by Aristotle
in another passage of the Poetics (9. 1451 b 21). The events and the names were
freely invented by the playwright, who thus emancipated himself from mytho-
logy far more than Euripides ever did. The manuscripts give the title as either
Antheus or Anthos (= flower). At all events, what Aristotle says excludes a
subject within known mythology. We may perhaps wonder whether Alexander
Actolus gives us a reflection of this drama in his elegiac poem Apollo.? In that
™ Dion. Hal. Lysias 10. 21 U.-R.
2 Thus c. CORBATO, ‘L’ Anteo di Agatone’. Dioniso 11, 1948, 163. The Apollo in
Powell
Collectanea Alexandrina 122. Lévéque is mistaken in supposing that Anthos was the
. , ‘ . - . . 2 ;

title of a
sentimental bourgeois comedy.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

case the play would have been called Antheus, and its subject matter would
have been the theme of Potiphar’s wife in a rather individual treatment.

Fragments of the dramatists here mentioned in a. NAUCK, Tragicorum Grae-

corum Fragmenta, 2nd ed. Leipz. 1889. — A. V. BLUMENTHAL, Jon von Chios. Die
Reste seiner Werke. Stuttg. 1939. The philosophical fragments: VS 36. Historical
works: F. JAcoBy, F Gr Hist no. 392 (with the usual exhaustive commentary).
T. B. L. WEBSTER, ‘Sophocles and Ion of Chios’. Herm. 71, 1936, 263. — P.
LEVEQUE, Agathon. Paris 1955. J. WAERN, ‘Zum Tragiker Agathon’. Eranos
$4, 1956, 87.

AOE TR ReP ORL RY,

In the last decade of the fifth century dramatic production was so much to the
fore and absorbed the general interest so exclusively that the other forms of
poetry were quite overshadowed and are only dimly traceable. The only
exception is choral lyric poetry, which nevertheless owed much of its influence
to its close connection with drama, which justifies our mentioning it at this
point. The activity of the poets with whom it brings us into contact extends a
good way into the fourth century, but the formal innovations date from the
second half of the fifth.
We examined above (p. 302) the significance of that development by which
the young democracy gave the dithyramb its appointed place in the Dionysiac
contests, and we spoke of the large-scale production required to meet the
demands of the yearly festivals. The dithyramb was rooted in the same soil as
tragedy, grew up beside it, and had an especially close connection with it at the
Great Dionysia. Mutual influence was inevitable, and we have often had to take
it into account. In particular the ‘new song’ of Euripides and the choral lyrics of
Agathon could only be understood in reference to the later Attic dithyramb.
We must now bear in mind that the latter could never have come into existence
if it were not for the continuous competition, in which tragedy, with its more
varied means of expression and greater intensity of effect, inevitably gained at
the expense of the dithyramb. Thus it came about that the latter threw off the
bonds of strophic responsion, abandoned the old lyric style of narrative (which
in itself tended towards effective exposition only of single scenes) in favour of
startling effects, and introduced mimetic elements as far as was possible. We
have very little of the text of such poems, and no music at all. We have to rely
on inferences from allusions in comedy and on the pseudo-Plutarch De Musica,
which essentially follows Aristoxenus, but is in many ways influenced by
Heraclides Ponticus. We are given the impression of a music directed strongly
towards sensuous effect, with lively changes of rhythm and mode, treating the
text like a poor relation instead of being subordinate to it in the manner of the
old choral lyric. Naturally it aroused opposition among those who followed
Pythagoras in considering music as an important instrument of education and
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

closely linked to the formation of character. Plato also felt called to oppose it.!
Undoubtedly the revolution in the choral lyric and its music was intimately
connected with the unrest which the sophists had brought to the spirit of the
age. Their unsettling ideas, many features in the development of tragedy, the
new tone of the dithyramb — all converged to one point: the replacing of
tradition, of which men had grown tired, by something entirely new.
So far we have been speaking of the dithyramb. We must not forget that the
old form of ritual song in honour of Apollo which Terpander raised to an art-
form, namely the nomos, went through the same development and reached a
stage very much like that of the new dithyramb. In consequence it will not be
necessary in future to treat the two forms separately, since the solo song to
Apollo with accompanying lyre and the Dionysiac choral song to the flute
were often written by the same poet.
We are well enough supplied with names, but there are few to which we can
attach a distinct personality. Phrynis of Mytilene is reckoned among those who
helped the new movement on its way. His innovations in the nomos are said to
have consisted chiefly in replacing the traditional hexameters by other rhythms
and thus making greater variety possible. He had a victory in the Panathenaea
about 450, but his greatest success was in being Timotheus’ teacher.
Another citharode was Melanippides of Melos, who ended his life at the
court of Perdiccas If in Macedonia. According to a fragment of the comedy
Chiron (Pherecrates fr. 145 K.) he added further strings to the lyre.? But he also
made innovations in the music of the dithyramb, according to Suidas, and the
known titles and fragments point to dithyrambs. The Danaides shows that
titles known from tragedy recur in this field, and a fragment from the Marsyas
(2 D.) has Athene furiously rejecting the double flute because it distorts her
features. This story was vigorously assailed by the dithyrambist Telestes of
Selinus in an enthusiastic defence of the “sweetly-blowing, sacred’ flute (fr.
1. 2 D.). Diagoras of Melos was better known for his militant atheism3 than as
a writer of dithyrambs. We may add to the list Polyidus of Selymbria, whom
Aristotle (Poet. 16.1455 a 6) describes as a sophist and praises for the management
of the recognition-scene in his Iphigenia (apparently a dithyramb), and Licym-
nius of Chios, whose pieces are said by Aristotle (Rhet. 3. 12. 1413 b 13) to be
particularly effective when read. It will be seen that most of those who thus
tried to overthrow tradition in music were not Athenians. One is immediately
reminded of the sophists, most of whom came from abroad. If an Athenian like
1 Particularly in the Laws, e.g. 3. 700 D.
? Details of this change in H. WEIL-T. REINACH, Plutarque de la musique. Paris 1900 (on
II4I A).
3 The action for impicty, brought against Diagoras for blaspheming the Eleusinian
mysteries, is mentioned by Melanthius in his treatise on the El. Mysteries (F Gr Hist Il B
326 F 3). F. JACOBY, ‘Diagoras 6 d@eos’. Abh. Ak. Berl. 1959/3, tries to date the action in the
‘thirties before 433-2, but F. WEHRLI, Gnom. 33, 1961, 123, has argued eftectively against
him. Diagoras’ treatise under the title dorupyiovres Adyou is explained by Jacoby as ‘argu-
ments blockading the gods, or arguments fortifying mankind against the gods’. Wehrli
attributes the work to an atheistic sophist. Since the work is in fact lost, neither conclusion
can wholly convince.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Cinesias, son of the citharode Meles, composed dithyrambs and was also well
known as a physical weakling, he could not escape the shafts of comedy; and
thus the poor wretch cuts a pitiable figure in Aristophanes. The comic writer
Strattis also made Cinesias the subject of a play when he took up politics in
later life: in this piece he is attacked for atheism.
There are two poets of whom we can form something more than a vague
impression: Philoxenus and Timotheus. Philoxenus of Cythera, if only half the
stories of him are true, lived a very adventurous life. The dates of his birth
and death are given by the Marmor Parium as 455/54 and 380/79. He left his
native island asa child, enslaved by the Spartans, but he later attached himself
to Melanippides, whom we mentioned as one of the innovators and from whom
he received his training as an artist. According to Suidas he wrote 24 dithyrambs,
while other sources refer to his nomes. One of his works achieved a resounding
success, partly through its intrinsic merits, partly from the attendant circum-
stances. His dithyramb Cyclops dealt with the adventure of Odysseus (fr. 2. 3
D.), but its most striking theme was the love of the oafish monster for the Nereid
Galatea, whose services Odysseus enlisted to deceive the Cyclops. Philoxenus
had lived for some time at the court of Dionysius I in Syracuse, where he had
had many distressing experiences. According to a widespread story the tyrant
had him consigned to the quarries after he had expressed himself with too much
freedom on his master’s literary exploits. According to another account, rivalry
with Dionysius over a hetaera brought him thither. Philoxenus may or may not
have intended Polyphemus as a caricature of Dionysius:! at all events men saw
or imagined a resemblance, which contributed to the success of the work. It
was parodied by Aristophanes in the Plutus of 388 in a manner which justifies
our assumption of dramatic elements in this poem. The most striking example
of its influence is the eleventh idyll of Theocritus, which makes a charming
theme out of Polyphemus’ love for Galatea.
The traditional Ionian stronghold of Miletus was the native city of Timotheus,
who was born about 450, lived to a ripe old age, and died about 360. He is
traditionally represented as the friend of Euripides, and this well reflects the
literary movement which both represented in differing degrees. It is said that
Euripides encouraged him when he was cast down by early failures. Timotheus
also is said to have visited Macedon, but this is not wholly certain. Reports of
his work are very confused, but it appears that he wrote mostly dithyrambs and
nomes. A choregic inscription from Aexonae on Hymettus (IG II/III, 2nd ed.
3091: early fourth century) refers to a tragic writer Timotheus. It may be the
same, but the name is common enough.
In 1902 a fortunate discovery was made in a grave at Abusir in Lower Egypt,
bringing to light a nome of Timotheus’ entitled The Persians. In our opening
chapter on the transmission we spoke of this papyrus (nr. 1206 P.) as the oldest
Greek book. Here and here only do we receive a clear picture of this new art.
That the poem is a nomos does not matter after what we said earlier about the
1 SCHONEWOLF op. cit. 55 is over-confident; for a more general treatment see
J. MEWALDT, ‘Antike Polyphemgedichte’. Anz. Oest. Ak. phil.-hist. Kl. 1946, 269.
415
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

convergent tendency of the two genres. The old division into parts, made
canonical by Terpander, is retained, all innovations notwithstanding. The
surviving verses — several hundred in number — begin in the omphalos, the
central narrative part. They depict the battle of Salamis, not as a single historical
event, but in a series of separate pictures, which are conventional for all their
startling colours and anticipate the battle-scenes of Hellenistic historians.
Dramatic life is imparted by passages of passionate self-expression, such as the
angry outburst of a drowning Persian against the sea, or the despairing cries of
stranded barbarians for their homeland. In these places Timotheus represents
foreign speech in a way that reminds us of the Phrygian in Euripides’ Orestes.
The papyrus also includes the sphragis, in which the poet speaks in his own
person. He defends himself with moderation and courtesy against the charges
which had been made against him in Sparta, and vindicates his techniques,
particularly his use of an eleven-stringed lyre. The epilogue consists of good
wishes for the city’s victory. Presumably the city intended is Miletus, which he
has previously mentioned, and where we may suppose the nome to have been
written shortly after 400.
It is reasonable to postulate choral performance of certain parts, such as the
lamentations of the barbarians mentioned above. Now Clement of Alexandria
(Strom. 1, 16. p. 51 St.) says that Timotheus was the first to use a chorus in a
citharodic nome. If we bear in mind that there are good grounds? for sup-
posing that the new dithyramb occasionally interspersed choral music with
monodies, we can recognise two things: first, the mutual drawing together of
the two forms; secondly their striving after dramatic effect. A grotesque
example of the latter tendency is given by Aristotle (Poet. 26. 1461 b 31 with
15. 1454 a 30). In the production of the dithyramb Scylla the flute-player seized
the chorus-leader by his clothing to bring home more forcibly the monster’s
attack.
The language of Timotheus, as attested by this fragment, shows a quick and
restless movement in the battle-scene and a majestic tread in the sphragis.
Copiousness of language is especially noticeable in attributive phrases, where
far-fetched adjectives are piled up in the attempt to impress. There is a marked
tendency to puzzle the reader with bold periphrases - a trait which looks
forward to Hellenistic literature.
There is little to say about the other literature of the period. All we hear about
epic writing is that great men like Lysander sought poets to sing their praises.
We saw earlier (p. 304) that he hoped to find such a one in Choerilus; in the end
one Niceratus of Heraclea obeyed his behest and wrote a eulogistic epic on him,
with which he was victorious over Antimachus of Colophon at the Lysandreia
in Samos (Plut. Lys. 8). The latter had begun to write in this period, but he
essentially belongs to the fourth century, and so we shall discuss him later.
Religious ritual long demanded poetry, most of which did not rise above
mediocrity and so has not been preserved. The Hymn to Hygieia of Ariphron of
Sicyon, which is preserved in an inscription, was current well into imperial
' SCHONEWOLE Op. cit. 22.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

times. Licymnius of Chios, whom we noticed before as a choral lyrist, also

wrote a hymn to Hygieia, of which we have a few verses.!
This period, like the rest of antiquity, showed a steady production of epi-
grams, which sometimes rose to real greatness when a community set up a
monument to the fallen who had given their lives for it. The greatest writers
were not too proud for this task. We mentioned that Euripides was commis-
sioned by the state to write an epigram on those who had fallen before Syracuse.
Ion of Samos composed the epigram for a votive gift that Lysander sent to
Delphi after his victories in 405/04. The same man is credited with other poems,
but this is uncertain.”
In these years the symposium still remained the true setting for table-poetry
of every kind. We have already mentioned Critias and Ion of Chios. Evenus
of Paros also, whose versified rhetoric we mentioned above (p. 357), wrote
elegies with the symposium as their material, but we know them only through
small fragments.
Parody achieved something like an independent life during this time. In the
Poetics (2. 1448a12) Aristotle names Hegemon of Thasos, a contemporary of
Alcibiades’, as the first writer of parodies. Now parody in fact began much
earlier, with the Batrachomyomachia, and it was an important element in Old
Comedy. Aristotle’s statement makes sense, however, if we suppose that
Hegemon made an independent literary genre of it and entered for poetic
competitions with work of this sort. Until the citharodes later became the ob-
ject of parody, it was mostly epic that was the target. Thus in Athens the
Panathenaea, which had long been associated with epic recitation, became the
regular occasion for the performance of parodies. It was on such an occasion
that Hegemon achieved a particular success with his Gigantomachia.

Remains of lyric poetry in Anth. Lyr. 2, 2nd ed., fasc. 5, with bibliography. On
the papyrus of Timotheus we still need the edition of wi1LaMow1ITz, Berl. 1903.
— History of the dithyramb: a. w. PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Dithyramb, Tragedy
and Comedy. Oxf. 1927. H. SCHONEWOLF, Der jungattische Dithyrambos. Diss.
Giessen, 1938. H. OELLACHER, Pap. Erzh. Rainer, N.S.1, 1932, 136. Epigram:
see p. 174 and F. HILLER V. GARTRINGEN, Hist. gr. Epigramme. Berl. 1926. —
Parody: Pp. BRANDT, Corpusculum poesis Graecae epicae Iudibundae. Leipz. 1885/88.

§ POLITICAL COMEDY

If we were asked whether the Attic genius was most fully and characteristically
shown in Sophocles or in Aristophanes, we should have to reply ‘In both’.
Either by himself is only half the picture: to see it whole we must view together
the sublime poetry of human suffering and the colourful extravagance of a
comic invention which has never known a rival.
™ Both hymns discussed by Pp. MAAS, Epidaurische Hymnen. Konigsb. Gel. Ges. 9/5. 1933.
2 8, DIEHL, RE 9, 1916, 1868.

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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

In an earlier chapter we discussed various popular usages, the Attic carnival

and several other nuclei of primitive comedy in the attempt to trace at least the
outlines of this rather complex picture. All these primitive elements are taken
up into the supreme creations of Old Comedy; but how much else there is to
make up the fascinating motley of these delightful plays! The manifold richness
oflife in Athens’ proudest days, the heights and depths of her ambitious politics,
her well-stocked markets, the foibles of her eccentrics (not all of them harmless),
the inrush of new ideas and the revolution in art — all this is caught in a magical
mirror in the hand of a genius who never allows us to lose sight, behind these
thousand flickering lights, of the realities of life and the seriousness of his own
convictions.
The Alexandrians were the first to divide the history of comedy into three
stages: the Old Comedy, culminating in Aristophanes, the New, best repre-
sented by Menander, and a Middle Comedy in between. If we try to give
figures and to date the change between 400 and 320, we must remember that
the boundaries are in fact very fluid. We shall find in due course that Middle
Comedy is a conception that is very hard to define.
While we can assume that the three great tragedians had no real rivals, the
situation in Old Comedy is different. Here again there was a canon of three
poets, which Horace has smoothly versified (serm. 1. 4, 1): Eupolis atque
Cratinus Aristophanesque poetae. But in addition we know of a large number
of other poets of Old Comedy who, if we judge by ancient reports and the
extant fragments, claimed a respectable place beside the canonical three. All
told, we know of some forty poets of the Old Comedy, although often it is a
matter of a name and some titles. To give a complete list’ would be alien to the
purpose of this book: what we propose rather is to sketch in the salient features
of the background against which Aristophanes stood.
A word must be said to justify the heading of this chapter. ‘Political’ comedy
is not meant as comedy dealing with current politics, although Old Comedy
does take much of its material from that source: the epithet rather refers to the
intimate association of the genre with the common life of the polis, an associa-
tion which in its closeness is unequalled anywhere else in Greek literature.
Aristophanes himself gives us an interesting light on the history of comedy
in the parabasis of the Knights (517), where he proves how fickle the taste of the
Athenian public is by citing examples of the rise and fall of earlier writers. He
names first of all Magnes, whom we met before (p. 237) as one of the earliest
writers of comedy. His eleven victories at the great Dionysia made him the
most successful poet of Old Comedy, but all we have of him is a few titles.
Among these the Wasps and Frogs are worthy of notice (he probably wrote a
Birds as well) as illustrating the old practice of animal choruses which we found
at the beginning of comedy. They also point out the general background to
Aristophanes’ work.
An older poet even than Magnes is the Chionides whom we mentioned in
the same context, the first victor at the Dionysia in 486. The inscriptions enable
' As in SCHMID’s fourth volume.
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 fHE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

us to trace this competition as far down as 120 B.c. From the very beginning,
probably, the number of comedies presented in one day was five. We know
that at the Great Dionysia four days — the roth to the 13th of Elaphebolion —
were set apart for dramatic presentations, and it is widely believed, although we
do not know for sure,! that the roth was the day for comedy. In the darkest
hours of the Peloponnesian war the number of comedies was reduced to three,
and three days (probably the roth, 11th and 13th) were celebrated by the per-
formance on each of one tragic tetralogy and one comedy. At the Lenaea also
five poets took part, each with one comedy, and here again the great war
caused the number to be brought down to three.
Ancient tradition gives 24 as the number of the chorus in Old Comedy -
twice the number of the old tragic chorus. We shall discuss the number of the
actors when we deal with Cratinus.
Among the oldest comic writers known to us we must place Ecphantides.
Two verses of his (fr. 2 K.) are worth notice, since they express a determined
rejection of Megarian comedy. Thus we find here a feature that recurs in
Aristophanes: an emphatic claim to a higher artistic level than the coarse jokes
of Dorian comedy — although its slapstick element was of course indispensable.
We are given some light on this early stage of Old Comedy by a late notice?
which says that the plays of Chionides and Magnes never ran to more than 300
verses. Since most of these belonged to the chorus, we have to think rather of
detached comic scenes than of a continuous plot.
The same section of the Knights gives a very individual picture of Cratinus,3
one of the canonical three, as we saw. His production, which brought him six
victories at the Dionysia and three at the Lenaea, can be traced from the mid-
fifth century to about 423. We have 28 titles of his plays, and we know enough
about them to see that his themes were as multifarious as those of Aristophanes:
politics rubbed shoulder with fairy-tale, literary criticism with travesties of
mythology. Pericles was his favourite target. In his Nemesis he took the story of
Zeus’ relations with that goddess and the engendering of Helen, and used it to
attack Pericles, showing him dressed as Zeus trying to carry out his disastrous
projects. We can form a clearer idea of the contents of the Dionysalexandros,
since a papyrus from Oxyrhynchus (nr. 163 P.) has the greater part of the
hypothesis. It must have been an extravagant burlesque of the judgment of
Paris and its consequences, with Dionysus playing the part of Paris and trying
to sneak off when things began to warm up. This mixture of parodied mytho-
logy and topical allusion, only possible in Old Comedy, must have been directed
against Pericles as a wanton warmonger and simultaneously against Aspasia.
The account of the contents shows us that we must suppose Cratinus to have
had a great wealth of comic elements, but much looseness in construction. The
hypothesis of the Dionysalexandros enables us to understand the judgment of an

1 A. PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, The Dramatic Festivals of Athens. Oxf. 1953, 64.

2 Corp. Gloss. Lat. 5. 181; now in Gloss. Lat. ed. Acad. Britann., 1, 128.
3B. MARZULLO, ‘Annotazioni critiche a Cratino’. Stud. z. Textgesch. u. Textkritik.
Cologne 1959, 133.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

ancient critic,! that Cratinus had a very happy invention where the main outline
ofa play was concerned, but he lacked the ability to carry his concepts into
proper execution.
‘Onion-headed Pericles with the Odeon on his skull’ (fr. 71 K.) was severely
handled also in the Chirones. The chorus of this piece consisted of wise old
Centaurs who lamented the better times that were gone and deplored the
corruption of Athens under Pericles and Aspasia. We have a fragment from
the end of the play, which contains for once a reference to the poet’s literary
labours: this play, which seems to have been his favourite, cost him two years’
hard work to complete.
The picture of Pericles in Old Comedy shows how rapidly the passage of
time vindicates what has been condemned. When Eupolis produced his Demoi
in 412, he was able to call up Pericles from Hades to bear witness to a happier
past.
The attacks of Cratinus must have been exceedingly obscene. One is surprised
to read? that Aristophanes fell far behind him in this respect. Cratinus has some-
times been hailed as having founded the drama of political satire, but in fact
this kind of attack is found in the earliest Attic comedy. It is possible that
Cratinus converted into topical political satire what had previously been attacks
on neighbours and private citizens.
We should not exaggerate the importance of these political polemics, how-
ever obscene and offensive they may have been: they were all within the limits
of a jester’s licence and were not taken too seriously. There were, nevertheless,
attempts from time to time to restrict the freedom of comedy, although many
of the ancient stories in that connection are pure fable. A proposal of that nature
in 440 must be considered historical, but it had little effect. The same may be
said of the proposal of Syracusius in 415 which forbade attacks on named
persons (6vopaori kwywdetv). All these were attempts which lacked the means
of execution.
Cratinus also took his age to task where religion and art were concerned.
His comedy The Thracian Women was directed against foreign cults like that of
Bendis, while his Panoptae attacked the know-all attitude of the sophists. The
Archilochoi featured a contest between great poets of old, and it is significant
that he brings in Archilochus in this connection, whose biting iambics were close
in spirit to Old Comedy. We mention the Satyroi purely to show that these
boon companions could be received as guests into comedy as well, and the
Odysseus ?Odvoo7js) as being a parodied version of the adventure with the
Cyclops, but apparently without any satirical purpose. The Ploutoi must have
had a strong flavour of fairy-tale, to judge from the fragments on a papyrus from
Oxyrhynchus.’ The spirits of wealth rise up in this play to make a survey of
deserved and undeserved prosperity in Athens.
Cratinus gained his last victory in the Great Dionysia in 423 with a comedy
which scored a special success. The year before, Aristophanes in the parabasis
™ Platonius in Kaibel, Com. Gr. Fr. 1. 6. 2 Platonius loc. laud.
+ Nr. 164 P.; D. L. PAGE, Greek Literary Papyri, 1950, 196.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

of the Knights had spoken flatteringly of Cratinus’ great comic power in his
earlier years, but had painted a sorry picture of him in old age, a drunkard who
had outlived his art. The object of this attack struck back: laughing at himself
as only a genius can, he brought himself and his weaknesses onto the stage. He
showed his wife, Comoedia, complaining bitterly of his relations with the idle
slut Methe (drunkenness) and of his running after Oeniscus (‘little wine’:
depicted as a pretty boy). The poet, however, defends the gifts of the god of
comedy, being deeply convinced that the man who drinks only water will
never create anything worth while (fr. 199). The Athenians agreed with him,
and this play, the Pytine, was victorious over Aristophanes’ Clouds.
In Tzetzes’ Prolegomena de comoedia (Kaibel, Com. Gr. Fr. p. 18) we find the
positive statement that Cratinus put an end to the previous freedom in the
number of actors and limited it thenceforth to three. We are justified in doubt-
ing this statement, since Aristotle (Poet. 5. 1449 b 4) confesses that he does not
know various details of early comedy, among which he includes the number of
the players. We can believe Tzetzes’ statement that the number of actors was at
first not fixed, but the restriction to three is contradicted by the extant plays of
Aristophanes, in which sometimes as many as five are needed.!
In the parabasis of the Knights Aristophanes also mentions Crates, whom he
describes as entertaining the public with lenten fare and often having to endure
their displeasure. Aristotle, who values plot above all else in drama, esteems
him more highly. According to Poet. 5. 1449 b 7 Crates was among the first to
give up personal invective (taySix7 id€a) and to try to bring speeches and plot
into a unity.” The two opinions can be reconciled. The disappearance of personal
attacks made Crates’ comedy more tame, but there was also more scope for a
consistent plot and structure. We have some information about the Beasts
(Onpia), in which the chorus of beasts, for understandable reasons, advocated
the vegetarianism of Pythagoras.
The peaceful spirit of Crates seems to have been unique. Teleclides, we are
told, often aimed his shafts at politicians of the day. Against the three victories
of Crates he could boast of eight, five of them at the Lenaea. In his Hesiodoi, like
Cratinus in the Archilochoi, he seems to have criticized the old poets. It is remark-
able that a poet could have expected such a subject to have a wide appeal. But
as yet there was no hard division into educated and uneducated: that came only
as an effect and consequence of sophistic teaching.
One very hard-hitting poet was Hermippus, whose forty plays make him a
remarkably prolific author. He pursued into the lawcourts the line that he took
in his comedies. Plutarch (Per. 32) tells us that he brought an unsuccessful
action against Aspasia for impiety and immorality. We mentioned earlier (p.
304) that he waged war in iambics as well as on the stage.
Hermippus was exceeded in acerbity (if that were possible) and certainly in
directness by the comic writer Plato, who was younger than those named and
roughly contemporary with Aristophanes. Here for the first time we find whole
1 PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Dram. Fest. 148.
2 The passage is not correctly interpreted by sCHMID 4. 90, 8.
421
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

comedies named after the politicians that they assailed: Hyperbolus, Pisander,
Cleophon. The Hellas (also known as The Islands) went beyond the purely
personal and dealt with general questions of Greek politics. Of all the thirty
titles given in Suidas (some of them spurious) we need mention only the
Phaon. This play came out in 391, and Plato at this time, like Aristophanes,
allowed political satire to take a back seat. It 1s concerned with the fabled phallic
demon after whom women run mad — the figure which appears so strangely
metamorphosed in the story of Sappho’s death.
Closer to the spirit of Crates than either of these was Pherecrates, in whose
comedy Chiron Musica is brought on as a woman complaining of all the suffer-
ings inflicted on her by the New Music. The Alexandrians had doubts about the
authorship of this play, as of several others among those ascribed to Pherecrates.
One thus doubted was The Miners (MeraAdjs), in which life in the underworld
was depicted with those cuckoo-land qualities that we often find in Old Comedy.
The Kpazraradoé also included a descent to the underworld. The Curmudgeons
(Ayptor) had a chorus of misanthropes like Timon who had turned their backs
on society. The comic writers loved to draw a contrast in various ways between
primitive conditions of life and those of their own time. We should be most
interested of all to know more about plays which, like the Corianno, Petale and
Thalatta, were named after hetaerae. In these Pherecrates made central char-
acters of personages who were to be dominant in Middle and New Comedy.
Although Old Comedy was so varied and so different from the comedy of
stock characters, certain themes did recur. Thus Phrynichus also made play with
the notion ofa retreat from the age and its way of life in The Solitary (Movd-
tpotos). The title Satyroi has also appeared before. His Muses was produced in
the same year as Aristophanes’ Frogs and had a similar theme: for Phrynichus
also the death of Sophocles and Euripides brought up the question of the
relative merits of the great tragedians, and probably this play had, like the
Frogs, a scene of contention among poets — this time under the presidency of
the Muses. We have some pleasing verses (fr. 31) on the happy life and happy
death of Sophocles, but we should not therefore leap to conclusions about the
Muses’ verdict.
Aristophanes’ most serious rival, once his friend, later his enemy, was Eupolis.
Born in 446, he was very nearly of the same age as Aristophanes. His first
comedy was presented in 429, and in the next seventeen years (to 412) he won
four victories at the Dionysia and three at the Lenaea. He died rather young in
412. Various stories, some of them rather romantic, are told about his death. If
he really died fighting for Athens, for whose moral recovery he had so passion-
ately fought in his plays, it was a striking and fitting end. But the tradition is
not sound enough to earn our full belief.
The later reports and the fragments, which in one instance at least give us
some impression of his art, convey the picture of awriter who brought a warm
heart and a keen eye to bear on the life of his community, who directed his fire
wherever he saw danger or degeneracy. In consequence that kind of Old
Comedy which drifts away from reality into a free indulgence of fantasy —
422
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
which has been rather unhappily christened ‘Marchenkomédie’ in Germany! -
is noticeably absent in Eupolis. The only example seems to be the Goats (Afyes),
which had a beast-chorus. There is no evidence for personal attack in this play,
but that does not mean much in view of the scanty material.
We can gain a clear picture of Eupolis as a political fighter. In his earliest play,
the Taxiarchoi, produced in 427, he brought on the veteran warrior Phormio
trying to make a soldier out of the cowardly Dionysus. We may suppose that
it was Pericles whom the poet was attacking under the mask of Dionysus:
Cratinus also attacked him under that guise. A recently discovered papyrus
fragment (nr. 275 P.) has been assigned to the Prospaltioi, although the only
basis of the supposition is that the name of this Athenian deme occurs in it. In
any case the fragment is very hard to interpret, and it is only with great reserva-
tions? that we can suppose the theme to have been resistance by the Prospaltioi
to Pericles’ warlike measures. In comparison with Aristophanes, whose writings
are largely a plea for peace, Eupolis seems to have had very martial sympathies.
His Slackers or Hermaphrodites ?Aotpdrevtot 7) *Avdpoydvar), like the Taxiarchoi,
was a sign of his concern for the armed forces of Athens: here also Phormio was
the symbol of military virtues.
Cleon came under fire in the Golden Age (Xpuaobv yévos), which Eupolis
produced in 424 — the year of Aristophanes’ Knights. There was no fairy-tale
fantasy in this piece: it poured bitter scorn on the politics of an age which let
Cleon rule. After Cleon came Hyperbolus, whom Eupolis attacked in the
Marikas: the word means a boy, or often a catamite. This play brought about the
break-up of the friendship between Eupolis and Aristophanes, who quarrelled
bitterly over a question of plagiarism. In a passage of the Clouds (553), put in
when the play was revised, Aristophanes accuses Eupolis of having shamelessly
rifled the Knights for material for his Marikas, and in the Anagyros (fr. 54 K.) we
are told that Eupolis made himself three ragged garments out of the mantle of
Aristophanes. But there was another side to the question: in the Baptai (fr. 78 K.)
Eupolis claimed that he collaborated with Aristophanes in writing the Knights,
and that he gave his contribution as a free gift. Collaboration between the two,
while they were still friends, is by no means incredible; but to search for verses
written by Eupolis in the Knights — as some critics in antiquity did — is a waste of
time.3
Aristophanic themes recur in the Cities (IIéAecs). Just like the Babylonians, the
play concerned itself with the basic problem of Athenian maritime empire — the
relation between the central power and the subject allies. It is remarkable that
the separate members of the chorus of cities were individually characterized.
Naturally Eupolis also was aware of the innovations that came with the
sophists. So far as we can judge, he seems to have directed his fire less at the
spirit of the movement itself than at the activities of particular groups under its
flag. Thus in 421 he produced the Colaces (Flatterers), set in the house of the
tT, ZIBLINSKI, Die Marchenkomédie in Athen. St. Petersburg 1885 (much overstated).
2 SCHMID 4. 114 is too confident; cf. p. L. PAGE, Greek Lit. Pap. Oxf. 1950, 216.
3 M. POHLENZ (v. inf. on the Knights), 120.
423
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

wealthy Callias, who is very favourably depicted in Plato’s Protagoras and the
Symposium of Xenophon. Eupolis portrayed the swarm of parasites who buzzed
around the rich man’s table: Protagoras got his share of ridicule, and Alcibiades,
the host’s brother-in-law, was represented as a woman-chaser. Socrates was also
portrayed: we should like to know how. If the biting words about chattering
beggars and starvelings (fr. 352 K.) come from the Colaces, they were no doubt
in character with a speaker, and must not be taken as expressing the poet’s own
views. In the next year he brought out the Autolycus, which he later revised.
The principal figure was the Autolycus who won the pancration at the Pana-
thenaea of 422, the beloved of Callias; and the play attacked the sexual licence
of that circle. The Baptai must have been similar in tone: it was mainly taken
up with ridiculing the followers of the Thracian goddess Cotytto with her
ceremonies of baptism. This occupied only the foreground of the play, which
was essentially an attack on the eccentric habits of Alcibiades, which set all
rules at defiance. Thus much we learn from a scholium on Juvenal (2. 91), and
it gave rise to the foolish tale that Alcibiades took his revenge by throwing
Eupolis overboard (in 415!) on the voyage to Sicily, thus repaying the
‘baptism’.
Eupolis’ last play was The Demes (Afjwor) of 412. Of this we have remains on
three papyrus leaves,! which combine with the other fragments and reports to
give us a picture of the play that shows more clearly than anything else how
serious this hearty, dirty, fanciful Old Comedy could become without denying
its own nature. When Eupolis wrote this play, Athens had suffered the Sicilian
disaster, which brought in its train the agonizing question whether Athens was
on a road that led ever downwards to the end of the Athenian empire. So much
had gone bad in the city, in her politics, her law-courts, her life as a community.
But behind all these was the transfigured image of a past in which Athenians
smote the Medes and sent their ships far over the sea to magnify their city’s
might. Then the way was pointed out by great and wise men, sure of their
goal. Could these not be summoned up from the kingdom of the dead in this
time of need? They could: it was within the power of poetry.
The part before the parabasis takes place in the underworld, where the leading
men from the great days of Athens are conversing in tones of gravest concern.
The best and ablest, it is decided, shall return to earth under the leadership of
Myronides to see that everything is set in order. After a debate in order to choose
the members of the mission, Solon, Miltiades, Aristides and Pericles are selected.
The importance assigned to Myronides is quite bafHing. The man referred to
was the victor of Oenophyta (457), who is mentioned also by Aristophanes
(Lys. 801) together with Phormio as examples of brave soldiers. If we assume
that his death had been so recent that, compared with the others, he could pass
as a representative of the present, we must certainly distinguish him from the
Myronides ofwhom we hear at the time of the Persian wars. There is no certain
answer.? It is doubtful whether the part before the parabasis had a chorus. If it
Nr. 273 P.; D. L. PAGE, Greek Lit. Pap. 1950, 202.
* Confusion reigns in SCHMID, 4. 127, 6.
424
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

did, we must suppose that the demes figured in the underworld, as personified
communities of the good old days. The demes of the present time appeared in
the second part of the play, which took place in the Agora. The parabasis was
followed by a series of separate scenes in the old style, in which the emissaries
of the underworld confronted the representatives of the modern age, converting,
rebuking or punishing them. The papyrus gives us parts of the first of these
scenes, in which the just Aristides deals with a sycophant.
We know just enough of Eupolis to make us bitterly regret the loss of his
plays. At least we have enough to see how just the judgment of the old critics
was, as conveyed by Platonius.' They applauded him for the richness of his
invention, the sublimity of his flight, the deadly accuracy of his satire and the
charm of his style.
Aristophanes, from the urban deme of Cydathenaeum, was born in the happy
days of the Periclean peace, in those years when the building of the Parthenon
was begun. We know that he presented his first play in 427 when he was very
young: thus we will not go far wrong if we suppose that he was born about
445. There is little known about his life. In the Acharnians (653) he says jokingly
that the Spartans coveted Aegina because they wanted to rob him; so presum-
ably he had possessions on the island. This may be connected with the expulsion
of the Aeginetans in 431 and their replacement by Attic cleruchs. Every one of
his plays attests his lively concern for the political and literary life of his day and
his close familiarity with the great national poets. We have no ground for
assigning him to any given political party. Political satire thrives in opposition
to the régime of the day, whose weaknesses it always seeks to expose. In the
service of the establishment it degenerates into pure propaganda. The comedies
of Aristophanes were mostly written in a period when the structure of Athenian
democracy was being undermined by the war and by its own internal deficien-
cies. It was on these that Aristophanes discharged the vessels of his satire. We
shall not discuss the question whether he was basically an opponent of the
democracy. What we have said must not be interpreted as if the poet’s expres-
sions on the questions of the day were dictated by a kind of mechanical opposi-
tion. He was only able to throw such a lurid light on all that seemed question-
able or dangerous because amid all the headlong changes around him he
retained a lively sense of the power of tradition and conservatism, which are
as necessary for the life of men and countries as those forces which beckon
forwards.
Aristophanes took part in public life, as we see from an inscription (IG II/III.
2nd ed. 1740) from the early fourth century, which speaks of Aristophanes of
Cydathenaeum as a prytanis.
The last dateable play is the Plutus of 388. He wrote later the Cocalus and
Aeolosicon, which were staged by his son Ararus, himself a writer of comedies
like two other sons of Aristophanes. We may therefore say that the poet died
in the ’eighties; but we cannot establish a more precise date.
The Alexandrians knew 44 plays of Aristophanes, but four were of uncertain
Gin p saz; ten te
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

authenticity: Archippus also was mentioned as the author. These were the
Twice Shipwrecked (Als vavayds); the Islands (Nfjoov), which we may suppose to
have been a play of the type of Eupolis’ Cities; a Niobus, which is sometimes
cited under the strange double title of The Dramas or Niobus (it may have
included parodies of mythology); finally the Poetry (Iloéjots), which may have
represented the sufferings of poetry much as those of music were shown in the
Chiron of Pherecrates. The Alexandrians also knew of a second play entitled
Peace, but they had no text of it. Crates of Mallos, however, knew the play, if
we can trust the third hypothesis to the extant Peace, and fragments of it survive
(294-97 K.). Finally, some very plausible supplements to an inscription dealing
with the Lenaea! give us the name of Aristophanes and the title Odomanto-
presbeis. This play may have been connected with the embassy which the
Athenians sent to the Odomantes in 422 (Thuc. 5. 6).
Our possession of eleven dramas from Aristophanes’ output is due not to a
proper appreciation of his merits, but to the Atticists who prized his comedies
as the purest source of old Attic.
The first of Aristophanes’ plays to be produced was the Banqueters (AavraAjs)
which won the second prize in 427.” A father has had his two sons brought up
very differently: one in the good old school, the other under the modern
rhetoricians. He now compares the results in the form of an agon} between the
two sons in his presence, in which it is seen how the fashionable methods lead
to the collapse of all true education and decent feeling. The view has been put
forward that this play, unlike the Clouds, tilted at practical and forensic educa-
tion rather than the contemporary philosophical and sophistic teachings. The
later pieces show, however, that the boundaries are very hard to draw. At all
events, the debate on education owed its sharpness and actuality to the impact
of the sophists, and thus in his very first play we find Aristophanes called to
grapple with them. The theme remained a living one down to the time of
Terence’s Adelphi.
In the fifth century it was normal for the poet himself to train the chorus and
direct production. It was, however, possible for another to take over the task
of chorodidascalus, in which case he was reckoned as the producer, and his
name was entered in the official records. This was the situation when Aristo-
phanes’ first comedy was produced, and the same thing happened surprisingly
often. Callistratus, who produced the AaitaAjjs for him, did the same next year
with the Babylonians and later with the Acharnians, Birds and Lysistrata; we know
that Philonides was chorodidascalus for the Wasps and Frogs and for the lost
Proagon and Amphiaraus. The production of the Cocalus by Aristophanes’ son
Ararus may well have been posthumous. All sorts of fabulous interpretations
* 1G HII 2nd ed., 2321; cf. PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Dram. Festivals 111.
* First presentation by Aristophanes: c. F. RUSSO, ‘Cronologia del tirocinio Aristofaneo’.
Belfagor. Rassegna di varia umanita 14, 1959, 2. He thinks the Banqueters came out at the
Dionysia of 427; in 426 performances were given at both festivals — the Babylonians at the
Dionysia, at the Lenaea not the Dramata or Centaur, as has commonly been thought, but
some play which we can no longer determine.
3 On this see w. stiss (v. inf.) 250.
426
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

were current in antiquity. Our brief survey shows at once that the appointment
of'a proxy had nothing to do with an age limit (thus schol. Clouds 510). Aristo-
phanes himself in the parabasis of the Knights (512) speaks of the difficulty of
producing a comedy, and gives the capriciousness of his audience as his reason
for keeping in the background. The first of these reasons may well have been
the true one: the producer’s task was beyond his talents.
It was with youthful élan that Aristophanes in 426 launched his first attack
on the policies of Cleon. He was taking no small risk. At the Great Dionysia,
with representatives of all parts of the Athenian empire sitting in the theatre,
the chorus of allied cities was seen and heard in the garb of slaves at a mill,
bitterly complaining of the heavy yoke of their Athenian taskmasters. One year
earlier the rebellious Mytilenians had been brought to heel with great severity,
and we read in Thucydides (3. 36) that an appalling massacre, proposed and
pertinaciously defended by Cleon, would have been carried out but for the last-
minute intervention of wiser and better heads. To the latter Aristophanes looked
for support when he brought out this play: the view formerly current, that he
owed his victory to them, has recently been called in question.! Cleon retorted
with the prosecution, which, according to the poet’s own words in the Achar-
nians (377), was very critical for him; but we know no more about it than this.
The comedy Dramata or The Centaur has been thought, without very good
grounds, to have been an early play. This view has been recently challenged: it
is interesting if true, since in this early period Aristophanes uses mythological
material much less than he did later, when he wrote such plays as Daedalus,
Danaids, Women of Lemnos and the like.
The oldest of the extant plays is the Acharnians, which won against Cratinus
and Eupolis at the Lenaea of 425. Scholars are divided here in a way which is
symptomatic of our whole approach to Aristophanes. The question is put: Is
the Acharnians a free play of fancy,” without any serious taking of sides, or is it
a creation of the poet’s deep convictions, part of his struggle against the war
and the Athenian war-party? To us such a question seems to sunder a unity
which is the secret of the great master of Old Comedy.
When Aristophanes wrote this play, Athens was sorely beset by epidemics
and by the destruction of her crops and fields at the enemy’s hands; the rural
population above all, wretchedly housed between the Long Walls, had every
reason to sigh for peace. Thus it is the peasant Dicaeopolis, his very name
expressive of justice, who features here as the hero of peace. It is sheer comic
fantasy when he procures a private truce of thirty years from Sparta — the truce
is given bodily form as a skin of wine! — and leads a happy life in a little island
of peace among all the hardships of war. But he has a hard task to defend his
treasure against the chorus of brutal charcoal-burners from Acharnae, who will
not give up the war until the ravaging of their homeland is avenged. But he is

1 RUSSO op. cit. 10 thinks that an older competitor was the victor, and that Aristophanes
was not victorious until the two festivals of 425; then in 424 came Eupolis’ first success at
the Dionysia.
2 Thus russo (v. inf. on Acharnians).
427
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

able to win them over and to enjoy the pleasures of the situation he has con-
trived, which stand in sharp contrast to the sufferings of the swaggering war-
hero Lamachus.
Despite all their freedom and fantasy, the comedies of Aristophanes are made
up of formally differing and separate scenes, which in earlier times had had a
life of their own, as we saw in a previous chapter. The fairly clear articulation
of the Acharnians will enable us to illustrate and characterize some of the more
important of these constructional elements.
The piece begins with a prologue-speech in which Dicaeopolis vents his ill-
humour over the hard times. This form of introduction may have been influ-
enced by the type of prologue which Euripides had developed for tragedy, but
underneath it lay the old and essentially popular form of the speech to the
public. In comedy at that time the audience could be directly addressed and the
dramatic illusion temporarily shelved: this contact with the spectators con-
tinued down to the time of New Comedy. The vigorous development of the
aside comes largely from this root. It seldom occurs in Euripides; where it does,
one must reckon on comic influence. A good example of this direct address to
the public comes in the prologue-scene of the Knights (36 ff.), which has another
interesting feature in its opening: the explanatory and introductory speech does
not come until after a scene of dialogue. This feature recurs in others of Aristo-
phanes’ plays, and in Menander’s hands became typical of New Comedy. In
this close contact between comedy and its public we see again how intimately
in this art-form the classical literature of Athens was associated with the whole
population, and how it drew strength and life from this quarter.
In the Acharnians the prologue that gives us our bearings is followed by a
sequence of scenes satirizing proceedings in the ecclesia and leading rapidly to
the point where Dicaeopolis receives the wonderful drink that is his separate
peace. Next comes the entry of the chorus — the parodos — here taking the form
of a ferocious hunt for the bringer of peace. In discussing the origins of comedy,
we saw that the original part played by the chorus was the parabasis (p. 235),
which in this play does not come till later. The parabasis derives its name from
the procession or parade of the chorus, which was once the first appearance that
it made in the action. We now find it embedded in the play, as the result of a
process of growth whose basic features we tried to understand earlier. In the
fully developed form the chorus entered long before the parabasis, in a parodos
like that of tragedy, and naturally we can suppose tragic influence. The same
influence was no doubt at work in the development ofscene-division in comedy.
After its parodos the chorus lies in ambush, and Dicaeopolis comes out of the
house at the head of a little procession, which we may consider as the descendant
of one of those phallic processions which Aristotle mentions as the beginning of
comedy. The chorus jumps out upon Dicaeopolis, and after various prelimi-
naries, of which we shall speak later, we come to the decisive battle of words,
in which the advocate of peace has to plead his case with his head already on the
block. He succeeds in dividing the chorus — the ease with which it splits into
two opposing halves is a traditional feature of the comic chorus. Those who
428
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

still hanker for war call on Lamachus to help them and take the opposite part to
Dicaeopolis. But he does no good, is laughed to scorn, and the chorus finally
comes over completely to Dicaeopolis.
Thus in the part before the parabasis the agon shows itself as the decisive
element. Its importance in the composition of comedy was pointed out by T.
Zielinski,’ but we must allow a considerably greater freedom to the comic
writer than his theory does. The Acharnians is put together with much more
liberty than such an elaborately planned piece as the Frogs with its debate of
two persons presided over by a third. It is dangerous to start imagining lines of
development: we should do better to admit the wide range of what is possible.
Before Dicaeopolis can make his speech in self-defence, he has to force the
chorus to hear him. To this end he seizes a bag of charcoal as a hostage and
threatens to cut it to pieces unless they listen to him. This is a parody of the
Telephus of Euripides, in which the hero extorts a hearing from the Greeks by
threatening to kill the child Orestes. The vein of paratragedy continues. Dicaeo-
polis has to defend himself with his head on the block, and he dresses himself in
pitiable mourning sackcloth for this precarious performance. He borrows these
rags from Euripides: they are the same which he made Telephus wear on the
stage — a novel and shocking piece of realism. The scene may be taken as typi-
fying the free and fanciful manner in which Aristophanes constantly alludes to
tragedy, particularly to the traegdy of Euripides. He has innumerable tragic
verses either cited or parodied, and even single words do not escape his ridicule.
The agon-scene of the Acharnians is followed by the parabasis, which in the
best period shows a regular sevenfold division. The entry of the chorus is marked
by a short section, the commation, which dismisses the actors and announces
what is to come. This section could only have been added after the once separate
procession had been incorporated into the drama. Next come the anapaests,
commonly felt to be the most important section, and often called ‘parabasis’
by themselves. It was here that the poet felt free to express personal views and
concerns: thus in the Acharnians he speaks of his dealings with Cleon. Ana-
paestic metre is normal in this part of the play: it ends with the pnigos (also
called axpdv): the idea of choking was suggested by the breathless haste in
which the short verses were gabbled out.
The three sections thus described make up the first part of the parabasis. This
part has no strophic responsion, but it is followed by a second part with respon-
sions in the form of an epirrhematic syzygy. Each sung section (ode and
antode) has a corresponding spoken part (epirrhema and antepirrhema),
normally in sixteen trochaic tetrameters each. The lyrical parts consist mostly of
invocations of gods, and we often find here passages of great poetical beauty.
The use of the antode for personal attack, as in the Demoi of Eupolis, is an excep-
tion. There is very little of the kind in Aristophanes (but cf. Ach. 692. Peace
781): the epirrhemata provide the normal place for obscene personal invective.
1 Die Gliederung der altattischen Komodie. Leipz. 1885. T. GELZER, Der epirrhematische Agon
bei Aristophanes. Zet. 23. Munich 1960.
2 M. POHLENZ, Nachr. Ak. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1949, 40.
P 429
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Thus we see that this elaborately articulated structure contains essentially two
parts: one intended for the original marching entry of the chorus, written in
lively anapaests, the other consisting of ritual song by the chorus followed by
vigorous spoken passages.
We can clearly see from the extant dramas how the parabasis, the ancient
core of comedy, degenerated in the course of time. Individual sections begin to
be left out, as for example the parts without responsion in the Frogs; in the
Lysistrata the parabasis is to some extent replaced by the lively agon between the
two halves of the chorus; in the last plays (Eccl., Plut.) the parabasis is missing
altogether. In the older plays, however, up to and including the Birds, but
excluding the Clouds, we find the responsional parts of the parabasis still present
either wholly or largely. There seems no justification for speaking ofa second
parabasis, since precisely those elements are lacking which belong to the march
past (7apaBatverv) of the chorus. Only the Acharnians has in this passage an ode
and antode preceded by a rather lengthy commation (1143).
As soon as we enquire how the parabasis was staged, we realize the paucity of
our information on questions of this kind. We can be sure that lively dance-
movements accompanied the anapaests, since the commation occasionally (Ach.
627. Peace 729) contains an injunction to lay aside (azroévew) something: we
may take this something to be the chorus’ stage properties or heavy robes —
certainly not their masks. We may suppose that the anapaests were accom-
panied by the flute, but we cannot be sure of the epirrhemata. It is an attractive
supposition that the ode and antode were performed by hemichori, in which
case the epirrhemata would be spoken by the leaders of these.!
After the parabasis the Acharnians very well illustrates that sequence of scenes
which we reckoned among the basic elements and which is also well preserved
in the Peace and Birds. Dicaeopolis, making ready for the delights of festival,
has proclaimed an open market. The first to come to it is a poor wretch from
Megara, which had suffered severely from the war: he has his two daughters
in a sack and secks to sell them as piglets. Next comes the inevitable sycophant
and is smartly sent about his business. The third is a Boeotian with all aan
of good things, including the prized Copaic eels. The Canephoria is then pro-
claimed, and Dicaeopolis prepares himself to celebrate it fittingly. But he has to
keep off some unbidden guests, who try to cadge some of his peace-drink. In
the last scene before the rudimentary second parabasis there is a scene of sticho-
mythia which most amusingly contrasts Dicaeopolis, revelling in the feast, and
Lamachus, who has just received his orders, arming himself for the battle and
the camp.
The closing section again exemplifies a standard feature, although we must
emphasize once for allthat all the standard features in Old Comedy are merely
the framework which the poet’s genius fills with a unique life and gaiety.
Dicaeopolis returns from a drinking contest victorious and in the highest
spirits, while Lamachus, who has been most unheroically wounded while
jumping over a ditch, is carried onto the stage groaning and howling. The
" PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Dramatic Festivals of Athens. Oxf. 1953, 162. 249.
430
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
contrast is further heightened. The tipsy Dicaeopolis is not alone: he has a girl
on each arm, and he minces no words in describing the joys that await him.
The play ends with an uninhibited komos, in which the erotic element is very
pronounced. There is of course no lack of the erotic in Aristophanes, but it
undoubtedly plays a specially prominent part in the end of the plays. We have
only to consider how frankly the union of Trygacus and Opora is spoken of at
the end of the Peace: in the Birds greater decency is preserved, but again a
marriage forms the end. The view advanced by Murray,! following a theory of
Cornford’s, that the gamos at the end of Old Comedy represents a survival of
a ritual element in the Dionysiac komos, deserves serious consideration, although
in this field one cannot bring convincing proof.
Cleon was not able to frighten Aristophanes by his action over the Baby-
lonians. In the Acharnians (300), with an allusion to Cleon’s work as a tanner,
he promised to cut up Cleon into boot-soles for the knights. Thus he already had
in his mind the plan for the comedy which brought him victory at the Lenaea
in 424 — one of the greatest successes of his life. From the passage quoted we can
infer that at the time of writing Aristophanes was already confident of the
collaboration of the knights - members of a conservative corps d’élite — in the
chorus of the play which bears their name. At a time when scholars did not pay
overmuch attention to the monuments, it was fashionable to think of cavalry
manceuvres executed by proud Athenian knights. Nowadays we prefer to
follow the black-figure vases? which portray men with masks of horses, carrying
others on their backs. This is another example in Aristophanes of the old and
enduring tradition of the animal chorus.
As the play opens, two slaves, whom we recognize as the generals Nicias and
Demosthenes, are deploring their lot in the service of their master Demos of
the Pnyx. Life has been intolerable since a new slave, a Paphlagonian, has been
practising his rascality in the house, getting round Demos by flattery and having
his own way in everything. But they are able to lay hands on the Paphlagonian’s
collection of oracles, and they find the comforting assurance that he will meet
his match in a sausage-seller who is an even baser wretch than he. The sausage-
seller soon arrives and does full honour to the promise. From this point on the
play consists for long stretches, both before and after the parabasis, in a series of
agon-scenes, in which the two worthy contestants strive each to surpass the
other in vulgarity and vilification, in speeches which they deliver before an
ecclesia summoned for this purpose, in producing ludicrous oracles, and
finally in entertaining their master Demos. The Paphlagonian’s prospects grow
steadily dimmer, until finally, on the strength of an oracle, he has to acknow-
ledge in the sausage-seller his fated successor, and he yields to him.
While the two competitors are off the stage, preparing the entertainment for
Demos, there is a sung scene between the latter and the chorus (1111) which is
very important for the understanding of the whole. The old lord Demos shows
himself in a new light, and makes it clear to the knights that he is not so stupid
t Aristophanes. Oxf. 1933, 6.
2 M. BIEBER, History of the Greek and Roman Theater. Princeton 1939, fig. 79.
431
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

after all. He does in fact see through these rascals who are battening on him: he is
deliberately letting them wax fat, but at the right moment he will take back all
that they have stolen. We can see that Aristophanes is giving a charitable inter-
pretation of Demos so as to avoid being reproached with a defamation that
amounted to /dse-majesté But this section, which gives us a rest from the noisy
altercation that has gone before, has another purpose also: it is to prepare us for
the surprising coup de thédtre at the end. After the epirrhematic syzygy (1264-
1315) — that repetition of part of the parabasis which is not uncommon in the
older plays — the sausage-seller and Demos come on again. But what a sausage-
seller, and what a Demos! The glib swindler of the early scenes comes on
garlanded and in festal garments to give the glad tidings that he has boiled
Demos young again. This is an old myth-motif, well known from the story of
Pelias and its dramatization by Euripides. Then Demos himself enters — no
longer the feeble old man, but in the prime of life, dressed in the style of the
great days of Marathon and Salamis, the true embodiment of ‘holy, violet-
crowned Athens’, and wildly acclaimed by the chorus as king of the Hellenes.
Now everything will be different, everything will prosper. The new adviser
takes Demos to task for his previous faults, but consoles him by saying that the
blame really rests on the traitors around him. But from now on Demos will
behave better in every way.
This startling reversal at the end has always puzzled scholars, and some have
declared that it defies all logic and psychology. This is true by our own standards,
but the thing looks different if we accept the ‘logic’ of Old Comedy, which was
at liberty whenever it chose to flit from the thousand problems of reality to the
bright world of dreams. We see the right of it only when we bear in mind that
the poet had to consider the feelings of his own public, who could only accept
a play like this if it gave a cheerful prospect of a better time to come — the
ultimate consolation in times of adversity. If we choose to interpret the end as
bitter irony, we may reach a conclusion that satisfies our own notions, but we
go a long way from the free and fanciful world of Aristophanes.
The serious note struck at the end does not lessen the uninhibited merriment
of the komos. There is no lack of obscenity, and the play ended with a dance of
thirty pretty girls representing the thirty years of the truce. The scholiast says
that prostitutes were enlisted for this purpose.
This was the first play that Aristophanes staged in person. It is said that he
himself took the part of the Paphlagonian. Some doubt is justified here, since
the tradition represented by the scholium on v. 230 seems to have been spun out
of that particular passage. Aristophanes makes a slave say that the mask of the
Paphlagonian is not true to life, since no one dared to make such a mask. We
may take this as a fact, for portrait-masks did occur in comedy at this time (e.g.
Cratinus in the Pytine, Socrates in the Clouds), although we do not know how
true to lifethey were. But when the scholium goes on to tell us that Aristophanes
daubed his face with vermilion or the lees of wine and played the part himself,
we seem to hear the voice of a pedant airing his knowledge of ancient mumming
and its devices.
432
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Aristophanes went off in a different direction when he brought out the
Clouds at the Dionysia of 423. What we have now is a fairly drastic revision of
the play as then performed. It was a failure, which the author took greatly to
heart. Cratinus came first with the Pytine, Amipsias second with the Konnos,
which also concerned itself with Socrates. Aristophanes rewrote it later, but did
not put the new version on the stage.
The play seems to begin as a bourgeois comedy of manners, but the fantasy of
Old Comedy soon shows through. The peasant Strepsiades has defied the advice
of Pittacus and taken himself a wife of higher social rank. His son Phidippides
lives up to these origins and to his distinguished name, devotes himself to horses
and brings the old man to the verge of ruin. After a sleepless night Strepsiades
can see only one way out: the boy must go to the thinking-shop (phrontisterion)
to learn the art of winning cases, just or unjust. But the youngster will not hear
of these people, Socrates or Chaerephon, and so Strepsiades himself in his old
age must try to learn the new art of perverting the truth. But the scenes where
the length of a flea’s hop is being measured, where the origin of a gnat’s hum is
discussed, and where Socrates observes the sun from a hanging basket, all these
only enable Strepsiades to make himself a laughing-stock by his boundless
stupidity. Now it is Phidippides’ turn. For his instruction the dispute is staged
between the dikaios logos and the adikos logos, the just and the unjust cause —
the most brilliant of all the agon-scenes in Aristophanes, in which the repre-
sentative of a new age, which knew how to take its pleasures unhindered by
morality and justice, triumphs over the advocate of ancient piety and morals.
Here is a school that suits Phidippides, and he makes such good progress that
his father is delighted with his skill and is enabled to rid himself of two pressing
creditors (the traditional sequence of encounters and dismissals). But over
dinner inside the house he falls out with his son over the latter’s infatuation with
Euripides, and Phidippides commits the ultimate and inexpiable crime of beat-
ing his own father. Thanks to his schooling he is clever enough to justify his
action as a requital of what he suffered from his father as a child. In a sudden
revulsion of feeling, which gives no difficulty in comedy, Strepsiades regrets
having associated with knaves to learn their knavery, and goes with his slaves
to burn down the thinking-shop.
The play is named after the chorus of Clouds, a very complex poetical
creation. At first these Clouds provide a vehicle for splendid poetry: their first
song is one of the most beautiful in Greek literature; next, as the divinities
worshipped by the dwellers in the phrontisterion, they serve as an example of
‘enlightenment’ and are associated with all sorts of metaphysical theorems. At
the end, however, they underline the moral tone of the action and dress them-
selves in a kind of Aeschylean piety. When Strepsiades reproaches them with
having led him into his perverse behaviour, they give a deeply meaningful
reply: thus do they always when they see a man inclined towards evil, so that
he may fall and learn through suffering to reverence the gods.
The central problem raised by the Clouds is the representation of Socrates.
Scholars have long been content with the formulation that Aristophanes simply
433
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

put all the sins of the sophists on Socrates’ head without regard to his personal
character and pursuits. An opposing school was started by Kierkegaard’s seventh
thesis in his doctoral dissertation: Aristophanes in Socrate depingendo proxime ad
verum accessit. Both these views substitute part of the truth for the whole. Pains-
taking researches of recent years! have revealed in the Socrates of the Clouds
many traits that are not sophistical, but Socratic. This is most obvious in the
ascetic way of life attributed to the hardy old man, but it can be seen also in
details of his methods and doctrine. Socrates the scientist is not so incredible
either: in 423 undoubtedly his scientific days were behind him, but Plato makes
him say in the Phaedo (97 c) that at one time he expected great things from
studies of this sort. But there are other places where the contradiction is irrecon-
cilable: above all the association of Socrates with the sophistic teaching which
would make the worse appear the better cause. This difficulty is somewhat eased
if we remember that Socrates himselfisnot shown teaching this art, but neverthe-
less it is in the phrontisterion that Phidippides acquires his lamentable profici-
ency, and v. 874 f. show that the association was intended by the playwright.
In essentials the facts are not hard to understand. In 423 Aristophanes knew
enough of Socrates to represent many of his characteristics to the life. But at the
same time he hastily brought him in to his general attack on the new ways of
thought, of speech and of education which were destroying the good old ways,
in short, into his attack on the sophists. This was possible because to the Athe-
nians of that day Socrates inevitably appeared — without the distinctions obvious
to us today — simply as a representative of suspect innovation, of a way of
thought which called everything into question. How far Aristophanes shared
the views of the many, how far he used them for his own purposes — these are
questions which we cannot now answer. But the suggestion that his play had a
double meaning, and that through all the ridicule one can perceive a serious
representation of Socrates clearly set apart from the sophists, is one which
ignores the nature of Old Comedy.
In Plato’s Apology (19 c) Socrates attaches great significance to the attacks of
comic writers upon him, and we must remember that what was comic licence
in 423 bore a very different face after the Athenian catastrophe. Yet Plato under-
stood the poet well enough, and in the unforgettable final scene of the Sym-
posium he shows him in earnest conversation with Socrates. Aristophanes’ speech
in the same dialogue makes the characters of the poet and the philosopher appear
so mutually congenial that we would be glad to assign to Socrates that epigram
(14 D.) which says that the soul of Aristophanes is a temple of the Graces.
We know that the play was rewritten, but it is hard to say how extensively.”
™ See under Clouds and v. EHRENBERG 273.
* For a moderate view see H. EMONDS, Zweite Auflage im Altertum. Leipz. 1941, 277.
ERBSE (v. inf.) 396, 1 and H.-J. NEWIGER, Zet. 16, Munich 1957, 143, are sceptical. c. F
Russo,
=e
*CT “Nuvole” non recitate
.
e “nuvole”’? recitate’.
« 2 >
Stud. zur Textgesch.
"
u. Textkritik.
2 ; ;

Cologne/Opladen 1959, 231, thinks that there have been great changes, particularly where
the agon of the logoi is concerned. For an account of the history of the problem see r.
GELZER, Zet, 23, Munich 1960, 144, 1: he also follows the ancient notices and supposes con-
siderable alterations.
434
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Revision is obvious in the parabasis, where Aristophanes complains of the ill

success of the first play. Ancient critics say that the agon and the final scene
were revised: both probably were not inserted until the second version.
At the Lenaea of 422 Philonides presented two plays of Aristophanes’, the
Wasps and the Proagon. The subject of the lost play was the performance of
actors before the tragic contest of the Dionysia,' into which Aristophanes no
doubt brought much effective parody of contemporary tragedy.
In the Wasps we have the same conflict between father and son as before
in the Daitales and the Clouds, but here the situation is reversed, and a son is
plagued by the folly of his father. Here again they are at opposite poles politi-
cally. Their names, Philocleon and Bdelycleon, indicate that the father is as
warm in his support of that controversial statesman as the son is in detesting
him. Philocleon is the embodiment of a passion that was epidemic at the time.
The Greeks of all ages loved litigation — a reflection perhaps of what has been
called their competitive nature. It was a very fine thing for a man to enjoy the
pleasure of feeling important as a juror and to be paid for it as well. Pericles
had introduced payment of jurors: in 425 Cleon raised it from two to three
obols. It was necessary to secure a large number, since the Heliaea consisted of
six thousand lay judges chosen by lot, who had to divide into committees of
several hundreds to deal with individual cases.
The struggles of Bdelycleon against his father’s inordinate love of jury-service
provide the stuff of the drama until the parabasis, which at v. 1009 is strikingly
delayed. The form of the exposition is familiar: a dialogue between two slaves
leads up to a continuous account given by one of them. They are guarding the
father on the son’s orders — Bdelycleon has shut him up in the house — to keep
him away from the law-courts. Philocleon’s amusing attempts to break out
(one of them borrowed from the ruse of Odysseus in the cave of the Cyclops)
provide scenes of rich comedy. The chorus now comes to find Philocleon - a
chorus of jurors, dressed as wasps with long stings. They are gnarled old men,
good old-fashioned Athenians, but possessed by the same passion. An agon
follows in which Bdelycleon has a theoretical discussion of the question with his
father and defends his own point of view. The chorus is convinced, but the
young man then arranges a private court in which the old man decides a law-
suit between two dogs. The dog Labes of Aexonae has been accused of cheese-
stealing by a dog from Cydathenaeum. In the latter we recognize Cleon, who
brought an action for embezzlement in 425 against the general Laches of
Aexonae (we know him from Plato’s dialogue). It is a pretty point that the
verdict of ‘not guilty’, which was given in the historical trial, is here arrived at
only through an oversight on the part of the infatuated Philocleon.
It is nothing new to us to find Aristophanes ending his play along different
lines from those which he has followed in the first part. Here again there is a
change of theme in the parabasis, where Bdelycleon tries to bring his boorish
old father into a better frame of mind and into more refined company. But once
again Aristophanes is sceptical of experiments in education, and this one also
1 pPICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Dram. Festivals 65.
435
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

brings unexpected fruits. The old man behaves abominably at the dinner-table,
starts all sorts of quarrels, and steals a pretty flute-girl from his companions. Thus
Aristophanes brings in that coarse erotic element which is typical of his closing
scenes. The final komos here is particularly disorderly. The old man dances like
one possessed, and challenges the bystanders to compete with him. This brings
in the three dwarfish sons of Carcinus, and they all finally go dancing off the
stage.
The part following the parabasis is effective enough in its slapstick comedy,
but it is not very carefully constructed. Twice the rejuvenated Philocleon gets
up to his mischief off-stage, and twice the slave Xanthias comes on to the stage
to make an appropriate report (1292. 1474). On the first occasion the events
coincide in time with the typical fragment of parabasis, on the second with a
song from the chorus praising the conversion of Philocleon. After the old man’s
behaviour at the table this is rather hard to take, and everything would go more
smoothly if we transposed the two strophes and the piece of parabasis. The latter
would then be at a greater and more normal distance from the main parabasis.
But in a piece composed like this one such conclusions cannot claim any
certainty.
When Aristophanes wrote the Peace for the Dionysia of 421, he could be
confident that the play was topical. After the death of Cleon and Brasidas, the
peace parties on both sides gained ground, and in April 421, very nearly at the
time of the Dionysia, the peace was concluded which was expected to last for
fifty years. Despite the extreme topicality of the play, Aristophanes had to
concede first place in the contest to Eupolis with the Colaces.
Again it is two slaves who begin the play, and one of
them, directly addressing
the audience as so often, expounds the situation. They are having a thin time,
these slaves, in giving the necessary care and provender to a gigantic dung-
beetle kept by their master, the vinegrower Trygaeus. This creature is to serve
its enterprising owner as transport to heaven, where he will ask Zeus what he
has in mind for the war-weary Hellenes. Again the fanciful invention has a
specific target: the ride on the dung-beetle is a parody of the Bellerophon of
Euripides, in which the hero tried to reach heaven on his winged steed. For this
purpose some stage machinery was used which readily lent itself to ridicule. But
in Aristophanes the enterprise has a happier issue than in the tragedy. Trygaeus
reaches his goal and enters into discussions with Hermes. He notes with dis-
approval that the gods have withdrawn into the highest aether to be away from
the endless horrors of war, and that Polemos reigns unchecked. He has shut up
the goddess of peace, Eirene, in a pit, and he is now about to take the cities of
Greece and bray them in a gigantic mortar. Polemos is shown in person making
his arrangements, while Trygaecus listens unnoticed. The scenes of eaves-
dropping that are common in later comedy are foreshadowed here. Luckily
Polemos’ servant Kydoimos (the fear of battle personified) is unable to provide
a pestle - Cleon and Brasidas are dead — and so Polemos has to go back into the
house to make another. Trygacus seizes the opportunity, calls on the Greeks,
who appear ds the chorus, gains the support of the anxious Hermes for his plan,
436
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
and leads the rescue of Eirene, who is pulled up from her pit by ropes. At the
same moment two goddesses appear — Opora, goddess of fruitfulness, and
Theoria, who stands for joy at festivals. After a conversation with Hermes, in
which the causes of the war are recalled in ludicrous travesty, they all return to
earth, not by the dung-beetle on a stage flying-machine (Trygaeus and his three
goddesses would have overloaded it), but by simply climbing down a route
which is pointed out by Hermes with a light-hearted breaking of the dramatic
illusion.
Here we must take the opportunity of saying that the notion of the stage that
we can form purely from the text of the play is very problematical.! We can
suppose that the scene in heaven was played on the roof of the skene; but then
we shall have to suppose that Eirene’s pit was at no great height above the stage,
since the chorus which sets her free must have immediate access to the orchestra,
where it sings and dances the parabasis.2 When the chorus says goodbye to
Trygaeus in the commation (729), he must go off with his womenfolk by
another way, possibly to the part behind the skene.
After the parabasis, in which Aristophanes blows his own trumpet quite
unashamedly, we find a sequence of loosely connected scenes, played out once
more on the earth. Trygaeus generously bestows the naked Theoria on the
members of the council, Eirene receives her due offering, at which a sponging
interpreter of oracles is driven off complete with his fraudulent prophecies. The
so-called second parabasis (in reality the second part of a parabasis proper) gives
a delightful picture of peaceful country life. This is almost the only place where
we find Aristophanes so near in spirit to the world of the peasant, but we should
dismiss such notions as ‘idyll’ and ‘pastoral’ from our minds. At this time the
life of the peasant was not so far removed from that of the town-dweller that it
called for or underwent poetic transfiguration. Aristophanes’ motive is political:
the peasants, who were the worst sufferers in the war, were the obvious repre-
sentatives of the desire for peace.
Further episodic scenes follow, contrasting peaceful industry with the
activities of the warmongers, for whom hard times are coming. The piece ends
with the joyous union of Trygaeus and Opora.
We mentioned earlier (p. 426) a second play entitled Peace. Whether it was a
revised version of this one or a wholly different play we cannot tell. We do
know that one of the characters in the lost play was Georgia (agriculture).
We have been able to follow Aristophanes’ work through a number of years;
but now it is not until 414 that we have another secure date. We know of various
titles, but we cannot attach them to any clear notion of the plays. Apart from the
comedies mentioned above (p. 426 f.), with subjects taken from mythology or at
least connected with it, we may mention the Georgoi and Horai. Obviously the
life and work of the countryside played a part in these plays, so that they must
have been thematically akin to the Acharnians and the Peace.
1H. KENNER, Das Theater und der Realismus in der griech. Kunst. Vienna 1954 (on the
Peace see p. 118).
2 So one infers from v. 224, but it is not quite certain.
P2 437
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

At the Lenaea of 414 Philonides produced for the author his Amphiaraus.
Again it was a story of rejuvenation, taking place in the shrine of that hero in
Thebes. If we are right in supposing that miraculous cures had their share of
attention in the play, there was a thematic parallel to the later Plutus.
At the Dionysia of the same year Aristophanes brought out the most highly
wrought of all his extant plays, the Birds. It features the flight of two human
beings from the miseries of the world into a fairyland, and it combines the
boldest fights of fantasy with the most delicate poetry in a way that gives
perennial delight and constantly invites imitation. The scenes are more numer-
ous and varied and at the same time more closely knit than in any other of his
plays.
When Aristophanes was writing this play, the Sicilian expedition was already
in hand — that venture which aroused such hopes and such forebodings. The most
determined attempts have been made to find allusions in Aristophanes to this
great event, but we must admit that Aristophanes does nothing to reward such
determination. The two friends Pisthetaerus' and Euelpides, whom we find
when the play opens walking through a wood led by crows and jackdaws, give
as the reason for their flight the passion for litigation at Athens — nothing more.
In this piece the free play of fantasy is overwhelmingly more important than any
concrete political purpose.
Of these two friends Pisthetaerus (True Friend) shows himself as a man of
action and sense, while Euelpides (Good Hopes) takes the part of a bomolochos
or buffoon. They ask the hoopoe if it knows of a city where one can live
quietly and enjoy oneself. This is a happy touch, since the hoopoe was once
king Tereus, the son-in-law of Pandion, king of Athens. The outcome of their
exploration is quite different, namely the founding of the bird-city, but we
should not immediately declare that there are two different strands in the plot.
In fact one theme leads naturally to the other. The hoopoe’s suggestions are
none of them satisfactory, and Pisthetaerus consequently comes to think that
the birds themselves ought to found a city in mid-air from which they could
starve out the gods and make them more obliging. The chorus of birds — a
colourful troupe — is summoned up by a monody from the hoopoe, in which, as
in other lyrical parts of the play, the sounds of nature and the artistry of words
are so combined that the woods in springtime seem to be echoing with a hun-
dred strains of birdsong.
The element of agon is brought in to the part before the parabasis by the
chorus at first taking the two men for enemies and the hoopoe for a traitor. A
long speech from Pisthetaerus is necessary before they will accept his plan for
the establishment of a world empire run by birds. They did indeed have such
dominion before the gods, as Pisthetaerus takes care to remind them. For any
further measures it is necessary for the two men to become birds. The meta-
morphosis takes place during the parabasis, of which the anapaestic part is of
particular interest. It gives a truly Aristophanic theogony from a bird’s-eye view,
which is probably freely adapted from Orphic tradition.
* Peisthetairos in the MSS. cannot be right: others read Peisetairos or Peithetairos.
438
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

After the parabasis comes the christening of the city, which received the
memorable name of Cloudcuckooland! (NedeAoxoxnvyia); the construction of
the wall to cut off heaven from earth is begun, and the foundation-sacrifice is
offered up. The inevitable mumpers appear — a poet, a pedlar of oracles, the
astronomer Meton, an official observer from Athens, a seller of laws, all of whom
are sent packing in the usual sequence of episodes. Next comes the epirrhematic
partial parabasis, to which we are now accustomed, after which the gods come
onto the stage. Iris is captured as she flies through the bird-kingdom, and is
released to acquaint Zeus with the new posture of affairs. Before the gods do
anything more, there is another series of dismissal-scenes. Various men come
along and ask for feathers, to turn themselves into birds. A particularly striking
passage is the arrival of the dithyrambist Cinesias, who wants to be a nightingale,
and can only express himself in the exalted strains of his own dithyrambs. After
a stasimon from the chorus, full of personal attacks, Prometheus comes in. A
veteran plotter, he has prudently disguised himself and carries a large parasol so
that he cannot be seen from above. He tells Pisthetaerus of the embarrassments
in heaven caused by the birds’ blockade, and encourages them to persevere.
Thus Pisthetaerus knows how to act when a wildly heterogeneous embassy
comes down from heaven. It is led by Poseidon, a rather incompetent diplomat;
then comes Heracles, the coarse glutton of Dorian farce, and a barbarous
Thracian as a representative of the foreign gods. The outcome of their negotia-
tions is that Zeus has to give up Basileia (the personification of rule over the
world), and the play ends (how else?) with the marriage of Pisthetaerus and
Basileia. The tone of this ending is more solemn than we find elsewhere on a
similar theme.
At the Dionysia of this year, however, it was not Aristophanes who won,
but Amipsias with the Revellers (Kwpacrai). The third was Phrynichus with
The Solitary (v. supra, p. 422), another play of escape.
Now comes another period of a few years in which we do not know what
Aristophanes wrote, until in 411 he brought out two plays — the Thesmophoria-
zusae and the Lysistrata — both dealing with women, but with very different
basic themes. We do not know which play came out at which festival, but the
Lysistrata, with its panhellenic terms of reference, was most likely brought out
at the Great Dionysia.
The Thesmophoria was a festival common to all Greece, celebrated by women
at the time of sowing: men were rigidly excluded. In Athens it took place in the
Pnyx, where the women spent the day of the festival in leafy bowers. Aristo-
phanes’ play is built upon the invention that the women of Athens at this feast
are plotting serious measures against their incorrigible adversary Euripides. The
writer of so many plays of intrigue has devised a stratagem for his defence against
this threat: he proposes to smuggle a friend in woman’s clothing into the secret
festival. So he has arranged with Mnesilochus, a kinsman by marriage,’ to
' On the name see MURRAY, Aristophanes. Oxf. 1933, 148.
2 In the text only «ySeor#s: the proper name appears in the list of persons in the Ravennas
and in the scholia.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

depute this part to Agathon, whose effeminate manners mark him out for it.
Agathon is rolled out upon the stage from the very ecstasy of composition (like
Euripides in the Acharnians),! but he refuses to undertake so hazardous an enter-
prise. Mnesilochus steps into the breach, but he has to be shaven and singed before
he puts on the women’s clothes from Agathon’s wardrobe. The poet then makes
us witnesses of the solemn assembly, in which eloquent complainants demand
the death of Euripides for bringing their faults onto the stage and making men
suspicious. The speech of Mnesilochus in defence is not exactly acclaimed, since
he makes it a point in Euripides’ favour that he has not revealed the worst of
woman’s character. The whole section is remarkable for its bringing in themes
and stories in the manner of the Milesian tales or the Decameron. We must
suppose that such stories were current and popular even then.
At last Mnesilochus is unmasked. He tries to save himself by Telephus’
stratagem (previously parodied in the Acharnians). He snatches the child of the
principal speaker and flees to an altar. But what the swaddling clothes contain
is in fact a wineskin. That Athenian women greatly appreciated the gifts of
Bacchus is a frequent theme in comedy, and is unlikely to have been a malicious
invention.
Guarded by one of the women, Mnesilochus stays sitting on the altar while
the chorus in its parabasis sings the praises of women and depreciates men. Thus
the context of the play gives new life to the immemorial battle of words between
the sexes which had been probably part of the amusement of the spring festival
since the earliest times.
In his mortal danger Mnesilochus scribbles appeals for help on votive tablets
and throws them outside, just as Palamedes in Euripides’ play wrote of his
sufferings on oar-blades and threw them into the sea. Euripides finds the appeal,
and the sequence of episodes after the parabasis here takes the form of a series
of attempts at rescue — brilliant and fantastic parodies of scenes in Euripides —
separated by songs from the chorus. In the first Mnesilochus is Helen, and
Euripides Menelaus, trying to free his wife as in the play of 412. But the only
upshot is that Euripides is taken into custody by one of the Scythians who
served as police in Athens at that time. Next comes the Andromeda, but Perseus-
Euripides is no more successful. Mnesilochus is not freed until the third attempt,
when the poet comes to terms with the women, promising a truce in future,
and with their co-operation and that of a pretty street-walker gets the better of
the stupid Scythian.
It can be seen from what we have said that this play battens on contemporary
tragedy, but we cannot give any impression of the completeness with which
tragic parody permeates it even in individual lines and words.
Aristophanes wrote another comedy under the title Thesmophoriazusae, which
differed considerably from the extant play.
In the Lysistrata — again produced by Callistratus — the women have a quite
different end in view. They aim at stopping the war, and thus this play takes its
' Against the use of a revolving stage: E. BETHE. Rhein. Mus. 83, 1934, 23. A different
view is expressed by A. M. DALE, Wien. Stud. 69, 1956, 100.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
place beside the Acharnians and Peace. But its tone is very different: in the earlier
plays we heard much about the miseries of war, and there were many home
thrusts against those who profited from the common calamity; but the Lysis-
trata breathes a spirit of forgiveness and conciliation. It is significant that in the
middle of his city’s struggle for existence Aristophanes could express so openly
the conviction that there was a good deal to be said for Sparta, and that Athens
could do no better than extend the hand of friendship to her. Here Aristophanes
looks far beyond the Athenian horizon and shows a true panhellenic feeling.
In consequence the allusions to domestic politics are infrequent in this play,
despite all the tension that must have preceded the oligarchical putsch. It is
characteristic of Aristophanes that his obscenity is not abated one whit by his
seriousness of purpose.
Like others of Aristophanes’ plays (Clouds, Wasps, Ecclesiazusae), the comedy
opens at the break of dawn. The heroine of the piece and inventor of the strata-
gem is Lysistrata, whose seriousness of character keeps her above the general
obscenity, which here is very great indeed: she is waiting for her helpers whom
she has summoned from Boeotia and the Peloponnese. One by one the con-
spirators arrive, but as soon as Lysistrata unfolds her plan — a sex-strike to compel
the men to make peace — we see how hard such a sacrifice seems to them. The
general tone of the play is well reflected in the fact that Lysistrata’s best helper is
the Spartan woman Lampito. The agreement is solemnized by a sacrifice (of a
wineskin!), and the other measure prudently proposed by Lysistrata is carried
out: the older women occupy the city to secure the state treasury, from which
the men pay the expenses of the war.
From the very beginning of the Lysistrata there are two opposing choruses;
but we cannot be sure whether they were two whole choruses or the halves of
one. Certainly this was not an innovation: the use of two choruses disputing
one with the other was an old feature.! First the chorus of old men comes on to
storm the city and drive out the women. The chorus of women with ready
tongues and buckets of water keeps the men in check. The dispute between the
choruses is now followed in this beautifully constructed play by an agon of
individuals. A high official arrives —a member of the college of probouloi which
was set up with extensive powers in 413. A proboulos appears also in the Demes
of Eupolis. In our play his authority avails him little; he has to hear a vigorous
denunciation by Lysistrata of the faults of the men who aspire to rule, and he
has to withdraw covered in confusion. There now follows, in obvious ring-
composition, a further scene of conflict between the two choruses, singing one
against the other. This would normally be the place where we should expect
the parabasis. Did Aristophanes leave it out in order not to break the lively
pace of the action, or was the old nucleus of comedy no longer felt in 411 to be
an indispensable part? Both factors may have worked together.
It follows from the close texture of the play that episodic sequences play a
smaller part in it than in the others. There is, however, one very fine sequence
after the second conflict of the choruses. Three women one after another,
« Cf. J. LAMMER, Die Doppel- und Halbchére in der ant. Tragédie. Paderborn 1931.
441
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

slaves of their own passions, try to sneak off. The series leads up to a good climax
with the third woman, who uses a helmet to feign pregnancy. At the same time
these attempts at desertion form an effective contrast to the stout-hearted
behaviour of Myrrhine, who follows the spirit and letter of the plan. In a pro-
tracted scene which could not be more explicit she drives her husband Cinesias
to distraction and final frustration. The men of Sparta are no better off, as we
hear from a Spartan herald and see in his own person. The great peace-treaty is
preceded by a treaty between the two choruses, who now come together and
form one. The Spartan ambassadors come to discuss terms, and Lysistrata
appears accompanied by Forgiveness ~ another of those allegorical figures that
come at the end of Aristophanes’ comedies. She addresses both parties, and
reminds the conflicting Greek nations of their common destiny in a speech
which is one of the most noble and serious in Aristophanes. It is only natural
that the spirit of the komos should now assert itselfinfeasting and dancing. The
end is damaged, but not much appears to be missing.
We can well understand why this splendid play has been so often imitated,
especially in times which have known the horrors of war. But we can also
understand why all such attempts on stage or screen are doomed to failure. The
incredible frankness with which sex is handled — yet without any prurience — is
unacceptable to modern taste, while to Aristophanic comedy, its nature and
origins being what they were, such frankness was quite indispensable. Here if
anywhere we can see how necessary an historical sense is for full enjoyment of
ancient literature.
At about the same time Aristophanes wrote plays in which he attacked
Alcibiades. It seems that he did not display towards him the same hatred and
detestation that he had for Cleon: he merely ridiculed some aspects of his
behaviour. This attitude, basically not hostile, is reflected in the delicate equi-
poise of his remarks on him in the Frogs (1422). The Tagenistai, which had a
good deal to say about gluttony, was probably directed against Alcibiades:
certainly the Triphales was, in which the erotic side of his life was handled in a
way which the extant fragments show to have been highly Aristophanic.
The Gerytades seems to belong to this period of the author’s work. It took as
its theme the contrast between modern art and the old masters — almost a leit-
motiv in the work of Aristophanes. The fragments point to a commission of
modern artists being sent down by the ecclesia into the underworld, from which
they probably brought back ancient art as an allegorical female figure. We are
by now accustomed to the regular part played by such figures in Aristophanes.
The same problem was given a masterly handling in the Frogs, which Philo-
nides produced for Aristophanes at the Lenaea of 405. In our high estimate of
this play we agree with the Byzantines, although for different reasons. The
judges also gave it the first place: the second went to the Muses of Phrynichus,
on a kindred theme.
Up till now we have been able to see a certain uniformity in the construction
of Aristophanes’ plays: the element of agon is more prominent in the first half,
the episodic element in the second half. In the Frogs the situation is reversed. It
442
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
begins with a kind of prelude at the house of Heracles, to which Dionysus comes
with his slave Xanthias to enquire the way to the underworld. Heracles has been
there before to fetch up Cerberus, and Dionysus thinks it advantageous to go
down in the costume of Heracles, with club and lion-skin, to make a good
impression. The purpose of the venture is to bring back Euripides, who had
died a little before: the god of the stage cannot endure his absence. He justifies
his expedition in a conversation with Heracles on the pitiful state of the tragic
stage in Athens.
With a lightning change of scene, as allowed by comedy, we find ourselves
beside a lake in the underworld: Dionysus enters Charon’s boat, where he has
to row manfully himself. Here he is greatly troubled by the croaking of a
subsidiary chorus of frogs, which gives the play its name. Xanthias is not allowed
on board, and so he runs round the lake (i.e. round the orchestra) over which
his master is rowing. In rather a similar way, although more ceremoniously, the
god was borne through the city in his boat on wheels at the spring festival.
After going some little way on their journey, during which Dionysus gives
several proofs of the most striking cowardice, the two meet a chorus of Eleu-
sinian initiates, who are allowed to celebrate their festivals even in the under-
world. (This is the first ap pearance of the chorus.) Their hymn of invocation to
Iacchus is a pearl of Aristophanic poetry.
The value of the Heracles-costume becomes rather doubtful at this stage. At
the sight of the supposed dog-stealer, Aeacus, the porter of hellgate, becomes
furiously incensed and rushes off to fetch a policeman. Alehouse-women, whom
Heracles has eaten out of house and home, fall upon the new arrival like
maenads. But there is some consolation: a serving-maid of Persephone’s comes
with a charming invitation. In the course of these rapid episodes Dionysus makes
Xanthias repeatedly change clothes with him so that he can pass off the slave as
Heracles when it suits his book. In consequence, when Aeacus comes with the
constables, it is impossible to establish which is the god. The matter is comically
tested by flogging them both, but this leads to no certain result. In the end
Aeacus sends the two heroes into the palace so that the gods of the underworld
can decide.
The parabasis, the last that we have from Aristophanes, is shorn of its non-
responsional parts, so that it shows the same form of epirrhematic syzygy that
we have met in the second parts of the older plays. Its theme — an earnest and
persuasive appeal to Athenians to heal the wounds within their city and to reach
out the hand of forgiveness to political offenders — occasioned a second presenta-
tion of the play, according to Dicaearchus in the hypothesis. A pupil of Aris-
totle’s deserves belief on such a point: but the date of the second presentation is
uncertain. Most probably it was in the same year: perhaps even at the same
festival.
After the parabasis Aeacus and Xanthias come on, having now struck up a
friendship as between servants. From their conversation we hear of a dispute
that has broken out in the underworld: Euripides is laying claim to the throne
of tragedy, but the holder, Aeschylus, is defending it. It is now time for the two
443
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

It is
men’s art to be examined and compared, and Dionysus is to be the umpire.
obvious that the plot has here been changed. Dionysus originally went on this
expedition in order to recover Euripides, but now there is to be a contest
between the representatives of venerable tradition and of modern tragedy. But
it would be wrong to talk of two plots side by side in the play, and to invent
theories to account for the facts mentioned above. One such theory suggests
that the contest was thought of while Sophocles was still alive, while the fetching
back of Euripides was suggested by the parlous state of the stage after the for-
mer’s death. We should be better employed in appreciating the art by which
the poet twists the two themes together into an organic whole and gains the
opportunity for an animated agon.! It is true, however, that Sophocles died
while the play was in Aristophanes’ mind, and this fact called for notice. The
poet does this with a few light touches: we see this most clearly in those charm-
ing passages (78. 788) which express respect and admiration for the great
tragedian.
The contest, which is inaugurated by a solemn sacrifice, divides itself into
two formally distinct parts. This is of course no good ground for thinking that
they were written at different times. The first of these parts (895-1098), like the
dispute in the Clouds, is a good example of that strongly and symmetrically
composed agon which Zielinski? considers to be the normal form. The individual
elements are largely the same as we find in the parabasis. Ode, katakeleusmos
(‘encouragement’), epirrhema (in long verses) and pnigos are followed by their
corresponding antode etc. The epirrhemata, of course, are not set speeches, but
dialogues between the two contending poets. This section is concerned with
general principles of tragic poetry. Here, as later, the weight and grandeur of
Aeschylus, with its heavy pomp of words, is set in opposition to the lawyer-
like rhetoric and realistic depiction of character found in Euripides. A question
that receives particular attention is the value of poetry to the community,
especially its value in education. Amid the deep and serious thought the cap and
bells are not forgotten, since Dionysus punctuates the dialogue with inter-
jections concerned with quite different aspects of life, which have the comic
incongruity in which Aristophanes excels. The second section begins at 1119,
and is in trimeters varied by occasional parodies of lyric. Twice the chorus has
a short ode. In its subject matter the section may be said to end at 1414, where
Pluto takes a part, having hitherto been a silent spectator. We are here con-
cerned with the individual parts of tragedy — prologue, monody, choral ode —

1 Ably treated by stss (v. inf.) 139. But see also H. DREXLER, Die Komposition der Fr. des
Arist. Breslau 1928. SCHMID, 4, 345. KRAUS in RADERMACHER (v. inf.) 355. Drexler’s analysis
is opposed by H. ERBSE, Gnom. 28, 1956, 272 (with bibliog.). H.-J. NEWIGER, Zet. 16,
Munich 1957, 67, 6. T. GELZER, Zet. 23, Munich 1060, speaks of two conceptions super-
imposed. This is certainly true, but whether a theory of the play’s composition can be de-
duced from it is quite another thing. c. F. RUSSO, ‘Per una storia delle “‘Rane’’ di Aristo-
fane’. Belfagor, Rassegna di varia umanita 16, 1961, « (now Storia delle Rane di Ar. Proagones
2. Padua 1961), tries to prove rewriting in details after the death of Sophocles. See also his
Aristofane autore di teatro. Florence 1962, 313. More moderation is shown by E. FRAENKEL,
Beobachtungen zu Ar. Rome 1962. BESCES P4205 Teel
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
and each rather crudely travesties the other’s verses in what is called a careful
weighing of the several parts (Bacavi{ew 1121). In the end they have recourse to
a pair of scales, and, although the balance has tilted three times in favour of
Aeschylus, Dionysus still cannot make up his mind: he admires the wisdom of
the one, but takes pleasure in the other. Pluto prompts him to base his final
decision on usefulness to the community: this brings us back to the subject
matter of the epirrhematic part of the agon. Unfortunately the text is unsatis-
factory here, and various passages are suspected of being interpolations; but it is
certain that Dionysus does in fact make up his mind and takes Aeschylus back
with him as a guardian of public morals. From a formal aspect Aeschylus here
serves the turn of one of those allegorical figures which so often occur at the
end of Aristophanes’ comedies.
Two problems have to be faced here. What is Aristophanes’ attitude towards
the gods of popular belief, and what is his atttiude towards the poet whom he
derides more than any other?
Aristophanes allows himself considerable liberties with the gods. One could
hardly go further than to show Dionysus, frightened by Xanthias on his
journey through the underworld, creeping in mortal dread behind the throne
of his own priest. Such a scholar as Nilsson! explains this burlesque as betokening
the downfall of religious belief: falsely, we think. There are kinds of ridicule
which show a living proximity to their object more than distant respect can.
The stories told by simple and primitive men about their beloved gods afford
a good parallel, just as the destructive wit of a Lucian offers an illuminating
contrast. In any case, it is not every god whom Aristophanes sees in this light.
Such a treatment of Athene would be unthinkable: with Dionysus such jokes
point to a very special intimacy.
It would be wrong to apply what we have just said without modification to
Euripides, but the two questions do have a basic likeness. We should certainly
miss the point of Aristophanic comedy if we supposed that deep animosity
underlay the attacks on Euripides. The jokes of a comic writer must always be
treated as jokes. Of course, behind all the fun and mockery there is a real
concern to protect traditional values. But Aristophanes well knew that the
target of his fire was a great spirit indeed; and as the master of paratragedy, he
knew that the distorting mirror of parody is meaningful and effective only
when it reflects something great. For lesser men he had the weapon of coarse
abuse which the armoury of comedy supplied for use against Cleon and smaller
fry, not against Euripides. The tragedian had a remarkable revenge: he made a
pupil out of his determined opponent, not least where language and dialectics
were concerned. This did not escape Cratinus, who coins the term Euripid-
aristophanizon (fr. 307). |
When the walls of Athens were razed by her enemies in 404, the only world in

t Gesch. d. griech. Religion 1, 2nd ed. Munich 1955, 799. A. LESKY, ‘Griechen lachen tiber
ihre Gotter’. Wiener human. Blatter 4, 1961, 30. Sala:
2 Similarities in language are well brought out by c. pravo, Eur, nella critica di Aristof.
Galatina 1955, who also lists the passages where Euripidean influence may be suspected.
445
 ELS OR OF GREE Kem Isl eReASGRAE

which Old Comedy could live collapsed into ruins. The work of Aristophanes,
however, extends a good deal beyond this débdcle.
Of the late plays only two survive. If we can judge from them, common
features were the reduction within narrow limits of topical references to men
and affairs of the day, and the increased scope allowed to pure invention.
So we find it in the Ecclesiazusae (‘Women in Parliament’), which was
produced (according to the statement of Philochorus in the scholium to v.
293) two years after the treaty of alliance between Athens and Sparta, that is,
in 392. Comparison with the Lysistrata is inevitable. In both plays women
conspire in a revolution, in both it is one woman who holds the leading strings
of the enterprise, and in both the play opens with a conspiratorial meeting at an
early hour — here actually in darkness. But while the Lysistrata was concerned
with the most burning of topical questions, namely the ending of the war, it is
a comic Utopia that is depicted here. In the Lysistrata, behind all the fantasy, we
felt an earnest hope and exhortation that reason might be suffered to prevail,
but in the Ecclesiazusae the free play of fantasy leads light-heartedly to a reductio
ad absurdum.
The women of Athens have had enough of the unsatisfactory government of
men, and they propose to take over themselves. They sneak into the ecclesia in
disguise to force through the necessary legislation: but first they listen enthralled
to a speech from their leader Praxagora expounding her policy. They form
themselves into a chorus, sing a song about what they are doing to do, and go
into the ecclesia. Thus after the parodos the stage is empty, permitting a scene
in which Blepyrus, the husband of Praxagora, is informed of the total revolution
by Chremes, who has just come from the assembly. The chorus also comes back,
and with it Praxagora, who outlines the programme of the new régime to her
husband in a protracted agon in long verses. Basically it is simple: poverty is to
be abolished, since all is to belong to all. We have seen before that Aristophanes
often keeps his plots moving by entwining one sequence of themes with another.
So here the original theme of the regiment of women drops out of sight, and
the rest of the play turns on the enforcement of a primitive communism. While
the play has no parabasis, in all other ways it keeps the old form of composition.
The agon is followed by a series of episodic scenes throwing an ironical light on
the new régime. A loyal citizen, all ready to give up his goods, is confronted
with a sceptical smart-alec who is waiting to see how things turn out. There is
a wholly mad and wholly Aristophanic scene ~ if that is not a tautology — con-
cerned with the execution of an important point in the programme: women
are to be assured of an equal share in the delights of love by making the old
women mate before the young ones have their chance. Thus a young man who
would fain fly to his love becomes the sorry victim of some Megarian hags
like the daughters of Phorcys, who have all the allurements of a coven of
witches.
Praxagora’s revolution turns out differently in reality from what she intended.
Here again she is unlike Lysistrata, and in the second half of the play she is seen
no more on the stage. The end is negligently sketched. A serving-girl calls
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Blepyrus to the communal feast which the other citizens have already enjoyed.
This gives an excuse for the comastic ending that custom demanded, and
Blepyrus comes on contentedly enough with some women of the town. How
far the ironical tone of the previous scenes is maintained is difficult to say. At all
events the invitation of the audience to go and have a good dinner — at their
own houses (1148) — and the contrast between the description of the wonderful
fare that is waiting (ending with a word of 168 letters!) and the pease-pudding
that is served both point in this direction. The appeal to the judges is relegated
to the closing section, since there is no parabasis in which to place it.
Plato in the Republic proposed complete community of goods among the
Guardians, and treated the relations between the sexes in much the same way.
Scholars have discussed untiringly the relation between the poet and the philo-
sopher in this connection.'! We should not take it too much to heart, for Aristo-
phanes cannot be viewed as a serious theoretician of communism.? Coincidences
between the two may well have arisen from the interest then taken in such
questions. We know that Hippodamus of Miletus in the time of Pericles and
Phaleas of Chalcedon at the beginning of the fourth century drew up schemes
full of the spirit of enlightenment, the second calling for community of goods.
Certainly Aristotle (Pol. 2,7. 1266.34; 12.1274 b9) attributes these revolutionary
proposals for family life expressly to Plato, but that does not mean that they
were not discussed before. And it is always possible that Plato himself, some
twenty years before the final appearance of the Republic, may have talked of
these doctrines in one form or another.
The last piece that we have from Aristophanes is the Plutus, which he pro-
duced in 388. He had brought out a play of the same name in 408. The little
that we know about it suggests that the first Plutus was on the same theme as
the extant play.
The age-old complaint of the unjust distribution of blessings is treated here in
a kind of fairy-story which leaves out much of the personal invective and
obscenity which were the stock-in-trade of Old Comedy.
Once again in late Aristophanes we find the theme of the Daitales and Clouds.
The aged Chremylus has gone to Delphi to ask the god whether he would not
do better for his son’s career by training him to be a rascal. The god has answered
with his favourite irrelevance that Chremylus is to take into his home the first
man that he meets outside the temple. This turns out to be Plutus, whose blind-
ness is responsible for the bad state of the world. He is to recover his sight by a
miraculous cure in the temple of Aesculapius. This project is opposed by Penia,
poverty personified, who stands up for herself in an agon of the old style with
Chremylus. When Poverty praises her blessings, it is not the poverty of the
beggar that is meant in this sociologically important section, but the poverty

« Bibliography in A. MEDER, Der ath. Demos zur Zeit des peloponn. Krieges. Diss. Munich
1938, 73.
2 BR, ORRTEL in R. V. POHLMANN, Gesch. d. soz. Frage u. des Sozialismus in der ant. Welt, 3rd
ed. Munich 1925, 566. Id., Klassenkampf, Sozialismus und organischer Staat im alten Griechen-
land. Bonn 1942, 42. 3 Cf. MURRAY (v. inf.) 187.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

which makes a man work for his daily bread, not for luxuries. Much that
Poverty says is close in spirit to the closing chapter of Herodotus.
This play also shows a twining of different themes, leading in fact to consider-
able uncertainty.! Plutus is to have his sight when he distributes wealth to the
good andjust, but the notion is now slipped in that all men are to be both rich
and good, which is contradicted by the scene with the sycophant in the later
sequence of episodes.
The healing of the blind god is related in detail by the slave Carion, who with
Aristophanic lack of inhibition tells in the same breath of the trickery of the
priests and the wonders wrought by the god.
The new régime introduced (we know not how) by Plutus now that he can
see is next illustrated in the familiar way by a series of episodes. In comes a good
man to give thanks for his new prosperity; next a sycophant whose prospects
are now blighted; then a hag, sister of those in the Ecclesiazusae, whose gigolo
now no longer needs her money. Hermes comes to tell of the disorder in Olym-
pus and asks for a new job; the priest of Zeus Soter goes over to Plutus. The
latter is now conveyed to his seat in better days, the opisthodomus of the
Parthenon. For the sake of a joke or two, the impassioned crone is enlisted into
the procession, and thus the komos comes into its own (although very modestly)
at the end of the play.
We have already remarked that the parabasis is missing in the later plays of
Aristophanes. In addition it is obvious that the choral part lessens in importance,
until finally it begins to disappear from our texts. In the Ecclesiazusae there are
two choral lyric sections: in two other places (after 729 and 876) we find only
the note yopod. We find this once in the Clouds (after 888), where probably in
the second revision no choral ode was written. The Plutus, which has no choral
lyrics, has yopod four times. In other words, we have reached the situation
normal in New Comedy. The note simply indicates that a performance by the
chorus took place: by now we could describe it as separating the acts. Some kind
of dance was certainly involved: how far there was singing we cannot say with
certainty.
It must now be apparent that in late Aristophanes Old Comedy has already
lost many ofits typizal features. The jokes are fewer and less obscene, the chorus
is unimportant; we may add that the Carion of the Plutus foreshadows in many
ways the slaves who were stock figures of later comedy. The development in
this direction engaged the attention of ancient critics. Platonius declares in his
treatise Hept dvagopas kwpmdidv that such a piece as the Aeolosicon, a tragic
parody without personal invective or choral odes, already showed the features of
Middle Comedy. This may be true. But we must be more on our guard against
a theory expounded in the ancient life of Aristophanes in reference to his last
play, the Cocalus.2 On this view Menander took some of his most important
themes from this play, which had no invective, but a seduction anda recognition.
This attempt to tie up New and Old Comedy in a neat line of development
' Cf. stss, Inkongruenzen (v. inf.), 298.
* On Cocalus see M. P. NILSSON, Opuscula selecta 3, 1960, 505.
448
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
should be rejected as arbitrary; but we still face the question how comedy
altered during the fourth century. Indications from Aristophanes’ later plays
are valuable, but they do not in themselves point the way to Menander. Nor
must we think of Aristophanes as representing Old Comedy to its full extent.
In the hands of other writers themes from bourgeois life may have played a
larger part. In this connection we have already mentioned (p. 422) the plays of
Pherecrates with the names of hetaerae as titles. Here may have been a starting-
point for later developments.!
One observes with regret that amid all the critical work on the surviving
plays there has been little attempt to bring out the elements of Aristophanes’
humour. Despite his frequent use of comedy of situation, it is his language
above all that carries his humour. In verbal point and wit, sometimes brilliant,
sometimes overdone, he is inexhaustible. (This is another respect in which he
may be compared with his Viennese counterpart.) He twists the meanings of
words and makes use of similarities in sound — devices, in fact, which are common
in popular speech in every age. From this quarter too comes his trick of exploit-
ing every possibility of playing on form and meaning of proper names. He is
very fond of compounds of three or more elements, which reach a monstrous
complexity sometimes in the pnigos of parabasis or agon. A constant feature of
his language is the appearance of heterogeneous elements side by side. Basically
he uses the Attic of his own time; but just as he often sinks below it with coarse
vulgarisms, so he frequently rises above it to the spacious realm of poetic
language. His purpose in this case is usually to achieve a comic effect by parody-
ing the stilted language of tragedy: sometimes, however, especially in lyrical
passages, he uses poetical expressions with no such end in view. Thus the
variety of his language mirrors the variety of content, which mingles the real
and the fanciful in a manner that has never since been equalled.

Remains of Old Comedy apart from the surviving plays of Aristophanes: T.

KOCK, Comicorum Atticorum Fragmenta 1. Leipz. 1880. Supplemented now by
J. DEMIANCZUK, Supplementum Comicum. Cracow 1912. M. F. PIETERS, Cratinus.
Leyden 1946 (with comm.). D. L. PAGE, Greek Literary Papyri. Lond. 1950.
J. M. EDMONDS, The Fragments of Attic Comedy 1. Leyden 1957 (with trans.).
List of papyri in Pack.
The textual transmission of Aristophanes falls into three main periods. The
Alexandrians took a lively interest in Old Comedy. Eratosthenes wrote a
detailed work on it, and so did the poet Lycophron; Aristophanes of Byzantium
produced a critical edition of our poet, and other Alexandrians wrote exegetical
works, or concerned themselves with Old Comedy in other ways. For a biblio-
graphy see T. GELZER, Gnom. 33, 1961, 26, I. The great commentary of Didymus
(1st cent. A.D.) was a compilation from a great mass of criticism and exegesis. A
1 p, WEHRLI, Motivstudien zur griech. Komddie. Ziirich 1936, 17. 27. T. B. L. WEBSTER,
Studies in Later Greek Comedy. Manchester 1953.
449
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

second important factor in the transmission was that the Atticizing grammiarians
and litterateurs took Aristophanes as a source and model for their language.
Commentaries pilfering from Alexandrian labours were compiled until the end
of antiquity. Between Didymus and our present scholia we can detect a com-
mentary by Symmachus (c. A.D. 100) and explanations of particular plays by
Phaenus (between the second and fifth centuries). Thirdly, we have recently
been able to form a better idea of the work done by learned Byzantines from
the ninth century onward. It was laid down by wiLaMow!Tz and commonly
accepted that the eleven surviving plays came through the dark ages in a single
majuscule codex with variant readings, and that this was the basis of all known
manuscripts; but this view, like the corresponding views on transmission of
other authors, has been seriously shaken by Gc. zuNTZ, ‘Die Aristophanes-
Scholien der Papyri’. Byzantion 13, 1938, 635 and 14, 1939, 545, and by M.
POHLENZ (cited below under Knights). The Byzantines copied out the majuscule
into their own minuscule with consistent word-division and other aids to read-
ing; but, as POHLENZ has shown, they had more than one MS. at hand, and
recorded some of their readings as variants. According to a view developed by
ZUNTZ, which is important for other authors as well, the Byzantines originated
a new type of book in this process. Ancient commentaries (hypomnemata) were
independent works, and comments were very seldom written in the margin:
what came now was the MS. with generous margins to take the continuous
exegesis in the form of scholia. The latter, where Aristophanes is concerned,
came from various ancient sources, which still survived. w. J. w. KOSTER,
Autour d@’un manuscrit d’Aristophane écrit par Démétrius Triclinius. Groningen 1957,
tries to prove from this autograph (Par. Suppl. Gr. 463) that Triclinius was
responsible for other Aristophanes scholia as well.
List of the MSS.: J. w. wHITE, Class. Phil. 1, 1906, 1. 255; supplemented by
T. GELZER, Gnom. 33, 1961, 28, 9. The principal MSS. fall into three classes: r.
Ravennas 137 (eleventh century) with all eleven plays and scholia, although the
latter are not so good as those in the Ven. 2. Marcianus Venetus 474 (twelfth
century) with seven plays and valuable scholia; the missing plays (Ach., Eccl.,
Thesm., Lys.) are supplied by a MS. of the fourteenth century now in two
pieces — Laurent. pl. 31. 15 and Voss. Leidensis 52. 3. A family of independent
value comprises some MSS. of the fourteenth century (see CoULON in his edi-
tion). List of papyri in Pack. On the indirect transmission: w. KRAUS, Testimonia
Aristophanea. Denkschr. Ak. Wien, phil.-hist. KI. 70/2, 193t.
Bibliography 1938-55 in K. J. DOVER, Lustrum 2, 1957, 52; see also SCHMID
4, 1946.
Old editions still valuable for the apparatus: a. v. VELSEN, Leipz. 1869-83
(incomplete, supplemented by k. zAcHER through his 2nd ed. of the Knights,
Leipz. 1897 and the Peace, Leipz. 1909); J. VAN LEEUWEN, Leyden 1893-1906.
The best currently available is that of v. couLoN, with trans. by H. VAN DAELE,
1-5, Coll. des Un. de France 1923-30, often reprinted (vol. 1, 6th ed. 1958). See
also couton’s Essai sur la méthode de la critique conjecturale, appliquée au texte
d’ Aristophane. Paris 1933. Criticism of Coulon’s text is expressed by D. L. PAGE,
450
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Wien. Stud. 69, 1956, 116, 1. Other editions: R. CANTARELLA, T. (Proleg.) Milan
1949; 2. (Ach., Equ.) 1953; 3. (Nub., Vesp., Pax) 1954; 4. (Av., Lys., Thesm.)
1956. Individual plays: Acharnians: c. F. RUSSO, Aristofane, Gli Acarnesi (trans.
with analysis). Bari. 1953. Knights: M. POHLENZ, ‘Aristophanes’ Ritter’. Nachr.
Ak. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1952/5, 95. 0. NAVARRE, Les Cavaliers d’ Aristophane.
Etude et analyse. Paris 1956. Clouds: ed. w. J. M. STARKIE, Lond. 1911. w.
SCHMIDT, ‘Das Sokratesbild der Wolken’. Phil. 97, 1948, 200. H. ERBSE,
“Sokrates im Schatten der arist. Wolken’. Herm. 82, 1954, 385. T. GELZER,
‘Aristophanes und sein Sokrates’. Mus. Helv. 13, 1956, 65. C. F. RUSSO, * ““Nu-
vole”’ non recitate e ““Nuvole”’ recitate’. Stud. zur Textgeschichte und Text-
kritik. Cologne 1959, 231. — Wasps: ed. w. J. M. STARKIE, Lond. 1897. — Peace:
ed. P. MAZON, Paris 1904. — Birds: B. FRAENKEL, ‘Zum Text der Vigel des
Arist.’. Stud. z. Textgesch. u. Textkritik. Cologne 1959, 9. — Thesmophoriazusae:
W. MITSDORFFER, ‘Das Mnesilochoslied in Ar. Thesm.’. Phil. 98, 1954, 59. K.
DEICHGRABER, Parabasenverse aus Thesm. II bei Galen’. Sitzb. Ak. Berl. 1956/2.
— Lysistrata: ed. U. V. WILAMOWITZ, Berl. 1927, repr. 1958. — Frogs: ed. 1.
RADERMACHER, 2nd ed. by w. KRAUS, Oest. Ak. 1954. W. B. STANFORD, Lond.
1958 (with comm., no apparatus, good bibliography); cf. H.-J. NEWIGER, Gnom.
2, 1960, 751, with many critical observations. Edited by w. stiss with selected
scholia, Kl. Texte 66, Bonn 1911, repr. 1959. H. DORRIE, ‘Ar. Frésche 1433-
1467’. Herm. 84, 1956, 296. B. MARZULLO, ‘Aristophanes I’. Acc. Naz. dei
Lincei. Cl. di Sc. Mor. Stor. e Filol. s. VII, vol. 16: fasc. 7-12. 1961 (1962). See
also the works cited on p. 444, n. 1. — Plutus: K. HOLZINGER, Kritisch-exegetischer
Kommentar. Vienna 1940 (commentary without text). E. ROOS, “De incubationis
ritu per ludibrium apud Aristophanem detorto’. Acta Instit. Atheniensis regni
Sueci@ 3, 1960, 55. — Fragments in KOCK and DEMIANCZUK and other works
cited for Old Comedy. — Scholia: -. DUBNER, Paris 1877. W. G. RUTHERFORD
(only the more valuable scholia of the Ravennas), 3 vols. Lond. 1896-1903.
j. w. wHitez, The Scholia on the Aves of Arist. Boston 1914. On Triclinius: x.
HOLZINGER, Sitzb. Ak. Wien. 217/4, 1939. In the Scholia in Aristophanem, ed.
W. J. W. KOSTER, of the projected part IV, Joh. Tzetzae commentarii in Aristo-
phanem, two fascicules have now appeared: fasc. 1 with the prolegomena and
commentary on the Plutus, ed. 1. MASSA POSITANO, Groningen 1960, fasc. 2
with the comm. on the Clouds. ed. p. HOLWERDA, Gron. 1960. See also ZUNTZ
op. cit. For a well-documented account of the editions of the Aristophanes
scholia see T. GELZER, Gnom. 33, 1961, 26. — Verbal index: 0. J. Topp, Cambr.
Mass. 1932 (repr. by Olms of Hildesheim, 1963). Translations: B. B. ROGERS,
Loeb Class. Lib. 1924. Also in The Complete Greek Drama (v. supra under Aeschy-
lus). French tr. by H. VAN DAELE (v. supra). German byJ. G. DRoYSEN, 3rd ed.
Berl. 1881. Italian, by various hands, ed. B. MARZULLO, in La commedia classica.
Florence 1955 (includes all ancient comedy). Monographs: Pp. MAZON, Essai sur
la composition des comédies d’ Aristophane. Paris 1904. GILBERT MURRAY, Aristo-
phanes. Oxf. 1933. V. EHRENBERG, The People of Aristophanes. 2nd ed. Oxf. 1951.
w. stiss, ‘Inkongruenzen bei Ar.’. Rhein. Mus. 97, 1954, 115. 229. 289. C. F.
Russo, ‘I due teatri di Ar.’. Acc. d. Lincei. Rend. d. classe di scienze mor., stor. e
451
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

filol. 1956, 14 (attempts to distinguish by scenic technique the plays produced

at the Dionysia from those at the Lenaea). Cc. PRATO, Euripide nella critica di Ar.
Galatina 1955. W. W. GOLOWNyA, Aristophanes. Moscow Academy of Sciences,
1955; cf. Gnom. 29, 1957, 308. K. LEVER, The Art of Greek Comedy. London 1956.
H.-J. NEWIGER, Metapher und Allegorie. Stud. zu Aristophanes. Zet. 16. Munich
1957. T. GELZER, ‘Tradition und Neuschépfung in der Dramaturgie des Ar.’.
Ant. u. Abendland 8, 1959, 15. Id., Der epirrhematische Agon bei Ar. Zet. 23.
Munich 1960. K. REINHARDT, ‘Ar. und Athen’. Eur. Revue 14, 1938, 754; now
in Tradition und Geist. Géttingen 1960, 257. O. SEEL, Aristophanes oder Versuch
iiber Komédie. Stuttg. 1960. T. B. L. WEBSTER, ‘Monuments illustrating Old and
Middle Comedy’. Univ. of London Inst. of Class. Studies. Bulletin Suppl. 9, 1960.
E. FRAENKEL, Beobachtungen zu Aristophanes. Rome 1962. C. F. RUSSO, Aristofane
autore di teatro. Florence 1962. — Influence: w. stiss, Ar. und die Nachwelt. Leipz.
IQII. F. QUADLBAUER, ‘Die Dichter der griech. Komédie im literarischen
Urteil der Antike’. Wien. Stud. 73, 1960, 40.

6 POLITICAL WRITINGS
The year 433 was a fateful one in Athenian domestic politics. Thucydides, the
son of Melesias, leader of the conservative and oligarchic party, was ostracized,
and thus victory finally declared for the democrats — that is, for Pericles. Thucy-
dides’ followers, however, who as landowners detested a policy based on
strength at sea, remained in Athens in opposition, with their eyes always
turned towards Sparta. The division was not hard and fast. Many admitted more
or less openly their readiness to make peace with the demos and to secure a
place in the political scene which had irrevocably changed: others withdrew
into their political clubs and vowed war to the death against the democracy.
We have seen how far these tensions were reflected in comedy, and we must
bear in mind that a mass of fugitive literature — scolia, elegies and epigrams — is
now beyond our knowledge. In an age when Ionic prose had become an impor-
tant instrument, and when speeches in the courts and the assembly had come to
receive great attention, it is not surprising if political thought fount new forms
of expression. At first these were poetical, as before: when Timocreon of lalysus
was opposed to Themistocles, he wrote verses against him; but when Stesim-
brotus of Thasus resented the policy of Athens in the first year of the Pelopon-
nesian War, he expressed himself in a prose treatise On Themistocles, Thucy-
dides and Pericles. This polemical tract, written from the viewpoint of the
allies, has been credited with more influence than it had, since scholars have not
remembered that we have in it one accidental survivor from a kind of writing
which must have been much practised at the time.
We have a highly personal example of the political tracts of the period in the
Constitution of Athens which a happy error has brought down to us among the
works of Xenophon. “The first constitutional and sociological essay in world
literature’, as Reinhardt has called it, poses some very difficult problems. We
may first state what can be known. Obviously an oligarch wrote it for oligarchs:
he hates the democracy as the rest of his party hate it, but he condemns as useless
452
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

a war of words against it, and deprecates equally that foolish optimism which
thought that the system could not last for long. He therefore shows that the
demos has erected a wholly detestable domination of the ‘bad’ over the ‘ good’,
but that it has had sense enough to build skilfully on sure foundations.
The first of the three chapters, covering about twelve Teubner pages, devotes
its first and longest section to the advantages which the demos derives in domestic
politics. At section 14 he concentrates on relations with the allies, Athens’ most
serious problem; and at the end of the chapter he deals with questions of Athen-
ian power at sea. This discussion takes up most of the second chapter as well,
culminating in an analysis of the drawbacks which Athens suffered from not
having an island situation — the ideal for a maritime empire. Here there is a
certain contradiction in the writer’s thought — one which he shared with most
of his fellow oligarchs. He knows and declares what naval power means to
Athens; but at the same time he realizes that it is bound up with the democratic
constitution, which alone can man the fleets. What he says on Athenian strength
at sea reflects the controversies of his time. We may thus explain his agreement
with Thucydides (1. 143) who also stresses the advantages of an island site. At
the end of c. 2 he returns to domestic politics. We see here, despite the closeness
of the reasoning in general, that same ‘ring-composition’ which we met so
often in archaic poetry.! It appears also in the beginning of the third chapter,
which returns to the theme of total disapprobation of the democracy. In general
this chapter has the look of an appendix, dealing with various abuses, particu-
larly the tediousness of legal processes. At the end he raises the question whether
the men who are unjustly defrauded of their civil rights by the democracy are
numerous enough to overthrow it. He roundly declares that they are not. Far
from calling for a coup d’état, he warns his fellow-oligarchs in these closing
sections not to toy with notions of revolution without recognizing the diffi-
culties in its way.
We may now consider the question of authorship. To assign it to a particular
individual is quite impossible. Every possibility has been explored: the work has
been attributed to Thucydides the politician, and with like confidence to
Thucydides the historian. None of these attributions is worthy of being
refuted. The political background of the author we have already stated. We
may ask ourselves whether he lived in Athens or abroad, and to whom the
work was directed. In this connection an important passage is 1. 11, where he
says that one might well wonder at the freedoms permitted to slaves ad7ém (i.e.
in Athens). The inference that this passage was written by someone away from
Athens is not the only one possible, but it is the most likely. We can also profit-
ably compare the way in which a speaker in a ‘Socratic’ dialogue? repeatedly
uses éexet and évOdSe to signify Sparta and Athens respectively. This is one of the

t The importance of ring-composition in the work has been pointed out by two scholars
simultaneously: R. KATICIC, Ziva Antika. Skoplje 1955, 267. H. HAFFTER, ‘Die Komposition
der pseudoxen. Schrift vom St. d. Ath.’. Navicula Chiloniensis. Leyden 1956, 79.
2 Pap. Soc. It. 1215, cf. V. BARTOLETTI, ‘Un frammento di dialogo socratico’. Stud. It. 31,
1959, 100.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

reasons why Hohl’s ingenious suggestion that the work is a private letter of an
Athenian oligarch to a sympathizer in Sparta is not necessarily the right solution.
This theory rests mainly on the words (1. 11): ‘In Sparta my slave was afraid
of you’. But if we take into account the preceding and the following sentences
we shall see that the expression is purely general. The whole tendency of the
work, with its scarcely concealed warning against rash attempts at revolution,
seems to be aimed at those circles of émigré politicians in whom the Greek world
was so wretchedly rich.
It is no less hard to say when the work was written, since we do not know
who wrote it, and as the oldest piece of Attic prose it does not allow stylistic
comparisons. The one clear token (pointed out over a century ago by Wilhelm
Roscher) is in 2. 5, where we read that a land power cannot operate many days’
march from its base. No one could have gone on thinking this after Brasidas
had marched through the length of Greece to take Amphipolis.' At the other
end scholars have tried to limit the possibilities by pointing to the references to
the deliberations of the bule on the war (3. 2) and to what is said about hostile
devastation in Attica (2. 14): these, they say, refer to the Peloponnesian War,
and the work was written after it began. Thus we are reduced to the period
between 431 and 424: if we try to narrow it still further, we do not succeed.
But Instinsky has rejected the terminus post quem and has dated the treatise
before the Peloponnesian War. In this Frisch and Hohl follow him. One must
admit that ‘the war’ may simply mean hostilities in general, and that the
devastation of Attica may have been discussed as a possibility in debates on
Pericles’ strategy before the war began. These considerations do not, of course,
prove an early date. It may well have been written in the war, although naturally
not published. That it was intended for a small circle of like-minded politicians
seems beyond doubt.
The language of this piece, our earliest Attic prose, is very interesting.
Sophistic influence is not detectable. A truly Attic striving towards clarity and
actuality stands in attractive contrast with the artlessness of the periods and the
sentence-connections. Catchwords at the beginnings of chapters are obviously
used for articulation; antitheses are sought after, although the antithesis in form
does not always correspond to one in sense; in driving home a point the writer
often uses colloquial turns of phrase. We feel that we are witnessing the same
progress that gives pleasure in some of the writings of the Hippocratic corpus:
content and form are not yet perfectly matched. Classical Greek prose was to
be an achievement of the fourth century.”

Editions: £. KALINKA, Leipz. 1913 (still fundamental). H. ERISCH, Copenhagen

1942 (both these with comm.). Kalinka’s text with praef. and app. crit. was
' GIGANTE (v. inf.) unhappily gives this position up and will only allow the putsch of
411 as a terminus ante quem.
* Vv. PISANI, Storia della lingua greca in Encicl. Class. 2/5/1, 106, rightly stresses that this
early Attic prose is much influenced by Ionian prose of the time.
454
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
reprinted Stuttg. 1961. Studies: H. u. INSTINSKY, Die Abfassungszeit der Schrift
vom Staate der Athener. Diss. Freiburg 1932. K. 1. GELZER, Die Schrift vom St. d.
Ath. Herm. E 3, 1937. £. RUPPRECHT, Die Schrift vom Staate d. Ath. Klio Beih.
44, 1939 (tries to eject interpolations). M. VOLKENING, Das Bild des att. Staates in
der pseudoxen. Schrift vom St. d. Ath. Diss. Miinster 1940. 8. HOHL, ‘Zeit und
Zweck der pseudoxen. Ath. Pol.’. Class. Phil. 45, 1950, 26. L. C. STECHINI,
"A@nvaiwy moditeta. Glencoe, Illinois 1950. M. GIGANTE, La costituzione degli
Ateniesi. Naples 1953.

7 THUCYDIDES
The external evidence for the life of the greatest historian of antiquity is no
better than the general run of such traditions, in either extent or reliability. We
have two manuscript lives, of which the more elaborate is a compilation from
various sources, going under the name of Marcellinus. The opening shows that
it is a lecture intended for the rhetorical schools, where Thucydides was studied
after Demosthenes. To these can be added a fragment of a biographical collec-
tion on papyrus (1612 P.), the article in Suidas and a rhetorical encomium on
Thucydides by Aphthonius. As often happens, the safest source of information
s the work itself; and with an historian we are naturally better off than with a
poet.
In the first sentence of his introduction Thucydides tells us something that
will be important, when we consider the problem of compositional layers in the
work — that he began to write the history of the war as soon as it broke out,
realizing that it was greater and more fateful than any that had gone before. In
the so-called ‘second introduction’ (5. 26) he tells us that during all the twenty-
seven years of the war he was of an age to be able accurately to record the
events; and in the same passage we learn that after his command at Amphipolis
in 424 he was in exile for twenty years. The occasion of this banishment, from
which he was not able to return until after the defeat of Athens, is related in an
earlier section (4. 104 ff.). At the time when Thucydides became one of the ten
strategi (424) and was charged, together with Eucles, with the safeguarding of
Athenian interests in the northern Aegean, no one could have expected that this
theatre of conflict could become a decisive one. Sparta, after the catastrophe of
Sphacteria and the siege of Cythera by Nicias, was almost forced to her knees,
when Brasidas, by a bold diversionary move, saved the situation. His march
through the whole length of Greece and his action against Chalcidice threatened
vital Athenian possessions. When he attacked Amphipolis on the estuary of the
Strymon, Thucydides sailed from Thasos with a relieving force of seven ships.
But he came too late, and he could do no more than secure the harbour of
Eion. The brevity of the narrative does not conceal the fact that someone had
blundered. Brasidas has already spent some time outside Amphipolis before he
realised that his hopes of a speedy surrender were in vain. If Thucydides is right
in saying that he responded immediately to the appeal for help, the blame must
be laid on the man who sent for him too late. In Athens, however, judgment
went against Thucydides, and he was banished.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

In this same section Thucydides mentions the influence that he had in the
area as the owner of some Thracian goldmines - which, no doubt, is why he
was entrusted with command on that front.
Another scrap of information about Thucydides’ life is his own statement
(2. 48) that he suffered personally from that appalling visitation of the year 430
which we call the plague, although its identity, despite all investigations,
remains obscure.!
If we try to add to the sparse details which Thucydides gives about himself,
there is nothing that is certain, and little that is probable. If Thucydides was a
young man in 431 when the war began, and on the other hand was at least
thirty when he was chosen strategus in 424, we must place his birth about 460.
The name of his father, Olorus (4. 104), is significant. The name is Thracian,
and is the same as that of the Thracian king whose daughter was married to
Miltiades, the victor of Marathon — a marriage of which Cimon was the off-
spring. Since this Thracian name is otherwise unattested at Athens, itis a plausible
assumption that on his father’s side Thucydides was related to Cimon’s family
in some way, although we do not know quite how. The Thracian goldmines,
probably a family possession, fit well enough into such a context. Belonging to
the Philaid deme, the historian was very probably connected with Thucydides,
the son of Melesias. This conservative statesman, Pericles’ dangerous and
persistent opponent until he was ostracized in 443, was according to Plutarch
(Per. 11) a kinsman by marriage — probably a son-in-law, of Cimon. Thus we
see that Thucydides was closely connected by birth with the leading conservative
circle in Athens, which would hardly have predisposed him to appreciate
and to record the greatness of Pericles. But Thucydides has well been described
as a ‘genius of objectivity’, and the factual cast of his mind enabled him to
assess the great potentialities of the democracy as well as to see the cracks in the
fabric of Periclean Athens.
Thucydides is the exact opposite of the prejudiced or tendentious historian,
and he has served all subsequent ages as an example of objectivity. Our own age,
however, which has seen and read so much theoretical discussion of the un-
conscious working of prejudice, needs hardly to be told that Thucydides’ earnest
wish to be objective did not always save him from bias. When he says (2. 65) that
the Athens of his day bore only the name of a democracy, being in fact under the
rule of her first citizen, he may be right; but he is also showing how a man of
the old nobility viewed the personality of Pericles. It says much for Thucydides’
self-restraint where personal judgments are concerned that he warmly praises
(8. 97) the constitution of the summer of 411, which lasted no more than eight
months. It seemed to him to have effected that reconciliation of the interests of the
many and the few, which was the goal of Aristotelian political thinking. Such a
view cannot, of course, stamp Thucydides as an oligarch. It is idle to apply to
such a man the political smear-words of his day. He is outspoken enough in
condemning the oligarchic terror which preceded that moderate constitution.
' Most recently examined by p. L. PAGE, ‘Thucydides’ Description of the Great Plague
at Athens’. Class. Quart. 47, 1953, 97.
456
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
After the disaster of Amphipolis Thucydides spent twenty years in exile, and
we should like to know where he lived during that time. The life by Marcellinus
shows us that even in antiquity many men thought many things, but nobody
knew. The most credible tale is that he lived on the mainland opposite Thasos,
on his estate of Skapte Hyle, although he can hardly have spent the whole time
there. This was a place where he had ties both of birth and of property. In
Skapte Hyle also a plane tree used to be pointed out under which he was
supposed to have written. This is a typical local legend,! and reminds us of the
cave of Euripides on Salamis. Marcellinus also says that the Peripatetic Praxi-
phanes listed Thucydides among that group of artists and writers whom
Archelaus of Macedon gathered around him. On the same page we read that an
epigram on the grave of Euripides (Anth. Pal. 7. 45) was ascribed to Thucydides.
From such stories we should not accept that Thucydides was indeed connected
with the circle in question: in fact what Praxiphanes says points rather the other
way, and suggests that at the time Thucydides had acquired none of his later
reputation.
Again we must turn to Thucydides himself to be on the safest ground. In the
second introduction (5. 26) he says that his work benefited by the accident which
gave him connections with both parties and with the Peloponnesians themselves.
Presumably then in these twenty years he travelled considerably: precisely
where, we cannot say.
The historian speaks of the military reforms of Archelaus of Macedon with
evident approval (2. 100). This is a different view from Plato’s, in whose
Gorgias he appears as violent and unscrupulous. The passage does not give the
impression of speaking of a man still living. Uncertain as it is, this is our one
indication of the date of Thucydides’ death, which we should then have to
place after 399, when Archelaus died. If the supposition is correct, we can say
that he was still working at his history after 399.
Thucydides’ statement (5. 26) that he was in exile for twenty years after the
loss of Amphipolis leaves no room for doubting that he returned to Athens after
her defeat in 404. Pausanias (1. 23, 9) speaks of a proposal for the recall of
Thucydides that was carried through the ecclesia by Oenobius. This proposal,
one supposes, came a little before the peace treaty of 404 with its general amnesty;
but we may put it after that date, if we imagine that Thucydides was at first
unwilling to trust the amnesty. His return to Athens fits well with the account
of his grave, bearing his name, and situated near the Melitan gate among those
of Cimon’s family. From Marcellinus we learn that a fierce controversy raged
about this grave, which must have still existed. An obstinate tradition had it
that Thucydides died in Thrace, and in consequence some took the grave in
Athens to be a cenotaph, while others declared that his body had been brought
home and secretly buried. Didymus, on the other hand, maintained that he
died and was buried in Athens.? We cannot decide with certainty; but we can
well believe that, after a visit to Athens, Thucydides might have returned to
the northern districts which were his second home. In this case the cenotaph
1 H. GERSTINGER, Wien. Stud. 38, 1916, 65. 2 $CHMID is mistaken, §. 15.
457
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

story would be the right one, and scholars have been wrong in dismissing it as
pure invention.
We are told that Thucydides met a violent death,' some say in Athens, others
in Thrace. The history ends suddenly in the middle of a sentence, which can be
easiest explained by damage in the transmission. Possibly the violent death was
invented to explain this sudden breaking off. An obscure tradition, which
Marcellinus says is impossible, makes Thucydides’ daughter the writer of the
eighth book. Perhaps under this story may lie a fact: she played perhaps some
part in preserving the text. To dismiss the account as mere fable is to be too
sceptical.
There is no anciently attested title of Thucydides’ work, and the division into
eight books was not made by the author. We have evidence of other attempted
divisions, which were finally dropped in favour of that which we now have.
Before considering the composition and inner form of the history, we should
see briefly how the matter is laid out.
Dionysius of Halicarnassus (ad Pomp. p. 234 U.-R.) rather pedantically takes
Thucydides to task for wilfully disarranging the natural sequence of events
in his introduction, instead of telling what happened in an orderly manner.
The introduction in fact shows us how much more Thucydides’ heart was in
research than in narration.
The first sentences declare that the war between Athens and Sparta had
brought in its train, both for Greece and for most of the human race, a con-
vulsion much greater than anything previously known. But Thucydides is not
content with this unsupported statement: he at once brings an historical proof
of it — the so-called ‘archaeologia’* (chapters 2-19). Here we find a succinct
account of Greek history from the earliest times up to his own day, dedicated
to proving how important this war was when compared with earlier wars. The
‘archaeologia’ is like an overture in which themes and subjects which are to be
of the greatest importance in the body of the work make their first appearance.
In the foreground is always the question of concentration of power — a term
which to Thucydides always means military potential. Hermann Strasburger?
has recently pointed out that the preponderance of the political and military
element in historical writing until recent times can be traced in a direct line from
Thucydides. In this section also we meet the leading theme of the history — that
in the Aegean world power meant always sea-power. Thus Thucydides begins
with the setting up of a maritime empire by Minos, and gives a picture of it
which we could not well judge until the large-scale excavations in Crete at the
turn of the century. The naval factor is well to the fore all through this sketch
of history, which goes up to the Persian wars and the rivalry between Athens
and. Sparta once the common danger was removed.
The archacologia begins with a picture of the most primitive conditions of
life in Greece, with no fixed settlements. It traces the development of a safer
~
Marcellinus; Plut. Cim. 4; Paus. 1. 23, 9.
n
BE. TAUBLER, Die Archdologie des Thuk. Leipz. 1927.
w “Die Entdeckung der politischen Gesch. durch Thuk.’ Saeculum 5, 1954, 395.
458
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

and more ordered life through the putting down of piracy and the rise of large
concentrations of power. In this he commits himself to the view of human
history as a steady development from early primitive conditions — a view which
contrasts with the Hesiodic conception of four ages, and which found its most
active representative among the sophists in Protagoras. This progress is seen
by the historian principally as the development of power-blocs, without any
moral overtones.
Thucydides takes a scientific attitude in striving for complete accuracy (76
cages) in his reports. For contemporary events this may be achieved either by
personal experience or by the witness of one who himself took part. To achieve
such certainty about the past is more difficult, but here also a convincing indica-
tion (Texj)prov) is the object sought after. It is significant that the word occurs
in 1, 1 and 1. 19, as it were framing the archaeologia. Decisive documentary
evidence, however, may not be forthcoming. Here the goal is harder to reach,
and one must aim at the probable instead of the proven. To reach the probable
(ro eixds) one uses a method (ef«afew) which the sophists greatly developed in
connection with forensic oratory. In the course of our treatment we shall see
how impossible it is to imagine Thucydides without the background of the
sophistic movement. But an important reservation has to be made: the sophistic
speaker strove to attach the appearance of probability to whatever view suited
his case; Thucydides uses the method of etxafew in order to approach as near as
possible to the truth. An example is his treatment of the Trojan war. He does not
simply take Homer as an historical source, but sets aside all the purely mythical
elements in the attempt to extract historical data. In this he is on as slippery
footing as we are today, and the questions that he puts are our questions.
Next come three chapters (20-22) which form a close unity. They are con-
nected to the earlier chapters by a further demonstration of the importance of
the Peloponnesian War; what is new here is that they set out the historian’s
objectives and the ways by which he hopes to reach them. The passage will be
of great importance in considering other parts of the history.
The 23rd chapter makes a smooth transition. The unique scale of the Pelopon-
nesian War is again stressed, with special reference to the Persian wars; then
Thucydides passes to the outbreak of hostilities. Here we find a most interesting
distinction between the particular motives (airéaz) that led to the breaking of the
Thirty Years’ Peace in 446-5, and the underlying cause (aAnfeordry mpdgpacis),
deeply rooted in the nature of things which compelled Sparta as if by a natural
law to take up arms against the threat posed by growing Athenian strength.’
In the succeeding chapters (24-87) the causes are analysed and the narrative
is taken up to the declaration of war. The first conflict arises from competition
between Corinth and Corcyra; then come hostilities between Corinth and
Athens, leading to Potidaea.
At length a conference is called of the Peloponnesian League at its head-
quarters, Sparta, where complaints are levelled against Athens. Thucydides here,
going into greater detail than anywhere else in the work, gives us two antithetical
1 A, ANDREWES, ‘Thucydides on the Cause of the War’. Class. Quart. N.S. 9, 1959, 223.
459
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

pairs of speeches analysing the motives and the assumptions of the league
in power politics. The Corinthian representative speaks to the League, and is
opposed by one of the Athenian ambassadors who were in Sparta on other
business. Then come speeches of the Spartans among themselves in council:
Archidamus makes a thoughtful assessment of Athenian military resources, and
is opposed by a wild and warlike speech from the ephor Sthenelaidas.
Chapter 88 also serves as a neat transition. The Spartans have decided on war,
not so much for their allies’ sake as in order to oppose the threatening growth
of Athenian power while there is yet time. Thus we have at the same time a
device of ring-composition, harking back to the underlying cause explained in
c. 23, and a preparation for the following sketch of the ‘pentekontaeteia’.
This outline (89-118)! of the almost fifty years between the victory over the
Persians and the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War is recognized by Thucydides
himself as breaking the thread of his narrative (97: €xBoA7 tod Adyou). He
justifies its insertion in two ways: firstly that this part of Greek history had been
generally neglected, and had lately been treated very inaccurately by Hellanicus
in his Atthis; secondly — this being the real reason — that he is thus enabled to
trace the development of Athenian power.
The last section of the first book (119-146) is devoted to the last negotiations
before the outbreak of hostilities; and here again the focal point is a pair of
conflicting speeches. The Corinthian speaker enlarges on the necessity of the
war and the prospects of victory to persuade his hearers to join in the war on
Sparta’s side, while Pericles, in the first of his three speeches,? sets out the
prospects for the Athenians, and develops the basic features ofhis grand strategy,
with which in Thucydides’ view victory was indissolubly linked: full use of
Athenian naval supremacy, but on land a purely defensive policy based on a
strongly fortified Athens.
In describing the last negotiations between Athens and Sparta, Thucydides
takes the opportunity of narrating the deaths of Pausanias and Themistocles.
The relevance of these details lies in the important, although conflicting, roles
which the two men played in the origins of the Athenian naval league.
In the second book the narrative of the war properly begins, the first event
being the night attack of the Thebans on Plataeae in the spring of 431. Thucy-
dides dates the outbreak by all the available systems, by the priestess of Hera at
Argos, the eponymous ephor at Sparta, and the Athenian archon. Thus the
starting-point is as firmly anchored as was then possible. Thereafter Thucydides
dispenses with such chronological indications, and relates the events in yearly
sequence, dividing each year into summer and winter. He attached such impor-
tance to this method for the clear overall view it gave of the course of the long
war, that he accepted the many disadvantages of an annalistic treatment. Thus
he is obliged to spread the account of the siege of Platacae over three yearly
sections. The division that he thus adheres to is underlined by a formal con-
clusion to each section, often giving the author’s name. In 5. 20 Thucydides
1 p. K, WALKER, ‘The purpose and method of the Pentekontaetia in Thuc. book 1’. Class.
Quart. N.S. 7, 1957, 27. 2 H. HERTER (v. sup.).
460
 THE FPEOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

deliberately defends his division into summers and winters. preferring it to a

division by archons or other officials.' Probably these reflections are aimed at
Hellanicus, who divided up his Aithis according to the terms of office of archons.
The second book covers the first three years of the war, with the two Spartan
inroads into Attica and the various attempts to neutralize each other’s allies. At
the end of the narrative of the first year Thucydides puts the highly wrought
oration of Pericles over the fallen. Dionysius of Halicarnassus (de Thuc. 351
U.-R.) again misses the point when he says that the losses of that year were not
heavy enough to justify such a highly wrought speech. He rightly observes that
the occasion enabled Thucydides to give Pericles a speaking part; but this is not
all. The epitaphios does not say much about the dead, but is eloquent about the
city for which they had given their lives. Athenian power and national character
were well illuminated in the speeches of the first book, from their very different
standpoints: soon the historian will have to tell of the first heavy blows to the
greatness and self-confidence of Athens. In the meantime he paints in this speech
a picture of the Athenian state as Pericles wished to model it — a picture which
to the speaker himself was more an ideal than an accomplished reality. In this
context it would be vain to attempt any distinction between Thucydides’
thought and that of Pericles. To the historian in his impressionable years the
work of Pericles seemed to fulfil the ideal of political activity; and this agree-
ment finds expression in the speeches that he puts into his mouth, most of all in
the epitaphios. Like all great works of art, it is effective in several distinct ways.
It offers the sharpest contrast to the Spartan way of life as that was variously
viewed and depicted in the first book, while on the other hand it gives a self-
contained picture of the spiritual inheritance which the state preserves for future
ages. In this portrayal of the Athenian freedom of the individual in association
with the whole, and in the exposition of Athens’ destiny to be an example and
an education to all Hellas, Thucydides richly compensates us for that determined
reticence with which elsewhere he excludes all aesthetic and spiritual judgments
from his study in the play of political power.?
Immediately following this portrayal of the city fulfilling itself in tempered
freedom and spiritual values comes the painful description of the terrible plague
which in the second year of the war dealt Athens her first real wound. We
mentioned before that all the clinical accuracy of the description has not enabled
us to identify the disease. The consequence of this affliction was a lowering of
morale, which Pericles tried to counter in the third and last of the speeches that
Thucydides gives to him (60-64). It is a renewed justification of that Periclean
grand strategy, built upon naval supremacy, which the historian considered to
be incontestably right.
1 O, LENDLE, ‘Zu Thukydides 5. 20. 2’. Herm. 88, 1960, 33.
2 p, MULLER, ‘Die blonde Bestie und Thukydides’. Harv. 8tud. 63, 1958 (Festschr. Jaeger),
171, brings out the ethical themes in the Funeral Speech. One does not sympathize, however,
with his reading in 41. 4 of xaddv re Kal dyafdv (instead of Kaxdv Tr. x. a.) with some recen-
tiores. For a penetrating stylistic analysis of the speech see J. T. KAKRIDIS, Der thukydideische
Epitaphios. Zet. 26. Munich 1961. He imagines the aged Thucydides, amid all his disillusion,
penning this as a monument to his still enduring love for Athens.
Q 461
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

This speech is followed at once by a lengthy chapter which has a special place
in the history as a whole. In it Thucydides judges the statesman who was his
political model, in all his clear foresight, the purity of his character and his gift
for swaying the masses in the direction he chose. At the same time he assesses the
permanence of his work, which was not wholly destroyed by the later catas-
trophes for which others were responsible. Not even the Sicilian expedition,
in Thucydides’ opinion, was an undertaking beyond Athenian strength: its
failure was to be laid at the door of those leaders who were unfit to receive the
legacy of Pericles. The generous estimate of Pericles’ abilities is further height-
ened by the contrast with the incapacity of those who should have been his
successors, who instead became the slaves of popular favour and of popular
whims. The wide implications of this chapter embrace much of the future
development of Athens, and introduce the second political leitmotiv of the
work: just as Athenian power was the inevitable consequence of the national
character and of the circumstances of the age, so in the core of the democratic
structure were elements of danger, which were liable to lead to destruction
when there was no strong man at the head of affairs.
In the narrative of the third year of warfare the Spartans made their début
on the sea, while the Athenians, through their alliance with the Thracian king
Sitalces, seek to enlist a major land power on their side. Thucydides takes the
opportunity in this context of describing the kingdom of the Odrysae (97) and
the dominance of Perdiccas in Macedonia (99). It is very instructive to compare
this account, rigidly subordinated to the assessment of political power, with
the lively detail and anecdote that marks Herodotus’ excursions into ethno-
graphy.
The third book covers three years of the war, from the fourth to the sixth. In
his account of the fourth and fifth year Thucydides lays stress on those incidents
which show the heightening of hostile feeling and the frightening increase of
barbarity. To allow this special emphasis he describes such things as the two
Spartan inroads into Attica in the barest of chronicle styles (1; 26). The revolt
and punishment of Mytilene is related at length (2-50), and again the important
developments and the forces at work in them are brought out by the speeches
which he inserts. The scene in which the Mytilenian ambassador, after his city
has decided to revolt, comes to Olympia to ask for Peloponnesian help, under-
lines the internal problems of the maritime confederacy, in which Athenian
supremacy leads inevitably to Athenian tyranny.
Such a form of empire had been considered by Pericles in his last speech
(2. 63), in which he said that it would be wrong to seek such rule, but dangerous
to abandon it. But now, when the Athenian people sits in judgment over the
Mytilenians after their surrender, it is not Pericles who addresses them, but
Cleon. It is he who gains the support of the popular assembly for the frightful
decree that all adult males in Mytilene shall be put to death and the women and
children enslaved, while the territory shall be divided up. Scarcely has the ship
sailed with orders when the Athenian people regret their decision; another
assembly the next day discusses the question anew. Thucydides has a powerful
462
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
scene of debate (3, 37-40. 42-48),! in which Cleon angrily defends his first
proposal, but is opposed by one Diodotus, who represents the senselessness of
such brutality and substitutes a proposal which punishes only the guilty — albeit
with extreme severity. A ship is hastily dispatched, and is just in time to prevent
the carrying out of the first edict. It is characteristic of Thucydides and typically
Greek that this impassioned debate is at the same time a general consideration
of the value of deterrent punishments.
This picture of Athenian brutality is at once followed by its Spartan counter-
part at Plataeae (52-86). After a siege of three years the city had been driven by
hunger to surrender in 427. The case of the Plataeans was judged under Spartan
presidency. Another of Thucydides’ antithetical pairs of speeches sets forth the
defence put forward by the vanquished and the complaints urged by Thebes
against them. Here again a frightful revenge is taken. Plataeae had won glory
in the defence of freedom against the Persian; but now two hundred of her
citizens were put to death, the remaining women enslaved, and the city itself
a little after razed to the ground.
Shortly before the trial of the Plataeans, in the summer of 427, the civil war
in Corcyra had come to an end. For the third time we are given a picture of an
inferno of political hatred. With Athenian help the oligarchs had been over-
thrown, and the demos was drinking their blood. Here we have those chapters
(82 ff.) which give a complete pathology of the conflict, and reveal these
bloody scenes as the working out of certain fatal laws of human behaviour.
Thucydides here is like a physician at a bedside, making his diagnosis from the
observable symptoms: he shows how war, which unchains the most violent
human passions, leads from the inner tensions that are found in any state to a
conflict of each against each. The fever of such conflicts is strikingly illustrated
by the reversal of the meaning of words from that which they bear in time of
peace. This the keen observer may detect in the frightening change of usage of
such terms as ‘clever’, ‘brave’, ‘good’ and the like. Like so many of the sections
on which Thucydides lays particular stress, this passage has a double aspect. It
focuses, as if in a burning-glass, the impressions we have received from the
preceding narrative, while at the same time it looks forward to the later part of
the work, in which a similar rake’s progress brings even the great achievement
of Pericles to destruction.
In contrast to the close texture of the main sections of the third book, its final
chapters are taken up with scattered detail. The most important development
here is the dispatch of a small fleet to Sicily in the spring of 427 to support the
Ionian and Chalcidian cities against a Doric coalition centred on Syracuse.”
The fourth book again relates three years of war, the seventh, eighth and
ninth. If Thucydides was obliged to relate disconnected detail at the end of the
third, the fourth enables him to group his narrative around a focal point of the
war. The Athenian general Demosthenes has occupied Pylos, on the west coast
p, EBENER, ‘Kleon und Diodotos’. Wiss. Zeitschr. Halle 5, 1955/56, 1085. /
2 H. D. WESTLAKE, ‘Athenian Aims in Sicily, 427-424 B.c. A Study in Thucydidean
Motivation’. Historia 9, 1960, 385.
463
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

of the Peloponnese, with a true appreciation of its strategic possibilities. On the

island of Sphacteria, lying a little offshore, a considerable number of Spartan
elite troops have been cut off. The copious treatment (2-41) given by Thucy-
dides to these operations shows his concern to represent them as one of the key
points of the long conflict. Spartan feelings are deeply involved; she recalls her
troops from Attica, concludes an armistice, and sends an embassy to Athens to
discuss terms of peace. But Cleon brings these overtures to nothing. In a public
debate, depicted with a masterly hand, he is manceuvred by Nicias into assuming
command at Pylos; and in a very short time he forces the Spartan hoplites to
surrender.
Among the events of the following year (424) Thucydides emphasizes those
which point to a change in Athenian fortunes. The investment of Cythera was
indeed a considerable reverse for Sparta, but in Sicily affairs took a turn un-
favourable to Athens. Hermocrates in a meeting at Gela procured agreement
among all the Sicilian Greeks, and the Athenians, thus cheated of an excuse for
intervention, recalled their ships. Thucydides attached such importance to this
action of Hermocrates’ that he gives him a speech (4. 59-64) full of sound com-
mon sense, to which there is no answer.
From 4. 78 to 5. 11 the various episodes of the war are linked by the domina-
ting presence of Brasidas, the saviour of Sparta, whom Thucydides treats
throughout with unmistakable respect. His importance is shown by the
historian’s putting no less than three speeches into his mouth (4. 85-87 and 126;
5. 9). In the course of his campaigns around Chalcidice after his brilliant north-
ward march came that successful swoop on Amphipolis which played so fateful
a role in the career of Thucydides. In this first year of revived Spartan activity
under Brasidas we read also of the heavy reverse which the Boeotian army
inflicted on the Athenians at Delium: an action whose importance is stressed
by the speeches given to the opposing generals before the battle (4. 92 and 9s).
The fifth book covers a greater span of time than any other, extending from
the tenth year to the winter of the sixteenth - accepting with Thucydides the
year of the Peace of Nicias as part of the war as a whole. First comes the con-
clusion of Brasidas’ operations: both he and Cleon meet their death before
Amphipolis. On both sides the desire for peace now becomes effective, and in
421 Athens and Sparta make a peace and a defensive alliance to last for fifty
years.
This treaty is recognized by Thucydides as a major event: as with the out-
break of hostilities, he dates it circumstantially, here by the ephor and the
archon. Yet-at the same time he shows that this peace at the very moment of its
inception contained the seeds of future conflict. He treats the various phases of
the long struggle as making up one Peloponnesian war, and devotes a special
chapter (5. 26) to justifying this view. There is every reason for the term
‘second prologue’ which has been applied to this chapter, for it serves to intro-
duce all that follows. Thucydides here looks forward to the intended conclusion
of his work, which was to reach 404, and demonstrates that the years between
the Peace of Nicias and the second outbreak of open hostilities does not represent
404
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
a breaking off of the conflict between the two great powers. Each strove to
injure the other where possible, and so these six years and ten months must be
rightly understood as part of a great war of twenty-seven years. In discussing
Thucydides’ life we have dealt with the relevant data contained in this chapter.
The major part of the fifth book has the rather thankless task of relating this
period of uncertain peace with its many small and devious campaigns. The book
is less well written than the first four: few leading themes appear, and there is no
analysis of events by means of speeches. It is very hard to say whether this fact
arises from the nature of the material, its being taken up with so many detached
incidents, its lack of dominant personalities, or whether the work did not
receive the final touch of the master’s hand. This is a question which will face us
again in the eighth book.
It is hard to summarize such disconnected incidents; but what does emerge is
the renewed strength of Sparta, which was decisive at the battle of Mantinea
(418).
While much in the middle of this book is rather sketchy, the last section
(84-116), dealing with the fate of the island of Melos, shows as finished work-
manship and as serious content as anything in the history. A short account of
the expeditionary force sent by Athens against the island in 416 is followed by
the discussion between the Athenian representatives and the Melian councillors.
The dialogue form which Thucydides has chosen for it is highly unusual in an
historical work: comparison with Socratic dialogues is unprofitable, and we
should rather consider it as a heightening and concentration of the device of
antithetical speeches which he uses elsewhere.
On one side stand the Melians, in the tragic position of small neutrals wishing
to live at peace: on the other Athenian imperialism, refusing to tolerate such a
position outside her dominion. It is to power alone that Athenian arguments
appeal: as their first step they brutally thrust aside any appeal to right or honour.
The Melians then have no alternative but to discuss the situation with purely
rational arguments, and arguing on this level they are bound to fail. They urge
that the hypertrophy of power must necessarily raise up opposing power on
which it will shipwreck; they speak of the possibility of Spartan support. None
of this will save them: what it does is to underline the problems of Athenian
power-politics. Athens had now long cast aside the wise limitations of Periclean
grand strategy; she knew now only the passion for ever-new acquisitions. The
book ends with the frightful yet unemotional account of the punishment in-
flicted by the Athenians on the defeated island. The men, so far as they could
be taken, were put to death, the women and children enslaved. The modern
book-division obscures the immediate transition to the description of Athenian
preparations during the same winter for the greatest exercise of their might —
the Sicilian expedition. Thus, without any personal intervention of the writer,
the link becomes visible which connects seemingly separate events within the
framework of laws rooted deep in human life.
! G, DEININGER, Der Melierdialog. Diss. Erlangen 1939. H. HERTER, ‘Pylos und Melos’
(v. inf.), 317, n. 4-7 with full bibliography.
465
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Thucydides is obviously concerned to present the Melian dialogue not merely

as actual historical transaction but as a study in the physiology and pathology of
power — indeed the whole work might be so described — and appropriately he
leaves the speakers on each side anonymous. The theory that there had been a
previous connection between Melos and the Athenian league, and that Thucy-
dides deliberately suppresses it, cannot be sustained. !
The customary division into books is not original, as we have seen, but it is
by no means clumsy. Particularly the beginning of the sixth and the end of the
seventh book are well chosen boundaries between which the absorbing and
almost separate drama of the Sicilian expedition is played out. This part of the
history is given an introduction worthy of its importance. At his first touching
upon the topic Thucydides points out (6. 1) that most Athenians had no notion
of the size of Sicily or the density of its population. Five chapters later he briefly
concludes: ‘so many were the peoples, and so great the extent of Sicily’, and
framed in between comes an account of the settlement of Sicily, in which he
acquaints us with the cities and tribes and draws a lively picture of the latest
goal of Athenian ambition.
With the eighth chapter we enter on the seventeenth year of the war, which
together with part of the summer campaigns of the eighteenth fills up the sixth
book. This time it is Egesta’s call for help against the threatening alliance of
Selinus and Syracuse, that affords the excuse for Athenian intervention. The
pan-Sicilian truce engineered by Hermocrates had been of short duration. Here
again Thucydides distinguishes between the pretended and the real motive. In
6. 6 he repeats a phrase which he had used in 1. 23 (aAn8eordrn zpodaats): the
true purpose of the Athenians was to make themselves masters of all Sicily.
The importance of the undertaking and the vastness of its effects is matched
by the elaboration of Thucydides’ account, as shown both in its length and in
the number of speeches inserted. The Athenians have decided (6. 8) on the
dispatch of sixty ships. A few days later Nicias attempts, in the course of a
debate ostensibly on the requirements of the task force, to reverse the whole
decision. There follows a great scene of debate between him and Alcibiades
(6. 9-25), which Thucydides characteristically uses not only to present the case
for and against the invasion of Sicily, but to draw a striking picture of the two
men who would have vital roles to play in what was to come. Alcibiades has
indeed been on the stage before (5. 43), but there only a brief characterization
is given of his position and his motives. Here, (6. 15), before his long speech,
Thucydides shows the conflicting elements in his nature — his imposing presence,
his brilliant flair for strategy, his passionate desire for recognition and his ruth-
less selfishness. The same scene presents with unmistakable clarity the tragedy
of Nicias, on whom Thucydides’ last words (7. 86) bestow profound sympathy
and understanding. In the first of the three speeches he is warning the Athenians
' M. TREU, ‘Athen und Melos und der Melierdialog des Thuk.’. Historia 2, 1954, 253
(further note 3, 1953, 58). On the other side: w. EBERHARDT, ‘Der Melierdialog und die
Inschriften ATL A 9 (IG P 63) und IG FP? 97. Betrachtungen zur historischen Glaubwiirdigkeit
des Thuk.’ Historia 8, 1959, 284.
466
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
at the eleventh hour against the adventure; but all his moderating counsels are
brushed aside by the counter-arguments of Alcibiades. He then speaks again: if
the expedition is to take place, he demands the most extraordinary strength in
men and ships and material. He still hopes by the magnitude of the expense to
deter the Athenians from the project; he fails again, and thus it is he who has so
largely contributed to the massive scale of the expedition.
After a description of the mutilation of the Hermae and the sailing of the
fleet Thucydides returns to the Sicilian scene (32). Here he lets us witness a
prelude to the battle which is obviously designed as a counterpart to the conflict
in the ecclesia. Here again a clash of orators (33-41) reveals the dangers at the
heart of the state; again there are three speeches (here allotted to three different
speakers). First Hermocrates, the guiding spirit of Sicilian resistance, emphasizes
the gravity of the situation and makes concrete proposals, which are opposed
by the demagogue Athenagoras, to whom all this is simply a welcome oppor-
tunity to fan the fires of internal conflict and to declaim in favour of his extreme
democratic programme. The debate is ended by a field commander who
recalls the assembly to the claims of reason and necessity.
In the midst of the first operations of the Athenians, which begin under
unhappy auspices, comes the recall of Alcibiades. He is summoned to defend
himself on a charge of impiety, but escapes from the state galley and goes to
Sparta. The extreme concern which the Athenians displayed to find those
responsible for the mutilation of the Hermae and the betrayal of the mysteries
is to be explained by their perpetual fear of a tyranny. Reference to this fear
allows Thucydides to bring in his excursus on the Pisistratids (6. 54-59), in
which he gives the true version of the celebrated tyrannicide. He had mentioned
earlier (1. 20) that Hipparchus was never tyrant, as an example of a mistaken
Athenian tradition in their own history. Here he tells in more detail of the
erotic intrigue that lay behind the deed of Harmodius and Aristogiton, and tries
to evaluate more justly the services of the tyrants to Athens. The fact that he
twice corrects the mistaken view of Hipparchus cannot be seized upon for
analytical purposes, since the contexts in which they occur are so widely
different.
It will already be apparent that the narrative of the Sicilian expedition is
particularly rich in speeches. This is as true of the preliminaries as of the opening
moves. At the first action against Syracuse we have a speech of Nicias to his
troops (68), while a speech of Hermocrates on the necessary countermeasures
is reported indirectly (72). A little later comes a lengthy interchange of speeches
(76-87) in connection with the attempts of the Syracusans and the Athenians to
enlist the support of the city of Camarina, which was standing neutral. Again
it is Hermocrates who animates Sicilian resistance: on the Athenian side
Euphemus stands for the same brand of power politics as we saw in the Melian
dialogue.
During the rest of this year we hear of attempts on both sides to gain new
1 SCHADEWALDT (v. inf.), 84. DEICHGRABER (v. inf.), 32. 144 with bibliog. H.-J. DIESNER,
‘Peisistratidenexkurs und Peisistratenbild bei Thuk.’. Historia 8, 1959, 12.
467
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

allies. The decisive event, however, is the arrival of Alcibiades in Sparta. The
Spartans still hesitate to join in, but he soon dispels their doubts. The decisive
importance of his desertion comes out clearly in his long speech in c. 89-92. He
urges the prompt dispatch of troops under a capable Spartan leader. This
leader is to be Gylippus, with whose arrival in Sicily the hour will have struck
for the Athenian forces, as book 7 will relate. It is Alcibiades also who advises
the investment of Decelea to the north of Athens — another deadly blow to
Athenian power, as the same book will show in a separate narrative (27 sqq.).
With the end of the sixth book we are in the eighteenth year of the war,
which ends in 7. 18. Thus relatively little space has been allotted to this year — a
decision reflecting the author’s wisdom in the management of his material. The
previous year, with the fitting-out and the first attack of the great fleet, was
related in detail, with many speeches to let us understand the men, the circum-
stances and the realities of power. A similar breadth of treatment (although more
sparing in speeches) is accorded to the nineteenth — the year of disaster. The
eighteenth, on the contrary, standing between lofty expectations and un-
redeemed calamity, and not containing the decisive action, receives less space
and less attention. In the middle of it comes the siege of Syracuse, which
promises well after the seizure of the heights of Epipolae. But then the
intervention of Gylippus alters the situation in a way which compels Nicias
to send to Athens for reinforcements. The reading of his letter in the ecclesia
(7. 11-15), serves the same purpose as a speech; and this year, as we saw, is treated
in a way that omits speeches.
The seventh book, which Macaulay valued above any other prose writing
he knew, relates the greater part of the events of the nineteenth year. That year
is not, however, completed until the sixth chapter of the eighth book. The
narrative begins ominously with the occupation of Decelea by the Pelopon-
nesians, so that Athens loses her close contact with Euboea and her most impor-
tant supply-line (19). Thucydides takes care afterwards that we do not lose sight
of the difficulties under which this coup placed Athens. On the Syracusan front,
where the Athenians are still masters of the sea, but have lost Cape Plemmyrium
to Gylippus (22 sqq.), both sides try for reinforcements. Nicias receives them
under Demosthenes, but the latter has not been able to bring with him 1300
mercenaries, who had arrived in Athens too late. Through shortage of money
the Athenians have to send them home: this occasions a more detailed account
of the military and economic difficulties under which Athens laboured after
the seizure of Decelea (27 sqq.).! The attack of the returning Thracians on
Mycalessus, and the massacre in which not even school-children were spared,
give a frightful illustration of what was possible in this war (29). Having thus
ensured that we do not lose sight of Attica as the second focal point of this
phase of the war, Thucydides is able now to lay the main weight of his narrative
once more on Sicily. The increasing naval strength of the Syracusans is en-
dangering the position of the Athenian fleet, but still, in a manner reminiscent
of Attic tragedy, before the catastrophe there are high hopes of a successful
' H. ERBSE (v. inf.), 38.
468
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
outcome. Demosthenes has sailed into the harbour of Syracuse with reinforce-
ments (42); the Athenians are once more masters of the situation, but their
decisive stroke intended to retake Epipolae miscarries (43 sqq.). Demosthenes
himself now urges the abandonment of the whole campaign, but Nicias wavers;
and no sooner has he decided on retreat than an eclipse of the moon terrifies the
Athenians and causes them to wait for twenty-seven days. The Syracusans, now
no longer content with self-defence, conceive the ambition of annihilating the
enemy force. They have shown themselves superior even in naval strength, and
they work out a plan for shutting the Athenian fleet up in the Great Harbour
(s6). Here, where the closing stages of this all-important campaign are to be
depicted, Thucydides again reminds us of the magnitude of the conflict: two
chapters (56-7) are given over to a comprehensive survey of the allies on cither
side. Then, by yet another example of his ‘sandwich’ technique he returns from
this inserted section to the actual blocking of the harbour mouth. Next comes
the battle in the harbour, with the unsuccessful attempt of the Athenians to
break out — an action whose decisive importance in the Sicilian drama is under-
lined in two ways. First Thucydides puts a preliminary speech into the mouths
of the opposing generals (Nicias 61-64, Gylippus 66-68); secondly, after the
outcome of the battle he makes a signficant reference to Pylos. What the
Athenians then inflicted on the Spartans in destroying their ships and cutting off
their troops on Sphacteria, they now suffer themselves through the defeat of
their fleet in Sicily.
All that remains is to march overland into friendly territory. Before this, the
last march of the Athenian army, Nicias delivers a speech most skilfully framed
by Thucydides to fit the character of a man so deeply traditional in his outlook.
The whole expedition, he says, may have suffered the disfavour of the gods as
being too great; but their present distresses may have been penance enough, and
it may be hoped that fortune will now turn away from the enemy. But these
reasonable hopes of a pious soul are falsified by events. After a march of frightful
hardship the Athenians are overtaken by Syracusan forces. Losses are terrible:
terrible also is the lot of the prisoners, who are taken to the quarries or otherwise
reduced to slavery. Nicias and Demosthenes are put to death.
As we saw before, the narrative of the nineteenth year extends to the first six
chapters of the eighth book. The last two of these chapters introduce elements
which recur frequently in this book and are of decisive consequence for the
closing stages of the war: the Persian satraps Tissaphernes and Pharnabazus take
a hand in the game. The account of the twentieth year of the war (7-60) tells of
three separate treaties between Spartans and Persians — Tissaphernes representing
the latter — and gives the text of the documents verbally. Before the conclusion
of the third treaty the Athenians also had sent an embassy to the Persian satrap.
In this year Thucydides is mostly concerned with relating a series of small
actions — largely the defection of Athenian allies in the islands and Asia Minor
and attempts to recover them. The Spartans with their allies come more and
more into prominence as a naval power to be reckoned with. Towards the end
of this year developments occur which will come to fruition in the next. In the
2 469
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

fleet before Samos oligarchical elements are working for the overthrow of the
democracy in Athens, while Alcibiades, hoping thus to secure his return, is
intriguing with Tissaphernes towards the same end.
The events of the 21st year impart a lively pace to the chapters (61-109) which
deal with them. Athenian domestic politics necessarily take up a good deal of
space. In the early summer of 411 the democracy was overthrown by an
oligarchic putsch that placed all responsibility in the hands of a council of four
hundred. A leading spirit in this movement was the orator Antiphon, of whom
Thucydides writes a warm appreciation (68). But on the other hand he does not
try to gloss over the reign of terror under this régime. Lack of support from the
fleet at Samos compels a return to a more moderate constitution, based on the
five thousand citizens who are capable of paying for their own military equip-
ment. Thucydides highly praises (97) the moderation of this régime.
The defection of allies, particularly critical at Byzantium (80) and Euboea
(95), assumes greater proportions, as docs the dubious role played by Tissa-
phernes behind the scenes. But towards the end of the book and consequently
of the whole work the entry of Alcibiades brings about a favourable turn for
the Athenians. He is joyously received by army and fleet at Samos and chosen
as commander. The Athenian naval victory at Cynossema and the recovery of
Cyzicus introduces a new phase of the war. We hear of renewed activity on
Tissaphernes’ part; then the work ends, or, more accurately, it breaks off.
A question posed by the fifth book comes up again with the eighth. Direct
speeches, which we have still to examine as one of Thucydides’ particular
devices in historical narrative, are lacking here as they were in the fifth - drawing
our line, of course, before the Melian dialogue. We have to add another observa-
tion — that in both books we find documents quoted verbally; a species of his-
torical raw material which admittedly recurs in the report of the one year’s
truce in 4. 118. Again, in books 5 and 8 the main lines of development seem to
have been neglected in favour of unconnected incidents. From these facts the
conclusion has often been drawn that Thucydides never put the finishing
touches to these sections. The phenomena may, of course, be explained other-
wise: we may point to the fragmentation of events themselves in the relevant
years; we may explain the insertion of documents by a desire for particular
exactness; but the most natural conclusion is that these parts were never brought
by the author to a finished state.
The question which we have just broached leads us into a complex of prob-
lems which until recently almost exclusively occupied the attention of German
researchers into Thucydides - so exclusively that one can speak of a Thucydidean
question in much the same way as a Homeric question. The methods in both
cases are the same. We must admit that in Thucydides “stratum-analysis’ finds
quite a good deal to work on. He tells us in the first sentence that he began to
write the story of the war from the moment of its outbreak, perceiving how
important it would be. But since various passages prove conclusively that he
was working on the history after 404, it must have come into existence over a
long period.
470
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Research into this question was begun and for more than a century dominated
by Franz Wolfgang Ullrich, professor at the Hamburg Johanneum, with his
Beitrage zur Erkldrung des Thukydides (1, 1845; 2, 1846). He started with two
observations. The early books contain no statement of the duration of the war
as a whole, and references to it (63e 6 76Aej10s etc.) are so vague that we cannot
infer a knowledge of the whole course of the conflict in all its various stages.
Ullrich also laid particular weight on the so-called ‘second introduction’ (5. 26),
which displays a knowledge of the war up to its conclusion and must therefore
have been written after 404. These basic facts were supported by Ullrich with a
number of smaller indications which led him to distinguish two main periods
of composition. One lay in books 1-4, embraced only the first ten years, and
was supposed to have been completed shortly after the Peace of Nicias. The
other would have to be dated after the fall of Athens in 404, and would have
been written with the whole course of the war in view. In addition to the books
from the middle of 4 to the end of 8, Ullrich would ascribe to this phase of
composition various references to the later parts of the war which he was
compelled to recognize in the earlier books. Thus a hypothesis of later additions
must be invoked to preserve the theory from overthrow.
For some time a new turn was given to this branch of study by Eduard
Schwarz.! He attempted to refine the analysis still further, and as the Homeric
analysts had done, he sought to prove contradictions and the existence of two
versions in some places side by side. Thus the shade of the redactor, which had
haunted the Homeric poems, was now invoked in Thucydides to explain incon-
sistencies. The stratification thus obtained was interpreted by Schwarz as corre-
sponding to Thucydides’ intellectual development. Others, like Schadewaldt,
have pursued this path even further, so that it seems possible to distinguish a
youthful Thucydides devoted to factual research from an elder Thucydides who
wanted to understand history and to communicate his understanding to others.
In the most recent phase of Thucydidean research the separation into strata,
arrived at with such self-confidence, has been examined to see whether it is
really tenable. The position has been made clear best of all by Harald Patzer’s
careful evaluation of the arguments. As an appendix he prints a list of all the
‘early’ and ‘late’ indications, which affords us a rapid conspectus of the facts.
Convincing indications of lateness are fairly frequent and are distributed
throughout the work. ‘Early’ indications, on the other hand, so far as they can
be taken seriously, are very rare, and Patzer shows that they have very unequal
value as testimony.
Once again we must draw a parallel with Homeric studies. In both cases, after
many indirections, research has enabled us to understand the form of literary
works not just in the light of minute analysis by scholars, but in their own right
as works of great creative power. Such a unitarian view as that represented by
John H, Finley? fails to see what preceded the final form. In our chapter on
Homer we strove to show the multitude of the hypotheses which throw light
t Das Geschichtswerk des Thuk. Bonn 1919; 2nd ed. 1929.
2 V. inf. and ‘The Unity of Thucydides’ History’. Harv. Stud. Suppl. vol. 1, 1940, 225.
471
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

upon the form of the Iliad and Odyssey; and in assessing Thucydides we cannot
close our eyes to his own declaration assigning several decades to the composi-
tion of the work. What we read today is not a mass of additions and insertions
piled on top of a series of rough sketches widely differing in date and intellectual
attitude, but a work of basic unity, conceived and executed on well defined
principles. It certainly contains many passages of which the content or execution
is a survival from an earlier period of the author’s literary activity. That the
work was never finished is shown by the ending and by the state of books 5 and
8, as we have interpreted them; but he was able to carry it far enough to be
aiming at a unity which cannot justify our lightly dividing it up into ever
smaller pieces. Thus in Thucydidean studies today we see a healthy attitude of
restraint, not condemning the whole proceedings of the analyst, but regarding
his results with a much greater scepticism and rejecting the headstrong theorizing
of earlier years.
One pleasing result of this development is that in recent years increased
attention has been given to the inner qualities of the work. When wishing to
characterize the man in relation to his times, scholars have long been content
to contrast him with Herodotus. This the author has himself invited by correct-
ing Herodotus in several places! — admittedly without mentioning him by name
—and by taking up arms against him in the chapter on historical method. One
constantly finds Thucydides, as the inventor of political history, as the impeccable
researcher and unswerving seeker after truth, contrasted with Herodotus as the
representative of the Ionic love of a good story, as the uncritical accepter of
unreliable traditions of every kind. There is a good deal of truth in this view,
but the deep-rooted difference between the characters of the two historians
cannot adequately be assessed along these lines. More truly we can speak of a
difference in the degree to which certain definite principles are carried into
practice. Herodotus also was well aware of the varying value of his sources, and
if he does not always take the utmost pains to decide between them, he does
repeatedly allude to their untrustworthiness; Herodotus also makes use of
monuments and inscriptions for the purposes of history, and shows that he is at
least no stranger to the use of documentary material. The difference admittedly
is very considerable, and we should not try to minimize it. In Thucydides
pleasure in narration for its own sake is rigorously excluded, and everything is
subordinated to the one end of communicating what in fact happened. The
techniques of historical method are here developed and applied to a quite
different degree. Certainly Thucydides is writing contemporary history and
has more detailed and reliable sources available than Herodotus had for the
Persian War; but even in those parts where he deals with events long past he
puts each foot on the hardest ground he can find. A typical example of Thucy-
dides’ methods of work is his excursus on the Pisistratids (6. 54-59), where he is
concerned to prove that Hippias, not Hipparchus, was tyrant. He makes use of
the dedicatory inscription of the Altar of the Twelve Gods, erected by the
younger Pisistratus, grandson of the tyrant, in the Athenian Agora, together
' SCHMID, 2. 663. 7.

472
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
with an almost illegible dedication from Delphi and the stele that stood on the
Acropolis to commemorate the expulsion of the tyrants. It is most instructive
to see how he goes to work with this last piece of evidence. It affords him no
direct support for his thesis, but the fact that the inscription mentions only the
children of Hippias, not those of the other sons of Pisistratus, together with the
order in which the names are given, confirms for him that Hippias was the
eldest son of Pisistratus and therefore heir to the tyrannis. Thucydides is here
working with the same conception of convincing probability (etealew) on
which he remarked earlier in connection with the methods invented by the
sophists for carrying conviction in courts of law. He has resource to such
methods most of all when he tries to throw light on very early periods. Conse-
quently the ‘archaeologia’ is the greatest field for employing this kind of
argument, and we cannot fail to see the satisfaction with which Thucydides
brought it to bear in this early stage of his work. The satisfaction is justified: the
conclusion for example from the nature of early Delian graves and their furniture
that the population of the island was originally Carian corresponds entirely to
the methods of modern investigation.
We must stress again the decisive importance in Thucydides’ historical
writing of his unqualified determination to achieve objectivity. In this respect
he goes far beyond Herodotus. But if we wish to see what basically distinguishes
his work from that of his predecessor, we must go another way about it.
Thucydides speaks of his purpose and his means of achieving it in chapters 1,
20-22. The last of these, the so-called ‘chapter on method’,' has received the
most intense investigation in recent years, and too much has often been built on
single words. But all the important results have been well established. What we
find is first a manifesto of historical research made as accurate as can be. On this
theme the writer has to show the untrustworthiness of oral tradition. Even
events in the history of one’s own country can be perverted by such a tradition,
as he shows by reference to the supposed tyranny of Hipparchus and its over-
throw by Harmodius and Aristogiton. It is to this question, as a particularly
good example of his research methods, that he returns in greater detail in the
excursus of the sixth book. Thucydides gives two further examples, this time
from Sparta, to show the untrustworthiness of popular beliefs on matters of
one’s own day and therefore susceptible of verification, namely the supposed
voting right of the kings, signified with two stones, and the imaginary lochos of
Pitane. Both these things are mentioned in passing by Herodotus, and Thucy-
dides’ concern to be thought of differently from his predecessor becomes
apparent. In the next chapter he contrasts his own careful work with those of
the poets and of the logographers, two groups against whom he directs a
powerful polemic — not wholly unjustified, but tending to over-simplification
when he labels both as men who try to appeal to their readers by ornament and
exaggeration. It goes without saying that the main targets of this attack are
Homer and Herodotus.
t Bibliog. in H. HERTER, ‘Zur ersten Periklesrede’ (v. inf.), 613, 1. Cf. also H. ERBSE (v-
inf.), 55-
473
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The end of the 21st chapter provides one of those smooth transitions which
we have often observed in Thucydides. The war that is to be his theme has
been shown by the most exact researches into the past to be the greatest that
Greece ever waged. An equal exactness will mark the principles that he follows
in narration. The chapter on method (22) divides the subject in a manner
immemorially current among the Greeks. In the Iliad (9. 443) Phoenix sums up
the two ends of aristocratic education, which form in fact a unity: mastery of
words and readiness for deeds. Thucydides here follows the same division in
setting out the programme ofhis work. He deals with words first. Some speeches
he heard himself (among the class thus attested we may well reckon those of
Pericles), others at secondhand. Both for him and for his informants it was hard
to piece together from memory the exact form of what was said (7Hv axpiBevav
adbriy TOV AexOévtwv). With most modern students we take this as referring both
to the wording and to the sequence of thought. After thus pointing out what
he was unable to do and what the nature of his work rendered impossible even
as an ideal, he explains his principles in the composition of speeches. He con-
structs them according to the needs of each situation (7epi T@v del wapdvTwv Ta
déovra), as he thinks they must have determined what the speaker said. Having
admitted these freedoms, he adds an important reservation: the general sense
(Evprraca yvan) of what was actually said (which in most instances was still
accessible) is as far as possible preserved. We are not told here anything about
the purpose of the insertion of speeches: that is a question which we must
discuss later in a wider context.
In reporting actions, however, accuracy was the goal — accuracy unqualified
and frequently attainable. With an obvious allusion to Herodotus Thucydides
says that he was not satisfied with asking the first comer: a careful scrutiny of
testimony was necessary, since even among eye-witnesses, through forgetful-
ness or partiality, reports varied widely.
Thucydides himself is well aware that the severity of his ideals will make it
impossible for his work to be widely attractive. In considering its effect on the
hearer he must have Herodotus in mind, who is known to have given public
readings from his histories. If he cannot hope for success of this sort, Thucydides
has his consolation: the people for whom he writes are of a different kind. He
addresses himself to those who wish to obtain clear insight into what happened
in the past and, by a basic uniformity in human nature, will happen again in the
future in more or less the same way. He will be satisfied if his work is of use to
men of such serious purpose, since it was not written as a show-piece for an
occasion, but as a possession for all time (Kriua és dei). Here we are at the
intellectual core of Thucydides’ work, and at the point where the true difference
between him and Herodotus begins to appear.
Behind the painstaking narrator of actual events we now see the writer of
history, striving to impart political understanding that shall be of permanent
value. The brief sentences in which Thucydides outlines this last purpose of his
writing should not be taken as a simple application of the tag historia vitae
magistra. Thucydides was concerned neither with imparting to his readers skill
474
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
in political prognosis nor with giving them a book of rules which would enable
them to take decisions in concrete instances. Rather, as he worked on his
history, he gained an insight into certain patterns and forces which the trained
eye will always recognize behind the endless and bewildering variety of actual
events. Such a knowledge brings with it the clarification of pictures otherwise
confused, and even if the particular situation is one scarcely likely to recur, the
trained mind can see in it forces which belong to the realm of the timeless. One
who possesses such knowledge has not of course been given hard and fast
instruction in political behaviour, but he has gained the ability in any future
case to throw light on a situation, to understand the basic laws of the interplay
of forces, and use this knowledge and foresight in reaching his decisions. It is an
example of Thucydides’ historical purpose that, in describing so carefully the
symptoms of the plague (2. 48), he says that his purpose is to save men from
being wholly taken unawares if it should ever break out again.
The desire of Thucydides’ to go beyond individual phenomena to something
universally valid is characteristic of Greek thought in general. But undoubtedly
it introduces an antinomy underlying his whole programme. To the researcher
who is straining every nerve to achieve the maximum accuracy in narrating
individual events, these events are not the true and ultimate goal: what he seeks
is the universal that can be extracted from them. This antinomy cannot be
resolved by assigning its elements to different periods of Thucydides’ intellectual
development: it is deeply rooted in his work and thought.
We shall try to attain a better understanding of the history with the help of
two questions. By what methods does Thucydides undertake to impart to his
readers the insight of which he speaks in c. 22, and in what sphere does he hope
to find the universal and permanent which are to give the trained mind a deeper
understanding of the concrete instance?
We must make a negative observation first. With very few exceptions
Thucydides does not make personal appearances in his work to judge or to
explain. The very fact that we hear his voice so seldom imparts to the whole
that air of cool objectivity which has constantly been singled out as its especial
characteristic. If he does ever speak in his own person, it is to say something of
particular importance: the main lines of his methods and ideals (1. 22), his
judgment on Pericles as man and statesman (2. 65) and his experience of the
frightful upheaval of civil society occasioned by war (3. 83 sqq.). He is a little
less reserved in the 8th book, where in 24 he praises the constitution of Chios,
in 97 the moderate oligarchy established in Athens, and near the end of 96
discusses the various activities of Athenians, Spartans and Syracusans. It is very
seldom that he expresses any personal view on events or individuals: exceptions
are on Cleon (3. 36; 5. 16) and on the tragedy of Mycalessus (7. 30). His sympa-
thetic verdict on Nicias (7. 86) will engage our attention again when we discuss
his attitude towards religion.
These are all exceptions. Thucydides does not lecture, he narrates. But his
narrative is not content to chronicle the particular facts: it probes deeply,
detects connections, and in all the crucial situations of the long struggle gives us
475
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

analyses in which all the presuppositions are clearly brought out, the possibilities
are defined, and the men in charge of affairs, with all their thoughts and motives,
are set before our eyes. It is by these analyses that the reader gains insight into
the enduring behind the transient, the recurrent tendency behind the individual
happening. On these elucidations of historical crises Thucydides has lavished a
care which justifies the proud words in which he calls his work a possession for
all time. In analysing situations his favourite device is the speech. In the passage
already quoted he says that he was governed in their composition by the needs
of the current situation — a sufficient indication of the role they have to play.
There are over forty speeches in the whole work, of which about two-thirds
occur in the first four books. A contributing factor here may be that some of the
later sections never achieved their final form, but this is not a complete explana-
tion. The especial frequency of analytical and interpretative speeches in the first
half of the work arises from the purpose of these books, which is to bring out
clearly the underlying causes of the war, the character and temper of the antagon-
ists, and the possibilities which in the early stages were so wide and numerous.
This function of displaying the causes of events and the motives of the actors,
thus enabling us to see through the purely factual to the real basis of things, is
nowhere more clearly seen than in those places where opposing views are
expressed in antithetical pairs of speeches. It is here, if anywhere, that we see
the sophistic elements underlying Thucydides’ work. It was from the sophists
that he discovered the world of antinomies behind human action and passion,
and learnt that opposite views may be expressed of any conceivable questions.
Protagoras developed this line of thought in his Antilogiae, and the same word
significantly appears immediately before the dispute between the Corcyraeans
and the Corinthians in the Athenian assembly (1. 31). Nowhere, however, has
Thucydides developed his technique of opposed speeches more elaborately than
in that part of the first book which immediately precedes the Spartan declaration
of war; and analysis has nowhere more signally miscarried than in wishing to
separate these two pairs of speeches. In fact one speech complements the other,
even where it attacks the opponent’s views. By this means we are given a
picture of the forces which inevitably led to this war and of the two great
opponents Athens and Sparta, whose difference in character determined the
course of events. Above all, these speeches contribute much to the depiction of
Athenian national character with the dangers and the potentialities inherent in
it. When the Corinthians (1. 70), with an almost clinical accuracy, describe the
perpetual unrest of Athens, her dissatisfaction with all she had achieved, her
inability either to be at peace herself or to suffer others to be so, a tragic element
comes into the picture, and one thinks of the first stasimon of the Antigone, in
which Sophocles sings of the fatal unrest of the human soul.
It has been justly remarked that in this tetrad of speeches that of king Archi-
damus, with its description of the Spartan character, is in some parts modelled
as a counterpart to the funeral speech of Pericles. There are other examples of
a like nature, in which correspondences may be detected between speeches
delivered at widely varying times and places.
476
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Towards the parties whom he thus Opposes one to another Thucydides
preserves an objectivity that can scarcely be rivalled in historical literature. Here
he differs sharply from the sophists. He is not striving to give victory to one
point of view, he is not supporting a parti pris through thick and thin: he gives
us all the arguments for and against with such fullness that we have a wellnigh
complete picture of the interplay of forces. A treatment of the situations from
both sides is visible throughout: in summarizing the history we have already
mentioned as exceptional those places where Thucydides puts a speech without
any rejoinder, thus recognizing the cogency of its arguments. Pericles has no
opponent, nor has Hermocrates when he calls for unity at the congress of Sicilian
states (4. 59). Practically all the speeches are governed by the purpose of extract-
ing from individual circumstances the basic and general elements.
The chapter on method lets us know how far we may speak of truth to
history in the speeches. Certainly there are differences between those which
Thucydides composed to embody his own appraisal of the situation and those
which he either heard himself or received from reliable informants.t Very
probably Thucydides personally listened to Pericles, and we may confidently
assume a close correspondence between the stateman’s political ideals and those
which his generous admirer puts into his mouth in the history.”
In the multiplicity of political actions Thucydides seeks to find elements which
regularly recur. In what sphere does he hope to find them? Here he treads a
different path from that of Herodotus. Although the latter was a contemporary
of the sophists, yet his world-view, as we saw when discussing him, is essentially
presophistic, supposes a divine government, and thus is closely akin to the pre-
conceptions of Attic tragedy. In Herodotus the gods of the old religion no
longer take a personal share in the action, but nowhere does he show the
slightest doubt that the destinies of men, while their free will has abundant
opportunity to exercise itself, are ultimately determined in another world than
ours. Expressions such as ‘since it was ordained that he should come to grief’
are an explicit avowal of a belief in a supernatural guidance of events.3 Conse-
quently ideas such as the displeasure of the gods, the preserving of a healthy
moderation, the circle of good fortune and calamity assume a decisive impor-
tance. The ever-recurring figure of the warning friend is a special embodiment
of this kind of belief.
Thucydides is wholly different. In his picture of history there are no meta-
physical factors to account for events. In consequence his own views on religion
can only be guessed at. In the Melian dialogue the Athenians make an allusion
to the notion of deity with the greatest reserve, as a pure supposition — a view
agreeing with that set out by Protagoras in the beginning of his treatise on the
gods. We may well suspect that Thucydides’ own views lay in that direction.

« On this question see K. ROHRER, ‘Ueber die Authentizitaét der Reden bei Thuk.’.
Wien. Stud. 72, 1959, 36. : Ps .
2 Vv. EHRENBERG, Sophocles and Pericles. Oxf. 1954, 41. J. T. KAKRIDIS, Der thuk. Epitaphios.
Zet. 26, 1961, 112 is more reserved; see also M. H. CHAMBERS, “Thucydides and Pericles’.
Harv. Stud. 62, 1957, 79- 3 V. sup. p. 323.
477
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

According to Antyllus in Marcellinus’ life he was a pupil of Anaxagoras and

dOeos pea. Yet he is no polemist against traditional belief. In the career of
Nicias, a devout representative of the old creed, there was much to be related
which would afford material for such attacks. We find in Thucydides nothing
of the sort: indeed he shows an unusual warmth of feeling in an appreciation of
his moral character (7. 86). The few other passages in which religious fraternities
are mentioned (2. 53; 3. 82) give little reason to suppose that Thucydides
belonged to one. The decisive fact is that in all the events that he relates he
studiously avoids any metaphysical interpretation. He draws no sharp distinction
between myth and history: the Trojan war, Hellen and his sons, Pandion, Itys,
Procne and the like are treated as historical.!
Thucydides has himself indicated in what sphere within history he sees the
roots of the recurrent, the regular and the largely calculable. In the chapter on
method (r. 22) he speaks of human nature (76 dv@pebmwor) as the constant factor
giving rise to similarities.» This same factor is mentioned repeatedly in other
places, always the most highly wrought passages in the book. The Spartan king
Archidamus is made to say in his great speech (r. 84) that it is wrong to suppose
great differences among human beings, and in the study of party spirit (3. 82)
he speaks of the deadly effects of domestic tension, which will recur as long as
human nature remains the same. This basically unchanging nature displays
itself for Thucydides above all in the struggle for power and personal advantage,
in which the laws are resented as a hindrance.* This view again reminds us of the
teaching of the sophists, which represented the right of the stronger as being
the only genuine natural right; but again the difference is more important than
the agreement. While the more extreme sophists spoke grandiloquently in
favour of the right of the stronger, Thucydides refrains from all moral judgment,
and makes his observations as dispassionately as the physician at a bedside or the
scientist in a laboratory. The simile is not wholly fanciful. It has long since been
observed* that correspondences, sometimes even verbal, have been found
between Thucydides’ ways of thought and those of contemporary natural
science, especially medicine. We should probably think of this rather as the
convergence of separate lines of development than as borrowing on Thucydides’
part. It is anew manner of investigation, one which looks beyond the surface of
phenomena for their underlying causes. The words of Anaxagoras (VS 59 B21 ae
‘that which appears is an earnest of what does not’, may well be applied to the
work of Thucydides.
We find in him that double motivation of actions, by divine contrivance and
by human will, which can be traced through Homer into the classical period;
but one half of it has been secularized. Nevertheless the confrontation of human
1 Cf. such passages as 1. 3; 2. 15 and 29; 6. 2 and F. HAMpPt, Serta Philol. Aenipontana.
Innsbruck 1961, 42, $.
Zep PEARSON, Gnom. 32, 1960, 15, totally mistakes the sense in rendering xara 76
avOpa—
mov as ‘in all human probability’.
3 1. 76; 3. 45 and 84; 5. 105. Cf. TOprtscH (vy. inf.).
* Most recently by K. werpaugR, Thuk. und die hippokratischen Schriften. Heidelb. 1954.
Cf. H. DILLER, Gnom. 27, 1955, 9.
478
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

intelligence and courage with factors which cheat them of their ends is still part
of the substructure. The human agent in Thucydides is by preference the states-
man;' next to him the general. The function of the man at the top is intelligent
planning, which alone can reach the desired goal, so far as human foresight can
go. All the important characters in Thucydides are shown as planners and
calculators, shrewdly assessing the future. The more effectively his intellect
(yv@n) formulates the situation and estimates the play of forces, the better are
the prospects of success. A statesman of this kind must bring with him a deep
understanding of those factors which he must accept as data, without hoping to
alter them. By this Thucydides means the features of uniformity found in our
common human nature, showing themselves, above all where power is con-
cerned, in perpetual striving and unrest. The leader must also make every
allowance for the particular characteristics of the society which he heads, as
well as for those of the opponent. While Thucydides is convinced of the uni-
formity and homogeneity of human nature within certain limits, there is still
room left for differences such as those so skilfully indicated between Spartans
and Athenians.
Pericles is the archetype of the statesman in this developed sense. His grand
strategy was so well adapted to all contingencies that only its faulty execution
by his incompetent successors deprived Athens of victory. To produce such a
statesman both talent and training are needed. From what he says, Thucydides
seems to hope that his work may contribute to such an end. While the proposi-
tion that statesmanship can be taught must not be taken in too gross and palpable
a sense, we may see in such hopes something of the sophistic spirit. The un-
tutored genius, as Themistocles is portrayed (1. 138), is on this view a surprising
exception.
When the responsible statesman has taken into account all the factors accessible
to his intelligence, there still remains a realm from which his plans may suffer
hindrance or total frustration. This incalculable element is called Tyche. By this
word Thucydides does not mean some divine power: he does not make the
irrational into a metaphysical entity. He only means in the simplest terms that
human planning for the future has its limits, outside which is the unforeseen.*
Thucydides knows the meaning of chance, but in his treatment of history he
restricts its sphere of action in favour of rational calculation. In this he was a
child of his time. We may again compare Democritus (VS 68 B 119), who was
radical enough to say that Fortune (rvy7) was a bogey invented by men to
excuse their own stupidity.
Any attempt to examine Thucydides’ beliefs comes up at last against a question
which the objectivity of his narratives and analyses renders extraordinarily
difficult. Large sections of his work might give the impression that he writes
with scientific detachment, studiously avoiding any ethical judgment of the
events described. In other words: is human nature and the struggle for power

1 Cf, H. HERTER (v. inf.).

2 w. MUrRI, ‘Bemerkungen zum Verstandnis des Thuk.’. Mus. Helv. 4, 1947, 251.
H. HERTER, ‘Freiheit etc.’. (v. inf.), 135.
479
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

arising from it as by an inherent law of nature the only measure of all things
that Thucydides possesses? Is the conscious rejection of right, honour and moral
restraint expressed by the Athenians in the Melian debate to be taken as repre-
senting his own views? This type of enquiry has been only recently undertaken;!
but it would appear that behind all Thucydides’ reserve his personal conception
of ethical values is recognizable enough. The intimation is often of the briefest,
as in the tribute to Nicias, that in his life he had been second to none in the
practice of every virtue,’ or when he tells us that the crew of the Athenian
trireme which had to bring the sentence of death to Mytilene (3. 49) made no
haste to discharge their repugnant (a4AAdKoros) duty. More weight attaches to
whole sections, such as the Epitaphios in a positive or the ‘pathology of faction’
in a negative sense: neither makes any sense without reference to some scheme
of moral values. Furthermore, in passages like the speech of Diodotus in Book 3
or the Melian Dialogue in Book 5 we can see a line of argument pointing out
the dangers and uncertainties inherent in the misuse of power. The position still
needs clarification; but Thucydides is far from being a propagandist for the will
to rule: he is no extreme sophist in whose scheme all ethical values have been
eliminated. He wrote what he saw as it presented itself to him. He might well
think with Hesiod that Aidos and Nemesis had long since left the world and
that Dike’s situation in it was precarious; but he gives us no reason to believe
that he was one who applauded their departure.
It is one of the antinomies of Thucydides’ work that behind the cool and easy
detachment that he maintains there is a great spiritual tumult, which finds
corresponding expression in his manner of writing. Certainly there are great
differences in style between different parts. In the purely narrative sections he
uses mostly a plain, everyday chronicler’s style. But in passages of particular
stress, above all in the speeches, all the peculiarities of his ways of thought and
expression come to light. The main lines emerge most clearly from a comparison
with Gorgias. Both incline strongly towards antithesis: a tendency deeply rooted
in the Greek genius, and exemplified in Thucydides often in an artificial and
exaggerated degree. But whereas Gorgias underlines his antithetical structure
by elaborate parallelism of clauses and an obtrusive use of assonance, often
wearying the reader, the historian’s antitheses are so cut up by constant syn-
tactical variation that he never allows us the relaxation of sceing a Gonstruction
move quietly to a foreseeable end. Hence comes that restless waywardness that
often creates the greatest difficulties in understanding his meaning. Parallelism
of thought is constantly in conflict with variation of expression. The general
impression is well expressed by Isocrates, whose verdict Cicero thus renders
(Or. 40): praefractior nec satis, ut ita dicam, rotundus.* When Dionysius of

' TOPITSCH (v. inf.),K. NAWRATIL, AfdA 6, 1953, 61 and 125. K, REINHARDT, ‘Thuc. und
Machiavelli’. Vermdchtnis der Antike. Gottingen 1960, 184.
2 This is the only possible meaning of dpery (7, 86.)
3 Cf. F. MULLER’S study of the Funeral Speech (sup. p. 461, n. 2.).
* The text is rather doubtful. Nonius quoting the passage has Theodectes: Ernesti’s con-
jecture Theodorus has been accepted by most editors.
480
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Halicarnassus, in an elaborate study of Thucydides,' took up arms against the

high esteem and wide influence that he enjoyed in late republican Rome, he
remarked that very few men had read him all through, and even they needed a
commentary in many places. Cicero (Or. 9. 30) describes his speeches as barely
intelligible.
Another feature of Thucydides’ language, closely linked to his individual
ways of thought, is a tendency to abstract expressions. This tendency manifests
itself in the preponderance of nominal elements in his language, including the
constant use of abstract nouns and participles and infinitives used substantivally.
The frequency of gnomic expressions? also plays its part here.
In recent years particular attention has been paid to the type of articulation
used by Thucydides in linking the stages of his arguments. His technique here
is developed from the old type of ring-composition.? The order ‘statement —
proof — statement’ is found repeatedly, as also is a device by which, after an
explanatory digression, he returns to the narrative not at the point where he
left it, but a little later, as if the course of events had moved on during the
interval.

WILAMOWITZ § thesis that work was done on Thucydides at Alexandria has

often been rejected, but USENER thought that remains of Alexandrian exegesis
could be detected, and the most recent study of the problem by o. tuscHNarT,
‘Die Thukydidesscholien’. Phil. 98, 1954, 14, tends to support him. tusCHNAT
gives a survey of ancient exegetical work — scholia, a papyrus with remains of a
commentary on the second book (nr. 1205 P.), another on the archaeologia
(nr. 1204 P.), not forgetting the help afforded by Dionysius of Halicarnassus
(cf. n. 1). There is a good discussion of the problem and the material by
R. STARK in his very useful study “Textgeschichtliche und literarkritische Fol-
gerungen aus neueren Papyri’. Annales Univers. Saraviensis. Phil.-lett. 8, 1959, 40.
We do not know how far Alexandrian work affected the text of Thucydides,
but the transmission gives a fairly favourable impression. This is confirmed by
the papyri, which are not plentiful, but which give us a text anterior to the
present grouping of the manuscripts: nr. 1176-1203 P.; J. E. POWELL, “The
Papyri and the text of Thucydides’. Actes V* congr. int. de pap. Brussels 1938,
344. E. G. TURNER, ‘Two unrecognised Ptolemaic Papyri’. Journ. Hell. Stud. 76,
1956, 95. V. BARTOLETTI, ‘Tucidide 2. 73, 1-74, 1 in un papiro dell’ Universita
statale di Milano’. Studi in onore di L. Castiglione. Florence 1961, 61. For a
survey of the MSS.: A. DAIN, ‘Liste des manuscrits de Thuc.’. Rev. Et. Gr. 46,
1933, 20; supplemented by J. 2. PowELL, ‘The archetype of Thc... Glass.

1 [epi Oovk., Hepi trav @ovr. Buwpdrwv. See also his second book Mepi pywijoews and the
treatise ad Pompeium. 2 C. MEISTER (v. inf.).
3 N. G. L. HAMMOND, ‘The Arrangement of Thought in the Proem and in other Parts
of Thucydides’. Class. Quart. 46, 1952, 127. H. ERBSE (v. inf.). R. KATIEIC, ‘Die Ringkompo-
sition im 1. Buch des Thuk. Geschichtswerkes’. Wien. Stud. 70, 1957, 179.
481
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Quart. 30, 1936, 86. On the affiliation: v. BARTOLETTI, Per la storia del testo di
Tuc. Florence 1937. J. E. POWELL, ‘The archetype of Thucydides’. Class.
Quart. 32, 1938, 75 and Gnom. 15, 1939, 281. See also the prefaces to the editions
by J. DE ROMILLY and o. Luscunat, the latter with a stemma codicum. B.
HEMMERDINGER, Essai sur l'histoire du texte de Th. Paris 1955. G. B. ALBERTI,
‘Questioni tucididee per la storia del testo’. Bollettino del comitato per la prepara-
zione della Ediz. Nazionale. 1957, 19. 1958, 41. 1960, 81. 1961, 59. Two groups
can be distinguished (CG and ABEFM); the oldest MS. is C (Laur. 69, 2) from
the tenth century. Both groups go back to minuscule hyparchetypes, derived
in turn from a minuscule archetype. But there are other strands of tradition,
and two MSS, (B=Vat. 126 and the more recent H=Par. 1734) from 6. 92
onwards show readings going back to an uncial MS. of the fifth century. Since
there is a good deal of contamination, eclectic methods have to be used in setting
up the text. On the recentiores (how much is genuine, how much Byzantine
conjecture): 0. LUSCHNAT, Gnom. 26, 1954, 309. A. KLEINLOGEL, Beobachtungen
zu einigen ‘recentiores’ des Th. Abh. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1957/1.
Summary of recent work: F. M. WASSERMANN, © Thucydidean Scholarship
1942-56’. Class. Weekly 50, 1956, 65. 89. W. EBERHARD, ‘Fachbericht Thuk.’.
Gynin. 67, 1960, 209. 68, 1961, 329. For the older work see scHMID 5, 1948.
Editions: H. $. JONES-J. E. POWELL, 2nd ed. Oxf. 1942. J. DE ROMILLY, book
1. Coll. des un. de Fr. 1953 (2nd ed. 1958); books 6-7 (with L. BODIN) 1955; book
2 1962. O. LUSCHNAT (an improved version of HUDE’s edition) I (books 1-2)
Leipz. 1954; 2nd ed. 1960. C. F. SMITH, 4 vols. Loeb Class. Lib., Lond. 1923. With
commentary: the old edition of J. CLASSEN, 8 vols. Berlin 1862-76, reprinted
to 1922 with the collaboration of J. steup, is still valuable. A. MADDALENA
(book 1 in three parts), Bibl. di studi sup. Florence, vol. 15,1951; 18, 1952; 20, 1952.
Without text: A. w. GOMME, A Historical Commentary on Thucydides I (book 1),
Oxf. 1945 (repr. with corr. 1950); II (books 2-3), III (books 4-s. 24), 1956.
The commentary is to be completed by aA. ANDREWES and K. J. DOVER. Selected
parts in M. I. FINLEY, The Greek Historians 1959. — Scholia: c. HuDE, Leipz. 1927.
— Lexicon: G. A. BETANT, 2 vols. Geneva 1843/47. Repr. by Olms of Hildesheim
1961. — Index: M. H. N. VON ESSEN, Berl. 1887. — Translations: English: THOMAS
HOBBES, ed. by D. GRENE. Ann Arbor. Michigan Un. Pr. 1959. H. DALE, Lond.
1849. R. CRAWLEY, 1876 (repr. Everyman’s Lib. 1910). B. jowETT, 2nd ed. Oxf.
1900. R. WARNER (Penguin Classics), Lond. 1954. French: Romilly’s edition
(v. supra). German: A. HORNEFFER-H. STRASBURGER, Bremen 1957. Partial
translations: H. M. WILKINS, The Speeches from Thuc. Lond. 1870. 0. REGEN-
BOGEN, Thuk. politische Reden. Leipz. 1949 (with good introd.). G. P. LAND-
MANN, Die Totenrede des Thuk. Berne 1945. C. TEN HOLDER, Das Meliergesprach.
Diisseldorf 1956. — Language: J. Ros, Die MeraBods} (Variatio) als Stilprinzip des
Thuk. Paderborn 1938. - Monographs etc.: w. SCHADEWALDT, Die Geschichts-
schreibung des Thuk. Berl. 1929. 0. REGENBOGEN, ‘Thuk. als politischer Denker’.
Das hum. Gymn. 1933, 2. A. GROSSKINSKY, Das Programm des Thuk. Berl. 1936.
H. PATZER, Das Problem der Geschichtsschreibung des Thuk. und die thuk. Frage.
Berl. 1937. 0. LUscHNAT, Die Feldherrnreden im Geschichtswerk des Thuk. Phil.
482
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

S. 34/2, Leipz. 1942. J. H. FINLEY, Jr., Thucydides. Harv. Un. Pr. 1942 (1947).
E. TOPITSCH, AvOpwreta dots und Ethik bei Thukydides’. Wien. Stud. 61/62,
1943/47, $0. H. HERTER, Freiheit und Gebundenheit des Staatsmannes bei Thuk.’.
Rhein. Mus. 93, 1950, 133. Id., “Pylos und Melos’. Rhein. Mus. 97, 1954, 316.
J. DE ROMILLY, Thuc. et l'impérialisme athénien. 2nd ed. Paris 1951. Ead., Histoire
et raison chez Thucydide. Paris 1956. Ead., ‘Lutilité de l'histoire selon Thuc.’.
Entretiens sur lantiquité class. 4. Vandceuvres-Gentve 1956, 39. K. DEICHGRABER,
Der Listensinnende Trug des Gottes. Géttingen 1952, 31. H. ERBSE, ‘Ueber cine
Eigenheit der thuk. Geschichtsbetrachtung’. Rhein. Mus. 96, 1953, 38. H.
STRASBURGER, “Die Entdeckung der politischen Geschichte durch Thuk.’.
Saeculum 5, 1954, 395. Id., “Thuk. und die politische Selbstdarstellung der
Athener’. Herm. 86, 1958, 17. C. MEISTER, Die Gnomik im Geschichtswerk des
Thuk. Diss. Basel 1955. c. MEYER, Die Urkunden im Geschichtswerk des Thuk. Zet.
10. Munich 1955. J. voGt, ‘Das Bild des Perikles bei Th.’. Hist. Zeitschr. 182/2,
1956, 249. H. J. DIESNER, Wirtschaft u. Gesellschaft bei Thuk. Halle 1956; cf. a. w.
GOMME, Grom. 30, 1958, 439 and DIESNER, ‘Thukydidesprobleme’. Wiss.
Zeitschr. der Un. Halle. Ges.-Sprachwiss. 8, 1959, 683. H. DILLER, ‘Freiheit bei
Thuk. als Schlagwort und Wirklichkeit’. Gymn. 69, 1962, 189. On biographical
detail see 0. LUSCHNAT, ‘Der Vatersname des Historikers Thuk.’. Phil. 100, 1956,
134.

8 THE SCIENCES
Our discussion of the historians, philosophers and particularly the sophists of
the second half of the sth century suffices to give us a picture of a prose literature
which developed vigorously in several directions. All the same a great deal is
lacking for this picture to be completed in all its details. This age, which repre-
sents one of the most momentous revolutions in European intellectual life with
its thrust toward rationalisation and individualisation, called forth in creative
workers in the most varied fields the wish to justify or explain their activity by
means of the written word. It should not be forgotten that, apart from their
more easily remembered achievements, it was the Greeks who created the forms
of scientific and technical literature which have henceforth remained standard.
In the discussion of Sophocles’ treatise On the Chorus mention was made of the
architect Ictinus and the sculptor Polycletus who wrote on the theory of their
professions. It is a somewhat different matter when a technical paper is not
concerned with a certain achievement whose understanding it seeks to facilitate,
but itself contains and represents this achievement. This condition occurs no-
where so distinctly as in the case of the royal science of mathematics. Even ages
which knew more about the Greek achievement than the present have hardly
acquired a correct appreciation of the power and depth of vision which is
evinced in the mathematical thought of the Greeks. It may be considered as
certain that its beginnings can be looked for in Pythagorean circles, however
poor our knowledge may be with regard to details.’
t But in chapter 6 of his important book Weisheit und Wissenschaft, Nuremberg 1962,
W. BURKERT has sharply illuminated the problems of the communis opinio.
483
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

We discern three main problems: the squaring of the circle, the trisection of
the angle, the doubling of the cube.’ Hippocrates of Chios, who chose Athens
as the scene of his labours and whose achievements are dated in the end of the
sth century, busied himself with the first and third of these. His ‘lunes’ have
remained famous, since they represented a significant step toward the goal of
establishing a rationally intelligible relation between the circle and the square.
Its solution was carried further by the sophist Antiphon who sought to approach
the circle by inscribing regular polygons with an increasing number of sides
(VS 87 B 13), whereas Bryson of Heraclea, the son of Herodotus of the same
city, attempted an approach through circumscribed polygons. Although these
attempts were inconclusive, mathematics had started on the road along which
Archimedes was to come to the expression of 7 by the limiting values 3.141
and 3.142. The versatile Hippias of Elis also occupied himself with mathematics,
especially the trisection of angles; with his quadratrix he even approached the
field of the higher curves. From Plato’s Theaetetus we know of Theodorus of
Cyrene who proved the irrationality of 1/3, V/s... 17. The fact that Theo-
dorus went up to exactly 1/17 is an excellent example of the use of geometrical
figures to acquire this kind of knowledge.* It may be assumed that the Pytha-
gorean Hippasus continued Theodorus’ enquiries and that he was the discoverer
of incommensurability.3 It appears from some information in Iamblichus (VS
18) that Hippasus raised opposition within the Pythagorean circle and got into
trouble. He was also politically active. It would probably be correct to put his
date as the middle of the sth century.
Oenopides of Chios, a younger contemporary of Anaxagoras, was another
mathematician; his name is especially connected with an achievement in
astronomy, the discovery of the ecliptic. Mathematics and astronomy also went
hand in hand in other respects; the Athenian Meton, whom Aristophanes put
on the stage in the Birds, determined the solstices, utilizing observations of the
metic Phaénus, and collaborated with the Athenian Euctemon in improving the
calendar by means of an intercalary cycle of nineteen years; he also had calendar
tablets and a sundial put up in public places. It was characteristic of contem-
porary science that such empirical methods went side by side with the specula-
tions of Philolaus, a Pythagorean of Croton. He was the teacher of Socrates’
followers Simmias and Cebes whom we know from Plato’s Phaedo and was the
first, according to Demetrius of Magnesia,* to publish a book on Pythagorean-
ism. In Philolaus’ cosmology the heavenly bodies circle round a central fire
which is the source of power and movement. Together with the earth, which
for the first time is moved from its central position, a counter-earth moves
symmetrically though it cannot be seen from the inhabited world (VS 44 A
16 f.). Hicetas of Syracuse, whose date cannot be given with any precision,
‘ On the history of the problems in antiquity 0. BECKER, Das mathematische Denken der
Antike. Studienh. z. Altertumswiss. Gottingen 1957; in add. K. v. FRITZ, Gnom. 30, 1958, 81.
* Proved brilliantly by the ‘commercial traveller’ pr. J. G. ANDERHUB in Joco-Seria.
Wiesbaden-Biebrich 1941, 161.
* K. v. FRITZ, “The discovery of incommensurability by Hippasus of Metapontum’.
Ann. Math. 46, 1945, 242. “Dio, Lacerta 8. os— ao a4eAen:
484
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

improved Philolaus’ theory in one point, if Cicero can be trusted (Acad. prior. 2,
123). He makes the earth spin round its own axis, while the remaining heavenly
bodies stand still. He apparently abandoned the peculiar counter-earth.
Agatharchus is considered to be the inventor of scene-painting, which prob-
ably means that he painted them in accordance with the laws of perspective.
Vitruvius states (7 pr. 11) that he wrote a commentarius (séuvnua) on the sub-
ject and that Anaxagoras and Democritus followed him with treatises on per-
spective.
Although the splendid sweep of the older Ionian periegesis and ethnography
ended as the century advanced, this genre was not discontinued. Phileas, prob-
ably an Athenian of the sth century, was the author of a periegetical work
which was used much later by Stephanus of Byzantium in his geographical
lexicon.
The rich intellectual life which is revealed to us in the observations of this
chapter speaks to us now only through some pitiful remnants. In numerous
cases we can no longer indicate in what form the individual scientist expressed
himself, and we even have to admit the possibility that a great deal was written
down by pupils who based themselves on oral tradition. Only in the sphere
of medicine are things entirely different; under the name of Hippocrates of Cos,
the great physician, there exists a literature which fills many volumes. But it
involves a number of very difficult problems; in spite of significant advances in
the last few decades, philology and medical history are still far from solving
them. On the one hand we have an undoubtedly historical personality of
tremendous influence, on the other a voluminous corpus under his name whose
composition shows the most disparate features. Is there a bridge solid enough
to connect the two?
Biographical information about Hippocrates is found in Tzetzes (Chil. 7. 944),
in Suidas, a Brussels manuscript of Priscian and a strongly idealized life under
the name of Soranus. From this material very little can be learned. Hippocrates,
the son of the physician Heraclides, was an Asclepiad of Cos. This means that he
belonged to a guild of physicians who derived their origin from Asclepius after
the example of the Homeric physicians Podalirius and Machaon, although we
cannot tell whether such a genealogy was still taken very seriously at the time.
His home was the island of Cos with its Dorian settlers off the southwest coast
of Asia Minor. Opposite it lay Cnidos, likewise the seat of an important,
perhaps even older, medical school.! That of Cos is indissolubly connected with
the name of Hippocrates, but there had been medical activity there before him,
and members of his family practised the art of healing in the island for genera-
tions before and after him. However untrustworthy it may be, yet the tradition
that the treatise On Fractures and Dislocations was the work of his grandfather is
characteristic. At present any conjectures which have sought to establish a close
connection between Hippocrates and the cult of Asclepius are considered un-
founded. The worship of the god, which acquired its Asclepieum, soon to
become famous, in the island at the end of the 4th century, is of relatively late
« Cf. Anonymus Londinensis (no. 1820 P.) 4, 31.
485
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

date,! and at any rate the spirit of Hippocratic medicine shows the greatest
contrast imaginable with the practices of the priests as we know them from
Epidaurus. The close affinity of physician with priest which we may assume for
an earlier age was brought to an end by Ionian science and the enlightenment
of the sth century.
It is certain that Hippocrates’ influence reached its peak at the time of the
Peloponnesian war, with which the date of his birth in 460 agrees. His teachers
are supposed to have been first his father, then his gymnastics teacher and
Herodicus of Selymbria (who later wrote on dietetics) and men like Gorgias,
Prodicus and Democritus. As always in such cases, most of this has been
squeezed from quotations in the writings and from real or supposed connections
of individual passages. We can believe that he travelled far and also that he was
buried in Thessaly, where his grave was shown in Larissa.
All this is little enough and its importance is far outweighed by some passages
in Plato and Aristotle; in Plato these are Protagoras 311 b and Phaedrus 270 c,
in Aristotle Polit. 7, 4. 1326 a 14 in which we find the additional information
that Hippocrates was short of stature. But the second of the Platonic passages
mentioned is far more important than any other piece of evidence. Socrates
asks Phaedrus if he thinks it possible to comprehend the nature (¢vous) of the
soul without knowing the nature of the whole. Phaedrus answers that, if one
is to believe the Asclepiad Hippocrates one could not even learn anything about
the body without this method. It is a difficult and controversial question what
is meant here by this whole whose knowledge will bestow more profound
knowledge of the body according to Hippocrates, and of the soul according to
Plato. The majority of scholars have adopted the obvious interpretation that
Plato had the universe in mind when speaking of the whole, thus offering
invaluable evidence that Hippocrates derived his medical doctrines from a
greater general knowledge of nature.” In the latest discussion of the question,
however, Hans Diller is inclined to interpret the whole as ‘the object of the
treatment together with everything which stands in an active or passive con-
nection of influence with it’. However this difficult passage may be interpreted,
it is known for certain that the physician Hippocrates built up his doctrine on a
theoretical basis and demanded that each detail should be derived from general
principles. It is equally possible to defend with confidence the assertion that
beside the empiricism of which the Epidemics gives us the most impressive
evidence in the Hippocratic Corpus, the speculative element, the hypothesis,
must have played a decisive role. But it also is important to realize the limitations
of our knowledge, for although we may have found something of value with
' 0. KERN, Die Religion der Gr. 3, Berl. 1938, 153. On the worship of the god: g. and t.
EDELSTEIN, Asclepius. 2 vols. Baltimore 1945.
2 EDELSTEIN, who understands by the whole the notion of the body and the soul, gives
bibl. RE S 6, 1935, 1318. In add. DILLER, Herm. 80, 1952, 407, I and KUHN (v. inf.), 88.
Here we cannot discuss the matter of the parallel drawn in the Phaedrus between the Hippo-
cratic method and a correct understanding of rhetoric. Opposite opinion in JAEGER, Paideia
2, 33 and KUHN (v. inf.). On the problem ofthe ‘whole’ recently prtEr, Jahrbuch der Akad.
d. Wiss. u. d. Lit. Mainz 1959, 275. ;
486
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

regard to Hippocrates’ method, we have learnt hardly anything about his

system. A clue to this system seemed to be offered when in 1892 a voluminous
papyrus of the 2nd century a.p., the so-called Anonymus Londinensis (no. 1820
P.) became known, which contains excerpts from the history of medicine of
Aristotle's pupil Menon. The remark is found here that Aristotle derived the
aetiology of diseases from gases which form in the body during the process of
digestion. The difticulty is that the Corpus Hippocraticum affords no basis (not in
the writing Deflatibus either) for the assumption that here we find Hippocrates’
true doctrine handed down. The information mentioned may be the fruit of
later interpretation and conjecture.
Can we find this Hippocrates, of whom we know something, though little,
in the heterogeneous mass of writings which have been handed down in his
name?
Some one hundred and thirty writings have come down to us in his name, a
large part of which are rejected at the very outset as late forgeries. The books
transmitted in the good manuscripts, written without exception in the Ionian
dialect, constitute about half of the number mentioned, forming the so-called
Corpus Hippocraticum as contained in Littré’s monumental edition.' Fifty-eight
writings have been collected in it in 73 books. The composition of the Corpus
exhibits the same motley character in form and contents; prognostic, surgery,
dietetics and gynaecology occur side by side with treatises in the physician’s
social position; finished books stand cheek by jowl with speeches, manuals and
loosely connected notes. The Corpus also contains writings of the Cnidian
school, whose most important physician was Euryphon; Ctesias, Artaxerxes
Mnemon’s physician-in-ordinary and writer of the Persica was also a member.
This school laid the main stress on special pathology and it is a difficult, and as
yet unfinished, task to single it out within the Corpus.? In this connection the
polemic which the author of the writing On Diet in Acute Diseases (Ilept dvatrys
6&€wyv) directs against the Cnidian doctrines is particularly interesting. Some very
late parts can also be pointed out in the collection, the bulk of which belongs to
the sth and 4th centuries. Among these are the Praecepta (IlapayyeAtax), dated on
good grounds in the 2nd century and written in an archaizing Ionian, and the
treatise On (the Physician’s) Decorum (Ilept edaxnpoodyys), which must be dated
in the same time or a little earlier.+
It has been impossible to come to a reliable conclusion about the manner in
which the Corpus has been put together, which does not bode well for attempts
t Survey in LITTRE (v. inf.), 1. 292. H. A. GOSSEN, RE 8, 1913, 1812; S 3, 1918, 1154.
EDELSTEIN, 7rept dépwv (v. inf.), 160.
2 J. ILBERG, ‘Die Arzteschule von Knidos’. Sitzb. Sdchs. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 76/3, 1924
attributes twelve writings to the school. EDELSTEIN (v. inf.), 154, is more critical. Cf.
W. KAHLENBERG, Herm. 83, 1955, 252. JAEGER, Paideia 2. 19 is cautious.
3 Cf. O. REGENBOGEN, Studies presented to D. M. Robinson Il, 1953, 627.
4 K. DEICHGRABER, Herm. 70, 1955, 106. U. FLEISCHER, Untersuchungen zu den pseudo-hipp.
Schriften mapayyedac rept inrpob und zepi evaxnootyns. N. D. Forsch. 240. Berl. 1939.
H. DILLER, Arch.f.Gesch. d. Med. 29, 1936/7, 178 claimed that he detected Stoical-pneumatic
elements in the treatise On Nourishment (Ilepi tpodqs). Opposed by M. POHLENZ, Die Stoa,
2, 2nd ed. Gott. 1955, 177-
487
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

at separating the genuine Hippocratic writings from the rest. There is no secure
evidence for anything written by Hippocrates before the age of the Alexan-
drians. In the 3rd century B.c. Baccheus of Tanagra composed a Glossary (Aé&eus
‘Inmoxpdrous) on a number of writings (about twenty?) which he considered to
be Hippocratic. This was the main source for a similar undertaking by Erotianus
(Tv rap’ ‘Inmoxpdter AeLewy avvaywyn),” who wrote in the Ist century A.D.
He also has a catalogue of Hippocratic writings which comprises 38 books and in
addition 2 non-medical writings (IIpeoBevtixds, EmBapuos). The Brussels Life
lists $3 books, Suidas a much admired collection of 60 books (‘E&nxovraBiBros),
apart from the oath, prognoses and aphorisms. Other combinations are found in
the manuscript catalogues. The most ancient commentary surviving, which was
written by Apollonius of Cition about Hepi dp§pwy, must be dated in the ist
century B.c.4 Thus there emerges a picture of a varying core with a certain
tendency toward increase. When and how a Corpus Hippocraticum began to
take shape at all it is impossible to say. There are plenty of conjectures, from the
surmise that the library of the Coan school was preserved (Sarton), to the
sceptical theory of Edelstein that the writings all came anonymously to Alexan-
dria in the beginning of the 3rd century and that the name of Hippocrates was
added to them later. There is no secure basis for any hypothesis, but in his
oration to the Academy at Mainz (1959) Hans Diller demonstrated that there
were good reasons for singling out from among these as the most probable that
the bulk of Hippocratic writings does in fact originate from a library which was
the tool of trade of the Coan school. It is understandable that in the course of
time it was increased with various additions. Diller’s strongest argument is his
reference to the aphoristical instructions contained in the Corpus. These collec-
tions, the most celebrated of which are the Hippocratic aphorisms, were created
in the period extending from the end of the sth into the second half of the 4th
century. They display such clear and extensive contacts with the didactic
writings of the Corpus, that several of them must be considered to have been
already closely connected with it at that time.5 To account for this, the most
obvious assumption is no doubt the existence of a medical library in Cos.
The question of the genuineness of the individual writings designated as
Hippocratic is one which aroused a lively interest even in antiquity. Galen
devoted a special book to it,® and it is still unanswered at present, even though
the circle of what is held to be genuine has become considerably smaller.
Many scholars count the treatise On Ancient Medicine (Hlept dpyains intpufs)?

' Listed in DEICHGRABER, Die Epidemien (v. inf.), 146, 1.

* Ed. E. NACHMANSON, Uppsala 1918. The same, Erotianstudien. Ibid. 1917.
3 J. L. HEIBERG, Corp. Med. Graec. I/1. 1. + Ed. by H. scHONg, Leipz. 1896
5 On the Coan Prognoses, probably the last of these collections, and presumably beloneia,
to the 2nd half of the 4th century, 0. poEPPEL, Die hippokratische Schrift Kwaxat sede
und ihre Uberlieferung. Diss. Kiel 1959 (typescr.). adit
o J. MEWALDT, ‘Galenos ueber echte und unechte Hippocratica’. Herm. 44, 1909, III
7 Bibl. in ERNA LESKY, AfdA 3, 1950, 99. Further H. DILLER, ‘Hipp. Medizin und mtrische
Philosophie’. Herm. 80, 1952, 385 with an attempt at late dating after Plato’s Philebus
J.-H. KUHN (v. inf.).
488
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
among the older books of the Corpus Hippocraticum which can be approximately
assigned to the last thirty years of the sth century. In this work, which bases
itself on medicine concerned with the individual and centres on the effect of
diet on the body in particular cases, war is declared on a modern school of
thought which, as hypothetical medicine, starts from general principles and
inclines towards speculations like those of the natural philosophers. This struggle
about methods remains characteristic of science and philosophy in the following
ages. The treatise which gives us this valuable understanding is certainly not of
Hippocrates’ hand. We can affirm, on the contrary, that, although he may not
be the direct object of the attack, he starts from other premisses, provided that
the Platonic passage discussed earlier has been correctly evaluated.
We shall now cast a glance at a number of books which Pohlenz, in his
monograph, grouped together as genuine. Two books stand out which, apart
from any historical importance, are true treasures of Greek literature as evidence
of archaic prose of the second half of the sth century (prose reached its classical
peak later than poetry) and through the pristine freshness with which the prob-
lems are broached.
The treatise On Airs, Waters and Places (Ilepi dépwv, t5dé7wv, tommy) is often
referred to nowadays as the treatise On Environment, a title which stresses the
essential subject. In it aetiological thinking has taken up the question of the
influence of natural conditions such as wind, weather, radiation of the sun,
nature of the soil and water, on healthy and sick people and treated it in a way
which founded a tradition lasting for more than a thousand years. It is impressive
evidence of the keen interest of this circle in medical problems that while dis-
cussing macrocephalics they enquired into the problem of congenital properties
(14). The sentence construction of this Ionian prose is as clumsy as the composi-
tion generally. It appears that the treatise consists of two parts, of which the
first observes man under the influence of various environmental conditions,
while the second, which is more closely allied with ancient Ionian ethnography,
contrasts Asia and Europe with respect to composition of soil, climate and
population. It has been strikingly observed that a travelling physician speaks in
the first part, but an aetiologist’ in the second, but that does not make it com-
pulsory to assume two different writers for a treatise so uniform in composition.
The writing On the Sacred Disease (Iept éeprjs vovcov) has always been rightly
considered a landmark of European science. Its writer proves in lucid and
assured arguments that epilepsy is in no way more sacred than any other disease,
and carries on his attack with splendid élan against the whole mess of demon-
ology and other superstitions with which the conception of the universe of
many of his contemporaries was disfigured. But his enlightened thinking was
not irreligious. On the contrary, this very writing presents exquisite evidence of
Greek devoutness, for the scientific enquiry after the natural causes of diseases is
at the same time one after their divine origin, since in the final analysis every-
thing came from the deity (2. 18). It is the same belief in the divine nature of
' Hy, DILLER, Wanderarzt und Aitiologe. Phil. Suppl. 26/3, 1934. More bibl. in NESTLE
(v. inf.), 217, 93, HEINIMANN and f£. LesKy (both v. inf.).
489
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the physis, which makes the writer of the treatise On Environment (22) ascribe
to all that happens the same divine nature. In view of the great scientific signifi-
cance of the treatise On the Sacred Disease it is of minor importance that the
physiological explanation of epilepsy through mucous excretion from the brain
and congestion of the passages through which air and blood flow, is far removed
from modern medical knowledge.
Is it the same man who addresses us in the two works discussed? There is a
far-reaching similarity in conception of the universe and scientific attitude, but
F. Heinimann! wished to assume different authors on the ground of discrepancies
in details and diction, dating On Environment, as being the older, shortly before
430, and On the Sacred Disease ten to twenty years later. But the question is still
open whether the differences indicated necessarily imply different authorship;
nor can the problem of relative chronology be considered as conclusively
settled.
Do we hear Hippocrates himself in both treatises or at least in the one On the
Sacred Disease? For some time it has almost become a dogma to affirm this and
it is indeed attractive to equate the bold scientist with the great physician. But
this does not imply certainty. What we said about the information regarding
Hippocrates, about the history and the testimony of the Corpus, is sufficient
indication that certainty cannot be attained.
Of another group of writings no more can be said than that they may at least not
have remained uninfluenced by the head of the school (Deichgraber); Pohlenz assigns
them also to Hippocrates, whereas Deichgraber? relegates the two writings just
discussed outside this sphere on the ground of method and the formulation of
the problem. In his penetrating study of the Epidemics (the title means visits to
foreign cities), the scholar mentioned proved that Books 1 and 3 are the oldest
parts and closest to Hippocrates; in addition to these the Prognosticum is the most
important aid, used well into our modern age, which is supposed to make it
possible for the physician to anticipate the course of a disease. From the older
books written about 410, a later group can be separated (2, 4, 6); an epidemic in
Perinthus between 399 and 395 gives a clue to their date. Epidemics 5 and 7 are
later again and to be dated about the middle of the century. These case-histories
from places in northern Greece with their painstaking casuistry are impressive
evidence of the importance of conscientious and unprejudiced observation at the
bedside, the empirical foundation of Hippocratic doctrine. But the urge to
advance from the separate phenomenon to its cause and to derive it from general
principles is indissolubly connected with it, as is expressed by the careful con-
sideration of season and of weather conditions (doctrine of catastasis). All the
books are guided by the same scientific spirit, and since the last group is certainly
connected with Cos there is no doubt that the whole work may be attributed to
the school of Hippocrates. There is no certainty in the matter of whether the
older books contain notes from the master’s own hand, but this is still possible.
In accordance with the time of composition and their scientific spirit we can
join the main surgical work of the Corpus to the books mentioned. These are
1 (v. inf.), 170. 2 Die Epidemien (v. inf.), 170.
490
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

the two treatises On Fractures (Ilept &yav) and On the Setting of Limbs (Mept
apOpwv €uBodrjs), by the same author, which at one time belonged together.
At least two more works from the rich stock of the Corpus must be mentioned
which are somewhat remote from the ones dealt with so far. In the book On the
Nature of Man ([lept ¢dovos avOpaérov) a theory of arteries is developed which
Aristotle (Hist. An. 3, 3. 512 b 12) connects with the name of Polybus, Hippo-
crates’ son-in-law, so that the work can most probably be attributed to him.t
It may have been written in 400; it shows older theories elaborated into the
doctrine of the four humours (blood, phlegm, choler and black choler) for
which Empedocles’ four elements served as a model. In this way Polybus
prepared the way for the pathology of humours as well as the doctrine of the
four temperaments. It would be particularly interesting to know to what extent
he elaborated upon doctrines of his father-in-law’s, but it is not possible to do
so.
The four books On Diet (Ilept Scairns, an expression referring to the complete
regimen), which are based on the notion that nourishment and work must be
properly related, build up an eclectical system which utilizes various philo-
sophical and medical sources. Although the work is usually dated at the end of
the sth century,” Jaeger argues in favour of dating it fifty years later.
The questions connected with the Hippocratic school are numerous and
difficult. But in spite of the many unsolved problems the spirit of classical
medicine stands forth clear and impressive. It is controlled by a strictly scientific
attitude. Aetiology and prognosis precede therapy, whose possibilities were
still very limited at the time, for in this respect the physician felt himself mainly
to be the assistant of the force about which we read in the treatise On Nourish-
ment (Ilept tpod7js 15): Nature suffices for all in all. Viewed as a whole, we can
see that the main characteristic of all Hippocratic medicine is its intimate relation
with the notion of physis. Nature, whom these physicians considered themselves
to serve and from whom they drew their knowledge, was conceived as the great
force which comprised everything and which also controlled all that was
individual. In her are contained the forces which maintain health, restore what
has been disturbed and which always aim at the right mean.3
Apart from the scientific attitude of classical medicine, which exerted an
influence far beyond the scope of its activity, its lofty professional ethos remains
an example for all times. Many passages in the separate writings attest to it, but
it speaks to us most forcibly in the Oath which all Hippocratic physicians had to
take before being admitted to their corporation. Even if the present version
was not written until the 4th century, as was recently argued,* the moral
' Reservations in JAEGER, Paideia 2, 363, 20.
2 A. PALM, Studien zur hipp. Schrift Mept d:airns. Tiib. 1933. JAEGER, Diokles von Karystos.
Berl. 1938, 167; Paideia 2, 45. H. DILLER, ‘Der innere Zusammenhang der hipp. Schrift
De Victu’. Herm. 87, 1959, 39.
3 H. DILLER, ‘Der griech. Naturbegriff’. N. Jahrb. 2, 1939, 241. D. HOLWERDA, Commentatio
de vocis quae est dvous vi atque usu praesertim in Graecitate Aristotele anteriore. Groningen 1955.
4 L, EDELSTEIN, The Hippocratic Oath. Text, Transl. a. Interpr. Baltimore 1943. H. DILLER,
Gnom. 22, 1950, 70.
491
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

seriousness which it expresses is appropriate to Hippocratic medicine as a great

intellectual movement from the very beginning.

On the problem of the genesis of the Hippocratic Corpus v. supra, two large
editions of Hippocrates are found in the 2nd century A.p., of which the one by
Artemidorus Capito was the source of the tradition of late antiquity and the
Middle Ages. Authoritative research in this field was done by E. PFAFF, ‘Die nur
arabisch erhaltenen Teile der Epidemienkommentare des Galen und die Uber-
lieferung des Corp. Hipp.’. Sitzb. Ak. Berlin. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1931, 558, and
‘Die Uberlieferung des Corp. Hipp. in der nachalexandrinischen Zeit.’. Wien.
Stud. 50, 1932, 67. The work of Galen, who tried to harmonize the medical
doctrines of the Hipp. school with Platonic philosophy, was of great importance
for the transmission of the Hipp. writings. Useful in this respect were his com-
mentaries, and a glossary on Hippocrates. The commentaries were translated
into Syrian and Arabic, and from these into Hebrew and Latin. Along their way
they exerted considerable influence but at the same time they are an important
body of textual evidence which often leads to an edition deviating from the
direct tradition. H. DIELS, Die Handschriften der antiken Arzte. Abh. Ak. Berlin.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1, 1905; 2, 1906 has laid the foundation for the manuscript tradi-
ion; also cf. J. ILBERG in the edition of KUHLEWEIN; HEIBERG in his praefatio.
Opposing a common archetype EDELSTEIN, RE S 6, 1935, 1313; ibid. about the
Syrian, Arabic and Latin translations. H. DILLER, Die Uberlieferung der hipp.
Schrift epi dépwv tdatwv trorwy. Phil. Suppl. 23/3, 1932 is still a model oftextual
research; in add.: ‘Nochmals: Uberlieferung and Text der Schrift von der
Umwelt.’ Festschr. E. Kapp, Hamburg 1958, 31. Important: A. RIvIER, Recherches
sur la tradition manuscrite du traité hippocratique, ‘De morbo sacro’. Bern 1962.
Editions: Fundamental, and only partially superseded: F. r1rTR#, 10 vols. Paris
1839-61 with introductions, notes and Fr. transl., at present being reprinted
by Hakkert, Amsterdam. The ed. of H. KUHLEWEIN achieved only 2 vols.,
Leipzig 1894 and 1902. In the Corp. Med. Graec. only I/1 by J. L. HEIBERG 1927.
Selections: w. H. 8. JONES-E. T. WITHINGTON, I-IV (Loeb Class. Libr.) Lond.
1923-31, with Engl. transl., reprinted 1959. Ilepi capxév: K. DEICHGRABER,
Leipz. 1935. epi apyains intpucijs: A.-J. FESTUGIERE, Paris 1948. Some writings
of the Corpus were dealt with in dissertations written in Kiel in the school of
HANS DILLER, and multiplied in typescript: G. PREISER, Die hipp. Schriften De
Indicationibus und De Diebus indicatoriis. Ausgaben und krit. Bemerkungen. 1957.
H. GRENSEMANN, Die hipp. Schrift Uept dxraprjvev (De octimestri partu). Ausgabe
und krit. Bemerkungen. 1960. The work of 0. poppet has been referred to on
p- 488, n. 5. w. MURI, Der Arzt im Altertum, 3rd rev. ed., Munich (Heimeran)
1962, offers an excellent survey of the texts of ancient medicine together with a
transl. — Translations: R. KAPFERER in 25 vols. Stuttg. 1933-40. W. CAPELLE,
Hipp. Fiinf auserlesene Schriften. Ziirich 1955; Fischer-Biicherei 255, 1959. Hipp.
der wahre Arzt. Ziirich 1959 (with an essay by KARL JASPERS). K. DEICHGRABER,
492
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Der hipp. Eid. Stuttg. 1955. J. CHADWICK-W. N. MANN, Oxf. 1950. L. UNTER-
STEINER CANDIA, Florence 1957 (Environment, oath etc.). R. MINGHETTI, Hipp.
Aforismi (Prima e settima sezione). Trad. comm. Rome 1959. - Monographs and
studies: L. EDELSTEIN, Ilepi d€pwv und die Sammlung der hipp. Schriften. Problemata
4 Berl. 1931 (in add. J. mpewatpt, D. Litt. Zeit, 1932, 254). The same, RE S 6,
1935, 1290. K. DEICHGRABER, Die Epidemien und das Corp. Hipp. Abh. d. Preuss.
Ak. 1933/3. The same, “Die Stellung des griech. Arztes zur Natur’ in Der
listensinnende Trug des Gottes. Gétt. 1952, 83. M. POHLENZ, Hippokrates. Berl.
1938. WILH. NESTLE, Vom Mythos zum Logos. Stuttg. 1940, 209. W. A. HEIDEL,
Hippocratic Medicine. New York 1941. F. HEINIMANN, Nomos und Physis. Basel
1945. W. H. 8. JONES, Philosophy and Medicine in Ancient Greece. Baltimore 1946
(with ed. and tr. of II. apy. ¢yrp.). ERNA LESKY, Die Zeugungs- und Vererbungs-
lehren der Antike. Akad. Mainz 1950. w. Mit, ‘Der Massgedanke bei den griech.
Arzten’. Gymn. 57, 1950, 183. F. WEHRLI, ‘Ethik und Medizin. Der Arzte-
vergleich bei Platon’. Mus. Helv. 8, 1951, 36. 177. G. SARTON, A History of
Science. Lond. 1953, 331. L. BOURGEY, Observation et expérience chez les médecins
de la coll. hippocr. Paris 1953. 0. TEMKIN, ‘Greek Medicine as Science and Craft’.
Isis 44, 1953, 213. W. JAEGER, Paideia 2, 11. J.-H. KUHN, System- und Methoden-
probleme im Corp. Hipp. Herm. E 11, 1956. H. HERTER-J. STEUDEL, Die Hippokr.
Medizin’. Ciba-Zeitschrift 8, 1957, 2814. H. DILLER, ‘Stand und Aufgaben der
Hippokratesforschung’. Jahrb. der Akad. d. Wiss. und Lit. Mainz 1959, 271. CH.
LICHTENTHAELER, La Médecine hippocratique. Etudes hippocratiques 1-6. Lausanne
1948-1960. In his article “Le “Miracle grec’? en médecine’. Méd. et Hyg.
(Geneva) 19, 1961, 231, the same scholar aptly countered the principally mis-
taken opinions of c. E1s, ‘Uberschatzung der klass. Antike’. Med. Monatsschr.
1959, 725 by pointing out that it is not the sum total of positive knowledge
which matters so much as the foundation of the attitude from which European
medicine grew. F. HUFFMEIER, ‘Phronesis in den Schriften des Corp. Hipp.’.
Herm. 89, 1961, 51. R. JoLy, Recherches sur le traité pseudo-hippocratique du
Régime. Bibl. de la Fac. de Phil. et Lettr. de Liege 156, 1961. H. EB. SIGERIST, A
History of Medicine. Vol. 2: Early Greek, Hindu and Persian Medicine. Ed. by t.
EDELSTEIN. Lond./New York 1961.

Q SOCRATES
In the last thirty years of the sth century intellectual life in Athens displayed a
variety of form and an inner stirring as during no other period in Greek history.
In this epoch those contrasts came into the open which had been characterized
by Sophocles and Pericles during the peak of classical culture, but which had
then remained enclosed within one great harmony as a fertilizing tension. In
life adherence to tradition was opposed by radical
practically all departments of
attack in the spirit of the sophists. The religious festivals bore witness to the
continuation of ancient piety, but at the same time circles formed round the
teachers of wisdom who rejected the myths or explained them in their own way.
For some the laws of the city remained the final norm, to others a new vision of
natural law had been opened up which in turn was interpreted in varying ways.
R 493
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Problems of education were particularly subject to heated argument, while the

position of women also began to arise as a problem. As in a magic mirror,
comedy captured in its motley fantasy all this tugging at the old and searching
after the new. As yet the whole range of the often opposing movements was
enclosed within the framework of the polis, which at this very moment was
engaged in the decisive struggle for its existence.
The picture of all these tensions and arguments would be incomplete if we
were to forget the man who at this time was making his fellow-citizens uneasy
in streets and public places with his unending questioning and probing, some-
times making them thoughtful but more often succeeding in annoying them.
His questioning must have caught directly at the roots of this vexed time, or
even at the very roots of human existence, for only in this way can the extent
of the influence be understood which was achieved by a thinker who himself
never put pen to paper. This influence developed in so many directions and
inspired systems mutually so contrasting that later attempts to trace back all this
to one uniform source, i.e. the life and work of that man, ended without success.
The difficulties in forming an historical picture of Socrates are not due to a lack
of information about him. Besides Plato, who makes Socrates play a part in all
the dialogues except the Laws, and makes his fate the centre of individual
dialogues (Euthyphro, Apology, Crito, Phaedo), we have Xenophon as our main
witness. Firstly there are the Memorabilia, next the Apology, whose authenticity
is still doubted by some,’ then the Symposium and the Oeconomicus, whose
fictitious character is beyond any doubt, so that they play no essential part in the
argument. So we possess both a Platonic and a Xenophontic image of Socrates,
displaying mutual differences generally as well as in detail. These differences
are roughly that Xenophon presents Socrates the virtuous citizen who, through
his life, refutes all the reproaches which led to his death, while Plato shows us
the thinker who struggles with the clarification of basic conceptions and — in
the later dialogues — develops the theory of ideas. It was decisive for his image of
Socrates that in his teacher he found the realization of the mode of living which
for him counted as the perfection of the possibilities innate in man.3 It is an
essential factor in this unique process that actual memory and idealizing reflec-
tion affected each other constantly, but this should not be overlooked in its
critical appraisal. The position taken by scholarship with respect to these two
images presents a varied picture. Until recently the opinion prevailed that
Xenophon, because of his very soberness and primitive quality, is the only
reliable authority. Schmidt’s chapter on Socrates was based on this conception
of Xenophon s guileless fidelity. But generally this position has long since
been given up. Personal relations between Socrates and Xenophon no doubt

' kK. v. FRITZ, ‘Zur Frage der Echtheit der xen. Apol.’. Rhein. Mus. 80, 1931, 36. JAEGER
(v. inf.), 67, 13. On its authority: 0. GIGON, ‘Xen. Apol. des Sokr. I’. Mus. Helv. 3 1946
210. 7
: This material has been utilized by &. EDELSTEIN, Xen. und platon. Bild des Sokr. Diss
Heidelb. 1935. ,
3 Impressive discussion about this by CARL KOCH, Religio. Nurnberg 1960, 237
oO > a 2

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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
existed; evidence of this is supplied by the Anabasis (3. t, 5) with the report of
how Xenophon, before his departure for Cyrus’ campaign, asked Socrates’
advice and how the latter referred him to the Delphic oracle. This may stand as
historically valid and is of some importance for Socrates; on the other hand
Xenophon never was a pupil of Socrates’ in the real sense of the word. In
addition there is the important circumstance that Xenophon’s Socratic writings
were composed a long time after Socrates’ death, hardly before the ’sixties. An
attempt was made to prove that the first two chapters of the Memorabilia were an
exception; according to a theory which attracted a great deal of attention! they
were supposed to have been written substantially earlier as a Defence against an
Indictment published in the ‘nineties by the sophist Polycrates against Socrates
and his defenders.” It has, however, become most dubious whether this division
and antedating are tenable after Gigon’s analysis. Nevertheless the late dating
of Xenophon’s Socratica presupposes an abundant literature centring on the
figure of Socrates which preceded this work. And so the view has increasingly
gained ground that in the Memorabilia Xenophon combines his personal
memories to a large extent with extracts from the rich Socratic literature. This
view was connected with a desire to determine Xenophon’s sources. It was often
thought that he depended mainly on Plato,’ and points of contact do occur; but
in view of the dissimilarity of the two authors, direct copying is not certain in
every case. The influence of the same tradition from a third source should be
taken into account. Others again were prepared to detect mainly Antisthenes in
Xenophon,* though no such far-reaching dependence could be proved. Lately
Gigon, in his book on Socrates, has strongly emphasized the thought that as
an eclectic Xenophon has an extensive literature behind him, and holds out the
prospect of reaching through him older Socratics who are independent of Plato
and whose thought is simpler. It remains to be seen how far future research will
succeed in singling out individual contributions.
Another group of scholars did not credit Xenophon from the outset with a
real understanding of Socrates, though they assumed this wholly for Plato.
Hardly anyone will wish to object to this, but it is another question whether
I H. MAIER (v. inf.), 22. 0. GIGON, Sokrates (v. inf.), 50, cf. by the same Komm. zum 1.
(u. 2.) B. von Xen. Mem. Schw. Beitr. 5, 7, 1953/6. On Polycrates: L. RADERMACHER (v. inf.),
128.
2 £, GEBHARDT, Polykrates’ Anklage gegen Sokrates und Xenophons Erwiderung. Diss. Frank-
furt 1957 agrees with GIGON that Xenophon’s work was purely of a literary nature, and
shares his doubt about a separate early date of the Defence; on the other hand he would like
to attribute to Xenophon generally more independence in inventiveness and composition.
It seems to him that Plato takes a special position among his sources. A. H. CHROUST, ‘ Xeno-
phon, Polykrates and the “Indictment of Socrates’’’. Class. et Mediaev. 16, 1955, I, like
the books on Socrates mentioned at the end of the section, is extremely sceptical about the
collective tradition (Plato and Xenophon), and tries to make a political figure out of
Socrates. Older attempts at a reconstruction of Polycrates’ indictment in J.-H. KUHN, Gnom.
Ne
a a ee (v. inf.), 11. 38 with bibl. w. WIMMEL, ‘Zum Verhaltnis einiger Stellen
des xenoph. und des platon. Symposions’, Gymn. 64, 1957, 230 wishes to invert the relation-
ship.
4 K. JOEL, Der echte und der xenophontische S. 3 vols. Berl. 1893-1901.
495
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Plato wanted to present an historically true picture of the master based on his
understanding of Socrates or rather an interpretation in the sense of his own
philosophy. It is the Scottish school founded by J. Burnet and represented most
emphatically by A. E. Taylor which has gone farthest in the full use of Plato for
Socrates’ image.! According to them the Socrates presented by the Platonic
dialogues, the founder of the theory ofideas in all its parts, of the doctrine of the
immortality of the soul and likewise the creator of the ideal state, is entirely
historical. We shall soon become acquainted with the passages in Aristotle which
offer the decisive obstacle to this view. The theory based on Plato exclusively
belongs to the history of research. This does not imply that the earlier Platonic
dialogues, in which the theory of ideas is not yet present and in which the con-
versation, carried on dialectically, circles round an attempt at finding definitions
without a definite conclusion, do not reflect a good deal of the manner of
Socratic conversation or at least carried it on in a straight line.”
At an early stage, i.e. as early as Schleiermacher,} the attempt was begun to
make use of Plato and Xenophon for the historical image of Socrates, taking
into consideration the nature of both sources and without preference to the one
over the other. A large part of recent research has moved in this direction.
Gigon’s book on Socrates presents a necessary corrective to this by reminding of
the considerable extent of lost Socratic literature which, apart from the two
authors preserved, must indubitably have left significant traces in the mass of
the tradition. This holds good for Phaedo, Euclides, Antisthenes, Aristippus and
Aeschines. The critical sifting and ordering of the remnants of these Socratics, on
whom we shall cast a glance at the end of this section, is a largely unexplored
field in Socratic research.
Aristophanes must also be summoned as a witness. Some remarks about the
problems of his image of Socrates will be found in the discussion of the Clouds.
Presently, when we shall put the question of the purpose of Socrates’ searching,
we shall have to occupy ourselves with some passages from Aristophanes.
This brief survey demonstrates the multiplicity of the sources and the com-
plexity of the problems in this field. It should also be constantly borne in mind
that a large part of our information is derived not from work written for the
purpose of historical truth but belonging to a literature which may be truly
called Socratic fiction. But even when carefully weighing all these factors we
need not wholly share Gigon’s resignation, who roundly disputes the possibility
of reaching any conclusion about the historical Socrates, his position in the intel-
lectual life of his time and the causes of his vast influence. However much may
remain unintelligible, some facts about the way in which he invaded the intel-
lectual life of his time can be established, while others can be conjectured with
some probability, apart from the external facts of his life which, in the case of
Socrates, are not so scarce at all in comparison with other personalities of the
ancient world.

' BURNET, Greek Philosophy. London 1914. TAYLOR, Socrates. Edinb. 1932.
* In this direction G. RUDBERG, ‘Der plat. Sokr.’. Symb. Osl. 7, 1928, 1.
3 Collected works, 3. 2. 297.

496
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Socrates was born about 470 as the son of the sculptor Sophroniscus of the
deme Alopece. For some time he may have followed his father’s calling (as such
it was considered then). Later three draped Charites at the entrance to the Acro-
polis were shown as his work,! but this can hardly be credited. The young
Socrates witnessed the invasion of Ionian science in Athens and it is entirely
beyond belief that this movement did not exert an influence upon him. In the
Platonic Phaedo (96 a ff.) Socrates sketches his development leading to the
theory of ideas. This is evidently Plato’s own development, but since to a
certain extent Socrates’ questioning was a prerequisite to it, we may relate the
first part of this significant section to Socrates himself. In the Phaedo he attests
his initial interest in natural philosophy and in particular the great hopes
which Anaxagoras’ doctrine of the Nous roused in him. And this is quite
credible in itself. In addition we have good evidence for his association with
Anaxagoras’ disciple Archelaus. In his Epidemiae (fr. 11 Blumenth.) Ion of
Chios related that in his youth Socrates came to Samos with Archelaus. This
could be connected with the Samian campaign (441/440) and Socrates could still
be called rather young at this time. But the verb azrodypfjoae actually points
rather to a voyage. If we take it in this sense, we need to accept this one exception
to the statement in Plato’s Crito (52 b) that Socrates never undertook a journey
and only left his native city on war service. In our discussion of Aristophanes’
Clouds we already considered whether in this comedy a memory of Socrates’
interest in natural philosophy had been preserved. In all this it should not be
forgotten that Socrates has been fixed in the memory of mankind in the figure
of the old man who directed all his searching and questioning at man. Earlier
stages of his development necessarily had to recede into the background. In this
connection later mention of Socrates in Aristophanes’ comedies such as Frogs
and Birds seems to aim more distinctly at the Socrates whom we know.? But this
fact should not be considered an encouragement for more precise dating of
Socrates’ change of interest.
Socrates’ participation in the battles of his years of manhood (Potidaea 431,
Delium 424, Amphipolis 422) were often presented in detail in the tradition, as
in Plato’s Symposium. A complete denial of Socrates’ share in these campaigns,
as was proposed by Herodicus of Babylon in his bitter hostility to Plato in the
second century B.C., goes rather beyond the mark.’ Throughout his life Socrates
was a loyal citizen of his city and no reason can be detected in him for Plato’s
later withdrawal from the political life of his city. In his Memorabilia Xenophon
makes Socrates praise loyalty to the laws as the act of the just. This is in such
striking agreement with the radical subjection to the laws of the state which
Socrates defends in the Crito that we may recognize his actual attitude here. But
this means that he has not included the conflict between enacted law and natural
law in his questioning, a conflict which later caused so much stir among the

' Paus. I. 22, 8; 9. 35, 7. Schol. Aristoph. Nubes 793. In the first passage also a Hermes
Propylaeus.
2 R. STARK, ‘Sokratisches in den ‘‘ Vogelm”’ des Aristoph.’. Rhein. Mus. 1953, 77.
3 H. DURING, Herodicus. Stockholm 1941.
497
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

sophists, and to which he was very close. Protagoras’ position in these questions
is comparable in its results, though with an entirely different starting-point.
Socrates’ attitude, as shown here, did not, of course, prevent him from
criticizing obvious abuses such as appointment to office by means of the lot.!
In the deplorable proceedings of the year 406, in which the popular assembly,
after the victorious battle of Arginusae, condemned the generals en bloc to
death because they had been unable to rescue their shipwrecked compatriots
when a gale blew up, Socrates rose in public opposition to the mass, but not to
the law, which he was actually defending. In his quality as prytanis, according
to some sources as president of the Boule,? Socrates opposed the illegal and
senseless proceedings without being able to prevail in any way. In the Apology
(32 c) Plato makes Socrates mention his opposition against the illegal measures
of the Thirty Tyrants; there is additional evidence for this tradition in Xeno-
phon’s Memorabilia (4. 4, 3). The Thirty were trying to implicate as many
citizens as possible in their doings and ordered Socrates and four others to bring
Leon up from Salamis for execution, but Socrates simply went home. It is
difficult to evaluate the prohibition issued according to Xenophon (Mem. 1. 2,
31; 4. 4, 3) by the Thirty at Critias’ urging to muzzle this troublesome fellow.
We have to consider the possibility that measures of censorship of these terror-
ists were later placed in a particular relationship to Socrates. It is likely enough
that on occasion he clashed with their rule of violence and people like Critias,
who once followed him, must at that time have become his antagonists. For-
merly Socrates had been listened to with approval in the circles of the oli-
garchical-aristocratic opposition and the man who stood so completely outside
the framework of his own time exerted in his own way as great an influence as
many a sophist. It cannot be doubted that Alcibiades and Critias stood in some
kind of student relationship with Socrates, a fact which has caused the master’s
apologists some headaches. It is easy to understand that this relationship of
Socrates and Alcibiades — it is hard to imagine two people more ill-matched —
was presented in varying ways. In Plato’s Symposium it became the subject for
splendid fiction.
The role allotted traditionally to Socrates’ wife Xanthippe, who gave him three
sons, has been particularly bad. We can still partly trace how the image of the
shrew who put the philosopher’s equanimity to hard tests was a left-over from
information ofa very varied nature. It is more difficult to evaluate the tradition
of asecond marriage of Socrates’ with Myrto, a desperately poor daughter of
Aristides the Just. Nor is the problem made any easier by the fact that this
information is attributed to Aristotle’s On Nobility (Ilept edyevedas fr. 93 R:):
On evidential grounds two elements of Socratic biography are mostly con-
sidered to be historical, elements which are peculiar enough in a life whose
background was the ordinary Athenian day in street and market-place. One is
the saying of the Delphic oracle which, at the request of Chaerephon, singled out

OSs WH, Ms As OR Go 1, ZB Bn, (Oy, THe).

2 Prytanis: Plat. Ap. 32 b. Xen. Hell. 1. 7, 15. President: Xen. Mem. 1. 1, 18.
3 GIGON, Sokrates (v. inf.), 113.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Socrates as the most righteous and wisest among all men,! a distinction which is
in agreement with Socrates’ loyalty to the greatest Greek oracle. The other is
his daemonion, and we may take this enigmatic warning inner voice, which
would not permit him to deviate from his way, to be a factual reality of his
life.? The irrational also claimed its place in this man who put himself with such
passionate devotion in the service of the Logos.
All the information we have about his life recedes far into the background
before his trial and death in the year 399. We may phrase this more precisely by
saying that the Socrates on trial and in the hours before his death is the great
figure from whom emanated the powerful influence on the intellectual tradition
of the Western world. It is noteworthy, but by no means unparalleled, that the
facts exerted this influence only in the special form into which tradition cast
them.
Indictment and conviction were part of the reaction of the democracy whose
first act in the course of its restoration was a sacrifice to Athene on the Acropolis
(Xen. Hell. 2. 4, 39). To many people the man who interminably demanded
justification of existing opinions would appear as a representative of the forces
which undermined the old tradition and had brought in uneasiness and un-
certainty. We are unable to tell to what extent the three accusers Meletus,
Anytus and Lycon were impelled by personal motives. In the accusation lodged
in writing with the Archon Basileus, Meletus was the initiator. But it was the
politician Anytus who was the real instigator; at the time he was a strategos;
we know of him from Aristotle’s work The Constitution of Athens (34) as the
representative of a moderate party of the centre which aimed at the ‘constitu-
tion of the Fathers’. The accusation, formulated and sworn at the preliminary
hearing, has been best preserved through Favorinus in Diogenes Laertius (2. 40).
According to it, Socrates was accused of impiety because he did not accept the
gods of the state and introduced new gods; secondly, he was charged with the
corruption of youth. The accusers obviously used existing formulae, for this
would explain the uncertainty of the tradition about the facts with which they
wanted to prove the individual points of the charge.3 Neither Plato’s Apology
nor the one attributed to Xenophon can be considered a reliable witness of
Socrates’ defence at the trial. They form the beginning of a whole literature of
Socratic apologies, extending from the lost ones of Lysias, Theodectes of Phaselis,
Demetrius of Phalerum, Theon of Antioch, Plutarch to Libanius’ Declamation
(s. 1 F.). It was a less happy idea to raise to the level of authentic information
the whimsical versions of authors of the empire* who claimed that Socrates had
remained quiet in court.
The jurors declared Socrates guilty with a modest majority (281 : 220) and
1 WILH. NESTLE, ‘Sokr. u. Delphi’. Griech. Stud. Stuttg. 1948, 173.
2 HW. GUNDERT, ‘Platon und das Daimonion des Sokrates’. Gymmn. 61, 1954, 513.
3 GIGON, Sokrates (v. inf.), 69. A. MENZEL, ‘Unters. zum Sokr.-Prozesse’. Sitzb. Wien.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 145/2, 1902 (1903) is still important.
4 Philostr. Vit. Ap. 8. 2. Maximus of Tyre, Diss. 3. H. GoMPERZ, ‘Sokr. Haltung vor
seinen Richtern’. Wien. Stud. 54, 1936, 32 with unfortunate reference to Plat. Gorg. 486 a,
Theaet. 172 c.
499
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

condemned him to death with a somewhat larger number of votes (300 : 201).
An Athenian sacred embassy to Delos gave him a few days of respite and then
Socrates drank the cup of hemlock.
The great influence exerted by this man did not emanate from a consistent
doctrine. When Plato makes him state in the Theaetetus (150 c) ‘the god compels
me to perform the duties of amidwife, but has prevented me from begetting’,
the direction of his influence is caught with epigrammatical incisiveness.
Obviously this is not supposed to mean that his testing and questioning, the
whole intellectual uneasiness he knew how to arouse, was not aimed at a specific
end. Aristotle offers us the best testimony for this.' In his criticism of his
philosophical predecessors he no doubt fitted isolated phenomena into his
system and occasionally forced them into it as well, but nothing justifies the
assumption that Socrates’ ‘grandson-disciple’ covered up his ignorance about
him with fiction. Of the greatest significance is the passage in the Metaphysics
(M 4. 1078 b 27), in which Aristotle describes Socrates’ aim and method through
induction (éraxrixol Adyor) and the finding of definitions (7d opilecBbau
xabddov). The early Platonic dialogues give us a picture of this, though we
certainly must not interpret them as reports of Socratic conversation, but rather
as its continuation and elaboration. If this is correct, Socratic ‘induction’ appears
to be an approach to the object to be grasped with the aid of analogies from daily
life, particularly from that of craftsmen, and a step by step consolidation of the
ground gained against possible opposition. Xenophon (Mem. 1. 1, 16; 4. 6, 1)
also testifies that Socrates constantly searched for definitions, for ti €kacrov etn.
In order to place all this in the context in which the figure of the historical
Socrates in his greatness becomes visible through the chaos of a tradition bur-
dened with anecdotes, we shall go back a few lines from the passage in the
Metaphysics. There Aristotle states that Socrates’ search belonged in the frame-
work of his preoccupation with moral values: wept tas 7OiKas dperas
mpayywatevopevov. These, like Cicero’s well-known words (Tusc. 5. 10; Ac.
post. 1. 15) that Socrates fetched philosophy from heaven and settled it in towns
and houses, characterizes the decisive era in which Socrates lived and of which he
himself formed part. We also read in an earlier passage of the Metaphysics (A 6.
987 b 1) that Socrates sought 76 KafdAov in the province of 74«d, and in the
treatise On the Parts of Animals (642 a 28) Aristotle states directly that Socrates
finished with natural philosophy and ushered in an epoch of ethics. As he did
not hand on a formulated doctrine, his followers took different ways, but all
the systems which sprang from this soil are moulded into a unity as compared
with the past through one fact: philosophical enquiry turned wholly away from
cosmos and nature and henceforth was preoccupied with man, with the laws on
which his actions are based and with the road leading to the fulfilment of the
potentialities present in him. Socrates had this extreme concentration on man in

™ w. D. ROSS, Aristotle’s Metaph. Oxf. 1924, 1, XX XIII. TH. DEMAN, Le Témoignage @’ Aris-
tote sur Soc. Paris 1042. MAGELHAES-VILHENA (v. inf.). At present especially O. GIGON,
‘Die Sokratesdoxographie bei Aristoteles’, Mus. Helv. 16, 1959, 174. Cf. also KRAMER
Arete bei Platon und Aristoteles. Abh. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1959/6, 520.
$00
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
common with the sophists and it is from this very viewpoint that a superficial
observer might fail to recognize the fundamental difference between the two
schools of thought. In fact the sophists had no greater opponent than the man
who sought to regain a firm foundation through ideas of general validity, while
they surrendered a knowledge of reality and the norms of morality to the sport
of debate. He did not pursue this course as a logician, for whom the work of the
mind would have been a purpose in itself; his questions about the nature of piety,
ustice or courage are asked throughout with the aim of establishing norms for
the shaping oflife, for individuals as well as for the community. Ina fine chapter
of his Paideia Werner Jaeger has shown that Socrates placed man’s soul at the top
of his table of values with a determination unheard of before then. In the greatest
possible contrast with the aristocratic theory of life, man’s value is now com-
pletely separated from power, property and outward recognition, and placed in
the soul, which is his most precious possession and at the same time his greatest
duty. This way of Socratic thinking leads to a radical opposition against the old
aristocratic norm that being useful to one’s friends and harming one’s enemies
makes a man. Doing wrong is now felt as a stain on one’s own soul, and is no
more permissible to an enemy as in any other case.
Socrates saw his search for the norms of morality and their realization in the
practice of life as a complete unity. To him insight into the morally good is not
only a prerequisite for acting rightly, but it is indissolubly connected with it..
The often discussed doctrine of the knowledge of virtue culminated in the
sentence that no one does wrong willingly. True knowledge of moral norms
also guarantees acting according to them. The unconditional challenge of this
phrase provoked opposition from the very beginning. It was already voiced on
the contemporary stage, for the polemic of Phaedra (377) in the Hippolytus of
the year 428 aimed plain words, in the true Euripidean reflection, against the
equation of moral knowledge with moral action.! Aristotle (Nic. Eth. Z 13,
1144 b 17) also raised his voice in protest against the complete identification of
moral soundness with moral insight.? Since then critics have not tired of stressing
and reproving the onesidedness of Socrates’ moral intellectuality. But Socrates’
moral consciousness is founded on a more profound basis and is inadequately
characterized as pure intellectuality, as demonstrated by the line of enquiry
adopted by Richard Meister:3 Socrates experienced moral value as the absolute
and placed it as an unconditional demand in the centre of moral conscious-
ness. The evidence of this experience of value is subject to neither logical nor

1 BR. SNELL, ‘Das friiheste Zeugnis tiber Sokr.’. Phil. 97, 1948, 125, with more passages.
2 0. GIGON, Mus. Helv. 16, 1959, 182 argues correctly that in view ofthe tension between
Aoyixdy and dAoyov there was no possibility for Socrates that the dAoyoy could challenge
and vanquish the Aoyixév. Consequently Aristotle inferred that Socrates had excluded the
dxpacia from his conception. The tension between Socratic intellectualism and ethical
optimism and pre- and post-Socratic thought is dealt with by p. RaBBOw, Paidagogia. Die
Grundlegung der abendlandischen Erziehungskunst im Kampf des Irrationalen und des Rationalen.
Gott. 1960. ’
3 This appreciation ofSocratic ethical knowledge was borrowed from RICHARD MEISTER S
lecture on ethics.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

psychological objection, it falls within the scope of ideology. Criticism of this

viewpoint could only note that Socrates erred in that he equated the values in
which morality was experienced with a judgment of these values.’
Socrates’ influence cannot be separated from his personality; its force is
founded in the uncompromising spirit in which he not only made his demands,
but also himself lived accordingly. Hardly any anecdote touches the centre of
his being so profoundly as the one told by Diogenes Laertius 2, 33. Socrates
is alleged to have left the theatre when Orestes, in Euripides’ Electra (379),
declared that it is best to leave certain obscurities in life undecided. Through
his
his death Socrates gave to his disciples and posterity the final confirmation of
unconditional quest for morality to which the god had called him.
Plato, his greatest follower, lays claim to a separate place in a history of
literature, because his completely preserved output proves him to be an artist
with great powers of representation. A brief discussion of other Socratics follows
to give an impression of the lost Socratic literature.’
In ancient tradition Euclides of Megara was considered to be the founder of
the Megarian school. After Socrates’ death his friends were supposed to have
gathered round him, which does not mean that this was done from fear of
further persecution. In his doctrine he stood very close to Parmenides’ ontology
and equated the absolute Being with the good as the only truly existing to
which various wrong names are given by men (i.e. other philosophers). Among
his dialogues, the Crito and the Eroticus recall Platonic works, if in the case of the
latter we may think of the Symposium. The Aeschines belongs to the writings in
which the Socratics referred to one another, while the Alcibiades had as its subject
the personality whose relationship with Socrates particularly attracted and
fascinated both his contemporaries and posterity. Lamprias and Phoenix are mere
titles. Bryson, the son of Herodorus of Heraclea, was Euclides’ disciple (v. p. 329).
Ancient gossip (Athen, 508 c) made Plato dependent on him. The most dis-
tinguished representative of this school, Stilpo of Megara, also wrote dialogues
like Euclides.
Antisthenes of Athens is believed to have had a Phrygian mother, and this
agrees with the fact that he mostly gathered his followers around him at the
Cynosarges gymnasium, where people of mixed descent exercised. The name
of this place is connected with the Cynical school, whose spiritual founder was
Antisthenes, though he was overshadowed by his most celebrated follower
Diogenes of Sinope.’ Before he became an enthusiastic adherent of Socrates, he
had been a disciple of Gorgias’. The two declamations preserved, Ajax and
Odysseus, fall within this period; they may be considered authentic. A Defence of
Orestes is also attributed to him. It is more difficult to evaluate the information
* At this point R. REININGER’S division (Wertphilosophie und Ethik, Vienna 1939, 3)) Oi
the feeling of value, the statement of value and the criticism of value as the degrees of
awareness of value becomes fruitful.
2 Good survey in GIGON, Sokrates (v. inf.), 282.
3 EB. SCHWARTZ’S attempt, Ethik der Gr. Stuttg. 1951, 141, to separate the Cynics from
Antisthenes is corrected by w. RICHTER in the relevant note. Information about rhetorical
writings In L. RADERMACHER, Artium Scriptores (v. inf.), 120.
502
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

(Diog. Laert. 6. 1, 15) that he wrote epi A€Eews 7) wept yapakxtypwv. His attack
on Gorgias in the Archelaus does not imply that the latter was not his teacher. He
was not peaceable by nature and we learn that in his Satho, a work in three
volumes, he treated Plato most maliciously. In his doctrine a strong aversion to
speculation and a corresponding tendency to practical ethics is discernible. For
him virtue does not depend on knowledge, and Plato’s theory of ideas remained
unintelligible to him. He very strongly emphasizes the ideal of autarky which
aims at the greatest possible independence from passion and desire. It is especially
on desire that he declared war and his maxim that he would prefer losing his
mind to feeling desire has been preserved. Antisthenes’ productivity as an author
is comparable with Democritus’. We know the table of contents of an edition
in ten volumes, amounting to about seventy titles. Among these the Aspasia,
Alcibiades and Menexenus point to Socratic dialogues. The Cyrus may have been
related to the Cyropaedia of Xenophon, who in that case probably drew on it.
The Alethea has the same title as the work of Protagoras, which tells us very
little about its contents; five books On Education and On Names may have
touched upon Prodicus’ researches; the Heracles is certain to have shown the ideal
figure of the Cynics as the perfect master over all human weaknesses.
The enormous gap between the answers of the Socratics to the questions of
the meaning and aim of life is demonstrated particularly plainly if we follow up
Antisthenes with Aristippus of Cyrene. The Cyrenaic school is difficult to grasp,
and though there are connected trends of thought, it must not be simply de-
scribed as the predecessor of Epicureanism. Its criticism appears to be rendered
more difficult because late information (Euseb. Praep. Ev. 14. 18, 31 f.) attributes
the ethical doctrines of the Cyrenaics to the grandson of Aristippus who bears
the same name,! but this tradition ought not to be thought to carry much weight.
Aristippus’ doctrine comprises a profound agnosticism regarding matters of the
exterior world. For us, only our condition of desire and grief is perceptible.
Between these there is a constant movement, so that a life of pure desire is un-
attainable for man. Here the beginning can be detected of the pessimism which
under Ptolemy I secured for the Cyrenaic Hegesias the nickname of Pisithanatus,
because he wished to prove that suicide was the most advisable solution to the
problems of life. Aristippus, however, produced an ethical system which
amounted to a correctly regulated balancing of attainable desire and avoidable
grief, thus promising to the philosopher the superiority which Antisthenes tried
to reach through ascetical self-control. There are numerous anecdotes about this.
Two literary catalogues which we know offer a series of titles. It is difficult to
tell what to make of a note that his Socratic writings were collected in one
volume. In that case they cannot have been dialogues in the Platonic manner. A
Didactic Letter to his daughter Arete, who is supposed to have carried on the
tradition after him, is notable because one of the Socratic letters pretends to be
addressed by Aristippus to this daughter of his.
1 Approved by scHWARTz (v. inf.), 181; cf. G. B. L. COLIOSO, Aristippo di Cirene. Turin
1925. Rejected by G1GON, Sokrates (v. inf.), 300, and Mus. Helv. 16, 1959, 178, 3. Further
information in the bibl. appendix to this section.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

In contrast to the three men mentioned before, nothing can be affirmed of

Aeschines of Sphettus, either with regard to doctrine or definite membership of
a school. But he was particularly successful as a writer of Socratic dialogues, of
which we can more or less make out some seven. The mimetic element, lively
conversational tone and a wealth of scenic detail were strongly emphasized by
him. His Alcibiades! and Aspasia are the most readily discernible. The contrast
between the straightforward inexorable thinker and the radiant young aristocrat
was presented in a very impressive manner in the first of these dialogues, while in
the Aspasia the praise of this unusual woman was meant to prove the equality
of her womanly ability. The unconcern for chronology which we know from
Plato is made evident by the fact that Xenophon, his young wife and Aspasia
are brought together here. The Telauges brought Socrates into conversation with
a Pythagorean; as mere titles we add Axiochus, Callias, Miltiades and Rhino.
Phaedo of Elis, who gave his name to one of Plato’s greatest creations, is not
clearly tangible to us either as the founder of the Elean school or as a composer
of Socratic dialogues. As such, a Zopyrus is attributed to him, as well as a Simo.
The former owed its name to a Thracian who was supposed to be an inventor of
physiognomical methods. From a study of Socrates’ features he attributed to him
dullness and evil passions, and Socrates admitted to these; but through his
spiritual discipline he was supposed to have mastered his natural tendencies.?
This anecdote could originally have come from Phaedo’s dialogue.
Some elements of the rich tradition which we have traced here are reflected
in the letters of Socrates and the Socratics,3 products of the epistolography of
the empire.

Bibliography: 0. crcon, Bibliogr. Einfiihrung in das Studium der Philosophie s,

Antike Philos. Bern 1948, 23. Books on Socrates by H. MArER, Tiib. 1973.
H. KUHN, Berl. 1934; repr. Munich 1959. A.-J. FESTUGIERE, Paris 1934. 0. GIGON,
Bern 1947 (Gigon’s conception of Socrates opposed in: c. J. DE VOGEL, Mnem.
4, 1951, 30 and Phronesis 1, 1955, 26. J. H. KUHN, Gnom. 26, 1954, 512; 29, 1957,
170). D. DE MAGELHAES-VILHENA, Le Probléme de Socr. Le Socr. historique et le
Socr. de Platon. Paris 1952. In add. GIGON, Gnom. 27, 1955, 259. A. H. CHROUST,
Socrates, Man and Myth. The Two Socratic Apologies ofXenophon. London 1957,
cf. p. 494, n. 2. W. JAEGER’S Paideia 2, 2nd ed. Berl. 1954 should also be con-
sulted. - Much work remains to be done for the collection of fragments of the
Socratics; MULLACH’S Fragm. Phil. Gr., Paris 1864 is obsolete and inadequate.
On an important section of the subject now E. MANNEBACH, Aristippi et Cyrenai-
corum fragmenta, Leiden 1961. C. J. CLASSEN, ‘Aristippos’. Herm. 86, 1958, 182,
and G. GIANNANTONI, I Cirenaici. Raccolta delle fonte antiche. Traduzione e studio
" On the reconstruction according to H. DITTMAR, Phil. Unters. 21, 1912, 97, now K.
GAISER, Protreptik und Pardnese bei Platon. Tiib. Beitr. 40, 1959, 77.
* Passages in WILH. NESTLE, Vom Mythos zum Logos, Stuttg. 1940, 490, 7.
* J. SyKuTRIS, Die Briefe des Sokr. und der Sokratiker. Paderborn 1933.

504
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
introduttivo. Florence 1958, try to oust Aristippus from the later tradition; the
former tries to define the special approach to the subject by the Socratic, while
the Italian scholar sees him as a talented hedonist without any philosophical
object. Our material is too scanty for completely definite statements, but
F. WEHRLI, Grom. 31, 1959, 412, 1s correct when he rejects GIANNANTONI'S
scepticism as too extreme. — Antisthenes’ declamations in L. RADERMACHER,
Artium Scriptores. Sitzb. Osterr. Akad. 227/3, 1951, 122. — H. DITTMAR, Aischines
von Sphettos. Phil. Unters. 21, Berl. 1912. Bibl. on Antisthenes: J. GEFFCKEN,
Griech. Lit. Gesch. 2, Heidelb. 1934, note pp. 21, 30.

C The Fourth Century up to Alexander

I PLATO AND THE ACADEMY
When Athens’ great age came to an end, its walls were destroyed and its fleets
became a memory. The collapse of power and the terror of the Thirty had passed
over the city, but in 403 Thrasybulus’ action led to the restoration of the demo-
cracy, and a generously planned and executed amnesty offered the conditions for
a peaceful internal development. So once more there was an Athens with a
council and an assembly which, after the swift fiasco of the Spartan hegemony,
could form a second naval league, exactly one hundred years after the first (377).
In the Athens of this century there was a great deal of discussion about the con-
stitution of the fathers and the splendid tradition of the city, and before the
Macedonian military monarchy smashed everything and completely reshaped
the Greek way of life in a period of violence, the enthusiasm for the old ideals
once again flared up in a hot blaze.
This should not, however, be mistaken for a true restitution in contemporary
Athens any more than at any other time in history. The old polis which had
built the Parthenon could not rise again. The devastations of the Peloponnesian
war had struck at the very heart of the property-owning class down to the small
peasantry, and the new conditions, favouring speculations, promoted the rapid
growth of new riches. The freedman Pasion who, as a banker and a shield-
maker, came into a tremendous fortune and of whom we know through the
orators, is a significant example of the new formation of capital. Only now did
the heirs of the aristocratic era forfeit the importance which they had still com-
manded in most spheres of life in democratic Athens during the fifth century,
while the emancipation from the bonds of the polis, prepared by the sophists,
made irresistible progress.
The inscriptions tell us of the continued existence of the old festivals with their
poetic contests until far past this time’ and we know a great many poets’ names
and titles of works. It cannot be considered a coincidence that practically the
whole output has been lost. To what extent the foundation for the great art of
the classical period was removed with the fall of the old polis can be observed
very clearly from the development of comedy.
In the fourth century the literary forms of prose, which only now reached its
1 Some information in A. PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, Dramatic Festivals. Oxf. 1953.
505
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

classical heights, dominate the foreground. The old myths, however, from
which poetry drew its life during the fifth century, even though they had clashed
grievously in Euripides, became a material mass of tradition from which inner
life had fled. As in many other things, the preparation for the Hellenistic age was
also active in this province long before the kingdoms of the Diadochi arose.
Questions of a different nature now dominated the intellectual life of the time
and the prominence of prose is only an external symptom of this tendency. The
problem of education takes the forefront and is strong evidence of the legacy
of the sophists, whether it is their opponent Plato or Gorgias’ follower Isocrates
who occupies himself with it. The controversy between these two men is the
most important event in this period and in the history ofideas; they began the
antagonism between philosophy and rhetoric in their claim on the education of
the young. The very importance of this fact shows how much ground had been
lost by politics as it was understood in the fifth century. The development against
which Aristophanes had protested is irresistibly brought to its completion. The
idealization of the old order in rhetorical panegyrics and the extremist attempts
of philosophers to replace it with an entirely new construction both emphasize
that in this century of transition Greek life was reaching out for new fields.!
Plato, the son of Ariston, son of Aristocles, was born during the archonship
of Diotimus, which lasted from the summer of 428 until that of the next year.
Nothing further is known of his family, but what we know of Plato’s relatives
on his mother’s side forms an essential part of his biography. His mother
Perictione was descended from old aristocratic stock, to which Solon was
related in a manner which cannot be precisely ascertained. Her cousin was
Critias, whom we know as the head of the Thirty and as a versatile author; her
brother was Charmides, who became disastrously involved in the politics of the
Thirty. Both appear, like Plato’s brothers Adimantus and Glaucon, among the
characters of his dialogues, one of which is called Charmides. Speusippus, Plato’s
successor as leader of the Academy, was the son of Potone, Plato’s sister. After
Ariston’s death Perictione married the rich and distinguished Pyrilampes, who
had been a member of Pericles’ circle. From different sides we observe Plato’s
close ties with the world of the old Attic nobility, and even though this did not
make him narrow-minded, he brought along certain basic attitudes which
remain discernible in his work until the end.
Our knowledge of the profuse Platonic literature of the ancient world is only
fragmentary. Already his most intimate students like Aristotle, Speusippus,
Xenocrates and Philip of Opus wrote about him, their work being chiefly
encomiastic. We may assume that even at that time the foundation was being
laid for the conception of Plato as the ‘divine man’ which prevails in the later
literature of Neoplatonic convention.” It is also the dominant element in the
oldest extant biography of Plato, four short introductory chapters to Apuleius

* On the distinctive traits of the 4th century: V. EHRENBERG, ‘Epochs of Greek History’
Greece and Rome. Sec. Ser. 7, 1960, I10.
* For biographical material wiLAMow1Tz (v. inf.), 2. 1. The biography from Diog
Laert. in the Festschrift Juvenes dum sumus. Basel 1907. Additional in the ed. by G. F.HERMANN
506
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
of Madaura’s unfinished work De Platone et eius Dogmate. To the same stream of
tradition belong the biography which occupies the third book of Diogenes
Laertius, one by the Neoplatonic Olympiodorus, an anonymous one preceding
the mpodeyouweva tis TAadtwvos dirocodias in a Viennese manuscript and the
articles in Suidas and Hesychius. Of other scattered source material mention
must be made at least of the Herculanean papyrus (Index acad. philos.) with some
notes on Plato’s life. Various authors, especially Athenaeus (5, 217 a. 11, 504 e)}
reveal that there existed a literature which was hostile to Plato and which con-
tributed gossip of the most diverse nature about the philosopher’s person.
Little can be learned from the tradition recorded here, but of the thirteen
Letters ' which have been preserved under his name the seventh is of decisive
importance for our image of Plato’s life. Distrust against tradition of this
nature has been roused since in 1699 Richard Bentley ushered in a new era in
historical and literary criticism with his treatment of various letters, notably of
those alleged to be of the Sicilian tyrant Phalaris. No doubt a large part of the
letters attributed to Plato are also spurious. But the long struggle about the
authenticity of this evidence has resulted in the conviction, nowadays shared by
many scholars, that three of these letters are definitely Plato’s. The Third Letter
is a circular meant to establish a friendship between two former students of the
Academy, Erastus and Coriscus, who were at that time in Scepsis in the Troad,
and Hermias, the tyrant of Atarneus. This is the Hermias who became important
in Aristotle’s life and who gave him his niece Pythias as his wife. The Seventh
Letter contains the answer to the Sicilian supporters of Dion who ask for advice
after the latter’s death and is devoted to an account which the old Plato gives of
the three Sicilian voyages and the hopes and disappointments connected with
them. Even if this letter should not be genuine,? it would still have great value
as a source, since it was certainly written with a precise knowledge of the condi-
tions. The Eighth Letter also contains advice to Dion’s partisans, but presupposes
a somewhat later situation.*
Plato received the careful musical and gymnastic education of an Athenian
of a distinguished family, which gave him the intimate knowledge, even if it
was to become a problem for him later, of the poetry of his people, as we know
from his dialogues. We may trust the tradition that he who demons.rated his
very high artistic skill in his writings and who also speaks to us in some epi-
grams,‘ turned to verse in his early years. Of special significance is the informa-
tion about some tragedies which he wrote, but which he burnt when Socrates
entered his life. Before this decisive period he became acquainted with Heraclitus’
doctrine of the eternal flow of all things around us through the somewhat
peculiar Cratylus after whom he named a dialogue.’
1 —, HOWALDT, Ziirich 1951, in Greek and German. Translated and introduced by 1.
IRMSCHER, Berlin 1960. 2 So recently c. MUttER, Arch.f.Philos. 3, 1949/50, 251.
3 EVA BAER, Die historischen Aufgaben der Platonbriefe 7 und 8 im Urteil der modernen For-
schung seit Ed. Meyer. Diss. Humboldt-Univ. Berlin 1957.
+ D. fasc. 1, p. 102 with bibl. for separating out much spurious material.
5 Diog. Laert., who 3. 6 dates the association with Cratylus after Socrates’ death, merits
no belief against Aristotle, Met. A 6. 987 a 32.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

In his Seventh Letter (324 c) Plato speaks of his active participation in the
political movements of his youth. When the collapse brought the Thirty into
power, one of whom was his uncle Critias, certainly one of the most impressive
figures of his adolescence, he hoped with the ready belief of youth for a new
establishment of law and justice. What followed was worse, however, than
anything before, and what caused him the deepest repugnance was the authori-
ties’ attempt to make Socrates the tool of their terror. When the tyrants fell and
the democracy rose again, Plato was prepared, more than at any other time of
his life, to come to terms with it and to co-operate in it. But he soon received
the greatest shock from this quarter. Socrates, to whom he had been whole-
heartedly attached for years, who meant for him the way of the good life, died
in 399 through a verdict which made him the victim of reactionary resentment.
At that time Plato saw the politics of his native town separated from his thought
by an abyss which could no longer be bridged. In future his life belonged to
philosophy and the search for a form of human society based upon it.
After Socrates’ death Plato together with other of the Master’s disciples spent
some time at Megara with Euclides; this did not, however, mean that they had
taken refuge there. He cannot have stayed there long. He is reported to have
been engaged in military service twice and this can be related to the Corinthian
war and the years 395 and 394.
In the ten years after Socrates’ death Plato wrote his early dialogues including
the Gorgias. Then follows an important break in his career, his voyage to the
South of Italy and Sicily, upon which he embarked in the early part of 390 and
389 and from which he returned to Athens in the summer of 388. A much dis-
puted problem of Plato’s biography is connected with this voyage. Numerous
ancient notices! make it into a kind of world tour and it is often clear that an
attempt is made to link Platonic philosophy with the wisdom of the East. Much
of this such as a sojourn in India or with the Magi is not now taken seriously by
anybody. But even Wilamowitz, in his book on Plato, wanted to havea pro-
longed stay in Egypt and Cyrene considered as an historical fact. The evidence
is well founded but it does not begin until Cicero (De Rep. 1. 16, De Fin. 5. 87).
Plato’s own silence and that of other sources such as the Herculanean Academic
papyrus obtain some importance and one is inclined to believe that the stay in
Egypt was invented for the sake of the old wisdom of its priests and fone
passages in the dialogues, and the one in Cyrene because of the mathematician
Theodorus.
What is certain is that Plato went to Southern Italy before going to Sicily;
there he made the acquaintance of Pythagoreanism in a process of rejuvenation
mainly connected with the name of Archytas of Tarentum, who was important
both as a statesman? and a scholar; through his mathematical studies he directed
Pythagoreanism more firmly towards science. We can no longer tell how Plato’s
connections with Archytas and che inspiration he received from Pythagorean
circles were distributed over the individual voyages. At all events the importance
Material and bibl, in J. KERSCHENSTEINER, Pl. und der Orient. Stuttg. 1945, 44.
NYS) Zip
508
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
of these facts for Plato’s development should be valued very highly. Look-
ing back in his Seventh Letter (326 d) Plato wonders whether it was coincidence
or divine providence which led him to Sicily. Actually his arrivat at the island
was the beginning of a tragedy which was to find its conclusion only some
decades later. When Plato came to Syracuse Dionysius I (405-367) was at the
height of his power. Elected strategos with full authority at the age of twenty-
five, he had liberated the Sicilian Greeks from the deadly menace of Cartha-
ginian oppression and ensured for them, as a political power, the leading posi-
tion in the Hellenic world, of which his heavily fortified Syracuse had become
the greatest city. In later times the character of his tyranny has obscured his
great merits, and Plato will also have seen him mainly as a tyrant, for his experi-
ences in Syracuse, about which there are a wealth of anecdotes, must no doubt
have influenced the image of the tyrant which he draws in the Republic. But in
Syracuse he also met Dion, the ruler’s brother-in-law.! The Seventh Letter (327 a)
tells how momentous this meeting was and what impression this young man,
who was prepared to alter his whole life, made on Plato. Strained relations with
the ruler were inevitable, and so he had Plato removed by ship and put ashore
in Aegina. At that time the island was at war with Athens and served as the base
of operations of a Spartan fleet. Plato was in danger of being sold as a prisoner of
war, but an acquaintance from Cyrene, Anniceris by name, paid the ransom.
The story was embroidered in many ways and it is subject to a great deal of
suspicion.”
Upon his return Plato founded his school and with it a tradition which was
to remain influential for nine centuries until the dissolution of the Academy by
Justinian (529).3 At no more than half an hour’s walk northwest from Dipylon
lay a gymnasium which, like the plain, was called Academea, apparently after
che pre-Hellenic guardian spirit Academus or Hecademus. In the Clouds (1005)
Aristophanes makes the Just Argument tell in beautiful verse how young men of
good breeding trained there running under the sacred olive trees. Plato began to
teach in this gymnasium, but he next bought a piece of land in the neighbour-
hood; from this the name of the Academy was immortalized. Presumably Plato
lived there himself and gathered his scholars round him. Later, when the
Academy had been considerably enlarged, many stories were told about an
exedra, a semicircular seat. Basing himself on the topographical indications of
Cicero in the impressive account (De Fin. 5. 1) of his visit to the Academy during
his Athenian student days, and on those in Livy (31. 24), Pan. Aristophron has
been digging for the remains of the Academy since 1930. The gymnasium has
been uncovered and, although Plato’s house has not been found, a stone with
1 wy. BERVE, Dion. Abh. Akad. Mainz. Geistes- u. sozialw. Kl. 1956/19. Id., “Dion, der
Versuch der Verwirklichung platonischer Staatsgedanken’. Hist. Zeitschr. 184, 1957, I.
H. BREITENBACH, Platon und Dion. Skizze eines idealpolitischen Reformversuches im Altertum.
Ziirich 1960.
2 Uy. KAHRSTEDT, Wiirzb. Jahrb. 2, 1947, 295. GERTRUDE R. LEVY. PI. in. Sicily. Lond.
1956.
3 H. HERTER, Pl.’s Akademie. 2nd ed. Bonn 1952. C. B. ARMSTRONG, ‘Pl.’s Academy’.
Proc. of the Leeds Philos. Soc. 7, 1953, 89. O. SEEL, Die plat. Akademie. Stuttg. 1953.
509
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

four names (Charmides, Ariston, Axiochus, Crito) shows that we are within its
precincts.
A shrine to the Muses! formed the sacred centre of the Academy which pos-
sibly occupied the legitimate position of a religious brotherhood. The older
philosophers may already have established a tradition by gathering a group of
students, and there was an association of Socrates’ pupils, although Plato does not
give much information about this for himself. His experience in Pythagorean
circles must have been the strongest encouragement for the decision to found a
school. Something will be said about the teaching at the Academy — of which we
know very little — in connection with the philosophy of the later Plato.
The central work of Platonic literature, the Republic, is thought to have been
produced in the ’seventies. It should not be simply called a utopia, for whilst
Plato designed his plan for the ideal state, he was aware of the difficulties of its
realization, though he did not fully renounce such a possibility. We do not know
what to think of the various reports? that Greck cities wished to have Plato as a
law-giver, but we do know of one serious attempt to imbue an actual state with
the spirit of his philosophy. In 367 Dionysius I was succeeded by his son of the
same name. His father had kept him far from politics, and when the talented
young man took the reins no one could see where the journey would lead. It
was under these conditions that Dion wrote to Plato, urgently suggesting that
now was the time for him to fill the Syracusan realm with his spirit. Even if
Plato has not himself written the words of the Seventh Letter in which he justifies
the decision for the second voyage, they may yet be considered the correct
expression of his purpose to match philosophical theory with political action
and so to overcome the contrast between a theoretical and a practical mode of
life which had arisen since the sophists. When he came to Syracuse in 366, the
reception was festive and promising. So was the beginning, but soon those
court-circles which were concerned about their influence regained the upper
hand and succeeded in rousing Dionysius’ suspicions of Dion to such a degree
that the latter was exiled. Plato, however, remained the uneasy guest of the
ruler until he could start on the voyage home in 365, but not without having
to promise that he would return after the conclusion of the war which Dionysius
had to wage just then. Dion was also to be permitted to return. During the next
few years the tyrant urged Plato to come; meanwhile he had also attracted the
Socratics Aeschines and Aristippus to his court. Dion himself was interested in
this voyage, since he expected mediation from it for his return; the friends in
Athens and the South of Italy demanded it point-blank and when Dion sent a
trireme to Athens in the early part of 361 to fetch Plato, he decided with a
heavy heart to ‘venture for the third time into the narrows of Scylla in order to
cross the evil Charybdis again’ (Ep. 7. 345 d, after Od. 12. 428). This time things
took an even worse course than before. The tyrant’s philosophical interests
proved to be a passing fancy and with Dion’s fortune as a mortgage he played
an evil game, finally forcing Plato to live outside the palace among the
‘ p. BOYANCE, Le Culte des Muses chez les philosophes grecs. Paris 1937, 261.
2 Aelian, Var. Hist. 2. 42; 12. 30 Plut. Mor. 779 d. Diog: Laert. 32 23.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

mercenaries. It was with difficulty that in the early summer of 360 he was given
an opportunity, through the intervention of Archytas, to return home. Dion,
who saw all hopes of an agreement wrecked, prepared for a violent solution.
Plato refused personal participation, but allowed him to recruit from among the
members of the Academy. In 357 Dion occupied Syracuse and forced Dionysius
to flee. For four years he carried on his rule under increasing difficulties, as his
authoritarian plans involved him in opposition from the democratic camp. In
354 he fell a victim to a conspiracy backed by Callippus, the Academic who had
gone to Syracuse as Dion’s partisan. The moving distichs which Plato com-
posed as his friend’s epitaph are evidence of his deep grief over his death.!
The last part of Plato’s life was given, without an interruption in his work, to
the last dialogues, especially the Laws, and to his teaching in the Academy. He
died at the age of81 (348/47). According to Pausanias (1. 30, 3) he was buried in
the vicinity of the Academy.
The systematic collection of Plato’s writings in a complete edition did not
take place until some time after his death. The intrusion of spurious works,
inevitable in itselfinview of the fame of his name, was considerably encouraged
by this delay. Apart from a great deal that can be left out with certainty, there
are dialogues on which the verdict is not yet definite. The corpus contained
in the manuscripts comprises in the first place nine tetralogies, in which the
Apology, thirty-four dialogues and the collection of thirteen letters are contained.
Then follow the Definitions (6pov) which were incorrectly attributed to Speu-
sippus, but which remain for us as anonymous as the seven smaller dialogues
which are next in the corpus and which were already rejected as spurious in
antiquity: On Justice, On Virtue, Demodocus, Sisyphus, Alcyon, Eryxias, Axiochus.
These writings are productions of little importance in the tradition of the
Platonic school; they merely give recapitulations or dilate upon single questions.
They represent an incidental selection from a much larger body of spurious
material, as is proved by the titles of dialogues mentioned by Diog. Laert. 3. 62:
Midon or Hippotrophus, Phaeacians, Chelidon, Hebdome, Epimenides, to which is
added Cimon mentioned by Athenaeus (506 d).
The works mentioned are rejected at the very outset from the tetralogies
transmitted as genuine, but they still contain a great deal which can be cut out
with varying degrees of certainty. The Letters have already been discussed. With
the exception of 6-8, there is not one whose authenticity can be defended with
confidence, although the Second must be given serious consideration after
Friedlander’s exposition in the new edition of his work. In the last three places
of the 4th tetrad and in the first of the following are four writings which can
be erased from the ranks of the genuine with great probability: the Second
Alcibiades, which is in complete linguistic discord with the rest; the Hipparchus,
in which the notion of avarice is treated dialectically; the Anterastae with a

1 6 D.; c. M. BowRA, Problems in Greek poetry. Oxf. 1953, no. 8.

2 Bibl. in GEFFCKEN (v. inf.), 180 with the notes; LEISEGANG (v. inf.) 2365, with particular
reference to the work done by J. PAVLU. O. GIGON, Gnom. 27, 1955, 15 authoritative on
questions of Pl.’s authenticity.
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polemic interesting for its theme, i.e. against sciolism and pure theorizing; and
the Theages,! which borrows from the Laches and from other Platonic dialogues
as well as such as the Great Alcibiades; it deals with Socrates the educator and raises
his daimonion to the realm of the gods. In these and similar cases, when Platonic
property is used with greater or smaller skill, it is difficult to reach a fairly exact
dating. It is generally wrong to go far beyond the end of the 4th century; they
are products of a time when the discussions at the Academy were still closely
allied with the Master and ventured to imitate his manner of representation.
The 4th triad opens with the (Great) Alcibiades. Its genuineness was first put to
the question by Schleiermacher and it was subsequently generally accepted that
this talk about justice and usefulness, self-knowledge and tending of the soul
between Socrates and a politically inclined Alcibiades was not from Plato’s
hand. But a scholar who is as close to Plato as Paul Friedlander? has emphatically
defended its genuineness; C. Vink followed him up with a comprehensive
investigation and A.-J. Festugitre* gives the same verdict. In spite of these
weighty opponents we remain in the ranks of the unbelievers, mainly on the
ground of what Schleiermacher described as the cheapness of the dialogue,
which contrasts it with the quality of thought in the genuine dialogues. Is this
difference great enough to banish the danger of subjectivity? We should like to
think so. Admittedly it was accepted as genuine in antiquity; the dialogue was
even valued very highly well into Neoplatonism; Proclus, Olympiodorus and
others wrote commentaries on it. The Clitophon’ is a peculiar piece of work.
The dialogue presupposes the Republic, in which Clitophon acts as Thrasy-
machus’ companion, as well as the Phaedrus. The attack on Socrates’ protreptic
originates perhaps, as Wilamowitz® thought, from a scholar of Plato’s who was
a dissatisfied deserter. The dialogue Minos, a shabby attempt at a discussion
about the law, stands close to the Hipparchus. Jaeger? suspects it to have been
written by an Academic shortly after Plato’s Laws.
The verdict on the Epinomis is difficult and not yet definite.8 In our treatment
we connect it with the Laws. In the course of time various Platonic writings,
apart from the dialogues mentioned, have been suspected; only the Greater
Hippias is at present subject to serious doubt. Since this doubt cannot be
proved to be effective (v. inf.), the work is recorded here among the genuine
ones.
Before giving an outline of the Platonic corpus as it now stands, a few
' G. KRUGER, Der Dialog Theages. Greifswald 1935. Ed.: G. AMPLO. Romie 1957. P. FRIED-
LANDER includes in his Platon the Hipparchus and the Theages among the genuine works and
attributes them to the early period (vol. 3, 2nd ed. 419).
? FRIEDLANDER (v. inf.) and Der grosse Alkibiades. Bonn 1921 and 1923.
3 Platos eerste Alcibiades. Een onderzoek naar zijn authenticiteit. Amsterdam 1939 (in chapter
1 a survey of the evaluation of the dialogue from antiquity up to FRIEDLANDER). A com-
mentary by L. G. WESTERINK, Amsterdam 1954/56.
+ Contemplation et vie contemplative selon Platon. Paris 1950.
Dh te, GAISER, Protreptik und Pardnese bei Platon. Tiib. Beitr. 40, 1959, 141, 147 considers the
authenticity. According to him the Clitophon ‘was written over the Thrasymachus’.
(Gs i) Wo BHO, 7 Eloge de la loi. Lettres d’humanité 8, 1949, 37.
S Ci DODDS (Uaiihis)s 233%
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

preliminary remarks are called for on some problems concerning the origin
and nature of his dialogues.
The dialogue, especially as it appears in the early and middle period of Plato’s
creative activity, displays a genius in its scenic structure, a directness and charm
in its conversation, a love of life, of drama and of philosophy that make it a
characteristic and inimitable work of art. One can readily sympathize with the
opinion of such scholars as Jaeger and Wilamowitz that the Socratic dialogue
is wholly Plato’s creation. The author professes the same opinion to this extent,
that the qualities of these works which have made them last for ever are Platonic
and purely Platonic. But here also we are not excused from enquiring into the
elements which they have utilized and embodied.
In the first place we have become acquainted in previous chapters, although
through pitiful traces only, with a very extensive Socratic literature in which
the dialogue form was certainly used in some cases, very probably in others.1 We
cannot prove direct dependence: all we can do is to look for any tendencies in
earlier literature which can help us to understand how the Socratic dialogue arose.
We can make neither head nor tail ofa notice preserved in Aristotle’s dialogue
On the Poets (fr. 72 R.), which tells us that one Alexamenus of Teos (otherwise
wholly unknown) wrote dialogues before the Socratics. This must come from
some piece of literary polemic, and we cannot tell what it is worth.
Gigon? has rightly traced a connection back to the sophists. It is clear that in
their particular province of antinomy the technique of conveying one’s own
opinions through question and answer played an important part. There seems
to be a core of truth in Diogenes Laertius’ statement that Protagoras — of whom
he quotes a book-title Technique of Question and Answer (réyvn €pvotiK@v) —
created the form of the Socratic dialogue. Furthermore, the whole tendency of
the Platonic dialogues is, to use Gaiser’s words, protreptic and paraenetic, i.e.
they urge the reader towards a definite form and conception of life; so that,
despite the great difference in what they teach, the influence of sophistic propa-
ganda techniques cannot be excluded. Gaiser? has gone into the question very
thoroughly. Admittedly the tradition leaves us very much in the lurch when we
look for early examples of the Platonic dialogue, and we have to be content
with guesswork;* but he does a very good service in demonstrating the basic
difference between the attitudes of sophistic and Platonic protreptic. The
Platonic Socrates does not offer to pass on a definite knowledge or skill, but he
brings about the intellectual change by showing his disciples what a wretched
thing it is to be ignorant. In the same connection we should mention Zeno of
Elea, of whom a title Disputes ("Epudes VS 29 A 2) has been transmitted, and
whom Aristotle calls ‘the inventor of eristics’ (fr. 65 R.). A connection with the
Conversations of the Seven Sages does not seem very likely.

ly. BARTOLETTI, ‘Un frammento di dialogo socratico’. Stud. It. 31, 1959, 100, on an
interesting fragment of political content which cannot be more precisely determined.
2 Sokrates. Bern 1947, 202.
3K. GAISER, Protreptik und Pardnese bei Platon. Tiib. Beitr. 40, 1959.
4 Cf. EB. DE STRYCKER, Gnom. 34, 1962, 13.
513
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The dramatic element in the Platonic dialogues leads automatically to a

further association. Many things, not the least his resistance against it, point to
the influence which the stage had on Plato, who himself once used to write
tragedies. It would be a mistake to call Plato’s dialogues comedies, but there
can be no doubt about the strong influence of comedy.' The verse of Epi-
charmus, who appears in the Theaetetus (152 €) as the great comic poet, shows
great affinity with the game of question and answer of the Platonic dialogues.”
Plato valued Sophron’s prose mimes highly and used to keep a copy under his
pillow. We need not think that communications between Athens and Sicily
were so tenuous that Plato first had to travel there to come to know and value
this poet. It should be noted that Aristotle, in his Poetics (1. 1447 d 9), ranks the
mimes of Sophron and Xenarchus with the Socratic dialogues (Adyor).
The lingering influence of Socrates’ actual method of enquiry should be taken
into serious consideration, though there is no need to accept direct copying or
the use of written notes, as Rudolf Hirzel does, or to give serious credit to the
fiction in the introduction of the Theaetetus.
This creation with its rich ancestry, fashioned by Plato into such an inde-
pendent form of art, occupies a peculiar position in the whole of his philosophy.
We come up against the paradox that the man whose dialogues have not their
equal in Greek literature, eloquently proclaims in a lengthy section of the
Phaedrus (275 ¢ ff.) that writing has little value and that the mute book is inferior
to the live Logos which is astir in the soul of the student. This throws some
light on the astounding statement of Plato in the Seventh Letter (341 c) that he
has never written about the object of his aspirations and will never do so in the
future. There are also the words about the spark which after a long life of
common effort suddenly flashes across and kindles the light in the soul. So from
another point of view these dialogues, which are filled with a profound moral
seriousness and the true love of a scholar, are merely a decorative accessory to
the essence of Plato’s philosophy. The nature of these dialogues, which nowhere
attempt to formulate a definite system, explains largely why individual prob-
lems are only touched upon superficially, why we are not infrequently duped by
logical tricks, and why the borders between logos and myth become vague.
Which does not, of course, mean to say that this varied work was without a
definite purpose.* Presently, when we discuss the lecture On the Good, we shall
have occasion to refer to the question which has lately dominated research on
Plato, whether there is at the back of the dialogues a doctrine passed on orally,
whose relation to the published writings could be elucidated.

_ 1 E, HOFFMANN, ‘Die literarischen Voraussetzungen des Platonsverstindnisses’. Zeitschr.

J. philos. Forsch. 2, 1947, 472. Minimizing this K. GAISER (v. sup.) 22 f.
> VS 23 B 1 ff. with notes on the question of authenticity. A. THIERFELDER, ‘Zu einem
Bruchstiick des Epicharmos’. Festschr. Snell. Munich 1956, 773. On Sophron KAIBEL, Com.
(ik Jefe Ts, joy WEA TE.
3 Der Dialog. 1. Leipz. 1895.
+ R. SCHAERER, La Question platonicienne. Etude sur les rapports de la pensée et de l’expression
dans les dialogues. Neuchatel 1938. Following Hegel J. sreNzeEL, KI. Schr. 1957, 312 charac-
terizes the movement of perception as the theme of the Platonic dialogues. hie
514
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

A characteristic of this sublime Hight of fancy! is the art of the introduction,

the listening to a story of what others have told, as well as the tendency to
remove the scene far into the past without worrying about anachronisms. Thus
in the Symposium they are celebrating the Lenaean victory which Agathon won
in 416, in the Parmenides the grey-haired Eleatic meets with the young Socrates.
The deliberate discord between content and setting is particularly exciting when
the dialectic thrusts lead deep into the theory of ideas from situations placed in
the distant past.
The chronology of Plato’s writings presents a problem which is as difficult
as it is methodologically attractive. It has a bearing on the sport with the back-
ground of time to which we just referred, so that hardly any assistance can be
found within the dialogues for the purpose of dating; nor does the anecdotal
tradition on Plato offer any help. Thus it is very hard to answer the very first
question, that of the relation between Socrates’ death and Plato’s literary
activity. Socrates promises in the Apology (39 c) that others, whom he had
restrained so far, would continue the work of testing people. If we take this
sharply as a vaticinatio ex eventu, this passage supports the view that Plato did not
begin his Socratic writings until after 399, and the inference is that the shock of
this year put his stylus into motion. But these arguments are not conclusive and
those scholars who, like Wilamowitz, dated the first dialogues earlier, cannot
be decisively refuted.?
For the task of determining the relative chronology of the Platonic writings,
Schleiermacher’s 3 attempt is still of fundamental importance. The principle of
his research is the internal connection between the individual dialogues in which
Plato methodically evolved the guiding thoughts which were present from the
very beginning. Neither Schleiermacher’s arrangement in its detail nor the
extreme rejection of internal factors of development could be upheld; what
does remain has been outlined by Jaeger (2. 152): the demand not to lose sight
of the coherence of the whole, the movement towards a final goal which
pervades the whole work. We shall presently have occasion to show how strong
Schleiermacher’s influence still is in the most recent literature on Plato (Kramer).
Next, K. F. Hermann,* in contrast to Schleiermacher, placed the idea of an
internal development of Plato’s philosophy in the foreground. Although this
principle was subsequently exaggerated to such a degree that it amounted to
tearing up Plato’s work to pieces, research can now no longer be imagined
without it. The centre will always be taken by the evolution of the theory of
ideas, as for instance in Ross. Whether this theory must be assumed to have been
™ On the za:dfa-character of the dialogues G. J. DE vriES, Spel bij Plato. Amsterdam 1949.
Cf. also H.-J. KRAMER, Arete bei Platon und Aristoteles. Abh. Akad. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl.
1959/6, 461 f. 468.
2 p. FRIEDLANDER, Platon, 2nd ed. vol. 3. Berl. 1960, 423 tends to put the earliest writings
in the sth century; in the note he quotes the powerful opposition of ED. MEYER and JOH.
GEFFCKEN, as well as the doubts of w. JAEGER, which are not, however, based on arguments.
No importance can be attached to the anecdote in Diog. Laert. 3. 35, that Socrates read
Plato’s Lysis with surprise.
3 Pl.’s Werke 1/1/1804. 4 Geschichte und System der plat. Philosophie. 1, 1839.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

present in Platonic writings from the very beginning is a problem which will
occupy us with the works of the middle period (Symp., Phaed.).
A chronology based on the internal development would often have had to
remain uncertain, if the statistical analysis of language had not come to the
assistance. A start was made by L. Campbell in the introduction to his edition
of the Sophistes and Politicus (1867), in which he combined these dialogues
together with the Timaeus, Critias, Philebus and the Laws into a late group.
Independently from him W. Dittenberger' opened up German research in this
field. His successors, of whom at least C. Ritter and H. v. Arnim must be
mentioned, made important progress, in which the statistical recording of
certain forms of the affirmative played the most important part. Exaggerations
were not lacking and the method was no doubt overworked when it was
pushed into decimals. A linguistic scholar like P. Kretschmer? subjected it to
basic criticism, but its merits are, within certain limits, undeniable.
The prudent use of internal and external criteria has led to a view of the
chronological order of the Platonic writings which may be largely considered
as definitive. This means that large groups could be demarcated as works of the
early, mature and late creative periods, and that there are no restless wanderers
in this system. On the other hand it is peculiar to the nature of this method that
a precise arrangement of the works inside the groups is difficult and has in most
cases little prospect of success. This picture — definitive division into groups and
uncertain arrangement in detail - can easily be observed when studying the
inventory of the most important attempts at ordering which Gigon presents in
his bibliographical introduction to Plato, and Ross in the preface to his book on
the theory of ideas. In our arrangement, for which we, with others, select the
Sicilian voyages as the caesurae, we follow Friedlander with regard to the late
composition of the Apology and Crito, while we begin with Laches under the
influence of Steidle’s work on this dialogue;* all this is done, however, with
the reservation that in this arrangement we cannot be perfectly certain of all
the details. We refer particularly to the difficulty of allotting to the Protagoras
a definite place among the earliest dialogues, and to the Cratylus in a later group.
Between Socrates’ death and the first Sicilian voyage we place: Laches,
Charmides, Euthyphro, Lysis, Protagoras, Hippias Minor, Ion, Hippias Maior,
Apology, Crito, and the Gorgias as definitely the last. Those who believe the first
book of the Republic to be a separate early dialogue with the hypothetical title
Thrasymachus will have to insert it here in the vicinity of the Lysis. Between the
first and the second voyages we place: Meno, Cratylus, Euthydemus, Menexenus,
Symposium, Phaedo, Republic, Phaedrus, Parmenides and Theaetetus. This group
displays evidence of the strains and stresses in Plato’s life, as we would expect
i Ferns TO 18815321. 2 Glotta 20, 1932, 232.
* Acceptable to Pp. FRIEDLANDER, (v. sup.) 415. The same line of research is followed in
E. DE PLACES, Etudes sur quelques particules de liaison chez Platon. Paris 1920.
* rR. BOHME, Von Sokrates zur Ideenlehre. Beobachtungen zur Chronologie des platonischen
Friihwerks. Diss. Bernenses 5. 1, 9. 1959 disagrees sharply with the dating defended here.
He puts the Gorgias at the beginning together with the Crito and the Apology and makes one
group of Laches, Protagoras, Menon, and Phaedo.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

under the circumstances which we know of in his biography. The works from
the Symposium to the Phaedrus represent the centre and peak; the preceding ones
still form part of the dialogues of his ascent and the following ones belong to
those of the later stages. The Sophistes and the Politicus are placed between the
second and third voyages, after his last return Philebus, Timaeus, Critias and
Laws, as well as the Seventh Letter.
The first three dialogues of our series form a particularly close unity in their
purpose and the trend of the talk. In the Laches! the generals differ on the
subject of fencing exercises in heavy armour; they begin to discuss it with
Socrates, but the talk soon turns to the question of what the real nature of
courage is. In the Charmides, in which Critias figures too, the scene is built up
around Plato’s uncle Charmides who appears here as a boy of greatly admired
beauty. The subject is the nature of sophrosyne, common sense, which under-
stands man’s limits and adjusts its actions accordingly. In recent attempts to find
an historical foundation for psychosomatic medicine an important part is being
played by the remarks about Zalmoxis’ doctrine that all the weal and woe of
the body find their origin in the soul (P. Lain-Entralgo et al.). In the Euthyphro*
Socrates is on his way to the court-house where he wants to enquire about the
accusation lodged against him by Meletus, when he encounters the seer Euthy-
phro, a young man whose notion of justice is so fanatical that he is about to
indict his own father for causing the death of a slave through negligence. The
complex of problems connected with this action leads the debate on to the
nature of piety. The Lysis} can be joined on to it, although many scholars put
it later. In a conversation with two boys Socrates enquires about philia, the
loving association of people in a variety of contexts, but particularly in friend-
ship.
In these dialogues the direct relation with the Socrates shown by Aristotle’s
evidence is most obvious. He seeks a definition, passing during the process
through several stages of attempt and rejection without achieving his object;‘
he aims at the practical, since the gaining of knowledge about things is supposed
to be the guarantee for correct action. We are inclined to assume a similar origin
for the constant — and very often far-fetched — analogies taken from the realm
of artisans and professions. But these dialogues also display features which
prepare the way for Plato’s later philosophy. The purpose of the question ré
éorw is the understanding of something all-comprising (we should not be too
ready to use an expression such as concept, borrowed from our logic) which is
both a unity identical with itself and as such the archetype for separate pheno-
mena. Already in the Euthyphro the words eldos and idéa (5 d. 6 de) are used,
1 w, STEIDLE, ‘Der Dialog L. und Pl.’s Verhaltnis zu Athen in den Friihdialogen’. Mus.
Helv. 7, 1950, 129.
2 Q. GIGON, ‘Pl.’s Euth.’. Westdstl. Abhandlungen R. Tschudi zum 70. Geburtstag. Wies-
baden 1954, 6.
3 A. W. BEGEMANN, Plato’s Lysis. Onderzoek naar de plaats van den dialoog in het oeuvre.
Diss. Amsterdam 1960.
4 w. BROCKER, Gnom. 30, 1958, 512 is excellent on the elenctic ofthe early dialogues.
5 On their history ross (v. inf.), 13.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

but they do not as yet signify transcendental essences separated from the world
of the senses; but the beginning of such a belief is unmistakable. The thought
of the unity of all virtues becomes more and more prominent, which unity is
expressed in the good as the final goal and final criterion.
The elements related to the mime prevail strongly in the introductory section
of the Protagoras.! The studious Hippocrates urges Socrates at daybreak to
introduce him to the sophist; the two have a preliminary discussion; there is
the description of the dignified bearing of the great sophist at the house of the
hospitable Callias; all this (presented together with the rest of the dialogue as
Socrates’ story) is done with the greatest liveliness. In the great rhetorical duel
of Socrates versus Protagoras the question of the teachability of dper7 is placed
in the centre. This word cannot be suitably translated, since the meaning of
‘virtue’ in its modern connotation is restricted to the province of ethics,
whereas we should at least add the idea of usefulness or suitability, both ethical
and technical. Such usefulness is connected with activity in the civic community;
Socrates doubts its teachability, Protagoras answers with the myth of the
origin of the state of which we learned (p. 345 f.) when dealing with the sophists,
and, being able to turn his hand to anything, he follows it up with a logos. In
the course of the dialogue Socrates energetically pushes into the foreground the
enquiry into the unity of all separate virtues which is already in the background
of the early aporetic dialogues. As an intermezzo there is an interpretation of a
scolion of Simonides’ (4 D.) on the hardship of true virtue,” done by both sides
in a very arbitrary manner. Socrates subjects the separate virtues couple by
couple to the evidence of their identity, opposes the thesis that in the final
analysis virtue is knowledge of the good and thus arrives at the admission of its
teachability, which meanwhile has become doubtful to Protagoras. The final
statement that things have been turned upside down and that the enquiry after
the nature of aper7) must be taken up again is to be taken as Plato’s own to the
effect that this dialogue wants to offer dialectic movement but no definite
results. It shows, more than elsewhere, the urgency of the problem of the sudden
transitions and mistakes in thinking which are either evidence of a logic which
is still faulty,> or of an irony, a joking deception, which requires to be under-
stood as such.
In the Lesser Hippias such a large part is played by dialectical brawling with
logically contestable means that many critics of the dialogue want to consider
it as a jest. The manner in which Socrates plays along with the smatterer
Hippias in two passages of the debate must certainly be understood as a satire.
The confusion of the notions ‘better’ in a technical sense and ‘better’ in a moral
sense leads to quite unbelievable results in the course of an enquiry for a more
' 0. GIGON, ‘Stud. zu Pl.’s Protagoras’. Phyllobolia fiir P. von der Miihll. Basel 1945, QI,
partly with dubious application of analytical and source-critical methods. F. DIRLMEIER and
H. SCHAROLD, Protagoras. Munich 1959 (with comm.).
* H. GUNDERT, ‘Die Simonides-Interpretation in Pl.’s Prot.’. Festschr. Regenbogen. Heidelb.
1952, 71.
3 On such elements in Plato: J. M. BOCHENSKY, Ancient Formal Logic. Amsterdam 1951.
Also a great deal in LEISEGANG (v. inf.).
518
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

lofty appraisal of Achilles and Odysseus, of the truthful or the deceitful. The
question why Plato allows the train to derail like this is a difficult problem, but
the central question, whether there is a knowledge of the good commensurable
with the technical knowledge of the artisan, the steersman or the general, can
on the whole be followed.
The Jon" also ends up in two dialectical lines which are followed by fairly
long discourses by Socrates. He points out to the self-confident rhapsode Ion
that his claim to be able to say clever things about Homer’s poetry is misplaced,
since he is lacking in technical knowledge (réyvm) and understanding (émvor/pun)
for this purpose. Significantly Plato’s future arguments on the problems of
poetry are anticipated in the parts in which the divinely inspired enthusiasm of
the poet is contrasted with a knowledge based on technical ability as belonging
in a totally different category.
Many reasons were advanced against the authenticity of the Hippias Maior,
but none that are conclusive.” Linguistic statistics date it later than we do here,
in the vicinity of the Phaedo. In terms of content it still belongs to the aporetic
dialogues with their search for a definition. Hippias ‘the beautiful’ — the words
significantly occur at the beginning — is shown in the splendour of his political
and educational mission; by announcing a particularly ‘beautiful’ lecture he
sets off the talk about the nature of the beautiful. Here too the search is for the
one thing which, indivisible in itself, is the cause of the quality of beauty in all
the separate phenomena which it approaches. Here too neither its ontological
nature is clearly defined nor the nature of its relationship to the separate
phenomena, but the determined enquiry after the beautiful in itself (286 d et al.)
through which every individual beautiful thing has this quality, points to
hardening of thought compared with the first aporetic dialogues. We are face
to face with the formulation of the theory of ideas.
We mentioned earlier (p. 499)? that Plato’s Apology is a free invention and
forms part of a rich apologetic Socratic literature. E. Wolff*+ has shown that
this form of Attic forensic rhetoric was so stimulated and reshaped under the
influence of contemporary literature in its highest forms that it turned into the
sage’s self-portrait. Moreover, the inexorable search of the man who, conscious
of his own ignorance, destroys the would-be knowledge of others was lifted
into the realm of religious activity. The reply of Delphi to Chaerephon’s
question raised Socrates above the mass of those whose beliefs were without
roots, and the daimonion in his breast also testifies to his vocation. Three
speeches are united in the Apology: the actual speech for the defence which brings
t Ann. ed. by W. J. VERDENIUS, Zwolle 1953. H. DILLER, ‘Probleme des plat. Ion’. Herm.
83, 1955, I7I. X. FLASHAR, Der Dialog Ion als Zeugnis plat. Philosophie. Berlin 1959 (Akad.
Berl. Schr. d. Sekt.f.Altertumsw. 14). ;
2 On the defence by M. soreTH, Der plat. Dialog H. maior. Zet. 6. Munich 1953, cf. 0.
GIGON, Gnom. 27, 1955, 14. ae
3 Comm. ed.: NILO CASINI, Florence 1957. A work by TH. MEYER will appear in the Tiib.
Beitr.
4 Pl.’s Ap. N. phil. Untersuch. 6, 1929. TH. MBYER, PI.’s Ap. Diss. Tiib. 1956 on formal
connections with Attic forensic oratory; cf. also K. GAISER, Tiib. Beitr. 40, 1959, 23.
S19
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

in an element of dialogue in the argument with Meletus; the proposed penalty,

first of free meals at the Prytaneum, then of a small fine, so that in each case he
merely provokes the judges.'The image of Socrates built up here by Plato is at the
same time an outspoken piece of propaganda for the life of a philosopher.
The brief dialogue Crito' provides the reasons for Socrates’ refusal to flee
from prison with the aid of his friends. The motivation is difficult, since the
point of view could be defended that Socrates’ fight would have prevented
rather than caused an injustice. Plato introduces the personified laws who speak
to oppose Socrates’ undermining the respect due to them; not the laws as such,
but their abuse, has landed him in prison; they emphasize the contract into
which a citizen who lives in a community enters with its laws. The modification
of sophistic theories on the contractual nature of the state is clear. The great
moral fervour of this dialogue must not lead us to overlook the fact that this
legalism is far removed from the aloofness from the historical polis evident in
the Republic (520 b) and even further in the Seventh Letter (326 a). The Socrates
of the Crito is more closely allied with the champion of loyalty to the law of
Xenophon’s Memorabilia than any other representation of him by Plato.
The Gorgias? concludes and at the same time carries on the early dialogues.
Three conversations, enlivened by the force of contrast, lead to results which are
outlined with much greater clarity than in the aporetic dialogues. The argument
with the sophists, which is carried on in this dialogue with considerably greater
depth than in the related Protagoras, starts with an enquiry into the nature of
their activity. Employing the method of dividing the leading ideas which is to
be so important to Plato at a later stage, but which is not yet described as
diaeresis here, Socrates determines in a conversation with Gorgias the sphere of
action of rhetoric: in the realm of justice and injustice it provides the sort of
persuasion which aims at credulous acceptance, not true knowledge. Gorgias
defends himself by pointing to men like Themistocles and Pericles and stresses
the actual power of rhetoric. He gets into difficulties in his enquiry into the
importance of knowledge in the realm of justice, so that his student Polus
intervenes. Once more the nature of rhetoric is sought through the separation
of ideas and now the result is particularly unpleasant: rhetoric does not at all
belong to those skills (réyvox) which tend the healthy and the sick body and
the healthy and the sick soul; it is a phantom of the latter and like sophistry with
which it is closely allied, it is only the practice of flattery (ey7rerpia koAakeuTiKn)
of the soul, as the practice of cleaning and cooking for the body. In the further
course of the debate might and right are opposed in the sharpest conflict.
Socrates contrasts the happiness of might with that of morality. His basically
different valuation culminates in statements which were paradoxes at the time:
to commit injustice is worse than suffering it, impunity is worse than right
atonement. Then Callicles, the third and sharpest opponent, enters; adopting

" P. HARDER, P.’s Kritik. 1934. With a Spanish transl.: MARTA RICO-GOMEZ, Madrid
LOST SUEIDEE (Uap Slate De) nate
2 Large comm. ed. by £. R. opps, Lond. 1959. V. ARANGIO-RUIZ, Gorgia. Trad. introd.
e comm. Florence 1958.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
the most extreme interpretation of natural law, he extols the superman who
knows how to enforce his will to power against the mass of the weak and their
laws. In the ensuing argument with Socrates the thetorical-sophistic and the
philosophical ideal of life enter into the sharpest conflict imaginable: the ideal
of power as the highest value against morality, the technical instruction for mob-
rule against education as the development of the best in man. Already at this
stage we find that such an education is the task of the true statesman; compared
with this ideal the great men of Athenian history are non-existent. Both in this
respect and through the determination with which the relation of the individual
to the community is put to the debate, the Gorgias can be recognized as the
precursor of the Republic.
In the final eschatological myth the metaphysical background of the dialogue
is revealed. The fate of the soul, which is the subject of the whole of Plato’s
work, is shown in a picture of the judgment of the dead which Plato’s poetical
skill has drawn with the aid of a variety of notions — especially of Orphic and
Pythagorean origin.
Although at present the Menon! is no longer considered to be a prospectus for
the foundation of the Academy, it is an important work for the shaping of the
theory of ideas because it connects the question of the teachability of virtue
raised in the Protagoras with problems of ontology and knowledge. Admittedly
the ideas do not yet occur as metaphysical entities, but when the conversation
with Menon bogs down in the attempt to comprehend the nature of virtue
through definition, Socrates helps it along with the doctrine of anamnesis which
was to become very important later. In its wanderings through the cycle of
births, in this world and the other, the soul has seen all things and has retained
the capacity of memory. The adoption of Orphic and Pythagorean elements
here is very clear. Empedocles (VS 31 B 129) said of Pythagoras that he easily
saw every detail of everything in existence during his twenty-seven life-times.
In the Meno Socrates uses a slave to demonstrate anamnesis for the task of
doubling the area of a square; the problem of a priori knowledge has entered
the scope of Platonic philosophy. The end of the dialogue seems to be at a loss
about the teachability of virtue. No certain proof has been found that ‘virtue’
can be imparted ‘naturally’ or through teaching. So it seems to come about
only through divine providence (eta polpa, 99 c), unless there should happen
to be a statesman who could train another statesman. The present dzroptia
obviously anticipates the educational state of the Republic.
The Cratylus? deals firstly of the relation of words with things. The Heraclitean
' M. SORETH, ‘Zur relativen Chronologie von Menon und Euthydemos’. Herm. 83, 1955,
377. R. G. HOERBER, ‘Plato’s Meno.’. Phronesis 5, 1960, 78. Large comm. ed. by R. S. BLUCK,
Lond. 1961. With a Span. transl. A. RUIZ DE ELVIRA, Madrid 1958.
2 £. HAAG, Pl’s Krat. Tiib. Beitr. 19, 1933. J. DERBOLAV, Der Dialog Krat. Saarbr. 1953.
C. J. CLASSEN, Sprachliche Deutung als Triebkraft platonischen und sokratischen Philosophierens.
Zet. 22. Munich. 1959. (Deals in a wide scope with etymological interpretation of diction and
with metaphors which can be condensed to terminology or parable.) On the effect of the
Cratylus on the linguistic theory of the Stoics: k. BARWICK, Probleme der stoischen Sprachlehre
und Rhetorik. Abh. Akad. Leipz. Phil.-hist. Kl. 49/3, 1957, ch. 5.
§21
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Cratylus, Plato’s first teacher, sees this relation based in the nature of things;
the Parmenidean Hermogenes believes that it is founded on convention.
In the investigation which Socrates carries out, it 1s plainly shown that the deriva-
tion of names directly from the nature of things is very dubious, and with it
the confidence that this nature can be ascertained from the words. The lengthy
section on etymology which plays an important part in this argument is largely
grotesque nonsense. The criticism of this section is difficult, because this ety-
mological jest is linked with considerable knowledge of linguistic history and
philosophy. The dialogue, which contains the largest number of problems of
the whole Corpus, finally rejects the doctrine of constant flux, and strives
towards the recognition of unchanging entities which alone render it possible
to know and name things.
The Euthydemus goes closely with the Cratylus, and may have been written
earlier. From a pedagogic situation — the boy Clinias in a gymnasium change-
room among Socrates and the sophists — Plato develops the condemnation of
sophistic methods of argument, represented here by Euthydemus and Dionyso-
dorus. In the excellently constructed dialogue the series of sophisms refuted by
Socrates is interrupted twice when the latter makes speeches urging them to
aspire after true knowledge and true arete. The persuasive propaganda of the
sophists is matched by Plato’s.
The Menexenus! is a peculiar composition. During a meeting with this man,
Socrates (399) delivers a fictional funeral oration supposedly meant for the
national memorial celebration for the fallen of the year 386; it is even alleged
to have originated from Aspasia. The praise of Athens is kept up right through
it in the rhetorical style initiated by Gorgias, but it is carried off with such
mastery and élan, that it is necessary to pay close attention to hints in the
introductory dialogue, to Plato’s attitude to the Athenian state as described in the
Seventh Letter and the deprecation of the great statesmen in the Gorgias, if one
is to see through this delightful irony. Later times failed to do this, for Cicero
(Orat. 151) reports that the oration was declaimed annually at the ceremony for
the dead. P. Friedlander’s comparison with the central speech of the Phaedrus
will be found very useful for its understanding; in this Socrates outdoes Lysias’
speech without leaving the latter’s pedestrian level. His confrontation of the
encomium on Athens with the Atlantis myth in the Critias? is also valuable. This
juxtaposition opens up a special understanding of the way in which in Plato
historical elements and overlapping norms are related. Recently increasing
attention has been paid to Plato’s treatment of history and the beginnings of a
philosophy of history in his work.3
The Symposium and the Phaedo belong together, because poetically they are
Bibl. in K. MEULI, Westdstl. Abh. (cf. p. 517, n. 2.), 64, 7. N. SCHOLL, Der platonische
Menexenos. Temi e testi 5. Rome 1959. J. v. LOWENCLAU, Der platonische Menexenos, Tiib.
Beitr. 41. Stuttg. 1961.
2 Platon, 2nd ed. vol. 3, Berl. 1960, 357.
3 R. G. BURY, ‘Pl. and History’. Class. Quart. 45, 1951, 86. R. WEIL, L’ “Archéologie’ de
PI. Et. ef Comm. 32. Paris 1959, comparing the philosopher’s method with the historian’s.
K. GAISER, Pl. und die Geschichte. Stuttg. 196r.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

the most perfect of Plato’s creations and because in them the central themes of
the Platonic theory of ideas' break through most clearly. We must now
determine our position with regard to a vexing question. Plato regards ideas as
transcendental unities, separate from the things of the world of the senses and
leading a permanent and unchanging existence, yet at the same time being the
original form and the original cause of physical phenomena. Now is this
doctrine at the back of Plato’s dialogues, or was it developed only in the course
of his philosophical activity? Basing ourselves upon the careful analysis of Plato’s
work by David Ross, we adopt the second position; in our discussion of the
earlier dialogues we have already pointed to the various beginnings and pre-
liminary elements.?
Aristotle (Met. A 6, 987 a 32; cf. M 9. 1086 a 37) gives a representation of the
theory of ideas which probably simplifies construction but does not correctly
single out the essential. According to him the young Plato became acquainted,
through the Heraclitean Cratylus, with the doctrine of the flux of all things
comprehensible to the senses which do not permit true knowledge. Socrates,
however, led him to the question of the general and the permanent in the realm
of ethics. Thus he came to the separation of the sensory from the intelligible
world; he settled the ideas in the latter, connecting things perceptible by the
senses with them by means of ‘participation’ (uéBeéis). The Pythagorean
conception of the nature of things as being analogous to numbers served for his
model in this. The greatest difficulty of the Platonic theory of ideas is in this
notion of ‘participation’. This is also supported by the vagueness of expression
in the Phaedo (100 d ff.), where the problematic relation between the idea and
the individual thing appears as zrapovola or Kowwvia, weTadoyeots or peTaAap-
Bavew. This is also the point of Aristotle’st rudest attack (Met. A 9. 991 a 20),
when, though mentioning no names, he speaks of empty phrases and poetical
metaphors. It is probably also the reason why the problem of the chorismos has
remained the centre of Platonic criticism in a way which far outweighs its
importance. In the face of it one is liable to forget what the Platonic idea has
achieved. We should like to state this achievement in a phrase of Hermann
1 It has become increasingly dubious whether one can speak of a theory of ideas. The
ideas are an essential element of Plato’s philosophy, but they cannot be considered as the
whole of his ontological statement. In his book which will be mentioned presently, H. J.
KRAMER removes the ideas particularly far away from the centre of Plato’s thought, which
according to him is occupied by the One. This proviso should be made, but we do not think
it necessary to speak of the theory of ideas only between quotation marks, as was done
first by w. PATER in his book PI. and Platonism, 1893, whose example was followed at times
by A. E. TAYLOR and others.
2 The Scottish school, who claim that Plato’s doctrine is Socrates’ up to the Republic, was
mentioned in connection with it. Their tenets are echoed to a certain extent by R. c.
LopGE, The Philosophy of Pl. Lond. 1956, but have no longer any influence.
3 Cf. H. E. CHERNISS, Aristotle’s Criticism of Pl. and the Academy. 1. Baltimore 1944, who
lays the basis for the view that Aristotle is no unconditional authority for our interpretation
of Plato, but criticizes on the basis of his own system; on the other hand he goes too far
in his devaluation of Aristotle’s information. We also refer in this context to Gigon’s essay
in Mus. Helv. 16, 1959, 174 mentioned in the chapter on Socrates.
4 CHERNISS (v. prev. n.), ROSS (Vv. inf.), 165.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Kleinknecht’s:! ‘. . . to make the reality in which man exists recognisable and

comprehensible in connection with what it truly is’. Since Plato, man has
known an above and a below which is not spatial nature and which remains
withdrawn from his individual perspective.
Aristotle’s sketch must be at least completed with a reference to the funda-
mental importance of Parmenides’ ontology for Plato;? there can be no doubt
that he influenced Plato through his doctrine of a pure, intelligible and indivis-
ible being. Recently H. J. Kramer? has developed a conception of Platonic
philosophy in which the Parmenidean One as the ontological principle stands
temporally at the beginning, but has a central position according to its impor-
tance. According to this conception the idea came in later between the One as
the primary substance and the separate, individual things. Since Plato confronted,
from the very beginning, the primary substance of the One with the dyadic
principle of smallness-bigness and fitted the cosmos of the ideas in between
primary substance and the world of sensory appearances, he managed to form a
universal ontological conception of reality. In our discussion of the lecture Of
the Good (p. 540) we shall have to refer to the related questions of the extent
to which we can grasp an esoteric doctrine of Plato’s and in how far we must
assume a development in his thought. Aristotle points out another important
factor in this section by stressing the significance of mathematics for Plato’s
path to the absolute.+ Plato placed his mathematical structures between the
ideas, with which they shared permanency, and matter, with which they
shared plurality. It is difficult to express this doctrine more precisely or to trace
it in the surviving writings. Against the scepticism of Cherniss, however, Ross5
has advanced good arguments in favour of Aristotle’s knowing that this view
is actually Platonic.
In the Symposium® Plato presents one of his boldest narrative situations.
Agathon’s Lenaean victory and the banquet to celebrate it must be placed in the
year 416. Plato’s work, however, introduces it as the report told many years
afterwards by a certain Apollodorus who did not take part in the symposium
himself'and who bases his story on that of a certain Aristodemus. This retrospect
into the past removes the story, which is told with great vividness, from the
actuality of every day and places it in the temporal remoteness which great
poetry needs.
In this symposium, which does without flute-girls and buffoons, the power
of Eros is celebrated in six speeches of incomparable variety and loftiness.

' “Platonisches in Homer.’ Gyimn. 65, 1958, 73.

? Cf. A. BREUNIGER, Parmenides und derfriihe Pl. Diss. Tiib. 1958 (typewr.).
3 Arete bei Platon und Aristoteles. Zum Wesen und zur Geschichte der platonischen Ontologie.
Abh. Akad. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1959/6.
4 On this K. REIDEMEISTER, Das exakte Denken der Griechen. Hamb. 1949, 45.
5 59. 64 ff. The argument seems insoluble. A. WEDBERG, PI.’s Philosophy of Mathematics.
Stockholm 1955, and G. MARTIN, Klassische Ontologie der Zahl. Cologne 1956, side with
ROSS; Opposing him is E. M. MANASSE, Philos. Rundschau. Beih. 2, 1961, 96, 149.
6 0. APELT, Das Gastmahl. Mit griech. Text neubearbeitet von A. CAPELLE. Bibl. survey by
P. WILPERT, 2nd ed. Hamb. 1960 (Philos. Bibl. 81).
524
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Phaedrus’ speech sticks to the conventional pattern with its wealth of quotations
from the poets; Pausanias adopts the manner of sophistical rhetoric to defend
the love of boys in the meaning of the ancient aristocratic ideal; the physician
Eryximachus singles out the scholar, especially the natural philosopher; Aristo-
phanes follows with a brilliant speech which forms the first climax with its
myth of the ball-shaped people who have been cut in halves and are longing
to be made whole again. Agathon the host is next with an encomium decorated
with Gorgianic tinsel; his speech serves as an interlude between those of Aristo-
phanes and Socrates. Socrates reveals Eros as a daemon between god and man
and interprets it as the desire to ensure lasting possession of the beautiful by
creative activity in the realm of beauty. But significantly his words are at the
same time lifted up above the Socratic sphere; it is not his own thought which he
relates, but a conversation in which the seer Diotima! disclosed to him the nature
of Eros. He uses the myth, his method of question and answer and finally the
language of the mysteries not to ascend to the final peak, but to embrace it with
a glance. As in the initiation of the mystics, the way leads in steps from cor-
poreal to spiritual beauty, and in a final ascent to the beauty of knowledge
in the realm of pure intellectual striving. From this point the everlasting, the
absolute beautiful, beauty itself, can be perceived in one blessed moment
(e€£aidyns, reminiscent of the kindling spark in the Seventh Letter). At the con-
clusion of Socrates’ speech Alcibiades, drunk, bursts in on the symposium and
depicts Socrates as the great man filled with Eros who can generate beauty in the
soul of others through the beauty of the soul which rests within himself like the
gold image of a god in a Silenus-shaped shrine.
The Phaedo? is also a narrative, this time an eye-witness report of Socrates’ last
hours. We are told that Plato was ill and therefore absent (59 b); the implication
is obviously that we are not to expect a factual report but a philosophical fiction.
The Phaedo is a dialogue On the Soul, which is the subtitle in the manuscripts.
The talk, which unites Socrates with his friends for the last time, revolves
round the proof of the soul’s immortality. Two lines of argument are followed
in which the doctrine of anamnesis and the association of the soul with the
world of imperishable ideas play the major role. The objections of Simmias and
Cebes, two Pythagoreans who used to be Philolaus’ students, create a pause. In
the third and last line of argumentation Socrates reaches far into the past to
discuss in the passage which occupied us previously (p. 497) his development,
which is really the development of Plato up to the theory of ideas. And this
theory also gives decisive support to the third proof with the notion that the
soul, which has a share in the idea of life, could not absorb that of death. The final
© On her historical authenticity: w. KRANZ, ‘Diotima von Mantineia’, Herm. 61, 1926,
437; cf. Die Antike 2, 1926, 320. H. KOLLER, ‘Die Komposition des plat. Symp.’. Diss.
Ziirich 1948, thinks that the Diotima speech is the primary element of the Symposium; one
can agree with this conception of the whole without having to think of astratified growth.
2 §, DIRLMEIER, bilingual ed., Munich 1949; 2nd ed. 1959. R. HACKFORTH, PI.’s Phaedo
(surv. and comm.). Cambr. 1955. Repr. New York 1960. R. S. BLUCK, PI.’s Phaedo. Transl.
with Intro., Notes and Appendices. Lond. 1955. NILO CASINI, Il Fedone. Florence 1958 (with
comm.). W. J. VERDENIUS, ‘Notes on Pl.’s Phaedo’’. Memn. 4, 11, 1958, 193.

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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

climax of the discourse is another great eschatological myth. Outlining an

unusual, but very graphic, global geography he argues that we humans live in
the non-real world in large cave dwellings at the bottom of the air-sea; he then
proceeds to tell the story of the fate of the soul before the judgment in the
other world. In the Phaedo elements of Orphic and Pythagorean mysticism are
closely interwoven with the dialectical struggle for positive knowledge. The
enduring influence of the work, however, rests on the depth of feeling with
which Plato has moulded into a unity the death of the sage and his unshakable
belief in the immortality of the soul.
We date the completion of the work which represents the climax of Plato’s
creativity, the Republic, in 347; various references place it between the Sym-
posium and the Phaedo on the one hand, and the Theaetetus on the other; Plato
himself (540 a) states that the philosopher only reaches his goal, the vision of
the idea of the good, at the age of fifty. A construction like this presupposes a
long time of growth. In the Republic all the impulses and themes of Platonic
philosophy are united into one whole, and blended with such artistry
that a short sketch can only trace the most important outlines of the
structure.
The first book differs conspicuously from the following nine (although the
division into ten books is not Plato’s own); it performs the function of a vesti-
bule, through which we are led into the actual realm of the problems. The whole
work is presented as a single narrative by Socrates; nothing transpires about the
place where the story is told or about the audience. At the day of the Bendis
celebrations in Piraeus Socrates enters the house of the well-to-do Cephalus,
whose old age is comforted by the consciousness that he has never cheated or
lied to any one, so that he is able to undertake the journey to another world
with an easy mind. The confession of the old man from which a thread runs to
the final eschatological myth, provokes a discussion among the younger ones
about the nature of justice. After several attempts to find a definition have
failed Thrasymachus, whom we met earlier (p. 357) as an historical personality,
introduces a sharper note into the conversation. Like Callicles in the Gorgias, he
passionately argues the right of the stronger against the mass and their laws in
the most extreme manner of the sophists. The similarity of this first book with
the early aporetic dialogues is unmistakable and there were many supporters
for the hypothesis that Plato had fitted an early dialogue about justice, called
Thrasymachus, into the great work. It would no doubt have been an unfinished
dialogue, but could have been an unused draft; a conscious return to the early
manner? cannot be excluded as such, but the results of linguistic statistics favour
an early date.
' The transl. by K. vreTzKa, Reclam, 1958 offers good explanatory notes and bibl. For
R. RUFENER’S transl. v. inf. in the bibl.
5
F. DORNSEIFF, Herm. 76, 1941, 11; cf. JAEGER 2, 150. H.-J. KRAMER, Abh. Akad. Heidelb.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1959/6, 42 determinedly argues in favour of an early date of adialogue Thrasy-
machus on a basis of linguistical statistics.
3H. V. ARNIM, Sitzber. Akad. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl. 169/3, 1912, 223. 230 ff. FRIEDLANDER
too, and recently GAISER and KRAMER firmly favour an early dialogue Thrasymachus.
526
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
In the first part of Book 2 the speeches of Glaucus and Adeimantus, Plato’s
two brothers, who henceforth dominate the conversation together with
Socrates, lead to a precise wording of the problem. From the nature of justice
and injustice the precedence of the former as the true blessing which brings
happiness for itself by its very nature, should be proved. At this stage Socrates
suggests (368 d) that the problem should be dealt with not within the context
of individual life, but within the larger one of the state, which to Plato means
the city-state. So the subject of the next part, including Book 4, is the conceptual
experiment of developing a city from its primitive beginnings and of exploring
in the course of its growth the place and role of justice in it. Although this theo-
retical political structure with its new, broadly planned establishment of an
absolute order of values is in the sharpest possible contrast to the sophists’
notions, it is founded on this movement in its non-historical rationale. It is not
without its predecessors either; two of these can be mentioned:1 Hippodamus of
Miletus, who worked as an architect in Piraeus under Pericles, and Phaleas of
Chalcedon, who in 400 formulated a plan demanding equality of property and
education as well as nationalization of industry.
In the conception of the Platonic state the guardian class, which provides the
rulers, is placed in the foreground. From the very beginning the central problem
is that of education, which alone can offer to Plato the possibility of moulding
the Greek notion of royalty as the harmony of power and justice (Solon 24,
16 D. Aeschylus fr. 381 N.) into a political structure in conformity with his
theory of ideas. The third class, that of the employed, fades into the background
behind the two classes of rulers and guardians; it is merely the object of states-
manship, and Plato has often been reproached for being destitute of social
feeling because he did not care how the many lived. But he stated categorically
in prominent places in his work (420 b. 466 a. 519 e) that his whole plan pur-
poses to ensure to all parts of this state the highest happiness attainable for them.
At this juncture we should also consider the unfair rashness with which in
recent times Plato’s designs have been abruptly made the equivalent of the
abuses of totalitarian systems and have been condemned through a distorting
transference into present-day conditions.? It is an irresponsible act of injustice
1 WILH. NESTLE, Vom Mythos zum Logos. Stuttg. 1940, 492.
2 The attacks on Plato were begun by J. Dewey, Reconstruction in Philosophy, 1920 and
The Quest for Certainty, 1929. They were continued by w. Fire, The Platonic Legend, 1934
and particularly k. rR. POPPER, The Open Society. Lond. 1945, Germ. ed. Der Zauber Platons.
Die offene Gesellschaft und ihre Feinde I. Bern 1957. R. H. S. CROSSMAN, Plato to-day. Lond.
1957; 2nd rev. ed. New York 1959 takes the same line. Profound refutation of Popper by
R. B. LEVINSON, In Defence of Plato. Cambr. Mass. 1953. Also J. witp, PIl.’s Modern
Enemies and the Theory of Natural Law. Chicago 1953, although he reads teleological themes
into Plato’s notions of the physis. Considered opinions in these matters in E. M. MANASSE,
Biicher iiber Pl. Philos. Rundschau. Beih. 2. Tiibingen 1961, 162. F. M. CORNFORD, The Republic
of Plato. New York 1954 (first pr. 1941), a transl. with introd. and commi., is still important
for the criticism of the Republic. Also N. R. MURPHY, The Interpretation of Pl.’s Republic,
Oxf. 1951 who claims that Plato’s ethics and politics are in touch with reality. J. LUCCIONI,
La Pensée politique de Pl. Paris 1958.8. W. HALL, ‘Justice and the Individual in the Republic’.
Phronesis 4, 1959, 149. T. A. SINCLAIR, A History of Greek Political Thought. Lond. 1952.
W. C. GREENE, Harv. Stud. 61, 1953, 39.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

to claim, as does W. Fite, that Plato’s designs grew out of the ideology of a
leisure class which held the masses in contempt. There is not a single line in
Plato which describes the struggle for power as worthwhile for the sake of
individual profit or the advantage of a specific social class; on the contrary, such
aspirations are wholly rejected in the chapter on the tyrant. Plato has taken
sufficient care to ensure that there can be no doubt about the goal of his ideal
state, to lead people to the life which suits them and so to happiness by fitting
them into a cosmos based on morality, i.e. on reason. It is equally clear that the
three classes are not castes with rigid demarcations; they describe the place
allotted to the individual on the ground of his abilities. F. M. Cornford' has
aptly observed that Socrates began with the moral reform of the individual; the
final aim of his reform must be a community consisting of such converts. Plato,
on the other hand, takes into account the individual talents as facts and makes the
best of them by fitting them into a permanent structure. One point is admittedly
correct, but here we can touch upon it only briefly: Plato’s ideal state, which is
wholly pervaded by the idea of the good, which exists for the true happiness of
its citizens and demands the greatest sacrifices from its rulers for the interests of
others, is conceived for the development of human values in each of its members;
but he cannot attain his high purpose without overstepping in various places
the boundary which separates beneficial means from suffocating coercion. Here
the inner law of politics is revealed as a sinister reality and Plato sensed this when
he repeatedly laid stress on education and persuasion to prevent harsh compul-
sion. There is another difficulty connected with what has just been said, a diffi-
culty which Plato’s ideal state can avoid no more than any other. His conception
is meant to be final, remaining permanently unchanged. But it cannot withstand
the dynamic power of the constant stream of life and is bound to remain a
utopia through its very claim to permanence. But in spite of all these objections
the result which Cornford found in his commentaries still holds good: Plato’s
analysis proved for all times that a political system which aims at amassing
riches or the gaining of more power is incompatible with one which aims at
lofty ideals. Perhaps the sentiment voiced so often that politics is a dirty business
is actually less close to reality than anything that Plato has written in his Republic:
though of course it boils down to what one means by truth.
This design for a state starts off as a conceptual experiment to find justice,
but gains more and more a life of its own; although Plato does not present it as
a concrete proposal for an historical situation, he nevertheless leaves open the
idea that it might possibly be realized, even if he only mentions it in a marginal
note and stresses the difficulty (499 c d et eile
The tripartite division of the state in classes is paralleled with the three parts
of the soul in Platonic psychology. Then Plato allots here and there to each part
its suitable virtue, so that the following system is the result:

rulers intelligence wisdom

apyYovTes NoytotiKov
”

codia
* The Unwritten Philosophy and Other Essays, Cambr. 1950, 59.
528
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
guardians high spirits courage
pvrakes Oujroewdés avdpeta
workers desire moderation
Snpercoupyot emOuunticdv awdpoovvn
Now the place of the fourth cardinal virtue, justice, has been found. When
things are in their proper order, it pervades the whole, since it allots to each
part its correct place and binds together the whole with its harmony. Jaeger!
showed that this picture of an order based on everyone doing his duty within
his limits (ra €avrod zpdrrew) originated in the medical notion of health being
an equilibrium.
Book 5 develops the conditions of life necessary for the guardian class (not
the workers); for these Plato takes the exclusion of private ownership a step
further to the extreme of making wives and children common property. The
complete equality of men and women in their work for the state was for Plato’s
time also a rationalistic hyperbole, which, by the way, is quietly withdrawn in
the Laws (781 a).
In this Book 5, almost exactly in the centre of the whole work, there occurs
the phrase which also forms the intellectual centre of the whole: a change for
the good can only come about in politics when the philosophers seize power or
when the rulers become philosophers. The same phrase made its appearance in
the Seventh Letter (326 a) as an early statement of faith after his alienation from
the state of Athens. The work which began as a quest for justice and was carried
on as an attempt to build up a state, passes into the realm of pure philosophy as
a matter of course without relinquishing any of the previous themes. Up to the
end of Book 7 the subject is chiefly the nature and the education of the men who,
as philosophers, are to rule in the ideal state; the philosophy meant is Platonic
philosophy, and we have moved into the realm of the doctrine of true being.
The rulers, who come from the guardian class, and are sometimes called
guardians as well, have to undergo a long period of training. The old question
of ‘talent or education’ is solved according to the meaning of these two factors.
Those who show the greatest aptitude pass through a long course of study in
arithmetic and geometry to which the newly created subject of solid geometry
is added; they also study astronomy and harmonics, and the climax of the course
is pure dialectic. Along the way another stricter selection takes place among
the thirty-year-old which singles out the most suitable candidates for the final
part of the course; it is only at the age of fifty that the final goal is attained with
the vision of the idea of the good. In the light of this last and highest under-
standing the men who have been educated in this way will rule the true state.
In this part three successive sections are especially important for the develop-
ment of the theory of ideas. Towards the end of Book 6 Plato compares the
idea of the good as the source of spiritual existence, imparting truth to intelli-
gible objects and the possibility of comprehending them to him who perceives
t 3. 48 and Eranos 44, 1946, 123, where also the medical origin of the expression Oupoeides
is explained.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

them, with the sun which causes things to exist in the world of the visible, but
creates for us the condition in which we see them with its light.' Similarly the
idea of the good towers above all the other ideas in a way which assigns to ita
place above the cosmos of ideas as the actual principle of being. This anticipates
Neoplatonism in an essential point;? it is also obvious to equate the idea of the
good with God. This is followed up by the symbolization of the steps of per-
ception with a line which is divided into two parts, representing the realm of
the visible and that of the intellectual. Each part is again bisected in proportion
to the main sections, so that now four steps are marked out: illusion, based on
shadows and images (etxacia), belief in direct physical perception (méorts),
the processes of reason based on visible shapes (Sudvowa, e.g. geometry) and as
the final step insight into the world of the absolute (vénoxs) achieved through
dialectic. At the beginning of Book 7 follows the cave-simile, a splendid parable
of man rising in his perception to the truth of being, which exerted a powerful
influence in the ancient world and beyond it. The process can be divided into
five steps,* the first four of which are obviously parallel to the degrees of per-
ception mentioned just now. The people chained up in the cave with their
backs towards the exit see only the shadows thrown on the wall by the objects
carried past outside; they are imprisoned in the realm of illusion, of 6¢€a. When
they have been set free of their bonds they are allowed to see the things them-
selves by the light of a fire, and also the fire itself. When they have climbed out
of the cave, they stand in the bright daylight and see the things in sunlight.
After much toil this third step is followed by the vision of this light itself, which
means the idea of the good as the symbol of the highest. On the fifth step they
return to the cave as the enlightened to influence others with their knowledge.
This return is a harsh duty; it corresponds with the ethical necessity which
forces the philosopher away from the happiness of the vita contemplativa to the
vita activa of political life. These two notions were rigorously separated in the
thought of the sth century, but with Plato they enter into a new combination
of a nature peculiarly their own.
Books 8 and 9 describe how the ideal form of society upheld by justice
degenerates in a descending line via timocracy, oligarchy and democracy to
tyranny. The parallel between the state and the individual soul is also continued
in this description of decay; it shows a great depth of historical and psycho-
logical understanding.
The roth Books has often been taken for a supplement of some kind in which

' K. SCHMITZ-MOORMANN, Die Ideenlehre Pl.’s im Lichte des Sonnengleichnisses des 6.

Buches des Staates. Diss. Munich 1957, Miinster 1959.
* HERTER (v. p. 509, n. 3) with bibl. H. DOrRRrE, Philos. Rundschau 3, 1955, 20, about PH.
MERLAN, From Platonism to Neoplatonism. The Hague 1953.
* Opposing this Ross (v. inf.) 43. 235, otherwise JAEGER 3, 8 and w. J. VERDENIUS, ‘Pl.’s
Gottesbegriff’ in La Notion du divin. Vandceuvres-Geneva 1954, 273).
+ Cf. BE. M. MANASSE, Philos. Rundschau. 5. Jahrg. 1. Beih. Tiib. 1957, 23 about mM. HEI-
DEGGER, Platons Lehre von der Wahrheit, Bern 1947. M. ZEPF, Der Mensch in der Hohle und
das Pantheon. Gymin. 65, 1958, 355.
5 J. FERGUSON, Plato’s Republic, Book 10. Lond. 1957.

530
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Plato wished to add various afterthoughts. This may apply up to the splendid
ending which crowns the work. An important section is the one in which the
poetic criticism of the end of Book 2 and the beginning of Book 3 is resumed
and placed on a firm foundation. Here we find the puzzling devaluation of art
as a mere imitation of the objects of the physical world which themselves
already imitate the ideas; we also find here the renunciation of the national
poetry as posing a threat to the correct conditions for the mind through a
stimulation of the passions. One thing is certain in Plato’s complex and by no
means homogeneous attitude to art:' the struggle between the artist and the
philosopher took place in Plato’s own breast. When we read (608 a) how hard
Plato fights against Homer’s spell, we will understand the inflexibility of his
judgment as a measure of the trouble with which this thinker, himself a gifted
poet, wrested it from himself.
The ending is formed by the third of Plato’s great myths of the other world,”
the narrative of the Armenian Er about the fate of the soul which wanders
through births and shares in the decision of its density through the choice of its
future life. Here it is necessary to put an extremely difficult question which also
applies to other parts of Plato’s work, such as the curious speculation on numbers
in Book 8 of the Republic (546 b): What elements of his work came to Plato
from the Orient? The agency of contemporaries such as Eudoxus of Cnidos is
thought of in this connection; there is also mention of a Chaldean among the
visitors to the Academy (Ind. Acad. p. 13 M.). In antiquity the supposition of
such connections led to the invention of Plato’s travels to the East; more recently
it has become the subject of lively discussions} which still continue. This much
can be stated that for individual elements which appear so alien in the work as
the numerical speculation, origin from the Orient is very likely, but that the
constitutive elements of the Platonic doctrine are entirely of Greek origin.
Some dialogues follow which form a closer group through the stronger
stress upon dialectic. The Parmenides’ brings the grey-haired Eleatic and Zeno
! H. GUNDERT, ‘Enthusiasmus und Logos bei Pl.’. Lexis 2, 1949, 34. P.-M. SCHUL, PI. et l’art
de son temps (arts plastiques). 2nd ed. Paris 1952. B. SCHWEITZER, PI. und die bildende Kunst der
Griechen. Tiib. 1953. R. C. LODGE, PI.’s Theory of Art. Lond. 1953. £. HUBER-ABRAHAMOWICZ,
Das Problem der Kunst bei Pl. Winterthur 1954. P. VICAIRE, Platon. Critique littéraire. Paris
1960. L. RICHTER, Zur Wissenschaftslehre von der Musik bei Pl. und Aristoteles. Berl. 1960 (D.
Akad. Schr. d. Sekt.f.Altertumsw. 23).
2 K. REINHARDT, PI.’s Mythen. Bonn 1927.
3 J. KERSCHENSTEINER (cf. p. 508, n. 1) with excellent bibl. a.-J. FESTUGIERE, ‘PI. et
VOrient’, Rev. Phil. 21, 1947, 1. W. J. W. KOSTER, Le Mythe de Pl., de Zarathoustra et
des Chaldéens. Leiden 1951. W. BRANDENSTEIN, ‘Iranische Einfliisse bei Pl.’. Miscellanea
G. Galbicati 3, 1951, 83. SARTON (v. inf.), 435.
4 On the change of meaning of ‘dialectic’. A. wENZL, Sitzb. Bayer. Akad. Phil.-hist. Kl.
1959/8, 9. .
5 For these and the following dialogues in add. to the works mentioned in GIGON’s
bibl. esp. ross (v. inf.). On Parm. and Soph., with a different opinion: F. M. CORNFORD, Pig
and Parmenides. 3rd ed. Lond. 1951, repr. New York 1957; survey and comm. CORNFORD
is of the opinion that the Platonic Parmenides, in contrast to the historical thinker, renewed
the Pythagorean doctrine of evolution which led from unity to the plurality of observable
objects. On this dialogue also: w. Fr. LYNCH, An Approach to the Metaphysics of Plato through
531
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

into conversation with Socrates as a young man; the claborate disguise of the
tale which retells a story told some time before underlines its fictitious nature
once more. The dialogue is extremely difficult and is interpreted in various
conflicting ways; its first part consists of a criticism of the theory of ideas by
Parmenides, which is offered inter alia regarding the formulations of the ‘ parti-
cipation’ of physical objects in the ideas. The opinion is probably correct that
Plato here attempted to face the difficulties in his doctrine which had occurred
to himself and others. The second part with its complex and often vulnerable
argumentation leads to a dialectical wrestling-match which is supposed to train
the faculties to overcome the problems shown earlier. The most important
problem of this part is the question how much of Plato’s ontology looms up
behind the eight hypotheses of the One. The answer may be that at the back of
these attempts with their contradictory results there is Plato’s basic dualism of
unity and plurality which allows the One to develop into many other shapes
and in this way promotes this One to the true being."
The Theaetetus contains an important chapter of Plato’s theory of knowledge.
It is characteristic of Plato’s high estimation of mathematics? as preparatory
schooling for aspiring dialecticians on their path to true knowledge that the
young Theaetetus appears here as Socrates’ partner in the conversation together
with his teacher Theodorus of Cyrene. Theaetetus is believed to have been the
founder of solid geometry and the doctrine of the five regular solids; in 369 he
fell, fighting bravely, in the war against the Thebans and his death was a severe
loss to the Academy. The dialogue which preserves his memory seeks the nature
and the categories of knowledge. The laborious separation of physical percep-
tion, true judgment and true knowledge does not lead to a valid definition of
true knowledge, but it creates the epistemological prerequisites for the theory
of ideas without any reference to its metaphysics. It is understandable that
modern philosophers considered this very work to be important for the prin-
ciples involved. The so-called ‘Apology of Protagoras’ is an important passage
since it affords the possibility of aproper understanding of the doctrine of this
sophist.
In the Phaedrus> Plato's artistic powers once more reach their full height
before they begin to diminish in the later dialogues. The conversation between
the Parmenides. Georgetown Univ. Pr. 1959. A. SPEISER, Ein Parmenideskommentar. Studien
zur plat. Dialektik. 2nd rev. ed. Stuttg. 1959. E. A. WYLLER, PI.’s Parmenides in seinem Zusam-
menhang mit Symposion und Politeia. Interpretationen zur plat. Xenologie. Oslo 1960. Cf. also
W. BROCKER, Grom. 30, 1958, 517.
So argues with great confidence H. J. KRAMER, Arete bei Pl. u. Aristoteles. Abh. Akad.
Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1959/6, 262.
* CH. UNGLER, PI. et la recherche mathématique de son époque. Strasbourg 1948. A. WEDBERG,
Pl.’s Philosophy of Mathematics. Stockholm 1955. G. MARTIN. Klassische Ontologie der Zahl.
Cologne 1956.
3 R. HACKFORTH, PI.’s Phaedrus (surv. and comm.) Cambr. 1952; repr. New York 1960.
With Span. transl.: LUIS GIL FERNANDEZ. Madrid 1957. w. J. VERDENIUS, ‘Notes on Pl.’s
Ph.’. Mnem. s. 4, 8, 1955, 265. Cf. GUNDERT (v. p. $31, n. I). Model speeches: W. STEIDLE,
Herm. 80, 1952, 258, 4. On late dating of the dialogue: 0. REGENBOGEN, Miscellanea
Academica Berolinensia. 2/1, 1950, 201.

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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Socrates and Phaedrus takes place under a mighty plane-tree which spreads its
branches over a spring near a shrine to the Muses outside the city. It falls into
two parts whose unity depends on their relation to rhetoric. The first part
comprises three speeches on the subject of Eros. First of all Phaedrus declaims
an oration of Lysias’, which Socrates at once surpasses with one of his own. It is
kept in the same tenor and depicts Eros as a disastrous madness. In the third
speech, however, follows the palinode when Socrates, himself one who is filled
with Eros, extols it as a divine madness which is very closely related to a
prophetic, cathartic and poetical enthusiasm. Here Plato fashioned his picture
of the soul’s chariot with its two winged steeds controlled by the ‘best part’ of
the soul. It urges them up into eternity when it is strong enough to control the
impure part of the soul.
If one thread leads from the Eros speeches of the first part back to the Sym-
posium, the second with its enquiry into the nature of true rhetoric points back
to the Gorgias. Only the philosopher can be a true orator, since he knows the
real nature of the things about which he speaks. As the path to knowledge leads
through dialectic, it is the only means to make rhetoric into a true techne. The
two basic elements of Platonic dialectic, the division of the notions (diaeresis),
and the meaningful union of the separated parts (synagoge), are clearly detect-
able in the Phaedrus.
The characters in the Theaetetus agreed, before they parted, to meet again the
next morning, thus preparing the stage for the Sophistes and the Politicus.! In
addition to Socrates, Theodorus and Theaetetus, a stranger from Elea turns up
who represents symbolically the closer tie with the Eleatic school. Even if Plato
had to reject Parmenides’ extreme ontological monism as well as the radical
separation of the intelligible One from the world of growth, the Parmenidean
conception of Being had a considerable share in the preparation of the theory of
ideas. In the Sophistes Socrates’ complete withdrawal is of great importance. His
influence is still present, but it no longer stimulates the whole. The subject is the
nature of the sophists and the heuristic method is the diaeresis? which already
played a part in previous dialogues, but which now is given greater stress. The
problem of the relation between the individual ideas and the possibility of

' —, M. CORNFORD, Plato’s Theory of Knowledge. The Theaetetus and the Sophist of Pl.
Translated with a Running Commentary. Lond. 1935, 4th impr. 1951. New York 1957 (Libr.
of Lib. Arts. 100), assumes that the two dialogues are complementary. The Sophist gives the
theory of ideas its place in cognition and allots to the realm of being the essence of the
intellect which is in motion. E. M. MANASSE, PI.’s Sophistes und Politikos. Das Problem der
Wahrheit. Berlin 1937, on the relation of the two dialogues to one another and to the Theae-
fetus. J. B. SKEMP, PI.’s Statesman. A Translation of the Politicus of Pl. with Introductory Essays
and Footnotes. Lond. 1952, which gives the wholly uncertain date of 362/1 for this dialogue
because, after refusing to support Dion’s expedition, Plato could not have approved of
violence as a means of saving the state. H. HERTER, ‘Gott und die Welt bei Pl. Eine Studie
zum Mythos des Politikos’. Bonner Jahrb. 158, 106.
2 On the method of diaeresis KARSTEN FRIIS JOHANSEN. Class. et Mediaev. 18, 1957, 23.
H. KOLLER, ‘Die diharetische Methode’. Glofta 39, 1960, 6. Attempts to connect this method
with Democritus’ atomism are still doubtful; cf. J. sTENzEL, ‘Platon und Demokritos’ in
KI. Schr. zur griech. Philosophie. Darmstadt 1956.
So 333
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

bringing them into a system which occupied the older Plato especially is also
brought into relief.
The Politicus, which also uses diaeresis and gives an account of its methodology,
concerns the nature of the statesman. Once again Plato uses a myth with a
picture of the development of mankind to point out a prerequisite of all rulers.
This ideal condition is fulfilled in the true statesman who possesses true know-
ledge and is of much greater importance than any code of law. In the Republic
such a code also becomes superfluous through the proper education of the rulers.
It has repeatedly been claimed that Plato was thinking of Dion in this sketch of
the principles of the just politician, and the possibility cannot be denied. The
Sophistes (217 a) announces a definition of the sophist, the politician and the
philosopher, but the last definition is not given. There has been much puzzle-
ment why Plato did not write a separate dialogue Philosophus, but the most
likely explanation is that he was never serious about his promise."
The formulation of the problem of the Philebus* stresses an entirely ethical
matter: is pleasure or perception the highest goal which should be the object of
our lives? And it turns out that to live the good life neither the one nor the
other is adequate, but that a mixture of the two is needed. The subject, however,
is dealt with entirely on the plane of ontological problems. Pleasure and percep-
tion as such are each divided into a plurality, and the elaboration of the notion
leads to an extensive use of diaeresis. At the same time the basic problem of the
theory of ideas emerges once more with the question of how the oneness of the
idea can be reconciled with the plurality of the appearance of the things which
share in it. The Philebus gives evidence of being a late work by the demand
that in the diaeretic search for the structure of the world the number of the
members obtained through division should at all times be taken into account.
By the stress on this element the dialogue points to the work of Plato’s old age
which had the greatest influence in later periods, the Timaeus.5
This dialogue was conceived as the first of a trilogy which was to be continued
with the Critias, which remained unfinished, and a Hermocrates, which was not
committed to paper. As a whole it was meant to give a history of the world
from the genesis of the cosmos up to the development and degeneration of
political life, as well as a view of the restoration of the latter. At the beginning
of the Timaeus, which owes its title to the main speaker, the Pythagorean
" So criticizes P. FRIEDLANDER, Platon. 2nd ed. vol. 3. Berl. 1960, 261 with bibl. in n. 5.
H. J. KRAMER (v. p. 524, n. 3), 317, considers it possible to reconstruct the plan of the con-
tents, but comes to the conclusion that Pl. could not write the dialogue, because his philoso-
phizing would have come to a stop through it; bibl. on p. 247, 7.
* A.B. TAYLOR, Pl.’s Philebus and Epinomis. Transl. and Introd. Ed. by R. KLIBANSKY with
G. CALOGERO and A. G. LLOYD. Lond. 1956. R. HACKFORTH, Pl.’s Examination ofPleasure.
Cambr. 1945. Repr. New York 1960. H.-D. VOIGTLANDER, Die Lust und das Gute bei Pl.
Diss. Frankf. 1959; Wiirzb. 1960. H. P. HARDING, ‘Zum Text des plat. Philebos’. Herm. 88,
1960, 40.
3 PF, M. CORNFORD, Plato’s Cosmology. The Timaeus of Plato. Translated with a Running
Commentary. Lond. 1937; 4th impr. Lond. 1956. New York 1957 (Libr. ofLib. Arts 101).
H. CHERNISS, ‘The Relation of the Timaeus to Plato’s Later Dialogues’. Am. Journ. Phil.
78, 1957, 225. CH. MUGLER, La Physique de Platon. Ed. et comm. 35. Paris 1960.

534
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Timaeus of Locri, the Atlantis theme is broached which will be discussed with
the Critias. The first main section is taken up with Timaeus’ lecture on cosmo-
gony in the form of a myth which is plausibly presented in its main features. In
this late work the abrupt turn to cosmology is a new feature; so are the form and
the role of the divine world architect, the demiurge. This creator is by no means
a free agent; the eternal ideas stand above him and with these in view he shapes
the visible things into a realm of order, the cosmos.! And so the old problem of
the participation of the physical world in the ideas has found a mythical,
personal solution. The cosmos has the most perfect form, the sphere, and is a
great rational being filled and guided by the world spirit. It is most clearly
shown as being controlled by a soul in the regular orbits of the constellations,
which are a race of gods. Another new feature is the meaning of space which is
for the first time seen as a universal notion, since it is the place of genesis.
In the second part of the dialogue the teleological explanation of the universe
is followed up by a causal-mechanistic one. Apart from the existence of the
ideas in accordance with which the demiurge directs the generation of things,
the dark realm of ananke also plays a part in the genesis of the universe. There is,
however, no question of a dualism such as that of the Iranian religion; reason
largely succeeds in persuading ananke to submit to the best order (48 a), but one
part remains unredeemed, necessarily resulting in imperfection and evil. In this
section Plato explains the construction of the universe out of the four elements
which is built up entirely mathematically. Theaetetus had evolved solid geo-
metry and developed the doctrine of the five only possible regular solids. Four
of these (the dodecahedron is reserved for the universe, 55 c) are used for the
explanation of the structure of fire, air, water and earth from solids of this shape,
whose surfaces break up into triangles; with these the smallest constructional
forms have been found. Their combinations may change, so that transition from
one element into another is possible. It has been thought that it was especially
this notion which meant to take issue with Democritus,” but it has connections
with the whole of the earlier natural philosophy, both through its dependence
on and opposition to it. The third part depicts in a similar speculatively con-
structive way the physical and psychical structure of man.
No other dialogue has had an influence as lasting as this one. Plato should not
be censured for the fact that in later times each word of this myth was accepted
as scientific fact. The first commentary, that by Crantor of Soloe (c. 300 B.c.)

t On this concept w. FRANZ, Kosmos. Bonn 1956. On Platonic religiosity with particular
reference to the belief in constellations: A.-J. FESTUGIERE, Personal Religion among the Greeks.
Univ. of Cal. Pr 1954, 45.
2 Bibl. in LEISEGANG (v. inf.), 2509. Important is A. B. TAYLOR’S Timaeus comm. Oxf.
1928. An outline of the advance of a new conception of the universe through physics is
drawn by w. SCHADEWALDT, ‘Das Welt-Modell der Griechen’. Neue Rundschau 68, 1957,
2nd vol., 1. Similarly p. FRIEDLANDER in the excursus ‘Platon als Physiker’ in vol. 1 of his
Platon (2nd ed. 1954); but £. M. MANASSE, Philos. Rundschau. 5. Beih. 1, 1957, 15 warns
against too rash analogies.
3 Evidence in sARTON (v. inf.), 428; cf. also G. $s. CLAGHORN, Aristotle's Criticism of Pl.’s
Timaeus. The Hague 1954.
355
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

was followed by several others; we find parts of the dialogue in Cicero’s transla-
tion and the one by Chalcidius (4th cent. a.p.)! was the only Platonic text
known in the Middle Ages until the translation of the Meno and the Phaedo in
the twelfth century. The Arabic translation which began in the ninth century
was no less important than the Latin one. .
The Critias remained unfinished, but the fragment was enough to give birth
to a piece of silliness which cannot be rooted out.? A prehistoric Athens, con-
ceived as the ideal state, is shown being tested in a severe struggle which it had
to fight 9000 years ago against the powerful land of Atlantis which sank down
under the ocean. The creator of this myth, which is as fanciful and allusive as
his other ones, could have had no idea that thousands of years later Atlantis
would be searched for with the same grim seriousness with which Odysseus’
voyages are plotted on maps.
Plato no doubt postponed this and other work for the sake of the most
extensive of his writings, the Laws. Socrates no longer takes part in the con-
versation; he is actually excluded because the scene is laid in Crete. Three old
men, one an Athenian who leads the conversation and who remains unnamed,
the Cretan Clinias and the Spartan Megillus are walking from Cnossos to the
mountain cave in which Minos received the laws from Zeus. The first three of
the twelve books contain basic and preliminary considerations; in the fourth
the construction of the imagined state is begun; it is the second which Plato
built. A fundamental change has taken place compared with the Republic and
the Politicus. In these dialogues the role of the laws faded into the background
behind the hopes which Plato placed in the philosophically trained ruler, or a
group of such men; now the stress has shifted. The rule should be in the hands
of a young talented tvpavvos (709 e), who must combine with a suitable
legislator, so that the right constitution will be the outcome of this meeting of
power and wisdom; the ‘nocturnal council’, which has to maintain the spirit
of the law and with it the proper hierarchy of values, is comparable with the
group of guardians who are the ruling class of the Republic; Plato states categori-
cally that the sole ruler over all this is the law which the ruling classes also serve
like slaves (715 d). Another difference in this connection is that the Republic also
seeks happiness for all but that it trusts that this happiness will be provided by
IJ. C. M. VAN WINDEN, Calcidius on Matter. His Doctrine and Sources. A Chapter in the
History of Platonism. Leiden 1959.
2 Cf. H.HERTER, ‘Altes und Neues zu PIl.’s Krit.’. Rhein. Mus. 92, 1944, 236. LEISEGANG
(v. inf.) 2512. P. FRIEDLANDER, Platon. 2nd ed., vol. 1, Berl. 1954, 213. 272; Vol. 3, Berl.
1960, 357. More recent bibl. in H. CHERNISS, Lustrum 4, 1959 (1960), 70.
3G. MULLER, Studien zu den plat. Nomoi. Zet. 3, 1951. In add. 4. CHERNISS, Gnom. 25,
1953, 367. M. VANHOUTTE, La Philosophie politique de Platon dans les ‘Lois’. Louvain 1954.
0. GIGON, ‘Das Einleitungsgesprich der Gesetze Pl.’s’. Mus. Helv. 11, 1954, 201. R. MUTH,
‘Studien zu Pl.’s Nomoi’. Wien. Stud. 69, 1956, 140. F. SOLMSEN, ‘Textprobleme im Io.
Buch der Nomoi’, Stud. z. Textgesch. u. Textkritik. Cologne 1959, 265. G. R. MORROW,
Pl.’s Cretan City. A Historical Interpretation of the Laws. Princeton Un. Pr. 1960; id., ‘The
Nocturnal Council in Pl.’s Laws’. Arch.f.Gesch. d. Philos. 42, 1960, H. 3. H. GORGEMANNS,
Beitrage zur Interpretation von Pl.’s Nomoi. Zet. 25, Munich 1960, with abundant bibl. and
a good survey of the criticism of the Laws up to now.
536
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
the right leadership of those who have had the right education, and that it does
not trouble about codified legal norms for the life of the third class. In the
Laws, however, he develops an abundance of rules which in their great breadth
embrace and control the population as a whole. In this work Plato has become
more empirical, not with respect to its method, which remains theoretical and
speculative, but in the choice of objects; it is more inclined toward the descrip-
tive, a feature which could also be observed in the Timaeus in its description of
the cosmos.
The part played by the theory of ideas has been reduced to such an extent
that individual interpreters have claimed that it is wholly absent in the Laws.!
This will not do, for the guardians of the law are enjoined to look up to the
“one idea’ (965 c), which cannot be anything but that of the good, the primary
source of all values.* But belief'in God as the supreme ruler and in the manifesta-
tions of the divine in the constellations are prominent as a combination of
philosophical and theological thought. In obvious antithesis to Protagoras, God
is now called the measure of all things (716 c). In Book 10 a lengthy exhortation
on the belief in God introduces legislation in religious matters which does not
shun rigorous coercion. In this part Plato’s pen was moved by passionate zeal
for his faith.3
In spite of all disparity, the two great works about the state are tied together
by the one basic feature of education which in the Laws is also considered as a
great, if not the only, power. This is borne out by Books r, 2 and 7 with their
wide coverage of educational problems, and also by the preambles with which
Plato wants to introduce his laws to convince the citizens of their justness and
efficiency, as physicians do at a sickbed* so as to replace blind obedience by
understanding. But this design is also open to the dangerous tension between the
education of free people who accept order, and harsh compulsion.’ Thus we
read (942 a b) that no one may individually decide on the smallest step without
reference to, and supervision of, his superior.
The Laws deviates so much from the rest of Plato’s work and shows so much
roughness in composition and detail that Fr. Ast (Platons Leben und Schriften,
1818) and E. Zeller (Platonische Studien, 1839) denied that they were Plato’s.
Zeller withdrew his opinion in his Philosophy of the Greeks, but the latest analysis
of the work by G. Miiller points entirely in this direction. At the opposite end
I HW. KUHN, Gnom. 28, 1956, 337; Continuation or modification of the theory of ideas in
the late Plato is still an open problem.
2 Cf. CHERNISS (v. sup.), 375.
3 EF. SOLMSEN, Plato’s Theology. Cornell Studies in Class. Phil. 27. Ithaca 1942, observed
in the later works a peak of religious feeling as a preparation for the road which only few
can take to reach the highest goal, the idea of the good. 0. REVERDIN, La Religion de la cité
platonicienne. Paris 1945. A.J. FESTUGIERE, La Révélation d’ Hermes Trismégiste. 2. Le Dieu
cosmique. Paris 1949, 132. 153. 219. W. JAEGER, Aristoteles. 2nd ed. Berl. 1955, 140 ff.stresses
that the cosmology of the Timaeus and the religious belief in the constellations of the Laws
were important starting-points for the Hellenistic cosmic religion.
4 Cf. F. WEHRLI, ‘Der Arztvergleich bei Pl.’. Mus. Helv. 8, 1951, 179.
5 w.KNOCH, Die Strafbestimmungen in Pl.’s Nomoi. Klass. Phil. Stud. 23. Wiesbaden 1960.
Bibl. on the arguments about Pl.’s conception of the state v. p. 527, n. 2.
537
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

we find Friedlinder and Jaeger who attempt in their study to do justice to the
truly Platonic elements and the richness of thought of the work.! Apart from a
great deal else, to deny that the Nomi is Plato’s work means to impute to
Aristotle, who quotes them as being Plato’s (Pol. 1266 bas.)2271-b 1, cfn264.b
26) an ‘astonishing negligence’. That has in fact been done. E. M. Manasse?
found the finest expression for the element which separates the Laws from Plato’s
other work and also connects it with them: ‘The Laws are, more than Plato’s
other writings, the human work of a spirit which once was a divine flame’.
Diogenes Laertius (cf. Suidas sub ¢iAdcodos) reports that Plato's secretary
Philip of Opus published the work from the rough draft (‘from the Wax, as he
puts it), divided it into twelve books and added the Epinomis? from his own
works. This treatise serves as an appendix to the Laws; the elements of an
astronomical theory have been further elaborated in it, plainly under the
influence of Pythagoreanism. It is difficult to judge how much there is of
Platonic legacy in this little work. For the Laws, however, the evidence referred
to leaves open the possibility of editing, displacement and faulty combination
of individual sections by the editor, which, together with the fact that the work
is the product of Plato’s old age, may account for many of the peculiarities. Yet
Gigon is right*+ in demanding a modern commentary on the work as a pre-
requisite for the decision of these difficult problems.
In style the Laws also deviates from the early dialogues, completing a develop-
ment evident in the later works. The enchanting freshness and conversational
quality of Plato’s phrasing, which conceals a very high degree of stylistic art,
lapses into rigidity and artificiality. This difficult and little enjoyable style of
his old age trifles with word order and elaborate interweaving, and its playing
about with sound effects (assonances) demonstrates the renunciation of the
simple charm, the true Attic charis, which makes Plato one of the great classics
of Greek prose.°®
We previously (p. 514) encountered Plato’s statement that his writings do
not contain the whole of his doctrine. What he wrote after his return from
Sicily must be seen against the background of the work of the Academy. It was
the place where Plato sought to lead talented students along his road, until the
spark flashed across and finally cognition was opened up. We know s0 little
about the scholastic activity of the Academy in Plato’s time that sometimes
there has been a tendency to deny its scientific character. Such a scepticism is
unfounded; the course of training prescribed for the guardians of the Republic
may be transferred with some confidence to the work of the Academy. Indivi-
dual personalities of the Platonic circle point to the great significance of mathe-
matics for the schooling in dialectic which was based on it and without doubt
' M. VANHOUTTE, La Philosophie politique de Platon dans les ‘Lois’. Louvain 1954 is impor-
tant for the place of the Laws in Plato’s whole ceuvre.
2 Philos. Rundschau. Beiheft 2, Tiib. 1961, 117.
* F. NOVOTNY, Platonis Epinomis commentariis illustrata. Prague 1960.
) (ie, 1d, SAG, i Sp * J. D. DENNISTON, Greek Prose Style. Oxf. 1952, 132.
® p. STOCKLEIN, Wege zum spaten Goethe. Hamb. 1949, 211, compares Plato’s late style
with that of Goethe.

538
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
there is substantial truth in the anecdote that a notice over the entrance to the
Academy read: ‘No one shall enter who knows no geometry’.! We know
furthermore that the diaeretic method which we discussed in connection with
the later dialogues, played an important part in the quest for an ordered con-
ception of the universe and in reaching definitions through the division of
concepts of ahigher order. This was so well known that the mockery of Middle
Comedy was provoked by it.?
In the Phaedrus (275 ¢ ff.) Plato himself did not rate the value of written
information very high compared with the educative worth of conversation,
and in the Seventh Letter he assures that he never and nowhere wrote about the
essence of his doctrine. There is also one single but very important non-
Platonic piece of information, Aristotle’s reference to Plato’s Aeydueva dypada
ddypara (Phys. 209 b 15). In spite of the unequivocal language of these witnesses
the interest in Plato's esoteric doctrine was hampered for a considerable time by
Schleiermacher’s verdict. In the introduction to his translation of Plato he denied
the existence of a doctrine which the philosopher had not developed in his
dialogues, but had reserved for oral instruction. In opposition to this there has
been an increasing interest during the last few decades in research into those
elements of Platonic doctrine which are not contained in the dialogues or are
only hinted at. In Hans Joachim Kramer’s* book, which aims at introducing a
now period of this research, there is a comprehensive survey of the efforts to
detect Plato’s esoteric doctrine. A report about this must necessarily be pro-
visional, for only an exhaustive exchange of opinions together with new
enquiries will be able to decide how many of these revolutionary theses will be
lasting.
The image of Plato, developed by Kramer, partially accepts and partially
rejects Schleiermacher. On the one hand he assumes emphatically, in contrast
to the latter, the existence of an esoteric doctrine, reserved for oral teaching at
the Academy; on the other he follows Schleiermacher explicitly in his accept-
ance of an original unity of Platonic thought. This implies rejection of the school
who think that they can detect Plato’s intellectual development in his dialogues
and use them as an internal biographical source.+ We are in doubt here. Does
not Kramer see Plato as too static, and is it not probable that a thinker of such

t On this type of “KEEP OUT’ notice O. WEINREICH, Arch.f.Rel.-Wiss. 18, 1915, 16. Bibl.
on Plato’s mathematics, v. p. $32, n. 2.
2 Epicrates fr. 11 K. In add. the Diogenes anecdote in Diog. Laert. 6. 40. Bol. on
. |
diaeresis v. p. 533, n. 2.
3 Arete bei Platon und Aristoteles. Zum Wesen und zur Geschichte der platonischen Ontologie.
Abh. Akad. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1959/6. A survey of the progress of research with extensive
bibl. 381-386; P. WILPERT, Zwei aristotelische Friihschriften iiber die Ideenlehre. Regensburg
1949 is particularly worth singling out. In his three lectures, The Riddle of the Early Academy,
Berkeley 1945 H. CHERNISS diametrically opposed the existence of an esoteric doctrine of
Plato’s. A prospective 2nd vol. of his work Aristotle’s Criticism of Plato and the Academy,
Baltimore 1944, is to occupy itself with the indirect evidence of Plato’s philosophy and the
: . |
nature of the ideal numbers.
4 Founded by kK. F. HERMANN, Geschichte und System der platonischen Philosophie. Heidelb.
1839.
539
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

an unheard-of dynamism should display fairly clear phases of his development?

This, of course, in spite of the fact that certain conceptions were present from
the very beginning, which should not be denied.
Another decisive factor for Kramer is his doubtlessly correct conviction that
Plato’s esoteric doctrine was not something mysteriously separated from the
sphere of the dialogues, but formed a unity with them.
It is natural that everything that we know of Plato’s lecture On the Good is of
cardinal importance in the questions raised by Kramer. According to the tradi-
tion the doctrine propounded by Plato in his Adyou wept tayaod was taken
down in writing by several of his students.! The lists in Diogenes Laertius?
prove that a treatise Ilept tayafo6 was written by Aristotle, by Xenocrates
and by Heraclides. The most extensive report about these lectures are found in
the Harmonics of Aristoxenus of Tarentum (44. 5 M.) who reproduces what he
had heard Aristotle tell. The lecture (axpdacts) had been attended by hearers
who had expected to learn something about human goods such as riches, health
and power. But when the whole thing turned out to be mathematical, they
had turned away. The cause of this pedagogical failure had been the lack of a
previous explanation of the theme.
Kramer was able to prove that nothing in this report shows that such a
lecture was something unique, and has formulated, in the face of the accepted
dogma, the thesis that these Adyou wept tayabod were neither limited to a
single course nor were public, but were rather a typical occurrence in Plato’s
school. For this he has to call in the report in Themistius (Or. 21. 245 c), which
was already done by others. It is of course possible that his is a mere embroidery
upon Aristoxenus’ report.? It had been the custom to consider this lecture as
one held by Plato in his old age, but Kramer has made it clear that there is no
evidence for this dating in the ancient sources. He accounts for this general late
dating in his history of the research, which again stresses, in opposition to
Schleiermacher, an esoteric doctrine of Plato’s, but separates this from the bulk
of the dialogues as his mature philosophy.
Through his rejection of long-standing opinions Kramer came to a picture of
the Platonic doctrine which was greatly different; the lectures On the Good were
neither a unique occurrence nor one which took place in Plato’s old age. In
general it is by far preferable to assume a series of didactic conversations than a
complete doctrine (though it must be pointed out that the most reliable of the
reports mentioned speaks of axpdacrs). According to Kramer the Adyou mrept
tayaGod are only another expression for an esoteric Platonic philosophy which
had existed side by side with the dialogues, or rather had formed the background
which often became visible in them. Long passages of the book are occupied
t Bibl. in HERTER (v. p. 554, n. 2), also ROSS (v. inf.), 216. P. WILPERT, Zwei aristotelische
Priihschriften iiber die Ideenlehre. Regensburg 1949. Some information in Simplicius, Phys.
151, 10 D.; De An. 28, 7 Hayd. Philoponus, Phys. 521, 10, 14; De An. 75. 34 ff.
7 5, 22. 4, 13. 5, 87, to which are added for Aristotle the catalogues of Hesychius and
Ptolemy, as well as several references in Alexander Aphr.; the passages in KRAMER are
Ai, oh, (HE De
3 Cf. KRAMER 404, 1. 43. 404-409.

$40
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
with proof that from an early stage the dialogues pointed to the esoteric doc-
trine. Its essence and centre is, according to Kramer, the One, which is at the same
time the Good, as the absolute basis of Being. So he fixes Plato more firmly in
the tradition of Parmenides and in the number of thinkers concerned with the
dpx7}. But Plato went beyond Parmenides by opposing the principle of the
One to another, that of the duality (adpictos Suds) of opposites (weya-
juxpov) and explained the universe in its plurality through the pervasion of
the two principles. Since the One has both ontological and axiological meaning,
the Platonic notion of arete is firmly rooted in it as well. But for the Plato of
Kramer's interpretation the ideas do not form a primary part of Plato’s ontology;
they enter only subsequently between the One as the principle of Being and the
separate, individually existing things, and thus constitute the communication
between the principles.
It was necessary to sketch this new picture of Plato in a broad outline. Research
will have many relevant questions to consider. Can the basic ontological
doctrine of the One as the principle of Being really be traced back so far? To
what extent can we be sure of the identity of the functions of the One and the
idea of the Good? Does the cosmos of ideas really rate a relatively second place
in Plato’s ontology? How much proof can be found for connections between
the dialogues and the doctrine of the One as the principle of Being? And finally,
even if it is no longer imperative to seek Plato’s mature doctrine in the lectures
On the Good, does this deny that it is still possible, or even likely, to do so?
We mention here one of the most important pieces of evidence given by
Aristotle, with which he contrasts the conception of the number of the ideas
with an earlier phase of the theory of ideas (Metaph. 4. 1078 b 9). In a consider-
able number of passages in the Metaphysics' Aristotle concludes that Plato
accepted, apart from the mathematical ones, a number of ideas which originated
bothin the One and in the Opposite (wéya-pxpov). This doctrine of the numbers
of ideas has become the subject of a lively controversy in the recent phase of
Platonic research. Harold Cherniss especially has opposed its importance, and
has tried to explain away Aristotle’s observations as a misinterpretation of the
dialogues.2 We may take it that this scepticism is going too far and that Kramer
has proved that the observations mentioned provide important evidence for
Plato’s esoteric doctrine. Now in the passage of the Metaphysics referred to
above Aristotle attributes the numbers of ideas to a later phase of Plato’s
philosophy, while on the other hand he connects these numbers with the two
principles of the One and the Opposite; it may therefore be seriously considered
whether all this taken together does not refer to the later Plato.
Now, since it is obvious to assume that the sense of these numbers of the ideas
was to make the order of the ideas intelligible, a second question is raised. Can

™ Quoted by KRAMER 250 f.

2 So in Aristotle’s Criticism of Plato and the Academy I. Baltimore 1944, and especially in
The Riddle of the Early Academy. Berkeley 1945.
3 Opposing CHERNISS’S scepticism also E. M. MANASSE, Biicher iiber Platon, Philos. Rund-
schau. Beih. 2, 1961, 90, who supposes a doctrine of Plato’s old age.
541
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

any connections be established from this point with the method of building up
conceptions, i.e. diaeresis, which plays an increasingly important role in the
dialogues after the Theaetetus and which, as we know, played such an important
part in the teaching at the Academy? Julius Stenzel most strongly stimulated
the attempts at establishing a relationship between the doctrine of the numbers
of the ideas and their origin on the one hand, and the diaeretic search for struc-
ture on the other.! It will, however, hardly be possible to come to another con-
clusion from the sum total of the endeavours in this field up to now than the
one of Kurt v. Fritz? who observes that with the means at our disposal it is
impossible to achieve any certainty regarding Plato’s notion of the origin of
the numbers of the ideas or of the way in which he associated them with the
ideas. But this does not by any means imply that such an association did not
actually exist.
The Academy drew large crowds. There is a story of a peasant who came
from his fields to enrol after reading the Gorgias, of a Chaldean and even of a
woman in men’s clothing. More important than such anecdotes are some
names which give us a picture of the circle round Plato. Some were the pioneers
in mathematics, of whom we have already met Theaetetus with his great merit
in the realm of solid geometry. But the most important entrant was Eudoxus of
Cnidos} who arrived in 367 with a group of students. He had been taught
mathematics by Archytas; as a young man he had studied some time under
Plato, but then he set out to travel, finally going to Egypt where he remained
for a long time. Next he opened a school at Cyzicus and after more years
of travel came his sojourn at the Academy, after which he finally returned
home. His influence on the development of astronomy was as great as his
services in mathematics, in which his outstanding achievements were the theory
of proportion, that of the golden section and the method of exhaustion, which
was a significant advance toward the infinitesimal calculus. In astronomy he
founded the doctrine of the concentric celestial spheres with the earth ache
centre. Through the movement of these spheres, which spin round partially
within one another, partially together with one another, he explained the orbits
of the planets. In the realm of ethics he replaced the Platonic idea of the good
with desire which is founded in the human physis, but which is characterized
by its relation to the divine.‘
In hiscommentary on Euclid’s Elements Proclus supplies some meagre informa-
tion about the contemporary mathematicians who were connected with the
™ Zahl und Gestalt bei Platon und Aristoteles. Leipz. 1924; 2nd ed. 1933; repr. Darmstadt
1958. Other works by 0. TOPLiTz and sTENZEL in KRAMER 256, 26; also O. BECKER, Zwei
Untersuchungen zur antiken Logik. Wiesbaden 1957.
2 Gnom. 33, 1961, 7; esp. 12. More positively KRAMER 434. 437.
3 SARTON (v. inf.), 441. 447. Gnom. 24, 1952, 39. W. SCHADEWALDT, Eud. v. Knidos und
die Lehre vom unbewegten Beweger. Satura, 0. WEINREICH dargebracht. Baden-Baden 1952,
103.
4B, PRANK, ‘Die Begriindung der mathematischen Naturwissenschaften durch Eudoxos’.
Wissen, Wollen, Glauben. Ges. Aufsdtze. Ziirich 1955, 134. F. DIRLMEIER, Aristoteles, Nik.
Eth. Berl. 1956, 574, argues that Eudoxus is dependent on Plato for his basic notions. On
the connection of the quest for pleasure with the divine cf. scHADEWALDT, prev. note.
$42
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Academy. We only know the names of a Leodamas, Neoclides and one Leon,
although we learn of the first that he was a student of Plato’s. Menaechmus,
who was trained by Eudoxus, formulated the theory of the conic sections! in
connection with the ancient problem of the doubling of the cube. His brother
Dinostratus also worked on the old basic problems, while Theudius of Magnesia
made a handy summary of the elements of geometry, presumably for the
benefit of the Academy. Elsewhere there is mention of the Platonic scholar
Hermodorus; we know of him that his treatise Hep! waOnudtwr dealt with
astrology.
During the lifetime of its founder, the men who were to be his first and his
second successor to the headship of the school were also members of the
Academy. Speusippus, the son of Plato’s sister Potone, led the Academy after
the Master’s death until about 339.7 The selection of his nephew was not a
happy choice; for Aristotle and Xenocrates it must have been the cause for
turning their backs upon Athens. In the collection of letters of the Socratics a
letter of Speusippus to Philip II is preserved which is now considered to be
genuine.* Its writer supports the claims of the king of Macedon to Amphipolis
and Chalcidice with painstaking argumentation. As to his further development
of Plato’s doctrine, it has been made likely by Ross* that various passages in
Aristotle point to his stressing numbers as the true entities and a disavowal of
the forms in the Platonic sense. If we follow Ross’s interpretation of the refer-
ences in Aristotle, the result is that Xenocrates, who succeeded to the headship
of the Academy, simply equated number and form. This puritanical, but rather
insignificant man, whose writings are listed by Diogenes Laertius in Book 4,
led the Academy for 25 years. He adhered to the doctrines of Plato’s old age,
appears to be strongly influenced by Pythagoreanism and influenced later times
particularly by his doctrine of the realm of demons between God and man. Of
the tripartite divisions which he applied to all the provinces of his thought, the
one of philosophy found its way into physics, logic and ethics.
Another of Plato’s students was Heraclides from Heraclea on the Pontus.5
Plato is even believed to have entrusted the direction of the Academy to him
during his third Sicilian voyage. His further development carried this versatile
and restless spirit to the Peripatos. Diogenes (5. 86. fr. 22 Wehrli) gives an
extensive list of his writings, which he classifies into works on ethics, physics,
grammar, the musical arts, rhetoric and history. A considerable part of these
writings was in the form of dialogues. In connection with the Oriental relations
of the Academy it is interesting that he wrote a Zoroaster. On the other hand

« Some information about his controversy about basic assumptions with Speusippus in
Proclus, Eucl. p. 77, 15-79. 2 FRIEDLANDER.
2 TH. MERLAN, ‘Zur Biographie des Speusippus’. Phil. 103, 1959, 128.
3 §, BICKERMANN and J. sYKUTRIS, Speusippus’ Brief an Konig Philipp. Sitzb. Sdchs. Ak.
80, 1928/3. Fragments: P. LANG, Diss. Bonn 1911. Important for Speusippus’ place and with
a new fragnient is PH. MERLAN’S above-mentioned book. Also H. DOrRIE, Philos. Rundschau.
3, 1955, 15.— Xenocrates: R. HEINZE, Xen. Leipz. 1892. (Os, Gapdy Hee
5 The fragments with comm.: F. WEHRLI, Schule des Aristoteles VII. Herakleides Pontikos
Basel 1953.
543
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Wehrli’s rational treatment of the text (fr. 104-117) has been largely responsible
for casting serious doubt on Heraclides’ fame for anticipating in essential points
the heliocentrical system of the early Hellenistic astronomer Aristarchus of
Samos.

For the difficult problem of the Platonic tradition we proceed from the estab-
lished fact that the medieval manuscripts (survey in BURNET’S edition, further in
0. IMMIScH, Philol. Studien zu Pl. 2. Leipzig 1903, most important in J. GEFFCKEN,
Gr. Lt.-Gesch. 2, Heidelb. 1934, note p. 26) exhibit without exception the
arrangement in tetralogies mentioned above (p. 511) This dates back to anti-
quity and is often erroneously connected with Thrasyllus, Tiberius’ Court
astrologer, who produced an edition of Plato, but who found the tetralogies
ready-made. Varro (De L.L. 7, 37) presupposes them at any rate. The question
of a considerably earlier date is connected with another of the oldest editions.
WILAMOWITZ (Platon, 2, 325) assumed that at about the time of Arcesilaus or
Lacydes as heads of the school, i.e. in the 3rd century B.c., the Academy collected
in 9 tetralogies whatever was supposed to be Platonic at that time. G. JACH-
MANN has energetically denied such an authoritative edition by the Athenian
Academy (Der Platontext. Nachr. Akad. Gétt. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1941/11. Fachgr. 1
N.F. 4/7, 1942; cf. H. LANGERBECK, Gnom. 22, 1950, 375). He derives our
tradition from an ancient recension with variants whose author was Aristo-
phanes of Byzantium or at least some competent Alexandrian. Recourse to an
older, scholarly edition was no longer open to him; on the contrary, the only
sources left to him were the strongly interpolated recensions which uncritical
editors had produced for the book trade. On the other hand k. srcKeEt (Rhein.
Mus. 92, 1943, 94; id.: “Geschichte und Recensio des Platontextes’, ibid. p. 97)
and M. POHLENZ (Nachr. Akad. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1952/5, 99, 7) have pointed
out that the suggestions of Aristophanes of Byzantium (Diog. Laert. 3. 61)
for a trilogical arrangement presupposes the tetralogical one. And so an edition
by the Academy arranged in tetralogies is still probable; it admitted a great deal
that was spurious and can certainly not have been the product of critical textual
treatment. This assumption is quite compatible with the date of the Alexan-
drian editions, though we cannot demarcate Aristophanes’ share. There is also
evidence for an edition by Dercyllidas (2nd/1st century 8.c.).
The theory has been abandoned now that one single copy, salvaged by the
Byzantines, is the archetype of all our manuscripts. The indirect tradition
(Neoplatonists, Stobaeus, etc.) as well as the papyri (nos. 1082-1117 P.); also
Pap. Soc. It. 14, 1957, nr. 1392 f. Cf. also o. vinzENT, Textkrit. Untersuchungen
der Phaidros-Papyri. Diss. Saarbriicken 10962, p. 153 on the Platonic tradition
and bibl. attest so many readings of our manuscripts as ancient that acceptance
of one single archetype with variant readings is inadmissible. }ACHMANN has
correctly pointed out (loc. cit.) that the task of the recension of our Platonic
tradition is not yet complete. He has also emphatically brought it to our notice
544
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
to what a great extent, especially in these texts, distortions and above all addi-
tions have to be taken into account. Apart from the diaskeuasts for the book
trade the intrusion of interpreting glosses will have to be reckoned on. In view
of this situation any hope of being able to reach Plato’s original wording in all
cases is very faint indeed. The first task is to establish what has survived; restora-
tion of the original will by no means be always possible.
Editions and bibl. in 0. G1GoNn, Platon. Bibliogr. Einfiihrungen in das Studium
d. Philos. 12. Bern 1950. A concise summary by p. ross in Fifty Years of Class.
Scholarship. Oxf. 1954, 134. Abundant bibl. data in the works of cAMP and
CANART mentioned below, and in rRIEDLANDER. Complete bibl. for 1950-57
in H. CHERNISS, Lustrum 4, 1960, 5 and 5, 1961, 323. E. M. MANASSE, ‘ Biicher
iiber Pl. Werke in deutscher Sprache’. Philos. Rundschau. Beih. 1, 1957 and
‘Biicher iiber P]. Werke in englischer Sprache’. Ibid. Beih. 2, r96r (with an
excellent introduction on research in Britain from GROTE and JOWETT to
TAYLOR and sHOREY) provides information on recent works in book form with
profound and considered criticism.
Under the conditions indicated above the edition of J. BURNET, 5 vols. Oxf.
1899-1906 is still the standard work. In addition there is an edition in the Coll.
des Un. de Fr., 13 vols., 1920, reprinted many times up to 1961, by a staff of
French scholars. The scholia appear partly in the 6th vol. of the ed. of c. F.
HERMANN, Leipz. 1853. W. C. GREENE, Scholia Platonica. Haverford 1938. The
editions of the commentaries of Proclus, Damascius, Hermias, Olympiodorus
and Chalcidius in GIGON loc. cit., 15. In add. p. touts, Albinos Epitomé. Paris
1945. L. G. WESTERINK, Ausgaben der Kommentare des Proklos und Olympiodoros
zum 1. Alkibiades. Amsterdam 1956. Id., Damascius, Lectures on Philebus wrongly
attributed to Olympiodorus. Amsterdam 1959 (with trans. and comm.). F. AST’s
Lexicon Platonicum (3 vols., Leipz. 1835-38), reprinted Bonn 1956 may be
replaced by one in preparation in Hinterzarten. Index Graecitatis Platon. by T.
MITCHELL, 2 vols., Oxf. 1852. — In addition to the translations mentioned by
GIGON, op. cit., 1r and apart from those referred to in connection with the
individual dialogues recent publications are: R. RUFENER, Die Werke des Aufstiegs
with an introduction by G. Kriiger. Ziirich 1948; id.: Der Staat. Ziirich 1950.
E. HOWALD, Die echten Briefe. Ziirich 1951 (Gr. and Germ.). R. RUFENER,
Meisterdialoge, with an introduction by 0. cicon. Ziirich 1958; by the latter,
Friihdialoge. Ziirich 1960 (all the vols. mentioned in the Bibl. der Alten Welt).
Reprint of B. Jowett, The Dialogues of Plato. 4 vols., Oxf. 1953 (transl. with
introd. and analyses). Similarly scHLETERMACHER’s translation in Rowohlts
Klassiker der Litt. u. Wiss. Vol. 1-6, 1957-59. Good introductions by 8. HOFF-
MANN, Platon. Ziirich 1950. R. C. LODGE, The Philosophy of Plato. Lond. 1956.
G. J. DE vies, Inleiding tot het denken van Pl. 3rd ed. Assen-Amsterdam 1957.
Of leading critical works we also mention here u. Vv. WILAMOWITZ, Platon,
sein Leben und seine Werke. 2 vols., Berl. 1919, sth ed. of the rst vol. by B.
SNELL, Berl. 1959; 3rd ed. of the 2nd vol. by R. sTarK, Berl. 1961. P. FRIED-
LANDER, Platon I. Berl. 1928. 2nd ed. 1954. II (interpretation of the Platonic
writings) 1930. 2nd ed. in 2 vols.: If 1957. Ill 1960. J. GEFFCKEN, Griech. Lit.
545
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Gesch. 2, Heidelb. 1934, 35. To complete the bibliographies referred to above:

G. J. DE vRiES, Spel bij Pl. Amsterd. 1949. H. LEISEGANG, RE 20, 1650, 2742.
E. R. DODDS, The Greeks and the Irrational. Un. of Cal. Press 1951 (repr. 1956),
207. CLOYS DE MARIGNAC, Imagination et dialectique. Essai sur Pexpression du
spirituel par l'image dans les dialogues de Pl. Paris 1951. D. ROSS, Pl’s. Theory of
Ideas, 2nd ed. Oxf. 1953. G. SARTON, A History of Science. Lond. 1953, 395.
JAEGER, vols. 2 and 3 (largely devoted to Plato). Pp. M. SCHUHL. L’Cuvre de Pl.
Paris 1954 — Other recent works: R. ROBINSON, Plato’s Earlier Dialectic. 2nd ed.
Oxf. 1953 (Divides the development of Plato’s logic into three periods on con-
siderations of elenchos, hypothesis, diaeresis). J. DERBOLAV. Erkenntnis und
Entscheidung. Philosophie der geistigen Aneignung in ihrem Ursprung bei Pl. Vienna-
Stuttgart 1954. R. LORIAUX 8.]., L’ Etre et la forme selon Pl. Bruges 1955 (on this
K. W. MILLS, Grom. 29, 1957, 325). J. GOULD, The Development of Pl.’s Ethics.
Cambr. 1955 (with good bibl., but dubious in its interpretation of the develop-
ment). J. V. CAMP and Pp. CANART, Le Sens du mot OEIOX chez Pl. Louvain 1956.
M. VANHOUTTE, La Méthode ontologique de Pl. Louvain 1956. A. D. WINDSPEAR,
The Genesis of Pl.’s Thought. 2nd ed. New York 1956. A. RIGOBELLO, Lintel-
lettualismo in Pl. Padua 1957. L. ROBIN, Les Rapports de I’étre et de la connaissance
d’apres Pl. Paris 1957 (Lectures published posthumously 1932/33). L. SICHI-
ROLLO, Antropologia e dialettica nella filosofia di Pl. Milan 1957. E. VOEGELIN,
Order and History II. Pl. and Aristotle. Louisiana State Un. Pr. (Its guiding
principle is an order whose antithesis is not freedom, but disorder.) R. E. CUSH-
MAN, Therapeia. Pl.’s Conception of Philosophy. Un. of N. Carolina Pr. 1958.
H. J. KRAMER, Arete bei Pl. and Aristoteles. Zum Wesen und zur Geschichte der
plat. Ontologie. Abh. Akad. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1959/6 (About Kramer’s new
conception of Plato, centring round the lecture On the Good, v. supra). E.
MOUTSOPOULOS, La Musique dans I’euvre de Pl. Paris 1959. K. GAISER, Protreptik
und Pardnese bei Pl. Tiibinger Beitrage, 40. Stuttgart 1959. H. GAUSS, Philoso-
phischer Handkommentar zu den Dialogen Pl.s. 1 1. 2. 11 1. 2 Ill. Bern 1952-60.
P. M. SCHUHL, Etudes platoniciennes. Paris 1960. H. D. VOIGTLANDER, Die Lust
und das Gute bei Pl. Wiirzburg 1960. J. sTENZEL, Pl. der Erzieher. Leipz. 1928;
repr. Hamburg 1961, with an introduction by K. Gaiser with a good account of
Stenzel’s work and its significance for Platonic research. — On the later history
of Platonism: P. H. MERLAN, From Platonism to Neoplatonism. The Hague 1953.
E. HOFFMANN, Platonismus und Mittelalter. Vortr. Bibl. Warburg 3, 1923/4, now in
Platonismus und christliche Philosophie, Ziirich 1960, 230. R. KLIBANSKY, The con-
tinuity of the Platonic tradition during the Middle Ages t. Lond. 1950. On the
published parts of the Corpus Plat. Medii Aevi: H. LANGERBECK, Gnom. 25,
1953, 258. Also PI. Arabus 3, 1952 and Pl. Latinus 3, Lond. 1953 and 4, 1961,
with the edition by . waszinx of the Timaeus transl. which was authoritative
throughout the Middle Ages. Association Guillaume Budé. Congrés de Tours
et de Poitiers 3-9 sept. 1953. Actes du Congres. Paris 1954. Recherches sur la
tradition platonicienne. Sept exposés par P. COURCELLE, O. GIGON, W. K. C.
GUTHRIE, H. J. MARROU, W. THEILER, R. WALZER, J. H. WASZINK. Entretiens sur
Pant. class. 3. Fondation Hardt. Vandceuvres-Geneva 1955 (1957). J. C. M. VAN
546
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

WINDEN, Calcidius on Matter. His Doctrine and Sources. A Chapter in the History of
Platonism. Leiden 1959. C. R. VAN PAASEN, Platon in den Augen der Zeitgenossen.
Veriff. d. Arbeitsgem. Nordrhein-Westfalen H. 89 Cologne 1960.

2 ARISTOTLE AND THE PERIPATOS

In spite of his renunciation of the politics of his native city, Plato remained an
Athenian at heart. The charis of his dialogues is only imaginable in these sur-
roundings, as is the art of rhetoric of Isocrates or Demosthenes, inspired by the
greatness of an Athens which had already become past history. Aristotle, how-
ever, came to Athens from the sphere of Ionian culture and in important
sections of his work one can observe clear connections with the older Ionian
philosophers. On the other hand, although he was never a pure positivist, his
work begins to divorce the independent search for facts from the domination
of philosophy and so started the development which leads to the science of
Alexandria. The road upon which Aristotle set out connects large areas of
Greek intellectual life, but it led through Athens and via Plato. The tensions
which entered his work in this way pose innumerable problems, even if they
constitute the secret charm of his books in spite of all the dryness of their form.
The Peripatos was naturally the first place to occupy itself with the tradition
of Aristotle’s life. The oldest biography of the philosopher was possibly the one
by Ariston of Ceos. But it was inevitable that the extensive biographical
literature of the Hellenistic age with its tendency towards anecdotes and fiction
should have claimed the founder of the Peripatos. To some extent the activity
of Hermippus can be detected here. There can be no doubt about the wide
range and variety of form of this tradition, of which a great many, though
largely late, witnesses have survived. They were edited and provided with an
excellent commentary by Ingemar Diiring;! his edition replaced J. Th. Buhle’s?
old collection, since whose appearance only occasional and inadequate publica-
tions had been available.
Apart from the school tradition and belles-lettres the biography in Book 5
of Diogenes Laertius stands on its own. In addition to other material it contains
the chronology of Aristotle’s life by Apollodorus (cf. F Gr Hist 244 F 38) which
also occurs in the chapter of the letter to Ammaeus (cap. 5) devoted to Aristotle
in Dionysius of Halicarnassus. The first part of the vita Menagiana, which was
named after its author, agrees with the article on Aristotle in Suidas. The main
ingredient of the life going under Hesychius’ name is a catalogue of Aristotle’s
works, a parallel to the list of Diogenes Laertius (5, 22-27). A separate group
is formed by three biographies under Neoplatonic influence: the Marciana,
preserved only in the Codex Marc. Gr. 257 which contains a section from
t Aristotle in the Ancient Biographical Tradition. Studia Graeca et Latina Gotoburgensia 5°
Géteborg 1957. Also 0. GIGON, ‘Interpretationen zu den antiken Aristoteles-Viten’. Mus.
Helv. 15, 1958, 147. By the same the ed. of the Vita Mariana Berl. 2962 (KI. Texte 181)
with excellent comm. which covers the whole tradition. M. PLEzIA, ‘Supplementary Re-
marks on Aristotle in the Ancient Biographical Tradition’. Eos 51, 1961, 241; id. Gnom. 34,
1962, 126.
2 Aristotelis opera omnia Graece. Zweibriicken 1791, 3.
547
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Philochorus (F Gr Hist 328 F 223), the Ammoniana, also called Vulgata and the
Latina, whose manuscripts are older than those of the two Greek versions and
which have a relatively important value as sources. Diiring thinks that their
author belonged to the generation of William de Moerbeke, but M. Plezia!
goes a step further and proves that there is some likelihood that William
translated it himself.
The Syrian and Arabic biographies which Diiring presents in an English
translation are derived for the largest part from the same source as the three
Neoplatonic ones; this is the Hivag of a certain Ptolemy whom the Arabs nick-
named el-Garib (ic. the unknown). Very little credit is given now to the
ancient assumption that this was Ptolemy Chennus, but he is believed to be the
Platonist who wrote at the turn of the third and fourth centuries.
In addition to the tradition mentioned there are a host of scattered references
of the most varied origin which are also collected in Diiring’s work.? The nature
of this material can best be illustrated by the fact that important detail was
supplied by the remnants of acommentary by Didymus on Demosthenes (no.
24TP
Aristotle came from an old Greek colony; he was born in 384 in Stagirus
(Stagira is the later form), in the eastern part of Chalcidice. His father Nico-
machus was physician-in-ordinary to Amyntas II of Macedon. In his Hist.
Anim. 497 a 32 Aristotle refers to his father’s Anatomy (€v tats avaropais),
illuminated with diagrams, and much of his scientific interest may have been
paternal legacy, although it did not extend to medical practice. After Nico-
machus’ death Proxenus of Artaneus, who was to play a significant role in his
life, became his guardian.
Aristotle’s first period of life came to an end with his migration to Athens
when he was about 17 and his admission to the Academy. In the subsequent
life of the philosopher three epochs are marked off by clear breaks and we
mention here the question of the division of his works in accordance with these
periods.
Aristotle came to Athens in 368/67. It was the time of Plato’s second Sicilian
voyage which aroused great expectations. The Theaetetus can most easily throw
some light on the questions which preoccupied the Academy at that time. We
may definitely assume that Eudoxus of Cnidos exercised a particular influence
on the new arrival. Aristotle remained his student for fully twenty years until
Plato’s death in the year 348/47. During this time he no doubt looked round in
many directions, but we have no reason to suppose that in these years there
ever was a bréak in his relationship with Plato.
We have already indicated that Plato was not only Aristotle’s great inspira-
tion, but that he also became the problem which determined the course he
™ Gnom. 34, 1962, 129.
* There (164) also a survey of the medieval Aristotle biographies, which possess little
historical value. DURING has included the Aristotle biography of Leonardo Aretino which
was written c. 1430 and which leads on to the humanistic biographies. On the fabulous
tradition J. srorostT, ‘Die Aristoteles-Sage im Mittelalter’. Monumentum Bambergense. Fest-
gabe fiir Benedikt Kraft. Munich 1955, 208.
548
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

struck. Aristotle had to detach himself from Plato if he was to follow his own
destiny, but he could not do this completely without destroying his own
foundations. It is not worth while repeating the anecdotes which used to be
told about the relationship of the two men; Aristotle’s criticism of his teacher is
obvious enough in his works and sometimes it is quite cutting, as in the Anal.
post. (83 a 33) where he calls Plato’s ideas ‘twitterings’. But apart from such
demonstrations of a lack of respect, he also shows deep affection, and however
much the accent may have shifted in the course of time, Aristotle must have
felt personal reverence while he was critically aloof through all the stages of his
development, as shown for instance in Nic. Ethics 1, 4. 1096 a 12.! And we
agree with Jaeger? that in the elegy which Aristotle wrote (D. fasc. 1. 115) on
the founding of an altar and which he addressed to Eudemus (the Cyprian or
the Rhodian?), the man whom the evil are not even entitled to praise is not
Socrates, but Plato himself.
Aristotle and Xenocrates left for Assos in Mysia,3 when Speusippus succeeded
to the headship of the school after Plato’s death. Earlier, two Platonic scholars,
Erastus and Coriscus, had already settled there, and in Plato’s Sixth Letter we
have evidence of his efforts to bring about a lasting bond of friendship between
these two and Hermias, the ruler of Atarneus. For a time Assos, which Hermias
ceded to his new friends, was the seat of a brisk intellectual life. Callisthenes and
Theophrastus also lived there. Hermias, under whose protection they prospered,
succeeded long in availing himself of the weakness of the Persian régime and
built up around Atarneus a small kingdom within the kingdom. In his last years
he conspired with Philip II, since he obviously expected an attempt of the
Macedonian power on Asia. His plans were betrayed, however; the Persian
general Mentor besieged him in Atarneus and captured him finally through
treachery. He was crucified in Susa after unflinchingly refusing to divulge his
plans while under torture. Hermias’ terrible end shocked Aristotle who was
then already living in Macedon, the more so as he was married to his adoptive
daughter and niece Pythias. He wrote the dedicatory epigram (3 D.) for his
memorial in Delphi and honoured his memory in a hymn full of warm feeling
(s D.)
Aristotle stayed in Assos for three years; then, accompanied by his student
and friend Theophrastus, he went to Mytilene in the latter’s native island and
spent two years there. Already at that time the close association with Theo-
phrastus, which continued throughout his life, was of the greatest importance
for Aristotle. In a prefatory notice to his translation of the Historia Animalium,4

! The verses found in the Aristotle-biography of the codex Marcianus are characteristic
for the relationship of the two men; cf. Ww. KRANZ, ‘Platonica’. Phil. 102, 1958, 80, and P.
FRIEDLANDER in the Festschr. fiir Gadamer (Die Gegenwart der Griechen im neueren Denken).
Tiibingen 1960. H. CHERNISS, Aristotle’s Criticism of Plato and the Academy 1. Baltimore 1944;
and ed. 1946, shows that Aristotle, like the other philosophers, formulates Plato’s principles
anew with the notions of his own system and treats them and criticizes them in this formula-
tion. 2 y. sup., 106. There also on the alleged altar inscription.
3 PH. MERLAN, Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 77, 1946, 103, shows, however, that later Aristotle
was considered to be a member of the Academy. 45 Oxi) 1910:
549
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

D’Arcy Thompson pointed out that the biological works of Aristotle, especially
the one mentioned, contain many references to the coasts of Asia Minor, to
Lesbos and Macedon. This may not be decisive for the date of the surviving
works, but these observations prove that Aristotle’s interest and studies were
even then directed actively towards the observation and explanation of natural
historical phenomena. It is quite possible that in the joint work with Theo-
phrastus the considerably younger scholar provided the stimulus in many
respects.
Theophrastus accompanied Aristotle when he was called to Macedon in
343/2 to undertake the education of the heir to the throne. This summons cannot
be explained with the epigrammatical formula that the king of science (which
Aristotle was not at all then) was summoned to educate the king of the future.
We have no way of knowing to what extent Aristotle’s connections with
Hermias and the tyrant’s with Philip played a part, but they probably did.
In Mieza, some way inland from the royal residency Pella, Aristotle guided
the education of the young Alexander. It is understandable that we wish to
form a picture of its plan and of the association of these men who were as
unusual as they were different.! Little is known, but two things can be stated:
the years in Mieza gave Alexander a profound and direct knowledge of the
culture of the Greeks, especially of their great poetry. We can believe the infor-
mation that his teacher made the Iliad one of his assignments, for Aristotle was
actively occupied with Homeric problems (fr. 142 ff. R.). But we have no reason
to think that Aristotle had any influence on Alexander’s political activity. The
former’s political thinking was confined by the proportions of the Hellenic city-
state and did not look to Alexander’s future empire, and when it was being
formed, the philosopher addressed himself to his former scholar in a memor-
andum Alexander or On Colonisation (fr. 648 R.); this writing is lost, but a well-
known passage from a letter (fr. 658 R.) survives in which Aristotle advises
Alexander that he should be the leader of the Greeks and the lord of the bar-
barians; he should treat the ones as his friends and equals, the others as animals
or plants. This passage shows that Aristotle’s notions were in contrast not only
with the ideas of individual sophists about the equality of men, but also with
his royal scholar’s plans for the unity of nations. Several reports show (Ath. 9.
398 e. Plin. Nat. Hist. 8. 44; cf. 10. 185) that Alexander later generously sup-
ported his teacher’s scientific studies, but the fate of Callisthenes necessarily led
to an estrangement. This man, a nephew of Aristotle’s, was already his scholar
in Assos and later helped him to draw up the lists of Delphic victors. He accom-
panied Alexander on his expedition as the recorder ofhis deeds,? but his conduct
was recalcitrant and it was especially through his refusal to prostrate himself
that he fell under the suspicion of being involved in a conspiracy and in 327 he
was executed without a trial. The view of Alexander among the Peripatetics
was influenced by this act of violence, but it was reserved for a later time to
invent the malicious tale that Aristotle had the king poisoned.
' Cf. F, SCHACHERMEYR’S description: Alexander d. Gr. Graz 1949, 66.
2 The remnants F Gr Hist. no. 124.
550
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
It is not possible to tell exactly how long Aristotle remained the prince’s
teacher; it probably went on for two or three years. He remained in Macedon
for a considerable time, but we have no details about his position or what he
did. We hear that he is promised that his native town of Stagirus, which was
destroyed by Philip, will be restored, but also that this promise was not carried
out (fr. 657 R.). Meanwhile Speusippus, Plato’s successor as head of the Aca-
demy, had died. In connection with his succession the Herculanean index of
Academics (p. 38 Mekler) has preserved the interesting information that the
young members ofthe Academy elected Xenocrates, because Aristotle stayed on
in Macedon.! This means that at that time his ties with Plato’s school were still
felt to be strong enough for him to be considered as its leader.
Aristotle did not return to Athens until 335/34. Just at this time Alexander’s
verdict against Thebes robbed the anti-Macedonian circles in Athens of all hope
of successful resistance, and when Aristotle set about establishing his own
school, he knew that he could rely on the protection which Antipater, his
friend from Pella and now Alexander’s representative, loyally accorded him.
He began his teaching in the gymnasium Lyceum which was situated in the
neighbourhood of a shrine to Apollo Lyceus. The covered walk in the grounds
(zepizraros) gave its name to the school of the Peripatetics. It may be presumed
that suitable accommodation was soon found on a piece of land in the vicinity
because of the large numbers which the school drew. Its position in the eastern
part of the city separated Aristotle from the Academy in the north-east. This
distance symbolized the absence of communication between the two seats of
intellectual activity. Xenocrates, who headed the Academy, used to be Aris-
totle’s associate in Assos, but their intellectual attitude had now removed them
far from one another. Aristotle's writings give a good idea of the teaching at the
Peripatos, since his lectures were the basis for them. We also know a good deal
about the external arrangements. The difficult lectures took place in the fore-
noon, those for a wider circle of students were programmed for the afternoon
(€wOwos and deAwos Tepiraros). It has been attempted to relate this system
with the doctores de mane and de sero at the medieval universities.2 Common
meals and common drinking (syssities and symposia) provided an internal bond
for the community which, like the Academy, was a thiasos with a shrine
sacred to the Muses for its centre; the founder himself had worked out the
formalities for such occasions.
Aristotle led his school for close on thirteen years, and then politics once more
sinned against science. Alexander’s death in 323 provoked a new anti-Mace-
donian movement which also hit Aristotle. The attack was the result of the
resentment which later speaks out in the fragments of a speech of Demochares*
in which this nephew of Demosthenes’ defended the psephisma of Sophocles
(307/6), which was an assault on the freedom of the philosophers’ schools in
Athens. In such times the silliest pretext is good enough and so the philosopher
t Cf. PH. MERLAN, in the work quoted p. 549, n. 3.
2 QO. IMMISCH, Academia. Freib. i. Br. 1942, 10.
3 BAITER-SAUPPE, Or. Aft. 2, 341.

S51
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

was threatened with a charge of impiety, because his hymn to Hermias was a
paean and therefore represented the profanation of a religious song. Aristotle
avoided the attack and went to Chalcis where his late mother had owned a
property. There, soon afterwards, in the year 322, he succumbed to a gastric
complaint. Two reports show him in the last period of his life. One is a passage
in a letter (fr. 668 R.) in which he himself admits that, grown so lonely and
depending entirely on himself, he finds an increasing delight in the myths; the
other is his will, whose text was preserved by Diogenes Laertius (5. 11) together
with the last dispositions of his three successors as leaders of the school — Theo-
phrastus, Straton and Lycon.! Aristotle’s old friend Antipater was appointed
executor; Herpyllis, who lived with him after Pythias’ death, the children — his
daughter Pythias of his first wife and Nicomachus, his son by Herpyllis — the
other dependants of the household down to the slaves were all taken care of
with paternal kindness.
There are two ancient judgments on Aristotle’s style which at first sight seem
to be strikingly contradictory. Cicero (Acad. 2. 119) praises the aureum flumen of
the philosopher’s language, while Philodemus (De Rhet. 2 p. 51, 36, 11 S.)
claims that he stammered (eAAtZevv). The reason why these opinions vary so
much is that they are based on different writings. In several places which can
easily be found by consulting Bonitz’ index, Aristotle mentions exoteric books
(eEwrepixol Adyou). Nowadays it is no longer seriously disputed that this refers
to writings which were mainly produced in the early period and which were
meant to have some influence beyond a rather limited circle and so had some
literary pretensions. They are identical with the ‘published’ (éxdedopévor
Adyow?) books which Aristotle mentions in the Poetics (15, 1454 b 18). This group
stands apart from the works which were the product of Aristotle’s teaching and
were planned for this purpose, which is why no attention was paid to their form
and style; and in many cases the long and complex history of the growth of the
surviving works also had an adverse effect on their form. Modern scholars now
habitually refer to the esoteric books in contrast to the term used by Aristotle
for the literary writings, whereas we find that Aristotle himself (Eud. Eth. 1217
b 22) contrasts the Aoyot KaTa diAocodiav with the efwrepiKol. The esoteric
works are often called pragmatiae, and in Aristotle there is a beginning of this
usage. These are the only surviving works, but the attempts of scholarship to
trace remnants of the exoteric works (v. infra) are well founded, for they belong
mainly to the young Aristotle of the time when his early work overlapped
Platonic philosophy in its later form. The comparison with the twofold sphere
of Plato’s activity, ic. the dialogues and the doctrine taught orally only to a
ihe biographical sketch of Ptolemy which is the source of the Neoplatonic biographies
and the Arabic tradition, also contained Aristotle’s will. Its text now also in M. PLEZIA

nari nret penned eatin Tr Mage Ls

its restitution. Whereas DURING (cf. p.547, n. 1) thinks el ee pteibetina
Gnom. 34, 1962, 131, believes that the tradition has some historical value.
* Comparable with Isocrates’ (5. 11) 6 ék8obels Adyos, and Plato’s (Soph. 232 d) de8yp0-
owpeva,

S52
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

very limited circle of scholars as upheld by Dirlmeier,' reveals immediately

the basic difference: Aristotle put down the whole of his internal doctrine in his
esoteric writings.
We possess three catalogues of Aristotle’s writings which date back to
antiquity: one in Diogenes Laertius (5. 22); one appended to the above-mentioned
Vita Menagiana and one by Ptolemy which can be restored from Arabic sources.
Recently Paul Moraux has devoted a scholarly book? to these catalogues, in
which he plausibly traces Diogenes’ list back to Ariston of Ceos} who led the
Peripatetic school after Lycon in the last quarter of the third century B.c. The
register, which gains in importance through these considerations, begins with
nineteen titles; on the ground of individual testimony and general considera-
tions it seems to be practically certain* that they are dialogues written in the
beginning of Aristotle’s career. The only late-comer is the work mentioned
above, Alexander or On Colonisation. While individual titles like Sophistes,
Menexenus or Symposium are already reminiscent of Plato’s dialogues, the frag-
ments of several of these writings also show how close the affinity is with the
intellectual world of the Master.’ The dialogue Eudemus® was named after a
friend of Aristotle's, the Cypriot exile Eudemus who followed Dion to Sicily
and died there. Five years before, when he fell ill in Thessaly, a vision had
promised him that he would return home at the end of that period. This home-
coming was now revealed to his friends at the Academy as the return to eternity.
So, like Plato’s Phaedo, the Eudemus is a discourse about the soul, and under this
title (Ilepi wuy7js) it appears in Diogenes’ catalogue. Aristotle opposes the view
of the soul as a harmony between the parts of the body and argues its pre-
existence and immortality. This is a long way removed from the considerably
later treatise On the Soul in which body and soul are thought of as the two sides
of one single substance and are understood to be matter and form in their
mutual relation.
The Protrepticus is also a work of the years during which Aristotle was a mem-
ber of the Academy; it is an exhortation in the Platonic tradition to a spiritual
life, praising philosophical cognition, ¢pévyats? as the highest man can achieve.
It is still an open question whether the Protrepticus was a dialogue. Jaeger thinks
that it was a propaganda speech; its form goes back to the teaching methods of

1 Sitzb. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. KI. 1962/2, 9.

2 Les Listes anciennes des ouvrages d’A. Louvain 1951. 1. DURING (v. p. 547, n. I) also to be
consulted now. Cf. also v. MASELLIS, ‘Tradizione e cataloghi delle opere arist.’. Riv. Fil. 34,
1956, 337-
3 B, WEHRLI, Die Schule des A. 6. Basel 1952.
4 w. D. ROSS in the Praefatio to A. Fragmenta selecta. Oxf. 1955.
5 In his book Aristoteles. Einfiihrungsschriften. Eingel. und neu iibertr. Ziirich 1961 (Bibl. d.
Alten Welt) 0. GIGON made the noteworthy attempt to enrich by using various sources our
knowledge of the writings which were meant to be introductions to philosophy.
6 0. GIGON, ‘Prolegomena to an Edition of the Eudemus’. In: Aristotle and Plato in the
Mid-fourth Century. Papers of the Symposium Aristotelicum held at Oxford in August 1957. Studia
Graeca et Latina Gothoburgensia 11. Géteborg 1960, 19. The work is important for the pro-
blems of the reconstruction of these writings.
7 On the development ofthis notion JAEGER (v. inf.), 82.
553
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the sophists. Others like D. J. Allen and H. Langerbeck! stress the fact that in his
Hortensius Cicero imitated the Protrepticus in the form of a dialogue and they
also assume that this was the form of Aristotle’s work. In order to account for
the insertion of the address to the Cypriot prince Themison it could be argued
that Aristotle pretended to have written a dialogue about the meaning of
philosophy at the former's request.
In 1869 Ingram Bywater substantially increased the fragments of the Pro-
trepticus? by pointing out that lamblichus’ book of the same title contained
numerous excerpts from the Aristotelian work. Jaeger made an important con-
tribution in his book on Aristotle by increasing their number and defining them.
It is preferable to attribute any inconsistencies in these excerpts to Iamblichus,
who confuses what is Aristotelian with Platonic work, than to an Aristotle,
supposedly freeing himself from Plato’s influence.’
It is impossible to doubt that the Protrepticus is largely Platonic in spirit, but
this does not solve one of the fundamental problems of present-day Aristotelian
scholarship: Was the Platonic theory of ideas as such accepted in this work
as was done in the Eudemus? Jaeger thinks it was and he draws his strongest
support from the passage in Iamblichus (fr. 13 Ross) with the separation of
true reality from images, but lately it has been legitimately doubted+ whether
Aristotle ever defended, as his own conviction, the Platonic theory of ideas
which separates a transcendental reality from the things of the material world
which exist only through participation. According to the present interpre-
tation the important fr.13 (Ross) shows that Aristotle meant by true reality
the normative Physis which is accessible to man through theoretical know-
ledge.
The Protrepticus exerted a wide-spread influence. Its propaganda for the
philosophical way of life alarmed the followers of Isocrates with their rhetorical
teaching programme. P. Von der Miihlls has shown that in his Antidosis oration
of 353 Isocrates probably made allusions to the Protrepticus. If this should be
correct, a probable date would become a certainty. The Admonition to Demonicus,
a product of Isocrates’ school, seeks to counter the Protrepticus by the most feeble

1 Gnom. 26, 1954, 3.

2 W. GERSON RABINOWITZ, Aristotle’s Protrepticus and the Sources ofits Reconstruction. Univ.
of Calif. Publ. in Class. Phil. 16/1, 1957, is rather too sceptical of previous attempts. He
doubts the utilization of the Protrepticus in the Hortensius. On the connection between these
two writings A. GIGON, ‘Cicero und Aristoteles’. Herm. 87, 1959, 154.-1I. DURING, Aris-
totle’s Protrepticus. An Attempt at Reconstruction. Stud. Graeca et Latina Gothob. 12, 1961. Bibl
of earlier attempts in F. DIRLMEIER, Grom. 28, 1956, 343, I and W. SPOERRI, Gnom. 32 “5,
18, 4. sca ,
3 On this question G. MULLER, Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 134, who formulates on p- 134 as
follows: ‘not a Platonizing Aristotle, but a contaminating Iamblichus’.
4 1. DURING, ‘Problems in A.’s Prot.’. Eranos 52, 1954, 139; ‘A. in the Prot.’ in
Autour d’Aristote. Louvain 1955, 81. Id. ‘A. the Scholar’ (p. 576, n.2), 75. R. STARK (v.
p. 576, n. 3), 9. F. DIRLMEIER, Gnom. 28, 1956, 343. Cf. also the bibl. in the two previous
notes.
5 “Isokrates und der Prot. des A.’. Phil. 94, 1941, 259. On the Demonicea: c. J. DE VOGEL
Greek Philosophy. A Collection of Texts 2. Leiden 1953, 24.
554
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

methods. It enjoyed particular esteem with the Neoplatonists and the work had
a deciding influence on Augustine via Cicero’s Hortensius.
We confidently date the dialogue On Philosophy, which comprised. three
volumes in antiquity, in the Assos period! soon after Plato’s death; it had an
equally great influence, as we can observe, for instance, in Cicero’s De Natura
Deorum. Fr. 9 (Ross) proves that Aristotle turned away from Plato’s doctrine of
ideal numbers and it may be assumed that this criticism was only part of a
refutation of the theory of ideas as a whole as we know it from Met. A 9 and
M 4 f. The survey which Book 1 gave of the historical development of philo-
sophy is a significant new element, and at the same time a basic feature of
Aristotle's scientific work. The fragments show that Aristotle reached far beyond
Greek philosophy and included the wisdom of the East in his observations side
by side with Hellenic theology. In this he had a direct association with the
interests of the older Plato and the Academy. It is also clear that after the
criticism of the theory of ideas in Book 2 Aristotle introduced his own cosmology
and theology in the next book; judging from the fragments he struck a bold line
which had a subsequent effect both in his own later work and in other authors.
Here Aristotle produced the proofs for the existence of God, using for his
argumentation in one of these the cyclical motion of the constellations which he
conceived as divine beings with a soul. There is a connection here with the role
of the astral gods in Plato’s later work and in another direction with the domi-
nance of astrology in the Hellenistic age. There is no need to stress the fact that
at the back of all this there arises the question of the extent and weight of
Oriental influences. The loss of this work is the more regrettable as Aristotle
also searched for the foundations of the subjective knowledge of God and so
laid the basis for the religious philosophy of the West. The adaptation of the
Platonic cave-simile belongs in this same context; it was probably told by Plato
himself as a partner in the conversation.
As to the form of the dialogue just dealt with, we know that an introduction
was prefixed to each of the three books and that then the individual themes were
dealt with separately in speeches in the manner of lectures. There is proof (fr.
8. 9. 78 R.) that Aristotle himself was one of the lecturers. The difference with
Plato is as clear as the connection with Cicero, which the latter confirms him-
self (Ad Fam. 1. 9, 23); Jaeger, however, is justified when he warns that we must
not think that Aristotle’s dialogues were wholly uniform.? Individual ones like
the Eudemus or the Gryllus with the subtitle On Rhetoric may have been closer
to the Platonic manner.
We add here two writings of Aristotle’s early career which, though they do
not belong to the exoteric group, are yet of some significance for his relationship
1 Acc. to JAEGER (129), H. LANGERBECK, Gnom. 26, 1954, 5. H. D. SAFFREY, Le Ilepi gud.
d’A. et la théorie platonicienne des idées nombres. Leiden 1955 (p. 13, 3)- Objections in H.
CHERNISS, Gnom. 31, 1959, 36. M. UNTERSTEINER, ‘Ilepi ¢iAocodias di A.’. Riv. Fil. N.S.
38, 1960, 3373 39, I961, 121.
2 —. DIRLMEIER, Sitzb. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1962/2. 13 stresses that in the pragmatiae
there is something like an internal dialogue style, which is evident from the exchange of
question and answer.
i
pee)
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

with Plato.! The book On the Good (Iept raya6od) contained a copy of the
lecture of the older Plato which was discussed above (p. 540). The treatise
On Ideas (Ilept iSedv) is later and belongs perhaps to the Assos period.
Fragments of this work in the commentary of Alexander of Aphrodisias show
that, in opposition to Plato’s theory of ideas, Aristotle defended the notions
which form the basis of his criticism in the Metaphysics.*
The extensive Corpus Aristotelicum which has been transmitted comprises
the books, often called pragmatiae, which are the products of Aristotle’s
research and teaching. Scholarship has made a clean sweep of the earlier belief
that this Corpus represents the complete educational system of the second
Athenian period and was completely written at that time. A mass of problems
was raised at the same time and in most cases only the merest start has been
made in dealing with these. It was particularly Werner Jaeger who showed for
the most important works that they were composed of parts which were
written in different periods and which are only loosely connected. Furthermore
it may be assumed that, in view of the repeated use of these books for teaching
purposes, Aristotle made individual additions which could not always be fitted
in smoothly; and finally, with regard to the manuscript tradition (v. infra), the
vexing question arises to what extent it is possible to trace additions and inter-
polations made by editors.3 The uncertainty in this field was recently demon-
strated in a striking manner when an attempt was made to attribute the greater
part of the Corpus Aristotelicum in its present form to Theophrastus. We hope
that this episode will soon be forgotten, but a series of difficult tasks is waiting
to be undertaken and it would be in the interest of scholars to realize the limits
of what can be achieved when they deal with these questions. Emendations
intended to smooth out the style of the pragmatiae are completely senseless in
any case.
It will be understood from the above that the brief summary, which is all
that can be given here, cannot present the wealth of material in chronological
order. So we start, like the Corpus, with the writings on logic and dialectic
which the Peripatos considered as its tools; next in importance we place the
works in which Aristotle developed his conception of the universe; then follow
the works which deal with man’s soul and his activity in the realm of ethics,
politics and art. The scientific works form the conclusion.
While other systems of antiquity divided philosophy into logic, physics and

‘ P. WILPERT, ‘Reste verlorener Aristotelesschriften bei Alexander von Aphrodisias’.

Herm. 75, 1940, 369, and Zwei arist. Friihschriften iiber die Ideenlehre. Regensburg 1949.
Following JAEGER an earlier period is assumed here, during which A. based himself on the
theory of ideas. :
2 On this now F. DIRLMEIER, Vv. SUP. 25.
3 On the methodological problems 0. GIGON’s discussion of De Caelo: ‘A.-Studien I’
Mus. Helv. 9, 1952, 113; cf. also STARK (v. p. $76, n. 3)) Os
4 J. ZURCHER, A.’s Werk und Geist. Paderborn 1952. 8. J. SCHACHER, Platon-A. I Salzburg
1957 deals with the thesis elaborately and disapprovingly. zURCHER dealt with Plato no less
radically: Das Corpus Academicum. Paderborn 1954. Cf. DIRLMEIER’S bold opinion: Nik
Ethik (v. inf.), 249. : ;

556
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
ethics, Aristotle, like his school, allocated to logic! only a place in the forecourt
of his philosophical building. The Peripatos described the logical works as the
Organon;? they considered that these were the instruments needed for intellectual
work. The two brief treatises at the beginning of the Organon immediately
demonstrate the complexity of the problems which confront the critic of
Aristotle. The Categories’ with the ten basic forms of the statements on Being
were already suspected in antiquity. The present position of scholarship can be
described as accepting the contents as a whole as Aristotelian, while objections
to the form seem to recommend to some the rejection of parts, to others of
the whole work.* The same applies to the treatise De Interpretatione (Ilept
€ppnveias) which deals with the parts and forms of the sentence. Andronicus
rejected it while Alexander of Aphrodisias considered it to be genuine; at any
rate it fits into the framework of Aristotle’s works on logic in so far as these take
to a large extent the actuality of the living language as the starting-point. The
main work in this realm are the four books Analytics ?Avadutixa mpdrepa and
votepa).> The first two (An. priora)® deal with the general theory of inductive
inference; the last two (An. posteriora) with the acquisition of knowledge
through proof and definition, with which the statement of the figures of
deductive inference is connected. One wing, vast indeed, of this building is
formed by the eight books of the Topics (Tomxa),? whose completion is dated
before that of the Analytics. They grew out of dialectic as it was practised both
at the Academy and in the disputes of the sophists’ circles. The author proclaims
his aim at the start: he will teach how in any question probable statements can
be reached by way of dialectic and how these can be successfully defended
without getting into contradictions. The Sophistical Refutations (NodvotiKot
éXeyxor), which oppose the deceptive inferences of the arguments used by the
sophists, are a sort of sequel to the Topics.
Aristotle’s logic is most probably the result of his endeavours to work out
a method for scientific discussion; in this way he came to the analysis of
the syllogism and his doctrine of deductive inference. Modern logic takes
another way, but this does not detract by any means from the importance of his

1 J. M. BOCHENSKI, Ancient Formal Logic. Amsterdam 1951. J. LUCASIEWICZ, A.’s Syllo-

gistic from the Standpoint of Modern Logic. Oxf. 1951; 2nd ed. enlarged 1957. J. LOHMANN,
‘Vom urspriinglichen Sinn der arist. Syllogistik’. Lexis 2, 1950/51, 205. C. A. VIANO, La
logica di A. Turin 1955.
2G. COLLI, A. Organon. Introd., trad. e note. Turin 1955. Important discussion by 1.
DURING, Gnom. 28, 1956, 204. Transl. by EUGEN ROLFES in 2 vols. Leipz. 1925, repr.
Hamb. 1958. Nouvelle Trad. et notes by J. TRICOT, 6 vols. Paris 1946-50, 1 and 2 in new ed.
1959.
3 Ed. by L. MINIO-PALUELLO, Oxf. 1949 (with De interpretatione).
4 On its authenticity: MINIO-PALUELLO in his ed. Oxf. 1949. DE RIJK, Mnem. 4, ser. 4,
1951, 129. M. WUNDT, Untersuchungen zur Metaphysik des A. Stuttgart 1953. Further bibl.
on the question of authenticity in G. VERBEKE, Gnom. 28, 1956, 230.
5 Ed. with Comm. by w. p. ross, Oxf. 1958.
6 G. PATZIG, ‘Die aristotelische Syllogistik. Logisch-philologische Untersuchungen tiber
das Buch A der “‘Ersten Analytiken’’. Abh. Ak. Géttingen. Phil.-hist. Kl. 3. Ser. 42, 1959.
7 Ed. with comm. of the Topica et Soph. Elenchi by w. p. ROSS, Oxf. 1958.
Te oy)
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE
opera-
achievement which, indeed, does not derive from a method of scientific
tion, but from the formal analysis of certain mental operation s.!
For a long time Aristotle's name was allied with an inflexible system; this
idea is the result of medieval Aristotelianism. Only the work of the last few
decades has shown us the dynamic force and sweep of his investigations which
moved between the two poles of empiricism and the speculative method which
was permanently influenced by Plato. Therefore the two works, the Physics and
the Metaphysics, which dominate Aristotelian philosophy, do not represent for us
the record of a system, but the evidence of a seeking which had its origin as
much in Greek thought as in the personality of Aristotle.
The title of Physics (Pvow dxpdacis, 8 books)* must be understood to
comprise the wide scope of meaning which the word physis had in Greek.* The
objects of Aristotle’s extensive enquiries are nature as the scene of all spontaneous
movement and change, the aetiology of these occurrences and their goal, and
this work lays the foundation for this undertaking. So on the one hand it
represents the prerequisite to all scientific studies, but on the other it is con-
tinued so obviously in the Metaphysics, that in our arrangement this tie seemed
more important.
The first two books develop the leading principles (apya) of the Aristotelian
account of nature. Here are developed the correlative notions of matter (vAn)
and form (eédos), by means of which Aristotle overcame the Platonic separa-
tion of a purely intelligible reality and the world of the senses. He replaced the
ideas as transcendental essences by the Eidos, which realized itself in matter and
so restored to the things of our world their validity and substance.* With this
notion as a starting-point Aristotle could formulate the requirement which was
the guiding principle of all his investigations and which he expressed as follows
in Book Z of the Metaphysics: Always start from what the observations of the
senses present as certain and proceed from there to the objects of pure thought.
A third principle, that of movement, is needed in order to make hyle and
eidos enter into the relation which enables the form to realize itself in matter.
For this purpose the meaning of the Greek word xivnots has been broadened
to include, apart from local movement, quantitative growth and qualitative
change. The process of movement, or preferably change (e.g. seed-growth-
plant), represents the transition of the potentiality of the form to its actuality,
™ On a lost work Ilepi Svaipécewr cf. F. DIRLMEIER, Sitzb. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. K1.
1962/2, 29.
* Ed. with comm. by w. D. ROss, Oxf. (1936) 1955, Text Oxf. 1950. W. WIELAND, Die
aristotelische Physik. Untersuchungen iiber die Grundlegung der Naturwissenschaften und die mah
lichen Bedingungen der Prinzipienforschung bei Aristoteles. Gdttingen 1962. The works of §
SOLMSEN: ‘A. and Presocratic Cosmogony’. Harv. Stud. 63, 1958 (Festschr. Jaeger) 265. A
System of the Physical World. A Comparison with his Predecessors. Cornell Un. Press 1960 ae
important for Aristotle’s challenge of his predecessors’ notions of the physical universe
> M. HEIDEGGER, ‘Vom Wesen und Begriff der dos. Aristotles Physik. B. 1’. II Pee
(Milan) 3, 1958, 131 and 26s.
* N. HARTMANN, ‘Zur Lehre vom Eidos bei Platon und Aristoteles’. Abh. Preuss. Ak
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1941/8 showed that it is also possible to think that Aristotle’s ef0s im li
d :
retrograde step towards the Platonic idea. ee
558
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
two notions (dvvauis and évépyeva) which dominate Aristotle’s thought. In
addition to matter, form and movement there is the fourth principle of goal or
purpose, the final cause in addition to the material, formal and efficient causes.
In the development which proceeds from the obscure power of Anaxagoras’
nous via Diogenes of Apollonia’s perception of divine authority derived from
the orderly arrangement of the universe (p. 334) and by way of the prototype
character of the Platonic ideas, Aristotle is the staunchest representative of
teleological thought. For him nature is an impersonal but at the same time
wholly purposeful force which, as we can observe, does nothing without inten-
tion (udrnv) (De Respir. 10. 476 a 12. De Caelo 14. 271 a 33). The movement
towards the form is at the same time a movement towards a naturally given end.
This holds good both for the genesis of the plant and for the development of a
literary genre to its perfect form (Poet. 4. 1449 a 15). What this doctrine meant
for the foundation of the theory of evolution is obvious. It was to honour the
ancient thinker that H. Driesch used the Aristotelian term entelechy to give a
name to his ‘completing factor’.’ Aristotle’s work on space, time and infinity
cannot be dealt with here, but a word must be added about the genesis of the
Physics. Jaeger has made considerable advance in the analysis of this work, as he
has done with other major works of Aristotle’s, and he has presented a whole
range of problems for discussion. He dates the general intellectual contents of
the Physics in Aristotle’s earliest period, even earlier than the oldest parts of the
Metaphysics. On the other hand he thinks that our present version was made up
at a fairly late date by the combination of old and new pieces. Book 7 occupies
a special position; so does Book 8 which the Physics quotes as being earlier and
which was probably the product of his mature years. Here, as elsewhere, many
questions still have to go unanswered, but basically the genesis of the pragmatiae
has no doubt been correctly grasped. It is important in this connection that
Jaeger has pointed out that in the Metaphysics the writings On the Heaven and
On Generation and Corruption are referred to as Physics. This means that at that
time this term described a group of individual lines of research; the combination
of different parts into our present Physics followed later. When this happened
and by whom is one of the most important and difficult problems of scholarship.
Two works must be mentioned in close connection with the Physics. The four
books On the Heaven (Ilepi odpavod)? present a cosmology in which the
theory of the aether plays a decisive role. Aether is added as a fifth to the four
simple substances fire, air, earth and water with their natural tendency to a rising
and falling movement; to this element a circular rotation is natural. This theory,
which is directly related to Anaxagoras (VS 59 A 42. 71) is meant to help to
prove that the cosmos is finite, spherical and eternal. It is closely connected with
the discovery of Eudoxus of Cnidos that the orbits of the planets can be
explained by the motions of spheres which rotate round the earth in a

Philosophie des Organischen. Leipz. 1907, 145.

2 Ed. by D. J. ALLAN, Oxf. 1936. Transl. by J. TRICOT, Paris 1949 (together with the
spurious work On the Universe). 0. GicoN, Vom Himmel. Von der Seele. Von der Dichtkunst.
Ziirich 1950 (Bibl. d. Alten Welt).
539
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

concentrical order. Chapter 8 of Book A of the Metaphysics, whose late date has
been proved likely by Jaeger (372), shows that Aristotle worked continuously
at these questions. Of great importance to him was the stimulus he received
from Eudoxus’ pupil Callippus of Cyzicus, the reformer of the Athenian
calendar. The beginning of the era introduced by Callippus falls in the year
330/29; so his association with Aristotle belongs to the latter’s second Athenian
period. Eudoxus believed that he needed twenty-six spheres to account for the
planetary orbits (including the sun and the moon); Callipus increased their
number to thirty-three, while Aristotle came to fifty-five. The writing On the
Heaven occupies an intermediate position in his efforts for a rational explanation
of the orbits of the heavenly bodies; his development of the theory of aether
advanced towards it, but the conception of the planets as divine reasonable
beings was retained.
The second book ends with the expositions of the spherical shape of the earth
which rests motionless in the centre of the cosmos.! Here Aristotle also records
the conclusion that observations of the stars made at different places north and
south of each other show that the sphere of the earth is of a moderate size, a
significant prelude to Eratosthenes’ calculation of the circumference of the
earth. On the other hand it cannot be denied that it was Aristotle's very authority
which supported the geocentric system with its planetary spheres so effectively
that the progress made by Aristarchus of Samos towards a correct understanding
had no influence.
The treatise On Generation and Corruption (Ilept yevécews kai dOopdas, 2
books)? also belongs within the scope of the Physics; it puts forward a theory of
the two processes mentioned in the title, and adopts a particularly sharp attitude
against the Eleatics.
In any discussion of Aristotle the Metaphysics (Ta peta ta duorkd, 13, with a
14 books)? must occupy an important position. Its author called its subject ‘First
philosophy’; the description Metaphysics originated perhaps with Andronicus,
in whose edition the work was placed after the Physics. The work does not offer
a complete presentation of a system; it is a Corpus composed of different parts;
Jaeger has also successfully analysed this work in his book on Aristotle.4 Bonitz

* This means rejection of the theories of Philolaus, Hicetas, Ecphantides who assumed a
spontaneous motion of the earth round a central fire or its own axis, cf. WEHRLI on Hera-
clides Ponticus fr. 104-108.
2 Ed. by H. H. JOACHIM, Oxf. 1922. Transl. by J. TRICOT, Paris 1951.
3 A. SCHWEGLER, Die Metaphysik des A. Grundtext, Ubersetzung und Kommentar nebst
Erlauterungen und Abhandlungen. 4 vols. Tiibingen 1847, Repr. in 2 vols. Frankf. a. M. 1960
Ed. and comm. by w. D. Ross, 2 vols. Oxf. 1924, repr. with corr. 1958. Ed. by w. an
Oxf. 1957. J. WARRINGTON, Metaphysics. Ed. and Transl. Introd. by w. D. Ross. Lond. ah
L. ELDERS, A.’s Theory of the One. A Commentary on Book X of the Met. Wijsg. teksten a
stud. 5, 1961. Transl. by J. TRICOT, 2 vols. Paris 1948. A. CARLINI, A., La metafisica. Bari 1950
(traduz. e comm.) BONITZ’s comm. on the Met. (1849) was reprinted in 1960.
* Critical arguments on J.’s thesis in Ross’ ed. (v. inf.) and H. v. ARNIM, Wien. Stud 46
1927/28, 1. Recent bibl. in PH. MERLAN, ‘Metaphysik: Name und Gegenstand’. Journ. Hell.
Stud. 77, 1957, 87. Also w. THEILER, ‘Die Entstehung der Metaphysik des A. mit oven
Anhang tiber Theophrasts Metaphysik’. Mus. Helv. 15, 1958, 85. On the elements used
in
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had already preceded him when he separated out those parts which can be
marked as later additions. The appendix to the first book, designated as small a,
comes from a copy of a lecture delivered by Pasicles, a nephew of Eudemus of
Rhodes. Book A was interpolated by the editors; it is an independent treatise by
Aristotle on the various meanings of some terms important to the philosopher.
It is quite evident that Book A stands on its own; it is a summary of Aristotle’s
thoughts on the highest Being, usually designated as ‘Theology’. What remains
after these obvious skimmings have been removed? The composition planned
by Aristotle is still a many-layered structure. Book I, for instance, is a treatise
complete in itself, on the Being and the One, of which Jaeger (209) assumes that
Aristotle incorporated it only during the work on the final form of the Meta-
physics. The difference in the position of the proposition and the asymmetrical
treatment of the notion of substance decisively prove the distance in time
separating the research projects combined by Aristotle, as shown by Jaeger. We
cannot go into the details of later additions and revisions, but two areas can be
marked off. One is the introduction A-E1 (without A), which belongs to the
early period and to a large extent to the years of Assos. It is in accordance with
the methodology invented by Aristotle for posterity that A contains a historical
survey of the efforts of his predecessors regarding the causes of Being. Aristotle’s
criticism in this realm produces some problems of a particular nature.! The
chronology is determined by the fact that in these books, especially in B, the
cognition of the transcendental Being, which is beyond the world intelligible to
our senses, is emphasized as the goal of the new science. Contrary to this we find
in the so-called substance books Z H © another notion of Being which com-
prises the things of the senses and the immaterial, both the transient and the
eternal. In their present arrangement these books with the wide scope of treat-
ment of substance (odoia) form a sort of preliminary enquiry to the discussion
of the immaterial Being. As regards the books not yet discussed we merely refer
to Jaeger’s opinion that in K 1-8, M 9; 10 and N we have parts of the older con-
ception of the Metaphysics which at that early stage was concerned only with
the immaterial Being.”
In Book A of the Metaphysics especially Aristotle made some statements about
his difficult notion of the divine, in which his metaphysical thought found its
completion. As the unmoved first mover his God is the highest form without
any material admixture. As the perfect thought-force he can only direct himself
to the most perfect, himself. This divinity did not create the universe, does not
pervade it like the Logos of the Stoics and does not rule in the sense of the
providence which forms the main point of doctrine of that school. It has been
the construction of Met. A, 0. GIGON, Mus. Helv. 16, 1959, 185. M. WUNDT, Untersuchungen
zur Metaphysik des A. Stuttgart 1953, follows his own, very dubious course, in the analysis
of the strata.
! H. E. CHERNISS, A.’s Criticism of Presocratic Philosophy. Baltimore 1935. Id.: A.’s Criticism
of Plato and the Academy 1. Baltimore 1944, 2nd ed. 1946.
2 HW. WAGNER, ‘Zum Problem des aristotelischen Metaphysik-Begriffes’. Postscript by
PH. MERLAN, Philos. Rundschau 7, 1959, 129. L. ELDERS, A.’s Theory of the One. A Commentary
on Book X of the Met. Assen 1961.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

argued that, compared with Plato, Aristotle has only shifted the chorismos
which now separates God and the world.' Perhaps one could wonder if Aristotle
wholly escapes the reproach which the Platonic Socrates (Phaed. 98 b) levels at
Anaxagoras that he placed mind (nous, as in Aristotle) at the head of the
universe, but fails to utilize this doctrine for an explanation of the internal events
of this universe. Even if Aristotle does not assume a divine creative activity
which influences it, yet the motion of the universe is directed towards him.
Each movement has its entelechy in the form which it wants to realize. The
highest of all entelechies is necessarily the highest of all the forms, God, towards
whom the motion of the whole universe tends. Unmoved himself, he is its
cause, just as the object of desire rouses desire and keeps it in motion. This brief
outline is not, however, meant to conceal copious individual problems. The
variety of the notions proposed is proof of Aristotle’s unceasing struggle of the
thinker with these problems. To what extent can a deity who is pure thought-
force influence the movement of the fixed stars? Or is the ultimate explanation
that the outer heaven, conceived like the planets as a divine soul-endowed being,
seeks its perfection in eternal regular movement in its longing for the deity as
the ever-active (but unmoved) intelligence? Chapter 8 of Book A (cf. supra),
proved by Jaeger to be a later insertion, introduces a new line of thought. While
in the previous sections the movement of the outer heaven is the cause of motion
in the world of things, Aristotle here adds individual movers to the spheres,
corresponding in number with these spheres, in order to account for the
planetary orbits.? It would also be difficult to mark off the realm of nature as the
purposeful creator from that of the divine influence in the various phases of
Aristotle’s thought. In a phrase of Aristotle’s quoted earlier (De Caelo 1, 4. 271
a 33) some difficult questions cross one another: ‘The deity and (?) nature do
(?) nothing without a plan’.
In the Eudemus Aristotle argued the pre-existence and immortality of the soul
in the Platonic sense. Through stages which are difficult to trace separately,
he came to the convictions which he confirms in his treatise On the Soul (IMepi
puyjs, 3 books).4 Since the subject is not the human soul alone, but all the
stages of animate life, the work can be considered as an introduction to

' H. LANGERBECK, Gnom. 26, 1954, 7. On A.’s notion of the divine: w. THEILER, ‘Ein
vergessenes Aristoteleszeugnis’.Journ. Hell. Stud. 77, 1957, 127. W. J. VERDENIUS, ‘Tradi-
tional and Personal Elements in A.’s Religion’. Phronesis 5, 1960, 56.
* But cf. ALLAN (v. inf.). On the question of the transcendental cause of motion the
partially contradictory passages in W. K. GUTHRIE’S bilingual ed. of On the Heavens. Loeb
Class. Libr. 1939. KL. ORHLER, ‘Der Beweis fiir den unbewegten Beweger bei A.’. Phil. 99,
1955, 70. PH. MERLAN, ‘Aristotle’s Unmoved Mover’. Traditio 4, 1946, I. H. A. WOLFSON,
“The Plurality of Immovable Movers in A. and Averroés’. Harv. Stud. 63, 1958 (Festschr.
Jaeger), 233.
3 v. p. §75 On NUYEN’S book.
4 Ed. by w. b. Ross (rec. brevique adnot. instr.), Oxf. 1956. The comm. ed. of ER. A.
TRENDELENBURG, Berl. 1877, was photomechanically reprinted in Graz 1957. A Cura di
A. BARBIERI, Bari 1957. Transl. and comm. W. THEILER, Berl. 1959. Transl. by 0. GIGON, Vom
Himmel, Von der Seele. Von der Dichtkunst. Ziirich 1950 (Bibl. d. Alten Welt). J. tR1coT,
Paris 1959.
562
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GRABK CITY STATR

Aristotle’s scientific works. On the other hand it contains such essential state-
ments on man that we place it before the works dealing with his existence and
activity.
The leading idea is now derived from the relationship of body and soul.
These represent two aspects of one single substance; they stand in a mutual
relationship of matter and form, of dAn and efSos. As a form of the essence of
life the soul is at the same time its entelechy according to Aristotle’s doctrine.
The soul’s action manifests itself in five different soul forces whose influence in
the realm of the animate presupposes a hierarchy, but this should by no means
be associated with the modern conception of the evolution of one species from
another. The simplest species of soul, that possessed by plants, only has the
power of nourishment (6pemrixdv), to which that of propagation is added.
Animals possess the faculty of sense perception (aic@n7ixdv) which varies
greatly in individuals; in the highest species desire (épexrixdv) and locomotion
(xevntexov) is added. But man alone has the power of thought (Svavontixdv).
Aristotle again gives an historical survey in Book 1; then he deals more
elaborately, after the separation of the various powers of the soul! with percep-
tion through the five senses; to these is added the ‘combining sense’ which can
relate the various sense observations to one uniform object. The nous, to which
the concluding part is devoted, is alone capable of forming general notions and
of proving regular occurrences. It alone remains free of the union with the
corporeal; it apparently enters the embryo from outside and is, at this stage of
Aristotelian thought, the only part of the soul which lives on. It is hard to say
how Aristotle envisaged this after-life; but since there was definitely no question
of the preservation of the whole soul, he cannot have meant immortality in
the form of the Orphic-Pythagorean belief in the hereafter and of Platonic
myths.
A series of small works follow here which turned up as a compilation under
the title Parva Naturalia? in Aegidius Romanus (Gilles de Rome) at the end of the
thirteenth century. Aristotle’s own comments on the phenomena which are of
common interest to body and soul (436 a 7) most aptly characterize the nature
of these writings. The titles which also indicate their contents are: On Perception
and the Perceptible (Ilepi atcOjcews Kat aiobytdv), On Memory and Recollection
(Ilepi pvjpys Kat dvaprvjcews), On Sleeping and Waking (Ilept vavov Kai
éypnyopoews), On Dreams (Ilepi evuviwv), On Divination in Dreams (Hept
ris Kal’ ivov wavtixis),? On the Long and the Short Life (epi paxpyBrdtytos
Kal BpaxvBidryTos); three works followed which probably constituted a uni-
form whole: On Youth and Old Age (Uepi vedryntos Kai ynpws), On Life and
Death (Ilepi Cwijs Kai Oavdrov), On Breathing (Ilepi avamvojs).
These writings correspond in many respects with the biological works in

! On the two parts of the soul (dAoyov: 6 Adyov éyov within which dpovnas: vos) G.
MULLER. Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 129.
2 Ed. and comm. by w. D. ross, Oxf. 1955. Transl. J. TRICOT, Paris 1951.
3 Ar. De insomniis et De divinatione per somnum. A New Edition of the Greek Text with the
Latin Translations, by H. J. DROSSAART LULOFS. 2 vols. Leiden 1947.
563
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

their considerations of the conditions and termination of animal life. It is

important that Aristotle consistently takes the heart as the seat of the functions
of the soul, a momentous retrogression after Alcmeon’s findings. In the intro-
duction to his authoritative edition, W. D. Ross has proved that it is likely that
the writings mentioned belong to Aristotle’s middle creative period (Assos,
Mytilene, Macedon), and largely before the work On the Soul.
In the Corpus Aristotelicum three works have been preserved which deal with
the forms and conditions of moral excellence: the Nicomachean Ethics ?H@txa
Nixopdyera, 10 books),! the Eudemean Ethics HOcxa Evérpeva, 7 books) and
the Great Ethics ’H@uxd peydda, 2 books).? At present hardly any one will
doubt the authenticity of the first of these three didactic works, and only few
the late date of the last. The Great Ethics, which bears this title in spite of the fact
that it has the smallest size of the three works, belongs to the late-Hellenistic
tradition of the Peripatetic school. We follow Dirlmeier’s dating? who in his
commentary attempts to prove that the unknown Peripatetic is not the com-
poser of the Great Ethics, but the editor of the earliest outline of the ethics of the
Master himself. The little treatise On Virtues and Baseness (Ilept aper@v Kat
Kaktav) must have been written considerably later.
A problem which has not yet been solved by any scholar on Aristotle is posed
by the Eudemean Ethics, although the voices in favour of its genuineness are
increasing. An explanation of its title, like that of the Nicomachean Ethics, as a
dedication to the person concerned, cannot be upheld, since such a dedication of
a didactic work does not agree with the usage of the time. The assumption is
probable, but not certain, that the two works were named after their editors. In
the one case this would be Nicomachus, Aristotle's son who was named after
his grandfather, in the other Eudemus of Rhodes, who must not be confused
with the title role of the early dialogue. This pupil of Aristotle’s and friend of
Theophrastus’ is also notable as the first historian of mathematics and astronomy
of whom we know.
Contrary to the opinion that Eudemus was the editor of Aristotle’s work, it has
been claimed that he wrote the ethics called after him. This was propounded by
L. Spengel more than a century ago and found a great following. It is of
importance in this problem that, in contrast with the principles of the Nic.
Ethics, the moral demands of the former work have a theological basis. After
P. Von der Miihll (Gétt. r909) and E. Kapp (Freib. 1912) had already attempted
™ A cura di A. PLEBE, Bari 1957. Comm. by H. H. JOACHTM, Oxf. 1951. Transl. with
penetrating comm. by F. DIRLMEIER, Berl. 1956, 2nd ed. 1960. Transl. by 0. GIGon, Ziirich
1951 (Bibl. d. Alten Welt). J. rRICOT, Paris 1959. R. A. GAUTHIER and J. y. Jour, Nik. Eth.
Introd., trad. et comm. 2 vols. Louvain 1958/59.
? Transl. and extensive comm. by F. DIRLMEIER, Berl. 1958.
3 ‘Die Zeit der Gr. Ethik.’ Rhein. Mus. 88, 1939, 214. There bibl. 214, I. Now also
extensively discussed by F. DIRLMETIER in the introduction to his translation (v. prev. n.).
I. DURING, Gnom. 33, 1961, 557, agrees with his opinion after some objections. On this
question also D. J. ALLAN, Journ. Hell. Stud. 77, 1957, 7. 0. GIGON, Mus. Helv. 16, 1959, 209
again devaluates the Great Ethics as a poorly compiled handbook. Survey of the older bibl.
in E. J. SCHACHER, Studien zu den Ethiken des Corpus Aristot. I. Stud. zur Geschichte und
Kultur des Altertums 22, 1940.

564
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

in their dissertations to restore the work to Aristotle, Jaeger showed that the
difference between the two ethics Just indicated corresponded with Aristotle’s
development as he sketched it in his book. A further complication in solving the
troublesome problem of whether this is the work of one of Aristotle’s scholars
who echoes the Master’s thoughts here or who edited the result of his research,
is the fact that Books 5-7 of the Nic. Ethics are similar to Books 4-6 of the Eud.
Ethics and are no longer transcribed in the manuscripts of the latter work. But
it is altogether likely that they primarily belong to the work called after
Nicomachus.!
The Nic. Ethics, which is dated with some confidence, after the tenor of the
work, in the last period of Aristotle’s creative activity, reveals the contrast with
Plato more clearly than any other work excepting the Politics. No longer does
man’s morality depend on his looking up to the world of eternal essences in
which the idea of the good sheds its light over everything; in a disproportionately
higher degree than Plato, Aristotle takes the hic et nunc of man’s actions into
account. The Nic. Ethics is not an urgent appeal to reshape one’s life; it presents
an analysis of morality as it appears under the various conditions of reality; and
consequently the critical considerations are varied with a series of portrayals of
types, whose force of description and sharpness of observation is later carried on
in a different manner by Theophrastus in his Characters.
It is not with Plato’s educational zeal, but rather with the attitude of the
analysing scientist that Aristotle enquires into the nature of happiness
(eddayiovia), indisputably the highest good which our actions can acquire. He
finds it in an activity of the soul in the meaning of its essential excellence (aper7%,
I, 13. 1002 a 5). It is the task of the following books (2-6) to define the forms of
this excellence. The system of the four Platonic cardinal virtues is abandoned and
replaced by one of rich variety. It is of decisive importance that the virtues of
character, such as courage, high-mindedness, gentleness, are contrasted with the
virtues of intelligence. Of these latter sophia, which leads to the enduring truths,
is attainable by few only, while phronesis is indispensable for any moral action.
The development of the notion of phronesis is significant in the history of ideas;
it has now lost the Platonic sense of the transcending vision and has become
practical intelligence.” The tension between the virtues of character and phronesis
which controls them is of fundamental importance for Aristotle’s ethics. The
Socratic moral knowledge has been abolished in the twofold meaning of the
word. Since the virtues of character are not based on knowledge, but on a
constant directing of the will, this realm of man’s soul has been granted its due
importance. On the other hand, the essentially Greek Socratic line of thought is
continued in the indispensable control by phronesis. Essentially Greek also is
another leading thought in these ethics, the idea of proportion on the basis of

™ Recently it was attempted by G. LIEBERG, Zet. 19, 1958, 14, to attribute the three books
to the Eud. Eth. and to account for the appearance of these books in both places with the
hypothesis that books 5-7 of the Nic. Eth. had been lost and were replaced by 4-6 of the
Eud. Eth. - On the style: r. HALL, ‘The special vocabulary of the Eudemian Ethics’. Class.
Quart. 9, 1959, 197. 2 Cf. JAEGER (v. inf.), 249.
Te 565
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

which various ways of behaviour appear as the right mean between extremes."
The very significance of ‘mesotes’ shows that the descriptive tendency of Aris-
totle’s ethics by no means excludes a normative nature of the knowledge gained.
The following books? do not form the same strict unity; of their contents we
can only single out for special mention the elaborate essay on friendship and the
twofold discussion of the problem of desire.* When Aristotle has presented in
this way a phenomenology of morality with his deep sympathy for the whole
breadth oflife, he makes his personal confession in Book 10 where he describes
scientific endeavour as the highest attainable form ofliving. But the praise of the
purest happiness fulfilled in enquiry* is at the same time a Platonic legacy; for
Aristotle, the philosopher’s road also comes to its perfect end with the vision of
the divine. In his Republic (9. 582 c; 585 ¢) Plato connected true and highest
desire with the philosopher’s striving after knowledge of the Highest. In
Aristotle’s work the phrase occurs which the older Greeks would have considered
hybris: man should not be satisfied with what is human only but follow the
highest given to him and so aspire to immortality. For: “If, compared with man,
the spirit is something divine, then a life in the spiritual is something divine
compared with human life’. This is the way in which the duotwous Ge@ opens
up, in Aristotle’s opinion, the possibility for man to reach the divine.
The end of the Nic. Ethics forms a transition to the subject of the Politics, a
feature which shows that Aristotle thought that these two fields were closely
allied parts of a science which applied to the individual as well as to society.
Aristotle would not have been Plato’s student if the problems of politics had not
stirred him at an early stage. Among the exoteric works appear a Politicus (2
books), a treatise On Justice (Ilepi duxavoodvns, 4 books)5 and an On Royalty
' This does not mean formalism, cf. ALLAN (v. inf.), 168. H. J. KRAMER, Arete bei Platon und
Aristoteles. Abh, Ak. Heidelb. Phil. hist. Kl. 1959/6, 342 and further passim, argues with great
emphasis that the pecdrns-doctrine must be derived from Plato. He attacks KALCHREUTER,
JAEGER and WEHRLI who think that it was derived from medical thought; essentially con-
veyed in W. JAEGER, ‘Medizin als methodisches Vorbild in der Ethik des A.’. Zeitschr. fiir
phil. Forschung 13, 1959, 513. G. LIEBERG, Zet. 19, 1958, 59 thinks that Aristotle owed the
doctrine to Speusippus. Probably none of these assumptions is tenable and account should
be taken of this doctrine being anticipated in ancient Greek thinking, not in the last place
in the religion. — General: R.-A. GAUTHIER, La Morale d’A. Paris 1958. M. S. SHELLENS, Das
sittliche Verhalten zum Mitmenschen im Anschluss an A. Hamburg 1958.
2 M. VAN STRAATEN and G. J. DE VRIES, ‘Notes on the VIIth and the [Xth Books of A.’s
Nic. Ethics’. Mnem. S. 4, vol. 13, 1960, 193. JAN VAN DER MEULEN, A. Die Mitte in seinem
Denken. Meisenheim/Glan 1951.
3 GODO LIEBERG, Die Lehre von der Lust in den Ethiken des A. Zet. 19, Munich 1958; ‘Die
Stellung der-griech. Philosophie zur Lust von den Pythagoreern bis auf A.’. Gymn. 66,
1959, 128. A.-J. FESTUGIERE, A. Le Plaisir (Eth. Nic. VII 11-14. X 1-5). Introd., trad. et notes.
Paris 1960 (first 1937). G. MULLER in his excellent essay, ‘Probleme der aristotelischen
Eudaimonielehre’. Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 121, stresses that A. returns to pre-Platonic philo-
sophy (Empedocles, Anaxagoras, Democritus) by placing happiness in intellectual enquiry.
+ On Gewpia ANTONIE WLOSOK, Laktanz und die philosophische Gnosis. Abh. Ak. Heidelb.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1960/2, 17.
5 Pp. MORAUX, A Ia recherche de I’Aristote perdu. Le dialogue ‘Sur la justice’. Louvain-Paris
1957, @ circumspect, though not necessarily hypothetical reconstruction, which places the
dialogue in a certain proximity to Plato’s Republic.
566
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

(Ilept BaovAedas, t book). The last treatise was probably written when he held
his teaching post in Macedon.
We know that his interests in questions of this nature moved Aristotle to
collect facts on a large scale; the results are lost to us with one gratifying excep-
tion. There were the Customs of the Barbarians (Népupra BapBapurd), a title which
recalls early Ionian enquiries; the Pleas of the Greek Cities (Aucaudspara
‘ENAnvidw@v méAewv) and especially the Constitutions (MoAuretat), a collection
of 158 Greek constitutions of a wide scope which were no doubt compiled
with the aid of many assistants. A papyrus find of the year 1891 (nr. 98 P.)
yielded the greater part of the Athenian Constitution (A@qvaiwv modAcreia),!
of which smaller pieces had come to light before. It forms the first book of the
complete work and was written by Aristotle himself. The first part, which
describes the early historical development, is followed by a concise account of
the political institutions of Athens. The mixture of irregularities and a generally
fluent style reflects its contents. However gratifying certain valuable new views
may be, there is some disappointment over many mistakes and a certain aristo-
cratical prejudice, as, for instance, in his criticism of the coup of 411. It is apparent
that Aristotle worked in a hurry and was dependent on sources which were
not always reliable; in such a difficult task this was an almost inevitable
condition, and the treatise was only a small part of his gigantic work. On
one occasion Olof Gigon? remarked that we would be surprised at the con-
trast between his credulity in this realm and his enormous discernment in
biological matters, if Aristotle's complete works on cultural history had been
preserved. It probably is no accident that his historical works perished in
antiquity.
It seems tempting to say, as has often been done, that Aristotle collected
material on such a large scale in order to build up his theoretical structure of the
best state on the broadest empirical basis. But it does not simply go without
saying that the Constitutions were a preliminary work to the Politics. In the first
place it is obvious that collecting on such a large scale, dependent as it was on
assistants, could not have been carried out until Aristotle’s last, i.e. his second
Athenian, period. The mention of the expedition to southern Italy which was
undertaken by Alexander of Epirus, fixes 330 as the upper time limit for the
completion of the Dicaeomata; the Athenian Constitution was not published before
329/28.3 On the other hand, the history of the genesis of the Politics (IloAurexa,
8 books) goes back a long way. It was outlined by Jaeger, disputed by v. Arnim,

t Of particular importance: K. v. FRITZ-E. KAPP, Aristotle’s Constitution of Athens. New

York 1950. Ed. by H. OPPERMANN, repr. Leipz. 1961.
2 Der Bund. Bern 26. 9. 1958. The work of K. v. FriTz, ‘Die Bedeutung des A. fiir die
Geschichtsschreibung’. Entretiens sur l’antiquité classique (Fondation Hardt) 4, Vandoeuvres-
Geneva 1956 (1958), 85, has a different point of view. E. RIONDATO, Storia e metafisica nel
pensiero di A. Padua 1961.
3 JAEGER (v. inf.), 350. Bibl. on’A@. od. in G. T. GRIFFITH, Fifty Years of Class. Scholarship.
Oxf. 1954, 162, esp. n. 62.
+ Ed. by w. v. ross, Oxf. 1957. Transl. by 0. GIGON together with The Athenian Con-
stitution. Ziirich 1955 (Bibl. d. Alten Welt).
567
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

but recently Theiler has corroborated its major points in a penetrating study.!
We shall first briefly survey its structure.
Book 1 deals with the general conditions of social life, considered to be
the characteristic form of existence for man, in Aristotle’s famous phrase
Lov modtixdv. He also discusses the question of slavery; he adopts the con-
servative attitude in his defence of the dominion of the free over those who are
born in servitude, or of Greeks over barbarians, which he considers to be a
condition based upon nature. A few years later the Stoa and its theory of life
would tear down the barriers which Greek thinkers had been shaking since the
days of the sophists; I need only to recall the passage from Alcidamas’
Messeniacus (p. 356). But it should not be overlooked that even though in the
Nic. Ethics Aristotle considers the slave to be a living tool, he thinks that friend-
ship is possible for him because he is a human being. It is typical for Aristotle’s
thought that he cannot allot a place to physical work in his scheme of values,
since for him human happiness finds its completion in intellectual activity. Book
2 gives the historical survey which we expect to find in an Aristotelian didactic
work with such a lofty purpose. Here he discusses his predecessors in theoretical
constitutional models, examines various legislators, and especially the constitu-
tions of Sparta, Crete and Carthage. His criticism deals very extensively with
Plato’s political thought, and also refers to the Laws, though not always
correctly. In Book 3 Aristotle deals with some basic principles of political
engineering and in one of the best-known parts of the work he discusses healthy
and degenerate constitutions. The continuance of Plato’s criticism of various
types of constitution in his Republic is quite clear here. Monarchy, aristocracy and
constitutional democracy are contrasted with the degenerate forms tyranny,
oligarchy and unbridled democracy. In the following parts of the work Books
4 to 6 form a distinctive group dealing with the historical reality of political life
in its various forms and transitions, the defects incidental to them and the
possibilities of eliminating them. This is followed up with the plan for the best
state in Books 7 and 8. It may lack the consistency and completeness of the
Platonic models, but it is also free of the extreme demands made in these.
Generally, however, Aristotle followed his teacher in that he attached the
greatest significance to education as the most important prerequisite for a healthy
development of a state. Education is to make possible the growth of a society in
which the purpose of the state is fulfilled: to offer to human nature the possibility
to develop its characteristic talents. The model of the best state remained in-
complete, but Aristotle hardly intended to give detailed instructions for its
administration. His planning did not go beyond the boundaries of the old Greek
city-state. In the matter of the distribution of authority, which he considers to
be fundamental, he weighs in an undogmatic way the possibilities actually

* JAEGER (v. inf.), 271 ff. v. ARNIM, Zur Entstehungsgesch. d. arist. Pol. Sitzb. Ak. Wien.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 200, 1924; Wien. Stud. 46, 1928, 45. W. THEILER, ‘Bau und Zeit der arist. Pol.’.
Mus. Helv. 9, 1952, 65. H. HOMMEL, Festschriftf.Zucker. Berl. 1954, 205 thinks of an edition
by a pupil.
* A. does not yet use the expression ochlocracy and simply says 8nuoxparia,
568
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
obtaining, but as a thinker of moderation he is inclined to entrust the mainten-
ance of balance in the state to those who, because of their talent or educa-
tion, are suitable to form a class which stands between the two extremes.!
It cannot be denied that the Politics, as we have it, shows in broad outlines that
the author worked according to a definite plan. The analysis has demonstrated,
however, that this structure was built up by combining parts which were
written at different times. Here, too, a great deal of detail remains dubious,
although some large sections have been marked off and dated authoritatively.
Jaeger places the discussion on the best state in Books 7 and 8 at the beginning.
Books 2 and 3 were prefixed to these as an introduction, so that we may
recognize in these four books the original Politics composed in Assos. Of course,
some difficult problems remain to be solved,? especially with regard to the
chronological classification of Book 2. On the whole, however, there is agree-
ment that Books 4 to 6 must be allotted to the second Athenian period. There-
fore a substructure froma collection of the various constitutions in the HoAuretau
is seriously questioned for these parts of the Politics, with which, according to
Jaeger, Book 1 must also be included as a preface of a later date.
Among Aristotle's numerous works none can be compared in influence with
one small treatise, which is, moreover, incompletely preserved. A history of the
criticism of the Poetics (Ilept wountixfjs)3 would have to review an important
part of the intellectual life of the western world; at the same time it would be a
history of widespread and influential errors and absurdities. In the last category
the most momentous was the adoption of the Poetics as a binding book of rules,
which it is no more than ‘an apology for the national Greek poets and directions
for correctly understanding them’ (Christ-Schmid). The great observer of all
living things, from the plants to the soul-endowed stars, also drew poetry
within the circle of the things which he wanted to investigate on the laws of
their nature and growth. Early indications of such a trend are already observable
in the sophists, of whom Gorgias was the most active in this respect.‘ It was also
observed long ago that Plato’s criticism of the national poetry was one of the
most important starting points for Aristotle.’ He did not sally forth to save

! £, BARKER, The Political Thought of Plato and Aristotle. New York 1959. R. WEIL, Aristote
et histoire. Essai sur la ‘Politique’. Etude et comm. 36. Paris 1960.
2 THEILER (v. p. 568, n. I), 78.
3 F.L. LUCAS, Tragedy in Relation to A.’s Poetics. Lond. 1928. 6th impr. 1949. 8. H. BUTCHER,
A.’s Theory of Poetry and Fine Art. With a prefatory essay by John Gassner. 4th ed. New York
(Dover Publications) 1951. DANIEL DE MONTMALLIN, La Poétique d’A. Texte primitif et
additions ultérieures. Neuchatel 1951. L. COOPER, The Poetics of A., its Meaning and Influence.
Cornell Un. Pr. 1956. H. HOUSE, A.’s Poetics. A Course of Eight Lectures. Lond. 1956. Scholar-
ship will have to take a stand particularly with regard to the erudite, witty, but often
dubious book by G. F. ELSE, A.’s Poetics, The Argument. Leiden 1957. Recent transl. by 0.
cIcON, Vom Himmel, Von der Seele. Von der Dichtkunst. Ziirich 1950. (Bibl. d. Alten Welt.)
Reference must also be made to L. RICHTER, Zur Wissenschaftslehre von der Musik bei Platon
und A. Deutsche Ak. d. Wiss. Berlin. Schriften der Sektionf. Altertumsw. 23, 1960. For bibl.
on the Poetics cf. p. 570, n. I.
+ M. POHLENZ, ‘Die Anfange der gr. Poetik’. GGN 1920.
5 G. FINSLER, Platon und die arist. Poetik. Leipz. 1900.
569
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Homer and tragedy; his aim was to evaluate the form and the effect of great
poetry without the educational and political objects of Plato.
The title of one of the lost dialogues, On the Poets (Lept ont&v, 3 books)
shows that Aristotle was interested in literary questions at an early stage. The
date of the composition of the Poetics cannot be accurately determined; it
belongs to the later rather than the middle period of Aristotle’s creative activity.
Book 1, the only surviving part, deals with tragedy and the epic. It may be
regarded as certain that the subject of Book 2 was the iambos and comedy. In
the preserved book the part on tragedy is far more extensive than the one on
epic. The starting-point is formed by a definition which is extraordinarily
characteristic for the tendency and purpose of the Poetics and which contains a
problem which has sparked off a controversy of principles lasting for centuries:
‘A tragedy is the imitation of an action which is serious and also, as having
magnitude, complete in itself; in language with pleasurable accessories, each kind
brought in separately in the parts of the work; in a dramatic, not in a narrative
form, 6v €Aéov Kai ddBov repaivovea THy TOV ToovTwY TaGnLaTwY KdAapaw’
The problem of Aristotelian catharsis is in the interpretation of the last clause.
This is not the place for relating the history of this interpretation’ and we can
forgo it, the more so as it has been cleared up by a line of scholarly research
which led from J. Bernays? via F. Dirlmeier? to W. Schadewaldt.+ According
to this interpretation the Aristotelian catharsis means neither the purging of the
emotions mentioned by Aristotle in the sense that they are ennobled (as especially
Lessing, Hamb. Dram. 78. Stiick), nor the betterment of the man who is freed
from an excess of such emotions or their harmful residue. Two things decided
the correct solution; first the understanding that the term catharsis originates in
the field of medicine where it means a relieving secretion; in the second place a
reference to what Aristotle says on catharsis in Book 8 of the Politics (1341 a
21-24 with 1342 a 1-18). Interpreted along these lines the result is that in the
Poetics Aristotle, always aiming at the functional in his study of phenomena,
understood the effect of tragedy as the relief from the emotions aroused in it,
combined with pleasure. The specific pleasure in tragedy, pleasure in the excite-
ment of “horror and misery’ (rather than ‘fear and pity’) and in the relief at
the disappearance of these feelings, is harmless for man as a cathartic pleasure,
' L. COOPER and A. GUDEMAN, A Bibliography of the Poetics of A.New Haven 1928 (sup-
plement by M. T. HERRICK, Am. Journ. Phil. 52, 1931, 168) records some 150 statements on
this question. A good deal about the history of the problem in M. KOMMERELL, Lessing und
A, Frankf. 1940, 268. A good survey of the arguments in H. FLASHAR, ‘Die medizinischen
Grundlagen-der Lehre von der Wirkung der Dichtung in der gr. Poetik’. Herm. 84, 1956,
12; more bibl. by the same in Gnom. 31, 1959, 210. C. W. VAN BOEKEL, Katharsis. Een filo-
logische reconstructie van de psychologie van A. omtrent het gevoelsleven. Diss. Nijmegen. Utrecht
1957 (with bibl. up to 1955).
* Zwei Abhandlungen iiber die arist. Theorie des Dramas. Berl. 1880. Previously Grundziige
der verlorenen Abhandlung des A. iiber Wirkung der Trag. Breslau 1857. But it must not be for-
gotten that H. WEIL, Verh. der 10. Vers. deutscher Philologen. Basel 1848, 131 had led the way
with the correct interpretation of catharsis.
3 “Kadapots rabyudrwv’, Herm. 75, 1940, 81.
+ “Purcht und Mitleid’, Herm. 83, 1955, 129.
570
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
according to Aristotle. In this way he arrives at a view which rejects Plato’s
radical banishment of the tragic play from society.
It is not Aristotle's fault that his important statement about djwapria (13.
1453 a 10) was long mistaken for moral guilt and so had a fatal influence on the
interpretation of Greek tragedy. Aristotle was definite enough in his exclusion
of moral defect (kaxéa kal poyOnpia) from his notion of dwapria as the
failure of the righteous man.!
The plot and the dialogue, which are its vehicle of expression, are given the
greatest prominence by Aristotle. This emphasis relegates the chorus as a con-
stituent element of the tragic work of art to the background and we see that in
this way the original unity is dissolved and that tragedy is on its way to becoming
a literary work to be read rather than to be seen.
Two more remarks seem to be called for. What Aristotle understands as the
effect of pleasure proper to tragedy has no connection whatever with the joyful-
ness which Hélderlin praises in his epigram on Sophocles’ works. There is at
most a faint indication in Aristotle’s Poetics of the modern view of the tragic as a
very special way of looking at the world. Nor should our admiration for the
acuteness with which this form of literature is analysed and described in many
essential features blind us to the many surprising opinions which are quite alien
to ours. To call Oedipus a ‘middle’ character between good and evil seems an
inadequate description to us, and one of Euripides’ finest plays, Iphigenia in
Aulis, is censured because the heroine shows a lack of consistency in her nature
by her change from fear of death to readiness for sacrifice.
It has now been correctly decided that Aristotle did not mean his cathartic
effect to be an ethical one. But this does not imply that he denied it such a
nature. It did not suit him to express an opinion on this question, and any
attempt to interpret his observations about its nature and function as an ideo-
logical statement of principles is doomed to failure, whether it adopts one
ideology or another. Therefore Aristotle cannot be used as a witness in the
controversy about the educational influence of a work of art, which is so
important in the history of ideas. This problem sprang up in antiquity;? it was
solved by Goethe, when he wrote in Dichtung und Wahrheit (12, Jub.-Ausg.
24. 111): ‘Of course a work of art can and will have moral consequences, but to
demand moral aims from the artist means to corrupt his art’. In his Archaischer
Torso Apollos Rilke also had these ‘moral consequences’ in mind: *. . . for there
is no place which does not see you. You must change your life’. But Aristotle
did not express himself on these questions, because he had no call to do so.
His bent for documentation and for penetrating poetic criticism, to which the
Poetics bear witness, also put its stamp on some of the lost works. The Homeric
t Important for the elucidation of these questions: kK. v. FRITZ, ‘Tragische Schuld und
poetische Gerechtigheit in der griech. Trag.’. Studium Generale 8, 1955, 194 and 219; now
in Antike und moderne Tragédie. Berlin 1962, 1. Important material on éuapravw in G. ZUNTZ,
Gnom. 30, 1958, 23.
2 Passages on this subject in H. SCHRECKENBERG, Drama. Wirzburg 1960, 132.
3 Cf. w. KRAUS, ‘Die Aufassung des Dichterberufes im friihen Griechentum’. Wien.
Stud.. 68, 1955, 65.
$71
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Problems ?Asropipata “Opnpucd) deals with the answering of single questions.

The book belongs to a literary genre which had begun to develop since the
sophists. Homer, still the teacher of the Greeks, inevitably became the subject of
critical controversies as literary-historical interest developed. A witness to its
lively spirit is Zoilus of Amphipolis (F Gr Hist 71), a fourth-century orator and
sophist, opponent of Isocrates, who in his writings criticized Homer in a way
which earned him the nickname of ‘Homer’s Scourge’ (‘Opnpopdo7e€).
Among the elaborate civic programmes which Aristotle undertook as the head
of the Athenian school — the earliest of this nature of which we know - also
belonged the systematic arrangement of material important for the history of
culture and literature. In 355 Aristotle and his grand-nephew Callisthenes
compiled the List of Pythian Victors (Ilv@vovixar). We have the inscription"
with the decree of the Delphians to wreathe him and Callisthenes as an ex-
pression of their gratitude. But a renewed outbreak of anti-Macedonian feeling
after Alexander’s death deprived him of this honour. A passage is extant from a
letter (fr. 666) in which he mentions these reversals with composure. A List
of Olympian Victors ("OAvprovixac) is mentioned among his works. With the
Didascaliae (AtSackaAtat) and th? Victories in the Town-Dionysia and the Lenaea
(Nixac Avovuovakat Kat Anvaixat) Aristotle used the archons’ archives to
prepare material which was the indispensable basis for later scholarship, especially
for the Alexandrians.
When Aristotle compiled his didactic works, rhetoric had already become an
educational force with an important tradition. In his early dialogue Gryllus
(IpidAos 7) rept pyropixjs) he had already taken his stand with regard to this
form of intellectual activity; now, in the years of his maturity, he produced the
three books of the Rhetoric (Téyvn pytopixfs),? which opposes the works of
the professional teachers of rhetoric Theodectes and Anaximenes, while siding
with them at the same time. For on the one hand Aristotle propounds the
doctrine of a rhetoric in the spirit of science, guided by the attempts to examine
this realm also for the laws behind the phenomena and to develop these logically;
on the other, he writes for the practice of the orator, so that in many parts,
especially in Book 3, he approaches to a certain extent the scholastic rhetoric
initiated by Isocrates. There are many obscurities and irregularities of arrange-
ment, caused by this twofold purpose and by the fact that the work is a collection
of lecture notes. This arrangement can only be traced here in broad outlines.
Book 1, divided according to the three genres (cup.BovreutiKkov, emideckTiKOV,
duxavixov), deals with the various kinds of proofs. Part of Book 2 takes this
subject up again and gives the general means of proof, applicable to all genres;
the treatment of the enthymemes is important here, by which Aristotle means
rhetorical deductions without the conclusive force of those of dialectic. The first
part (1-11) of Book 2 deals with the emotions (7467), and then with the 70
(12-17). Aristotle introduced an innovation by adding to the technical means of

* Fouilles de Delphes IIl/1. Paris, 1929, no. 400. DITTENBERGER, Sylloge 3rd ed. 1, no. 275.
; New ed. A. TOVAR, Madrid 1953. w. D. Ross, Oxf. 1959. Good analysis in w.
KROLL,
RE S 7, 1940, 1057. Cf. F. SOLMSEN, Die Entwicklung der arist. Logik und Rhetorik. Berl. 1929.

572
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

proof the possibilities which are gained from the character of the speakers.
Book 3, whose genuineness can no longer be doubted, deals first (1-12) with
style (Aegis) from the point of view of clarity, the selection of the correct lofty
tone and of propriety, and then (13-19) with the correct arrangement (rd€s),
from there he passes on to the separate parts of speech, paying more attention
generally in the rest of this book to practical instruction.
Rhetoric constantly had Aristotle’s attention. It is significant for the place
which he allotted to it as a dvvagus, as a formal techne, outside pure science
(emcor7un, cf. 1359 b 13), that the lectures dealing with it took place in the
afternoon, which was reserved for lighter subjects. Rhetoric also came under the
large-scale collecting activity of the later period; the Collection of Rhetorical
Textbooks (Texv@v ovvaywyr}) surveyed the entire previous development of
this literature. It is difficult to determine the contents of the Theodectes, which is
also lost. Its title in the catalogue of writings in Hesychius and Diogenes,
Téyyns tis Oeodéxtov ovvaywy7, indicates that Aristotle collected and
published a Techne of Isocrates’ scholar Theodectes of Phaselis, who also made
a name for himself as a tragedian.!
In accordance with the purpose of this study, the various scientific works
will now be briefly enumerated, but this brevity should not give a distorted pic-
ture of the importance of this side of Aristotle’s creativity. The Meteorology
(MerewpodAoyrxd, 4 books), translated by J. Tricot, Paris, 1955, is related with
the treatise On the Heaven in that here he deals with the phenomena underneath
the aether-filled astral spheres, i.e. from the moon down to the interior of the
earth. Heat and cold are the controlling forces for the aetiology of the events
which occur in the realm of the four elements inferior to the aether. The work
is important because it asks and answers numerous questions about the wide
scope of nature. Book 4, which is of doubtful authenticity,” occupies a special
position; it leads up to the threshold of modern chemistry with its treatment of
matter. The writing On the Rising of the Nile (Ilept r9s t06 NetAov avaBdcews)
was handed down in a Latin translation only and was long considered to be
spurious. Lately it has found advocates? who can point out that the final
explanation of the rising of the Nile through rainfall is preceded by a historical
discussion of the problem in the typical Aristotelian manner.
As part of a project planned ona broad scale, Aristotle assigned to Theophrastus
the description of the vegetable kingdom, while he himself undertook the
zoological part of the gigantic work which, according to his plan, was to span
the whole realm of nature. The imposing work of the Zoology (At wept ra Ca
toropiar, 10 books)* was built up by Aristotle from a tremendous wealth of
observations, both his own and others’, into a description containing, apart from
a great deal which is erroneous, excellent information about the anatomy,
1 Cf. F. SOLMSEN, RE 5 A, 1934, 1730.
2 Cf. GEFFCKEN, Griech. Lit.-Gesch. 2, 2nd part, 208, n. 36. On its genuineness I. DURING,
A.’s Chemical Treatise. Géteborgs Hégskolas Arsskrift. 1944, 2. Otherwise F. SOLMSEN, Gnom.
29, 1957, 132.
3 GEFFCKEN (v. sup.), 209, n. 47.
4 Transl. by J. TRICOT, 2 vols. Paris 1957.
573
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

physiology and habits of numerous animals. The description of the reproduction

of the smooth-skinned shark, which anticipated the discoveries of the middle of
the last century, was called ‘almost uncanny’ by the science-historian George
Sarton. Joseph Wiesner! gave an impressive demonstration of how ancient skill
at observation was preserved in Aristotle with his example of the ‘squid’s
wedding’. We have to take interpolations of others into account in this work,
even more than in any other. Jaeger attributed the last books generally to minor
members of the school. The Problems (HpoBAjpara)? is completely different; it
deals largely with scientific questions and contains, apart from Aristotle’s own,
so much foreign matter that it can no longer be numbered among the genuine
works.
A row of spurious works are related with this one, which claim legitimacy
for their scientific compilations in the Master’s name; such are On Breathing
(Ilept mvevpratos), On Colours (Ilept ypwpdrwv), On Hearing (Ilepi axovorav),
On Plants (Ulepi duta@v), Mechanics (Mnxavira), Physiognomy (Dvovoyvapra),
Estate Management (Otkovopukd).3
The Zoology is a great descriptive and also illustrated (510 a 29) collection,*
comparable with similar comprehensive works in other fields; in a series of
other works, however, Aristotle tackled the aetiology of the phenomena he had
described, which in his opinion largely coincides with their teleology: On the
Parts ofAnimals (Ilept Cabwv popiwy, 4 books), the first book of which contains
a loftily written statement of principles as an introduction to Aristotelian scientific
research; On the Generation of Animals (Ilepi Cabwyv yevécews, 5 books);° On the
Gait of Animals (Ilept opetas Cwv) and the unjustly suspected treatise On the
Movement of Animals (Uept Cawv Kwyjoews),? which soars from a discussion
of the mechanism of animal movement to the question of the unmoved
mover.
In the course of this study we had to point now and then to spurious parts in
the Corpus Aristotelicum. Another three should be mentioned. The treatise On
the Universe (Ilepi xécpov) has been the subject of a great deal of critical interest
because of its curious position among the systems and because of its religious
spirit.§ It is no longer assumed that it is closely connected with Posidonius; the
work, which dates from A.D. roo, belongs to a Peripatetic tradition with a strong
Platonic tendency. The writing On Indivisible Lines (Ilept arépwv ypappdr),
' Arch. Jahrb. 74, 1959, 38. Cf. also L. BOURGEY, Observation et expérience chez A. Paris
1953.
? G. MARENGHI, ‘La tradizione manoscritta dei Problemata physica aristotelici’. Boll. del
comitato per la preparazione della Ed. Naz. dei class. Greci e Lat. Fasc. 9, 1961, 47.
3 Transl. by J. TRICOT, Paris 1958.
* About its special character as a textbook now F. DIRLMEIER, Sitzb. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-
hist. Kl. 1962/2, 20.
5 Comim.: I, DURING, Goteborg 1943.
° On A.’s doctrine of generation and heredity, ERNA LESKY in the book mentioned on p.
493. There (1377) also on a break in A.’s system.
7 L. TORRACA, De motu animalium. Testo, trad., comm. Naples 1958 (Coll. di studi greci).
* A.-J. FESTUGIBRE, La Révélation d’Hermeés Trismégiste. Il. Le diet: cosmique. Paris 1949,
460. H. STROMM, ‘Studien zur Schrift von der Welt’. Mus. Helv. 9, 1952, 137.
574
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

which belongs to the late Platonic tradition, was also attributed to Theophras-
tus.' The Peplos is alleged to be Aristotle’s (fr. 637 ff. Ross); it is a mythological
work of a mixed content from which sixty-three epigrams have been pre-
served, mainly on the fallen in the Trojan war.
The study which has been made of Aristotle’s work is founded on the notion
of Aristotle which is the result of the last few decades of scholarship, but it
seems to be imperative to stress, in conclusion, the main problem. The important
point is that Aristotle has been dismissed from his isolated position of an authori-
tarian headmaster, and returned to history, and that his work is no longer
regarded as a dogmatical system complete in itself, but as the expression of an
intellectual movement of very great dynamic power. Aristotle was a product of
Plato’s teaching, and he left behind pupils who passed his legacy on to the
Hellenistic age and so evoked a new form of science. The enormous distance
between the two ends of the time-span just referred to is the result of a profound
change whose decisive epoch coincided with Aristotle’s labours. The following
example will serve to illustrate this point. The emancipation of individual
branches of science from the primacy of philosophy, which is complete in
Alexandria, is still unthinkable with Plato, but it is being anticipated in some of
Aristotle's works, though it is by no means certain that he had such a drastic
course in mind.
In 1923 Werner Jaeger blazed a new trail for scholarship with his book on
Aristotle. In it the notion of the historical development of thought, which
Aristotle created, was decisively brought to bear on the philosopher’s work
itself. The picture sketched by Jaeger was chiefly a picture of a development
which more and more led away from Plato. During a first period, to which the
majority of the dialogues belong, Aristotle must have been a Platonist with the
theory of ideas as a foundation; in the middle period of Assos, Lesbos and
Macedon, during which inter alia the older strata of the Physics, Metaphysics and
Politics were written, he freed himself of his belief in the transcendence of the
ideas and turned, during a third period, in his quality as leader of the school, to
the empirical investigation of isolated phenomena and founded a new type of
science. Since Jaeger’s book appeared, the study of Aristotle has been mainly
occupied with the task of testing this first great sketch on its reliability in detail,
and altering it where needed. F. Nuyens? attempted to utilize the change in
Aristotle’s conception of the soul for a chronology which deviated in many
respects from Jaeger’s. In his opinion the road led from the dialogues with their
adoption of Platonic notions to an extension of the idea of the soul over all the
forms of life in the biological works of a middle period, and finally to the con-
ception of the soul as the entelechy of the individual in the late work On the
Soul. In his excellent book on Aristotle (15) D. J. Allan proposed to replace the
long and steady development of the philosopher by one which was brought
about by a crisis. We may now think that this interpretation was a sudden whim.

1 ©, REGENBOGEN, RE S 7, 1940, 1542, with a list of pseudo-Aristotelica possibly by

Theophrastus.
2 L’Evolution de la psychologie d’A. Louvain 1948 (Dutch 1939).
SAS
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Scholarly research into this complex of questions is still in a state of flux, as is

demonstrated by the opposition offered to Jaeger’s sketch of the development
by a group of scholars. F. Dirlmeier,’ I. Diiring? and R. Stark3 concur, though
they vary in detail, in the opinion that Aristotle did not pass through a develop-
ment from being a pure Platonist to empiricist, but that these two sides remained
observable in him, and controlled his work, all the time.t They argue that
Aristotle never accepted the theory of ideas but that he remained a Platonist in
aiming his empiricism at the cognition of the permanently valid and in his
appreciation of the intellect. The battle still goes on, but the basic idea of a
continued development of Aristotle’s thought will, no doubt, make good its
claim. On the other hand, the scope of the opposition to Jaeger’s conception
has been substantially reduced and there is a stronger stress on a certain con-
stancy in the basic factors which, apart from many variations, stimulated
Aristotle’s research in detail. The dating of individual works and parts of them
still poses many problems. Thompson’s indication (p. 550) that Aristotle’s
biological research was already off to a brisk start in Assos will have to play an
important part. He opposes an extremely late date of the biological writings
and recommends Nuyen’s estimate at least for their older parts.
Aristotle’s research took place in an environment of a richly developed
scientific life, which had been called forth largely by the Master himself. Here
we can only afford a brief glance at some of its representatives. Aristotle’s
undertaking to collect systematically the achievements and conjectures of his
predecessors in all fields of knowledge — and this must have demanded con-
siderable library resources, precursors to the great libraries of Alexandria and
Pergamum — set many hands and minds in motion. Theophrastus’s great work
History of Physics (Dvatxdv d0€a, 18 books) falls within the scope of the great
plan; our knowledge of this field is largely derived from it in spite of many
breaks and gaps. Eudemus of Rhodes, a pupil of Aristotle’s and a friend of
Theophrastus’, was the first, as far as we know, to write a history of arithmetic,
geometry and astronomy; the little information we have about pre-Euclidean
mathematics may be attributed to him. We add here the two mathematicians
Aristaeus and Autolycus of Pitane who were active at the end of the fourth
century and who represent the transition to Euclid. Two mathematical works
t Jahrb.f. d. Bistum Mainz 5, 1950, 161; Gnom. 28, 1956, 344.
2 A.’s De part. anim. Goteborg 1943, 36; ‘A. the Scholar’. Commentationes in hon. E,
Linkomies. (Arctos Nov. Ser. 1) Helsinki 1954, 61, esp. 75 f.; 65, n. 4 gives bibl. Cf. also
bibl. quoted on p. $54, n. 4.
3 Aristotelesstudien. Zet. 8. Munich 1954, esp. 91 f. Opposing a steady development leading
away from Plato, also M. WUNDT, Untersuchungen zur Metaphysik des A. Stuttgart 1953.
Survey of the recent history of the problem in G. VERBEKE in: Autour d’ Aristote. Louvain
10455; 18.
* Doubt of JAEGER’S notion of Aristotle’s development is also voiced by kK. OEHLER,
‘Thomas von Aquin als Interpret der aristotelischen Ethik’. Philos. Rundschau 5, 1957, 135s
and G. MULLER, ‘Probleme der aristotelischen Eudaimonielehre’. Mus. Helv. 17, 1960,
127; but MULLER’S reference to fr. 78 R. must not be overlooked; it loses its force as sup-
ra for JAEGER’s theory only if one thinks that A. offered an opposing view in his dia-
ogue.
576
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

of the latter,! dealing with spherical geometry, have been preserved; a third,
which is lost, criticized the theory of the homocentric spheres.
Meno was commissioned by Aristotle to write a history of medicine. A
voluminous papyrus of the second century A.D., the so-called Anonymus
Londinensis (nr. 1820 P.), contains an extract of it which is also our main source
for one of the most important physicians of the Sicilian school, Philistion of
Locri, who started from Empedocles’ four elements and explained the facts of
physiology mainly with the aid of his pneuma theory. In other respects the
connections of Aristotle and his school with medicine have also been exceedingly
active. Recent research? has especially related the teaching at the Peripatos with
Diocles of Carystus, the only physician of whom we have any knowledge
between Hippocrates and the Hellenistic era. It has been proved that Diocles’
date in the early fourth century is erroneous, but his floruit should not be placed
later than the decades 340-320. He was the first physician to write Attic Greek,
which proves that he set a high standard for the form of his publications. Among
his main works we know of a Hygiene (‘Yyveva pds HAeiotapyov) and a
therapeutical work Pain, Cause and Cure (Ild@os airia Oepameta). Jaeger
wanted to prove that the Prophylactic Letter to King Antigonus (EmvoroAy
mpogdvAakriK7)) was genuine, but recently F. Heinimann} has raised serious
objections to this. To characterize Diocles as one of the leaders of the dogmatic
school, as was done in antiquity, is inadequate; the pneuma-doctrine of the
Sicilian school had a very strong influence on him and it is from this centre that
connections with Aristotle can be traced. Among the followers of Diocles is
Praxagoras,* the head of the Coan school of medicine. The connections of the
Peripatos with medicine acquired a domestic note when Pythias, Aristotle’s
daughter, married Metrodorus, a physician of the Cnidian school. Erasistratus,
the great Hellenistic physician, worked with him after his initial training in Cos.
We add here two of Aristotle’s pupils who, like Theophrastus, followed their
master’s example in the versatility and span of their works. Aristoxenus of
Tarentum is supposed to have filled 453 book rolls and the fragments bear
witness to a variety of themes. He is of importance to us as a theoretician in
music. In the three books of his Harmonics (“Appovixa ororyetas) he portrayed a
tradition reaching back to the Pythagoreans, with which he dealt in the spirit of
the Peripatos. His Rhythmics (‘Pu0ucKxa ororxeia) is known to us from several
« After the ed. of F. HULTSCH, Leipz. 1885, J. MOGENET, Louvain 1950. In add. we refer
to T. HEATH, Mathematics in A. Oxf. 1949 (the texts in transl.). The fragments of Eudemus:
F. WEHRLI, Die Schule des Aristoteles 8. Basel 1955.
2 w. JAEGER, D. von Karystos. Berl. 1938. Id. Festschr. f. Regenbogen. Heidelb. 1952, 94;
cf. also Paideia 2. 49. The fragments in M. WELLMANN, Die Fragm. der sikelischen Arzte.
Berl. 1901.
3 ‘D. von Karystos und der prophylaktische Brief an K6nig Antigonos.’ Mus. Helv. 12,
1955, 158.
4 F. STECKERL, The Fragments of Praxagoras of Cos and his School. Collected, edited and trans-
lated. Leiden 1958. x
5 Editions: H.$. MACRAN, Oxf. 1902. ROSETTA DA RIOS, Rome 1954. Survey ofthe editions
since Meursius: Gnom. 28, 1956, 279. The fragments of the remaining works: F. WEHRLI, Die
Schule des Aristoteles 2. Basel 1945.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

fragments, one of which, probably from Book 2, is fairly large. He took a very
lively interest in Pythagoreanism. He wrote a biography of Archytas, and also a
Bios mvBayopucds by which he meant a way of life according to Pythagorean
ideals. Biographies of Pythagoras and his scholars, and of Socrates and Plato
were also among his works. In Cicero (Ad Ait. 2. 16, 3) we find Theophrastus
described as one who favoured a life devoted to speculative thinking in contrast
to Dicaearchus of Messene! who attached more importance to the practical side
of life. Dicacarchus also wrote about a great variety of subjects, such as philo-
sophy, politics and literature, but he interests us chiefly for two of his fields of
enquiry. With his works in the history of culture he opened a new territory for
scientific work and in his Life in Greece (Bios ‘EAAd8os, 3 books) he applied
his methods of observation to his own people. His other achievement is in
geography, in which, with his Description of the Earth (Uijs wepiodos) he paved
the way for a line of research which led via Eratosthenes to Strabo. Next to
Theophrastus he was Aristotle’s most important pupil and in his case we are
particularly sorry to possess only some scraps.
Geographical research, as represented by Dicaearchus, a revival of ancient
Ionian ioropin, is closely allied with the great voyages of discovery of that
time. One of these was undertaken by Pytheas of Massalia with such a boldness
that its results were disbelieved; at the time of the expedition of Alexander the
Great he travelled all over north-western and northern Europe up to the fringes
of the Arctic; we do not know how far he went, especially as regards his Thule
(Iceland or Norway?). The effect of his work On the Ocean (Ilepi ’Qreavod)
can be traced in many places. At about the same time (325/24) Alexander’s
admiral Nearchus undertook his voyage from the Indus to Persia, and so re-
peated, after nearly two centuries, the bold enterprise of Scylax, to whom a
survey of the Mediterranean coast was attributed at the time of Philip II (cf. p-
219). We can form a picture of the vividness with which Nearchus related
his observations from the parts which Arrian utilized in his book on India
CIvdexn.)$

A decisive chapter in the history of the Aristotelian tradition is preserved in

Strabo (13. 54, p. 608, also Plut. Sulla 26). It sounds like fiction and has often
been dismissed as such, but it is in such striking agreement with Aristotle’s
connections with north-western Asia Minor that there is no room for doubt.
It claims that the master’s legacy of didactic writings passed first to Theo-
C > . . <a -~

phrastus, from him to Neleus of Scepsis, a son of the above-mentioned Coriscus,

' Fragments: F. WEHRLI, Die Schule des Aristoteles t. Basel 1944.
* R. GUNGERICH, Die Kiistenbeschreibungen in der griech. Lit. Miinster 1950, 16. H. J. MET TE,
Pytheas von Massalia. Kl, ‘Texte 173. Berl. 1952. D. STICHTENOTH, Pytheas von Marseille,
Uber das Weltmeer. Aus dem Lateinischen iibersetzt und erlautert. Weimar-Cologne 1959. R.
KNAPOWSKI, Zagadnienia chronologii . . Poznati 1958, discusses questions of chronology
and extent of the voyages of discovery.
’ GUNGERICH (v. n. 2), 14, subject matter in JacoBy, F Gr Hist no. 133. Transl. and
interpretation in 0. sEEL, Antike Entdeckerfahrten. Ziirich 1961 (Lebendige Antike).
$78
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

who heard Aristotle in Assos and is often mentioned in the didactic works.
Fearing the Attalids’ mania for collecting books — they were building up their
large library in Pergamum ~ his heirs stored the books in a subterranean room,
which did not have a good effect on the rolls. In the first century B.c. Neleus’
heirs sold them together with Theophrastus’ works to a certain Apellicon of
Teos, who, according to Strabo, was a bibliophile rather than a philosopher.
Soon after his death his library came into the possession of Sulla and moved to
Rome with him. Tyrannion first occupied himself with Aristotle’s works,
without notable results; the Peripatetic Andronicus of Rhodes produced, still in
the first century B.c., the edition on which the entire subsequent tradition rests.
The exoteric works did not lead a subterranean life, after Aristotle’s death, like
the didactic ones, but they were lost late in antiquity. However, it can hardly
be assumed that before the treasure of Scepsis became known, the didactic
works had been altogether forgotten. We can no longer make out how much
new material was contributed by it.
The utilization of the complete manuscript tradition for Aristotle is a remote
goal. The best information about the foundations, which vary from work to
work, can at present be found in the relevant chapters of the second volume of
J. GEFFCKENS$ Griech. Literaturgeschichte (Heidelberg 1934). Also £. MIont, A.’s
codd. graeci qui in bibliothecis Venetis adservantur, Padua 1958. On the independence
of Vat. 1339 as compared with Laur. 81. 1 recently 1. DURING, Gnom. 31, 1959,
416, with bibl. On one special work 8. roBeL, The Greek Manuscripts of A.’s
Poetics. Oxf. 1933 (Suppl. to the Biographical Society’s Transactions 9). Apart
from the find of the A@nvaiwy rodureia, the papyri do not yield a great deal.
On the gain from the point of view of textual criticism R. STARK, Annal.
Univers. Saraviensis. Philos. — Lettres 8, 1/2, 1959, 36. There (38) also about a
dubious attribution. The Ox. Pap. 24, 1957 have added fragments to Nic. Ethics
6 in no. 2402 and to the Categories in no. 2403. Aristotle was translated into
Syrian, Arabic, Hebrew and Latin; a. ourDAIN, Recherches critiques sur lage et
lorigine des traductions latines d’A. et sur les commentaires grecs et arabes employés par
les docteurs scolastiques. Nouv. éd. revue et augm. par CH. JOURDAIN 1843, repr.
New York 1960. Much remains to be done for the utilization of this type of
transmission. An example of its importance, and equally of the problems
involved, is J. TKATSCH’s work Die arabische Ubersetzung der Poetik des A. und die
Grundlage der Kritik des griech. Textes. Akad. Wien 1, 1928. 2, 1932. A. GUDEMAN’'S
edition of the Poetics, Berl. 1934, gives an example of an exaggeration of its
importance. The work of r. waLzeR, ‘On the Arabic Versions of Books A, a
and A of A.’s Metaph.’. Harv. Stud. 63, 1958 (Festschrift W. Jaeger), 217 is
important for its methodology. The exemplary collection of the scattered
material carried out by the Union Acad. Internationale laid the basis for the
utilization of the Latin translations which begin with Boethius and reach their
climax with William de Moerbeke. The plan upon which was decided in 1930
proposes the edition of the translations before 1280 in an Aristoteles Latinus as
the first part of a comprehensive Corpus Philosophorum Medii Aevi. The estab-
lishment of the manuscript tradition was substantially completed in 1939; its
$79
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

results are available in Aristoteles Latinus: Pars prior. Rome 1939, repr. Bruges-
Paris 1957, edited by G. LACOMBE et al. Pars posterior (which also contains
Supplementa to I) Cambr. 1955. Suppl. Alterum. Ed. L. MINIO-PALUELLO.
Cambr. 1962 — The Prolegomena in Aristotelem Latinum are also part of the
preliminary work for this plan; two fascicules of these have appeared in the
Polish Acad. of Sciences: I: A. BIRKENMAJER, Classement des ouvrages attribués a
Aristote par le moyen dge latin. Cracow 1932. Il: w. L. LORIMER, The Text
Tradition of the Interpretation anonyma of Pseudo-Aristotle De Mundo. Cracow
1934. The continuation of the series is planned with L. MINIO-PALUELLO,
Collected Papers on Some Translators and Translations of Aristotle in the Middle
Ages. — At present the publication is in the hands of L. MINIO-PALUELLO,
R. A. B. MYNORS, O. GIGON, H. J. DROSSAART LULOFS and J. H. WASZINK.
Published so far (in Bruges-Paris, unless otherwise indicated): I/1-5 Categoriae
vel Praedicamenta, translatio Boethii, recensio composita, translatio Gu. de Moerb.,
lemmata Simplicii Gu. de Moerb. interprete, paraphrasis Themistiana (Pseudo-
Augustini Categoriae Decem). Ed. L. MINIO-PALUELLO 1962. IV/2 Analytica post.,
translatio anonyma, Ed. L. MINIO-PALUELLO 1953. 1V/3 Analytica post., Gerardo
Cremonensi interprete. Ed. L. MINIO-PALUELLO 1954. VII/2 Physica, translatio
Vaticana. Ed. A. MANSION 1957. XI/1-2 De Mundo, translatio anonyma et trans-
latio Nicolai. Ed. w. L. LORIMER. Rome 1951. XXIX/t Politica (libri I-11), translatio
anonyma. Ed. Pp. MICHAUD-QUANTIN 1962. XXXIII De Arte Poetica, Gu. de
Moerb. interprete. Ed. £. VALGIMIGLI, reviserunt, praefatione indicibusque in-
struxerunt AE. FRANCESCHINI et L. MINIO-PALUELLO 1953. Printing: II De
Interpretatione, translatio Boethii, Gu. de Moerb. Ed. Lt. MINIO-PALUELLO and
G. VERBEKE. II/1-2 Analytica priora, translationis Boethianae recensiones duae et
translatio anonyma; Appendix scholia antiqua a Graeco translata continens. Ed.
L. MINIO-PALUELLO. — A good survey and history of the programme by
L. MINIO-PALUELLO, Studi Medievali 3. ser. 1, 1960, 304. On this basis a bulletin,
Programme and Progress, will be published in the near future. On the relevant
questions of a philosophical historical nature 1. DiirrncG, ‘Von A. bis Leibniz’.
Ant. u. Abendl. 4, 1954, 118. F. VAN STEENBERGEN, A. in the West. Louvain
1955. A. and Plato in the Mid-Fourth Century. Papers presented at the Symposium
Aristotelicum held at Oxford, August 1957. Ed. by 1. DURING and G. E. L. OWEN.
Stockholm 1960. 12. Congr. int. di filosofia Venezia 1958. Atti Vol LX; Aristotelismo
padovano e filosofia aristotelica. Florence 1960. The numerous surviving com-
mentaries and paraphrases are important for criticism and interpretation. The
exegesis of Aristotle begins with Andronicus and has continued since him as a
process of the greatest importance in the history of the West. The foundation
was laid by the programme of the Preuss. Akademie Commentaria in A. Graeca,
23 vols. with 3 suppl. vols. Berl. 1882-1909. Reprints have begun with 2. 2
(Alex. Aphrod. in A. Topic.) and 4. 2 (Dexippus in A. Categ.) Berl: 19597—
G. VERBEKE, Themistios: Comm. sur le traité de l’dme d’A. Trad. de Guillaume de
Moerbeke. Ed. critique et étude sur I’utilisation du comm. dans wuvre de saint Thomas.
Corpus Lat. Commentariorum in A. Graecorum 1. Louvain 1957. Id.: Comm. sur le
Peri Herméneias d’A. Trad. de Guillaume de Moerbeke. Corpus Lat. Commentariorum
580
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

in A. Graecorum 2. Louvain 1961. K. GIOCARINIS, ‘An unpublished late thirteenth-

century comm. on the Nic. Eth. of A.’. Traditio 15, 1959, 299. LYMAN W. RILEY,
A. Texts and Commentaries to 1700 in the Univ. of Pennsylvania Library. Phila-
delphia 1960. Selected commentaries of Averroes are published by the Mediaeval
Society of America, Cambr. Mass. under the leadership of H. A. WOLFSON.
I Epitome of Parva Naturalia. Latin Text. Ed. EMILY L. SHIELDS 1949. Hebrew
Text. Ed. H. BLUMBERG 1954. Id.: English Transl. and Comm. 1961. Il Long
Commentary on De Anima. Latin Text. Ed. F. s. CRAWFORD 1953. III Middle
Commentary and Epitome of De Generatione et Corruptione. Latin Text. Ed.
F. H. FOBES 1956. Hebrew Text. Ed. s. KURLAND 1958. Id.: English Transl. and
Comm. 1958. De Substantia Orbis and other vols. are due to follow. A reprint of
A, Opera cum Averrois commentariis. Venetis apud Iuntas 1562-74 in 11 vols. and
3 suppl. vols. is being prepared by Minerva G.m.b.H. Frankfurt a. M.
The older bibl. on A. by K. PRAECHTER in F. UEBERWEG’S Grundriss d. Gesch.
d. Philos. 1, 12th ed. Berl. 1926. For the scholarship of the last ten years a number
of surveys is available: p. witpERT, “Die Lage der Aristotelesforschung’.
Zeitschr.f.philos. Forsch. 1, 1946, 123. M. D. PHILIPPE, Bibl. Einf. i. d. Stud. d.
Philos. 8. Aristoteles. Bern, 1948. W. JAEGER, ‘Die Entwicklung des Studiums der
griech. Philos. seit dem Erwachen des hist. Bewusstseins’. Zeitschr. f. philos.
Forsch. 6, 1925, 200. W. D. Ross in Fifty Years of Classical Scholarship. Oxf. 1954,
136. E. J. SCHACHER, Platon-Aristoteles 1. Salzburg 1957, 10. Aristotele nella
critica e negli studi contemporanei (contributions of It. scholars). Milan 1957.
H. Ss. LONG, ‘A Bibliographical Survey of Recent works on Aristotle.’ The
Class. World 51, 1957, 47. 57- 69; 52, 1958, 96. I17. 193. 204. G. VERBEKE,
“Bulletin de littérature aristotélicienne’. Rev. philos. de Louvain 56, 1958, 605.
The bibliogr. notes (also on the separate works) in the Lexicon d. Gesch. d.
Naturwiss., sub Aristotle, edited by J. MAYERHOFER are useful. The books by
MORAUX and NUYENS mentioned p. 553, n. 2 and p. 575, n. 2 give a good
bibliogr. On the exoteric works bibl. in w. D. Ross, Works of A. 12, Oxf. 1952;
also L. ALFONSI, Herm. 81, 1953, 45, 2. The most important texts from this now
in w. D. ROSS, A. Fragmenta selecta. Oxf. 1955.
Modern scholarship on Aristotle was begun with the complete edition of the
Preuss. Akademie in 5 vols. 1831-70, from which we quote; Book § contains
H. BONITZ’S indispensable Index Aristotelicus. Of the 2nd ed., by cicon, I and II
have appeared Berl. 1960 (with register of the most important editions since
BEKKER), IV (reprint of the most important parts of the commentaries on A.
and a concordance with the Commentaria in A. Graeca, as well as a new edition
of the Vita Marciana) and V (Index) Berl. 1961 (the Index was already reprinted
in 1955). III will comprise the collection of fragments brought up to date; the
Latin translation of A.’s works is not included. — Most texts in the Loeb Classical
Library; in the Coll. des Univ. de Fr.: Phys., On the Heaven, Parva Nat., Ath.
Const., Polit., Poet., Rhet. 1-2, On the Parts of Animals, On the Generation of
Animals (both series bilingual). The Teubner texts and those of the Bibl.
Oxoniensis can always be profitably consulted. In general we refer for editions,
commentaries and translations to the bibliographical aids mentioned, but stress
581
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

as particularly important the Oxford editions (with comm.) by w. D. Ross, to

which reference was made in connection with separate works. Some informa-
tion on recent editions in A. COLONNA, ‘Note a recenti edizioni di A.’. Boll. del
comitato per la preparazione della ed. naz. 5, Rome 1957, 13. There is also a survey
in GIGON’s new edition of the Berlin publication (v. supra). To complete the
bibliographies mentioned we refer to the recent works in the notes. Particularly
suitable introductions are: w. D. ROSS, Aristotle. Lond. 1923 (sth ed. repr. 1960,
also Meridian Books, New York 1960). Id.: The Development of A.’s Thought.
Lond. 1957. L. ROBIN, Aristote, Paris 1944. D. J. ALLAN, The Philosophy of A.
Oxf. 1952. w. JAEGER’S Aristoteles, a book whose importance was repeatedly
mentioned in this study, appeared in Berl. 1955, 2nd ed. A brief introduction by
J. H. RANDALL Jr., Aristotle. New York 1960. Important contributions in:
Autour d’ Aristote. Recueil d’études de philos. anc. et médiév. offert a A. Mansion.
Louvain 1955. W. BROCKER, Aristoteles. Philos. Abhandlungen I. 2nd ed. Frankf.
a. M. 1957. TH. MERLAN, Studies in Epicurus and A, Wiesbaden 1960 (KI. phil.
Stud. 22). A selection of individual works has been published in translation. Of
particular value is the comprehensive monumental transl.: The Works of A.
Transl. into English under the Editorship of w. D. ROSS. 12 vols. Oxf. 1908-52.
The transl. of the didactic works by Pp. GOHLKE has progressed to vol. 9:
Problemes. Paderborn 1961.

A MMe, JAIMIE (Oleh TIRE EONRIKE:

The influence of Plato’s and Aristotle's works extends far beyond the boundaries
of the century in which they created them. The founder of the Peripatos had
stronger links with contemporary life than his teacher, but he also regarded
education as the means of forming man as an individual; his political ideal also
soars from broad empirical foundations into the realm of the timeless patterns
in which the structure of the Platonic Republic had found its origin. But the full
picture of the intellectual history of the fourth century cannot be completed with
Plato and Aristotle only, for this century was an epoch of irreconcilable con-
trasts and hesitating transitions, until in the last part the beginnings of a new
world emerged. The old hegemonic themes continued to be played for some
more time, in the Spartan, Athenian and, for a change, in the Boeotian mode,
but above all the restless change the call for general security and a general peace
(own, €¢p7jvn)! was heard more and more clearly, while in Asia, and later in
the Macedonian north, powerful neighbours were interestedly following the
attempts of Greek states to call up the shade of the Athenian maritime empire.
At no time had there been so much and such loud talk of Athenian greatness, but
it was the greatness of the past which paraded with museum exhibits. Different
voices were also being raised, which prepared for an association of nations in the
spirit of the Hellenistic age when cultural influences reached far beyond the
frontiers of the city-states. Tradition and transition also jostle one another in the
realm of literature. Many of the old forms of poetry were still being cultivated,
as we shall soon be able to show with tragedy as an example. But rhetoric,
' Bibl. on this concept in H. BENGTSON, Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich, 1960, 250.
582
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

which had made an early start in the previous century, developed into a force
which contested poetry’s title to its own subject-matter, and it largely made
good its claim in the course of its development. At Isocrates’ school this same
thetoric also challenged philosophy and with its claim on the education of the
young! initiated a struggle which was to go on for centuries. It will be clear
from this that we consider the rise of rhetoric a characteristic feature of the
fourth century and accordingly single out Isocrates as the typical representative
of this epoch.
It is difficult to judge this man, and critics waver between extremes.? His
intellectual mediocrity, lack of originality and of strong creative impulses
contrast sharply with the quite unprecedented influence of his school. Statesmen,
orators, historians and poets emerged from it in such quantity that Cicero once
compared it (De Or. 2. 94) with the Trojan horse which contained only hand-
picked heroes.3 This influence, which lasted well after the end of antiquity, is a
historical fact, and any description of Isocrates and his work will have to try to
account for it.
Isocrates lived from 436, the time at which Athens was at the height of its
power and was anticipating the quarrel with Sparta, until the year 338, when
Philip of Macedon won his victory at Chaeronea and ushered in an era which
started off an entirely new development. Isocrates was a native of Erchia, a deme
in the eastern part of Athens, where his father ran a workshop* which produced
flutes. His origin from a well-to-do home ensured for him a careful education;
the usual conjectural biography of antiquity associates him with men like
Prodicus, and this may well be correct. A sojourn in Thessaly had a decisive
influence on him, for there he was taught by Gorgias, whose doctrine he wished
to continue in its most important points. The time and extent of this study are
matters of dispute; it may have occurred in the last decade of the fifth century
or the years immediately beforehand. The Hellenistic periegete Heliodorus of
Athens (in Pseudo-Plut. Vita dec. or. 838 d) saw on Isocrates’ tomb a representa-
tion of his teachers and pupils, which showed him next to Gorgias and so
preserved the memory of a relationship which guided his development.
It must have been the financial collapse of the paternal home in the confusion
of war (cf. Antid. 161) which compelled him to earn a living and led him to the
profession of logographer, or writer of forensic orations. Because in later years
Isocrates denied this occupation, it became the subject of a controversy of
which we hear the echo in Dionysius of Halicarnassus. His Isocrates, an important
! The history of the pedagogical battle between philosophy and rhetoric in H. V. ARNIM,
Leben und Werke des Dion von Prusa. Berl. 1898. Cf. also H.-1. MARROU, Histoire de 1’éducation
dans lantiquité. Paris 1955; Engl. tr. London 1956.
2 Some apt observations and ref. on this in H.-J. NEWIGER, Gnom. 33, 1961, 761.
3 The Callimachean Hermippus wrote Iepi trav *looxparovs abyrav. On his influence:
H. M. HUBBELL, The Influence of I. on Cicero, Dionysius and Aristides. Diss. Yale Univ. 1913.
R. JOHNSON, ‘A note on the number of Isocrates’ pupils’. Am. Journ. Phil. 78, 1957, 297.
Mikkola (v. sup. on Isocrates), 272, 3, records the detail that Elizabeth I translated To
Nicocles and Nicocles at the age of fourteen.
+ We avoid the expression ‘factory’; cf. F. OERTEL in R. V. POHLMANN, Geschichte der
sozialen Frage und des Sozialmismus in der antiken Welt. 2nd vol. 3rd ed. Munich 1925, 525.
583
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

source for us besides Pseudo-Plutarch, Suidas and an anonymous Life, reports

(18) that Aphareus, Isocrates’ adoptive son, denies any activity of his father for
the law courts in a speech which he wrote against Megaclides on the Antidosis.
This implies that this activity had been alleged and according to Dionysius’
evidence, Aristotle made the same claim, mentioning whole bundles of Isocrates’
forensic speeches circulating at the booksellers’. This, however, is not the only
demonstration of ill-feeling which is reported of Aristotle (cf. Cic. De Or. 3.
141); but the orator also seems to be attacking the philosopher in the Antidosis
(258). Relations between the two rival schools will hardly have improved, when
Aristotle placed rhetoric on his syllabus. Dionysius correctly seeks the truth
somewhere between the extremes and follows Cephisodorus, a faithful pupil of
Isocrates’, who defended his master against Aristotle in his publications. This
witness confirms a small number of forensic speeches by Isocrates. But this
occupation, which was closely connected with a trade, did not offer any
expectations which might satisfy his ambition, while according to Isocrates’ own
admission he lacked a powerful voice and the personal courage to embark upon
a career as a political orator. His desire and his talents pointed out another
course to him. He wished to influence his contemporaries with the written
word, whether recited by others or read by readers, and to form pupils into
successful men by evoking and fostering rhetorical ability. In this way he
followed the aims of the sophists, though no longer as a wandering teacher; he
became the head of a school which he opened in 399 or soon afterwards and
which was flourishing in a short time. Until his death, for more than fifty years,
he lived in Athens and achieved the widespread influence which we mentioned
earlier.
The humanist, Hieronymus Wolf of Augsburg, a friend of Melanchthon’s,
who translated and edited Isocrates, forced the speeches into the pedantic
division of paraenetic, symbuleutic, epideictic and forensic and arranged them
in the order which our editions retain. Nowadays chronological considerations
would be taken into account and the six speeches which Wolf placed at the end
would come at the beginning as products of Isocrates’ occupation as a logo-
grapher. The Aegineticus, a speech before an Aeginetan court of law on a matter
of inheritance, and the Trapeziticus on behalf of a metic who was reclaiming
a deposit from the banker Pasion, should be put shortly before the foundation
of the school. The speech On the Team (Hept tod Cevyous) should be dated
somewhat earlier; it was written for the son of Alcibiades of the same name and
in places it turns into an encomium for the father. In addition there are three
forensic speeches Against Callimachus, Against Lochites and Against Euthynous; of
the last of these only the torso has been preserved. This suit won some notoriety
because neither party in the case could produce any witnesses (Adyos dpdptupos).
Lysias wrote the speech for the opposition and Antisthenes availed himself of
the opportunity to attack Isocrates.!
The speeches written after the foundation of the school are models and show-
pieces of what Isocrates wished to offer with his rhetoric. The epideictic
' L, RADERMACHER, Artium Scriptores. Sitzb. Ost. Ak. Phil.-hist. K1. 2277/3, 1051, 120.
584
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

character which is peculiar to all of them must have been most effective when
solemnly declaimed; they were also published to be distributed in larger circles
and served at the same time as examples of the school’s business. Against the
Sophists (Kata rv cofiordv), written in the "eighties, is a propaganda speech;
in it Isocrates defends his objectives against many attacks, against the philo-
sophers, against political-technical rhetoric based principally on improvisation
and against the teachers of forensic oratory. We add here at the same time the
Antidosis (Ilept av7i8dcews), which Isocrates, according to his own statement
(9), wrote when he was 82; we mention it here because this juxtaposition
readily demonstrates the consistency of his programme. Of this, the longest of
the Isocratic speeches, only the beginning and the ending were known, until in
1812 A. Mystoxides discovered the middle part (73-309) in an Ambrosianus.
The speech, which purports to give a kind of autobiography (7)! takes a lawsuit
finished long ago for its starting-point. In accordance with Attic law Lysimachus
had availed himself of the possibility of removing the costly performance of the
trierarchy on to a more affluent citizen by proposing an exchange of property
in case of refusal (avriSocrs). Now Isocrates pretends that he was compelled
by public attacks to defend his life and his work. And he does so at great length;
he copies Socrates’ situation before his judges; passages from previous speeches
are supposed to play the part of evidence.
Isocrates’ first great epideictic achievement with a political background was
the Panegyricus? which he completed in 380 after many years of work.3 In form
it is an address to the Hellenic nation, who are imagined to have come together
in an assembly; this follows a tradition initiated by Gorgias with his Olympicus,
while there is also some connection with Lysias’ Epitaphios. Both these features
were already noticed in antiquity (Theon. Progymn. 1. 4. p. 63 Sp.),* but the
relatively small number of commonplaces which necessarily occurred in these
speeches, should be taken into account.’ In his book Aristoteles und Athen (1893)
Wilamowitz suggested the interpretation of the Panegyricus as a propaganda
pamphlet for the Second Naval League, and W. Jaeger took this interpretation
even further.® This statement has proved to be untenable in this positive form;
it was reduced to correct proportions especially by Edmund Buchner. The
composition of the Panegyricus adroitly combines two logoi, an epideictic and a
symbuleutic one. The opening, epideictic, part draws a picture of Athens’s great
achievements for Greece in peaceful cultural occupations and in the wars fought
for the existence of Greece, an idealized picture which since then has been copied
1 Cf. Gc. MiscH, Gesch. der Autobiogr. 1, 3rd ed. Bern 1949, 158.
2 —, BUCHNER, Der Panegyrikos des Isokrates. Wiesbaden 1958 (Historia, Einzelschriften 2),
O. SCHNEIDER’S comm. (1860) was not yet available to the author.
3 Ten years after Anon. Ilepi tyfous, 4, 2.
4 H.-J. NEWIGER, Gnom. 33, 1961, 761, opposes with an elaborate discussion Buchner’s
overemphasis of the relations with Lysias. Cf. also on this question J. wa1z, Der lys. Epi-
taphios. Phil. Suppl. 29/4. 1936.
5 Cf. H. LL. HUDSON-WILLIAMS, ‘Thucydides, Isocrates and the rhetorical method of
Composition’. Class. Quart. 42, 1948, 76. On the praise of Athens in tragedy cf. H. R. BUTTS,
The Glorification ofAthens in Gr. Drama. Iowa Stud. 11, 1947.
6 Cf. Paideia 3, 142 and Demosthenes. Berl. 1939, 197. 207, 31.
585
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

time and again. The symbuleutic part, which opens with 133, counsels the
Greeks to unite, for only in this way will they be able to prevail over the
barbarians. Sparta and Athens will have to share in the leadership. The epideictic
logos is subordinate to the symbuleutic part in that it elaborates upon Athens’s
historical title to the hegemony in order to ensure full justification of her claim
to partnership with Sparta in the supreme command.
The Busiris! and the Helen are school speeches, which are linked directly with
the sophistical tradition and were probably written soon after teaching was
begun. Isocrates uses the prefaces for personal purposes; in the Busiris he takes
issue with Polycrates, who had written a defence of Busiris and an indictment
against Socrates (cf. p. 495); in the Helen he attacks writers of dialogues, with
whom he ranges Plato and the other Socratics.
Three speeches which show that Isocrates had some connection with the
reigning house of Cyprus must be dated a good many years after the Panegyricus.
The one To Nicocles (Ilpos NexoxAéa) addresses a lengthy lecture on kingship
to the young prince who, in about 374, after the death of his father Euagoras,
took over the reign of Cyprus; he had previously been a pupil of Isocrates’,
though the nature of the association cannot be determined; in the Nicocles the
prince speaks to his subjects. In the Evagoras, however, the praise of the deceased
ruler is made into a general mirror of princes.
The Plataicus, probably belonging in the year 373, continues the political
speeches. A Plataean is cast as the speaker who brings an action against the
Thebans after their brutal destruction of his city.
The Archidamus also attacks Theban pretensions to power. Here Isocrates
casts the Spartan pretender as the spokesman in the struggle against Messene,
the new city which had arisen on the site of Ithome in the ’sixties under Theban
influence.
Even when Isocrates criticizes Athenian domestic politics and in times of
crisis constantly expresses his recurring desire for authoritarian government, he
shows a penchant for the past, not for new forms. The form of constitution
which he believes to be desirable is a moderate oligarchy and a political trend
as adhered to by men like Cimon, Thucydides the son of Melesias, or Thera-
menes. Solon and Clisthenes are models taken from Athens’ domestic history.
The Areopagiticus* advocates a restitution of this venerable body which would
ensure for it adequate authority for the education and spiritual guidance of the
citizens. This speech has often been dated in the period immediately after the
War of the Allies (357-355) which broke up the Second Naval League, but
Jaeger’ argued in favour of an interpretation of this speech as a warning against
this crisis. Recently, however, serious doubts have been cast on the political
actuality of Isocrates’ speeches, so that a definite decision about the date of the
Areopagiticus has not yet been reached.
' L. GIOVANACCI, Isocrate, Il Busiride. Con introd. e comm. Florence 1955.
7 C. COPPOLA, Areopagitico. Con appendice su la prosa greca d’ arte. Milan 1956.
3 “The Date of I.’s Areopagiticus and the Athenian Opposition’. Harv. Stud. Suppl. vol.
I, 1940, 409; now Scripta minora 2. Rome 1960, 267.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

On the Peace (Ilepi Kipyivns) is a product of the mood prevailing immediately

after the catastrophe, as is proved by the resignation with which Isocrates
recommended renunciation of seapower and the peace of Antalcidas (386) as
the basis of Athenian politics. New hopes for the deployment of Greek power,
even though under foreign leadership, were roused by the rise of Philip of
Macedon. When the peace of Philocrates seemed to open up the possibility of
an agreement with the new power, Isocrates sent forth an open letter to Philip,'
an invitation to the king of the Macedonians to unite the Greeks as their
benefactor (evepyérns) and to lead them in their great national struggle
against the Persians.
Isocrates, one of the axpdBror of antiquity, began his last work, the Pan-
athenaicus, when he was ninety-four (3) and completed it at the age of ninety-
seven (270). His power of composition has noticeably decreased. He has not
succeeded in making an organic unity of his praise of the city, to which he was
so devoted in his own way, with the review of his own work and the search for
the best constitution, which he found in a compromise between the three main
forms.
Together with the speeches, nine Letters of Isocrates’ have been handed down.
The well-founded distrust with which the epistolographical tradition has been
regarded since Richard Bentley’s classical criticism (1699) also makes it difficult
to decide on individual letters by Isocrates; but it is more probable that genuine
letters have been preserved of the great publicist than in other cases. The parts
which fit into Isocrates’ political programme as we know it from the speeches
are of particular importance. In Phil. 81 there is mention of an open letter to
Dionysius I of Syracuse and it is possible that the preface to this letter has been
preserved as Ep. 1; it is supposed to win the tyrant over to a combined Greek
enterprise.” The letter to Philip (Ep. 2) is definitely considered as genuine. It is
datable to 344, because mention is made of a wound received by the king. In
this letter Isocrates hopefully seeks to bring about good relations between his
city and Philip. Ep. 3 is also addressed to Philip and the genuineness of the
letter is defended by influential scholars. Directly after Chaeronea Philip is
invited to undertake the leadership of the Greeks against the Persians. Ep. 4 to
Antipater may be considered as genuine, while Ep. 5, a short letter to Alexander,
is subject to serious doubt.+ Of two letters, Ep. 6 to the children of Jason of
Pherae and Ep. 9 to Archidamus, only some fragments have been preserved; the
latter especially is of doubtful genuineness.’
Of the surviving works the Speech to Demonicus is rejected as spurious; it
loosely combines some exhortatory maxims into a sort of pragmatism. It
belongs to the fourth century and shows Isocratic features. Its connection with
1 5, PERLMANN, ‘Isocrates’ Philippus — a Reinterpretation’. Historia 6, 1957, 306.
2 Thus cautiously JAEGER, Dem. (v. p. 585, n. 6).
3 Bibl. in BENGTSON, Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 315, 4.
4 JAEGER (v. sup.), 247.
s Opposing the authenticity of Ep. 6, though not convincingly, MIKKOLA (v. inf. on
Isocrates), 290. Ep. 9 athetized by sCcHMITZ-KAHLMANN (v. inf. on Isocrates), 123 and by
others, but cf. STEIDLE (v. inf. on Isocrates), 284. §.
587
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Aristotle’s Protrepticus was mentioned earlier (p. 5 54). Parts of the speech To
Nicocles are missing in the portions quoted in the Antidosis, but this is not
decisive evidence against its genuineness.’ Many details of Isocrates’ rhetorical
teaching have been handed down,? but a proper textbook (réxvn) by him did
not exist.
Isocrates’ influence was as variegated as the epoch in which he lived. We
shall attempt to trace it in three spheres which are variously interrelated, those of
the educator, the political publicist and the literary artist.
Isocrates stressed the special nature and what he considered the special value
of his teaching by drawing clear boundary lines between it and philosophy as
Plato understood it and the purely practical rhetoric of law-court and assembly.
The last-mentioned circumstance brought him close to Plato; and the latter
could hardly fail to be pleased (cf. Phaedo 96 a ff.) at the rejection of natural-
philosophical speculation (Ant. 285 t@v madadv co¢ioTGv Teparodoyiat).
There were other points on which they were in agreement, such as an apprecia-
tion of talent and education as factors in the training of the good orator. So to
some extent we can understand the praise which the Platonic Socrates bestows
upon the young Isocrates at the end of the Phaedrus (279 a), that his intellectual
physiognomy showed a philosophical trait and that there were great expectations
for his future. But it must also be borne in mind at once that the Phaedrus is not
an early work of Plato’s and that Isocrates had already crossed the threshold of
old age when this passage was written. This fact puts the praise in a curious
light, and it has been interpreted as being more like cutting sarcasm.’ This is
going too far and it would be more justified to stress the retrospective nature of
this statement, by which Plato wanted to show his appreciation for certain
possibilities of rhetoric as he saw it.+
In spite of such expressions of mutual esteem, however, they were separated
by something far more important. Isocrates did not take a stand against the
speculations of the natural philosophers alone. In his speech Against the Sophists
and in the preface to the Helen he attacks the eristics, and though Plato is not
mentioned, the Academy is included. And even when in some of the works of
his old age (Antid. 261 ff. Panath. 27) he grants, with some readiness for con-
cessions, a certain value for a formal education to mathematical and philosophical
studies, his attitude is as radically separated from Plato’s unconditional way to
the Absolute as Callicles’ opinion in Plato’s Gorgias (484 c) that philosophy is a
praiseworthy thing for a young man, but should be stopped at the right time.
In both cases he reproached philosophy, as Plato understood it, with being
divorced from life. Isocrates, however, wishes (Antid. 285) to train in his school
people who know how to run their own homes properly and to take a successful

* Otherwise MIKKOLA (v. inf. on Isocrates), 285 with bibl.

2 Collected by RADERMACHER (Vv. p. 584, n. T), 153.
3 Thus H. RAEDER, ‘Platon und die Rhetoren’. Filos. Medd. Dan. Vid. Selsk. 2/6, 1956, 15.
4 KL. RIES, I. und Platon im Ringen um die Philosophie, Diss. Munich 1959, is of the same
opinion in his exhaustive interpretation of the passage of the PHAEDRUS. This diss. also has
a collection of the bibl. of this theme, completed by w. BURKERT, Gnom. 33, 1961, 349.
588
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

part in political life. In principle it is the old tenet of the sophists, good counsel
(edBovdAia), which turns up again.!
How serious a competitor of the Academy Isocrates was with his educational
claims is shown by the very fact that he states that he represents true philosophy
(Antid. 270). For him it is based on the anti-Platonic conviction that absolute
knowledge (€mvoryn) is denied to man because of his very nature and that
therefore the proper thing to do is to ensure success in each single case on the
basis of correct opinion ($d&a), or, speaking Isocratically, to seize the aupds.*
According to Isocrates’ repeatedly stated conviction, rhetorical schooling pro-
vides the training for such worldly wisdom, for in his opinion the right word is
found in the same way as proper counsel and action. It has been rightly observed3
that in accordance with Greek linguistic usage the ethical element is retained in
these notions, but this should not conceal the fundamental difference with Plato
which appears here too; while Plato demands that every expression of human
life should aim at the metaphysical idea of the good, Isocrates claims that one
should intelligently consider the best way to face the realities of life, of which
ethical postulates are a part.
Isocrates’ programme was not ideally elevated by transcendental values and
least of all by his religious impulses, for he combined a hearty streak of agnosti-
cism with a friendly benevolence towards tradition. Isocrates was very much the
spokesman for his age in that education was the leading idea which provided
the stimulus for his entire activity and doctrine. For Isocrates education means
above all else the ability to speak, for man is distinguished from animals, and
the Greek from barbarians, by the power of speech. It has been correctly
observed that these are the elements of a humanism, based on eloquence, which
Cicero passed on to Petrarch.+ Education of this nature flourished in Athens
more than in any other Greek city. Pericles’ words (Thuc. 2. 41) describing
Athens as an education for Greece, are echoed with an effective extension of
meaning (Paneg. 50): the students of this city are the teachers of other people.
Here we also find the significant statement that the name of Greek describes
partnership in Greek culture rather than racial kinship. Of course, this remark
does not yet propose a general idea of humanity, nor is it an outline of Hellenistic
culture, but the changing emphasis implied is an indispensable condition for
the loosening of old bonds by new ones. At the same time a development is
completed which began with the sophists; educated man as envisaged by
Isocrates is separated from his fellow-citizens by a deep chasm.
A considerable number of Isocrates’ speeches deal with political questions of
great moment. He is vividly interested in the old problem of reshaping the
1 W. BURKERT, Gnom. 33, 1961, 353, raises the question of how Plato and Isocrates
would react to the reality of our time. The question is interesting and can yield a great deal
for a criticism of our era but little for that of the men compared.
2 Contrast between éemoriyn and Kaipos, e.g. Hel. 5. Antid. 184. 271. On the «apos-notion
in I.: WERSDORFER (v. inf. on Isocrates), 54.
3 STEIDLE (v. inf. on Isocrates), 268. 270.
+ Cf. B. SNELL, The Discovery of Mind, Oxf. 1953, 247.
5 On the passage J. JUTHNER, ‘I. und die Menschheitsidee’. Wien. Stud. 47, 1929, 26.
U 589
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Athenian constitution on authoritarian principles and the very assiduous

emphasis on good democratic principles shows that basically old oligarchic
tendencies are active here. But the demands of foreign politics matter most to
him and the thought that a union of Greek states could enable a new deployment
of power aimed against Persia, occupied him from an early stage until his death.
In the Panegyricus he still hopes that a sort of Athenian-Spartan dyarchy could
bring about the end he desired (17), with the Athenians regaining their former
naval supremacy; later he became more and more convinced that only a strong
personality could carry through this fusion of the Hellenic powers. For a time
Jason of Pherae roused these hopes (Phil. 199 f.), then Dionysius I, until Philip
of Macedon stepped forth as the candidate for this position. The open letter to
him and the earlier mentioned letters are the clearest expression of this line of
thought.
Isocrates’ political publications were criticized in many different ways." In the
Antidosis (276) he contrasts the subjects of his own speeches with those of
practical rhetoric as great, beautiful, mankind-loving (¢vAavOpezovs) and
concerned with the common weal. Were these themes, as many believed, merely
a momentous and dignified opportunity for the exhibition of his rhetorical art?
Or are the defenders of the opposite view right who, as Beloch does, assigned
to Isocrates’ publications great importance for the historical development and
even assumed, with extreme exaggeration, that the orator had influenced
Philip’s policies? This is out of the question, but it should not be overlooked
that many of the speeches dealt with questions of decisive and immediate
importance. Isocrates certainly was not the first to put them, nor did he express
them in original terms,” but his speeches were broadcast all over the Greek
world in the form of pamphlets and they must have exerted some influence on
public opinion, even if we can no longer assess its extent. Nor should it be
overlooked in this connection that renowned politicians, notably Conon’s son
Timotheus, the strongest personality of the second naval league, were pupils of
Isocrates’ and remained in close touch with him.
Isocrates achieved his strongest influence in the realm of Greek literature
through his perfection of Attic literary prose. In this respect he was, of course,
the pupil of Gorgias, who discovered the magic of words as embodied sound,
but he learned to employ with a wise moderation what his teacher lavishly
squandered for the sake of emotional effect. He himself declared (Phily27.
Panath, 2) that he even increased this economy in his old age. For the restless
play of antitheses with the flashing lights of piled-on sound figures he substituted
the broad flow of the period. Careful avoidance of hiatus and sustained rhythm
raise it to the level of a rationally calculated work of verbal art. Isocrates always
knows how beautifully he speaks. It is obvious that in his work an event with

I Bibl. in Bengtson (v. p. 587, n. 3), 292. J. E. BUCHNER strongly reduces the political
actuality of the speeches, v. p. 585, n. 2. Bibl. on the question also in H.-J. NEWIGER,
Gnom. 33, 1961, 761.
* Renunciation of originality (Paneg. 10) is to a certain extent generally Greek, but par-
ticularly characteristic of I.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
fateful consequences for the future is taking place. Literary prose, sure of its
influence, begins to drive out poetry with imperious self-assurance. In the
speech To Nicocles (43) Hesiod, Theognis and Phocylides appear as counsellors
and admonishers, which function is now taken over by the orator; and in the
Euagoras (9 ff.) he himself stresses the competition with poetry with regard to
the encomium.
We just spoke of a fateful event. An objective observation of the widespread
influence which Isocrates exerted through his school, an appreciation of a certain
importance as a political publicist, the broad construction of his periods cannot
conceal the fact that in his speeches the beginnings of the depletion and torpidity
become perceptible which in the course of the centuries affected the whole of
Greek literature and finally let it go to ruin in the name of rhetoric. This skill,
which vaunts (Paneg. 8) that it can make the great insignificant and bestow
greatness on the petty! ousts the unity of form and contents. Perhaps our judg-
ment of Isocrates may appear to be harsh; it was, however, said by Hermogenes
(7. ¢3. 397. 24 R.) not by modern critics, that his style smacks of senility and
pedantry.?
It should be borne in mind that Isocrates’ rhetorical occupation was part of a
very lively activity in this field. In connection with the sophists we have already
met a number of teachers of rhetoric: Antisthenes (p. 353), Polus (p. 353),
Thrasymachus (p. 357), Alcidamas (p. 356);3 to these we may probably add as
improvising rhetoricians Lycophron,*+ Theodorus (p. 357), Licymnius (p. 353),
Evenus (p. 357) and Polycrates (p. 495). Anaximenes of Lampsacus was a pupil
of the orator and Homeric critic Zoelus,>5 whom we also mentioned earlier.
We shall presently meet him as an historian, but here we must mention his
Rhetorica ad Alexandrum (‘Pytopixn mpos *AA€Eavdpov), which finished up
among Aristotle’s works. P. Victorius correctly suggested that it should be
attributed to Anaximenes in view of Quintilian 3. 4, 9. This is corroborated by
a very early Hibeh papyrus (no. 43 P., first half 3rd cent. B.c.), which contains
considerable parts of the work. It owes its name to the spurious dedicatory letter
to Alexander. Since we have to date it before Aristotle’s Rhetoric in about 340,
it is our oldest surviving textbook in this field. Recently Manfred Fuhrmann®
showed in an excellent analysis that in spite of the use of important principles of
classification the work does not present a true system of rhetorical theory, but
sticks to individual precepts and that its composition is largely controlled by
1 In Plat. Phaedr. 267 a, this appears as the project of Tisias and Gorgias; cf. also Ps.-
Demetr., De Eloc. 120. Cic. Brut. 47.
2 This judgment was felt to be ‘more than a little unfair’, so we shall summon another
witness from antiquity, Philonicus the dialectician who in Dion. Hal. de Isocr. c. 13 re-
proaches Isocrates with Kevorgs.
3 On the contrast between Isocrates and Alcidamas, cf. P. FRIEDLANDER, Platon 1, 2nd
ed. Berl. 1954, I17.
4 VS 83. RADERMACHER (p. $84, n. I), 189.
5 y, p. 572, also RADERMACHER, ¥. sup. 198. Anaximenes ibid. 200.
6 Das systematische Lehrbuch, Gottingen 1960. Comm. ed.: L. SPENGEL, Anaximenes, Ars
Rhetorica. Leipz. 1844. Text in SPENGEL-HAMMER, Rhetores Graeci I/2. 1894. Transl. w. D.
ross, Works of Aristotle 11. Oxf. 1952.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

association and antithesis. An oration written in Doric, of which we find frag-

ments in an Oxyrhynchus papyrus,’ may also belong to this epoch; its author
is unknown.
Of the ten masters of Attic rhetoric who were collected in one canon in the
Hellenistic age we already discussed Antiphon and Andocides in connection
with the problems posed by the former’s name. Isocrates, who was also classed
with the great models, demanded a separate discussion. We shall now survey
the remaining seven.
During the second half of the last century and close to the First World War the
Attic orators attracted the attention of scholars, especially in Germany, to such
a degree that later they had to pay the penalty for this favoured position. During
the past few decades little work has been done in this field in comparison with
other authors. Rhetoric had come to be distrusted; only what was true to life
and absolutely genuine was wanted from antiquity. It may be expected, how-
ever, that in the not too distant future the Attic orators will be appreciated for
what they undoubtedly still are, important witnesses of the cultural and
intellectual life of the fourth century and representatives of Attic prose at its
classical height.
The great discussion of the Platonic Republic is staged at the house of Cephalus,
who is shown at the opening of the work in the peace of a sunny old age. This
Cephalus had migrated from his native Syracuse to Athens as a metic and had
amassed a considerable fortune manufacturing shields with 120 slaves. His sons
were Polemarchus, who takes part in the conversation in Book 1 of the Republic,
Euthydemus and Lysias, who are both mentioned as being present. The latter
became the most successful writer of forensic speeches and a much-admired
model of style for later times whom the Atticists in particular chose as their guide.
Besides his speech Against Eratosthenes, the writings of Dionysius of Halicarnassus
(Lysias) and Ps.-Plutarch (Vita dec. or.) help us to form a picture of his life.
His father lived in Athens for thirty years; he had come there at the invitation
of Pericles, who had probably already reached a leading position at that time.
This establishes 460 as the earliest date for the migration from Syracuse and 430
for Cephalus’ death. After his father’s death Lysias, then fifteen years old, went
to the new colony of Thuriiin southern Italy with his elder brother Polemarchus.
This gives 445 or a short time later as the date for Lysias’ birth; the ancient
indication of the year 459 is based on the erroneous assumption that Lysias came
to Thurii in the year of its settlement (444).
In southern Italy the young Lysias received his rhetorical training. The
pseudo-Plutarch mentions Tisias as his teacher. When conditions became
difficult for Athenian sympathizers in Thurii after the Sicilian débacle, he
returned to Athens with his brother. There he lived in very comfortable
circumstances, which, however, became his misfortune when the Thirty seized
his wealth. The tyrants had his brother Polemarchus killed and he himself
escaped to Megara. From there he supported the movement for the democratic
restitution with money, weapons and men. Directly after the return of the
™ No. 410=no. 1785 P. W. KROLL, RE S 7, 1940, 1052. RADERMACHRR, ». Sup. 231.
592
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

democrats to the city, which took place in September 403, Thrasybulus put a
motion for citizenship for Lysias together with other metics, but Archinus,
who was a moderate like Theramenes, lodged an indictment for illegality
(zapavéuwv); Thrasybulus’ motion had not been submitted to the council for
approval (zpoBovAevya) and so the objection brought about the annulment of
the decree. Lysias remained a metic all his life, though he belonged to the group
favoured by isotely, which meant classification with the citizens in respect of
financial payments. His activity can be traced up to his speech for Pherenicus
(c. 380); we do not know how long he lived after that.
A passage in Cicero’s Brutus (48), which refers back to Aristotle, contains a
notice that Lysias at first taught the technique of rhetoric, but he was so far over-
shadowed by Theodorus that he preferred to turn to the business of speech-
writing and wrote forensic orations for others. So his development was the
reverse of Isocrates’. In fact, we have several testimonies to writings of Lysias’!
which do not suit the speechwriter but the teacher of rhetoric and the composer
of models. We hear of a speech for the defence For Nicias, though Dionysius
wants to deny him this; of one For Socrates and of Letters, which were largely of
erotic content. Here Lysias appears as the originator of a genre which had
representatives well into the Byzantine era. The Eroticus which Plato reproduced
in his Phaedrus is of this genre, though it is hard to say how accurate his repro-
duction is. In the typical sophistical manner the non-lover is compared with the
lover as the more profitable partner of a liaison. Mention is also made of
Technical Writings (Téyvae pyntopixat), which were probably similar to the
Parasceuae, to which is also referred.
it is difficult to say how early this tendency in Lysias’ development is to be
dated. His rhetorical activity may have begun soon after his return from Thurii.
Nor can two sharply separated periods in Lysias’ creative work be inferred from
the Cicero passage quoted; the speechwriter may occasionally have returned to
working as an orator and sophist.
Lysias was extraordinarily prolific and this productivity inspired the forgers
who placed their products under his celebrated name. Ps.-Plutarch reports 425
speeches which circulated as Lysias’, and adds that in the circle of Dionysius and
Caecilius 233 of these were recognized as genuine. Blass compiled the titles of
172 speeches; of these thirty-four have been preserved without the Eroticus. It
becomes clear at once that Lysias wrote only for parties to a lawsuit. His few
surviving speeches also show exceptions, of course. A fragment (34 in our
editions) which Dionysius preserved in his Lysias comes from a political speech
delivered against a motion of Phormisius’ in the situation of 403. The speaker,
who advocates a radical restoration of the democracy, opposes the return of the
exiles and the restriction of citizenship to landowners. Joseph Walz? has shown

' References in RADERMACHER, V. Sup. 147.

2 Der lys. Epitaphios. Phil. Suppl. 29/4/1936. Otherwise Pp. TREVES, Riv. Fil. N.S. 15, 1937,
113. 278. The authenticity vigorously defended by £. BUCHNER, Der Panegyrikos des Iso-
krates. Wiesbaden 1958 (Historia Einzelschr. 2). On this question also J. KLOWSKI, Zur
Echtheitsfrage des lysianischen Epitaphios. Diss. Hamb. 1959 (typescr.).
595
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

that it probably was Lysias who wrote the much suspected Epitaphios (2) on the
fallen in the Corinthian War, and that he did so before Isocrates’ Panegyricus,
with which it has some similarity. But it remains unbelievable that Lysias as a
metic should have delivered this speech; it must be considered as a purely
literary work. The Olympiacus (33) was actually read out at the Olympic
celebrations of 388; once again Dionysius has preserved part of it. This call for
Greek unity accompanied with violent attacks on Dionysius I of Syracuse had a
very drastic result; the ostentatious marquee of the Syracusan embassy to the
festival was looted by the mob.
Everything discussed so far seems to be only accessory to the picture of Lysias
the speechwriter, who in his speeches for others put on so many masks. But once
he himself also appeared in the lawcourt, when in 403 in his speech Against
Eratosthenes (12) he accused the latter of having caused, as a member of the
Thirty, the execution of his brother Polemarchus. The legal premisses are not
quite clear, but it seems to have been a matter of an indictment at the occasion
of the account which Eratosthenes had to give of his actions in order to rehabili-
tate himself according to the law of amnesty of 403. A few years later Lysias
wrote the speech Against Agoratus (13) who had caused the death of democratic
politicians while he was in the pay of the oligarchs. One of the papyrus
finds which have increased our knowledge of Lysias contains fragments of a
speech Against Hippotherses (no. to15 P.); they show that for years after the
restitution of the democracy Lysias was still involved in lawsuits about his lost
fortune.!
An important part of the value of these and other speeches is that they give a
direct insight into the internal conditions of Athens. This also comprises eco-
nomic history in the speech Against the Wheat traders (22, Kata t@v aitoT Aw)
which indicts, obviously in the interest of the wholesalers, some metics who as
middle men had bought up wheat over the legally permissible quantity. The
reproach has been levelled at Lysias that in his speeches he readily changed
opinions according to the customer of the moment; Ferckel in particular has
zealously drawn him as an unprincipled opportunist. Now it is correct that
Lysias, the sworn democrat, occasionally wrote for oligarchs as well (16; 25);
that he, as each occasion demanded, took the viewpoint of the current law of
amnesty or carelessly ignored it; that in the years of renewed Athenian power
politics he lent his voice in the speeches Against Ergocles (28) and Against Philo-
crates (29) to an extravagant radicalism and that he dealt with the questions of
the fortunes of the highly placed in a way which wholly contradicted his
speech On the Fortune of Aristophanes (19). But instead of turning Lysias into a
scoundrel without a country, of whom nothing better can be expected, it is
more useful to understand, as a historical fact, the position of aspeechwriter who
lived and wrote in an era which was dominated by the sophists. No one will
wish to argue that his adaptability — is it typical of Lysias only or of his age? — is
a morally elevating spectacle, but in his work it has a bearing on something
much more gratifying, his great ability to shape his speeches according to the
' On the difficult individual questions Ferckel (v. sup. on Lysias), 63.
594
 THEE LOWERING OF THE GREBK CILY STATE

character and condition of the people for whom he writes.! Lysias proved his
artistry, in which nobody equalled him, especially in his speeches for private
persons. His masterpiece is the speech For the Cripple (24, ‘Yaep tod aSuvdrov),?
in which a little man battles cunningly and humorously for the continuance of
his pension. The speech On the Olive-tree (7, Ilept tod onxob, which refers to
the enclosure of a sacred olive tree) has an entirely different background, but it
is equally sharply and accurately understood. Here a member of the property-
owning class defends himself before the Areopagus with dignity and indignation
against the accusation that he had offended against one of the holy trees or its
fencing.
The faithful portrayal of character in these forensic speeches imposed narrow
limits on the use of rhetorical ornamentation, which Lysias was very well able
to apply in the epideictic speeches. He succeeded in turning this enforced
simplicity into a special merit which was greatly admired by a later age. These
speeches also show great narrative power. When in the speech for the defence
of Euphilus On the Murder of Eratosthenes (1, “Yaép tod ’Epatoabévous ddvov)3
he tells the story of the wanton who locks her husband up in his room when
she is making love, and of his well-planned revenge, it is indeed hardly possible
not to think of Boccaccio. Though little more than the title is known, we also
mention his speech On his Own Services (Ilept tv éavtod evepyeoidy or.
deperd. 47. fr. 36 Th.) because it must have contained autobiographical
information.
Since we know of numerous forgeries which circulated in antiquity, the
question cannot be avoided whether any such can be detected among the
preserved speeches. The decision is so difficult that Hude in his excellent edition
attributed everything to Lysias, even when it is of doubtful genuineness. As
stated earlier (p. 355), the sixth speech with the indictment of Andocides and
the twentieth with the defence of Polystratus are spurious. For the rest we
content ourselves with pointing out the particularly strong grounds for suspicion
against the eighth speech‘ and the need for a new treatment of the whole complex
of questions.
Isaeus, the son of Diagoras from Euboean Chalcis, was also a metic. He, too,
worked as a teacher of rhetoric and5 composed speeches for others, though there

! It is, of course, no longer possible to refer what Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Lys. c. 8,

praises as the orator’s 7o7ova simply to his skill in characterizing individuals. In his pene-
trating work "Avyfozointos. Eine semasiologische Untersuchung aus der antiken Rhetorik und
Ethik (Sitzb. Deutsche Akad. KI. f. Spr., Lit. u. Kunst 1952/4, 1953) FRIEDRICH ZUCKER
has shown that Dionysius does not imply with 7ozo.va a differentiation of the speakers’
characters. They should rather appear as honest, right-thinking men of integrity, who
express themselves in this way. 2 Comm.: U. ALBINI, Florence 1956.
3 Excellent discussion by u. £. PAOLI, Die Geschichte der Neaira. Bern 1953, 28 (the Ital.
original: Uomini e cose del mondo antico. Florence 1947). He correctly denies that in the case
of Eratosthenes’ death it was a matter of the man to whom L. in the 1ath speech imputed
guilt for the killing of Polemarchus.
4 p. A. MULLER, Oratio quae inter Lysiacas fertur octava. Munster 1926. Several atheteses in
CHRIST-SCHMID, Gesch. d. gr. Lit. 1, 6th ed. Munich 1912, 559, S$.
5 The scanty evidence in RADERMACHER (v. p. 384, n. 1), 190.
aSPs
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

is no evidence that these two activities succeeded one another as in the case of
Lysias. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who also wrote an Isaeus, admits in the
introduction that he knows little of the date and course of his life. But he was
Demosthenes’ teacher and Hermippus, who wrote a treatise about Isocrates’
pupils, says that he was one of these. Isaeus’ care in avoiding hiatus agrees with
this statement without proving its truth. For the date of his work as a speech-
writer only the first half of the fourth century can be roughly indicated.
According to the notice of Ps.-Plutarch in the Vitae or. he left sixty-four
speeches; the authenticity of fourteen of these was dubious. We possess eleven
speeches on legacy cases, of the last one the torso only. In Dionysius’ treatise
there is also a fairly large fragment from the speech For Euphiletus, who brought
an action against the deme Erchia for his deletion from the citizen-list.
According to Dionysius Isaeus’ style had some affinity with Lysias’, but he
also shows subtle understanding in his analysis of the difference between them.
It is well put that the forensic speeches of Lysias (and Isocrates) create an impres-
sion of simple honesty even in notorious cases, while those of Isaeus (and
Demosthenes) rouse suspicion through the abundance of artifices, even when the
case in point is a good one. In fact, Isaeus is lacking in the natural simplicity
which in Lysias is the result of an extreme refinement. Not only is his argumenta-
tion more subtle, due to the requirements of difficult legacy cases, but his
language also displays a greater richness in figures of speech than Lysias’.
In the same way in which the Greeks meant Homer when speaking of ‘the
poet’, so Demosthenes was simply ‘the orator’ for later antiquity. At that time
his fame had been an established fact for a long time, and it remained associated
with his name until in this century modern scholarship made him a controversial
problem. As a result of the fame which Demosthenes enjoyed in antiquity,
there are fairly abundant sources available for him. Apart from Ps.-Plutarch’s
Vitae or. and the two treatises of Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ilepi rs Anpo-
abévous A€Eews and ’Emorod} mpos ’Appatov) there is Plutarch’s biography
of Demosthenes which also contains polemical features; another of the same
kind by the orator Libanius, with hypotheses to the individual speeches; one
by Zosimus; an anonymous one; and finally three articles in Suidas. The
remains of ancient commentaries will be discussed with the tradition. Since
most of Demosthenes’ speeches provided a great deal of biographical informa-
tion, they are of great importance, like the speeches of his opponents Aeschines,
Hyperides and Dinarchus, for our knowledge of his life.
Demosthenes, the son of Demosthenes of the deme Paeania, born in Athens
in 384, belonged, like Isocrates and the metic Lysias, to the class of the well-to-do
entrepreneurs. His father had a weapon-workshop and also possessed other
property. His mother Cleobule is supposed to have had Scythian blood, which
caused his opponents (Dinarchus, Against Dem. 15. cf. Aeschines, 3. 172) to
turn him derisively into a Scythian. Still it may be fairly asked if the sombre
passion which, together with a very acute feeling for form, moulded him
into the greatest orator of antiquity, should not be understood as a maternal
legacy.
596
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

When the boy was 7 years old he lost his father. The three guardians, Apho-
bus, Demophon and Therippides, proved to be untrustworthy trustees of the
property, and immediately upon reaching manhood Demosthenes was involved
in important lawsuits to save at least something of his previous wealth. So at an
early stage he had to test in earnest what he had learned from Isacus, whom
tradition mentions as his teacher. Already during his training he gave evidence
of the rigour of his will-power which later ensured his influence over the masses,
when he successfully struggled with several physical handicaps. He formed his
mind with the same care. According to Cicero! he read and even heard Plato.
Thucydides had a particularly strong influence on him? and the picture of
Athenian greatness which he found there remained a controlling influence in
his life; Plutarch’s story of how he became interested in rhetoric (Dem. 5) sounds
like an anecdote; his pedagogue smuggled him into the session of the law-court
at which Callimachus defended himself brilliantly against the accusation that the
loss of the frontier place Oropus was his fault, and there the young Demosthenes
received the decisive impression of the power of speech. The veracity of the
story cannot be proved, but it should not be rejected out of hand.
Demosthenes’ speech of indictment in the legal battle he had to wage against
his dishonest guardians, Against Aphobus, and his answer to the latter’s defence,
have been preserved. A third speech, Against Aphobus, in which Demosthenes
defended the witness against the accusation of perjury, was often suspected, but
increasingly serious grounds for its authenticity have been produced.} At first
Demosthenes had some success in his action, which lasted for years and was held
up for various reasons, such as his service as an ephebe. But Onetor, the brother
of Aphobus’ divorced wife, disputed this success by laying hands on a piece of
land which Demosthenes wanted to mortgage. And so the battle was carried
on, of which two speeches Against Onetor provide us with evidence. We do not
know its result but suspect that Demosthenes incurred heavy losses.
The art which he had practised for his own ends was now put at the disposal
of others against payment. He is supposed to have given classes in rhetoric as
well, but there is nothing to tell of the extent of this activity; he certainly did
not run a school.
Our tradition offers an imposing number of speeches in private lawsuits
(27-59). But it is in this very part that the uncertainty of our tradition becomes
apparent, for much that is spurious is no doubt hidden under the name of
Demosthenes. Even the most conservative critic must surrender unconditionally
in the face of a piece like the speech Against Theocrines (58), since Demosthenes
himself is violently attacked here. But not all the cases are so clear-cut and it is
to be expected that a new treatment of these questions will move the limits
1 Brut. 121; also Or. 15 with the doubtful appeal to letters of D. Cf. r. EGERMANN, Vom
attischen Menschenbild. Munich 1952, 59 with n. 86 f.
2 Dionysius, Thuc. 53. Plut. Dem. 6 and others.
3 Already by Bass, Die att. Beredsamkeit. 2nd ed. 3/1, 232. Then by G. M. CALHOUN, ‘A
problem of Authenticity (Dem. 29)’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 65, 1934, 80. GERNET assumes
in his edition that an editor combined various parts written by Demosthenes.
+ Aeschines 1, 117; 170 ff.
U2 597
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

somewhat in favour of authenticity. Blass was prepared to recognize only

fifteen speeches! as definitely genuine, including those dealing with the legacy
lawsuit. In these speeches Demosthenes rarely reaches the power of description
and the subtlety of calculated argumentation which we value in Lysias. But the
speech Against Conon (54) deserves to be singled out for the manner in which it
depicts a violent brawl with adequate directness.’ Eight among the speeches
preserved concern lawsuits in which a certain Apollodorus appears. The speech
For Phormio (36) which was read by an advocate (cvv7yopos), is without doubt
Demosthenes’. Whether this reader was Demosthenes himself is dubious.
Interesting is the insight which we are given into the structure of a certain class
of Athenian society about 350.3 Phormio was first a slave, then an assistant,
finally through tenure the successor in business of the great financier Pasion
(v. p. 505). When the latter died, Phormio married his widow, as the will
stipulated. But since there were two sons — the elder was Apollodorus, who was
of age by now — a situation arose which hardly ever comes to a conclusion
without recourse to law. The trouble arose from some sums of money which
Phormio was alleged to have kept for himself after the woman’s death and
when the business seemed to have been settled by agreement, Apollodorus
appeared after a long time with a new complaint against Phormio. The latter
retorted with an objection for which the grounds are given in Demosthenes’
speech and which achieved its purpose. But Apollodorus was not satisfied and
soon afterwards preferred charges of perjury against Stephanus, the witness for
the defence. There is no denying the deplorable fact that Demosthenes wrote
the speech Against Stephanus (45) and, as a witticism preserved in Plutarch
(Dem. 15) states, sold in fact daggers from his weapons shop to both parties in
the dispute. But there is a conjecture which may make his conduct easier to
explain. Apollodorus was proving useful to the anti-Macedonian party and was
determined to oppose payment of the theoric money. This made him Demos-
thenes’ ally and so he could claim his support.
This Apollodorus was a litigious man in other respects, of which six other
speeches (46, likewise Against Stephanus, 49, 50, $3, 59) give evidence. They are
one and all spurious. Their appearance in the corpus of Demosthenes’ speeches
is instructive, for here we observe for once how a mass of spurious material
entered the tradition from private archives which were justifiably assumed to
contain genuine Demosthenes. The last speech in this series is the one Against
Neaera,* a one-time hetaera whom a political adventurer of the worst kind had
smuggled into middle-class Athenian society, together with her daughter.
Apollodorus was the speaker of the complaint on behalf of his son-in-law.
The speech Against Zenothemis (32)5 belongs already in the reign of Alexander;
* Cf. p. 597, n. 3. It concerns speeches 27-31, 36-39, 41, 45, 5I, $4, $5, 57-
2 Paoli has discussed the speech in an excellent manner, cf. P5951 el nenes (@2)ralso
about the dating.
3 On the dating Paoli v. sup. 93. Comm. £. ZIEBARTH, Heidelb. 1936.
+ In detail on this PAOLI, (v. sup.), 65. A collection of this sort of tradition in WILA-
MOWITZ, Herm. $8, 1923, 68; now KI. Schr. 4, 324.
§ The authenticity remains subject to doubt. On the speech paott v. sup. 113.
598
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

it deals with the fantastic adventures of a ship's cargo. The speaker is Demon, a
relative of Demosthenes’. In the concluding part, unfortunately truncated, he
tells that he had asked Demosthenes for legal assistance but that the latter had
pointed out his position in politics and his consequent abstinence from private
cases. If this is an actual statement of Demosthenes’, it proves that he had ceased
to perform the function of an attorney (cvvijyopos) since he had been playing
an active part in public affairs as an orator. This does not contradict the fact that
at this time he still wrote forensic speeches for others.
Items 25 and 26 of our collection are two speeches Against Aristogiton, forensic
speeches with an historical background, since they opposed the action of an evil
demagogue who was also being sued by Dinarchus and Lycurgus. Dionysius
(Dem. 57) already declared them to be spurious. Earlier (p. 359) we mentioned
the first of them, because of its statements about the origin of enacted law.!
Demosthenes’ entry into Athenian politics is announced by four of his
speeches, three of them in lawsuits concerning domestic politics (Against
Androtion, Against Timocrates, Against Leptines), while the speech On the Sym-
mories was his first policy speech. It is important that we can date the first of the
speeches mentioned with sufficient confidence at 355/354. At the time the War
of the Allies (357-355) and with it the dream of the restoration of Athenian
naval power had just come to its conclusion. The prevailing mood was one of
resignation, as reflected in the peace oration of the ageing Isocrates. But Demos-
thenes was of a different opinion; for him the failure of the naval alliance could
not mean the end of a glowing faith, nourished by tradition, in the greatness of
Athens. In those years an opposition had formed which wanted to make a clean
sweep of the leaders of the régime that had failed, in order to raise up Athens
again economically through prudent limitation to what was feasible and with a
careful maintenance of peace. The faction which advocated this sober economic
programme, which is also reflected in Xenophon’s Poroe, was headed by
Eubulus, who since 354 had held a key-position as the administrator of the fund
for theatre moneys (theoricon). Recent research3 has brought to light the
important information that Demosthenes, though his later path inevitably
deviated from Eubulus’, took his first steps in politics as the latter’s follower.
The speech Against Androtion is directed against the pupil of Isocrates who is
known as the compiler of an Afthis which is often referred to and who played
a political role in the circles against which the representatives of the new political
trend had declared war. Formally it deals with an indictment for illegal motion
(ypadi) zapavdpwv); Androtion had moved the crowning of the council,
although they had not completed the construction of new ships to the number
prescribed. Its actual aim, however, was the political elimination of Androtion,

* Opposed by M. POHLENZ, ‘Anonymus zepl véuwv’. GGN 1924, 19 trying to prove its
authenticity. C. H. KRAMER, De priore D. adv. Aristogeitonem oratione. Diss. Leipz. 1930. We
have left the controversial srst speech On the Trierarchical Crown out of consideration.
2 JAEGER, Dem. (v. inf.), 215, 21.
3 Bibl. in BENGTSON, Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 305, 2 and JAEGER, Dem.
(v. inf.), 220, 16.
aos
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

who had also made himself unpopular through the collection of taxes. The
speech Against Timocrates points in the same direction. It attacks a law which had
helped state debtors, amongst them Androtion, to escape impending imprison-
ment for debt. An extensive section of the Timocratea (160-168 and 172-186)
has been lifted almost verbally from the speech Against Androtion (47-56 and
65-78), a circumstance which strongly stresses the similar direction of the
attack just indicated. Occasionally doublets of this kind are also found elsewhere
in Demosthenes.
While the two speeches just mentioned were written for personally insigni-
ficant speakers who were to lead the way for the attack, Demosthenes himself
is supposed by the tradition (Dion. Ep. ad Amm. 1. 4) to have spoken the speech
Against Leptines as Ctesippus’ attorney. The latter was a son of Chabrias’ who
fell in 357 off Chios as trierarch and who had been one of the greatest hopes for
Athens’ new rise. The speech opposed Leptines’ motion to repeal all freedom
from taxes (dréAeva) and to permit exceptions only for descendants of the
tyrant-slayers. If Demosthenes really wrote it to be read by himself, the precise
solemn tone, which stands in strong contrast with the vehemence of the later
political speeches, deserves special attention.
Demosthenes’ first political speech, On the Symmories,! is of the same time as
the three forensic speeches just discussed. The expression symmories means
tax-fellowships which had to equip naval units. Demosthenes appeared before
the popular assembly in order to increase the number of citizens liable to this
duty from 1200 to 2000. The proposal for the increase in armament is connected
with the Persian question in that it opposes all frivolous warmongering against
the old enemy with the consideration that at the time Athens did not command
the resources for such an undertaking.
Conjointly with this oration there are two political speeches which each
deal with a current problem of foreign policy. The speech For the Megalopolites
of the year 352 throws a light on the unutterable confusion of Greek politics.
While Thebes held its position of hegemony, it had taken under its protection
the federal state of the Arcadians founded in 370 and Messene which gained its
independence in 369 as a bastion against Sparta. But when Thebes was past its
heyday and got into difficulties through its troubles with the Phocians, the
position of the new Peloponnesian states with relation to Sparta became highly
critical. At the time the Arcadians asked Athens for an alliance and although they
were still tied to Sparta by treaty, Demosthenes favoured this request. We
emphasized the confusion of the situation to make it understandable that a
criticism of the correctness of this attitude is not easy. At any rate, according to
Eubulus’ interpretation, Athenian intervention in the Peloponnesus meant re-
embarking upon the adventure of power politics, and so the paths of the two
politicians separated. In the speech For the Liberty of the Rhodians,? which possibly

" E. LINK, Unters. zur Symmorienrede des D. Diss. Frankf. 1940. A. KORTE, Gnom. 19,
1943, 34. Further bibl. in BENGTSON (vp. sup.), 305, 3. On the dating at 354/53 and the often
confirmed datings of Dionysius, JAEGER, Dem. (v. inf.) 215, 21; 218, 6.
? FOCKE (v. inf.), 18; cf. JAEGER, Dem. (v. inf.), 224, 41.
600
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

dates from the same year 352, Demosthenes recommended support for the
democrats whom the Carian despot Mausolus had ejected. Such a recommenda-
tion was neither easy nor promising, since the same democrats had allowed
themselves to be persuaded by Mausolus to defect from Athens and so bore a
share of the guilt in the failure of the second naval league.
Against Aristocrates, though delivered before the law-court, is also one of the
speeches on foreign politics. Demosthenes wrote it for Euthycles of Thria, with
whom he had been trierarch at the Hellespont. The speech deals with conditions
in the Thracian region, which was so important for Athens. At the time — the
speech was delivered in 352 or 351 — Philip had already undertaken his first
advance into Thrace, but as yet the danger which Philip meant to Athens is not
emphasized. The indictment for illegality is directed against the motion of
Aristocrates for a vote of special protection for the person of Charidemus, the
brother-in-law and minister of the Thracian king Cersobleptes; whoever killed
him was to be outlawed. In opposition to the group for whom Aristocrates
spoke, Demosthenes favoured support for the Thracian joint ruler Amadocus,
Cersobleptes’ brother.
Very soon after this speech, Philip of Macedon decisively intervened in
Thracian affairs. His intervention forced the Thracian kings to ally themselves
to him by treaty and brought him before the walls of Heraeum Tichus north of
the Propontis and in dangerous proximity to Byzantium. At the time the
Athenians had been in a state of war with Philip for several years; he had
provided the cause for this in the year 357 by occupying Amphipolis and there
were enough other occurrences which indicated who was going to make history
in the future. Pydna had been occupied by Philip, Potidaea destroyed; in the
summer of 354 he took the Greek city of Methone on the Gulf of Therme
opposite Chalcidice; then the ‘sacred war’ against the Phocians about the
hegemony in the Delphian amphictyony, which divided all Greece in two
camps, gave him an opportunity to intervene and to find a footing in Thessaly
in 352. But beforehand he had had to accept two defeats at the hands of the
Phocian Onomarchus, and in the summer of 352 he had been forced to retire by
a demonstration of Greek power at Thermopylae. And finally Macedon did not
possess a fleet which could constitute a real danger. So far there had been other
worries to occupy the Athenians, but the siege of Heraeum Tichus, the attempt
on the Black Sea approaches, was the storm-signal. In the Third Olynthiac Speech
Demosthenes reminds the Athenians of the alarm and activity which the report
of Philip’s undertaking had evoked in the city, though this had soon abated
again. It must also have been the moment of understanding for himself, for
from now on we sce his political leadership directed only against one single
country and enemy: Macedon and Philip.
The earliest evidence of this understanding and its consequences is the First
Philippic,! a vigorous call to the Athenian citizenry, which links criticism ofpast
failures with cheering encouragement. He makes a concrete proposal for
equipping two battle-groups in order to harass Philip incessantly on land and to
1 A, RONCONI, Dem. La prima Filippica. Con introd. e note. Florence 1956.
601
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

be able to attack him with a naval force in his territory. Demosthenes also gave
a detailed plan for the procurement of the means for these forces, but in our text
we read only the key-word ‘indication of financial measures’ (7rdpou a7ddetéts),
valuable evidence that the speeches, which were actually delivered, were meant
to exert their influence also as pamphlets in which some details had been altered
by the author.
The dating of the speech poses a difficult problem. Dionysius (Ep. ad Amm. 4)
indicates the archontic year of 352/1. The time immediately after the attack on
Heraeum Tichus and the relief caused by Philip’s illness would provide an
excellent background to the speech. But it mentions an attempt by Philip
against Olynthus (17), and this can hardly refer to any other but the one of349.
On this basis Eduard Schwartz! established the date in this year and this has
found general acceptance.
Wilamowitz and others wanted to deny that the speech On the Reorganisation
(Ilepi ovvragews)* was by Demosthenes, taking into account the correspon-
dence of numerous passages with other speeches, but recently there has been a
tendency to admit it as genuine. The tenor of the speech, which demands
financial reforms and calls for exertion in the interest of the city, indicates the
year 350.
An illness had deprived Philip of success before Heraeum Tichus; for Athens
it only meant a pause for breath. The next Macedonian thrust was aimed at the
Greek cities in Chalcidice, especially Olynthus.3 In the year 348 the city fell and
was completely destroyed; Chalcidice was in Philip’s hands. At the last minute
Athens had concluded an alliance with the Chalcidians and sent auxiliary forces,
but everything came too late. Demosthenes’ three Olynthiac Speeches+ occurred
in the period of the impending catastrophe, i.e. between the spring of 349 and
the early part of 348. It is no longer possible to connect them in detail with
concrete causes and especially in this case it is difficult to decide what part
belongs to the spoken oration and what was originally political publication.
The first of the speeches generally continues the tone and suggestions of the
First Philippic. This applies also to the second which attacks the habits of making
Philip into a bogyman in order to overawe the people; he argues that what
is required is rather the strengthening of their inner attitude. Philip’s power is
shown to be a structure erected on falsehood and deceit; this moral fervour
is nourished by the ancient Greek conviction that hybris cannot escape its
‘dike’. The Third Olynthiac goes particularly far; though taking the existing laws

' Festschr. f. Th. Monmsen. Marburg 1893. Otherwise JAEGER, Dem. (v. inf.) 121, but it
remains difficult to attribute the mention of Olynthus to a revision. Edition: u. E. PAOLI
Milan 1939.
7 F. W. LENZ, De Dem. HU. ovr. oratione. Diss. Berl. 1919. FOCKE (v. inf.), 12. JAEGER
Dem. (v. inf-), 234, 24 is dubious about its authenticity.
3 This strong settlement of the fourth century was revealed by American excavations: D. M
ROBINSON, Die Antike. 11, 1935, 274, and RE 18, 1939, 325. i
+ p. TREVES, ‘Le Olintiache di D.’. Nuova Riv. Stor. 22, 1938, 1. On the question “Speech
or pamphlet?’ JAEGER, Dem. (v. inf.), 237, 46. H. ERBSE, ‘Zu den Olynthischen Reden des
Dem.’. Rhein. Mus. 99, 1956, 364.
602
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
into consideration, it moots the subject of utilizing the theoric fund for muni-
tions. What a crimen laesae maiestatis - Demades called the theoric fund the glue
of democracy (Plut. Plat. Quaest. 1011 b) = any attempt on these moneys was
considered is demonstrated by the reaction to a motion of Apollodorus, whom
we met earlier in connection with several private law-suits (Ps.-Dem. Against
Neaera 3-5).
The speech Against Midias’ also falls in the period of the battle of Olynthus.
Midias, one of the wealthiest Athenians, had long pursued Demosthenes with
his enmity until, at a festival of Dionysus, this unpredictable bully attacked the
orator openly. Demosthenes reacted immediately with a provisional complaint
(zpoBodAx), but probably did not proceed to sue him, powerful as he was. Since
Midias belonged to Eubulus’ party which Demosthenes was opposing more and
more vigorously with his policy of action, this affair, which originally was
entirely a private matter, now also acquired political colouring.
Philip's successes had created a situation in which only a united Greece could
have any chance of effective action. But this was still a very remote goal, and
so Demosthenes joined the Athenian embassy which went to Pella in 346 for
negotiations with Philip. In the same year the peace of Philocrates was con-
cluded which forced the Athenians to abandon the Phocians and. permitted
Philip to find a firm footing in central Greece. It was evident that this situation
would produce a host of new conflicts, but also that at the time Athens had no
prospect of success and so Demosthenes advocated the preservation of peace in
his speech On the Peace. It was the time in which Isocrates in his Philip called on
the Macedonian to be the leader of Greece.
In the following years of a hollow truce Demosthenes succeeded in gaining
control of Athenian politics in an increasing degree. In foreign affairs it was
necessary to win allies in order to form the most united possible Greek front
against Philip; at home the pro-Macedonian party had to be suppressed. The
Second Philippic? of the year 344 warns against Philip, deals with Argos and
Messene, which complain about Athens’s pro-Spartan policy, and in its final
section sharply attacks Aeschines. Demosthenes had had the latter indicted for
bribery and fraud soon after the return of the embassy of 346. But Timarchus
was an unfortunate choice as the formal accuser and Aeschines managed to make
him impossible with a morals action of which his speech has been preserved.
Not until 343 did matters come to a head between Aeschines and Demosthenes,
who this time had to conduct his own prosecution. The two speeches On
the Fraudulent Embassy (Ilepi ts wapampeoBetas) have been preserved, the
one by Demosthenes in a revised form meant for publication; consequently
Aeschines’ defence does not correspond in individual points with the accusation
preserved. Aeschines was acquitted with a slight majority. The party of the

H, ERBSE, ‘Uber die Midiana des D.’. Herm. 84, 1956, 135, tries to refute the opinion
that D. neither delivered this speech nor published it himself. He conjectures the late spring
of 349 as the time of the trial. HUMBERT-GERNET retain in their ed. the opinion defended
by him, and F. ZUCKER, Gnom. 32, 1960, 608, agrees with them.
2 G. M. CALHOUN, ‘D.’s Second Philippic’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 64, 1933, 1.
603
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

pro-Macedonians lost ground, but Hyperides managed to have Philocrates

sentenced to death, whereupon he fled abroad.
To this period (342) belongs the speech On Halonnesus,which defends Athens’
title to the little island south of Lemnos. In antiquity, however, some authors
such as Libanius in his Hypotheses thought that Hegesippus of Sunium rather
than Demosthenes was the writer.
When in 342 Philip had firmly incorporated Thrace in his realm and the
direction of his thrust to the sea approaches began again to become distinct,
tension, and with it Demosthenes’ activity, rose to its highest pitch. Three
speeches of the year 341 bear this out. In the one On the Affairs in the Chersonese
(lepi réiv ev Xeppovijow)' he adopts a protective attitude against Philip’s
complaints about Diopithes, the mercenary commander whose operations from
this territory had become an annoyance to Philip. Demosthenes reached the
climax in his career as a political orator with the Third Philippic. It blazes with
the passion which Eratosthenes compares with the emotion of one possessed by
Bacchus (Plut. Dem. 9). He stresses that the need of the moment is to speed up
the manufacture of munitions and to work towards the union of all Greeks
against Philip; nothing else counts more than this. The speech is preserved both
in a shorter and a longer form. It is difficult to determine whether Demosthenes
wrote them both or the second has been interpolated.* The authenticity of the
Fourth Philippic used to be disputed, but Alfred K6rte restored it to Demosthenes.3
The speech strongly stresses that attempts were being made to reach agreement
in domestic politics; in public opposition to Isocrates, Demosthenes (32-34)
underlines the hope of collaboration with Persia more strongly than elsewhere.
These years were the climax of Demosthenes’ career. Philip’s attacks on
Perinthus and Byzantium were unsuccessful, but under the impression of this
danger the greater part of the Greek states united in one league under Athens’s
leadership. Thebes, which still held aloof, did not join until directly before the
decision. At home the new law of the symmories demonstrated an increased
readiness to sacrifice self-interest. Twice, in the years 340 and 339, the people,
who now recognized Demosthenes as their political leader, honoured him with
a golden wreath.
In the Corpus Demosthenicum a letter of Philip of the year 340 has been
preserved (12)4 in which he complains of Athens’ help for Perinthus and
Byzantium. The commentary on Demosthenes by Didymus (no. 241 P.) has
proved that a section of Book 7 of the Philippics of Anaximenes of Lampsacus
is Demosthenes’ address in reply (11) to this letter.
Since 340 Athens had again been in open warfare with Philip. Battles in the
north of his realm caused a delay of the decision, which fell eventually in the
year 338 at Chacronea. It meant the end of Greek freedom, but at the same time

* A. MORPURGO, Orazione per gli affari di Chersoneso. Con introd. e comm. Florence 1956.
* P. TREVES, ‘La Composition de la 3° Philippique’. Mélange Radet 1940, 354.
3 “Zu Didymos’ D.-Commentar’. Rhein. Mus. 60, 1905, 388. Recent discussion Im GyD
ADAMS, ‘Speeches VIII and X of the Dem. Corpus’. Class. Phil. 33, 1938, 129. ia
4 Bibl. in BENGTSON (v. sup.), 291. i" ;
604
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

the beginning of a new era, for the Philip who in the very year of Chaeronea
united the Greek states except Sparta under one “general peace’ and in one
alliance under his leadership, proved himself to be one of the few men in history
who can think of peace after winning a war.
The Athenians did not make Demosthenes suffer for the defeat; he was
commissioned to deliver the funeral oration for the fallen. The preserved
Epitaphios is quite remote both in style and emotion from the assembly speeches,
but the difference of the situation and the genre should be borne in mind. Those
who defend its authenticity are probably right.! Years later Demosthenes
delivered the real and lofty Epitaphios to Athens’ fight for freedom under
unusual conditions. In 336 Ctesiphon moved his solemn crowning in the theatre
during the Great Dionysia for his merits in improving the walls and for his
sacrifices of personal property in the service of the state. Aeschines objected with
a complaint of illegality, but the trial was postponed and the case was not tried
until 330. Aeschines’ formal objection merely offered a pretext to fight once
more, in a way typically Greek and typically Athenian, the great battle of the
years before Chaeronea whose outcome had long ago been decided by history,
this time on the field of rhetoric. We possess both speeches, Aeschines’ Against
Ctesiphon and Demosthenes’ On the Crown (Ilepi oreddvov) in which he
elaborated his defence of Ctesiphon into a tremendous retrospect of the ends
aimed at and a justification of the course taken at the time. Demosthenes was
victorious, Aeschines did not even obtain a fifth of the votes and had to leave
Athens.
It is not difficult to imagine that Demosthenes shared the hope of Athens
which blazed up at Philip’s death (336), but the speech On the Treaties with
Alexander (17, Uepi rv mpds >AAeEavdpov cvv6yxGv) handed down under his
name, which opposes the Macedonians, is not his.
A dark shadow fell over his old age when he became involved in the Harpalus
affair. This faithless treasurer had deposited in Athens some money with which
he had defected from Alexander and had passed part of it on to Athenian
politicians. Demosthenes was one of them; we do not know the motives which
made him accept the money. The court imposed (324) a fine of fifty talents on
him; he avoided imprisonment for debt by fleeing to Troezen. When Athens
rose together with Argos and Corinth at the death of Alexander, he returned
home in triumph. But the rebels’ dream of freedom soon ended with the defeat
of the fleet at Amorgos and of the army at Crannon. Again Demosthenes had
to flee; in the late autumn of 322 he committed suicide with poison on the
island of Calauria when he saw himself surrounded by Antipater’s myrmi-
dons. 7
Demosthenes’ work was surveyed in connection with his life and political

1 J. syKUTRIS, ‘Der dem. Epitaphios’. Herm. 63, 1928, 241, and M. POHLENZ, ‘Zu den
att. Reden auf die Gefallenen’. Symb. Osl. 26, 1948, 46. Against the authenticity P. TREVES,
‘Apocrifi demosthenici’. Athenaeum 14, 1936, 153 and 233. Other bibl. in JAEGER, Dem,
(v. inf.), 253, 24, who doubts the authenticity. The speech On the Crown: P. TREVES, Milan
1933 (with comm.).
605
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

activity. It has become clear that the collection of sixty-one speeches is inter-
spersed with an abundance of spurious material. Among the latter is also the
Eroticus (61), a letter which praises a beautiful boy. Another six letters have been
preserved, all of which, except the fifth, have his exile as a background.! For
the second and the third the question of authenticity may be considered, but is
by no means settled. On the other hand many of the fifty-six prefaces to political
speeches are genuine, for several of them reappear in the surviving speeches. It
may be supposed that a collection of Demosthenes’ works was later enriched
with imitations.
The changes to which the image of Demosthenes was subject in the course of
time form in themselves a chapter of history.? Cardinal Bessarion published in
1470 the First Olynthiac Speech in Latin in order to incite enthusiasm for the
struggle against the Turks; Friedrich Jacob translated Demosthenes in the days
of Napoleon; time and again attempts were made to kindle new flames with
the glow of his ardour. The latest member in this series is Clemenceau’s Démos-
thene3 of the period after the first world war. During the same war appeared
Engelbert Drerup’s book Aus einem alten Advokatenrepublik+ which represents an
extreme opposite viewpoint. Since our picture of Greek history has tremend-
ously changed through Droysen’s discovery of the Hellenistic era, judgment
of Demosthenes’ political activity has been made from a different aspect. The
Greeks’ last struggle for freedom became a period without interest compared
with the world-wide influence which Alexander's deeds opened up for the
Hellenes, and Demosthenes withdrew in the shadows of those who welcomed
Philip as the bringer of a new development. He necessarily fared badly by such
a judgment passed ex eventu and he had to pay heavily for the classical halo
which he still wears in Arnold Schafer’s great work. At present the pendulum
may have stopped swinging between the two extremes and the time may be
ripe for a formulation of questions which result from another point of view.
We have some comprehension of the interplay of the forces which prepared for
the end of the polis of the classical era and which blazed a trail for new develop-
ments and we can evaluate what was lost and what gained. As for Demosthenes,
our questions are whether his life and struggles are of a truly tragic character or
were a mere shadow-play. Our answer will depend on two further questions:
did the issues for which he fought belong to the rank of great historical reality
or were they illusions? did he fight his battle for these issues for the sake of a
conviction or did he use legal quibbles for personal renown and gain? These two
questions answer themselves in the asking. And this means that Demosthenes,
whose task it was to bear witness to the proud tradition of his polis in the very
hour of its downfall, becomes a great tragic figure in the history of the Greek
people.

' H. SACHSENWEGER, De D. Epistulis. Diss. Leipz. 1935. A section from Ep. 3 ina London
papyrus of the rst c. B.c. (no. 239 P.).
2B. DRERUP, D. im Urteil des Altertums.Wirzb. 1923. For more recent times: G. D. ADAMS,
D. and his influence. Lond. 1927.
3 Paris 1924. + Paderborn 1916.
606
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
The art of his rhetoric endures independent of the appreciation of his political
activity. Especially in Britain, but in other European countries as well, he has
long been esteemed and utilized as the unrivalled teacher of political eloquence.
Earlier, in connection with Isocrates, we spoke of the dangers of rhetoric for
Greek intellect and Greek art. Therefore it should be emphasized all the more
strongly that in Demosthenes true passion and power of conviction pervade the
perfected form to such an extent that his strongest speeches are inspired with real
life. In the beginning of his rhetorical career Demosthenes still shows here and
there that he is influenced by the example of the Isocratic period with its
calculated balance and cool smoothness, but he soon acquires a personal style
which draws even in the most elaborate sentence constructions on the actuality
of situations and permeates them with the temperament of the speaker. The
uniformity of Isocratic speech is contrasted in Demosthenes by an incomparably
greater richness of variety,' just as the broad sweep of the political speeches is in
clear contrast with the simpler period construction of the forensic speeches. He
is moderate in the use of figures of speech and sound; he avoids hiatus, though
not with the same strictness as Isocrates, and in his choice of words he exerts
the same discipline, although occasionally he does not shrink from using a
strong expression. Already in antiquity it was noticed that the effect of Demos-
thenes’ speeches depended largely on their rhythm. It is difficult to ascertain the
laws of this rhythmical construction. Blass discovered one important detail
when he observed that Demosthenes avoids the sequence of more than two
short syllables. The effect of Demosthenes’ style rests largely on the moderate
utilization, controlled by a very subtle sense of rhythm, of the freedom of word-
order which gave to writers of Greek such an abundance of possibilities to
create an effect. Like other masters of prose, Demosthenes devoted careful
attention to the rhythmical structure of his sentence conclusions. The study of
this technique of clause construction has not yet achieved any definite results
and has lately stagnated somewhat.?
We single out two from among the ancient critics of Demosthenes’ style: the
syncrisis of the orator with Thucydides in the historian’s biography (56 f.)
transmitted under the name of Marcellinus, which stresses Demosthenes’
vigorous use of metaphor avoided by Thucydides. Recently Friedrich Zucker*
has shown that it is very probable that this criticism comes from the works by
Caecilius of Calacte epi rod yapaxrhpos Tv SéKa pntopwv. The confrontation
1 Dionysius, Dem. 43-52 already observed the essential points.
2 L. DISSEN laid the foundation for the analysis of D.’s period structure in the introduction
to his edition of On the Crown (1837). F. BLASS, Att. Beredsamkeit, 2nd ed. Leipz. 1893, vol.
3/1, is still of importance. Rhythmical analyses in £. NORDEN’S Die antike Kunstprosa 2,
Leipz. 1898, 911. On the avoidance of accumulated short syllables: c. D. ADAMS, ‘D.’s
avoidance of breves’. Class. Phil. 12, 1917, 271.
3 The theory defended by NoRDEN (v. sup.), 914 ff. that the final rhythm is based prin-
cipally on the cretic is opposed by A. w. DE Groot, A Handbook of Antique Prose-rhythm.
Groningen 1918, who finds a preference for dactyl and choriamb.
4 *Aymboroinros. Eine semasiologische Untersuchung aus der antiken Rhetorik und Ethik
(Sitzb. Deutsche Akad. KI. f. Spr., Lit. u. Kunst 1952/4 1953), with excellent interpretation
of the two passages referred to here.
607
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

of Hyperides and Demosthenes by the author of the treatise On the Sublime

(34) is particularly impressive: in spite of all his splendid qualities, in spite of his
wit and elegance, Hyperides is separated by an abyss from the passionate great-
ness of Demosthenes.
Aeschines, who as the henchman of Eubulus and the Macedonian king was
Demosthenes’ most violent opponent, was borne into history in the latter’s wake;
otherwise this politician and orator would not have caused much of a stir.
About Aeschines we have the article in Suidas and two biographies (one signed
by a certain Apollonius), apart from the sections in the Ps.-Plutarch’s Orators
and Philostratus’ Lives of the Sophists. At the time of the controversial embassy
he was 44 years old (1. 49), which puts the year of his birth in 389. In contrast to
Demosthenes he was of humble origin, his parents being the schoolmaster
Atrometus and Glaucothea, who, as often happened at that time, earned some
money in the obscure mystery cults. She was helped by Aeschines when he was
a boy, and Demosthenes flung this fact in his face in an exceedingly malicious
way in a passage from De Corona (259), which is of some importance for the
history of religion. When he grew up, Aeschines tried the stage, but got no
further than being a poor tritagonist, if we are to believe Demosthenes (De Cor.
265, 267). We find him in the subordinate civil service position of tzoypappa-
revs, but he succeeded at last in gaining the confidence of Eubulus, the head of
the peace party. We know little else about his entry into politics. It is peculiar
that we possess three speeches of his which are of a routine nature, but are
unable to find any further indications of his oratorical activity. One speech
which he is supposed to have held in Delos on behalf of Athens, was already
correctly denied to be his in antiquity, since he never represented his city there
as we know from Hyperides (fr. 1 Burtt).
~ Aeschines’ part in the negotiations of the Delphic Amphictyony in the year
339 is particularly dubious; these negotiations led to the Sacred War against the
Locrians of Amphissa, and Aeschines, Athens’ envoy at the time, contributed
to this war and with it to Philip’s intervention, whatever his motives may have
been.! We already discussed the three speeches preserved and the relevant
circumstances in connection with Demosthenes. Aeschines spoke Against
Timarchus in order to convict the accuser in the embassy trial of immorality and
to have him deprived of his citizen’s rights; in the speech On the Fraudulent
Embassy he successfully defended himself against Demosthenes, but suffered a
decisive defeat at his hands in 330 in the case of the crown with his speech
Against Ctesiphon. When he had to leave Athens he went to Asia Minor and is
supposed to have taught rhetoric in Rhodes. According to the information in
the Life by Apollonius, which is completely unreliable, he died in 314.
Twelve Letters preserved under his name are spurious; partly they presuppose,
quite unhistorically, his formal exile and represent him requesting his recall.
The Tenth Letter merits literary interest, since it is in effect a Milesian tale with
a shameless story of seduction.?
' For this epoch: F. rR. wUst, Philipp IT v. Maked. 1. Griechenland in den Jahren von 346—
338. Munich 1938, 146. * Cf. A. LESKY, Aristainetos. Ziirich 1951, 40.
608
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Dinarchus was another opponent of Demosthenes to be mentioned, although
since he was born in Corinth in 360 a great part of his activity belongs to a
later epoch. In spite of his mediocrity, Dionysius of Halicarnassus devoted a
treatise to him (Hepi Aewdpyov) and this also provided the material for the
Life in Ps.-Plutarch. He came to Athens in 342, studied under Theophrastus and
became a confidential friend of Demetrius of Phalerum. From 336 onward he
wrote speeches and acquired some importance when the great orators had
retired from the stage of Athenian life. But when in 307 the Macedonian-
supported régime of his patron, Demetrius of Phalerum, had to give way to
Demetrius Poliorcetes, he extricated himself from the threatening situation and
fled to Chalcis in Euboea. He was not allowed to return until 292, probably
through Theophrastus’ intercession. At an advanced age he appeared for the
first time legally in a trial against his one-time friend Proxenus' whom he
indicted in connection with an affair of property. How long he lived after that
is unknown.
The number of his speeches according to the tradition varies considerably, but
most figures seem to be unbelievably high. Dionysius reports sixty genuine and
twenty-seven spurious ones. Some more titles turn up in other authors. We
possess six of the speeches mentioned by Dionysius and it well shows how con-
fused the tradition of the orators is when we observe that three of these are in the
Corpus Demosthenicum (39. 40. 58) and that only the first of them is by
Demosthenes. Three of Dinarchus’ speeches in the Harpalus trials survive. The
first of these was read by an unknown speaker as the second speech for the
prosecution (deuterology) Against Demosthenes. Dionysius reports (1) the doubts
which Polyhistor Demetrius Magnes had of its authenticity. This critic of style
compared Dinarchus with Hyperides in charm and found that the speech
Against Demosthenes deviated too strongly in style from the others. The first
opinion is obviously invalid; and when we compare it with the other preserved
speeches, we observe the same haphazard composition, the same predominance
of abuse over argumentation and the same dependence of a degenerating
rhetoric on great models, so that we can ignore Demetrius’ doubts. The second
speech is Against Aristogiton, that dubious demagogue who is the subject of two
spurious speeches in the Corpus Demosthenicum (25 f.). He, too, had accepted
money from Harpalus. In the third speech Against Philocles, this representative
of the anti-Macedonian party, who had served Athens in high positions, 1s
charged with the same offence. The two last-mentioned speeches are mutilated
in the final sections.
Demosthenes, however, also had a few followers among the orators of his
time. The most interesting profile among them is that of the Athenian Hyperides.
He was born in 390, studied under Isocrates and heard Plato, if we may believe
the biography by Ps.-Plutarch. In his private life he was fond of the good things
of the earth, and although there is a great deal of fiction in the mockery
which comedy levelled at his enjoyment of the pleasures of the table and of
1 Bibl. on the question of whether this was possible for the metic in Ferckel (v. inf. on
Lysias), 76.
609
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

hetaerae,! there must have been some reason for these inventions. One anecdote
became celebrated. When he delivered his speech for the defence of Phryne —
Messala Corvinus translated it into Latin — he impressed the jurors by baring the
beauty’s bosom. This same Hyperides faithfully and energetically stuck to the
line of anti-Macedonian policy up to his terrible end. In 343 he obtained the
conviction of Philocrates who gave his name to the peace of 346 and soon after-
wards successfully represented Athenian interests in Delos. Like Demosthenes
he recruited allies for Athens and served his city in naval expeditions as a
trierarch, as, for instance, at Byzantium in 340. After Chaeronea he was active
as a distinguished legal orator, appearing in 324 as accuser against his old party
friend Demosthenes. But he was reconciled with him, and when Alexander died
he was at his side in the revolt of which he was one of the leaders together with
the strategos Leosthenes. And like Demosthenes he fled after the disaster of 322,
under the threat of execution; in the same year he was captured in Aegina and
cruelly executed at the order of Antipater.
Hyperides is one of the authors of whom we have acquired a thorough
knowledge only through the papyri and so scholarship has done more for him
in the last few decades than for the other authors. Finds in the second half of the
last century produced extensive remains of six speeches. The best preserved are
the speech Against Athenogenes? in a private suit about a contract of sale, and For
Euxenippus, charged with incorrect division of land at Oropus. A vision in the
Amphiareum played an interesting part in the affair. The speech Against Demos-
thenes3 in the Harpalus trial has come to us in a very fragmentary condition.
The one For Lycophron featured in a law-suit in which the orator Lycurgus, as
one of the accusers, attempted to use an efoayyeXla in order to turn a charge
of adultery with a background of property rights into a matter of state. The
speech Against Philippides attacks an advocate of pro-Macedonian measures.
After the bitter end of the rebellion Hyperides spoke the Epitaphios+ over the
fallen in the Lamian War. The extensive remains show that Hyperides had
reached the limits of his linguistic ability along his way to the grand style. He
was not gifted with the eruptive violence of Demosthenes’ oratory which broke
forth from a profound emotion. The composer of the work On the Sublime (34)
gave an excellent characterization of him when he stressed the richness of his
tones and called him a sound jack-of-all-trades who performed skilfully in all
the aspects of his art without being first in a single one. It was also rightly
observed that next to Demosthenes he owed much to the naturalness and charm
of Lysias. In his speech we discern the linguistic laxity by which the transition
of Attic to Koine, the Hellenistic common speech, begins to be marked out.s
™ Ath. 8, 341 e. 13, 590 c. Cf. T. B. L. WEBSTER, Studies in Later Gr. Com. Manchester
1953, 40.
* Comm. ed. of this and the following speech: y. DE FALCO, Naples 1947.
* G. COLIN, Le Discours d’H. contre Dém. sur Vargent d’Harpale. Paris 1934.
4 G. COLIN, ‘L’Oraison funcbre d’H.’ Rev. Et. Gr. $I, 1938, 209. 305. H. HESS. Textkr. u.
erkl. Beitrdge zum Epitaphios des H. Leipz. 1938 (with bibl. on Gr. funeral orations).
* D. GROMSKA, De Sermone Hyperidis. Studia Leopolitana 3, 1927. U. POHLE, Die Sprache
des Redners H. in ihren Beziehungen zur Koine. Leipz. 1928.
610
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Lycurgus, of the venerable family of the Eteobutadidae, the only Attic

orator from the ranks of the nobility, was the soul of the restoration policy
after 338. Born in 390, he entered the ranks of the anti-Macedonian patriots in
the forties and administered Athenian finances, partly himself, partly through
his friends, in an exemplary way in the years 338-327. But this man, whose
consistent strictness against himself and others had almost un-Athenian traits,
exerted an influence beyond the limits of public financial administration. His
family was connected with high priesthoods, such as that of Poseidon in the
Erechtheum, and that of Athena Polias, and he himself devoted particular care
to the public cult of Dionysus. It was as a service to the god that Lycurgus
restored the theatre of Dionysus in stone; he had the statues of the three great
tragedians placed there and attempted to stem the degeneration of the tradition
by means of a state copy of the tragic texts (v. p. 267). He died not long after
his term of office, probably in 324.
In antiquity fifteen of his speeches-were extant, all forensic and all for the
prosecution, except two, which he delivered for his own defence in trials on
matters of audit. We have only his speech Against Leocrates, an Athenian who
had fled from the city in a panic in 338 and wanted to settle there again in 331.
His strict prosecutor charged him with high treason, basing himself on the
general conception of civic duty rather than on specific laws. Numerous poetic
quotations, among which is a speech from Euripides’ Erechtheus, demonstrate
the speaker’s yearning for the great past.
The one specimen which we have bears out Dionysius’ opinion (De imit. 5. 3)
that his strength lay in powerful emphasis and unreserved expression of the
truth, not in wit and charm. The smoothness of the period of Isocrates, his
teacher according to the tradition, is as alien to him as the sweeping solemnity
of Demosthenes’ mighty sentence-constructions.
The ten Attic orators collected in the canon represent a selection from a
considerably larger number. We have various names, but they remain almost
completely shadowy to us. In connection with Demosthenes we already met
Hegesippus as the probable composer of the speech On Halonnesus, and Aristo-
giton who has little to charm us; Stratocles can be added as Demosthenes’ chief
prosecutor in the Harpalus case. Occasionally talent remains a family property
as with the tragedians. The orator Glaucippus was a son of Hyperides’, and
Demochares, Demosthenes’ nephew, attempted to revive his uncle’s patriotic
fervour in a time when it must have sounded hollow. He took diligent care of
his relative’s memory; thus he erected a statue for him in the market place in
280. In the year 306 he supported in a speech for Sophocles the latter's motion
that the teaching activities of the undemocratic philosophers should be restricted.
He also wrote contemporary history.
We are best informed about Demades of the deme Paeana. With wit and
adaptability he worked his way up from humble conditions — he is supposed to
have even been an oarsman — to a leading position in Athenian politics. He was
also involved in the Harpalus affair and at this time he had to accept many a set-
back, but in 322, after the defeat of the rebels, he took over the helm, together
61!
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

with Phocion, and put the motion which led to the conviction and death of
Demosthenes and Hyperides. Then his good fortune left him. When he went to
Macedon with his son in 319 to work for the withdrawal of the Macedonian
garrison from Munychia, Craterus accused him of double-dealing and had him
executed.
As an orator Demades had a natural talent and was much esteemed for his
ready wit. Choice examples have been preserved of the “‘Demadea’.! According
to Cicero (Brut. 36; cf. Quint. 12. 10, 49) no speeches were extant. This is one of
the arguments against the authenticity of the excerpts from a speech On the
Twelve Years (Vrép rhs SwSexaerias) preserved in a Palatinus, which con-
tains a defence of Demades’ policy after Chaeronea.

TIsocrates :
There is no evidence that the Alexandrians occupied themselves with Iso-
crates, but he meant a great deal to the Atticists, and the considerable number of
papyri (nos. 970-1005 P.) shows that he was diligently read in imperial times.
Forgeries occurred, too; out of sixty speeches in circulation, Caecilius of
Calacte marked twenty-eight, Dionysius of Halicarnassus only twenty-five as
genuine (Ps.-Plut. Dec. Or. Vitae 838 d). In the manuscript tradition we have,
besides a fairly good stemma represented by the valuable Urbinas 111 (9th/roth
c.), the vulgate within which the Laurentianus 87. 14 (13th c.) is again separated
from the group of the remaining manuscripts.
Editions: G. E. BENSELER — F. BLASS, 2 vols. Leipz. 1878/9; repr. of the ed.
Leipz. 1887-98 (3 parts in 4 vols.) in prep. by Olms/Hildesheim, is still the
standard ed. £. DRERUP (I. only) Leipz. 1906 with elaborate details on the
tradition. G. MATHIEU-E. BREMOND, Coll. des Un. de Fr. (bilingual) 1, 2nd ed.
1956. 2, 3rd ed. 1956. 3, 2nd ed. 1950. Vol. 4 with Panath. has not yet appeared.
The ed. of the Loeb Class. Libr. (bilingual) in 3 vols. (1954, 1956, 1945) by
G. B. NORLIN and V. HOOK. R. FLACELIERE, Isocrate. Cing discours (Hel. Bus. Contre
les soph. Sur lattelage. Contre Callim.) Ed. introd. et comm. Paris 1961. — Scholia
Graeca in Aeschinem et Is. Ed. W. Dindorf Oxf. 1852. — s. pREUSS, Index Iso-
crateus. Leipz. 1904. On all the orators the extensive work by F. Brass is still
indispensable, Die Attische Beredsamkeit. 3 vols. 2nd ed. Leipz. 1887-98 (repr. in
prep. by Olms/Hildesheim). r. c. jess, The Attic Orators from Antiphon to Isaeus.
1875; repr. in 2 vols. New York 1962. On history and theory of rhetoric
R. VOLKMANN, Die Rhetorik der Griechen und Romer. 2nd ed. Leipz. 1885 (repr. in
prep. by Olms/Hildesheim) has not yet been improved upon. Good, brief
survey by w. RHYS ROBERTS, Greek Rhetoric and Literary Criticism. New York
1928. W. KROLL, Rhetorik RE S 7, 1940, 1039. D. L. CLARK, Rhetoric in Greco-
Roman Education. New York 1957. M. DELAUNOTS, Le Plan rhétorique dans I’élo-
quence grecque d’Homére a Démosthéne. Acad. royale de Belgique. Cl. de lettres.
Mémoires. Sér. 2, 12, 2. 1959. With a wide coverage H. LANSBERG, Handbuch der
' Ps.-Demetr., De eloc. 282 ff. Also H. DIELS, Rhein. Mus. 29, 1874, 107.
612
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

literarischen Rhetorik. Eine Grundlegung der Literaturwissenschaft. Mit Registerband.

Munich 1960. For terminology we still largely depend on J. CHR. G. ERNESTI,
Lexicon Rhetoricum. Leipz. 1795. repr. Olms/Hildesheim 1962. — Studies:
G. MATHIEU, Les Idées politiques d’Isocrate. Paris 1925. G. WALBERER, Isokrates u.
Alkidamas. Diss. Hamb. 1938. G. SCHMITZ-KAHLMANN, Das Beispiel der Ge-
schichte im pol. Denken des I. Phil. Suppl. vol. 31/4. 1939. H. WERSD GREER, Die
pirooodia des I. im Spiegel seiner Terminologie. Leipz. 1940. s. WILCOX,
‘Criticism of I. and his ¢uAdocodia’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 74, 1943, 113; ‘I.’s
fellow-rhetoricians’. Am. Journ. Phil. 66, 1945, 171. H. L. HUDSON-WILLIAMS,
‘Thuc., I. and the rhetorical method of composition’. Class. Quart. 42, 1948, 76;
‘I. and recitations’. Ibid. 43, 1949, 65. W. STEIDLE, ‘Redekunst und Bildung bei
I.” Herm, 80, 1952, 257. EINO MIKKOLA, Isokrates. Helsinki 1954 with ext. bibl.
F. ZUCKER, I.’ Panathen. Berl. 1954. M. A. LEVI, Isocrate. Milan 1959 (with special
attention to the political ideas). E. BUCHNER, v. p. 585, n. 2. — In L. RADER-
MACHER’S Artium scriptores (v. p. 584, n. 1), 163, the section Isocratis doctrina ex
ipsius orationibus petita with index of subjects is very useful.

Lysias:
Our tradition of speeches 3-31 is based on a Heidelberg manuscript damaged
in several places, the Palatinus 88 of the 12th c. Among the manuscripts which
depend on Pal. 88 the Laur. plut. 57, 4 is noteworthy because of a number of
remarkable emendations which anticipated later philological work. Only for
the first two speeches there is an additional second stemma, best represented for
1 in the Marcianus 422 (15th c.) and for 2 in the Parisinus (Coislinianus 249;
11th c.). Dionysius preserved the fragments of speeches 32-34 in his Lysias. The
papyri (nos. 1012-1016) produced a series of new fragments, e.g. from the
above-mentioned speech Against Hippotherses and Against Theozotides (no. 1016
P., a papyrus of the 3rd c. B.c.; cf. A. WILHELM, Wien. Stud. 52, 1934, 52). -
Editions: Th. Thalheim, 2nd ed. Leipz. 1913. K. HUDE, Oxf. (1912) 1952.
L. GERNET—M. BIZOS, 2 vols. Coll. des Univ. de Fr. 1924/26, 3rd ed. rev. and corr.
Paris 1955 (bilingual). £. s. sHuCKBURGH, L. orationes XVI with analysis, notes,
appendix & indices. Lond. 1939. U. ALBINI, Testo crit. introd. trad. e note, Florence
1955. M. HOMBERT, Lysias, Choix de discours. 3rd ed. Brussels 1960. 1. C. SABBA-
DINI, Lysias. Contro Alcibiade. Con introd. e note. Florence 1958. M. GIGANTE,
Lysias. Contro Epicrate. Naples 1960. — Index: D. H. HOLMES, Bonn 1895, repr.
Amsterdam (Servio) 1962. — Studies: On forensic speeches generally the basic
work is still J. #. Lrpsrus, Das attische Recht und Rechtverfahren. 1, Leipz. 1905. 2,
1908. 3, 1915. Also: R. J. BONNER and G. SMITH, The Administration of Justice from
Homer to Aristotle 1. Chicago 1930. F. LAMMLI, Das att. Prozessverfahren in seiner
Wirkung auf die Gerichtsrede. Paderborn 1938. L. GERNET, Droit et société dans la
Gréce ancienne. Paris 1955 (Transactions of the period 1909-53). On Lysias: F.
FERCKEL, Lysias und Athen. Wiirzb. 1937 (very subjective with a good survey of
the appreciation of L. in recent works). w. VOEGELIN, Die Diabole bei Lysias.
Basel 1943. H. ERBSE, ‘Lysias-Interpretationen’. Festschr. Kapp. Hamb. 1958, 51.
M. GIGANTE, ‘Il discorso olimpico di L.’. Studi L. Castiglioni 1, 1960, 375,
613
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

E. HEITSCH, ‘Recht und Taktik in der 7. Rede des Lysias’. Mus. Helv. 18, 1961,
204, with valuable study on the structure of legal procedure and the logo-
graphers’ importance depending on it.

Isaeus:
The Cod. Crippsianus of the 13th c. in the Brit. Mus. is the basis of the
tradition. For the first two speeches there is in add. an Ambrosianus ofthe 13th or
14th c. Papyri: no. 968 f. P. Editions: TH. THALHEIM, Leipz. 1903. T. C. W. WYSE,
Cambr. 1904, with ext. comm. p. ROUSSEL, Coll. des Univ. de Fr. (1922) 1960
(bilingual). In the Loeb Class. Libr. 8.8. FORSTER 1957 (bilingual). U.£.PAOLI, Iseo,
Per I’ eredita di Pirro. Florence 1935 (with comm.) — Transl. with introd. and
notes: K. MUNSCHER, ‘Isaios’. Zeitschr.f.vergl. Rechtswiss. 37, 1919, 32-328.

Demosthenes :
The Alexandrians had no scholarly interest in Demosthenes or any of the
other orators, but they did have him in their library; Callimachus catalogued
him. In imperial times a more intensive study of Demosthenes was begun,
marked for us by the names of Didymus, Dionysius of Halicarnassus (v. supra
p. 596) and Caecilius of Calacte. A fairly large piece of Didymus’ collective
commentary on the Philippics is preserved in a Berlin papyrus (no. 241 P.).
The more strictly conventional Atticists, who preferred Lysias, did not prevail
and from the rst century A.D. we see Demosthenes in the undisputed position of
the greatest orator of antiquity. Papyri of the 2nd century a.D. are fairly abund-
ant (nos. 166-239 P.); a recent addition is presented in Pap. Soc. It. 14, 1957,
no. 1349 f. Tradition of a varying nature attests to diligent endeavours to
understand and linguistically interpret Demosthenes’ speeches. Apart from the
abundant scholia we only mention here Harpocration’s Lexicon of Orators (2nd
c. A.D.), a treatise by a certain Tiberius who cannot be accurately dated (Ilepi
tav rapa Anuoobéver aynudtwr. Rhet. Graec. 3. 59 Sp.) and the summaries of
contents (hypotheses) of the orator Libanius.
The conjecture that an edition of Demosthenes by Atticus, of whom we know
through the subscription to the tenth speech in manuscripts B and F, could have
been of significance for our tradition, has proved to be untenable. Our manu-
scripts are divided into three classes (BUTCHER and RENNIE distinguish four,
J. HUMBERT and L. GERNET follow them in their edition in the Coll. des Univ. de
Fr.) of which the most important representatives are in each case: Parisinus 2934
(early roth c.), Venetus Marcianus 416 (roth/11th c.) and Monacensis (Augus-
tanus) 485 (11th c.). While otherwise Parisinus was considered of particular
value, Gernet, in the introduction to his edition of the speeches in civil lawsuits,
has just proved the special quality of Monacensis for these.
Editions: Cc. FUHR andJ. syKuTRIS planned to revise the old Teubner edition
ofF.BLASS (3 vols. 1888-92). Vol. 1 (1914) and 2/r (1937) have been published.
Further: s. H. BUTCHER and w. RENNIE, 4 vols. Oxf. 1903-31. In the Coll. des
Univ. de Fr. (all bilingual): Harangues: M. CROISET, 2 vols. 1924/25 (several
reprints; latest 1955 and 1946); Plaidoyers politiques: O. NAVARRE et P. ORSINI,
tome I (speeches 22, 20, 24) 1954. J. HUMBERT and L. GERNET, tome 2 (speeches
614
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

21, 23); G. MATHIEU, tome 3 (speech 19) 1945, 2nd ed. 1956; tome 4 (speeches
18, 25, 26) 1947; and ed. 1958; Plaidoyers civils: r. GERNET, tome I (speeches 27-
38) 1954; tome 2 (speeches 39-48) 1957; tome 3 (speeches 49-56) 1959; tome 4
(speeches 57-59) with index byJ.DE FOUCAULT and Rk. WEIL 1960. The bilingual
ed. in the Loeb Class. Libr. by J. H. VINCE, A. T. MURRAY et alii comprises 7 vols.
(latest 1956). — The scholia in the and vol. of Oratores Attici by BArTER and
SAUPPE (Ziirich 1838-50) and in the Dem.-ed. of w. prINDORE, 9 vols. Oxf.
1846-51. Additional material from papyri (v. supra), firstly Didymus (no. 241
P.). — Index: s. preuss, Leipz. 1892. — General works and papers: still indis-
pensable a. SCHAEFER, D. und seine Zeit. 3 vols. 2nd ed. Leipz. 1885-87 and vol.
3/1 of the above-mentioned work (p. 597) by F. BLAss. Recent: E. POKORNY,
Studien zur griech. Gesch. im 6. und 5. Jahrzehnt des 4. Jh. Diss. Greifswald 1913.
F. FOCKE, Demosthenesstudien. Tiib. Beitr. 5, 1929, 1. P. TREVES, D. e la libertd
greca. Bari 1933. A new point ofview ofthe figure of Demosthenes in w. JAEGER,
D. Origin and Growth ofhis Policy, Berkeley 1938; also Paideia 3, 345. M. POH-
LENZ, Gestalten aus Hellas. Munich 1950, 427. F. EGERMANN, Vom attischen
Menschenbild. Munich 1952, 57. 110. Pp. CLocHE, D. et la fin de la démocratie
athénienne. Paris 1957. In two vols. written in modern Greek Nikon Kasimakos
undertakes to represent Demosthenes’ ethical tenets as outliving the political
events: 1. Dem. as humanistic value. Athens 1951. 2. Dem.’s notions ofgods, man and
state. Athens 1959. J. LUcCIONI, Dém. et le panhellénisme. 1961. — Style: ce.
RONNET, Etude sur le style de D. dans les discours politiques. Paris 1951. D. KRUGER,
Die Bildersprache des Dem. Diss. Géttingen 1959 (typescr.). B. GAYA NUNO,
Sobre un giro de la lengua de Dem. Manuales y anejos de ‘Emérita’ 17. Madrid
(examines the type verb + infinitive from which another infinitive depends).
R. CHEVALLIER, L’ Art oratoire de Dém. dans le discours sur la couronne’. Bull.
Budé 4, 1960, 200. — Subsequent influence: E. DRERUP, Dem. im Urteile des
Altertums. Wiirzburg 1923.
Aeschines :
Aeschines was diligently read in antiquity, as demonstrated by a handful of
papyri (nos. 1-12 P.). In addition to these w. H. wiLLis, ‘A new Papyrus of
Aeschines’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 86, 1955, 129, and Ox. Pap. 24, 1957, no. 2404
(in Ctesiph. 51-53). Cicero translated his speech Against Ctesiphon together with
De Corona. Didymus and others wrote commentaries on him. The criticism of
the transmission is based on the work ofm. HEYSE, Die handschr. Uberl. der Reden
des Aisch. Ohlau 1912, but French editors suggest a different classification of the
manuscripts. Editions: F. BLASS, Leipz. 1908. In the Loeb Class. Libr. bilingual by
C. D. ADAMS IQIQ. G. DE BUDE-V. MARTIN, 2 vols. Coll. des Un. de Fr. 1927/28;
latest 1952 (bilingual). m. DESSENNE, Eschine. Discours sur lambassade. Paris 1954
(polytypé). - The abundant scholia in the edition of F. SCHULTZ, Leipz. 1865. —
Index: s. PREUSS, Leipz. 1896 (reprint. 1926).
Dinarchus:
As in the case of Antiphon, Andocides and Lycurgus, the tradition is based on
a Crippsianus in the Brit. Mus. of the 13th c. and an Oxoniensis of the r4th c.,
615
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

both dependent on the same archetype. A fragment of an unknown speech of

Dinarchus’ in Antinoopolis Pap. Part 2. Lond. 1960, no. 62. — Editions: F. BLASS,
and ed. Leipz. 1888. A useful work is the Minor Attic Orators byj. 0. BURTT in the
Loeb Class. Libr. (1954) with the fragments and transl. 1. L. FORMANN, Index
Andocideus, Lycurgeus, Dinarcheus. Oxf. 1897 repr. Amsterd. 1963.

Hyperides:
Papyri: nos. 963-966 P. with the further references quoted there. — Editions:
F. G. KENYON, Oxf. 1906. CHR. JENSEN, Leipz. 1917 (with authoritative revision
of the text). G. coLin, Coll. des Univ. de Fr. Paris, 1934. J. O. BURTT (v. on
Dinarchus). — G. scu1assi, Hyp. Epitaphios. Florence 1959. — Index in Jensen.

Lycurgus:
Transmission: cf. on Dinarchus. Editions: F. BLASS, Leipz. 1899, brought up
to date by F. DURRBACH, Coll. des Univ. de Fr. 2nd ed. 1956. J. O. BURTT (v. on
Dinarchus). Comm.: C. REHDANTZ, Leipz. 1876. A. PETRIE, Cambr. 1922.
p. TREVES, Milan 1934. — Index as for Dinarchus.

Demades:
Editions: v. DE FALCO, Pavia 1932; 2nd ed. Naples 1954. J. 0. BURTT (v. on
Dinarchus). — Pp. TREVES, “‘Démade’. Athenaeum 11, 1933, 105.

Aves Hi Sty OTR @:GIRVACP

ETSY,

The strong influence exerted on historiography by rhetoric in the fourth century

led us to arrange the material so that the former follows the latter. But we must
first refer back to an author who had not yet been influenced by rhetoric and
who aimed far beyond history in his literary work. This is also why we find
Xenophon’s biography in the writings of Diogenes Laertius, who is not the only
ancient author to rank him seriously among the philosophers. There are some
further notes in Suidas which do not, however, provide any essential addition.
Xenophon was a fellow-demesman of Isocrates for he was also born in the
deme of Erchia! in 430 (the date is quite uncertain), as the son of well-to-do
parents. Like other young Athenians of wealthy family he could devote himself
whole-heartedly to horses and riding, which remained his great love; he also
found time for many other things. It is not necessarily true, as Diogenes relates,
that one day Socrates stopped the young man in the street with his stick and
made him follow him, but this singular examiner and guide attracted him in no
slight degree. He was not a pupil of Socrates like the others who never again
escaped from philosophy in their lifetime, but the impressions received at the
time were lasting ones, though they did not become forces which moulded his
life. His completely untragical nature was not suited to this.
When in gor his Boeotian friend Proxenus was recruiting for the expedition
of the young Cyrus, who wanted to thrust his brother Artaxerxes II from the
throne, he allowed himself to be persuaded to join the enterprise. The battle of
Cunaxa, which lost its significance in the middle of its victorious course through
' On his biography: £. DELEBECQUE, Essai sur la vie de Xénophon. Paris 1957.
616
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Cyrus’ death, the difficult situation of the Greek contingent and the perilous
return march through the Armenian highlands to the Black Sea, all this provided
rich food for his yearning for adventure, and gave us his liveliest work. Participa-
tion in the undertaking which was supported by Sparta, had not been favoured
by Athens, but soon Xenophon became an even stronger adherent of the ancient
enemies of his native land. Agesilaus, who took the command of the fight
against the Persians in 396, became his idol. When the king had to return to
Greece with the Spartan troops to overthrow the coalition which had risen
there against Sparta, Xenophon went with him and took part in the engagement
of Coronea of 394. There is no possible excuse, not even the pro-Spartan
sympathies of the circle from which he originated, for the fact that at that time
he took up armas against his native city. It was for this action that Athens exiled
him, and not, as stated by the ancient sources, for his participation in Cyrus’
expedition. This did not hit him hard, for the Spartans first compensated him
with the proxeny and a few years later (390 or soon afterwards) with a property
in Scillus not far from Olympia. In a portion of the Anabasis (5. 3, 7) Xenophon
described several details of the domain, to which he was obviously very attached.
The farmer in him, vying for place with the soldier, could rejoice there in the
splendid stand of timber and excellent grazing. But the huntsman also came
into his own with game of all imaginable kinds. There the Ephesian priest of
Artemis visited him to hand over his share of the booty which, after the expedi-
tion of the Ten Thousand, had been reserved for Ephesian Artemis, and been
deposited in Ephesus. With the money Xenophon erected for the goddess an
altar and a temple, a small-scale copy of the one in Ephesus, containing an image
of the goddess in cypress-wood similar to the golden one in Ephesus.
The idyll of Scillus came to an end in 370, when the Eleans fell out with the
Spartans and captured Scillus after the battle of Leuctra (371). Xenophon fled
to Corinth. Here he probably spent a large part of the last period of his life,
about which our information is scanty. Soon after Leuctra, Athens and Sparta
came closer together under the increasing pressure which Thebes was capable of
exerting. In this political atmosphere Xenophon’s banishment was repealed.
We do not know, however, how far he availed himself of the opportunity of
living once more in the city of his birth. But he made his two sons serve in the
Athenian cavalry and one of them, Gryllus, fell at Mantinea fighting bravely
(362). The widespread respect which his father’s name had already at that time
is proved by the series of encomia and epitaphs' with which his death was
solemnized. ;
In the Hellenica (6. 4, 36), Xenophon mentions the death of Alexander of
Pherae, which gives 359 as the terminus post quem for the end of his own life.
But since nowadays there is far-reaching agreement on the authenticity of the
Poroe which presupposes the conditions of 355, the limit in question is moved
on somewhat further.
Our information on the periods of this life is not uniformly scanty, how-
ever much it may vary. Contrariwise, there are great difficulties in fixing the
' Cf. the exaggerated statement of Aristotle in Diog. Laert. 2, 55.
617
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

chronology of Xenophon’s literary activity with some accuracy. Nothing indi-

cates an early start of his writing, which observation corresponds with the bio-
graphical data. One would like to imagine the years at Scillus as particularly
productive, but noteworthy indications point to an even later date for several
works! so that it is the very latest period of Xenophon’s life which may have
been his most fertile. Since a chronological arrangement would bea gamble, we
shall introduce them grouped according to contents.
Among the historical works — the expression understood in the broadest
sense — the Anabasis (K¥pov dvdBacts)* occupies a special place through the
directness with which Xenophon reports his own experiences, through the
abundance of geographical and ethnographical details and the good soldierly
spirit of the whole. An anabasis, a march into the interior, is related only in the
first six chapters of Book 1; then follows the description of the battle of Cunaxa,
while the main part of the work is occupied by the narrative of the bold march
back to the Black Sea right through hostile country and impassable mountains;
also the subsequent fortunes of the force up to the union with the Spartan troops
under Thibron are minutely described. We may condone the fact that Xeno-
phon makes the share of the Spartan Chirisophus, who was commander-in-chief,
recede into the background in favour of his own activity. A certain Sophaenetus
of Stymphalos probably wrote an Anabasis before him;3 he himself mentions
(Hell. 3. 1, 2) a work by Themistogenes of Syracuse and describes its contents in
words which agree accurately with his own Anabasis. Plutarch (De Gloria Ath.
345e) already correctly observed that this was the pseudonym under which he
first published the work.* The division of the work into seven books is of a later
date just as the summaries of previous events before the individual books.’ The
entire problem of Xenophon’s chronology becomes obvious in the question of
dating. If those who think that the Anabasis was utilized in Isocrates’ Panegyricus
are right® then we must place it before 380. But the supposed correspondence
does not enforce this conclusion and the arguments for a later dating cannot be
rejected; Xenophon speaks of the establishment in Scillus in the imperfect, and
the passage 6. 6, 9 with the retrospect to a time in which Sparta ruled over all the
Greeks, assumes at least the withdrawal of the Spartan garrison from the Theban
Cadmea (379). It should be noted that in the Hellenica (5. 4) this very incident is
1 vy. inf.; a survey in JAEGER 3, 229. The extreme opinion that X. did not write at all
before 370, advocated by E. SCHWARTZ, ‘Quellenunters. zur griech. Gesch.’. Rhein. Mus.
44, 1889, 191; now Ges. Schriften. Vol. 2, Berlin 1956, 136. cf. e.g. TH. MARSCHALL, Unters.
zur Chronologie der Werke X.’s. Diss. Munich 1928.
2 Bilingual: w. MUrt. Munich 1959 (Tusculum).
3 FRANZ SCHROMER, Der Bericht des Sophainetos iiber den Zug der Zehntausend. Diss.
Munich 1954 (typewr.).
* Otherwise, but not convincingly w. K. PRENTICE, ‘Themistogenes of Syracuse, an
error of a copyist’. Am. Journ. Phil. 68, 1947, 73; Cf. JACOBY’s commentary on F Gr Hist
108.
5 In Book 6 the summary occurs only before Ch. 3, which may indicate a different
division into books.
© A. KEPPELMACHER, ‘Zur Abfassungszeit von X.’s Anabasis’. Anz. Ak. Wien. Phil. hist.
Kl. 60, 1923, 15. Recently p. MASQUERAY in his edition p. 8.
618
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

stressed as the turning-point of the Spartan hegemony. Of course, we remain

aware of the fact that in this and every similar case, the possibility of sectional
composition complicates the matter exceedingly.
The Hellenica relating Greek history from 411 to 362 in seven books, is
Xenophon’s main historical work. A work of this nature was hardly written
down in one sitting and since indications for a syncretic growth are not lacking,
various theories have been attempted to clarify it. These have yielded at least
one fairly definite caesura in one passage. The work enters upon the events of
the year 411 with jera tadzva and in this way seeks direct connection with
Thucydides. That it does not quite fit without a flaw need not be discussed here.
To effect the attempted connection, a division of the material on annalistic
principle as well as the most impersonal possible reporting has been observed.
This is carried on up to 2, 3, 9 with the end of the Peloponnesian war, i.e. up
to the point where a complement to Thucydides had its natural conclusion. In
Book II follows the fairly continuous narrative of the rule of the Thirty, but in
the further course of the story significant deviations from the first section of the
work are evident in the negligence of chronology, unbalanced division of the
material and a stronger emphasis on the personal element. This is also notable in
the use of language; the frequent use of the otherwise rare future optative after
2. 3, 9 has been pointed out. Attempts to establish further subdivisions in the
second greater section beyond this division have proved to be without prospects.'
Xenophon continued to work on the second part for many years after Mantinea
(362), as already proved by the earlier mentioned passage on the death of the
tyrant Alexander of Pherae. We must definitely put the part directly joined to
Thucydides earlier, though it is, of course, uncertain how far it should be
separated in time.
The very material proximity of Xenophon’s work to Thucydides only places
him the more effectively in the latter’s shadow. But Burckhardt bestowed
overwhelming praise on the first two books of the Hellenica* and in more recent
time much has happened, especially through Breitenbach’s dissertation, for a
fairer appreciation of Xenophon as an historian. A dominant feature is that the
old soldier had a vivid understanding of all military matters and that he used it
in his work. It must similarly be admitted that he often manages to depict
effectively the leading personalities whom he places emphatically in the fore-
ground. Thus an attempt at a characterization of Alcibiades from two different
viewpoints (1. 4, 13) is quite noteworthy; Tacitus developed this sort of feature
with great skill in the first book of the Annals. Xenophon proves to be the
forerunner of Hellenistic historiography in the drawing of effective single scenes,
such as Alcibiades’ entry, Theramenes’ death or the return of the exiled Thebans.
He also understands the value of little highlights, as when he relates how ashamed
the Oriental Pharnabazus is of the carpets he has brought along when he is face
to face with the Spartans and sits down on the grass like them.
1 Bibl. in J. HATZFELD’S edition, p. 7. In add. Bursians Jahresber. 251, 1936, 1 (J. MESK)
and 268, 1940, I (J. PENNDORE). Cf. Fifty Years of Classical Scholarship. Oxf. 1954, 185, 69.
2 Griech. Kulturgesch. Kroner-Ausgabe 2, 472.
619
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

But an appreciation of what Xenophon can do should not lead to exaggera-

tion and to an obliteration of the distance between him and Thucydides. He
admittedly based his Hellenica on one leading idea which is prominent in the
inserted preface 5. 4, 1; the rise of Sparta to be the ruler of Greece was necessarily
followed by the decline of her power; in the spirit of ancient Greek piety, this
was related to the wrath of the gods, for the Spartans had broken the oath that
they would leave the autonomy of the Greek states unimpaired. But who would
want to compare this with Thucydides’ penetrating search for the forces which
determine the course of history? When Xenophon develops series of causes, he
always remains superficial compared with Thucydides’ aetiology. His work has
an abundance of speeches and displays skill in the characterization of the speakers
without, however, sounding the interplay of forces in their very depths like
Thucydides does. His limits also show in the finish and distribution of his
material. He does not even mention such important events as the sea-battle of
Cnidos, the second naval league, the founding of Megalopolis, while he often
lingers extensively over subordinate matters. Thus Felix Jacoby’s dictum remains
justified, who called the combination of Herodotus, Thucydides and Xenophon
the ‘unnatural triad of our literary history’!
From the material which he utilized in the Hellenica, Xenophon shaped his
Agesilaus, an encomium on the greatly venerated Spartan king, which displays
a stronger rhetorical tendency than the historical work.
Xenophon’s friendship for Sparta also inspired his stylus in the composition
of his writing on the state of the Lacedaemonians (Aaxedaipoviwy toAtteia).?
Lycurgus’ constitution and the kingship based upon it are for him the historical
foundations of Spartan power. Of course, he is aware of its decline, which is
caused by the neglect of the old ways. The portion which used to be subject to
unjustified suspicions relegates this minor work to the final period of Xenophon’s
life. It performed for us the inestimable service of attracting into the Corpus
Xenophonticum through an entirely external association, the valuable treatise of
an anonymous oligarchical sympathizer on the constitution of Athens (v. p. 452).
The writing On the Revenues (Idpor) deals with economic conditions in
Athens; its authenticity is generally no longer disputed nowadays.‘ Its sugges-
tions for a reorganization of Athenian finances are in line with the policy of
peace advocated by Eubulus. The situation of Athens which is presupposed in
the writing is the one after the unhappy result of the War of the Allies of 355;
the observation in 5. 9 on the attempt of a power to establish itselfin Delphi in
place of the Phocians points to the second half of the fifties.
It is difficult to allot a place to the Cyropaedia (K¥pou waSeéa), a work in
eight books; nor can it simply be called an historical work. Its title poses the
same problem as that of the Anabasis; this story of the elder Cyrus’ youth, rise

AREinSS Dh, MOVIE, Sie.

* Edition: F. OLLIER, Lyon-Paris 1934. MARIA R. GOMEZ=M. F. GALIANO, Madrid 1957
(bilingual). 3 AGH IMAGED, 3 DS, SA.
* A. WILHELM, ‘Unters. zu X.’s IIdpo.’. Wien. Stud. 52, 1934, 18. Comm. edition: ib 1s
THIEL, Diss. Amsterd. 1922.
620
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

and reign devotes only part of the first book to his education. The fact that this
was considered important enough to give its title to the whole attests to the
educational optimism founded by the sophists. Of course, Xenophon connects
this estimation of education with ancient aristocratic thought in an association
not otherwise rare, when in 1. 1, 6 he mentions origin and natural talent side by
side with training as the causes which made his hero rise to such greatness.
The Cyropaedia deals very lightheartedly with historical facts. Thus Cyrus,
who fell in the battle against the Massagetae,! here dies peacefully in bed; it
concentrates various qualities in him and in this way it becomes the portrayal
of the ideal king. This earliest historical novel is closely connected with the
Agesilaus and the State of the Lacedaemonians and together with these works it is
part of the intellectual preparation for monarchy, whose greatest hour was to
start with the Hellenistic age. In this work, which is richly interspersed with
moralizing speeches and a number of episodes, the story of Panthea is note-
worthy, a noble woman who remains true to her husband Abradates unto
death. It anticipates the lofty conception of love which occurs in Hellenistic
literature so abruptly side by side with lasciviousness and frivolity.
Like the State of the Lacedaemonians, this work concludes with a melancholy
glance at decline and degeneration. There is no solid foundation for suspecting
this portion.* The completion of this work is also placed in the later years of
Xenophon’s life by the mention of the surrender of the rebellious Ariobarzanes
by his son (8. 8, 4), an event of the year 360.
The influence of the Cyropaedia was greater than its literary value. It provoked
many similar writings about the life of great rulers and Cicero translated part of
the ending in his Cato Maior.
Xenophon, the soldier, country squire and hunter had a pronounced tendency
toward the didactic which is observable in writings on the most important
spheres of his life.
The Hipparchicus gives instructions for the cavalry-commander, the writing
On Riding (Ilepi immx7js)3 for the individual trooper and the treatment of his
horse. Both works, particularly the first, presuppose Athenian conditions. The
Hipparchicus alludes to the Boeotians (7. 3) as enemies and stresses (9. 4) good
relations with the Spartans. This points to the time before the battle of Mantinea
(362). On Riding is of a later date, since it refers to the Hipparchicus in the final
sentence. Admittedly the genuineness of this sentence, which does not occur in
Cod. A, is subject to doubt. The two references to the technical handbook of a
certain Simon of Athens (1. 3; 11. 6) proves the existence of more literature of
this kind, which could have been assumed even without this evidence.* The
hunting book, the Cynegeticus, belongs in this class in respect of content. Its
authenticity, however, has been the subject of lively argument. The linguistic
form, deviating as it does in many respects from Xenophon’s pleasant simplicity,
« Thus Herodotus 1, 214 who also knows of other variations.
2 CE pacz0.n. 3. .
3 Comm. edition: E. DELEBECQUE, Paris 1950, with bibl. on Greek horsemanship.
+ A piece from this in Delebecque: v. sup.
x 621
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

presents a considerable obstacle," while its defenders would like to consider it a

youthful work. A special position is occupied by the preface, which was at any
rate inserted substantially later. The aim is to prove that hunting is an outstanding
educational aid; this is in the best Xenophontic spirit, but certainly corresponded
with general opinions.
For the sake of the practical didactic contents we here present a work which
is usually mentioned together with the philosophical writings, since Socrates
appears in it as taking part in the conversation. In the Oeconomicus, however, he
is not the main figure, since it depicts an interview with Ischomachus in which
he is chiefly the reporter. Ischomachus, a well-to-do property-owner who
married recently, describes how he organizes his day and the work of his
servants. In this context the work offers an abundance of facts of cultural-
historical importance, while Ischomachus’ report on how he introduces his very
young wife to her domestic duties provides an invaluable insight into the life of
an Athenian woman. There were many admirers of the work; Cicero transla-
ted it.
In the chapter on Socrates mention was already made of Xenophon as a
Socratic author, so that a brief indication will suftice here. The main work is
the Memorabilia Avopynpovedpata Lwxpdrous),* four books of Socratic dis-
courses and episodes in motley variety. We refer to the section mentioned for a
discussion of the late time of composition of this and the other Socratic writings,
for its historical value and for the problem whether the first two chapters were
composed substantially earlier as a defence against the pamphlet of the sophist
Polycrates.3 Gigon’s radical attempt at resolving the Memorabilia into a number
of groups of ideas originating in the extensive Socratic literature before Xeno-
phon has greatly contributed to the clarification of this work in which so much
is implicit. Xenophon no doubt utilized to a large extent the Socratic writings
of others, but it is not possible to deny that he also had personal memories of the
Master. In the criticism of the Memorabilia and of the related works, the Xeno-
phontic element should especially be taken into account, the didactic tendency
to discuss things from the point of view of a practical morality without too
great a profundity of thought and to ensure for oneself in this way the correct
behaviour with regard to state and gods. Hardly anyone would claim that the

' Bibl. in H. EMONDS, Zweite Auflage im Altertum. Leipz. 1941, 383. JAEGER, 3, 250,
considers the writing genuine.
2 0. GIGON, Komm. zum 1. Buch von X.’s Mem. Schw. Beitr. 5, Basel 1953. Id. on Book
2 Schw. Beitr. 7, 1956. In add. J. H. KUHN, Gnom. 26, 1954, 512 and 29, 1957, 170. H. ERBSE,
‘Die Architektonik im Aufbau von X.’s Memorabilien’. Herm. 89, 1961, 257.
3 Important recent bibl.: A.-H. CHROUST, ‘Xen. Polycrates and the ‘Indictment of
Socrates’’.’ Class. et Mediaev. 16, 1955, 1. E. GEBHARD, Polykrates Anklage gegen Sokrates und
Xen.’s Erwiderung. Diss. Frankfurt 1957, which assumes that Xen. utilized Plato extensively.
V. LONGO, ’Avap addpéAuos. II problema della composizione dei ‘Memorabili di Socrate’ attraverso
lo Scritto di difesa. Genoa 1959, argues that the ‘Defence’ was written considerably earlier
than the rest of the Memorabilia as an immediate reaction to Polycrates’ pamphlet; he ob-
serves three strata in it. A justified protest in E. GEBHARD, Gnom. 34, 1962, 26, who also
rejects the assumption that the ‘Defence’ was published separately. Older bibl. on Poly-
crates in J.-H. KUHN, Grom. 32, 1960, 99, I.
622
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
combination of such heterogeneous elements has yielded a whole of convincing
unity.
The Apology of Socrates! — this written defence is, of course, one of a number
of similar works (cf. p. 499) —is in all respects of small format. Socrates’ speeches
before and after his conviction form only part of the work; they are flanked by
reports about his conduct before and after the trial. This Socrates of Xenophontic
proportions cannot forgo the opportunity of availing himself of the prophetic
vision of one near to death and foretells a terrible end for the son of his accuser
Anytus. The detail that he refused to move his own punishment at his trial may
be historical in view of Plato’s irony.
The most charming writing of this group is the Symposium,? the description
of a banquet given by the rich Callias, whom we know from Plato’s Protagoras
as hostel-warden to the sophists (cf. pp. 424 and 518), on the occasion of a
victory which his favourite Autolycus won in the pancratium during the Pan-
athenaean festival. Socrates makes many edifying statements and also delivers an
oration on sensual and spiritual eros. Of the symposiastic byplay the mime of
the union of Dionysus and Ariadne is particularly noteworthy, since it gives us
one of the few testimonies for such performances before the Hellenistic age.
The Hiero is a unique work; it is a dialogue representing the poet Simonides
in a discussion with the Sicilian prince on the nature and the possibilities of a
monarch. Its subject is that of the traditional novels about the relationship of
these two men (v. p. 185); within the compass of Xenophon’s writings it is
another proof of the vivid interest with which the question of monarchy
inspired him.
The Hellenistic age did not at first know what to make of Xenophon, but in
its later period there arose an interest in this author which constantly increased
throughout the empire? until by the end of the ancient world the seven forged
Letters of Xenophon prove this in their own way. But Xenophon certainly was
not the Attic bee as he is called by Suidas. His Attic Greek is not completely
pure and in many ways it anticipates Koine. But the lucid simplicity of his
language (a¢éAeva) and the easy intelligibility of his thought gained him his
readers and we can understand his light shining especially in late antiquity.
No one will deny his considerable and versatile talent, but it was a talent without
the spark of genius.
None of the many historians of the fourth century can claim to be a true heir
of Herodotus or Thucydides, though many attempted to follow them in a
variety of ways. Ctesias of Cnidos (F Gr Hist 688) depends on Herodotus,
t On the question of authenticity v. p. 494 with n. 1. On the chronological relation to
Plato’s Apology v. p. 495 with n. 2.
2 GJ. WOLDINGA, X.’s Symp. Hilversum 1938/39 (prol. and comm.) Ww. WIMMEL, ‘Zum
Verhiltnis einiger Stellen des xenoph. und des plat. ““Symp.”’’. Gymn. 64, 1957, 230,
attempts to prove Xen.’s priority, but the explanations of F. OLLIER in his edition in the
Coll. des Univ. de Fr. prove that the arguments are not yet definite. Ollier’s introduction
may urge some caution also for other problems of relative chronology concerning Plato
and Xen.
3 K. MUNSCHER, X. in der griech.-rom. Lit. Phil. Suppl. 13/2, 1920.
623
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

although he constantly censures his model with the pretence of better know-
ledge. He was court physician to Queen Parysatis and is believed to have lived
at the court of Artaxerxes II Mnemon for seventeen years. According to a later
report (Xen. Anab. 1. 8, 26) he cured the wound which the king’s brother had
inflicted at Cunaxa. In the beginning of the fourth century he wrote the twenty-
three books of his Persica, dealing first with Assyrian and Median, then with
Persian history from the legendary King Ninos up to the year 398. In Nero’s
time the learned Pamphilia made an extract from it; an extract from this by the
Patriarch Photius has been preserved. Obviously Ctesias was more important
as a story-teller than as an historian; he is a valuable witness for conditions at the
Persian Court. Athenacus (2. 67 a 10, 442 b) attests to a work On the Tribute of
Asia (Ilept rv Kara tiv "Actav dépwv) which was possibly part of the great
work. He also wrote a book Indica, of which we likewise have an extract by
Photius, and a geographical work called Periplus or Periodos. The fragment in
Ox. Pap. no. 2330 displays a surprising Attic colouring. Dinon of Colophon, the
father of Clitarchus, historian of Alexander, revised Ctesias’ Persica, continuing
this work until the end of the ’forties. He and Ctesias were utilized a great deal
by later writers. Agathocles of Cyzicus (F Gr Hist 472), who wrote about this
city in the Ionic dialect, should be dated about the middle of the third century,
contrary to the long accepted early date.
The abrupt termination of Thucydides’ work in the middle of the stream of
events seemed to invite continuation. We saw Xenophon attempting it, but he
was not the only one. The challenge was taken up amongst others by Theopom-
pus of Chios (F Gr Hist 115), an author of manifold interests but filled with
inner unrest. We possess no complete work of his, but enough fragments to be
able to discern his character to some extent. He was born in 378/376 and was
given abundant experience of the uncertainty of the times during his life. He
was forced to go into exile with his father Damasistratus on account of the .
latter’s pro-Spartan sentiments (T 2), an event which presumably took place in
his youth. Not until 333/332 could he return to his country due to Alexander’s
intervention, but at the latter's death he had to go abroad again. He then went
to Egypt, where friends had to protect the wanderer against a conviction by the
king. In the early periods of his life he travelled far in the Greek world, spending
some time at the court of Philip; he also lived in Athens, although the time of
his sojourn there cannot be fixed. In antiquity it was an accepted fact that he was
a pupil of Isocrates, and it is very doubtful whether modern critics have not
pushed their scepticism too far with their contention that this pupil-relationship
is a mere fiction derived from his literary dependence.! This dependence should
not be minimized. Theopompus may have carried on the tradition of Ionian
toropin but he accompanied it on its way to domination by rhetoric. With
his Epideictic Speeches (e.g. a Panathenaicus), Encomia (on Philip, Alexander,
Mausollus, with which he gained a victory in a contest organized by Artemisia)
and Open Letters he developed an activity which makes it understandable that
' Thus Jacoby on T I with bibl. Isocrates’ influence on historiography: G. MURRAY, Greek
Studies. 3rd ed. Oxf. 1948, 149.
624
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Suidas ranks him as an orator, and of which we now get an even better impres-
sion through the epigraphical evidence of the book lists of Rhodes (T 48). But
his name was mainly connected with his historical works. In two books he gave
an Epitome of Herodutus; he continued Thucydides with his Hellenica (12 books)
carrying on up to the battle of Cnidos (394), a well-chosen conclusion, since
Conon’s victory put an end to Spartan hopes of a hegemony over the whole of
Greece. His greatest work was the Philippica in fifty-eight books beginning with
Philip II’s enthronement and ending with his death (336). But although the
work was guided by the conception that Philip introduced a new era, the
description of his achievements was only the framework for a general con-
temporary history and numerous additions with special chapters about Persians,
Greeks and Sicilians. When Philip V had a compilation made of the parts which
directly concerned his forefathers, a work of only sixteen books was the result
(T 31). The title Oavpdova (F 64-77) designated part of Books 8 and 9, to which
the story of the wonderland Meropis (F 75) also belongs; On the Sacking of
Delphi (epi r&v ovdAnbevtav ex AcAddv ypnudtwv F 247-249) was treated in
a separate work.
Theopompus, who was very temperamental in his judgments — he also
attacked Plato in a very malicious manner (F 259; 275) — was governed entirely
by oligarchical and aristocratic ideals and later turned increasingly toward the
principle of a patriarchal monarchy as the protection of a conservative social
order.?
In Greek historiography, as it developed in the wake of the great authors of
the fifth century, certain continuous tendencies stand out.3 Rhetorical aids were
soon used to ornament the language: in this respect it was Isocrates and his school
who had a decisive influence. Another momentous development is connected
with Gorgias, who had stated that the aim of poetry and epideictic oratory was
delight and enchantment, an end which was now also being pursued by history.
What we discern in Ctesias can be recognized as the beginning of a development
which we shall find clearly marked by Duris and Phylarchus in the Hellenistic
age. A form of historiography is developing which aims at a violent emotional
effect (€x7Anéis) as a rival of tragedy, seeking to realize this by casting the
material in a theatrical form without respect for historical reality. In implacable
opposition to this tendency are the historians, who considered the tracing and
preservation of truth as their only business, as exemplified particularly by
Polybius.
The picture briefly sketched here gains in diversity when we consider that
1 i. D. WESTLAKE, ‘The Sicilian Books of Th.’s Philippica’. Historia 2, 1953/4, 288.
A. E. RAUBITSCHEK, ‘Theopompos on Thucydides the Son of Melesias’. Phoenix 14, 1960,
81, attempts a reconstruction of the information about the activity of this Thucydides in
Book 10 of the Philippica; bibl. on other attempts to trace Theopompus’ treatment of
Athenian statesmen is given 95, n. 19.
2K. V. FRITZ, ‘Die politische Tendenz in Th.’s. Geschichtschreibung’. Antike und Abend-

Pal cecum illuminating F. WEHRLI, ‘Die Geschichtschreibung im Lichte der antiken

Theorie’. Eumusia. Festgabe fiir E. Howald. Ziirich 1947, 54.
625
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

renunciation of Gorgias’ brand of seductiveness does not imply the simultaneous

renunciation of rhetorical usage. This describes the position of Theopompus.
Following the footsteps of his teacher Isocrates he sought a moderate rhetorical
transformation of his style without sacrificing the historical substance to dramatic
effects. His benevolent critic Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ad Pomp. 6) testifies to
his sincere diligence in the search for facts; he stresses especially the wealth and
great variety of didactic dicta, and also the careful testing from a moral stand-
point of the motives of the various personalities.
We became acquainted with a follower of Thucydides of considerable
importance through a papyrus find of the year 1906 which gave us twenty-one
columns of an historical text! dealing with events of the year 396/395; a com-
parison of this material with Xenophon’s reporting favours the new text.
The Hellenica Oxyrhynchia was written after 387 and before the end (346),
probably before the outbreak (356) of the Sacred War about Delphi. The
annalistical division of the material according to summer and winter points to a
close connection with Thucydides. Unless Ephorus was earlier, the Hellenica was
his main source. A few more fragments? came to light in 1934, got lost and were
rediscovered by V. Bartoletti in 1948. Scholars have vainly attempted to relieve
the Oxyrhynchian historian of his anonymity. Solutions indicating Theopom-
pus, Ephorus and many others can be ignored nowadays. Some thought that
Cratippus of Athens (F Gr Hist 64) was a likely candidate, as, according to
Dionysius’ information (De Thuc. 16), he was a contemporary of Thucydides
and carried on the latter’s work. Schwartz and Jacoby} went too far by casting
suspicion on this testimony and turning Cratippus into a Hellenistic author, but
we know too little about him to guarantee that this conjectural ascription is
correct. Jacoby hesitantly allotted the Hellenica Oxyrhynchia to Daemachus
(F Gr Hist 65). Ephorus utilized him, and the circumstance that he was a
Boeotian can be combined with the valuable information of the anonymous
author about the Boeotian League. But the support is weak and the Hellenica
Oxyrhynchia remains deprived of its author’s name.
Like Theopompus, Ephorus of Cyme was a pupil of Isocrates (F Gr Hist 70).4
The date of his birth is uncertain, but might be placed in the first quarter of the
fourth century. He wrote at least the greater part of his main work, the thirty

' F Gr Hist 66. No 1711 P. Discussion and bibl. in G. 7. GRIFFITH in Fifty Years (v. p. 619,
n. I), 160. Editions: M. GIGANTE, Rome 1949. V. BARTOLETTI, Leipz. 1959 on the basis of
a new collation of the papyri. On the question of authorship esp. H. BLOCH, ‘Studies in
historical literature of the fourth century’. Stud. pres. to W. S. Ferguson (special vol. of
Harv. Stud.) 1940, 303. ¥. JACOBY, ‘The Authorship of the Hell. of Ox.’. Class. Quart. He
1950, T.
* Pap. Soc. It. 13, 1949, no. 1304. Also printed by P. MAAs in the appendix to JACOBY’s
essay (v. prev. note). M. TREU, ‘Zu den neuen Bruchstiicken der Hell. von Ox.’. Gymn. $9,
1952, 302. R. STARK, Annales Univ. Saraviensis. Philos.-Lettres 8, 1/2, 1959, 47 n. 7 with
bibl.
3 Both in the comm. and in the work referred to above, n. 1; but cf. Griffith (v. p. 619,
n. I), 161. V. BARTOLETTI (by letter) is inclined to accept Cratippus as the author.
4 G.L. BARBER, The Historian Ephorus. Cambr. 1935. A. MOMIGLIANO, ‘La storia di Eforo
e le Elleniche di Teopompo’. Riv. Fil. 13, 1935, 180.
626
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

books of the Historiae, after 350. Its important influence - Diodorus amongst
others made extensive use of it, while Polybius honestly admired it — is based on
its quality as the first universal history.! Ephorus began with the conquest of the
Peloponnese by the Dorians, excluding the mythical era, and continued his
work, extending its scope, until the beginnings of Philip. Since he did not
achieve the conclusion which he had planned, his son Demophilus added the
history of the Sacred War. The remnants prove that Ephorus was a compiler of
great style who collected his sources without profound historical understanding
and occasionally harmonized in an arbitrary manner. His work attained a
peculiar quality through the moralizing didactic tenor which was particularly
evident in the prefaces. This agrees with the rationalism with which he treated
the myths. Much of this, such as the Delphian Python with the nickname
Dracon, a dangerous monster who is shot by Apollo (F 31), is reminiscent of the
finest ‘explanations’ of Hecataeus. As an Isocratic, he made certain demands upon
his style, which was probably the subject of his treatise On Style (Ilepi Aé€ews).
He knew how to separate epideictic speech from historical narrative (F 111) and
also remained aloof from Gorgianic seductiveness. It was considered that his
style lacked vigour,” which agrees with his slow manner of working. Isocrates is
alleged to have said that Theopompus needed reins, but Ephorus spurs (T 28).
His Local History (Emtyepios Adyos), devoted to the tradition of his native
town, and the work On Inventions (Ilepi edpnudrwr) in at least two books,
stand as independent works beside the Historiae.
Ephorus could already use the ten books of the Hellenica of Callisthenes
of Olynthus (F Gr Hist 124), which covered the period from the peace of
Antalcidas up to the beginning of the Sacred War (356), which was dealt with
in a separate treatise. Callisthenes, probably a great-nephew of Aristotle’s, with
whom he also compiled the List of the Pythian Victors (v. p. 572) was born about
370, accompanied Aristotle to Assos and to the Macedonian court and put his
writing into the service of Macedonian ideas with a Panhellenic accent. In this
sense he panegyrically extolled the deeds of Alexander, whom he accompanied
on his expedition, in the "AAeEdvdpou mpa€ers. But when he raised objections
in the matter of the proscynesis, he was executed in 327. Of his other writings
we mention a Hermeas and a Periplus. That his name was attached to the fabulous
Alexander romance is due to the fanciful way in which he wrote history.
Anaximenes of Lampsacus (F Gr Hist 72), whom Ephorus also utilized and
whom we already met as the writer of the Rhetorica ad Alexandrum (p. 591), was
important as an orator and only briefly rubbed shoulders with history, according
to Jacoby. But the connection was rather longer, for he wrote a Hellenica,
extending from mythical pre-history to the battle of Mantinea; furthermore,
Philippica (Aé wept Didermov ioropia), from which a letter of Philip and a
fictitious speech by Demosthenes have been preserved,’ and a History of Alexander
1 On one of the problems, AuR. PERETTI, Eforo e Ps.-Scilace. Studi Class. e Orient. 10. Pisa
1961.
2 Evidence in WEHRLI (v. p. 625, n. 3). .
nes v. p. 605. The speech also F Gr Hist72 F 11.
Corpus;
3 12 and 11 in the Demosthe
627
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

(Ta epi ’AAEavSpov), which fixes the second half of the fourth century as his
creative period. On Theopompus he played the trick of fathering upon him a
Tricaranus (F 20 f.) in which Athens, Sparta and Thebes appeared as the cause of
the political misery of Greece.
Of historians of the fourth century who are hardly more than names to us
we mention Heraclides of Cyme with a Persica (F Gr Hist 689), then Cephiso-
dorus of Thebes (F Gr Hist 112) and Leon of Byzantium (F Gr Hist 132)
who both wrote about the Sacred War. Of the last mentioned, a pupil of
Aristotle’s, there were also works on the history of Philip and Alexander.
Andron of Halicarnassus (F Gr Hist 10) moved into the field of genealogy
with his enquiries into the kinship of Greek states.
The first Athenian in the series of Atthidographers led by the Aeolian
Hellanicus (v. p. 330) was Clidemus (F Gr Hist 323). Inscriptions testify to
this version of his name against the form Clitodemus, also handed down and
also correct. We know of four books of his Afthis, which is also referred to
occasionally as Protogonia and which had some literary pretensions. It was
probably written in the middle of the fourth century. Clidemus, who himself
was an exegete (perhaps of the group of the Pythochresti), demonstrated his
interest in matters of worship also with the composition of an Exegeticus.
Among the Atthidographers Androtion (F Gr Hist 324)' occupies a special
position because he wrote Athenian history as an active politician. We already
met him as an opponent of Demosthenes’ (p. 599), who directed two speeches
against him in the beginning of his political career. He came from a distinguished
family, was born in Athens in the last decade of the fifth century and studied
under Isocrates. After a turbulent political career he went to Megara as an exile
in the late ’forties. There he wrote the eight books of his Atthis, which extended
up to at least 344/343.
A short span of time separates Androtion’s Atthis from the one by Phanode-
mus (F Gr Hist 325), who is identified, with a fair degree of probability, as
the father of Diyllus, the partisan of Lycurgus’ restoration policy. In 343/342 he
was a member of the Council and may have begun writing his Afthis, of which
we identify nine books, soon after 340. He is characterized by the particular
interest in cult and mythical tradition evinced by the fragments. He also wrote
a book On the Island of Icos ?Ixcaxd) with which personal memories must have
connected him. The most important representative of Sicilian historiography,
whose beginnings were mentioned earlier (p. 332), was at this time Philistus of
Syracuse (F Gr Hist 556). He was born in 430; his death can be definitely fixed
at 356/355. He wasa faithful adherent of the policy of the tyrants, which did not
prevent him from being exiled for a time by Dionysius I. His historical work
consists of two parts conceived as a unity and later combined into the Sicelica.
The seven books of the first part (Hepi Lexedas) deal with the history of the
island up to 406/405, the second part in six books (four on the elder, two on the
younger Dionysius) gave contemporary history. Philistus’ report on the younger
Dionysius remained a torso and it was at this point that Athanis (or Athanus) of
" JACOBY’S comm. gives an exhaustive monograph. In add. his Atthis, Oxf. 1949.
628
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

Syracuse (F Gr Hist 562) began his twelve books of contemporary history

leading up to at least the retirement of Timoleon (337/336).
Other authors of Sicilian history of this time are Timonides of Leucas (F Gr
Hist 561), who was a member of the Academy, and Hermeas of Methymna (F
Gr Hist 558), who was the first foreigner to occupy himself with Sicilian
history. There is a creditable report (F Gr Hist 557) that Dionysius I also
wrote history.
The first technical manual on warfare of which we know is a Treatise on the
Defence of a Besieged City, written by Aeneas Tacticus in the middle of the
century.’ The possibility may be considered that the writer is identical with the
Arcadian general Aeneas of Stymphalos (Xen. Hell. 7. 3, 1). At any rate, he was
a man of the sword, not of the pen. The historical examples and the glimpses of
conditions in the fourth century are valuable; the Greek is artless and displays
elements of Koine. What has been preserved was once part of a larger work
quoted by Polybius (10. 44: Ta wept t&v otpatnyiKGv bropvypara).
Ephorus showed that the line of rational interpretation of myths, initited by
Hecataeus and Herodotus, continued in the fourth century (though not ending
with him). Palaephatus’ writing On Incredible Stories (Mlepi aiatwv))? cannot be
dated more precisely, but belongs in the same century. The writer’s name is
perhaps a pseudonym, but he clearly demonstrates his mettle in the consistency
with which he squeezes his own brand of ‘truth’ from the myths down to the
last detail. Of the five books of this work an epitome with fifty-two stories has
been preserved.
Finally we add a curious writer who should otherwise remain unnoticed.
Antiphanes of Berge, an author of incredible stories (perhaps the title was
"Amvora) managed to make ‘Bergaic speech’ (Bepyatfewv) into the technical
term for unadulterated humbug. O. Weinreich? has proved that he belonged
to the fourth century and has shown that the fairy-tale of the frozen notes goes
back to this man.

The Xenophontic manuscript tradition varies with regard to the different

works; it is copious, but contains fairly late codices. F. G. DEL R10, Manuscritos
de Jenofonte en bibliotecas espandlas. Emérita 26, 1958, 319. H. ERBSE, ‘Text-
kritische Bemerkungen zu X.’ Rhein. Mus. 103, 1960, 144 (with numerous con-
jectures which presuppose minuscule corruptions on the basis of the history of
the transmission). The quite numerous papyri (nos 1210-1233 P.), especially
Pap. Ox. 463 (no 1211 P.), have led to a more careful assessment of the less
Edition: Illinois Greek Club (with Asclepiodotus and Onasander). Loeb Class. Libr.
1923. L. W. HUNTER and $. A. HANDFORD, Aineiu Poliorketika. Oxf. 1927, with elaborate
discussion of the style. Lexicon: D. BARENDS, Utrecht 1955.
2 Edition: N. FESTA. Leipzig 1902; cf. WILH. NESTLE, Vom Mythos zum Logos. Stuttg.
1940, 148 with bibl.
3 Antiphanes und Miinchhausen. Sitzb. Ak. Wien. Phil.-hist. KI. 220/4, 1942. Correct date
already in WILAMOWITZ, Herm. 40, 1905, 150= Kl. Schr. 4. Berl. 1962, 203.
xD 629
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

valued manuscripts. A Ptolemaic papyrus in E. SIEGMANN, Lit. griech. Texte der

Heidelberger Pap. Sammlung. Heidelberg 1956, no 206 with Xen. Mem. 1.3, 7-133
p. R. MERKELBACH, Stud. zur Textgesch. u. Textkritik. Cologne and Opladen
1959, 1$7. Details in the editions mentioned below, also v. Delebecque in his
ed. mentioned p. 621, n. 3 of the work On Riding. In his ed. of the Symp.
and Apol. in the Coll. des Univ. de Fr. F. OLLIER rejects the possibility of a
manuscript-stemma; he believes that only an eclectic approach is feasible.
Editions: TEUBNER: C. HUDE, Anab. 1931. Hellen. 1930. Memor. 1934. TH.
THALHEIM, Opuscula 2 vols 1910/12. Bibliotheca Oxoniensis: F.C. MARCHANT,
5 vols, 1900-1920 (all vols repeatedly reprinted). Id. bilingual in the Loeb
Class. Libr. 2 vols with Mem., Oecon. and Scripta Minora, 1956. Coll. des Univ.
de Fr. (bilingual): p. MAsQUERAY, Anab. 2 vols 1930 (3rd impr. 1952). J. HATZ-
FELD, Hellen. 2 vols 1936/39 (2nd impr. 1949/48). P. CHANTRAINE, Oéecon. 1949
F. OLLIER, Symp., Apol. 1961. —G. PIERLEONI, X. opuscula. Rome 1937. M. I.
FINLEY, The Greek Historians, The Essence ofHerod, Thuc. Xen. Polyb. New York
1959 (Selected passages with notes and introductions). Individual editions men-
tioned in the notes. - F. w. STURZ, Lexicon Xenophonteum, 4 vols. Leipz. 1801—-
1804. — Recent transl.: w. H. D. DousE, The March up country. Michigan 1958.
Language: L. GAUTIER, La Langue de X. Geneva 1911. M. SACHSENHAUSER,
‘Untersuchungen iiber die Sperrungen von Substantiv und Attribut in X.s
Anabasis.’ Wien. Stud. 72, 1959, 54. — Studies: A. MOMIGLIANO, ‘L’ egemonia
tebena in Senof. e in Eforo.’ Atene e Roma 37, 1935, IOI. E. DELEBECQUE,
*X., Athénes et Lacédémone.’ Rev. Et. Gr. 69, 1946, 71. A. DELATTE, ‘La
Formation humaniste selon X.’ Bull. de lAss. Budé 35, 1949, 505. H. R. BREITEN-
BACH, Historiographische Anschauungsformen X.s. Diss. Basel 1950. M. SORDI,
‘I caratteri dell’ opera storiografica di Senof. nelle Elleniche’. Athenaeum N.S.
28, 1950, I; 29, 1951, 273. J. LUCCIONI, X. et le socratisme. Paris 1953.
The other historians:
Bibl. on individual authors given in the notes. On the whole section: G. DE
SANCTIS, Studi di storia della storiografia greca. Florence 1951. — The first con-
tinuous piece of Ctesias’ Persica, surprisingly in the Attic dialect, was supplied
by Ox. Pap. 22, 1954, no. 2330; cf. K. LATTE, Gnom. 27, 1955, 497. R. MERKEL-
BACH, Arch.f.Pap. Forsch. 16, 1956, 109. D. DEL CORNO, ‘La lingua di Ctesia
(P. Ox. 2330)’. Athenaeum N.S. 40, 1962, 12b.

5 DRAMA
In the field of dramatic poetry the fourth century also produced a great many
works.' Wherever the Greek migrated, his theatre came with him and found
appreciation. Pottery gives apt evidence of the extent to which at the time
tragedy conquered the Greek west. In the course of this development the great
tragedy of the fifth century came gradually to be regarded as classical compared
' T. B. L, WEBSTER, Art and Literature in Fourth Century Athens. Lond. 1956. Id. ‘Fourth
Century Tragedy and Poetics’, Herm. 82, 1954, 294. Theatrical production: id. Greek
Theatre Production. Lond. 1956. A. PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, The Dramatic Festivals of Athens.
Oxf. 1953. On comedy v. p. 632, n. 4.
630
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

with the new trend. Starting presumably in 386, the restaging of an old tragedy
had been inserted in the festival programme of the Dionysia. The fragment of
the epigraphical Didascaliae for 341-339! shows that Euripides was selected in
each of the three years. The young Astydamas, a descendant of Aeschylus, who
was victorious in 341 and 340, complained in some lines (1, p. 113 D.), meant
for his statue in the theatre, that he could not compete directly with the greatest
men in his art. Lycurgus had the statues of the three classic tragedians placed in
the new stone structure and established the text by means of a state-copy; this
meant the acknowledgment and the conclusion of a development which con-
demned later work to ruin.
But we believe that we have an example of the production of the fourth
century in the Rhesus, which has been handed down to us under the name of
Euripides. Recent attempts to prove its authenticity have remained inconclusive;?
the essential features of the play indicate the post-classical era. The dramatization
of the Dolonea (Iliad 10) with many a charming lyrical note as in the morning
song of the guards (v. 527), and the picture of life in camp, beginning with the
anapaestic scene of the prologue, has been vividly drawn. The story how
Odysseus and Diomedes first kill the Trojan counterspy Dolon and then the
Thracian king Rhesus, who had just boastfully arrived to support the Trojans,
has been shaped with obvious pains to achieve dramatic effect. But it is right
here that the contrast with Euripides appears; through all kinds of insinuations
and accusations minor secondary conflicts are kindled which die out rapidly and
without effect; the play as a whole does not gain dramatic life or even the aspect
of true tragedy. In this sphere the writer of the Rhesus remains far distant even
from Euripides’ weaker plays. Gottfried Hermann} already thought that the
almost complete absence of the gnomic element in the play was a valid argument
for its rejection.
The abundance of poets’ names and tragedy-titles which Nauck’s collection
of fragments provides for this period gives us an idea of how much has been
lost. We must be satisfied with being able to make some observations of basic
importance. With regard to subject-matter, Agathon’s experiment of free
invention (v. p. 412) was obviously not carried on. Again and again we come
upon the old subjects with their assured effect, and an unmistakable tendency
toward the blatant, the theatrical, the tpayicdv as this time understood it.
Meletus (the father of the accuser of 399?) wrote an Oedipodea and presumably
was not the only one to take up the old trilogy combination again on occasion.
Carcinus, a grandson of the bearer of this name who was jeered at by Aristo-
phanes, for a time a guest at the court of the younger Dionysius, wrote an
™ PICKARD (v. sup.), I10.
2 Lately c. B. SNELLER, De Rheso tragoedia. Diss. Utrecht. Amsterd. 1949. Against it A.,
LESKY, Gnom. 23, 1951, 141. Cf. G. BJORCK, Arktos N.S. 1, 1954, 16; Eranos 55, 1957, 7.
LESKY, I218. H. STROHM, ‘Beobachtungen zum Rhesos’. Herm. 87, 1959, 257, shows how
single Euripidean themes are embroidered upon in the play. Its spuriousness is derived by
him especially from the manner in which, contrary to Euripides, events are brought on the
stage which should take place behind the scenes. Parts of the hypothesis: Pap. Soc. It. 12/2,
1951, no. 1286. 3 De Rheso tragoedia. Diss. 1828.
631
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Orestes in which he made his hero speak in riddles. Aristotle refers in various
passages! to his plays Amphiaraus, Alope, Oedipus, Medea. Of the earlier men-
tioned Astydamas we know the titles Antigone, Alcmeon and Hector; Antiphon
is supposed to have concluded the series of models of old subjects approved in
classical tragedy with his Andromache, to which Aristotle refers on occasion
(Eth. Eud. 7, 4. 1239 a 37), his Meleager and Philoctetes. We can discern that this
new form of tragedy was largely shaped after the model of the later Euripidean
tragedy with its whims of Tyche, its ingenious intrigues and recognitions.
Thus Hyginus fab. 72 produced a modification of the Antigone theme, perhaps
after Astydamas’ play,” in which Haemon conceals his bride with shepherds and
in which, years afterwards, a son of the two comes to Thebes for the games and
so brings about the dramatic complication. It is dangerous to venture a com-
prehensive judgment in a field of which so little is known, but it seems most
probable that these epigonic tragedies subsisted of technical refinement and had
no longer any bearing on the religious issue; in that spirit the fifth century had
conserved the myths as a great manifestation of the spiritual.
The poets of the time who selected historical subjects could claim Aeschylus
as their model. Besides many plays on mythical subjects, Theodectes of Phaselis
also wrote a Mausolus, and of Moschion, who possibly belongs to the third
century, there was a Themistocles and Pheraeans, probably a play about the murder
of the tyrant Alexander of Pherae. Only rarely do more remote subjects appear,
as when Dionysius I, a dilettante of the drama, bestowed upon his age a Leda
and an Adonis. For the satyr-play it is interesting that we know of a play Agen,3
whose author is alleged to have been a certain Python, if not even Alexander
himself. In it the renegade Harpalus is mocked with his hetaerae. This may have
been an isolated occurrence, but at any rate we see that the borders between
satyr-play and comedy begin to give way.
In the Poetics (6. 1450 b 7), Aristotle supplies valuable evidence of the pheno-
menon that the tragedy of the time was no less subject to the influence of
thetoric than history, when he connects the speeches of the older tragedy with
politics, and those of the younger with rhetoric. Theodectes of Phaselis whom
we already met as an orator (p. 572), Astydamas and a certain Aphareus, who
appears in the Didascaliae of 341 as third with Peliades, Orestes and Auge, were
pupils of Isocrates; Chaeremon is compared with a speech-writer by Aristotle
(Rhet. 3. 12. 1413 b 12).
The musical element became very independent in comparison with the
thetorical. We already observed, in discussing Agathon (p. 411 f.), that Aristotle
makes him the starting-point of the degeneration to a mere appendix of the
choral song, which once was the essential carrier of the meaning. A papyrus of
the early third century* containing a fragment of a post-classical tragedy has
' These in NAUCK and in WEBSTER’S essay (v. p. 630, n. 7), 300.
2 WEBSTER (v. prev. note), 305.
5 w.suUss, Herm. 74, 1939, 210. A. V. BLUMENTHAL, ibid. 216. H. HOMMEL, ibid. 75, 1940,
237, 335.
+ No. 1348 P.=pace, Greek Lit. Pap. Lond. 1950, no. 28, cf. A. KORTE, Arch. Pap. Forsch.
5, 1913, $70.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

between two scenes only the note ‘Song of the Chorus’ (yopod Leos). From
the symptoms in Euripides it may be supposed that this choral lyric, having
become independent, developed in the style of the new dithyramb.
The disintegration of that perfect blending of the arts in classical tragedy, a
unity which was achieved at no time or place in the same way, also betrays
itself otherwise. There is evidence that, in the period of post-classical tragedy,
an exaggerated importance was attached to production and to the performance
of the actors, then, as now, symptoms of decadence. A celebrated producer,
restaging Euripides’ Orestes, turned it into a ‘musical’ by making Helen appear
at the beginning, marching on speechlessly with the rich plunder from Troy
(Schol. Or. 57). For an appreciation of the actors we shall leave aside individual
anecdotes and names! and content ourselves with Aristotle’s complaint (Rhet.
3, 1. 1403 b 33) that in his time mimes had preference over the poets. On the
other hand, the same Aristotle (Rhet. 3, 12. 1413 b 12) attests the occurrence of
dramas meant to be read and mentions Chaerephon, to whom he referred
before, as a poet of this genre.
While our slight knowledge of the tragedy of the fourth century means that
from that time onward this form of art is lost in relative obscurity until the
Romans renewed it, things are different with regard to comedy. We know a
good deal about it in the time of Alexander, but it is extremely difficult for us
to restore the bridge between the old comedy of Aristophanes and the new of
Menander. The Hellenistic era had already introduced the tripartition of
comedy into Old (Archaia), Middle (Mese) and New (Nea) (cf. p. 418),” but the
boundaries between the three phases can only be approximated with the years
400 and 320. Already the late plays of Aristophanes reveal the gradual change
of form of the comic play; the parabasis is left out, the choral passages become
more independent, the political element recedes and personal ridicule is
silenced.
We can supplement the history of Middle Comedy? with authors’ names and
titles of plays. The anonymous On Comedy mentions fifty-seven poets and
607 plays and it can be argued with good reason that this number is far too low.*
As in the case of tragedy, we find here, too, an artistic family tradition; thus,
Aristophanes’ sons Ararus, Nicostratus and Philetaerus’ wrote comedies. From
the abundance of other names we single out three particularly prolific and
successful authors. Antiphanes, born at the very end of the fifth century, lived
and worked until deep into the second half of the following. According to
Suidas he wrote 280 or even 365 plays; we still know 134 titles. He does not
leave his younger contemporary Alexis of Thurii far behind; Suidas mentions
INCE PESKY 221-
2 On the unsuccessful attempt to place this division in the Hadrianic era A. KORTE, RE
Lin LOZ, 1256.
3 KORTE, V. Sup.; T. B. L. WEBSTER, Studies in Later Greek Comedy. Manchester Un. Pr.
1953 (with chronol. table). In add. Webster’s two books mentioned p. 630, n. 7).
4 Evidence and discussion in KORTE (v. sup.), 1265, 56.
s Some confusion remains with regard to the third name, cf. SCHMID 4, 222.
6 Confusion with a younger poet of that name should be taken into account.
633
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the number of 245 for him, while we record 130 titles. A modest exception
compared with these is Anaxandrides of Camiros in Rhodes (or Colophon
according to others) with a legacy of sixty-five plays. His activity, which
brought him his first victory in the Dionysia of 376, continues even into the first
few years of the second half of the century.’ One thing is at once evident from
these figures; this production was no longer concerned with Athens only. It
still remained the centre of dramatic art to which poets of foreign origin
migrated, but its plays went out into the entire Greek world with its vast
number of theatres.
The numerous remnants of Middle Comedy delight us with their abundance
of cultured wit, but in no case do they give an idea of the structure and form of
the plays. Therefore we would be all the more grateful, if we could with some
certainty allot to this period of the history of comedy one of the originals of the
Latin comic plays. This attempt has been made for three plays of Plautus’, the
Persa, the Menaechmi and the Amphitruo,? but all attempts to find a firm footing
are unsuccessful. In the case of the Persa the probability of origin from Middle
Comedy is greatest; in it a resourceful slave tricks a girl from a procurer’s hands
with the aid of a fellow-slave and a parasite. Nevertheless, the fragments permit
some of the features of Middle Comedy to be ascertained. They enable us to
discern gradual transitions, since we can observe that many of the elements of
Old Comedy were retained and not a few of the New anticipated.
The Middle Comedy is no longer political in the sense that it grew wholly out
of the soil of the polis and was directly connected with its life, as is most clearly
demonstrated by the omission of the parabasis. This implies by no means that
comedy had renounced all reference to contemporary events and in particular
to Athenian politics. The comic poet Theopompus, whose work overlaps the
end of the Old and the beginning of the New, attacked (fr. 30 K.) Callistratus, one
of the engineers of the Second Naval League and in the Peace, which repeats an
Aristophanic title, as does a play by Eubulus, he probably selected as his subject
one of the peace-conferences of the ’seventies. The Sicilian tyrants were the butt
of Eubulus in his Dionysius, and of Ephippus in his Eiomoede (fr. 16 K.). The
fragments referring to Demosthenes? are numerous and Philip came in for his
share as well. One of the few fragments whose force and fancy are reminiscent
of Old Comedy — it is from Mnesimachus’ Philippus (fr. 7 K.) — depicts the
Macedonian as a savage iron-eater. Timocles turned this into an ironic variation
on Demosthenes in his Heroes (fr. 12 K.).
Of the philosophers, the adherents of Pythagoras and Plato+ particularly
attracted the attention of comedy. Earlier (p. 539) we came upon the large
anapaestic fragment of an unknown play by Epicrates which we considered an
important piece of evidence for the teaching activity of the Academy (fr. 11 Ke):
* An inscription with numerous details in PICKARD (v. p. 630, n. I), 122.
; 2 In great detail WEBSTER (v. p. 633, n. 3), 67, 78, 86. For this attribution of the model
for the Persa also K. J. DOVER in Fifty Years of Classical Scholarship Oxf. 1954, 118, with
bibl. On late dating of the Amphitruo recently w. H. FRIEDRICH, Euripides und Digiistos Zet
5, 1953, 263. —
3 WEBSTER (v. p. 633, n. 3), 44. + WEBSTER (¥. sup.), 53.
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 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE
Finally we should at least mention the passage from Ephippus’ Nauagus (fr. 14
K.) in which a foppish Academic is depicted.
Nor did personal ridicule against individual citizens, the dvopacrl cwpwdeiy,
in vain objected to in classical times, come to an end in any way with the exit of
Old Comedy.! But all this should not let us lose sight of the fact that the aspects
referred to were (at least as a rule) of secondary importance, no longer con-
cerned with the innermost essence of a wholly political play.
Ancient criticism? stressed the preference in Middle Comedy for the travesty
of myths. This holds good only with certain reservations. Old Comedy was
already quite familiar with this tendency, of which a series of titles of Aristo-
phanes’ later period (p. 427) gives adequate evidence. On the other hand, the
travesty of myths may play an important part in the Middle Comedy, but it is
by no means dominant. The parody can be directly aimed at the myth or at its
representation by tragedy. The first is the case in most comedies which have the
story of a divine birth for their subject. Here, too, the line becomes evident
which leads down from Old Comedy, for Hermippus’ Birth of Athena falls still
within its scope. In Middle Comedy the theme was continued in a series of plays.
Philiscus had a marked preference for it, using it for Zeus, Aphrodite, Apollo
and Artemis, Hermes and even Pan. In many other cases the effect of such a
Comodotragoedia (a title of a play by Alcaeus, who belongs to the Old Comedy,
and by Anaxandrides) was attempted by parodying well-known tragedies. It
was no doubt a capital joke when Orestes for once did not run his sword through
Aegisthus’ breast and the two left the stage as thick as thieves,? or when in a
topsy-turvy world Odysseus was working at the loom instead of Penelope
(Alexis, Odysseus the Weaver) and Ajax, wild with fear of Cassandra, fled to
Athena’s statue.* Comedies, such as Antiphanes’ Aeolus, Anaxandrides’ Helen,
Eubulus’ Auge, Ion, Medea and Phoenix, point at Euripidean tragedies. The latter
had already achieved the greatest popularity in the fourth century and a title
like Axionicus’ Phileuripides epitomizes a whole chapter of literary history. A
noteworthy phenomenon is the receding of myth travesty from the middle of
the century onward. This is principally connected with the growing alienation
from the myths, for as a rule it is the things with which an internal relation exists
which are parodied. On the other hand impudent jesting with the old myths
seems to have maintained its place in the phlyax-farce of the Greek west,
especially according to the evidence of pottery.
We can only guess at the stages of a development which took place in Middle
Comedy, leading gradually to Menander’s domestic comedy. This is clearly
expressed in Aristotle’s criticism (Poet. 9. 1451 b 13) of contemporary comedy
that it built up the action according to the laws of probability, adding names as
they happened to come to mind. In addition, Antiphanes complains in his
prologue to the Poesis how much worse off comedy is than tragedy; while the

1 A good list in WEBSTER (v. sup.), 29.

2 Platonius, epi dvadopas ckwpwdidv, II in KAIBEL, Com. Graec. Fragm. I, 1899, 5.
3 Aristot. Poet. 13. 1453 a 37. f ;
4 Vase picture in M. BIEBER, History of Gr. and Rom. Theatre, Princeton 1939, fig. 366 f.
635
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

latter needs only one single mythical name to have its plot ready made, the
former has to use free invention for everything, action and names.
We observed earlier (p. 448) that the elements of middle-class comedy were
already present in Old Comedy; it was, however, the later tragedies of Euripides
and his period which were decisive for this development. Comedy was con-
nected with them in two ways. It continued parodying them while also borrow-
ing themes and compositional forms. Love themes are adopted freely now and
the significance of intrigue and anagnorisis clearly demonstrates the influence of
Euripidean models. When we review Eubulus’ Wreath-dealers (XtedavorrwAdes)
with the aid of the fragments from Naevius’ Corollaria, we find a procuress who
does not want her daughter to marry, but wishes to keep her for her profitable
trade of shame, a timid suitor and another one who knows how to act. Slave
parts also begin to stand out and their relations with one another could equally
well belong to the New Comedy. In this connection it is important that already
in Middle Comedy we meet with all the stock-figures which from now on
people the comic stage of the ancient world and, in an often only slight disguise,
that of the modern western world: the hetaera,! the comic old woman,? the
procurer (the latter for the first time in Eubulus’ HopvoBooxes), the young man
in love, the braggart3 typified in Aristophanes’ Acharnians by Lamachus, the
parasite,+ the cook’ and the slave, already shown playing an important part in
Aristophanes’ Plutus.
Although we are able to describe a certain range of subjects of Middle Comedy
with sufficient accuracy, a great deal remains obscure such as the numerous
titles taken from trades and professions.
Two more important facts can, however, be gleaned from the remnants. The
obscene joke, which from the earliest beginning of Old Comedy had claimed the
right to be as broad as it liked, gave way before a greater decency oflanguage,
and the separation of the choral parts from the body of the play, already marked
in the late Aristophanes, continued.® There were still some intermediate stages,
for some sparse remnants seem to prove cases in which the choral lyrics were
already insertions foreign to the plot, while the chorus remained on stage during
the play and occasionally took part in the dialogue. Many transitional forms must
have occurred, but the complete separation of the choral part as shown in the
New Comedy had certainly already been completed in Middle Comedy.
The disappearance of the choral lyrics meant, of course, that we find nothing
like Aristophanes’ polymetry, but a certain variety is found in the metre of the
dialogue.? Longer anapaestic systems are not rare.

" H. HAUSCHILD, Die Gestalt der Hetdre in der griech. Kom. Diss. Leipz. 1933.
* H. G. OERI, Der Typ. der kom. Alten in der griech. Kom. Diss. Basel 1948.
3 O. RIBBECK, Alazon, Leipz. 1882; daly in Anaxandrides fr. 49 K.
4 Title of aplay by Alexis. The ancestors of this type go back to Epicharmus.
i) A. GIANNINI, ‘La figura del cuoco nella commedia greca’. Acme 13, 1960, 135.
6 On the question of the chorus: K. J. MAIDMENT, ‘The Later Comic Chorus’. Class.
Quart. 29, 1935, I. A. PICKARD-CAMBRIDGE, The Theatre of Dionysus. Oxf. 1946, 160.
T.B.L. WEBSTER, Studies in Menander. Manchester Un. Pr. 1950, 182. Cf. Papyrus no. 1239 P,
7 Survey in KORTE (Vv. p. 632, n. 2), 1265, 17.
636
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

The Attic oenochoe! in Leningrad with actors and masks proves that the old
comic dress with patched shirt and phallus continued into fourth century. But
we may assume that the costumes of New Comedy which approximated to those
of the middle class were being prepared for during the later stages of Middle
Comedy.

A. WILHELM’ research is still fundamental for the drama of this period; Urkunden
dram. Auffiihrungen in Athen. Vienna 1906. In addition the books by Pickard and
Webster mentioned p. 636, n. 1. The texts for tragedy in NAUCK, Trag. Graec.
Fragm. 2nd ed. Leipzig 1889, for comedy in TH. KOCK, Com. Ait. Fragm., 2,
Leipzig 1884, but his sometimes arbitrary treatment of the text invites references
to A. MEINEKE, Com. Graec. Fragm. (5 vols.) 1839 ff. J. M. EDMONDS, The Frag-
ments of Attic Comedy. II Middle Comedy, Leiden 1959. Cf. B. MARZULLO, Gnom.
34, 1962, 543. Anonymous fragments of Middle Comedy also in III A. Leiden
1961. Pictorial studies: T. B. L. WEBSTER, Monuments illustrating Old and Middle
Comedy, Univ. of London Inst. of Class. Stud. Bull. Suppl. 9, 1960. Remnants of
the phlyaces farce: A. OLIVIERI, Frammenti della commedia greca e del mimo nella
Sicilia e nella Magna Grecia. I. Framm. della comm. fliacica. 2nd ed. Naples 1947,

6 OTHER FORMS OF POETRY

Earlier we mentioned (p. 305) that the old epic came to an end with Choerilus
and that he was aware of this. But that this did not mean the end of epic poetry,
is shown at about the same time by Antimachus of Colophon.’ Plato esteemed
this poet highly; since we know from Philodemus that the Stoic Ariston of
Chios praised the educational ideas in Antimachus’ poems* we also understand
that Plato was not, at least not only, impelled by aesthetic considerations. At any
rate he appointed Heraclides Ponticus to go to Colophon to collect Antimachus’
poems.* This dates Antimachus’ death prior to Plato’s (348/347), one of the few
indications which we can give of this poet’s life. Plutarch (Lys. 18) relates that
at the festival of the Lysandrea, as the Samian Heraea had been servilely renamed,
Lysander himself allotted the victory to a poet Niceratus over Antimachus, and
that the latter destroyed his poem im a fit of passion. This gesture of bad temper
may be a decorative invention, but there is no reason to doubt the contest, and
so we can date some of Antimachus’ poems before Lysander’s death; the latter
fell before the walls of Haliartos in 395. The dates mentioned leave a wide
margin; Apollodorus of Athens places Antimachus’ floruit in 404,5 and this will
be approximately correct. Chronologically it is impossible that he was a pupil
of Panyassis and so we shall not give much credit to Suidas’ other statement that
I BIEBER (v. p. 635, n. 4), fig. 121. PICKARD (v. p. 632, n. 4), fig. 80. Photo in BE. BETHE,
Griech. Dichtung, Plate 8. Other material in PICKARD (v. sup.), 234; WEBSTER, Production
(v. p. 635, n. 4), 55; DOVER (v. p. 634, Nn. 2), 121. . ap
2 g. wyss, Antimachi Colophonii Reliquiae. Berl. 1936, with an extensive introduction.
3 Test. 16 W.; praef. 41.
4 Test. 1 W. Heracl. Pont. fr. 6 Wehrli. 5 Test. 4 W.
637
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Stesimbrotus was his teacher. Of his two main works one, the Thebaid, was an
epic. From the quotations five books can be distinguished with certainty, but
it is probable that the work comprised twenty-four. With erudite thoroughness
(the series of poetae docti begins with Antimachus) he begins with Zeus love for
Europa, and so arrives at the foundation of Thebes. The fragments are too scanty
for us to be able to discern anything substantial about the structure of the whole;
that Statius’ Thebaid should be largely dependent on Antimachus has proved to
be a heresy.! We have no way of knowing how much Antimachus still knew
of the old cyclic Thebaid (cf. p. 80) or whether he utilized it, but it certainly
was his ambition to enter the lists with Homer’s Iliad: not, of course — and this
denotes the hiatus between Antimachus and all preceding epic poetry — in the
sense of direct continuation and imitation, but through learned absorption of
Homeric artifices and their conscious revival and enhancement. For the poet of
the Thebaid was at the same time a Homeric philologist. We have already (p. 75)
mentioned an edition of Homer, and individual bits of evidence? point to studies
in the poet though we cannot indicate, where Antimachus has reported their
results.
His second great poetical work, the Lyde, narrated in elegiac metre stories of
unhappy love as presented by the myths. According to the tradition the poetical
expression of mythical sorrow of love would bring the poet solace after the
death of his beloved Lyde.3 What we can still grasp points to elegiac narrative.
The story of the Argonauts was dealt with elaborately, possibly in Book I. In
the admittedly scanty remnants a personal note does not sound anywhere. It
certainly cannot have been entirely absent and may have found its place in the
introduction to the whole work. In the same way in which Antimachus revived
Homer in his Thebaid according to his own ideas, he renewed elegiac poetry in
the style of Mimnermus’ Nanno. But while there we cannot establish a cohesion
of the parts and at most think of separate elegies, Antimachus combined in his
Lyde the various stories into one whole. No doubt catalogue poetry in the
manner of Hesiod was an important model for him. We regret that on this
very point we cannot go beyond general observations, for Antimachus shows
in these achievements of his, the shaping of elegiac narrative and of ‘collective
poetry’, that he was a precursor of Hellenistic art.
One quotation (fr. 72 W.) points to Book II, but the Lyde must have been of
considerably larger size. Callimachus,+ who simply could not stand big books,
also ridiculed this poetry for its popularity.
Other works ofthis poet such as the Delti and the Artemis are mere titles for us.
The literary-historical importance of Antimachus is proved by the exceedingly
lively controversy over him in the following era. The judgments, as Wyss has
' In his preface wyss correctly criticizes the scholium on Statius’ Thebaid 3, 466 (in
KASPAR VON BARTH). There (5) also on the problem connected with Porphyry’s scholium
on Horace, Ars Poet. 146. The confusion has been cleared up and it has been proved that
for the Thebaid only the size of 24 Books can be made probable from the notice.
2 Wyss, praef. 30.
3 Hardly the poet’s wife (thus Test. 7). The name points to servile origin,
4 Fr. 398 Pf.; Antrim. Test. 19 W.
638
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

collected them, are extremely divergent. We heard of Callimachus’ ill-will

which is still echoed by the Neoteric Catullus (95). This is contrasted with such
warm recognition as that uttered in the epigrams of Asclepiades and Posidippus
(Anth. Pal. 9. 63; 12. 168). Earlier (p. 305) we heard that in this battle of the
critics — Choerilus on the one side, Antimachus on the other — Crates of Mallos
resolutely took position for the Colophonian. This discord of opinions and not
in the last place the reserve of his contemporaries (Test. 3) indicates that Anti-
machus’ poetry meant a radical change. For that reason we regret its loss all the
more. Nevertheless we can, on the basis of various features, understand him to
be the precursor of Hellenistic poetry and already mentioned some that point
in this direction. The most important and momentous is that in Antimachus we
recognize a poet who consciously combined the work of the scholar with that
of the artist. This means that poetry now withdraws from the association which
in classical times bound artist and community into a firm unity. Only for the
educated is it possible to follow the learned poet on his laborious way and
something like “l’art pour l’art’ announces itself. A gap which began to open
with the sophists, now also becomes visible in the literary sphere.
The direction indicated reveals itself to us both in the delight in remote factual
detail and in the linguistic form. The few verses which we know abound with
Homeric forms; it does not now indicate a rhapsodic tradition but the result
of careful research and painstaking consideration. Also in the choral language
numerous borrowings are made. The rare word, ‘select’ in the true sense, the
gloss, is now considered the special ornament of speech, a tacked-on ornament
which only the connoisseur can appreciate. The search for this sort of thing
begins at the time of Antimachus and we think that in Antidorus of Cyme who
wrote On Homer and Hesiod and compiled a Lexis we can recognize a precursor
of the later glossographers who perhaps still belongs in the fifth century.
But art of this nature does not live only on the results of such collecting and
sifting; it aims at gaining new recognition for the material by means of skilful
variation and we can find examples of this in Antimachus’ fragments. But we
cannot tell if behind all this there was a real poet, as was, for instance, the case
with Callimachus. From the criticism of the ancients we can conclude that
Antimachus had none of the former’s charm, for this is the very quality they
denied him, characterizing his poetry as austere, flat and laborious.’ Perhaps the
judgment of the time which allowed his work to perish was not unjustified,
however regrettable it may be for us.
There were other epics written in the fourth century, but names in odd
notices such as Dinarchus of Delos or Persinus of Ephesus tell us little or nothing.
We get somewhat further with Archestratus of Gela who was roughly con-
temporary with Alexander and good-humouredly taught gastronomical lore in
the hexameters of his Hedypathea. Athenaeus has preserved extensive fragments,

t Dionysius of Halicarnassus, De compos. verb. 22; De imit. 2, 2. Plutarch, Timol. 36, De

garrul. 21. Quintilian, Instit. 10. 1, 53.
2 Some detail in wILAMOWITZ, Hellenistische Dichtung. 1, Berl. 1924, 104.
3 In P. BRANDT, Corpusculum poesis epicae Graecae Iudibundae. 1. Leipz. 1888, 114.
639
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

and Ennius passed this breviary for gluttons on to the Romans with his Hedy-
phagetica. With the fourth century we have already entered a time of growing
polygraphy and so we see that Archestratus, too, was a representative of agente
in which mention must be made at least of Matro of Pitane with his Attic Meal
(Acimvov ’Arrixdv) and of Philoxenus of Leucas with his Deipnon. These
writings must not be simply termed Homer-parodies; the real stimulus was the
endeavour to test the old epic verse on subjects for which it was not really
created.
Chares’ trivial Maxims can give us an impression of some lower forms of the
literature of this time. His iambic aphorisms have even been found in an early
Ptolemaic papyrus (nr. 155 P.; D. Suppl. 13; Powell, Coll. Alex. 223). These
moral precepts in one-line verse have a certain affinity, in point of content, to
the prose-paraenesis of the Pseudo-Isocrates in the Address to Demonicus
(v. p. 554).
This stroll through the poetry of these decades was not over-enjoyable; we
did not catch anywhere the sound of true poetry which might touch our hearts
over the centuries, and the impression is forced upon us that this has not been
caused merely by the unkindness of the tradition. And so we listen with the
ereater delight when we hear the pure voice of ayoung woman, a voice of a sad
sweetness which knows how to express sorrow with a directness reminiscent of
Sappho. Only scanty pieces have been preserved of a poetess whose life itself re-
mained onlyafragment. Erinna of Telos, asmall island belonging to Rhodes, while
stilla young girl, lost her friend Baucis, who had followed a man in marriage.
The nineteen-year-old wrote toher frienda poem of sorrowand reminiscence and
died soon afterwards. We are indebted for this knowledge to a poet, Asclepiades,
of Samos, who paid homage to her in an epigram (Anth. Pal. 7. 11). Of the poem,
the Distaff (HAaxdrn) we only had some slight fragments, until a papyrus of
the first century B.c.' gave us a somewhat longer piece. The verses are badly
mutilated, and most of the modern emendations are, as is usual in such cases,
evidence of linguistic ability rather than reliable restoration. All the same the
remnants are sufficient for us to recognize the tenderness and vividness of the
art with which Erinna, thinking of her dead friend, evokes the images of their
games, work? and childish sorrows. It is difficult to associate this poem, which
is written in the Doric dialect with epic elements and comprises 300 hexameters,
with a definite genre. It would be called an elegy, if it had been written in
distichs; the use of hexameters suggest a description as epyllion. There is no need
to attach too great an importance to questions of this nature when discussing
true poetry, but it is of some significance that in the remnants of the Distaff we
find an anticipation of the delight of Hellenistic epyllia in depicting little scenes.
This agrees with the impression — it can hardly be more in view of the paucity
of the material preserved — that, in spite of the lyrical tone, the narrative is

* No. 263 P. and D. 1, fasc. 4, 207. Further bibl.: x. LaTTs, ‘Erinna’. Nachr. Ak. Gétt.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1953, 79. ¥. SCHEIDWEILER, ‘ Erinnas Klage um Baukis’. Phil. 100, 1956, 40.
P. MAAS’ attribution of Pap. Soc. It. 14, 1957, no. 1385 to Antimachus is still hypothetical.
* This may be connected with the title of the poem, which cannot be Erinna’s.
640
 THE FLOWERING OF THE GREEK CITY STATE

removed from older Greek lyrical poetry with its personal association. The
metre with its frequent use of bucolic diaeresis and dominant dactylic construc-
tion anticipates Hellenistic versification.
The Distaff established for the girl who died so young the name which she
deserved. Thus Meleager of Gadara inserted three poems by Erinna, when he
wove his garland of epigrams; one of these (Anth. Pal. 6. 352) praises the success-
ful painting of a girl, while the other two (Anth. Pal. 710. 712) are funeral
epigrams on her friend Baucis. A notice of the elder Pliny (34. 57) refers to a
poem which Erinna wrote, when a friend’s cicada and grasshopper had perished.
Later times were fond of many varieties of this sort of poetry.
The Propempticon for Baucis, of which verses have been preserved (fr. 2 D.)
is a forgery and according to Athenaeus (7. 283d) was recognized as such already
in antiquity.
What we have of Erinna also provides evidence of the cultivation and
spreading of the epigram; this is frequently corroborated by epigraphical
evidence.* Epigrams were composed for inscriptions as before, but in addition
they were current as a form of intimate literary art or as a means of polemic.
Thus, for instance, the pugnacious Theocritus of Chios, Theopompus’ opponent,
aired in this way his rancour against Hermeas and Aristotle. Poets of rank,
philosophers like Plato, and dilettanti, every one wrote epigrams. The cultiva-
tion of this genre reached its peak in the Hellenistic age; it will be discussed
further in the relevant section. The same applies to the writing of hymns,
which led a vigorous existence in the service of the various forms of worship.
We shall presently encounter some characteristic examples of it.3
t Cf. G. HERLINGER, Totenklage um Tiere in antiker Dichtung. Tiib. Beitr. 8, 1930. On the
misconception which is the basis of the notice in Pliny, wWILAMOWITZ (v. p. 639, n. 2), 10.
2 Some detail in WILAMOWITZ ¥. sup., 132. Cf. R. LAQUEUR, RE A 5, 1934, 2025.
3 Here it is enough to mention the survey in ALLEN-HALLIDAY-SIKES, The Homeric
Hymns. 2nd ed. Oxf. 1936, 89 f. of the introduction.

641
 (CHBONID
ARTE IR. N/A

The Hellenistic Age

A Athens

I NEW COMEDY

In the last century an event occurred of momentous influence in the history of

ideas. The idealized image of antiquity, as the new humanism had shaped it, was
challenged by the desire to grasp it historically in all its dimensions. One of the
most important stages in this development was the opening up of the Hellenistic
age by Johann Gustav Droysen (1808-84). One year after Goethe’s death he
demanded, in his first lecture, a treatment of antiquity as an historical phenome-
non, and in the same year appeared his Geschichte Alexanders des Grossen. With
two more volumes on the diadochi and the epigoni Droysen combined the
work into one Geschichte des Hellenismus.' It has long since been established that
the choice of this description for the time after Alexander is based on an error.
Droysen understood the ‘EAAyvioral of the Acts of the Apostles (6. 1) to be
orientalized Greeks and accordingly called the time which for him was
characterized by the blending of Greek with Oriental, the Hellenistic age. The
interpretation of the passage mentioned is not defensible, but it matters little
in view of the significance and range of Droysen’s achievement. Through this
achievement the road was opened to an understanding of an epoch which
unlocked for the Greeks new spaces and influences and which had a decisive
effect on the development of the West.
This mighty leap beyond the old frontiers of Greek life, this swift growth of
new economic and cultural centres will always be considered as the main
feature of the picture of the Hellenistic era. But in the homeland they still
dreamed the old dream of the splendour of the autonomous polis; though
historical reality belonged to the new kingdoms, plays were still performed for
the old gods, there were still poets and philosophers. It was a culture of a
personal nature which, remote from the great new cities, lived a quiet life but
one which in the first few decades after Alexander was still a very intensive one.
While we reserve the characteristics of the new world with its large proportions
for a later section, we shall first consider the achievements of the city which the
Pericles of Thucydides’ Funeral Oration had praised as an education for all
Greece.
Our study has frequently offered an opportunity to speak of the slackening
of the ties which had controlled the structure of the classical polis. We need only
‘ This was already the title of the two volumes on Diadochi and Epigoni (1836-43)?
which Droysen combined with the extensively revised first work under the same title in
1877.
642
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

to recall the sophists and the decline of political comedy. The process which
permitted individualism steadily to gain ground in the fourth century is con-
nected with this slackening, as is the dim realization among the best people of
the time of other, richer relationships. The individual suffered hardships, for the
struggle for life had increased in sharpness. The time of compensations allotted
by the state for attendance in assembly and court of law was past. This was now
considered to be the characteristic of an extreme democracy which was no
longer highly rated. Social contrasts sharpened. The poor wretch whose ideals
still were redemption of burdens and redistribution of land had difficulty in
ensuring a minimal existence in the face of falling wages and strong slave-
competition. On the other hand, there existed in the city a fairly large moneyed
class. The unlocking of the Orient brought with it considerable openings for
commerce, as in those territories the demand for Greek commodities was
great and in this manner much of the treasure of the East found its way to the
West. Industry succeeded in increasing its output through more rational tech-
niques with a larger number of slaves; bottomry loans and banking promised
large profits. Until about 280 the factors which promoted capital-formation
remained effective, but then it began to be seriously felt in the homeland that
the centres of economic life had definitely moved eastward. The money made
in the decades of the boom was largely invested in land as the best guarantee of
steady value. This circle of property-owners controlled what remained of the
public life of the polis in festivals, building activity and other local tasks. It is a
middle-class world with narrow limits. Gain and the security of gain dominate;
the great political decisions are made elsewhere and people are pleased when
they do not notice their effect. For who would hope for pleasure from the sport
of the great? Each individual with his circle created a world for himself with its
own wants, desires and passions. The picture which Athens in the time of the
diadochi presents is not an elevating one, and yet in this soil there grew a con-
ception of humanity and its dignity which we would not like to be without for
the very reason that it became of the greatest importance for the development
of humanism and with it for the culture of the West. It speaks to us most clearly
through Menander, the only poet of New Comedy of whom we have some
knowledge and who was its most important representative at the same time.
A Roman stone (Inscr. Gr. 14. 1184; now lost), which is our most important
source for Menander’s life besides the information of Suidas and the anonymous
Ilepi xwpwdcas, fixes the poet’s birth and death in the years 342/341 and 293/392,
according to the archon mentioned in the inscription. It is annoying that this
inscription, which also mentions his father Diopeithes and the deme Cephisia,
indicates the age reached by the poet as fifty-two. Kérte! has given an explana-
tion of this statement which is worth mentioning; according to him the number
of years is correct, while the year of his death was confused with that of the last
performance as stated by the Didascaliae. Menander would then have died
in 291/290.
The poet’s life coincides with one of the most troubled periods of ancient
1 RE (v. inf.). 709.
643
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

history. In his youth he witnessed the victories of Alexander which swept away
frontier after frontier. The information about his first performance is not
uniform, but he probably began his poetical career with the Orge in 321. At
that time the great conqueror had been dead for two years; in the previous year
Athens’ reach for freedom and power had ended with the defeat of her navy at
Amorgos; Munichia had had to accept a Macedonian garrison and Demosthenes
had taken poison in Calauria. When Cassander gained the upper hand in the
confused wars of the diadochi in the subsequent years, Athens also fell under
his sway. He appointed Demetrius of Phalerum, a pupil of Theophrastus’, as
epimeletes of the city; during his ten years of philosopher's rule (317-307) he
ensured order and internal peace. It is significant for the shifting ofthe intellectual
centres that this man whom we shall meet again as a versatile writer, went to
Egypt some time after his fall and participated in the first Ptolemies’ constructive
cultural programme. Menander’s intimacy with Demetrius was almost fatal for
him after his exile, but he was saved through personal connections (Diog. Laert.
5. 79). Demetrius Poliorcetes was now lord of Athens and the apparent freedom
which he permitted, was celebrated by the Athenians with extravagant rapture
as the restoration of the old greatness. The revival of the pan-Hellenic League of
Corinth, which Demetrius brought about at the Isthmian games of 302, proved
to be illusory in the next year, when on the battle-field of Ipsus the idea of
maintaining the realm of Alexander undivided came to an end. Athens could
preserve its sovereignty for another two years, but when Demetrius had
dispatched his business in Asia, he marched against the rebellious city which had
once erected gilt statues and sung odes to him. At that time Athens, ruled by the
energetical tyrant Lachares, resisted to the best of its ability, but it had to
capitulate early in 294. Thereupon, a few years before Menander’s death, Athens
was given garrisons on the Museum hill, in Munichia and the Piraeus, which
pulled a tight rein on the restless city.
It is of profound significance for the nature of the new comedy that so little
can be noticed in Menander’s plays of the endless chaos of the time. They have
been called a mirror of life, but unlike in Aristophanes’ comedies this life is not
political. Throughout the alternation of dreams of liberty and servility, during
the motley procession of rulers, Athens remained intellectually unchanged and
unimpregnable; at the time it did not yet administer its inexhaustible legacy
like a museum collection, but preserved it alive in its best citizens. Here Menan-
der took root. We already mentioned his friendship with Demetrius of Phalerum;
we may believe that both had been pupils of Theophrastus’. This raises at once
the question of the connection between Menander’s portrayal of people and the
Peripatetic’s Characters. If the charming opuscule with its lifelike mosaics was
written in 319, which can hardly be guaranteed,! it precedes the greater part of
Menander’s comedies; it also seems tempting that four titles (Agroecus, Apistus,
Disidaemon, Colax) correspond with characters of Theophrastus’. But closer
observation reveals Menander’s independence and warns against accepting him
as Theophrastus’ pupil in this sphere. The latter is more strongly inclined
1 Cf. 0. REGENBOGEN, RE S 7, 1940, ISI0.

644
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

toward the typical, adding individual features and especially recording devia-
tions from the norm. Nor should it be forgotten that delight and interest in
human peculiarity belong to the period and not to the individual poet.
Epicurus was born in the same year as Menander and there is evidence that
they went through their military service as ephebes together. It is therefore
natural to look for traces of Epicurean doctrine in the poet’s plays.’ It was
specially believed that this could be detected in the wisdom of Onesimus
(Epitr. 653=729 K6.) who denies the gods’ individual providence for man. But
Epicurus did not found his school in Athens until 306 and lived in Asia Minor
after his return from his year as ephebe. The ephebes may have exchanged many
ideas, but a lasting influence of Epicurus on Menander can hardly be credited.
Where connections between his ethical notions and contemporary philosophy
can be discerned, they lead to the Peripatos.?
Contemporary Athens with its immeasurable treasures in tradition and its
already somewhat over-ripe culture fascinated people of wit and sentiment in the
same way as the old European capitals do in our day. Thus Menander ignored
the tempting call of royal courts, whether it came from Egypt or Macedon
(Plin. Nat. Hist. 7. 111). In later times his loyalty to Athens found a most
charming expression in Alciphron’s two letters (4. 18 f.) in which this epistolo-
grapher of the Antonine period makes the poet and his beloved Glycera
exchange ideas about Ptolemy’s offer and the impossibility of an Athens without
Menander. His love for Glycera, also known to Martial and Athenaeus, has long
been considered as a genuine part of the poet’s biography. K6rte3 has correctly
stressed the slight reliability of this evidence. Since Menander wrote a Glycera
and also used the name elsewhere (Peric.), the basis for this invention may be
sought there. The information that the poet lost his life while bathing at Piraeus
does not sound fictitious.
We possess only a scant supply of dates of his poetical career. We do believe
that we can fix his first performance, the one of the Orge, with some confidence
at 321, but otherwise we have a firm date only for the Imbrii (301) through the
archon’s name in the Periochae,+ and possibly also for the Heniochus (312) through
the emendation of A. Wilhelm in a passage of the inscription of the Didascalia.5
For an appreciation of Menander’s development it is particularly important that
its didascalia revealed that the newly found Dyscolos was an early play of the
year 316. Allusions to contemporary events are rare as is typical of New Comedy
and even when they do occur they are not always as useful as the one in the
Periceiromene; the reference to the Corinthian troubles and the allusion to the
murder of Alexander, the son of Polyperchon (v. 89 ff.), point to a date soon
! M. POHLENZ, ‘M. und Epikur’. Herm. 78, 1943, 270. Rejected by N. w. DE WITT,
‘Epicurus and M.’. Stud. Norwood (Phenix Suppl. 1). Toronto 1952, 116. Otherwise P. w.
HARSH, Gnom. 25, 1953, 44, I.-
2 WEBSTER, Stud. in M. (v. inf.), 195; connection with Poetics: 175.
3 RE (v. inf.), 712 and Herm. 54, 1919, 87. On the comedy Glycera KORTE’S Menander-
edition 2, 42; the evidence for M.’s life and poetry ibid. 2, 1.
+ Pap. Ox. no. 1235=no. 1039 P. In KORTE’s edition 1. 149. V. qIO5.
5 IG II'lll, 2nd ed. 2323 a= Test. 27 Ko.
645
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

after 314 for the performance of this play. Only internal evidence can give
further help, but this does not produce irrefutable proof. There are many
indications that in the course of his career Menander’s art became more refined
and that he rejected grotesquely comic elements. Ancient literary criticism also
observed a development of the poet, as we learn from Plutarch (Aristoph. et Men.
compar. 853 f.); when one compares Menander’s early plays with his middle and
late ones, it can be estimated what the poet might have achieved if he had been
granted a longer life. Where we find similar subjects utilized it seems still
possible to observe parts of this development, for instance from the Perinthia to
the Andria, from the Colax to the Eunuchus. It agrees with what we said that
personal ridicule on a particularly large scale can be demonstrated from the
fragments of the very earliest play, the Orge of 321. Of course, it is no longer
the bitter attack of Old Comedy on leading politicians, but only fops and
parasites get an occasional cut. In this respect the custom of Middle Comedy is
obviously carried on; as in the latter, we also find occasional ridicule of philo-
sophers. In Menander’s time it was especially the Cynics who invited mockery;
and so he has a little romp with Crates in the Didymae (fr. 104 K6.) and with
Monimus in the Hippocomes (fr. 215 K6.). Middle Comedy had already become
quite mannerly compared with Old, and this goes even further in New Comedy.
But a blunt word or an obscene allusion in a servant’s mouth has not wholly
disappeared and it corresponds once more with the development indicated
earlier that this sort of thing occurs in the Periceiromene, which belongs to the
first decade of Menander’s career. In general, however, we shall not be able to
proceed beyond mere possibilities with chronological aids of this nature.! But
the Epitrepontes, with its lack of burlesque scenes, the decency of its speech and
the strong intensification of the action may be allotted to Menander’s last year,
The striking contrast with the more newly found play of Menander’s early
years will be shown presently.
We derive our knowledge of the poet from a variety of sources. Before the
beginning of the papyrus-finds we only possessed fragments from grammarians,
lexicographers and anthologies in Greek texts, quite a few in number, in the
most favourable cases groups of verse revealing a speech with a complete train
of thought, but never large enough to afford an insight into the dramatic con-
struction. Yet this stock was sufficient to enable Goethe to discern the charm
of this poet. He called it unattainable.? A peculiar tradition, largely pseudo-
tradition, is represented by Menander’s Maxims (Cv@uar Mevdv8pov), collec-
tions of single lines which have a long history. This kind of literature, which
must have flourished especially in the schools, came to the fore in the fourth
century, where Chares (v. p. 640) gives us a sample of it. Such collections,
which consisted of a motley mixture of lines of various poets combined with
new work, were continued into the Byzantine era. Heretofore, Euripides had
supplied a great deal for this purpose; later Menander proved to be a fertile
' This also applies to WEBSTER’S chronological survey (Stud. in M. 107 of the 1st ed.),
which utilizes all accessible aids for the dating.
? To Eckermann 12 May 1825, cf. 28 May 1827.
646
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

source. So it happened that such collections were put under his name as
Menander’s Maxims. In his collection of comic fragments Meineke has gathered
758 of such povdoriya. There is some genuine Menander among these, as is
proved by the occurrence of individual lines in other contexts. When such cor-
roboration is missing, the extraction of the genuine parts is a doubtful business.
Besides the fragments from the originals there were imitations of Menander
in Latin comedy. Of these Terence is the most fruitful, the dimidiatus Menander,
as Caesar called him. Of the six plays preserved the Andria, Heautontimorumenos,
Eunuchus and Adelphoe were modelled upon our poet. The figure of the father
who regrets his harshness towards his son and wishes to do penance through a
life of privation in the Heautontimorumenos, and the witty treatment of the
problem of education in the Adelphoe provide us with particularly valuable
samples of Menander’s portrayal of people. Since Terence replaced the informa-
tive prologue of the originals with introductory speeches to defend himself, he
could give us the information that he contaminated his originals with the
insertion of parts of other comedies. Thus the Andria contains a bit from the
Perinthia, in the Eunuchus there is one from the Colax and in the Adelphoe a scene
from the Synapothnescontes of Diphilus. He was impelled to do this by the desire
to increase the dramatic vigour. Now that we know something of the originals,
we can observe how much of Menander’s art Terence managed to conceal in
the Latin words. This largely holds good of the noble humanity and balance,
free from gloomy seriousness and tasteless hackwork, which so delighted the
Scipionic circle. How much was lost of linguistic artistry in the Latin imitation
is shown by Statius Caecilius, another poet of Latin Comedy who modelled
himself on Menander. Aulus Gellius (Noctes Att. 2. 23) has preserved for us a
portion of the comedy Plocion (fr. 333 K6.) with the Latin translation.
That Plautus borrowed far less frequently from Menander’s plays is connected
with the sturdier nature of his humour. All the same we can establish, as the
precursor of his Stichus, the first Adelphoe (Terence’s comedy was made after the
second play of this title) and as the one of the Bacchides the Double Cheater
(Ais e€aratav); we know that the Cistellaria goes back to an original of
Menander, but we cannot ascertain its title! With great confidence, founded
especially on the splendid portrayal of people, we also recognize Menander in
the Aulularia, the comedy of a poor devil driven half crazy through finding a
treasure-trove.” Finally it may be supposed that Menander’s Carchedonius was
the original for Poenulus.
© weEBsTER, Sind. in M. (v. inf.), 91 of the 1st ed. thinks with FRAENKEL of the Synaristosae.
2 Conjectures on the original in WEBSTER (v. sup.), 120. On the Menandrian character of
the play G. JACHMANN, Plautinisches und Attisches. Problemata 3. Berl. 1931, 128. On the
thematic relationship with the Dyscolos: w. Kraus, ‘Menanders Dyskolos und das Original
der Aulularia’. Serta Philologica Aenipontana. Innsbruck 1962, 185. Kraus emphasizes that it
is impossible to be sure of aGreek original, but that it was probably Menander’s Hydria. A
penetrating study of the structure of the Greek original by w. LupDwic, ‘Aulularia-Pro-
bleme’. Phil. 105, 1961, 44. 247. He concludes that Plautus generally adheres to the sequence
of scenes ofthe original. He also holds for certain that this was by Menander, as corroborated
strongly by the Dyscolos find. He rejects the Hydria as the title of the Greek play and reckons
with a supposed second Thesaurus and the Apistus (considered by Webster), but especially
647
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

It is far more difficult to detect traces of the original in the Plautine plays than
in Terence. Plautus’ recasting goes much deeper; he made the spoken plays of
New Comedy into musical comedies which aim at powerful farcical effects by
means of the most varied changes and additions. Also there is the question of
how far contamination spread in Plautus. Terence (Andr. 18) states expressly
that he did contaminate; but does this refer to the borrowing of single scenes
or did he combine whole plays? Certain German scholars, who laboriously
endeavoured to untie the Plautine knot, proceeded upon the latter assumption.
Nowadays a reaction, brought about chiefly by British scholars,! prefers to trace
the inconsistencies in the dramatic structure, which led to the hypotheses of
contamination, back to the Greek originals themselves. We deem ourselves
lucky in not having to engage in this struggle, but we believe that the reaction
is tending towards an extreme viewpoint. A structure like the Plautinian Stichus
cannot be properly considered to be a completely genuine translation of a work
of Menander’s, even assuming a great breadth of variety; the ending of the
Dyscolos should warn us to be extremely cautious in our criticism of the final
scene with the carousing slaves.
It was through the papyri (nos. 1019-1040 P.)? that we first acquired this
correct knowledge of Menander. The first was the Cairensis which Gustave
Lefébre found in Aphroditopolis, the modern K6m Esgawh, in 1905. Flavius
Dioscorus, an Egyptian lawyer and minor poet, had preserved a number of
deeds in a jar by plugging it with scrap paper. This was part of a papyrus-codex,
written in the fifth century a.p., and consisting of quires. The remnants of five
comedies can still be gleaned from the badly mixed-up tatters. Some belong to
a play of which we do not know the title;3 others to the Heros, the Epitrepontes,
the Periceiromene and the Samia. Further papyrus-finds have brought remnants
of some other plays. These permit us to recognize, at least for the Georgus,
essential features of the plot which in many of its motives resembles that of the
Heros, though it carried them through quite differently. Of one comedy without
a known title,t mostly called the Comoedia Florentina after the place of storage
of the papyrus, enough is available for a reconstruction to be attempted. We
also mention the Theophorumene’ because ofits rare subject; a girl is thrown into

with a Philargyrus. There is no corroboration for this title and so the whole matter is still
undecided. wEBsTER, Later Com. (v. inf.), 196 also considers originals by Menander for the
Pseudolus and Curculio.
' Thus w. BEARE, The Roman Stage. London 1950; WEBSTER, Stud. in M. (v. inf.); G. B.
DUCKWORTH, The Nature of Roman Comedy. Princeton 1952. W. H. FRIEDRICH, Euripides
und Diphilos. Zet. 5. Munich. 1953, inclines to this conception.
* There is also a largish fragment from a parchment codex of the 4th c. Antinoopolis Pap.
and ed. J. W. B. BARNS and H. zILLIACUuS. Lond. 1960, 8, printed with apparatus by H. J.
METTE in the end of his Dyscolos-ed. Gott. 1961, 60. It is likely that the lines are Menander’s
but K. LATTE, Gnom. 34, 1962, 152 has rejected the attempt to attribute them to the Misogynes.
3 A. KORTE, ‘M.’s fabula incerta’. Herm. 72, 1937, 50. :
+ WEBSTER, Stud. in M. (v. inf.), 146 (1st ed.) thinks of the ‘Eaurév wevOGv. E. ULBRICHT
Krit. u. exeg. Studien zu M. Diss. Leipz. 1933, 1, deals extensively with the Com. Hlorenting.
5 A. KORTE, ‘Zu M.’s Theoph.’. Herm. 70, 1935, 431. A. LESKY, ‘Die Theoph. und die
Biihne M.’s’. Herm. 72, 1937, 123.
648
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
a frenzy by the Great Mother, is suspected of pretence, but must have been
united with her lover in the happy ending. The scene in which the young man’s
father watches, together with a friend, the orgiastic dance of the ecstatic girl is
distinguishable from the remnants. Apart from this series of finds there is the
oldest literary papyrus to come to Europe, the Didot papyrus, which was found
in the Serapeum of Memphis as long ago as 1820. Further mention will be made
of it presently. Finally reference should be made to the Periochae of Menander’s
plays, of which in one papyrus (no. 1039 P.) considerable remnants of two
columns have been preserved. For the individual plays the contents followed
after the opening line together with Didascalian information; an appreciation
was added. The preserved section refers to the Hiereia and the Imbrii. According
to Suidas a certain Homerus Sellius wrote such Periochae. Our papyrus could be
from his book.
This was all that had survived, until the year 1959 produced the most
important addition to the poet’s work since the Cairensis with Victor Martin’s
publication of a papyrus of the Bibliotheca Bodmeriana of Cologny near
Geneva.' Ten leaves written on both sides and one recto of a papyrus codex of
the third century A.D.” contain Menander’s Dyscolos, from the hypothesis in
twelve trimeters, which pose as lines by Aristophanes of Byzantium, up to the
end, which proved to be identical with the adespoton fr. 616 K.3 The text,
marred by mistakes and hiatuses, is a copy of a model which was not always
completely understood. Some pages bear the ancient page numbering, the first
' In his meritorious pioneering edition (Papyrus Bodmer IV. Cologny-Geneva. Bibl.
Bodm. 1958; published March 1959) v. MARTIN immediately indicated the extensive philo-
logical labour which the bad transmission of the text was to demand. It started off directly
in such abundance that here only a selection of editions and studies can be given, and that
further reference must be made to bibliographies. One such is given by J. T. MCDONOUGH,
The Class. World (formerly The Class. Weekly) 53, 1960, 277; more Paideia 15, 1960, 327;
the collective work of the Univ. di Genova, Fac. di Lett.; Menandrea Miscellanea Philologica
(1960) contains G. BARABINO, ‘Saggio di bibliografia sul Dyscolos’; cf. further the special
report by F. STOESSL, Gymmn. 67, 1960, 204 and Gnom. 33, 1961, bibl. app. I. 7. Many refer-
ences in the ed. of J. MARTIN (v. inf.). We mention specially the comment. edition of w.
KRAUS, Sitzb. Ost. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 234/4, 1960. B. A. VAN GRONINGEN, Leiden 1960. J.
MARTIN, Paris 1961 (Erasmus. Coll. de textes grecs comm.); critical edition of the text: H.
LLOYD-JONES, Oxf. Class. Texts 1960. J. BINGEN, Leiden 1960. H. J. METTE, GOtt. 1960
(with verbal index); bilingual: w. kraus, Ziirich 1960 (Lebendige Antike). M. TREU, Munich
1960 (Tusculum). The following translations are mentioned: R. CANTARELLA, Urbino 1959.
B. wyss, Neue Rundschau 71, 1960, 39. PH. VELLACOTT, Lond. 1960. Special mention must
be made of the criticism of the play by rr. ZUCKER, ‘Ein neugefundenes griech. Drama’.
Sitzb. D. Ak. Berl. K1.f. Spr. Lit. u. Kunst. 1960/5. A summary of the criticism by B. A. VAN
GRONINGEN, ‘Le Dysc. de Mén. Etude crit. du texte.’ Verh. Nederl. Ak. Afd. Lett. N.R.
67/3. Amsterdam 1960. Best ed. now: £. W. HANDLEY, Lond. 1965.
2 vy. MARTIN thought the first half of the 3rd c., while ZUCKER (v. sup. 3), follows E. c.
TURNER, Bull. Inst. Class. Stud. Univ. Lond. 6, 1959, 64 with a date in the 4th c., w. KRAUS
(p. 10 of his critical ed.) bases his dating in the 3rd c. on records in the Ost. Nationalbiblio-
thek of the period 250-260 which were pointed out to him by H. HUNGER; they show
correspondence with the writing on one side of the codex which is of a different hand
though it is contemporary with the rest of the text, and compares extremely well with
datable records.
3 On this g. vocT, ‘Ein typischer Dramenschluss der Néa’. Rhein. Mus. 102, 1959, 192.
649
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the number 1. We are used to great many surprises from Tyche, but it seemed
too much to expect to find a play by Menander complete from the first to the
last letter. It is at least permissible for scholars to hope that in the course of time
something will turn up of what was on the preceding pages of the manuscript;
and their curiosity to know what is on the reverse side of the last leaf is quite
understandable. !
The hypothesis is followed by the didascalia, which, owing to the certain
alteration of the transmitted archontic name of Didymogenes into Demogenes,
gives the year 316 at whose Lenaea the play was performed. As the play opens,
Pan emerges from his shrine, a nymphs’ cave, and informs us that we are in
Phyle, a hill area in Attica. In the house on the right, the god tells us, lives
Cnemon, a veritable misanthrope. Once upon a time he married a widow who
had a son from her previous marriage, and who next gave birth to a baby girl.
But she could not bear to go on living with the insufferable fellow and now
shares a house with her son Gorgias and a faithful slave at the other side of the
shrine, while Cnemon lives with his daughter and an old maidservant, and
wrestles with the poor soil. The god feels pity for the girl who has grown up in
these uncongenial surroundings into a gentle and artless young woman, and so
he has arranged that Sostratus, the son of a well-to-do landowner, has seen the
girl while he was hunting and, as is the custom in such tales, immediately fell
in love with her.
After this informative prologue, which has not the usual place in Menander’s
plays following the first scene, the play begins with the entrance of Sostratus
and his parasite. It soon becomes clear that the latter’s boasting is not going to
be of much use to Sostratus in his love affair, when Sostratus’ huntsman, whom
he had sent out to reconnoitre, bursts in upon them and tells them of Cnemon’s
harsh reception; the parasite goes off on hearing this. It is going to be very
difficult to approach Cnemon, unless circumstances come to his assistance. And
this soon happens. Cnemon’s maid has dropped a pitcher into the well and now
the daughter goes to fetch water from the nymphs’ cave. This gives the
enamoured Sostratus the desired opportunity to approach the girl with the
greatest circumspection. Gorgias’ slave notices this with displeasure, for he is
suspicious of the fine young gentleman’s motives. After an interval with a
dance by worshippers of Pan, and probably with a song as well, the slave tells
Gorgias at the beginning of Act 2 what has happened. He suspects the worst of
Sostratus, but is soon persuaded of the latter’s honourable intentions and con-
cludes a friendship with him in anticipation of future family ties. Sostratus will
find it easier to approach Cnemon if he works on the field side by side with
Gorgias and takes his share in the digging. After the exit of the two allies some
servants of Sostratus’ family enter; they are going to prepare a sacrificial
banquet in the cave. The cook dominates the scene; pompous and inquisitive,
as is characteristic of the part, he finds out from one of the servants that a dream
of the mother’s is the cause of the sacrifice; she has dreamed that Pan chained her
' An indication of the beginning of the following play without title, hypothesis or
didascalia in v. MARTIN, Scriptorium 14, 1960, 3, 2.
650
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

son and made him dig up a field in working clothes. The third act brings first
the dramatic meeting of Cnemon with the cook and the servant, who wish to
borrow some utensils for the banquet in the cave, but they are sent away witha
snarl. We then learn that Sostratus’ trouble has been in vain, for he has not met
Cnemon in the field. Meanwhile matters are getting worse at the well; the old
maid has now also let fall in the pickaxe with which she wanted to get out the
pitcher, and Cnemon is in a rage. Now he has to go down the well himself.
How will this end? At the beginning of Act 4 we hear, of course, that he has
had an ugly fall and is badly injured. He is rescued by Gorgias, his stepson, with
whom he has never wanted to have anything to do. Sostratus relates how the
brave young man descended down the well-shaft while he himself held on to
the rope, more occupied with the crying girl than with the rescue. Then Cnemon
enters supported by his daughter and Gorgias and we hear his speech full of
profound understanding and noble decisions; man cannot go through life on his
own, he depends on those around; this has been shown him by Gorgias and his
action and he is now going to be his adopted son; he will take charge of the
small property and as his sister’s guardian he will find her a husband. This is
easily and quickly done, for Sostratus is already on the spot as a suitor. As it
turns out, he did not get sunburnt for nothing working in the field, for it even
evokes a word of approval from Cnemon. At the end of the act Callippides,
Sostratus’ father, enters and is sent into the cave to have something to eat first.
In Cnemon’s great scene and the betrothal following it the iambic trimeters are
replaced by trochaic tetrameters (708-763) which impart some pomp and
solemnity. This is in contrast with the Periceiromene (77-163) and the Samia
(202-270) where liveliness is aimed at.'
The fifth act is somewhat like an appendix. It appears that one wedding is
not enough. Sostratus manages to persuade his father to betroth his daughter,
Sostratus’ sister, to Gorgias. The latter’s opposition, caused by his pride, is over-
come, too. Then comes the most surprising aspect of this find, a burlesque
closing scene in which the cook and the slave who had been previously treated
so cavalierly by Cnemon, vent their anger on him now that he is defenceless.
They carry him out in front of the house, annoy him with questions which they
think up, but finally their vengeance does not go beyond dragging the old man
to join in the festive delights of the banquet. We had hardly expected such a
conclusion from Menander. His robust humour may have contributed to the
success of the play; Menander won one of his eight victories with the Dyscolos.
As we already indicated, no one can any longer deny with any confidence that
the slave’s carousal in the closing scene of Plautus’ Stichus corresponds with
Menander’s first Adelphoe, since this, too, like the Dyscolos, has the address to the
flute player. Walter Kraus* has shown that the elated atmosphere of the ending
of the Dyscolos with a wedding and a banquet belongs to a tradition which
goes back to the early days of comedy. The form of this closing scene is also
1 PR. ZUCKER (v. sup.), 9 has pointed out that in Euripides the trochaic tetrameter has the
same twofold character. Cf. FRANCA PERUSINO, ‘Tecnica ¢ stile nel tetrametro trocaico di
Menandro’. Riv. di cult. class. e med. 4, 1962, 3. a Crite edapa2h.
O51
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

a surprise. Lines 880 to 958 are iambic catalectic tetrameters, recited melo-
dramatically to the accompaniment of the flute. This metre is frequent in Old
Comedy, can be traced occasionally in Middle Comedy, but was so far unknown
in Menander.
This survey of the contents showed the simple structure of plot developing in
a straight line and beginning without a complex pre-history. If we compare this
with all that is supposed to have happened before the opening of the Epitrepontes,
and the suspense in the course of its plot, we observe some stages of a develop-
ment which illustrates Plutarch’s earlier-mentioned remark that from a com-
parison of Menander’s early with his later plays it can be estimated what he
might have achieved yet if he had lived longer. The construction of the Peri-
ceiromene is also considerably more artistic than that of the Dyscolos. So if the
dating of the former play in the period soon after 314 is correct, as we argued
earlier, we may observe that the development of this poet also did not follow
a straight course. But that was to be expected.
Though the dramatic structure of the Dyscolos may be simpler than that of
other plays, in the acute but loving observer of human foolishness and misery
the complete Menander can already be recognized. The figure of the mis-
anthropic, surly, lonely crank who makes life a burden for himself and others,
has literary ancestors. Even in Old Comedy we meet the Hermit (Movétpozos),
a play staged by Phrynichus in 414. In the Agrii by Pherecrates of 420 mis-
anthropy also played a part. In Middle Comedy there was a Dyscolos by Mnesi-
machus, but little is known about it. The figure of Cnemon is also an important
part of the tradition connected with Timon the misanthrope,! who already
appears with typical features in Old Comedy (in Phrynichus’ Monotropos and in
Birds, 1549). But in spite of his obligations to predecessors this Cnemon is
Menander’s own creation and still an impressive figure for moderns. Neither a
fool nor a criminal, experience has made him suspicious of the world and of
people. The social factor also plays an important part in this play, as it does
elsewhere in Menander. One figure in the play characterizes Cnemon in a
phrase which makes him a representative of a whole class (604): “He is a typical
Attic peasant. He struggles with the rocky soil which bears only thyme and sage.
He can sing a song of trouble and he reaps no good from it.’ Menander does
not, however, see Cnemon as a mere product of circumstance, for his stepson
Gorgias grew up in the same misery into a completely different man. The poet
is aware of the importance of man’s predisposition, which was ancient Greek
knowledge. And so, through Gorgias’ bearing, Cnemon comes to the awareness
that people need one another, but he is not going to alter his nature for that
reason any more than Sophocles’ Ajax — and this comparison is quite legitimate
— can cast off his own in spite of his awareness of the way of the world. And so,
even after his accident, he wants to remain alone; even the old maid must gO,
and Sostratus gives way before his unyielding character (tpéz0s dayos). But
this character could finally not cause evil: differences in social background break
' Shown by w. SCHMID, ‘Menanders Dyskolos und die Timonlegende’. Rhein. Mus.
102, 1959, 157.
652
 THE HERELENISTIC AGE

down before the young people’s happiness and these aspects reflect Menander’s
humane conception of the community of mankind, which was rooted strongly
in the Peripatos.!
The superior, but inoffensive, irony with which he observes mankind is also
a facet of Menander’s humanity. He puts Sostratus on the stage ready to tackle
his unaccustomed labours and ardently singing the praises of the girl whom he
has discovered here in the country; and then suddenly breaks down (390): ‘But
this mattock weighs four talents, it will kill me beforehand’. Thus emotion and
reality clash. And during the dramatic rescue it was the same Sostratus who, ac-
cording to his own speech, nearly dropped the old man into the well again three
times, because he had only eyes for the girl.* Although Menander knows man’s
passions, he never turns into a morose zealot, but he always retains the indulgent
smile of the ¢uAdvOpwos. He did this already when he was only 25 years old.
In order to show the dramatist’s development, as far as we know it, we shall
begin with the later of the two best preserved plays of the Cairensis. The
beginning of the Epitrepontes (suitably translated as the Arbitrators) shows us
an apparently hopeless situation. A young man called Charisius has married a
middle-class girl called Pamphile and has come to love her dearly. But when he
comes home from a voyage he had to undertake soon after the wedding
(voyages play an important part in the plot-mechanism of New Comedy), he
has to learn from the slave Onesimus that Pamphile has meanwhile given birth
to a child which has been exposed. Deeply hurt, he leaves his wife, retires to the
house of his friend Chaerestratus in the vicinity where he tries to forget his grief.
It is one of the finest features of the play that we are shown the uselessness of
his attempt and that thus the depth of his love in spite of his unhappiness is
demonstrated. He hires a harp-girl Habrotonon (if only Pamphile finds out!),
but in the course of the play we learn that he did not touch her. Here and else-
where Menander had grown beyond the carelessly masculine notion of sexual
matters which generally governed Greek life. Outwardly, however, Charisius’
goings-on have to give the impression of regular debauchery. Little wonder
that his father-in-law, old Smicrines, hurries along, a great deal more concerned
about the fine dowry than his daughter’s happiness. But before he can interfere
to establish order in his own way, he is stopped by an extraordinary incident.
Two slaves, the shepherd Daos and the charcoal-burner Syriscus, have fallen out
over a foundling. Daos has handed over the child, which was found exposed in
the forest, to Syriscus at the latter’s request, but wishes to keep for himself a few
objects which had been left as a means of recognition. Syriscus, however, as the
child’s representative, wants these, since it may be possible to find its parents
with the aid of these things. In accordance with ancient usage, the two want to
end their quarrel by means of arbitration. So, when they see old Smicrines
1 w. SCHMID (v. sup.), 170 and ‘Menanders Dyskolos, Timonlegende und Peripatos’,
Rhein. Mus. 102., 1959, 263.
2 L, STRZELECKI, ‘De Dyskolo Plautina’. Giorn. Ital. d. filol. 12, 1959, 305 has shown that
in his version Plautus made the scene into a canticum. The only definite fragment virgo sum;
nondum didici nupta verba dicere appears to indicate a duet, unless it must be assumed that
Sostratus is reporting what the girl said.
Y 653
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

approaching, they think that he is the right man for this purpose and present
their case to him in a quarrel-scene which is obviously inspired by the Euripidean
agon. Smicrines decides in favour of the foundling with whom the objects are
to remain, and so makes possible the solution of all the conflicts although he
does not realize this. For the baby who is the subject of the argument is his own
grandson, born of Pamphile and exposed by her because she was afraid. She
conceived it at the Tauropoliae, a nocturnal festival, when a young man in his
cups violated her. With the exposed child she left a ring which she had pulled
off the young man’s finger, all she could do in her distress. When Onesimus
enters, Syriscus is making a sort of inventory of the objects found and he
recognizes the ring as his master’s property. He is in a quandary, for Charisius
had hardly been grateful for his revelations and now he is to burn his fingers
again! Then the harp-girl Habrotonon, who remembers an incident at last
year’s Tauropoliae, comes to the assistance. If the ring is really his, Charisius
could be the young man who at the time raped the girl. So she takes the baby
and the ring to pretend to Charisius that she is the mother and thus to test her
suspicion. This trick is so successful that at first the confusion is considerably
increased. When Smicrines finds out that Habrotonon has a child of Charisius,
he is quite certain that in spite of all opposition he has to get Pamphile away
from this husband, while Charisius realizes the blame he has incurred. But
Pamphile and Habrotonon, who is holding the child, only have to meet once in
order to effect a recognition so that all troubles change into the greatest happi-
ness; the girl whom Charisius had wronged at the festival was no one but
Pamphile, who later became his wife. The child will now only strengthen the tie
between the two, though even at the worst moment it was never quite broken.
In the case of the Epitrepontes other finds came to the aid besides the Cairensis,
particularly a page from a parchment-codex of the fourth century a.D. which
Tischendorf discovered in the Catharine convent on Sinai in 1844, and which
Uspenski brought to St Petersburg in 1855. A second page of this manuscript
gave us a piece of the comedy Phasma. Before her marriage, a certain woman
gave birth to a girl who is now being reared in the neighbouring house. A wall
has been pierced and camouflaged as a shrine, permitting meetings of the
daughter with her mother, while the latter’s stepson believes he is seeing an
apparition (phasma) and falls violently in love. Donatus gives the contents in
his commentary to the prologue to Terence’s Eunuchus (9. 3). We know of
repeat-performances of the play in the years 250 and 167 B.c.; generally
Menander’s comedies were often replayed.
D. S. Robertson’ wished to insert the forty-four trimeters of the earlier-
mentioned Didot papyrus in the Epitrepontes.? A. Kértes has rendered it probable
™ Class. Rev. 36, 1922, 106; Herm. 61, 1926, 348.
. 2 CHR. JENSEN, Rhein. Mus. 76, 1927, 10 and ed. (v. inf.) XXVLis reserved on this question,
gives bibl. inform. in the passage quoted of his ed., but reveals his doubt. H. OPPERMANN
inserted the lines of the Didot manuscript in his ed. of the Epitrepontes, Frankf. a. M. 1953.
3 Herm. 61, 1926, 134. 350. D. L. PAGE, Lit. Pap. Lond. 1950, 180 (with bibl.) wishes to
keep open the possibility of attribution to a tragedy of the fourth century.; cf. also a-
BARIGAZZI, ‘Studi menandrei’. Athenaeum n.s. 33, 1955, 267.

654
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

that the lines given to Euripides by the papyrus belong actually to New Comedy
and to Menander. The speech of a woman who opposes her father and refuses
to leave her husband in misfortune corresponds in its general features with
Pamphile’s situation and with the words overheard by Charisius, but details like
her claim that her husband has always been of one mind with her, make the
ascription impossible.
The Periceiromene — one could translate this as the Shorn Woman — also starts
off with a situation in the worst possible confusion. The preliminary history of
the play, which takes place in Corinth, is even more complex than that of the
Epitrepontes. A poor woman has found exposed twins. Of these she left the boy
to the rich Myrrhine who wanted a child, while she reared the girl herself.
When Glycera had grown up, the old woman gave her to a high-ranking
officer, the chiliarch Polemon, to be his concubine. Before her death she revealed
everything to Glycera, also that Moschion in Myrrhine’s house was her brother.
Glycera keeps the secret in order not to distress her brother, who is enjoying the
life of a pampered young man of a rich family. But when Moschion, who lives
in the house next to hers, once kisses her on a rash impulse of love, she permits
him to do it because he is her brother. Unfortunately Polemon comes upon
them and cuts off her hair in a fit of wild jealousy. This was then considered to
be a humiliation. Glycera seeks refuge in Myrrhine’s house, to whom she now
reveals her secret. Polemon, deeply hurt, has retired to the country. Toward the
end of the plot there are all kinds of complications, as when the slave Daos lies
to his master Moschion that Myrrhine has taken Glycera into her house to
please him or when in a regular siege-scene, not the only one of its kind in New
Comedy, the refugee is to be taken from Myrrhine’s house. In the dénouement
Pataecus, a neighbour of Polemon and Myrrhine (so the stage shows three
houses'), plays a decisive part. It is difficult to place him in the plot, but
he definitely was not Myrrhine’s husband. At any rate he turns out to be
the father of the exposed twins. Now Glycera, who has forgiven her hot-
tempered Polemon, can marry him, but the lovelorn Moschion has acquired a
sister.
The preserved plays are only a small section of an uncommonly rich output.
The numbers handed down vary, but are without exception above 100;
according to Gellius (17. 4, 4, who also gives other information), Suidas and the
anonymous Ilepi kwpmdias, Menander wrote 108 comedies. We must repeat
what we observed for the poets of Middle Comedy, that an output of this
volume was no longer merely intended for the Athenian festivals but for the
whole world of Greek culture. We possess little of it, but it is enough to permit
us to understand Menander’s art.
New Comedy is a structure with a rich and varied background, in which two
centuries of dramatic genres have been preserved. It has appropriated the legacy
of Euripidean tragedy while on the other hand it is part of a tradition of comic
drama which leads via the classics of Old Comedy and Middle to the Hellenistic
1 Bibl. on the question of houses on the comedy stage in T. B. L. WEBSTER, Greek Theatre
Production, Lond. 1956, 24.
655
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

age. Over and above all this, the personality of individual poets should be borne
in mind; in the case of Menander we can still find out to a certain extent.
Let us begin with the external features, the themes and their technical con-
struction. Menander’s comedy is without exception middle-class comedy. We
know that other poets of New Comedy like Diphilus and Philemon occasion-
ally selected mythical subjects. Parody of myths had been a feature of Middle
Comedy, but obviously Menander did not find clowning of this nature to his
taste.' The samples of plots which we discussed showed us stock themes of
which we could add an extraordinary number of additional examples; violation
of a girl, exposure of children, recognition, often after many years, and cleverly
devised plots to overcome the difficult situations. It was already observed in
antiquity that most of this was prepared for in Euripides; Satyrus expresses it
clearly in his Euripides biography (nr. 1135 P.). The Epitrepontes offers a fine
example of how Euripidean themes, transferred into Menander’s middle-class
world, develop a new life of their own. If we may accept Hyginus’ 187th fabula
as the contents of Euripides’ Alope, which is extremely probable, this means
that the tragic poet already connected the story of an exposed child with a
controversy about the accompanying objects. Furthermore, in his account the
arbitrator was also the child’s grandfather, King Cercyon, Alope’s father. But
while in the tragedy the child was exposed a second time, Menander made the
arbitration the decisive instrument for a satisfactory solution. With the superior
freedom which is the hallmark of genius the poet himself points at these con-
nections; in the judgment-scene he makes the glib Syriscus parade examples
from tragedy which show how important such trinkets are for a foundling and
in one of the last scenes (v. 767 K6.) the nurse Sophrone threatens the sluggish
Smicrines, who still refuses to understand, that she will declaim a speech from
Euripides’ Auge. In this play, too, the violation of a girl by a drunk plays a
portentous part.
Menander was by no means the first to avail himself of themes tested in
tragedy. We can still distinguish this usage in Middle Comedy? and we learnt
(p. 448) that seduction and recognition occurred as themes in one of Aristo-
phanes’ last plays, the Cocalus.
How the legacy of tragedy was fused with that of comedy becomes clear in
a series of technical details.
The complex situation of Menander’s comedies demands a preparation of the
audience by means of an informative prologue. Figures like Tyche in the
Florentine Comedy, or Agnoia, personified unawareness, in the Periceiromene are,
of course, particularly suited for tasks of this nature, but it is by no means the
rule for Menander to use them, for the Phasma had no divine prologue and it is
quite improbable that the Epitrepontes had one. The affinity with the prologue-

' T. IVANOV, Une Mosaique romaine de Ulpia Oescus. Sofia 1954, publishes a mosaic of the
2nd/3rd century A.p. with a theatre scene which according to the note is supposed to be from
Menander’s Achaeans. This is questionable evidence which hardly enforces a revision of the
opinion that M. did not write travesties of myths.
2 WEBSTER, Later Com. (v. inf.), 74.
650
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
speeches of Euripidean tragedy is directly observable and becomes so even more,
when here and there we find indications of the future course of events. Besides
this we should not overlook the history of the form of comedy. Though the
material does not permit us to state this as a general rule, Menander is fond of
letting his prologues follow upon brisk opening-scenes which already show
some of the characters of the play and pique the interest. The Periceiromene offers
a good example, while the position of the prologue, spoken by Auxilium in
Plautus’ Cistellaria, must reflect the construction of the original. Such a late
position of the prologue, however, has its precursors in Aristophanes’ comedies.
We need only refer to the opening of the Equites in which, after a dialogue of the
two slaves, one asks (36), if he is now to tell the story to the audience and then
follows up with the complete tale. A further essential feature which is a legacy
of the comic play stands out clearly in the example mentioned. We mean the
direct address to the audience, the ever-present contact with the spectator which
reaches back to the early stages of literary comedy with its cheerful abuse of
individual and community. This contact with the audience was maintained
throughout in New Comedy. Apart from many other instances, we have
splendid evidence of this in the prologue which the Didot papyrus (v. supra)
presents as the second text. In this an enthusiastic young man speaks in ardent
words of his awakening through philosophy. (Presumably love spoilt this notion
for him in the further course of events.) He begins with the assurance that he is
entirely on his own and that no one can hear him. But then he addresses the
audience as a matter of course in the usual manner (avSpes).
The address to the audience is by no means restricted to the prologue alone,
it returns also in the numerous monologues within the play with which people
enter and leave the stage. In the majority of cases the monologue of New
Comedy, through its address to the audience, proves itself to be a descendant of
the technique which permitted the actor of Old Comedy to speak directly to the
audience at any moment. Of course, Menander’s monologues have a kinship
with tragedy as well. Here fine nuances can be detected. Charisius’ monologue
in the Epitrepontes, in which he remorsefully recognizes his wife’s love, would
be unthinkable, in view of its style, as an address to the audience. It is immediately
preceded by the monologue of the slave Onesimus, who fearfully reports the
excited behaviour of his master inside the house. This is a message for the
audience, who are addressed with avdpes (567 K.).
Once more this example demonstrates that in New Comedy various trends
of development converge. The servant who reports the peculiar behaviour of
someone inside the house, then making way for the latter, can be compared
both with the indignant slave in the Alcestis and Heracles’ action following this
story, and with Aristophanes’ Wasps, where Xanthias first describes the mad
goings-on of Philocleon, followed by the latter’s appearance in full splendour.
The audience-contact of the comic play is closely connected with the important
role of the aside which has remained a significant element of comedy ever after.
These glosses directed at the spectators are particularly favoured in scenes in
1 Asides are rare in Euripides. There may be some influence of comedy.
657
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

which a concealed listener accompanies a monologue or dialogue with his

remarks. New Comedy made this into a frequently used device for a lively
connection of scenes.
If we take the citizens’ chorus of both tragedy and comedy as the representa-
tives of the collective community, we understand why it lost its meaning under
the altered circumstances. This could be clearly traced in the last few comedies
of Aristophanes, while, on the other hand, tragedy had already allowed the
choral lyric to recede in favour of a more and more elaborately developed plot.
We mentioned earlier Aristotle’s observation (p. 412) that in Agathon the
choral songs were only insertions. Middle Comedy already revealed in what
forms this development came to its conclusion. New Comedy shows the same
condition. The chorus has been completely separated from the action, its song
and dance are a fill-in between acts, and in our texts! its rule is merely indicated
by the notice yopoé which we already found in Aristophanes’ Ecclesiazusae and
Plutus. In two cases (Epitr. 33, Per. 71, Dysc. 230. Comedy fragments in Antino-
opolis Pap. 2. 1960, 8. An example already in Alexis fr. 107 K.) its appearance is
announced as the entrance of a crowd of drunks. This must have been typical,
just as the masking of the chorus as a band of revellers, as a komos, which
recalls the Dionysian origin.
This regular division by the chorus justifies our speaking of acts. It is another
question whether we may accept for Menander the division into five acts which
Horace sets up as the norm (Ars poet. 189). Of the fragments preserved only those
of the Epitrepontes reveal the number of five acts. Now the completely pre-
served Dyscolus displays this division. W. Kraus? has pointed out that the number
of five acts already appears to be conventional here, as in this play the stage is
also emptied in other places which suit the end of an act. So even if we cannot
with certainty accept Horace’s rule for New Comedy, the likelihood of such an
assumption has been considerably increased.} Though it is probable, it also
remains a conjecture that the poet had more than three actors at his disposal.‘
Menander is a clever and careful dramatic constructor. An anecdote often
told has been handed down by Plutarch (De Gloria Athen. 4. 347 f.). The poet
is reminded of the fact that the Dionysia are near and that he has not yet writ-
ten the play due. But he answers that he has already organized the material,
and only has to write the verses for it. For all the excellence of his dramatic
technique we would certainly not agree with his admirer Aristophanes of
Byzantium who wanted to allot to him the second place among all the Greek
The passages in the verbal index in vol. 2 of KORTE’s ed. under yopod; cf. also K. J.
DOVER, Fifty Years of Class. Scholarship, Oxf. 1954, 116. Added are now the four interludes
of the Dyscolos (232, 426, 619, 783) and one in the comedy fragm. Antinoopolis Paper2.
1960, 8. 2 p. 13 of his ed.
* Opinions varied: KORTE, RE (v. inf.), 755 and wessTeR, Stud. in M. (v. inf.) 181.,
assumed five acts in New Comedy; opposition from w. BEARE, The Roman Stage. Lond.
1950, 188 and G. E. DUCKWORTH (cf. p. 648, n. 1), 99. The older arguments in G. BURCK-
HARDT, Die Akteinteilung in der neuen griech. und der rim. Kom. Diss. Basel 1927. R. T. WEIS-
sINGER, A Study of Act Divisions in Class. Drama. Iowa Stud. 9, 1940.
* KORTE (v. prev. n. 3). On the scene of the Misumenus important for this question:
WEBSTER, Stud. in M. (v. inf.), 19, 3 of the rst ed.
658
 THE HELLENESTUE AGE

poets.’ Menander maintains his high rank as an artist rather through his style
and portrayal of people.
Hardly ever at any time were verses written which remainedso completely
free of any trace of metrical coercion. The extraordinary richness in nuance of
this style, of which Quintilian with full justice admired the adaptability to age,
position and mood ofthe speaker (ro. 1, 69; 71), which is deployed with a
fascinating natural ease. He combines an extreme conciseness with the greatest
possible effect; each word has its special place. With all its directness and
actuality this style has a suppressed quality which we appreciate as an expression
of the resignation with which Menander observed the world and mankind. It is
the exception, and done for the sake of the effect, that in the recognition scene
in the Periceiromene the colloquial tone gives way to the tragic style. Menander’s
diction is full of the inimitable Attic charis, which in no way means purism in
the sense of the Atticists of imperial times. In many details, of which we only
refer to the disappearance of the difference between aorist and perfect, Koine
announces itself. The fact that Menander could not be considered a reliable
example of pure Attic, was harmful for his preservation in times when schools
set the fashion.
The image of life as drawn by Menander is a tissue of manifold threads. It is
the middle-class world of Athens with its narrow confines which we already
attempted to sketch in a few lines. It is controlled by a convention which allots
to people and things their fixed places. Young people’s marriages are arranged
by their parents, calculation playing an important part. Money is throughout the
great controlling agent. When one is ;
ast the tempests of youth, one clings to
one’s piece of property, unwilling to share the miserable fate of the poor, of
which much is heard in Menander’s verse. Some commotion is brought into
this life by the hetaera, but she, too, has her fixed place in the order of things.
Many of those who belong to her class aspire to escape from it into freedom, and
gain is here, too, mostly the goal. The soldier moves through this company in an
easier manner. He is always a mercenary and although he is fond of surrounding
himself with the splendour of great adventure, he, too, is mostly impelled by
considerations of a material nature, for booty provides the way to easy circum-
stances. But the citizen protects his world from being disturbed by the warrior
by unmasking him as a braggart whenever he can.
The lives of these people who have home, hearth and food could pass in
comfortable peace, if there were not a power which likes to throw people and
things into confusion and plays the oddest games with the fate of the individual.
The old faith has been challenged, the traditional forms remain on the surface,
superstition is rampant and avenges, as it does at all times, the past in the
rationalism of the present. Above all this hovers Tyche,? the quasi-religious

1 Epigram on a Herme JG 14, 1183 = Test. 61 c Ko.

2 The same stylisation in the anagnorisis of an anonymous comedy: no. 1304 P.; PAGE,
Lit. Pap. Lond. 1950, 310. Hardly to be understood as a parody.
3 On representations and cult M. P. NILSSON, Gesch. d. griech. Rel. 2, 2nd ed. Munich,
1961, 200.
659
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

power of the Hellenistic age. She no longer embodies a great destiny, filled with
divine forces, though lofty in its final unintelligibility, such as people face in
tragedy; it is the whimsical power which we find active in some of Euripides
last dramas in which it would be idle to look for a meaning. We need only to
recall the Epitrepontes to illustrate the meaning of Tyche for the plot of New
Comedy. It is not related to a well-defined concept. As characteristic for this
time as the belief in its control is the indefinite, fleeting character of the ideas
connected with her. Menander calls her blind (fr. 463 K6.)! agreeing with his
friend Demetrius of Phalerum who wrote On Tyche (fr. 79-81. 121 Wehrli).
On the other hand, it does not mean a great deal when someone, who has been
successful in every respect, wants to level this reproach at Tyche (Coneiaz. 13).
But at the end of the Comoedia Florentina Tyche presents herself as power in
whose hands is the control of things and indeed the happy ending of complex
stories does not agree with the government of a hopelessly blind power. Thus
there is one mention (fr. 417 Ké.) of Tyche’s intelligence, compared with
which human wit has no importance. Such contradictions may depend on the
situation of the speakers, but they testify in any case to the indistinctness of the
notions. When in the Epitrepontes (554 K6.) Habrotonon says to Pamphile that
one of the gods has taken pity on the couple, and in the Periceiromene Agnoia, a
close relation of Tyche herself (49 KS.) speaks of god who turns evil into good, it
becomes clear that the old faith maintains its title beside and within new ideas.
Nor are attempts lacking to dissolve Tyche into nothingness. We are reminded
of Zeus’ complaint at the beginning of the Odyssey, when one speaker reproaches
another for his accusations against Tyche (fr. 486 K6.); man himselfis guilty of
his misfortune. Another again denies Tyche as a person (fr. 486 K6.); he who
cannot bear what happens to him according to nature, calls his own character
(tpé7os) Tyche.
With this last passage we enter the sphere in which Menander’s art is dis-
played at its purest. When his admirer Aristophanes of Byzantium? praised him
with the witty question, who had really imitated the other, Menander life or
life the poet, he did not mean the faithful depictor of middle-class convention
or the inventor of complex plots, but above all else the great portrayer of
people. Menander received from the comic tradition many stock characters, as
enumerated, for instance, in the Florida (16) by Apuleius, but he made his
figures into more than types by giving them the richness of individual life and so
rose above Theophrastus, who gives in his Characters most subtly differentiated
types, but types all the same. It is, however, not only the acuteness of observation
and the faithfulness of the portrayal which brings Menander’s characters so
close to us. The best ofits effect comes from the conciliatory mildness of this
clairvoyant observer and his genuine faith in the possibility of goodness in people.
To make a type into a living individual does not mean a mere elaboration

' Passages on her capriciousness in A. KORTE, ‘Die Menschen M.’s’. Ber. Sachs. Ak. Phil.-
Mista NI. 80/35) 19375 TAs Ts
* Syrianus on Hermogenes 2, 23 RABE= Test. 32 KO.: & Mévardpe kal Bie, rérepos dip’
enaa oy:
UUDY TOTEpOV arrEpLUpLnoaTO,
660
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

of the former, but a far-reaching innovation. For all his rash nature, Polemon
in the Periceiromene has changed from a braggart soldier into an upright
and lovable person. His closest kinsman is Thrasonides (the name still has the
old typical ring) in the Misumenus who loves a captive girl without touching her
and through such generosity he earns her hand when she has been freed. A
figure like Habrotonon in the Epitrepontes, who in spite of her trade has her
head and heart in the right place, is the property of Menander.
In all the motley sport of Tyche, man’s nature remains an important and
often decisive factor. It has been correctly observed! that the events taking place
inside people often anticipate the outward happenings and thus create the basis
for the happy ending before this is brought about by external circumstances.
Thus Charisius in the Epitrepontes has earned the reunion with his wife through
the awareness of how small he is in his pride compared with his wife, who sticks
to him in spite of all her father’s urging. Polemon in the Periceiromene can obtain
the forgiveness and the hand of his Glycera, because he truly regrets his hot
temper. And how lovable Demeas in the Samia is in all his erring! In the course
of an extremely complex sequence of events and mistakes he has to believe that
his stepson Moschion has deceived him with the Samian Chrysis, his life’s
companion. His first anger has hardly passed away when he thinks up all reasons
imaginable to excuse the young man. Of course, Chrysis then has to experience
his anger, until everything turns out well. A humanity which does not shock
the world with great deeds but proves itself true to a noble conviction is now
considered to be the true manifestation of Greek nature. Thus in the Periceiro-
mene Pataecus says of Glycera that she has proved herself to be a true Greek with
her willingness to forgive (430 K6.).? Greek nature is the subtlest flower of
humanity; the old pride toward the barbarians has found a new expression
based on civilization and inner culture. But Menander is also aware of a human-
ism which reaches beyond these borders. In fragment 612 Ké. we hear words
which were certainly not contradicted in the course of the play. In a conversation
with his mother a son opposes ancestral pride and class-prejudice; not the place
of one’s birth is what matters, but the natural inclination toward the good,
which the Aethiopian or Scythian can also have. Similarly it is said (fr. 475 K6.):
no one is foreign to me if he is upright. All men are naturally equal, only
character creates individual differences. The first part of this is reminiscent of
the revolutionary statement made by Antiphon as an exponent of natural law
(v. p. 356), but is also closely akin to Menander’s best-known phrase (Ter.
Heaut. 77): homo sum: humani nil a me alienum puto. In the passage concerned
this fine phrase is supposed to serve as the justification of an inquisitive person.
It was not a new find, but a thought which readily sprang to mind. We rate
even higher the line with which Menander ennobled his work by the confession
1 R. HARDER, Die Antike 15, 1939, 71; now KI. Schr. Munich 1960, 247. K. BUCHNER,
‘Die Neue Kom.’. Lexis 2, 1949, 67; Rom. Lit. Gesch. Stuttg. 1957, 90.
2 More in WEBSTER, Stud. in M. (v. inf.), 21. 205, 5 of the rst ed.
3 An argument on the possibility of determining the original verse is recorded in POH-
LENZ, Herm. 78, 1943, 270. In add. F. DORNSEIFF, Herm. 78, 1943, 110. Neither fr. 475 Ko.
nor the monostich in Meineke FCG 4, 340, 1 are of account.
Vor) 661
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

that the image of true humanity, held up to us as the finest and highest task,
stands above all misery, confusion and passion. It is the fragment (484 Ko.)
which speaks of the magic of the man who is truly human. No translation can
do justice to the Greek: os yaplev €or dvOpwros, dv avopwrros 7.
For New Comedy, too, we know a considerable number of poets’ names —
sixty-four have been counted — but only in few cases can we get some idea of
their plays through Latin imitations. It is self-evident that Latin elements in
the transformation, especially in Plautus, make our judgment more difficult.
Ancient opinion ranked Philemon closest to Menander, fortasse impar, certe
aemulus, as Apuleius (Florida 16; cf. Quintil. 10. 1, 72) puts it. He was born in
Syracuse between 365 and 360, but acquired Athenian citizenship in 307/306
and belongs with his art at least to the tradition of the New Comedy which had
grown in Athens and was filled with the spirit of the city.! He left his adoptive
city for a time and stayed at the Ptolemaic court. There he seems to have written
his comedy Panegyris. Many stories were told (Plut. De ira 9. 458 a; De virt. Io.
449 c) of his return voyage during which he was supposed to have been driven
on to the shore by a gale which put him into the hands of King Magas of
Cyrene. This was unfortunate, since Philemon had held this man’s lack of
culture up to ridicule (fr. 144 K6.), but according to the story the insulted party
proved his magnanimity. The Marmor Parium is evidence for his first victory at
the Dionysia of 327, and the list of victors (IG I/III, 2nd ed. 2325), in which he
directly follows Menander, testifies to his threefold success at the Lenaea. The
above-mentioned Latin authors state that his contemporaries often preferred
him to Menander. Apuleius also knows a touching story of the poet’s death
(264/263); he died over a book while his audience was waiting for him.
The elements of New Comedy with which we became acquainted in Menan-
der, are practically all found in him; but his comedies also have titles like
Myrmidons and Palamedes, which indicate mythological subject-matter. As an apt
variant of the divine prologue he once (fr. 91 K.) casts in this role the air, which
is everywhere and sees everything. Of Plautine plays the Mercator was modelled
on Philemon’s Emporus and the Trinuwmmus on the Thesaurus, as Plautus himself
states in the prologues. We can with near certainty infer that Philemon’s Phasma
was the original for the Mostellaria.? As far as we can see, Philemon had excellent
control of dramatic technique and knew how to make sure of a thrilling and
surprising ending. This is contrasted by an inclination towards a broadly
moralizing tone. Philolaches’ entrance-monologue in the Phasma, which we can
derive from the corresponding canticum of the Mostellaria, is as excellent an
example of this as the Trinummus is as a whole.
Diphilus was not a native Athenian either; he was born at Sinope on the
Pontus between 360 and 350. He must have come to Athens early, in 340, if

' The Philemon of Soloe in Cyprus (Strabo 671 c) is another comic poet of this name.
* A number of other ascriptions (the early papyrus no 64 in Pace, Lit. Pap. Lond. 1950,
Captivi, Truculentus et al.) is still quite doubtful; cf. wessTER, Later Com. (v. inf.), 142. On
the evaluation of the Thesauros-Trinummus: F. ZUCKER, Freundschaftsbewahrung in der Neuen
attischen Komédie. Ber. Séchs. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 98/1. 1950.
662
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

we are permitted to believe that the stories told about his connections with the
hetaera Gnathaena are historical fact. He died early in the third century in
Smyrna, but had, together with his father Dion and his brother Diodorus, a
tomb in Athens of which we know the inscription (IG II/III, 2nd ed. 10321). In
his case, too, we find, besides many titles which indicate middle-class comedy,
some from the sphere of mythology as Danaids or Peliads. The names of a
Heracles, Theseus and Hecate we must, of course, attribute to the speakers of the
prologue, as this is certain after Menander’s example in the case of the Heros.
Diphilus also wrote one of the six comedies on Sappho which we know by
title.' Untroubled by chronology, he makes Archilochus and Hipponax appear
in it as the lovers of the poetess. Plautus recast the Clerumenoe in his Casina,
a play with an unknown title (Pera?) in the Rudens, and the Schedia in the
Vidularia.? Terence informs us in his prologue to the Adelphoe that Plautus also
used Diphilus’ Synapothnescontes in his Commorientes, but left a scene from the
beginning of the play unused which Terence inserted in his comedy. It is a scene
both roughly comic and at the same time wittily constructed, in which a pro-
curer abducts a girl and he himself is given a sound cuffing. Boisterous comedy
with disguises and thrashings is also found in the Casina, a play otherwise not
very enjoyable, in which father and son pursue the same girl, pretending to be
her servants. On the other hand, the Rudens has justly found its admirers. This
does not mean that the plot with its lovers, procurers and the girl recognized as
a middle-class daughter is unusually original, but its austere structure is given a
particular charm by the locale of the plot at the coast of the sea which, formally
one of the actors, causes the proper shipwreck, washes the proper trunk ashore
and wafts a piquant, salty breeze over the scenes. The fragments of the Vidularia,
also a trunk-comedy, show that it dealt with similar material.
It is not accidental that Terence translated, besides four plays by Menander,
two by Apollodorus of Carystus, the Epidicazomenus into Phormio and the
Hecyra with the same title. His affinity to Menander led him to a poet who con-
tinued Menander’s way in essential features, in the motivation from within the
characters, in the description of middle-class milieu and the utilization of
family-relations, though he could not compare with him. This Apollodorus is
to be distinguished from the comic poet Apollodorus of Gela, a contemporary
of Menander’s; he succeeds the latter by about a generation and is presumably
identical with the Apollodorus of Athens who, according to Suidas, wrote
forty-seven plays and won five victories. His style can be discerned especially in
the Hecyra, which deals with the material of Menandet’s Epitrepontes, but opens
up new aspects of the theme in the parts played by the parents of the young
couple. Taking the reunuciation of comic effect in addition, one observes the
development of the middle-class play at its end.
In the prologue of his Asinaria Plautus mentions as his original the Onagus of
a certain Demophilus who must not be forced into oblivion by being altered into
1 Cf. the index in KOck’s CAF.
2 WEBSTER, Later Com. (v. inf.), 173, considers ascription of the original of the Miles
Gloriosus to Diphilus.
663
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Diphilus.! The mediocre play in which money is cheated out of someone for
a girl and the lover’s father helps to further his own obscene purposes, belongs
in the third century, probably even to the second half.
A certain Posidippus of Cassandrea in Macedon — once more we observe the
wide area of penetration of Attic comic poetry of the time — was very successful
in Athens after Menander’s death and appears in Gellius (2. 23, 1) among the
sources of the Roman comic poets.? Philippides, an Attic author of the deme
Cephale, ventured to insert a political element into his plays and revealed the
undignified adulation with which many Athenians humiliated themselves.

For bibl. on the political and economic relations of the Hellenistic era we refer
to section VI B 1. For Athens: A. H. M. JONES, ‘The Social Structure of Athens
in the fourth century B.c.’ Econ. Hist. Rev. 8, 1955, 141. Bibl. on Menander
listed in the editions of JENSEN and KORTE (until 1938) as well as of ZUCKER,
Der Hellenismus in der deutschen Forschung 1938-1948. Wiesbaden 1956, 1, and in
CLAIRE PREAUX’s essay (v. infra). On the tradition: R. CANTARELLA, ‘Fata
Menandri’. Dioniso 17, 1954, 3. The papyri are elaborately described in JENSEN
and KORTE — Editions: CHR. JENSEN, Berl. 1929 on the basis of anew collation of
the Cairensis. A. KORTE 3rd ed. 1 (papyri), Leipz. 1938; new impression with
additions by A. THIERFELDER, Leipz. 1957; 2nd ed. 1959, 2 (fragments with
authors) published by A. THIERFELDER, Leipz. 1953; 2nd ed. aucta et corr. 1959.
J. M. EDMONDS, The Fragments of Attic Comedy. Ul. A. New Comedy, except
Menander. Anonymous Fragments of the Middle and New Comedies. Leiden 1961.
Il. B. New Comedy, Menander. Leiden 1961. Both volumes with translation into
English verse. It is very painful to have to state that this work cannot be credited.
In one work, ‘The Cairensis of M. by infra-red’, Stud. Norwood (Phoenix Suppl.
1) Toronto 1952, 127, EDMONDS had already published a group of new readings
which he claimed to have derived from the Cairensis by means of infra-red.
These were paginations, titles, stage directions, scholia and marginal as well as
interlinear paraphrases. Similar additions are now made to Menander in
EDMONDS’s Fragments. While much of this information is already incredible
per se, B. MARZULLO, ‘Il Cairense di M. agli infrarossi’, Rhein. Mus. 104, 1961,
224, has had to declare, after carrying out the most careful technical tests (226):
* On the problems of chronology T. B. L. WEBSTER, Studies in Later Comedy. Manchester
Un. Prvro9s3), 237.
* B. SIEGMANN, Lit. gr. Texte aus der Heidelb. Papyrussammlung. Heidelb. 1956, published
parts of the six last lines of Posidippus’ ’AzoxAecouevn as Pap. Heidelb. 183. They correspond
nearly verbatim with the two lines of the Menander fragment 616 K. which wILAMOWITZ
and, hesitantly, KORTE added at the end of the Epitrepontes, whereas now they have proved
to be the concluding lines of the Dyscolos. E. vor, ‘Ein stereotyper Dramenschluss der
Néa’. Rhein. Mus. 102, 1959, 192, recognizes here a réz0s which has its parallel in some of
the endings in Euripides. - We also mention Pap. Heidelb. 184 with 10 new fragments of
the unknown comedy, of which G. A. GERHARD, Griech. Pap. Diss. Heidelb. 1933, 40, had
already published five fragments.
3 Plut. Demetr. 12, 26.
064
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
I] risultato di ogni fotografia era totalmente negativo. Separate editions: Epitr.
WILAMOWITZ, Berl. 1925, with a section on Menander’s art. New impression
1958. Samia: J. M. EDMONDS, Cambr. 1951 (questionable). Dysc, v. p. 649,
n. 1. — A translation of the Epitr. by a. KORTE in the Inselverlag 1947. Samia —
Fragments transl. by w. MOREL: Gym. 65, 1958, 492. The translation of the
fragments by Gc. GOLDSCHMIDT, Ziirich 1949, is not satisfactory. With English
translation F. G. ALLINSON, Loeb Class. Libr. 1951. The translation La commedia
classica. Florence 1955, carried out by B. MARZULLO, extends from Epicharmus
to Menander. French translations in pRéAUX (v. infra) 85, 2. — Verbal index in
KORTE’ edition. — General works and discussions: &. FRAENKEL, Plautinisches im
Plautus. Berl. 1922, 374. A. KORTE, RE 15, 1931, 707. T. B. L. WEBSTER, Studies
in Menander. Manchester Un. Press. 1950. 2nd ed. t960. Id., Studies in Later
Greek Comedy. Manchester Un. Press 1953, 184. L. A. POST, From Homer to
Menander. Un. of Calif. Press 1951, 214. G. MEAUTIS, Le Crépuscule d’ Athenes et
Ménandre. Paris 1954. JULIANE STRAUS, Terenz und Menander. Beitrag zu einer
Stilvergleichung. Diss. Bern 1955. CLAIRE PREAUX, ‘Menandre et la société
athénienne’. Chronique d’Egypte 32, no. 63, 1957, 84. In add. to the works
mentioned there (p. 91, 2) on M.'s style: H. TEYKOWSKI, Der Prépositionsge-
brauch bei M. Diss. Bonn 1940. — Works on Attic law in prEAUX, 93, 2. - On
Diphilus: r. MARX, Comm. edition of the Rudens. Abh. Sachs. Ak. Phil. — hist.
Kl. 38/s, 1928. G. JACHMANN, Plautinisches und Attisches. Problemata 3. Berl.
1931, 3. W. H. FRIEDRICH, Euripides und Diphilos. Zet. 5. Munich. 1953. On
Philemon, Diphilus and Apollodorus: wessterR, Later Com. (v. supra) — The
fragments of New Comedy in TH. KOCK, Com. Att. Fragm. Vol. 2 and 3, Leipz.
1884 and 1888 (cf. on the work p. 637). In add.J.DEMIANCZUK, Suppl. comicum.
Krak6w 1912. 0. SCHROEDER Novae com. fragm. in papyris reperta exceptis
Menandreis. Bonn 1915. Some information with translation and comm. in
D. L. PAGE, Lit. Pap. Lond. 1950. On EDMONDS v. supra — T. B. L. WEBSTER,
Monuments illustrating New Comedy. Univ. of London. Inst. of Class. Stud. Bull.
Suppl. 11, 1961. — On the types of New Comedy cf. the bibl. quoted for Middle
Comedy (p. 637).

2, “ATTIC PROSE
To an age when Athens was reduced to a place outside the sphere of great
politics, the mythical and historical past of the city must have appeared neces-
sarily all the more glamorous. On the other hand, contemporary history up to
the consolidation of the new balance of power was so rich in strong personalities,
crises and hopes that it claimed a record of its own. This marks out the two
great fields to which the Atthidographers devoted their labour; the distribution
of importance and stress varied, of course. The first Atthidographer to be
mentioned after Phanodemus, with whom we concluded the earlier series (p. 628)
is the quite shadowy Melanthius (F Gr Hist 326). His date is uncertain, but
he may have been a contemporary of Philochorus. In addition to his Atthis in
at least two books he also wrote On the Eleusinian Mysteries; thus, like many of
his literary colleagues, he was particularly interested in religious matters.
665
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

For Demon (F Gr Hist 327) the year of the appearance of his Atthis, which
was, at any rate, quite a voluminous work, can also be only approximately
indicated. All the same we know that Philochorus wrote against him, so that
his date may be estimated at about 300. The frequency of this and similar names
among Demosthenes’ kinsmen permits the conjecture that he was a relative of
the orator; Jacoby thinks of a son of the Demon who acted as speaker in the
oration Against Zenothemis (cf. p. 598). Besides his Atthis Demon also wrote
On Sacrifices and On Proverbs; so he seems to evince the antiquarian interest
which subsequently called forth such a vast literature.
The most important and to us most intelligible figure among the Atthido-
graphers is Philochorus of Athens (F Gr Hist 328), though we do not know
a very great deal about his life. We may possibly place the date of his birth after
the middle of the fourth century. According to the evidence (T. 1. 2) he was a
seer, interpreter of sacrifices and exegete. Interests of this nature can also be
detected in titles of works and in fragments (F 67. 135).! Combined with the
observations which the fragments of his Afthis allow us to make, this indicates
that he had a conservative turn of mind. Without doubt he was inspired by the
ancient Athenian ideals which governed his attitude during the last attempts to
regain freedom and influence for the city. When Ptolemy II Philadelphus, in
alliance with Sparta and Athens, tried to break the Macedonian influence in the
Aegean, it was Philochorus who led the anti-Macedonian party. In 267 the
Chremonidean War broke out, which owes its name to a popular decree
moved by Chremonides.? Athens’ capitulation to the Macedonian besiegers was
its bitter conclusion (263/262). Suidas reports that Philochorus, suspected of
anti-Macedonian sentiments, fell a victim of an ambush (évedpevfeis) by
Antigonus Gonatas. This sounds quite vague and, if we may attach so much
importance to the wording, points to political murder rather than execution.
Nor can Philochorus’ end be with any success closely related with the events of
the war; in any case it occurred in the ‘sixties and probably at the end of that
period.
Suidas gives a list of twenty-one titles of works; other information increases
the number to twenty-seven.) Among them a large number of specialized
studies can be detected and it is most probably that these works preceded
Philochorus’ main work, the Afthis. There are monographs On the Tetrapolis,
On the Foundation of Salamis and On Delos. Individual titles like On Contests in
Athens, On the Mysteries in Athens testify to the bearing of these books on the
city and consequently we will be permitted to consider the writings On Divina-
tion, Sacrifices, Festivals, Days,* Purifications as having particular reference to
Athens. This tendency ofhis work is revealed especially in the Attic Inscriptions
* yacosy, F Gr Hist 3b (suppl.), Vol. 1, 1954, 235, has justly taken position against
Pera eee eee 1938, ee of an internal development which led Philo-

3 Clone ae BeSab ee 242. abe ere av one

* The fragments of the work (85-88) which comprised at least two books, indicate the
religious importance ofthe separate days. But also calendars in the meaning of the appendix
to Hesiod’s Works and the Orphic ‘Hpépac } ’Ednuepides probably occurred.
666
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
(Emypdupara *Arrixa), the first collection of this kind that we know of.
Something of the spirit of the Peripatos can be detected in this undertaking; the
treatise On Inventions (Ilepi edpydtewv), also dealt with a theme favoured in
that circle.
In some other books Philochorus contributed his share to the already extensive
literature about the tragedians. Heraclides Ponticus (Ilep! rv tpidv tpa-
ywdoromy) and Aristoxenus (Ilept tpaywdomowv) occupied themselves with
this subject; of Philochorus we know the title Treatise on Tragedies (Ilept
Tpaywdiav ovyypaya), On the Themes of Sophocles ((Ilept tv Sodowdéous
pvbwv, 5 books) and On Euripides. The Letter to Asclepiades (EmtotoAr) mpés
*"AoxAnmadny) belongs with these, since Philochorus in this way makes a
public attack against Asclepiades of Tragilus (F Gr Hist 12), the pupil of
Isocrates, who had been the first to discuss tragic themes in his Tragodumena. In
accordance with his general attitude the works of Philochorus mentioned
should be considered as having less of a grammatical bias than a historical and
antiquarian one. The form of the learned letter recurs in the Letter to Alypus.
Philochorus’ interests, however, were by no means restricted to Attica.
Evidence of this are two Pythagorean treatises, his contribution to the rich
Pythagorean literature of the time: On Symbola and Collection of Heroines or
Pythagorean Women. He also wrote On Alcman.
His main work was the Afthis in seventeen books, believed to have been
written in the late ‘nineties and ‘eighties. The different distribution of the material
in his treatment of the theme is significant of Philochorus’ interests. Books 1-6
certainly covered the period up to Chaeronea (338), possibly even as far as the
beginning of the rule of Demetrius of Phalerum (317). In this section he followed
the Atthis of Androtion, whom he esteemed as greatly as he disliked Demon
(T 1). The other eleven books dealt with the whole scope of contemporary
history up to Antiochus of Syria (T 1), though it cannot be decided whether the
second or the third Seleucid is meant. There is no foundation for the confidence
with which 262/261 is frequently stated as the final year of the work.! The
work was cast in the annalistic form. What we can still observe of his style points
to simplicity and clarity with an absence of rhetorical ornamentation and stylistic
pretence. Admittedly our verbal quotations come almost wholly from narrative
sections written in a chronicler’s manner.
In opposition to the romantic conception of the ‘last of the Attics’, Jacoby
placed the criticism of Philochorus on a new basis in his monumental study of
the Atthidographers. He has taught us to understand that the Athenian priest
and patriot was at the same time a scholar who should be taken seriously.
The man who conceals himself behind the obviously fictitious? name of
Amelesagoras (F Gr Hist 330) falls in a different category. The author of this
Atthis stepped forth with the claim that he had been inspired by the nymphs
and appears to anticipate a development which was already evident in

« When Suidas mentions an epitome of his own Afthis, this is probably a slip. Jacoby
(v. p. 666, n. 1), 256 dates the epitome at the end of the Ist century B.C.
2 yacosy, F Gr Hist 3 b (suppl.) Vol. 2, 1954, 488, n. 7.
667
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Phanodemus (p. 628) and which under such titles as *Arruxd, ‘loroptar’ Atrikat
led to a fictional presentation of the sparse tradition of ancient time.
We add here Ister the Callimachean (F Gr Hist 334) even though this pupil
of the great Cyrenaean was not an Athenian. In his ’"Arruca (at least fourteen
books), for which also the title Lwvaywy7) Tv >A7OiSwv has been handed down,
he presented a critical collection of the tradition of Attica’s pre-history, perhaps
up to Codrus. From the titles we can still trace a prolific literary production
with antiquarian interests by this writer, who found subjects from practically all
parts of the oecumene. Scholarship had become international. The cyclical
collection of large ranges of subjects — Ister also wrote Argolica and Eliaca — is as
typical as the collective Atacta, Symmicta, Hypomnemata, which are beginning to
become fashionable.
Jacoby justly opposed the opinion that Ister cut off the life-line of Atthido-
graphy with his collection. It ended as historiography with Philochorus and it
did end with him because the Chremonidean war put a period to Athens’ active
participation in contemporary events. But there was by no means a decrease in
interest in the religious and political institutions, for this interest had also been
quite active in Atthidography and had produced at its fringe such works as
On the Demes and On (Tomb-) Memorials by an otherwise unknown Diodorus
(F Gr Hist 372) who is dated in the time of Philochorus. Nicander of Thyatira
(F Gr Hist 343) also wrote on the demes but considerably later, not before the
end of the third century. The collections of decrees of Aristotle and his circle
also found imitators. Thus Demetrius of Phalerum wrote on Athenian con-
stitutions and his own legislation (fr. 139-147 Wehrli). An increasing number of
non-Athenians also began to devote interest and work to these subjects. A
significant example of this is the Collection of Decrees (Xvvaywyi) ta&v
Yndropatwv) which Craterus the Macedonian (F Gr Hist 342) published on
the basis of archive research, perhaps still in the time of the Peripatos.
One of the characteristics of the Hellenistic age is its lively interest in the
organisations of the cults, an interest, however, that was antiquarian and
historical rather than religious. In Athens there were particularly diligent
practitioners of this kind of literature, as is proved by a series of late-Hellenistic
authors: Ammonius (F Gr Hist 361) wrote On Altars and Sacrifices (Iept Bayar
Kat Avovwv), Crates (F Gr Hist 362) likewise On Athenian Sacrifices, Habron
(F Gr Hist 359) wrote a book On Festivals and Sacrifices, Apollonius (F Gr
Hist 365) one On the Athenian Festivals (Mept trOv *"A@ivnow €opTav).
But the antiquarian interest was not restricted to cults; the great families,
people ridiculed by comedy and not in the last place celebrated hetaerae were
subjects for writers. The desire to contribute to the interpretation of authors had,
of course, an important share in products of this sort. Entirely in the same line
of interest is the periegesis which could join on to the geographically oriented
periplus and periodos literature of the Ionians (v. p. 219), which in the Hellen-
istic age also developed a variant with historical interests. An early example of
such a travel-guide, obviously chiefly geographically oriented, is offered by the
Papyrus of Hawara (F Gr Hist 369; nr. 1708 P.). In the fragment preserved the
668
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

port of Athens is discussed; this does not, however, guarantee that the whole
work is concerned with Athens. Of course, there did exist a periegesis which
dealt exclusively with Athens. We know of a travel-book of this kind under the
double name of Callicrates-Menecles! (F Gr Hist 370). The share of Athenians
in such literature is slight; only the periegete Heliodorus (F Gr Hist 373) is
incontestably a son of Athens.
In Hellenistic Athens little was done in the way of historiography which went
beyond the city, but two names at least can be mentioned. Demochares (F Gr
Hist 75), a nephew of Demosthenes, whose vicissitudes were caused by his
participation in the city’s politics (he was exiled in the first decade of the third
century) wrote Historiae.* Diyllus (F Gr Hist 73), probably a son of the
Atthidographer Phanodemus, continued Ephorus’ work up to the year 297 in
his Hellenica.
Jacoby has discussed the Atthidographers within the framework of his F Gr
Hist, and especially thoroughly in 3 b Suppl. In add. his Atthis, Oxf. 1949.

fi tee BIOS
OP BRILCATAS YSTEMS

Although its political importance continued to dwindle, Athens could at least

maintain its central position in one region of intellectual life. No doubt philo-
sophy was also cultivated in other places at the time, no doubt not a few of the
most important philosophers who were working in Athens had come from
abroad, but Socrates’ city remained the centre in which the lines of force con-
verged and from which new ones went out.
Philosophy tended to move away from literature as belles-lettres to a much
greater extent than in the time of the first generation of Socratics. In compari-
son with Plato and Aristotle the development of thought took a turn which was
characteristic of the Hellenistic age. The aim of philosophy is no longer an
elevation to the vision of final and eternal things, nor knowledge gained for its
own sake; in this epoch of profound change and constant uncertainty, man
should rather be shown the way to individual happiness. All other themes of
thought are subordinated to the one goal. In accordance with this development
traditional literary forms are only occasionally used for teaching this type of
philosophy, and they are even more rarely the expression of genuine emotion.
The result is that a history of literature has to limit itself to surveying concisely
the main features of the period’s intellectual background.
We begin with the Cynics, because their critical attitude to the world — we
may by no means speak of a school — continued from Socraticism directly into
the Hellenistic age and gave a strong impetus to the most important of the new
systems, the Stoa. The most striking Cynic, the hero of numerous world-
spurning anecdotes, is Diogenes of Sinope, the Socrates gone mad (Diog. Laert.

« Perhaps a certain Menecles revised the older periegesis of a Callicrates.

2 We should like to know more about him, especially whether he influenced Duris of
Samos. Some interesting observations by A. MOMIGLIANO and K. v. FRITZ in: Histoire et
historiens dans l’antiquité. Fondation Hardt. Vandeeuvres-Geneva (1956) 1958, 140, 142. His
style seems to have been passionate, excited and aggressive.
669
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

6. 54), the snapping dog who thought it his vocation to revise all prevailing
values and to point the way back from the aberrations of a civilization over-
loaded with pretence to a healthy and unpretentious naturalness. He did not
spurn the written word and among his works there were also some tragedies
which were, of course, meant to be read rather than performed. His pupil,
Crates of Thebes, also wrote, but he was a much milder critic of society who
donated a considerable fortune to his city and went off on his Cynical wander-
ings. There was much amazement at the fact that Hipparchia, a girl of a dis-
tinguished family, the sister of his pupil Metrocles, became a companion on his
beggar’s journey. He wrote little satirical poems (za/yvua), and there were also
tragedies of his hand as of his master Diogenes. It almost goes without saying
that letters were forged under their names.
The most successful literary achievement of Cynic popular philosophy,
however, is the diatribe, the propaganda speech declaimed with sharp wit
and aggressive satire and enlivened with polemic in fictional dialogues. It is
connected with the name of Bion of Borysthenes, a freedman whose experience
in Athens decided his development. For some time he stayed at the court of the
Stoically-minded Macedonian king Antigonus Gonatas, who died before him
(239). Unfortunately a few titles and notes reveal to us no more than that his
diatribes attacked various kinds of passions and prejudices. To illustrate how
widespread their influence was it will be sufficient to recall that Horace (Ep.
2. 2, 60) speaks of satires with sharp wit as Bionei sermones. To stress the signi-
ficance of the Cynical diatribe as an important precursor of satire does not imply
a denial of the Romans’ original achievement in this realm. The spirit of this
aggressive protreptic can be traced somewhat better in the remnants of the
diatribes of Teles who was active in the middle of the third century. Stobaeus
has preserved them for us. Besides other Cynic commonplaces the fragments
reveal also an indifference to all ties with country and native town. A papyrus
published by Victor Martin' who dates it about the middle of the second
century A.D. gives a good idea of this widespread literature. It contains the report
about a conversation of Alexander the Great with the Indian sage Dandamis,
which is found as an insertion in Book 3, version A of the Alexander Romance
imputed to Callisthenes. According to Martin the passage contained in the
papyrus comes from a version which was closer to the original. It is followed
by the 7th letter? forged under Heraclitus’ name which has here been expanded
considerably. Both writings display the style of the diatribe, brisk and inclined
to brevity, both rail against the corruption of an over-refined civilization which
they contrast with the ideal of primitive naturalness. This genre was given a
special development, in which wit and fancy dominated over the didactic
tendency, by Menippus of Syrian Gadara, a former slave who became a well-
to-do Theban citizen. His writings filled thirteen books and attacked under the
most varying guises man’s foolishness as well as the systems of philosophers.
* “Un Recueil de diatribes cyniques. Pap. Gen. inv. 271°. Mus. Helv. 16, 1959, 77. Also
PENELOPE PHOTIADSS, ibid. 116 and J. TH. KAKRIDIS, ibid. 17, 1960, 34.
* HERCHER, Epistolographi Gr. Paris 1873, 283.
670
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

His Arcesilaus ridiculed the good cheer at the Academy, his Birth ofEpicurus the
personality-cult in the Garden. The Necyia assaulted the foolishness of the
traditional representations of life after death. Much of the spirit of this satire
recurred in Lucian touched up in the Atticist manner.! Menippus introduced
variety of form into his work by alternating prose and verse. The Romans
adopted this and developed the specific variety of their satura, in which connec-
tion mention must be made of Varro’s Saturae Menippeae, Petronius’ romance
and Seneca’s Apocolocyntosis.
Cynic criticism of the ways of the world and society also found its way into
various forms of a contemporary poetry with its commonplaces. In the third
century Phoenix of Colophon carried on an Ionian tradition with choliambs;
we met Hipponax of Ephesus as its early, one might almost say classic, repre-
sentative. In addition to smaller fragments like those from the Ninos, a poem on
the mythical glutton, we have a Heidelberg papyrus (no. 1265 P.) in choliambs
against the perversity of the rich.? Of Phoenix there survives a treasure of folk-
lore; itis a begging song which was sung going round with a crow (kopwviorat),
a fine example of this widespread genre.3
An iambic fragment (fr. 11 D) attacking gluttony has been preserved of
Cercidas of Megalopolis, who may possibly be identified with the statesman
and general in Polybius (2; 48. 65). Many scholars* also wished to assign to
Cercidas the choliambs against greed which we find in a London papyrus (no.
153 P. and no. 154) and in the Heidelberg papyrus mentioned in connection
with Phoenix, but this is unwarranted. We become acquainted with Cercidas
in his meliambs as a hearty sermonizer; he also stands out from the chorus of
these Cynical zealots by his powerful, Doric-tinted language. In an original
mixture of various metres he scolds the gods for the unjust distribution of
earthly goods, while in another poem he tells of the friendly or ruinous wind
which Eros can blow from his cheeks.
Here we can add Timon of Phlius, whose thought is influenced by Pyrrhon
of Elis, the prophet of scepticism.’ The quest for complete inner rest by con-
quering all false beliefs and idle attempts to gain knowledge affords many points
of contact with Cynical criticism of the world. Timon, who lived about 320-
230, described in a prose-work Python his career as an adherent of Pyrrhon;
in another, Arcesilaus’ Funeral Banquet (ApkeotAdov trepiderrvov) he deemed
the Academic, whom he had opposed earlier, worthy of honourable memory.
He wrote various kinds of dramas to be read, not for the stage. He was most
influential with his Silloi, satirical poems in which he followed the example of

The principal work is still R. HELM, Lukian und Menipp. Leipz. 1906.
2 For this and similar material G. A. GERHARD, Ph. von Kolophon. Leipz. 1909; the poem
mentioned in POWELL (see below, n. 4), 235, 6 and fasc. 3, 124 D.
3 I, RADERMACHER, Aristophanes’ Frésche. 2nd ed. Sitzb. Ost. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 198/4,
1954, 7:
4 Thus J. u. POWELL, Collectanea Alexandrina. Oxf. 1925, 213; 216. A. D. KNOX, The Firs
Greek Anthologist interpreted the Heidelberg papyrus as the remnant of an anthology edited
by Cercidas. The choliambs also fasc. 3, 131 D.
S Vv. BROCHARD, Les Sceptiques grecs. 2nd ed. Paris 1923.
671
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Xenophanes (v. p. 217). In three books in hexameters he told the story of a

tremendous battle of philosophers and then again of a journey into the under-
world in which the philosophers got their proper share of abuse. The Indalmoe!
in elegiac verse presumably dealt with Pyrrhon’s doctrine. Of course, poetry
of this nature could no longer address the people as a whole, but the interest in
the philosophers’ promises and their bitter quarrel was yet so great that there
was no lack of a fairly large audience.
The spirit of Cynicism proved to be considerably influential in the system
which was to acquire its greatest effect in the following centuries and to become
the ideological background for many Greeks and Romans. Zeno, the founder
of the Stoa, was born in 333/332? in Cition in Cyprus as the son of the merchant
Mnaseas; Cition was a Phoenician settlement and his father’s name is inter-
preted as the Hellenization of Phoenician Manasse or Menahem. These few
biographical observations indicate a controversial problem. To what extent are
Semitic elements influential in the doctrine of Zeno, who came to Athens in
312/311 and began to teach there in the Stoa Poikile in 301/300? Contrary to
Pohlenz} it is now assumed that the importance of such elements is slight; Zeno
received his intellectual training substantially from Greek thinkers; he heard the
Megarian Stilpon and the Academic Polemon, and especially the Cynic Crates;
with Diodorus, likewise a Megarian, and his pupil Philo,* he studied dialectic
and occupied himself thoroughly with the older philosophers.
The wide influence of the Stoa in future times was indicated by the large
number of pupils which flocked to it from the most different places and classes.
Among them was the last freedom-fighter Chremonides, as well as Antigonus
Gonatas, the later ruler of Macedon. This fact will have been taken into con-
sideration when the demos honoured the memory of Zeno, who died in the
autumn of 262, with the gold wreath and a state tomb in the Ceramicus,
although the psephisma (SCF 1. 75), which has been preserved, expresses
genuine reverence.
Zeno wrote early and a great deal. When he was still Crates’ student he
composed his Politeia.© He also wrote about the poets, presumably according
‘ ‘images’ in the sense of ‘illusions’ with reference to philosophical opinions of the schools?
2 On the biographical chronology: F. JacoBy, F Gr Hist 2 D. Comm. on F 244, Pe 737.
M. POHLENZ, Die Stoa 2, 2nd ed. Gott. 1955, 14.
3 Besides his book on the Stoa (v. inf.) POHLENZ esp. ‘Stoa und Semitismus’. N. Jahrb.
1926, 257. Against him £. scHWARTZ, Ethik der Griechen, Stuttg. 1951, 161 and 249, 13.
W. SCHMID, Der Hellenismus in der deutschen Forschung. 1938-1948. Wiesbaden 1956, 83. Yet
basically Pohlenz’ formulation of the problem is still correct; with some critical caution,
W. THEILER, Gnom. 23, 1951, 225, indicates that it is possible to explain the exaggerated con-
sistency of the Stoic doctrine from the origin of many Stoics.
* Some clever paradoxes are attributed to him, but presumably only the more precise ver-
sion is his at the most. On the so-called Adyos Kuprevwr (deductions from the tenet that
nothing impossible could result from the possible): a. N. PRIOR, Philos. Quart. 5, 1955, 205.
P.-M. SCHUHL, Le Dominateur et les possibles. Paris 1960. 0. BECKER, ‘Zur Rekonstruktion
des Kyrieuon Logos des Diodoros’. Festschrift Litt. 1960. (id. previously Rhein. Mus. 99,
1956, 289). K. V. FRITZ, Gnom. 34, 1962, 138.
5 The quotations according to the fragment-numbers in v. ARNIM (v. inf.).
6 Cf. POHLENZ, Stoa 2, and ed. Gott. 1955, 75.
672
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

to his philosophy; the register of his works (fr. 41) with which we have to be
satisfied apart from small remnants, mentions five books of Homeric problems.
Latterly it seemed as if the tradition of Zeno might be increased from two other
sources, but the yield is modest at best. A medieval philosopher Sakrastani, who
wrote in Arabic, copied in a passage on ancient philosophy dicta of various
authors like Homer, Solon, Hippocrates, and among these there are also some
of a certain Zeno. Since immediately before Zeno the Elder (ie. the Eleatic) is
mentioned, he is probably also the author of the sayings. F. Altheim and R.
Stiehl’ showed that it could also be the Stoic. But recently E. G. Schmidt?
examined the dicta attributed to Zeno critically; his criticism shows that the
relation with the Stoa is often very slight and in some cases completely absent.
Though he does not exclude the possibility of Stoic tradition in some cases,
Schmidt thinks that the Arabic sayings were put under Zeno’s name in late
antiquity or the early Middle Ages.
Other hopes, also realized in small measure only, were raised by four manu-
scripts in the government Matenadaran (manuscript-archives) in Jerewan.3
They contained one Old Armenian treatise of a philosophical content attributed
by two of these sources to a philosopher Zeno. It was first believed that Zeno’s
treatise On Nature (Ilepi dvcews) had been found in translation. A more
precise analysis+ demonstrated, however, that it was a late tractate, worked up
from many sources (Neoplatonic inter alia) which has only little bearing on
Stoicism. The most interesting part is the concluding passage with the tetrad
void-matter-motion-infinity. According to Dérrie the only Zeno who might
be considered would be Zeno of Pergamum, the pupil of Proclus. But it is
more likely that this cento was given the philosophical authority of the Stoic.
With this writing an excerpt from an Old Armenian doxography came to
light, containing doctrines of Plato, Aristotle and the Stoics. Some were
attributed to Zeno and this is genuine Stoic material, though it does not give us
anything new.
We know many names of pupils of Zeno’s. Persaeus, from his native town
Cition, was particularly close to him. When Antigonus Gonatas called Zeno to
Macedon, he sent as his representatives Persaeus and Philonides of Thebes.
Persaeus became the prince’s teacher and later commander of Corinth. There
he died when Aratus of Sicyon took the city in 243. Being a man who enjoyed
life, he wrote symposia (Lupzrotixa bropvypara), but also about the worship
of the gods and about the state of the Laconians. This was also an interest of
Sphaerus of Borysthenes, who was called to Sparta by Cleomenes in connection
with educational problems.
1 Forsch. U. Fortschr. 36, 1962, 12 with reference to earlier work by the scholars
mentioned. They first drew attention to these dicta of ZENO’s in Porphyrios und Empe-
dokles. Tiibingen 1954, 10, n. 12. 2 Forsch. U. Fortschr. 36, 1962, 372.
3 L. S. KHATSCHIKIAN, Der Bote aus dem Matenadaran 2, Jerewan, Publ. of the Acad. of
Science of the Armenian SSR 1950, 65. A Russian translation by s. AREFSCHATIAN, ibid. 3.
1936, 315. on
4 H. DORRIE, Gnom. 29, 1957, 445. E. G. SCHMIDT, Die altarmenische * Zenon’-Schrift. Abh.
D. Ak. Wiss. Berlin. Kl.f.Spr. Lit. u. Kunst 1960/2. 1961.
673
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Cleanthes of Assos, the place which at another time also had played its part
in the history of philosophy, was Zeno’s successor in the direction of the school.
Being a man of an upright character, he also gained the respect of his opponents
in the Academy. With great vigour of feeling he made Zeno’s doctrine his own
and found the finest expression for Stoic piety in his Hynin to Zeus.! Aeschylus’
splendid prayer in the Agamemnon (160), Euripides’ intense intellectual struggle
(Troad. 884) and this hymn praising, under the name of the father of the gods,
the Stoic universal god, the bearer of order and cosmic intelligence, impressively
represent three ways of Greek religious perception, all bound to Zeus’ name,
yet basically different.
Although he was the most winning personality among the older Stoics,
Cleanthes was not the man to give the school a solid centre and to carry Zeno’s
doctrine through against the attacks of the competing systems. Some serious
events occurred. Dionysius of Heraclea, who at home had also been a student
of Heraclides, turned his back upon the Stoa; Ariston of Chios who had a strong
influence as a lecturer, opposed any attempt at a positive evaluation of the
‘natural things’ such as health and prosperity and set himselfup as an independent
lecturer in the Cynosarges. Under his influence Herillus of Carthage also
detached himself from the main body of the school. In this situation Chrysippus
of Soloe in Cilicia, who was considered the new founder of the Stoa in antiquity
(Diog. Laert. 7. 183), intervened. Both for his birth and his death we can only
indicate the Olympiad: 281/277 and 208/204. Galen states that he learned
proper Greek in Athens, but he did not appreciate him (SVF 2. 24. 894). He
first attended the Academy, where he found a suitable cultivation of his intel-
lectual talents in dialectic. This schooling enabled him to write his six books
Against Customary Views (Kata tis ovvnfetas) in which he denied the
validity of our sense perceptions. It also enabled him, after his conversion to the
Stoa, to write seven books on the same subject (Ilepi ris cvvnfetas) from a
different point of view. But it was particularly this dialectical schooling which
placed Chrysippus in a position to set the Stoic doctrine on a new basis by means
of logical proofs, and to protect it from ruin through a carefully thought-out
development of the system. His lectures drew large crowds, so that he read in
the Lyceum in the open air. He is alleged to have written more than 705 works
(SVF 2. 1) but we should bear in mind the unreliability of such numbers.? We
have some idea of his work On the Soul (Hept puyijs) and the Therapeuticus
which summarized his doctrine of the emotions. He dealt particularly with two
central notions of the Stoa: On Providence (Ilepi mpovoias) and On Fate
(Ilept eiuappéevys).
To characterize the Stoa in a very general way, it may be stated that it com-
bined into one system various elements of a rich philosophical tradition; it was
neither consistent nor did it cover all details, but it supplied an excellent frame-
work for the rigorous ethical demands of the school. To no other of the older
' G. ZUNTZ, ‘Zum Kleanthes-Hymnus’. Harv. Stud. 63, 1958. (Jaeger-Festschr.), 289.
* A. MARIA COLOMBO, ‘Un nuovo frammento di Crisippo?’ La parola del passato 9, 1954
3.
370.

674
 THE HELLENISTIUCG) AGRE

philosophers does the Stoa owe so much as to Heraclitus. This becomes at once
evident, when we glance at the central idea of its system, the Logos,! from which
all else receives meaning and life. This Logos is the universal intelligence which
has created everything from itself and preserves everything; it is the Pronoia,
the controlling providence, but it is also the Heimarmene, the indestructible
chain of causes and effects which determines the course of things. Furthermore,
this Logos is the Physis, nature as the creative force and the eternal law active in
it. Above all this Logos is God. Beside it the anthropomorphism of the old
religion has no longer a place, but the Stoa concluded a clever peace with
popular religion by systematizing the old method of allegorical explanation?
and thus leaving a reservation for the multiplicity of the gods. We get a good
impression of such Stoic allegory from the Homeric Allegories (‘Opnpicd
mpoBAjara) of a certain Heraclitus who probably wrote in the first century
A.D. But the Stoic Logos is not pure spirit, but substance consisting of the most
refined form of the fiery aether. As Pneuma, as a warm breath, it pervades the
world and is present wherever there is form and life. Man has the most im-
portant share in it, and so remains separated from the animals by a wide abyss.
The controlling part of the soul, the hegemonikon as bearer of the intelligence,
is pure Logos, part of the divine universal fire. The old analogy, equally signi-
ficant in Greek as in Oriental thought, between macrocosmos and microcosmos?
was now expressed in its most lucid form: the cosmos as a whole is a living
being endowed with intelligence, a (@ov AoyiKdv, and so is the individual
human through his share in divine universal intelligence. Therefore the upward
glance at the macrocosmos, which displays the laws of its nature in the most
impressive form in the stars is a special theme of Stoic religiosity. In connection
with this the erect posture of the human body was considered to be a teleo-
logical proof of God’s existence. In this way the Stoa with the wide scope and
elasticity of its thought absorbed also a little of Hellenistic astrology into its
texture.
Zeno taught that Logos pervades the universe as the building material, as
honey the honeycomb (SVF 1, 155).4 Materiam mundialem a deo separat, says our
source and thus describes a dualistic factor in the properly speaking monistic
system which only knows of matter. Here appear the difficulties to which
Lactantius points in his criticism (SVF 2, 1041); the Stoics divided the universe
into one part which plans and executes and another which experiences the
effect; but both are matter and are supposed to form a unity. Quomodo potest
idem esse quod tractat et tractatur? Would it not be madness to call cask and cooper
the same things? The difficulties, upon which we can only touch here, are out-
weighed by rich gains. Antinomies which most profoundly moved Greek
™ On Heraclitus’ Logos cf. p. 212.
2 Cf. p. 209; 329 and BUFFIERE, Les Mythes d’ Homere et la pensée grecque. Paris 1956. Her a-
clitus’ work was published by the Bonner Philol. Gesellschaft. Leipz. 1910.
3 G. P. CONGER, Theories ofMacrocosmos and Microcosmos in the History of Philosophy. New
York 1922. H. HOMMEL, ‘Mikrokosmos’, Rhein Mus. 92, 1943, 56.
+ Heraclitus VS 22 B 67 is remotely comparable: God is in all opposites, but he changes
like fire which, when mixed with incense, is called after the scent of each.
675
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

thought are dissolved by the coincidence of the opposites. Nomos and Physis
are no longer opposed, for in nature and law the same Logos reigns. Positive
law and natural law cannot be truly contradictory, since positive law which can
lay claim to validity can only be initiated by legislators who act from their
understanding of the great universal law and on the basis of their share in the
divine universal intelligence.! But, above all, this conception of the universe
produces for the individual an ethical system without conflict, one which
knows of no compromise. It is man’s task to contribute to the firm rule of
Logos in the world by bringing his own moral actions into correspondence
with the great universal law which controls the cosmos, by repressing the
irrational impulses of passion. This is the meaning of the Stoic telos-formula
of the natural life: duodoyoupévws (7H fpvcer) CHv.2 Man acquires the stan-
dards of value given by Logos through Oikeiosis.* This difficult term, which
is only imperfectly rendered by ‘inclination’ or ‘sympathy’, means that every
living being places the things in his surroundings in a relationship to his own
existence, which is either useful or injurious. But for the man whose logos
develops in the time of his maturity, oikeiosis can only mean the correct
appreciation of Logos and submission to its law. The Stoics were inevitably
faced with a problem whose complete difficulty had not been grasped until
then and could no longer be put to rest; if everything that happens in the uni-
verse is decided by an unbroken chain of causes, by the Heimarmene in which
the Logos operates, where is then the scope for man’s free will, which is the
condition of all moral action and for all challenges involved?* Chrysippus, in
particular, struggled with this problem; he illustrates his conception by means
of a simile (SVF 2. 974, 1000) which specifies rather than removes the diffi-
culties: a roller needs a first push to roll while the actual cause of this movement
is due to its cylindrical form; in the same way the true cause for our decisions
is not in the external stimulus, but in our own freely chosen position. The notion
of synkatathesis is adduced here; as bearer of the Logos man is able to accept or
reject the impulses which are roused in him by the perception of his senses and
the images evoked by them. In Epist. 113. 18 Seneca represents the mechanism
of Stoic philosophy with Latin terseness; we take the liberty of inserting the
Greek terms in the text: Omne rationale animal nihil agit, nisi primum specie
alicuius rei inritatum est (pavracia), deinde impetum cepit (6pur), deinde adsensio
(vyKardbeo.s) confirmavit hunc impetum.
Even though he tends to simplify somewhat in chapter 32 of his Life of
Coriolanus, Plutarch shows here how at that time Homet’s epics were also
examined from such points of view regarding the possibilities of human
1 a, LESKY, ‘Zum Gesetzbegriff der Stoa’. Osterr. Zeitschr.f.off. Recht. 2, 1950, 587.
2 The addition 77 dvce. originated by Cleanthes. On the changes of the telos-formula
Pohlenz in Die Stoa (v. sup.). Cf. 0. RIETH, Gnom. 16, 1940, 109.
3 In opposition to F. Dirlmeier’s attribution of the oikeiosis-doctrine to Theophrastus
(Phil. Suppl. 30, 1937) POHLENZ, Stoa 2, 65, with bibl. In add. H. LEISEGANG, Phil. Woch-
enschr. 62, 1942, 424. In agreement with this 0. REGENBOGEN, RE S 7) LOAO 1555363)
* Max Pohlenz dealt with these questions in his work about the Stoa (v. inf.), and in his
book Griechische Freiheit. Heidelberg 1955, 131.
676
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

free will and how Homer was defended with the assistance of Stoic categories.!
Every human being, Greek or barbarian, free or slave, is endowed with
senses. This fact removed age-old barriers for the Stoic. When the cosmo-
politanism of the Stoics, for whom the whole world now means home, enters
into such radical opposition to the polis-bound thought of the past, the parallel
of this change of thought with the historical event of the forming of the great
kingdoms cannot be overlooked. Stoic cosmopolitanism, however, does not
lead to the renunciation of the individual state, which under the prevailing
historical conditions offers the most suitable framework for a demonstration of
public spirit, for justice and for the love of mankind, without imposing strict
limits on them.
Its ethics? are no doubt the main point of the Stoic doctrine. It is not possible
to go into its logic? and physics here, but mention should be made of two things
at least. Zeno rightly included linguistic expression in the realm of logic and
to that extent made a substantial contribution to the foundation of western
grammar.* A great many terms still in use go back to the Stoics. They established
a tradition which passed via the school of Antiochus of Ascalon finally to
Varro and from him to Augustine. The other endeavours of the Stoics, especially
of Chrysippus, who were mainly concerned with hypothetical conclusions,
remained comparatively in the background.
Of Stoic physics’ we single out the doctrine of ecpyrosis. The universe,
which the divine Logos has created from itself, returns, after the expiration of a
cosmic period, to the unity of the original condition of fire. From there it once
more begins its way to the separation of the elements and the multiplicity of
things. Since this expiration is always accomplished according to the same
universal law of Heimarmene, the eternal return of the same things is guaranteed
by this law down to the last detail.
After Chrysippus there followed in the Stoa a time of traditionalism and
defence against attacks, which emanated particularly from the Academy. In the
second century B.C. we can trace a collection of essays of the Stoic Hecaton in
which Zeno was also represented.® A revival is connected with the person of
' 4. LESKY, Géttliche und menschliche Motivation im homerischen Epos. Sitzb. Ak. Heidelberg’
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1961/4, 18.
2 O. LUSCHNAT, ‘Das Problem des ethischen Fortschrittes in der alten Stoa’. Phil. 102,
1958, 178, with bibl. on Stoic ethics.
3 0. BECKER, Zwei Untersuchungen zur antiken Logik. Wiesbaden 1957 (in the 2nd part
on the Stoa; the so-called §éara, i.e. secondary rules, are also dealt with here). J. MAU,
‘Stoische Logik’, Herm. 85, 1957, 147. BENSON MATES, Stoic Logic. Lond. 1961.
+ M. POHLENZ, ‘Die Begriindung der abendlindischen Sprachlehre durch die Stoa’. GGN
Phil.-hist. Kl. Fachgr. 1 NF 3/6. 1939. K. BARWICK, Probleme der stoischen Sprachlehre und
Rhetorik. Abh. Ak. Leipzig. Phil.-hist. Kl. 49/3, 1957 (with contribution about the Stoic part
in the development of the doctrine of tropes and figures). H. DAHLMANN, Varro und die
hellenistische Sprachtheorie. Problemata 5. Berl. 1932.
5 5, SAMBURSKY, Physics of the Stoics. Lond. 1959, restores Stoic physics to a place of some
honour.
6 Cf. Diog. Laert. 7. 1, 26. On the importance ofthe information of Persaeus and Hecaton
for our knowledge of Zeno: u. v. WILAMOWITZ, Antigonos von Karystos. Phil. Unt. 4, 1881,
108.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Panaetius of Rhodes. The impetus which went out from him was so strong that
some moderns have made him the initiator of the ‘middle Stoa’.! This is
neither an ancient expression nor a complete school of thought; nevertheless an
important epoch in the history of the Stoa can be defined in this manner.
Panaetius, a descendant of old Rhodian nobility, was born in Lindos in 185.
He had a chequered career which took him from Rhodes to Rome and Athens,
where, in his fifties, he joined the Stoa under Diogenes of Babylon.? In 129,
after the death of Antipater of Tarsus he undertook the direction of the school,
ending his life in the beginning of the first century. In Rome the young Rhodian
aristocrat was admitted to the leading circle; he won the friendship of Scipio and
Laelius and it was largely due to his contribution that the new rulers of the
world adopted the Stoic notion oflife. It is significant that Panaetius’ main work
which he wrote with one eye on Rome, bears the title On Duty (Ilept rod
xabxxovros). According to his own evidence Cicero largely followed Panaetius
in his work De Officiis (3. 7).
The great influence which Panaetius exerted is due to the fact that he largely
broke down the rigorous and doctrinaire attitude of the older Stoa; more open
to the world, he took into account its realities and those of human nature.
Under him a new stream of students flocked in from all parts of the inhabited
world. Among these was also the Rhodian Stratocles who wrote a history of the
Stoa,3 a work which was repeated some time after him by Apollonius of Tyre.
But the most important pupil of Panaetius was Posidonius of Apamea. As a
young man he left the Syrian city in which he was born in 135, to study in
Athens where Panaetius opened the intellectual world of the Stoa to him. Like
his teacher he visited Rome and like him he gained access to the houses of the
old nobility. The long journeys which he undertook in the tradition of ancient
Ionian toropty must have taken place in the years of his manhood. His know-
ledge of Asia Minor may be partly due to his origin; that of the western world
he acquired entirely as a discoverer. We can still sense the vivid interest with
which he roamed through Gaul from Massalia and through Spain. Everything
came within the scope of his enquiries, Celtic ways of life, the tides of the ocean,
Spanish silver mines, their rich yield but also the outrages committed upon slave
labour there, troops of apes on the north coast of Africa. He then turned teacher
and settled in Rhodes, which at the time combined economic activity with a
rich intellectual life. He maintained an active connection with Rome which sent
him many students. Cicero became familiar with him during his Rhodian
sojourn (77). When Pompey established order in the East he visited Posidonius
on the way out and on his victorious return home. There were many edifying
anecdotes about the veneration for intellect of those in power. The fact that
Posidonius devoted a monograph to Pompey obviously inspired Cicero’s desire
for a similar memorial. He sent the philosopher a record of his political

' A. SCHMEKEL, Die Philosophie der Mittleren Stoa. Berl. 1892.

* In 155 Diogenes took part in the Philosophers’ Embassy to Rome, in which Carneades
represented the Academy, and Critolaus the Peripatos.
3 Extract in the Index Stoicorum, Pap. Herc. 1018.
678
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
achievements with the request to have the material cast in an artistic form. But
Posidonius declined; the bulkiness of the consignment did not encourage but
deterred him from writing. In this homage we detect the subtle irony of the
man who also in other respects knew how to make his point. Rhodes, which
granted him citizenship, sent him to Rome in 86 where he negotiated with
Marius, who was dangerously ill. Suidas knows of another voyage to Rome in
the year st in which Rhodes and Rome renewed their treaty. He died in the
same year.
We know more than two dozen book titles of Posidonius,! which show that
he was a scientist as well as a philosopher (epi dkeavod Kal tOv Kar’ addr,
Ilept petrewpav, epi rod 2Atov peyébovs) and a historian. Besides the
History of Pompey already mentioned, he dealt with the period of 145/144 until
some time after the conclusion of peace between Sulla and Mithridates (85) ina
gigantic work of fifty-two books (‘Ioropia 4) wera ToAvBiov).
Posidonius had an important, although sometimes exaggerated, influence on
ancient intellectual life. The endeavour to comprehend him as an investigator
and thinker has become a major problem of classical scholarship, whose history
Karl Reinhardt has traced with admirable objectivity.? For a long time the
image of Posidonius developed in P. Corssen’s dissertation? was current; it was
mainly based on Cicero, Tusc. 1, and on Somnium Scipionis; its elaboration by
A. Schmekel + and others made of Posidonius a mystic follower of Pythagorean
and Platonic ideas. In an entirely new approach Reinhardt5 questioned the
reliability of this assumption and examined Posidonius’ ‘inner form’, basing
himself on the larger fragments. Since his formulation there have been an old
and a new Posidonius, but the discussion of the philosopher in Pohlenz’s book
on the Stoa has led to a gratifying mutual approach of the two views. Work on
Posidonius is not nearly finished. Olof Gigon® even argues that it should be
started afresh. He thinks that Reinhardt’s selection of Strabo as a starting-point
was very useful, but that he left the basis of what could be achieved with some
certainty too rashly for the sake of building up hypotheses. This basis is pro-
vided, apart from Strabo, by Galen, Cleomedes, Seneca’s Nat. Quaest. and
Diodorus 33-37.7 Careful corroboration must provide a basis for all future
work. We exclude the controversial points (usefulness of Tusc. t, Posidonian

1 In REINHARDT, RE 22, 1953, 567. SNA, Sil, ghey

3 De P. Rhodio Ciceronis in primo libro Tusc. et in Somnio Scipionis auctore. Boun 1878. Cf.
id. Rhein. Mus. 36, 1881, 506. AGH oh GfSlabs le
5 Poseidonios. Munich 1921. Kosmos und Sympathie. Munich 1926. P. tiber Ursprung und
Entartung. Orient u. Antike 6. Heidelb. 1928. Now the great RE article.
6 Arch.f.Gesch. d. Philos. 44, 1962, 92.
7 A lively controversy has sprung up around the question whether the account of the
pre-history of the world and of human civilization in Diodorus 1, 7f. goes back to Posi-
donius. G. PFLIGERSDORFFER, Studien zu Poseidonios. Sitzb. Ost. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 232/s,
1959, argues that it does. A different line is taken by w. SPOERRI, Spathellenistische Berichte iiber
Welt, Kultur und Gétter. Schw. Beitr. z. Altertumswiss. 9. Basel 1959; he opposes Pfligersdorffer
in Mus. Helv. 18, 1961, 63. O. GIGON (v. sup. 97) may have called a temporary halt to the
argument; he argues that there is no definite proof, but that attribution to Posidonius is most
likely.
679
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

origin of the syndesmos-representation of man as the link between the sphere of

the celestial and that of the earthly, Panaetius or Posidonius in Cicero, De nat.
deor. 2. t15 ff.) and restrict ourselves to some few basic features. In spite of all
his independence of thought Posidonius retained the foundation of the Stoic
Logos-doctrine, but as an ethnologist," geographer and historian, as a scientist
whose interests embraced all the stages of existence, he drew the most diverse
branches of knowledge into the scope of this doctrine. Less stress is placed on
ethics and even less on logic in our sources, which is probably no coincidence,
since they are fairly representative. What gives him his special significance is
that he overcame a long-established separation and combined once more
philosophy into a unity with the scientific disciplines. He had secured the rich
legacy of Greek thought and met the unending variety of the phenomena of
culture and nature with an open mind, but through the idea of sympathy this
Stoic combined everything into a unity with himself; heaven and earth and
generally all parts of the cosmos are seen in relations which pass influences from
one to the other. Divination could also maintain itself on this basis.
Posidonius was a vitalist who found a profusion of variously graded forces
active in the universe, from rocks to the animate stars and who, as an aetiologist,
enquired in all fields after the impact and effect of the dynamically conceived
Logos. Along the same line Posidonius believed — following Panaetius in this —
that there was a compulsion active in man which is not a degeneration, but a
natural condition. His high duty, wholly Stoically seen, is to be always guided
by the Logos.
Posidonius took over the ancient telos-formula of the Stoics and elaborated
it at the same time significantly.” It seems likely, though it is not certain that we
read the text in Clement of Alexandria (Strom. 2. 129, 4): 70 Civ Pewpodvra
THY TOV oAwY aAnbevav KQL Taéw Kal ovyKataoKkevalovTa avrny KATO. TO

duvardv. It is a Stoic axiom that as bearer of the Logos man has access to the
truth and order manifested in the universe; but here the synthesis of the vita
contemplativa and activa is remarkable; it is still a majestic conception that man
should be participating in the realization of the great order according to his
powers. The further phrase kara pndev aydpevos td Tod aAdyou fépous
THs Yuy7is contains both a recognition of the Alogon in the soul as a fact and a
demand for its subordination to the Logos.
Posidonius’ eschatology should at least be briefly touched upon. For him the
soul is an emanation of the sun which he considered as the heart of the cosmos,
although not its centre in the meaning of Aristarchus. As the soul descends to
earth by way of the moon, so it returns there along the same way. All details
here are difficult and uncertain, but we can at least observe that Posidonius has
abandoned the position of the older Stoa and also of Panaetius. The soul comes
neither into being only at the birth of man, nor does it perish at his death; it is
of a sunlike origin and maintains, within certain limits, an existence of its own.
‘J. J. TIRNEY, The Celtic Ethnography of Poseidonios. Proc. of the Royal Irish Acad. 60/C/s,
1900.
* Valuable indication for the interpretation in Gigon, v. sup. 96.
680
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

Neither Panaetius nor Posidonius decided the character of the Stoa for the
future; their thought had followed too individual a course. Plenty of names of
Stoics for this epoch have been handed down, but little can be said of men like
Mnesarchus and Dardanus who undertook the direction of the school after
Panaetius. We can distinguish a number of Stoics who lived in Rome as teachers
or in the houses of the leading men. Thus we find Diodotus with Cicero; with
Cato Uticensis, who himself became a great model of the Stoic attitude,
Antipater of Tyre and Athenodorus of Tarsus, while with Areus Didymus we
have already arrived in the time of Augustus whose court-philosopher he
was.
No less momentous and powerful an influence than that of the Porch was
achieved, over wide spaces of time, by the system which was brought to new life
by Lucretius in his poem De Rerum Natura, and by Pierre Gassendi through his
work. Its founder Epicurus was born in Samos as the son of the Athenian
Neocles in 341. Since his father lived in the island as an Athenian migrant, he
was a citizen of Athens; and so he performed his military service there in 323. We
met him earlier as a fellow-ephebe of Menander’s. At the time he had already
completed some years of philosophical study which he mainly passed in Teos
with Nausiphanes (VS 75). The latter revealed to him Democritus’ atomic
theory which was later to become the foundation of his own system. After his
training as ephebe Epicurus did not return to Samos since meanwhile the Athen-
ian settlers had been expelled. Years of a wandering life followed which led him
to Colophon, Mytilene and Lampsacus. At an early stage the strong influence of
his personality proved itself, which obviously combined delight in his doctrine
with the training of people. He made friends in the cities mentioned, beginning
his philosophical teaching in Mytilene in 310 and continuing it in Lampsacus.
In the summer of 306 he returned to Athens, the ancient home of his family.
There he acquired the garden in which he taught and after which his followers
were called ‘philosophers of the garden’. He died in Athens in 270, revered by
his followers as a divine being.
This man whose influence rested to a large extent on the charm of his
personality, also put the written word with great diligence into the service of
his teaching. His literary legacy comprised about three hundred rolls, of which
thirty-seven belonged to his work On Nature (Hepi ¢vcews). Only brief
reference can be made to some of the numerous other titles; the work on a
theory of knowledge On Criteria with the sub-title Norm ([epi xpitypiou 7)
xavev), the ethical writings On the Highest Good (Ilepi réAous), On Just Action
(Ilepi duxarompayias), On Living (Ilepi Biov) and the book On Rhetoric
(Ilepi pyropixfjs), which banned this educational system from the realm of
philosophy.
None of the works mentioned has been preserved, and what we possess by
Epicurus himself is little enough. For the sake of their contents Diogenes
Laertius inserted three of his letters, of which there were collections, in the
tenth book of his work. The Letter to Herodotus deals with physics in the broadest
sense; the one To Pythocles, which we may probably leave to Epicurus in spite
681
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

of earlier doubts, is concerned with meteorology while the one To Menoeceus

examines ethical and theological questions.
Epicurus tried to facilitate access to his doctrine by means of extracts from
his own works and the coining of aphorisms. A collection of forty such maxims
(K¥prae 5d€ax) has also been preserved by Diogenes. While Epicurus renounced
artistic form in continuous writing, his skill at expressive terseness 1s proved in
these sayings. It is understandable that there were collections of Epicurean
maxims besides the Kyriai Doxai; such a one (Gnomologium Vaticanum) with
eighty-one maxims about ethics and conduct was found in a Vatican manu-
script (Vat. Gr. 1950, 14th c.) in the last century. What we have at our disposal
is scanty enough in comparison with Epicurus’ work, even when we add his
last will, preserved by Diogenes. But in the case of Epicurus, a source-situation
both original and bristling with problems permits a completion of the picture
of his doctrine in many ways. Of Greek texts we have, in addition to Diogenes
Laertius’ contributions, first of all the papyri of Herculaneum. Inside a villa
which probably belonged to Piso, the carbonized rolls of a library with mainly
Epicurean texts have been found; the author of the greater part of these is
Philodemus of Gadara. This Epicurean, in Athens a pupil of Zeno of Sidon,
came to Italy in the seventh decade of the first century B.c. and there became
the friend and personal philosopher of the L. Calpurnius Piso whom we know
as Caesar’s father-in-law and Cicero’s opponent. In his younger years Philo-
demus wrote epigrams which were excellent in form, but largely frivolous in
content; we have several of them.! They also had some influence on Latin
love-poetry. Next to Siron, the teacher of Vergil, Philodemus became the
leader of the Epicurean circle in Italy which had its centre in Naples. We may
assume that he personally knew Vergil and Horace, who mentions him in
Serm. 1. 2, 120. Cicero had a genuine appreciation of him, however little he
may have liked Piso.
Philodemus was a prolific author, although the Herculanean rolls give us only
a limited impression of his numerous works.* Besides writings on logic and
thetoric which defend philosophy in the spirit of Epicureanism against the
pretensions of the teachers of rhetoric, there are treatises on poetry and music.
Ethics and theology claim their place; in addition there are works on the history
of philosophy, diatribes and dialogues written for a wider audience.‘
Not all the rolls have yet been read, but even those which have been laborious-
ly processed yield only sparse remnants of the writings which they once con-
tained. The work on the Herculanensia is one of the most difficult tasks of
classical scholarship. It is, however, worth while because of the very fact that
' G. KAIBEL, Ind. lect. Greifsw. 1885, is still authoritative. Texts: Anth. Pal. B. 5-7, 9-12
and 16.
> W. LIEBICH, Aufbau, Absicht und Form der Pragmateiae Philodems. Berlin-Steglitz 1960.
* A. J. NEUBECKER, Die Bewertung der Musik bei Stoikern und Epikureern. Eine Analyse von
Philodems Schrift De musica. Berlin 1956 (D. Ak. Inst. f. gr.-rém. Altertumskunde. Arbeits-
gruppe f. hellenistisch-rém. Philos. 5).
4 The title (Philodemus is not always mentioned as the author) and the editions in
Philippson’s article RE 19, 2444. In add. the editions of Schmid and Diano listed inf.
682
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

Philodemus was not an independent philosophical thinker and is therefore

quite useful as a witness for the tradition of the system of the school. The
remnants are, of course, particularly valuable, when they use Epicurus’ own
words. Thus we owe to them the fragment on the problem of free will from
the work On Nature, the most significant fragment we have of it.! For Epicurus’
ethics another papyrus from Herculaneum? is important since it contains general
outlines. Characteristic for the problems connected with the texts is the argu-
ment in which sometimes Epicurus is called the author, then again Philodemus
or some older Epicurean.
The lengthy inscription which Diogenes of Oenoanda in Lycia had inscribed
for the citizens of his city in A.D. 2003 is a curious witness of the extent of
Epicurus’ following. It combines sections of Epicurus’ doctrine with aphorisms
and two letters, one of which was composed by the originator of the inscrip-
tion. Plutarch’s polemics against Epicurus and Colotes should also be added to
the Greek sources. Of the Romans Lucretius has given us the most elabo-
rate representation of the Epicurean doctrine. Friedrich Klingner* admirably
demonstrates that in this great poem a passionate temperament has pervaded
the doctrine of the soul at peace with a pugnacious spirit. Cicero’s philosophical
writings are also important, especially De Natura Deorum, and it may be assumed
that Seneca utilized a collection of Epicurean maxims.
Epicurus’ doctrine demonstrates particularly clearly how great a change had
come over Greek philosophical thought since Socrates. The aim is no longer
knowledge sought for its own sake; the final purpose of this philosophy is a
form of living which ensures man of the greatest share of attainable happiness.
Only from the aim itself can it be understood how utterly Epicurus’ whole
system is directed toward it. This aim is the complete peace of soul secure both
from threat and temptation — Epicureans are fond of comparing it with the
quiet of the sea. In this Epicureanism meets its arch-enemy, the Stoa, half-way.
For Epicurus also uncontrolled passions are the great adversaries of human
happiness. He declared war especially against fear which with its wrathful and
vindictive gods, its superstitious interpretations of the phenomena of nature and
threatening notions of life after death, never permits man to draw a quiet
breath. For the sake of this battle Lucretius praised him as the great hero and
conqueror.
It is only in this context that Epicurus’ physics and theology become impor-
tant; they are not investigations for their own sake but instruments in the battle
against traditional religion. Democritus’ doctrine which admitted nothing but
empty space and atoms was the appropriate foundation for an interpretation of
the universe without fear of the irrational. Epicurus altered Democritus’ doctrine
t Pap. Herc. 1056. 967. 1191. Now in Diano’s edition (v. inf.); cf. WOLFG. SCHMID, Gnom.
27, 1955, 406. Addenda to Book 14 of Iepi ddcews. WOLFG. SCHMID, Rhein. Mus. 92, 1944, 44.
2 Pap. Herc. 1251. SCHMID’S edition v. inf. Id., Der Hellenismus (v. p. 672, n. 3), 78 with
bibl. and survey of the suggestions on the problem of authorship.
3 A, GRILLI, Diogenis Oenoandensis fragmenta. Milan-Varese 1960 (Testi e documenti per lo
studio dell’ antichita 2).
+ Rom. Geisteswelt 4th ed. Munich 1961, 191.
683
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

in that he set certain limits to the number of the forms of atoms and the direction
of their movement. The atoms cannot be beyond a size which excludes their
visibility, and they move through space in a perpendicular direction of fall. In
order to explain the origin of universes, Epicurus needed the fatal parenclisis, a
slight deviation of individual atoms from their direction which led to combina-
tions and forming of clusters. The cause of this phenomenon is not looked
for.
The soul is an atomic structure like everything else and perishes at death,
which need not be feared as it is an absolute disintegration. The gods are also
atomic structures; in the spaces between the worlds (metacosmia, intermundia)
they lead a blissful life without any share in events within the cosmos or in the
actions of mankind. How these gods remained unaffected by the perishable
nature of all other atomic structures, how they are recognized by man and
appear to him in images released from their surfaces, all these questions are
connected with problems of interpretation with which scholarship is actively
occupied at present.! It has also been proved that the claim that Epicurus,
basically an atheist, made a hollow truce with tradition by means of his doctrine
of the gods, is a misrepresentation. It has rather been recognized that there is an
Epicurean piety which is realized in the contemplation of the peaceful bliss of
the divine.”
Apart from fear, man must master desire and grief if he is to achieve peace
for his soul. On the other hand, Epicurus took pleasure from the rank of the
emotions and made this the final purpose of all aspirations by equating it with
secure inner peace. Such a high valuation of pleasure is reminiscent of Aristippus,
but while for the latter pleasure meant movement in a particularly profitable
form, it is for Epicurus something which is tranquil within itself, removed from
movement. There is hardly any need to mention that for Epicurus pleasure
does not mean the greatest possible sensual satisfaction, although many challeng-
ing formulations by the Epicureans themselves may have led to the idea of the
porcus de grege Epicuri.3
It is self-evident that for Epicurus the foundation of a doctrine of ethical
values was a great deal more difficult than for Plato or the Stoa. This is shown
quite clearly by his troubles with the notion of justice. It is based neither in the
idea nor in physis, but the wise man will uphold it, since trangression cannot
remain concealed and is followed up with punishment. The laws of the state
which have come about through treaties demand respect for practical reasons.
But the Epicurean turns his back upon politics on the guiding principle of

' G. FREYMUTH, Zur Lehre von den Gétterbildern in der ep. Philosophie. Berl. (D. Ak. d.
Wiss. Inst. f. hellenist.-r6m. Philos. 2) 1953, with incorporation of the abundant bibl. Id.
‘Eine Anwendung von Epikurs Isonomiegesetz’. Phil. 98, 1954, 101; ‘Methodisches zur ep.
Gotterlehre’. Phil. 99, 1955, 234. G. PFLIGERSDOREFER, ‘Cicero iiber Epikurs Lehre vom
Wesen der Gotter’. Wien. Stud. 70, 1957, 235.
2 Cf. the outstanding work of WOLFG. SCHMID, ‘Gétter und Menschen in der Theologie
ak Rhein. Mus. 94, 1951, 97, who meets Klingner in his criticism of Lucretius (v. p. 683,
n. 4).
3 Against such an opinion Seneca, De Vita beata, 12, 4.
684
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

Live Unobserved (Ade Buscas). The most suitable relationship for this purpose
is friendship between congenial people; their genuine cultivation of this bond
gave to the garden its special character.
The succession after the founder is of much less importance for Epicureanism
than for the Stoa. There was no question of elaboration or modification of the
doctrine which seemed inviolable to its adherents through the very person of
its founder. Metrodorus of Lampsacus,' a particularly loyal follower of his
master, died before him; the direction of the school passed on to Hermarchus?
and after him to Polystratus. Both also defended their doctrine in written
works. So did Colotes, who attacked Plato and of whom we get some impres-
sion from the Herculanean rolls. We earlier met some Epicureans of Cicero’s
time in connection with Philodemus. Behind all these names an extensive
literature is at the service of the doctrine which had to protect itself against
numerous attacks, especially by the Stoics.
Polemon and Crates were no more able to give a new impetus to the Platonic
Academy than their predecessors Speusippus and Xenocrates. A change occurred
with Arcesilaus of Pitane in Aeolia, who undertook the direction of the school
in 268. According to an ancient classification the Middle Academy began with
him.3 His doctrine, which he passed on by word of mouth, was based on
Socratic ignorance, denying the possibility of giving definite judgments on the
basis of our perception. Opponents of the Academy claimed that with this
reserve (€7roy7}) Arcesilaus copied the scepticism of Pyrrhon of Elis, and moderns
have mostly followed suit. But Arcesilaus’ primary motive was to oppose the
Stoic theory of knowledge which, based on the senses, adopted as the foundation
of all knowledge the images of sense-perception; these were rather dubiously
divided into convincing and non-convincing images.* In his devaluation of
perception Arcesilaus remained wholly Platonic; it is difficult to ascertain to
what extent he also defended the Platonic theory of ideas for a smaller circle of
pupils.’ Under Carneades of Cyrene (214-129) the war against the Stoa widened
into a polemic against all conceivable schools of philosophy. Carneades, who
went to Rome as a member of the philosophers’ embassy in 155, directed the
Academy from that date to 137. He did not leave any writings; pupils, especially
Clitomachus, recorded his doctrine.
The realization that in such a general polemic the Academy was losing its
footing, led under Philo of Larissa to a reaction. He restricted his battle to the
Stoic notion of truth and restored the Platonic one to its rightful position.
During the Mithradatic war he fled to Rome, where as a teacher he gained a

1 The fragments in a. KORTE, N. Jahrb. Suppl. 17, 1890, $31, with the notes in WOLFG.
SCHMID, Reallex.f.Ant. u. Chr. 5, 1961, 703.
2 The fragments in K. KROHN, Diss. Berl. 1921.
3 On the various ancient divisions of the Academy 0. G1GON, “Zur Gesch. der sog. Neuen
Akademie’. Mus. Helv. 1, 1944, 62.
+ Gigon lays the basis for this opinion in the important essay mentioned in the previous
note. On Arcesilaus’ poems: P. VON DER MUHLL, Studi in onore di U. Paoli. Florence 1955,
17.
5 Material in GIGON, v. sup. 55.
Zz 685
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

determining influence over Cicero.! Antiochus of Ascalon,? whom Cicero

heard in Rome, went much further than Philo. He wanted to bridge the gap to
as many systems as possible and sought the way to true Platonism through a
conspectus of the early Academic, Stoic and Peripatetic tradition. Cicero (Ac.
1. 132) characterized him with his observation that he was called Academicus, but
that he needed to change only a little to become germanissimus Stoicus. Through
such an exaggerated eclecticism he got into opposition to Philo and so into a
controversy which is an example of the claims of various schools that they
possessed the true Plato. The possibility of such a dispute is deeply rooted in the
aspects of Platonic philosophy. The one of the mystic vision remains far in the
background during this period; in a later epoch of Platonism it will come to
the fore with greater force.
Among important Peripatetics of the early time of the school we have already
met Eudemus, Aristoxenus and Dicaearchus in connection with Aristotle.
There we also learned of Theophrastus of Eresus in Lesbos as his student,
collaborator and friend since Assos. When Aristotle died in 322, he could find
no better successor than this companion of his investigations. Theophrastus
headed the school until he died in 288/287 or 287/286 at the age of 85. The
prosperity of the Peripatos in this period — the tradition mentions a total
number of 2000 students — is indicative of his personal popularity. Even though
he was a metic, he managed to acquire property through the intermediacy of
Demetrius of Phalerum, and an action for impiety, brought against him by
Hagnonides between 319 and 315, miscarried completely, and so concluded
this inglorious chapter in the history of Athens. To a large extent it was the
momentum of Theophrastus’ protest which strengthened the resistance to the
attack against the freedom of teaching by philosophers, undertaken by a certain
Sophocles (v. p. 551). When he was carried to his grave, the city showed by its
mourning how important he had been there. His will was preserved by Diogenes
Laertius in Book 5 of his history of philosophy, which, with its biography and
register of works, is our most important source for Theophrastus.
His tremendous work shows the same universality as that of his master. The
conformity of the subject-matter with which they dealt is plainly discernible
from the recurrence of such titles as Analytica,3 Topics, Poetics and themes like
physics, meteorology or zoology. His scientific publications are, like those of
Aristotle, closely connected with his lecturing activity; of this we have valuable
testimony in a letter to Phaenias in Diog. Laert. sen)
Even the little that has been preserved of Theophrastus attest to the breadth
of his interests. Entirely within the scope of Aristotelian scientific research are
' A. WEISCHE, Cicero und die Neue Akademie. Untersuchungen zu Entstehung und Geschichte
des Antiken Skeptizismus. Munster 1961 (Orbis antiquus H. 18).
2 A, LUEDER, Die philos. Personlichkeit des Antiochos von Askalon. Diss. Gott. 1940. G. LUCK,
Der Akademiker Antiochos. Noctes Romanae 7. 1953. Further ref. in a. WLOSOK, Laktanz und
die philos. Gnosis. Abh. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. KI. 1960/2, 50, n. 2. On Philo: x. v. FRITZ,
RE 19, 1938, 2535.
3 J. M. BOCHENSKI, La Logique de Théophraste. Fribourg 1947.
* On the interpretation Regenbogen, RE S 7, 1940, 1359, 36.
686
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

the two botanical works: Botany in nine books (Iept dutixdv foropiav a’-0")
and the six books On the Causes of Plants (Mutic@v attiay a'-s’). The mutual
relation of these works is similar to that of Aristotle's Zoology to the aetiological
works in the province of zoology, although differences can be detected which
have a bearing on Theophrastus’ personality generally. His stronger inclination
toward empiricism is connected with a reserve with regard to speculative
solutions and constructive synthesis. Instead of firmly defined demarcations we
often find gradual transitions. But the scientific worker is by far predominant
in him over the philosopher in that he develops a problem in all its dimensions
while renouncing a definite solution. Whole series of problems, like those in the
works on plants, but also in the fragments of other works, are characteristic of
this attitude. In the authoritative monograph of his RE-article, Regenbogen
shows that we must not overrate either Theophrastus’ personal fieldwork or the
importance of Alexander’s expedition, but rather that these works owe a great
deal to a well-established tradition and various channels of information. It is
important for the history of botany! that Theophrastus is the first author whose
botanical scientific interests are not dominated by medicine.
Besides these two works there are the Characters ?H@uxot yapaxripes) with
totally different subject-matter; we mentioned this work earlier in connection
with Menander (p. 644). Here Theophrastus brings together thirty sketches of
personalities, types which have been portrayed in a life-like manner and
differentiated with great subtlety, whose generally human weaknesses are
presented in motley Athenian dress. The preface and the moralizing epilogues
are spurious additions. The question of the purpose of the opuscule has not yet
been satisfactorily answered, a fact which should not detract from our delight
in so much striking observation. It should be borne in mind, however, that
Theophrastus was not the only one to write such sketches. In his treatise Hepi
xaxc@v Philodemus preserved samples of character-sketches by Ariston of
Ceos. This seems to be a work about dietetics for the soul. Does this permit us
to draw conclusions with respect to Theophrastus?”
' A survey of the history of Greek botany is found in the introduction to MARGARET H.
THOMPSON, Textes grecs inédits relatifs aux plantes. Paris 1935, with bibl. It is difficult to date
these texts, but they are generally of a late date; of course this does not apply to the tradition
passed on in them. v. R. STROMBERG, Griech. Pflanzennamen. Goteborgs hdgskolas arsskrift 46/1,
1940.
2 Recent editions: I caratteri a cura di E. Levi. Milan 1956. M. F. GALIANO, Los caracteres
Ed. biling. Madrid 1956. G. PASQUALI, I caratteri. Testo, introd., trad.
e comm. 2nd ed.
Florence 1956 (prod. by v. DE FALCO. Abundant bibl. references). P. sTEINMETZ, Th.s
Charaktere herausg. u. erkl. Wort der Antike 7, 2 vols. Munich 1960, 1962. R. GLENN USSHER.
Th. The Characters with introd. comm. and index. Lond. 1960. — REGENBOGEN, v. sup. 1507 ff.
on its purpose. Doubt expressed by woirc. SCHMID, Der Hellenismus (v. p. 672 n. 3)
77, 1. Useful on Peripatetic depiction of character. w. BUCHNER, ‘Uber den Begriff der
Eironeia’. Herm. 76, 1941, 339. D. J. FURLEY, ‘The Purpose of Th.s Characters’. Symb. Os.
30, 1950, $6, again takes up the theory propounded by 0. IMMISCH, Phil. 57, 1898, 193,
that it is a parergon to Theophrastus’ rhetorical works in order to illuminate theoretical
instruction with practical examples. Otherwise P. STEINMETZ, ‘Der Zweck der Charaktere
Th.s’. Ann. Univ. Saraviensis. Phil. Lettres 8/3, 1959, 209, with good survey of the history
Th.’. Rhein. Mus. 103, 1960, 185. He considers the Characters
of the problem; id., “Menanderu.
687
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

From among Theophrastus’ remaining works mention was made in the

section on Aristotle (p. 576) of his fundamental doxography ®vocay d0€ar.
The attribution of the fragment De Sensibus to the great work, which was long
confidently defended, has become dubious,! but the combination of a discussion
with excellent criticism, which can be detected in this fragment, was no doubt
the structural principle of this doxography.
Brief mention will be made of only two more of Theophrastus’ many
spheres of activity. In addition to his numerous investigations into ethical
problems, there are those on religion and cult. From excerpts in the second
book of Porphyry’s De Abstinentia we get some idea of the treatise On Piety
(Ilept edoeBeias). Theophrastus was led to reject many follies, especially
blood-thirsty sacrifices, by a belief that worship should be profoundly serious;
he assumed that such practices had developed from an innocuous origin and was
also convinced that all living beings were connected by a natural kinship.
Theophrastus occupied himself exhaustively with rhetoric, and in this respect
it was especially his doctrine of the four virtutes dicendi (EAAqvicpos, cadjveca,
mpémov, KataoKevn) which had further influence. J. Stroux? extracted these
from Cicero, Orat. 75 ff. Unfortunately, it is impossible to make any positive
statements about the treatise [lepi ioropias, but it is likely that Theophrastus
dealt with theoretical questions of historiography.*+
For a long time scholarship was preoccupied with Aristotle at the expense of
Theophrastus, but some present-day scholars, especially Regenbogen, have done
him more justice and have shown in how many points he was independent, as,
for instance, in his doctrine of judgments, the conception of the soul,5 his
criticism of Aristotle’s notion of space, to mention only a few. In general he is
the great continuator of Aristotle’s work: he was also responsible for carrying
further the emancipation of individual branches of science from philosophy,
which was to be completed in Alexandria.
The scientific spirit of the Peripatos was also maintained by Theophrastus’
successor Straton of Lampsacus who, under Democritus’ influence, inclined
toward a purely physical explanation of phenomena and a monistic image of the
universe. He was particularly interested in physiological functions; as such he

to be a polemic in the meaning of the Aristotelian @ewpia against an ethically directed

philosophy, by showing the unchanging nature of average people. In the face of these varying
opinions it seems permissible to wonder whether these splendid zaéyna have indeed a
sharply definable purpose.
' REGENBOGEN, V. sup. 1399, 56 and 1537, 26.
* De Theophrasti virtutibus dicendi. Leipz. 1912. Also F. WEHRLI, Phyllobolia
fiir Peter von
der Miihll. Basel 1946, 29.
3 There is some reason to conjecture that Hamb. Pap. 128 (Griech. Pap. der Hamburger
Staats- u. Univ. Bibl. Hamb. 1954, 36), written before 250 B.c. (cf. Arch. Pap. Forsch. 16,
1959, 108), originated from Theophrastus’ Hepi Aéfews. On fragments of Theophrastus’
treatise On Music in the works of the medieval philosopher Sakrastani, who wrote in Arabic:
FR. ALTHEIM and R. STIEHL, Gesch. d. Hunnen 3, Berl. 1961, 131.
4 Cf. FE. W. WALBANK, Gnom. 29, 1957, 418.
5 Cf. also B. BARBOTIN, La Théorie aristotélicienne de Vintellect @ apres Théophraste. Louvain
1954 (with abundant bibl.).
688
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
also understood spiritual life, and so he denied that there was any immortal part
of the soul. He also saw all zoological phenomena in this context, whether
it was procreation, embryology or monster-births. Lycon, who directed the
school for forty-four years, devoted his attention to its outside influence; nor
did Ariston of Ceos manage to inspire it with new life. His successor Critolaus
is known as a member of the philosophers’ embassy, which caused so much
admiration and opposition in Rome in 155. He also contributed to the alterca-
tion with rhetoric. But it was not until Andronicus of Rhodes, who led the
school from about 70-50, that its work once more provided a stimulus through
its publication of Aristotle’s textbooks (v. p. 579).
The broad scope of the literature which flourished in this soil is connected
with Peripatetic interests, which from the beginning extended beyond purely
philosophical problems. The most impressive example of this is Demetrius of
Phalerum, Theophrastus’ pupil and, as Cassander’s trusty, regent of the city in
the quality of Epimeletes from 317-307. His sensible and moderate rule during
which he did not disavow his interest in philosophy! was cut short by Demetrius
Poliorcetes. He first fled to Thebes and then went on to the court of Ptolemy I,
perhaps after a sojourn in Macedon. It is not possible to assess precisely his share
in the cultural policy of Ptolemy and in the founding of the Museum and the
Library, but it must have been considerable. At his advice Ptolemy called to
Egypt Straton, the Peripatetic and later director of the school, as a teacher for
his children; the connection of the Peripatos with Alexandria can be observed
in this as well. The succession to the throne of Ptolemy Philadelphus was fateful
for Demetrius; he was expelled from court and died in Upper Egypt.
We already met Demetrius as the editor of a collection of Aesop’s fables
(p. 155) and of maxims of the seven sages (p. 157). This characterized
the interests of this ruler, who organized readings of Homer’s poems at the
Thymelian Games and wrote commentaries on the Iliad, the Odyssey and
on Homericus. The numerous titles known testify to a literary activity which
covered philosophy, rhetoric, history and politics. In a systematic study of
Athenian political organization (Ilepi tis "A@jvyor vopobecias) and a
description of the constitutions of the city and their chronology (Ilepi r&v
’"AOjvynot todTeav) we see him following Aristotle’s footsteps. The Record
of Archons was in the nature of a chronicle; in the works On the Ten Years (Ilepi
Sexaerias) and On the Constitution (Ilepi moAvretas) he gave an account of
his régime. Sometimes he used the form of the dialogue. Diogenes Laertius
(s. 76) also contains evidence? of pacans to Serapis, who cured his eyes.
The treatise On Style (Ilepi épynvetas),3 a work of the first century A.D. and
probably of Peripatetic origin, dealing with rhetorical expression and its aids,
is not of Demetrius’ hand. The treatise On Kinds of Letters (Tvaou émuatoAucol),
a dull schematical tractate, is also spurious. Its similarity with a late work
imputed to Libanius according to one interpretation, to Proclus in another

' Cf. g. BAYER’S monograph D. Phalereus der Athener. Tiib. Beitr. 36, 1942.
2 Doubts in WEHRLI on fr. 200.
3 Edition by L. RADERMACHER, Leipz. 1901. Cf. F. SOLMSEN, Herm. 66, 1931, 241.
689
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

(€moroAmator yapaxripes) justifies Wehrli’s' dating in the early empire

against the considerably earlier date of others. “7
Of the numerous other Peripatetic authors Praxiphanes rouses our curiosity
through the information that he undertook the construction of a scientific
grammar and was the teacher of Callimachus and Aratus. Callimachus (v. infra)
attacked some of his dicta in On Poets and On Poems. In his treatise Ilepi toropias
he probably dealt with theoretical questions, as Theophrastus had done.
Clearchus of Soloe was a diligent scribbler, whose work On Forms of Life (Ilepi
Biwv, 8 books; there is evidence of a similar title for Theophrastus) is as much
under Peripatetic influence as an Osteology (epi oxeder@v). He is of some
interest as a representative of the group of Peripatetics who inclined towards
the Academy. He praised Plato in an encomium and wrote a commentary on
the Republic and possibly another on the Timaeus. He was in opposition to the
contemporary rationalism of scientific research, and in this respect he was akin
to Heraclides Ponticus, who wrote On Piety and reveals his belief in miracles
repeatedly in the surviving fragments. In his treatise Ilept davouv Praxiphanes
introduces Aristotle as one of the speakers in the dialogue, in the course of
which he tells of his wonderful experiences in the other world and so converts
the scientist to a belief in the immortality of the soul.
Peripatetic writers were particularly active in history and biography and
created depositories of tradition which remained influential until the end of
antiquity through manifold ramifications. It is curious to note in this field that
those who held themselves to be the intellectual successors of Aristotle were
wholly devoid of critical awareness in their treatment of this tradition.
More credit is due to those who stayed close to home and initiated the history
of the schools of philosophy: Antisthenes of Rhodes and Sotion of Alexandria,
who both wrote their Diadochae in the second century B.c. Under Ptolemy VI
Philometor, a certain Heraclides Lembos, who also wrote history, excerpted
Sotion’s voluminous work in six books. The form created by Sotion remained
influential up to Diogenes Laertius, who himself is an exponent of the continued
Peripatetic tradition.
Peripatetic biography became particularly productive? after Aristoxenus, of
whom we heard as a theoretician of music (p. 577), had preceded with his
biographies. There were various early beginnings of biographical writing in
Greek literature. Plato’s Apology is often quoted as an example and it may be
conjectured that such elements also occurred in the writings of the other

' On Demetrius fr. 203.

* F. LEO, Die griech.-rom. Biographie nach ihrer litt. Form. Leipz. 1901 is still the starting-
point. Yet w. sTEIDLE, Sueton und die antike Biographie. Zet. t. Munich 1951 (esp. 166), has
justifiably objected against the separation of a Peripatetic biography which describes chrono-
logically while using an artistic form, from a pattern which arranges according to subjects,
supposedly originating from the Alexandrian grammarians. Important for the origins of
Greek biography, for its difference from the modern version and especially for the ethical-
psychological notions of the Peripatos in its tradition: A. DIHLE, Studien zur griech. Biographie.
Abh. Ak. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 3. 37, 1956. On Herodotus HELENE HOMEYER, ‘Zu den Anfangen
der griech. Biographie’. Phil. 106, 1962, 75.
690
 THE HELEENISTIC AGE

Socratics. Xenophon provides an example of the educational romance with his

Cyropaedia, and his Agesilaus is a sample of encomiastic literature which neces-
sarily contains a great deal of biographical information. Going back even
further, scholars have lately quoted biographical elements in Herodotus as
examples, especially his stories about Cyrus and Cambyses, and to a less extent
those about Miltiades and Themistocles. But these are all mere beginnings and
there is no doubt about the vigorous encouragement which biographical
writing received from the Peripatos. Two factors especially were influential: in
the first place there was an interest in the great thinkers, particularly the founders
of the schools, whose lives they wished to interpret as the confirmation of the
principles for which they stood; and then, in his ethical writings, Aristotle had
shown his interest in the various patterns of behaviour. The Peripatos had also
produced a rich literature zepl Biwy, on the choice of life, in which a wealth of
examples was an unavoidable element. It was equally inevitable that the anec-
dotes and the romance tended to occupy considerable room in this sort of
literature.
There is evidence that Aristoxenus wrote biographies of Pythagoras, Archytas,
Socrates, Plato and Telestes the dithyrambic poet (v. p. 414); he also wrote On
the Tragic Poets and On Fluteplayers, but it is doubtful whether these mono-
graphs appeared in a collection.! A fertile author in this field was Chamaeleon,
who wrote on poets of all genres and times in a large number of biographies
and also produced numerous other works, such as one On the Satyr-play (Hepi
catvpwyv). Even authors in whose work biography does not occupy such a
large place reveal the delight in anecdotes and legendary material, as, for
instance, Phaenias of Eresus in Lesbos, who wrote On the Sicilian Tyrants (Ilepi
tav ev LixeAia tupavvwv) and The Removal of Tyrants as Revenge (Tupdvywy
dvaipeois ek TYywpias).2 Hieronymus of Rhodes was involved in a philo-
sophical polemic with Lycon and Arcesilaus for which he also utilized bio-
graphical material, though apparently not doing any better than the others. Of
biographical writing of this kind we have acquired a shocking example in a
papyrus (no. 1135 P.) which is from the sixth book of Satyrus’ biographical
work and contains parts of the life of Euripides. The dialogue-form of these
biographies, which were written in the second century B.c., was new to us;
but in their contents we observe an uncritical attitude which was satisfied
with any sort of tradition. The biographical material thus produced was passed
on by numerous authors — we only mention the Callimachean Hermippus of
Smyrna and Ister of Cyrene with their collections and it did not improve
in the process. When we complain of the sorry state of ancient biography
which had its origin here, and of the decline of the critical spirit, we must not
forget one extenuating circumstance: ancient biographers were faced with a
poverty of sources which cannot be compared with modern conditions. There-
fore any information was welcome, but in particular they squeezed more out of
1 WEHRLI on fr. 10.
2 On Phaenias, Theophrastus and the tyranny in Eresus cf. REGENBOGEN (v. p. 086 n. 4),
1359, 20.
OO!
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the works of the poets themselves than these could yield. And the pleasure in
romancing which so fertilized the growth of the novel in Ionian soil was a great
encouragement for a rich crop of anecdotes.

As a rule only works have been referred to which can complete 0. GIGON’s
bibliography (v. p. 167). Particular attention is directed to Fifiy Years of Class.
Scholarship, Oxf. 1954, 141 ff. and WOLF. SCHMID’s survey in Der Hellenismus
in der deutschen Forschung 1938-1948. Wiesbaden 1956, 72. For this section:
C. J. DE VOGEL, Greek Philosophy. A Coll. of Texts with Notes and Explanations.
3: The Hellenistic-Roman Period. Leiden 1959. For its subsequent history: H.
HAGENDAHL: Latin Fathers and the Classics. Goteborg 1958. Further bibl. in the
notes.
Cynics: Introduction to the Cynical diatribe in the translation by w. CAPELLE,
Epiktet, Teles und Musonios. Ziirich 1948 (Bibl. d. alten Welt). Teles: O. HENSE,
Teletis reliquiae. 2nd ed. Tiib. 1909 (also important for Bion). Menippus: cf.
p. 671, n. 1. Phoenix and Cercidas: a. D. KNOX: Herodes, Cercidas and the Greek
choliambic poets. London 1929. J. U. POWELL, Collectanea Alexandrina, Oxf. 1925,
201. 231. Anth. Lyr. D. fasc. 3, p. 124 and 141 with bibl. a. PENNACINI, Cercida
e il secondo cinismo. Atti di Acad. d. Scienze di Torino, 90, 1955. Cf. p. 671, n. 2. -
Timon: H. DIELS, Poetarum philos. fragmenta. Berl. t901, 173.
Stoa: the texts: H. Vv. ARNIM, Stoicorum veterum fragmenta. 4 vols. (Vol. 4
contains indices). Leipz. 1903-1924. M. HADAS, Essential Works of Stoicism, New
York 1961. The most important study by M. POHLENZ, Die Stoa, Geschichte einer
geistigen Bewegung. 2 vols. Gétt. 1948-49, the 2nd vol. in 2nd ed. 1955. Contains
abundant bibl., as well as the important detailed studies by POHLENZ on prob-
lems of the Stoa. By the same a translation of the most important evidence with
introduction and connecting text: Stoa und Stoiker. Ziirich 1950 (Bibl. d. Alten
Welt). Further: F. BARTH — A. GOEDECKEMEYER, Die Stoa. 6th ed. Stuttg. 1945.
E. HOFFMANN, Leben und Tod in der stoischen Philosophie. Heidelb. 1946. R.
BULTMANN, Das Urchristentum im Rahmen der antiken Religionen. Ziirich 1949 (in
chap. 4 the ideal of the Stoic sage). G. NEBEL, Griech. Ursprung. Wuppertal 1948,
319. B. SCHWARTZ, Ethik der Griechen. Stuttg. 1951, 149. Individual Stoics:
G. VERBEKE, Kleanthes von Assos. Brussels 1949. M. VAN STRAATEN, Panaetii
Rhodii fragmenta. Leiden 1952; 2nd ed. amplificata 1962. G. pICHT, Die Grund-
lagen der Ethik des Panaitios. Diss. Freib. i. Br. 1942 (not printed). A. GRILLI,
‘Studi panezziani’. Stud. It. 29, 1957, 31. K. REINHARDT, RE 22, 1953, 558-826
gives a large-scale synopsis of Posidonius. His three books on Posidonius are
mentioned p. 679, n. 5. A contribution to the collection of fragments of P.
announced by L. Edelstein in r. KUDLIEN, ‘P. und die Arzteschule der Pneu-
matiker’. Herm. 90, 1962, 419.
Epicureanism: PH. DE LACY, ‘Some recent publications on E. and Epicurean-
ism (1937-54)’. Class. Weekly 48, 1954-55, 167. 232. Bibl. also in Gigon’s survey
(v. infra). The best information now supplied by the long Epicurus-article by
692
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
WOLFG. SCHMID in the Reallex.f.Ant. u. Christent. 5, 1961, 681, which also (816)
contains good bibl. and a reference to a complete bibl. prepared by B. HASLER.
The texts: H. USENER, Epicurea. Leipz. 1887. C. BAILEY, Epicurus. Oxf. 1926.
G. ARRIGHETTI. Epicuro, Opere. Turin 1960, especially important for the rem-
nants of the lost works. p. VON DER MUHLL, Epicuri epistulae tres et Ratae sententiae.
Leipz. 1922. EMILIE BOER, Epikur, Briefe an Pythokles. Berl. (D. Ak. d. Wiss.
Inst. f. hellenist. rm. Philos. 3) 1954. C. DIANO, Epicuri Ethica. Florence 1946.
Herculanean rolls: A. VOGLIANO, Epicuri et Epicureorum scripta in Herculanensibus
papyris servata, Berl. 1928. In add. k. v. FRITZ, Gnom. 8, 1932, 65. An important
ethical fragment (v. p. 683 n. I): WOLFG. SCHMID, Ethical Epicurea. Pap. Herc.
1251. Leipz. 1939. The letters in Philodemus’ mpayyaretau: Cc. DIANO, Lettere
di Epicuro e dei suoi. Florence 1946. Id., ‘Lettere di E. agli amici de Lampsaco a
Pitocle e a Mitre.” Stud. It. 23, 1948, 59. A. VOGLIANO, ‘I resti dell’ XV. libro del
epi dvcews di E. Aus dem Nachlass herausg. von B. Hasler’. Phil. 100, 1956,
253. The numerous separate editions of Philodemus’ writings in R. PHILIPPSON’s
authoritative article on this Epicurean, RE 19, 1938, 2444. On Epicurea in Egypt-
ian papyri v. P. under Epicurus. In add. the Heidelberger. pap. (Inv. 1740); cf.
WOLEG. SCHMID, Der Hellenismus in der deutschen Forschung 1938-1948. Wies-
baden 1956, 79. The inscription of Oenoanda: J. witt1AM, Leipz. 1907. A.
GRILLI, Diogenis Oenoandensis fragmenta. Milan-Varese 1960 (Testi e documenti per
lo studio dell’ antichita 2). Papers: Leading work in WOLFG. SCHMID’s above-
mentioned Epicurus-article with excellent treatment of the related problems.
The following represents only a limited selection: E. BIGNONE, L’Aristotele
perduto e la formazione filosofica di Epicuro. 2 vols., Florence 1936. A. J. FESTUGIERE,
Epicure et ses dieux. Paris 1946 (Engl. Oxf. 1955). Important essays on this theme:
p. 684, n. 1 f. E. SCHWARTZ (v. on Stoa). ROMANO AMERIO, L’epicureismo.
Turin 1953. N. w. DE witt. E. and his philosophy. Minneapolis 1954 (problemati-
cal; cf. PH. MERLAN, Philos. Rev. 64, 1955, 140. G. FREYMUTH, Deutsch. Lit. Zeit.
78, 1957, H.1. W. KULLMANN, Gymn. 64, 1957, 271 with bibl.). Important
comprehensive criticism by WOLFG. SCHMID, Gnom. 27, 1955, 405. A. CRESSON,
Epicure, sa vie, son ceuvre. 3rd ed. Paris 1958. Univ. of Genoa, Fac. of Arts.
Epicurea in memoriam Hectoris Bignone. Miscellanea Philologica. Ist. di Filol. Class.
1959 (numerous contrib. of Ital. scholars, of WOLFG. SCHMID and R. FLACE-
LIERE). PH. MERLAN, Studies in Epicurus and Aristotle. Wiesbaden 1960 (Klass.-
phil. Stud. 22). Vogliano’s work on the Herculanensia in the two vols.
Prolegomena, Rome 1952/3. The same ‘Gli studi fil. epicurei nell’ ultimo
cinquantennio’. Mus. Helv. 11, 1954, 188. Excellent information in WOLFG.
SCHMID’s ‘Zur Geschichte der herkulanischen Studien’. Parola del passato 45,
1955, 478. On the technical aspect of the edition: 0. LUSCHNAT, Zum Text von
Philodems Schrift De musica. Berl. (D. Ak. d. Wiss. Inst. f. hellenist.-rém. Philos.
1) 1953. An analysis of this work by A.Jeanette Neubecker in no. 6, 1956 ofthis
series. On the language: H. WIDMANN, Beitrdge zur Syntax E's. Tiib. Beitr. 24,
1935. C. BRESCIA, Ricerche sulla lingua e sullo stilo di E. Naples 1955.
Translations: 0. GIGON, E. von der Uberwindung der Furcht. Ziirich 1949 (Bibl.
d. Alten Welt, with valuable introduction.) J. Mewatpt, E. Philosophie der
Z2 693
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Freude. Stuttg. 1949. Ital.: E. BIGNONE, Bari 1924. R. SAMMARTANO, Epicuro,

Etica. Opere e framm. In app. la vita di Epicuro di Diogene Laerzio. Trad. e note.
Bologna 1959. — Lexicon Philodemeum by c. J. vooys and D. A. KREVELEN,
Purmerend 1934-41.
Academy: Besides the works mentioned in p. 685 n. 3 and p. 686 n. 2.
Pohlenz in his Stoa (v. supra) 1, 174 and 187. Ss. MEKLER, Academicorum
philosophorum index Herculanensis 1902 in photo-reprint Berl. 1958.
Peripatos: For Theophrastus 0. REGENBOGEN’S article RE 7, 1940, 1353-1562
is still the authoritative monograph, containing editions and collections of
fragments. The Botany, biling. by a. F. HORT, 2 vols. Loeb Class. Libr. 1916.
Editions of Characters and bibl. p. 687 n. 2.
On the bibl. in Regenbogen and the above-mentioned bibls.: G. M. A. GRUBE,
‘Th. as a literary Critic’. Trans. a. Proc. of the Am. Phil. Ass. 83, 1952, 172.
J. H. H. A. INDEMANS, Studién over Th. Diss. Amsterd. 1953; cf. F. DIRLMEIER,
Gnom. 26, 1954, 508. H. STROHM, ‘Th. und Poseidonios’. Herm. 81, 1953, 278.
G. SENN, Die Pflanzenkunde des Th. von Eresos, seine Schrift iiber die Unterschei-
dungsmerkmale der Pflanzen und seine Kunstprosa. Basel 1956. On the metaphysics:
yj. TRICOT, Théophraste. La Métaphysique. Trad. et notes. Paris 1948. W. THEILER,
Mus. Helv. 15, 1958, 102. The remaining Peripatetics of some importance have
now been made accessible through F. Wehrli’s great collection of fragments
with comm.: Die Schule des Aristoteles: 1. Dikaiarchos. Basel 1944. 2. Aristoxenos.
1945. 3. Klearchos. 1948. 4. Demetrios von Phaleron. 1949. 5. Straton von Lampsakos.
1950. 6. Lykon und Ariston von Keos. 1952. 7. Herakleides Pontikos. 1953.
8. Eudemos von Rhodos. 1955. 9. Phainias von Eresos. Chamaileon. Praxiphanes.
1957. 10. Hieronymos von Rhodos. Kritolaos und seine Schule. Riickblick, Der
Peripatos in vorchristlicher Zeit. Register. 1959, with an excellent exposition of the
swift disintegration of the Peripatos; although its ontology and ethics made it
unsuitable for either exclusiveness or for recruiting new members, the very
versatility of its empiricism provided a good deal of incentive for Alexandrian
science.

B The New Centres

I GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS

In the image of the Hellenistic age Athens, the Porch and the Garden are over-
shadowed by the great kingdoms which assumed Alexander’s legacy and
developed new forms of political, economic and intellectual life. This epoch, like
any other, is not marked off by clearly drawn boundaries, either with regard to
its beginning or its end. In previous sections we have time and again pointed
out that the Hellenistic era was anticipated in various fields and it is understand-
able that many authors place its beginning a good while before Alexander.! But
it was the Macedonian conqueror who first burst open the gate to all the new
roads, so that it is still sensible to date its beginning in the time when the effects
" R. LAQUEUR, Hellenismus. Giessen 1925, makes the period begin with the 4th century,
H. BENGTSON, Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 285, in 360.
694
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
of his achievements became apparent. On the other hand, it can be shown with
good reason that the culture of the Empire also forms part of this period. There
is no need to overestimate the Hellenistic elements which remained effective up
to the decline of antiquity; and profound changes, such as the extension of the
Roman political organization or the Atticist reaction in literature, indicate the
need for a break. A significant date for this is the year 30, in which the last of the
Hellenistic kingdoms came under the rule of Rome with the fall of Alexandria.
The Hellenistic age is historically important in that it conclusively overthrew
the narrow limits of the polis and opened up the whole inhabited world for the
Greeks to settle and spread their civilization. The tremendous influence of Greek
culture on that of Rome is part of this movement; it did not lead to its Helleniza-
tion, but the clash of ideas was fruitful and produced the first humanism of the
western world. It affected the West in a different way from the East, where in
turn its development showed considerable varieties according to countries and
peoples. Sociologically the most important question is that concerned with the
nature, extent and depth of the mingling of the immigrant Greeks with the
indigenous population. With regard to the Ptolemies and the Seleucids it may
be stated that initially they did not think of adopting Alexander’s policy of
fusion which found such tangible expression in the mass-wedding at Susa. In
Egypt as in Syria powerful regents were supported by a class in which the
Macedonians, numerically too weak, were supplemented by numerous Greeks.
In this first period, aptly called ‘Hochhellenismus’ by R. Pfeiffer,! which lasted
until about 250, this top class, which formed the prop of the government, cannot
be said to have fused to any great extent with the foreign nations. As for Egypt,
it has been correctly pointed out that the extensive correspondence of the
Zenonpapyri of the middle of the third century does not produce any com-
bination of Greek and Egyptian names. This corresponds with the tight coher-
ence within the Greek stratum. It is vouched for by the educational system and
especially by the gymnasium, while the influence of the theatre should not be
underestimated either, since every town of any importance possessed one. The
uncommonly active and varied club-life of the time? attests the feelings of
solidarity which united the Greeks abroad.
All these things are important. They support and explain the observation
which we derive directly from the evidence preserved that the intellectual
culture of the Hellenistic age in the time of its most significant achievements
was utterly Greek. At most an indication of some religious fusion can be
observed. It is well known that Ptolemy I created and propagated the Sarapis-
cult; Osiris-Apis was brought to Alexandria from Memphis, where he was
Hellenized to a certain extent by means of a temple and statue.* Later this cult,
1 Deutsche Lit. Zeit. 1925, 2136.
2 H. J. MARROU, Histoire de ’éducation dans lantiquité, 3rd ed. Paris 1955. M. P. NILSSON,
Die hellenistische Schule. Munich 1955. Good survey in W. sCHUBART, Die Griechen in
Agypten Beih. z. Alten Orient 10, Leipz. 1927.
3 M. SAN NICOLO, Agypt. Vereinswesen zur Zeit der Ptolemder und Romer. 1, Munich 1913;
2/1, 1915. Other bibl. in Bengtson (v. p. 694 n. 1), 444.
+ This particular in NILSSON, Gesch. d. gr. Rel. 2, 2nd ed. Munich 1961, 156.
695
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

together with that of Isis, spread far and wide, but in the world of Callimachus
and Apollonius Rhodius these gods have practically no meaning. It 1s still
dominated by the ancient Olympians, and though they may no longer inspire
faith, they are still indispensable elements of their poetry.
Hellenistic art and science is mainly connected with Alexandria, the great
conqueror’s foundation on the western arm of the Nile-delta. Even if the
proportions of the tradition — in Egypt alone the dry desert-sand provided the
conditions for the preservation of papyri— tend to make the differences appear
greater, there can still be no doubt that the Egypt of the Ptolemies was far
superior to the great realm of the Seleucids in activity and productivity of its
intellectual life. Two reasons suggest themselves directly, of which we place the
generous provisions of the Ptolemies first. We already made mention of the
founding of the Museum, a scientific workshop which permitted scholars in all
fields to carry on research far from daily worries and political upheavals (p. 3),
when we discussed the gigantic library of this institute and its vicissitudes. In
addition the varying conditions of settlement should be borne in mind. While
the Greek population of Egypt settled mainly in some density on the lower
course of the Nile, in a relatively restricted area, they spread in the realm of the
Seleucids from the Aegean on to the Hindu Kush over enormous areas. A
simple calculation shows that even in the big cities of this realm, such as Antioch
on the Orontes, Seleucia on the Tigris and the city of the same name in Pieria,
the Greek stratum cannot have been very strong.
The Macedonian kingdom of the Antigonids did not have a direct share in
the intellectual activity of the period which demands special mention. When
Athens was occasionally occupied by the Macedonians, life, as we saw, went on
a. usual. Besides Alexandria, Pergamum should at least be seriously considered,
although it did not begin to flourish until a good deal later. The defeat of
Antiochus III near Magnesia on the Sipylus (190) enabled the small state of
Pergamum to become a large power which ruled almost all of Asia Minor,
though of course this was largely due to its friendship with Rome. Under the
ambitious Attalids this political rise went hand in hand with a splendid develop-
ment of the arts and sciences. The new role of Pergamum demonstrates clearly
how the emphasis had shifted in the time following the peak of the Hellenistic
era.' No longer did Alexandria predominate as before: the coastal and island
fortresses developed and maintained by the Ptolemies could no longer be
protected by a strong navy, financial strength declined, pressure on the other
Successor-kingdoms decreased. Under Antiochus III Antioch rose to a high
cultural peak, even if the fall of Seleucid power was not far off. The town reached
the top of its development later under the Roman empire. But Rhodes, which
managed to maintain its freedom even in periods of the heaviest pressure of the

' p. PEDECH, Erasmus 1960, 47, makes some stimulating observations about the periods of
the Hellenistic age. He describes the period of 250-168 as moyen hellénisme, characterized by
a new susceptibility, emotional and realistic, occasionally inclined toward the baroque; he
considers the years 168-30 as the last section, a time ofintellectual reaction, of consolidation
of earlier results and of synthesis in various fields.
696
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

Ptolemies, took a leading position with a vigorous intellectual life. We shall

come across the island in connection with the names of poets, thinkers and
orators; great Romans visited it to study there.
From the foregoing it will have become clear that the Hellenistic age displays
a great variety of aspects. Its characterization defies any formula, but a number
of essential features can be inferred from the historical fact that now the polis
as the fixed centre which controlled people’s ideas and mode of living definitely
belongs to the past. Many Greek cities, especially the ones in Asia Minor,
managed to maintain various degrees of independence at various times within
the kingdoms of the Successors; but this does not alter the fact that in the
centres of Hellenistic culture itself forces of a totally different nature were at
work.
The lack of a fixed centre corresponds with the broadening of strong con-
trasts in the new proportions and forms of life. One of the most striking features
of the Hellenistic age is its tendency towards large dimensions in which there
seems to be some legacy of the spirit of Alexander. The newly founded cities
were of gigantic proportions and their Hippodamian method of construction
(v. p. 527) made long rows of streets cross one another at right angles; Alex-
andria exceeds everything with its artificial port-installations, the lighthouse
on the island of Pharos, a work by Sostratus of Cnidos, which was later counted
among the wonders of the world, and the royal quarter which with the buildings
for the court, the barracks, the chancelleries, the museum and a theatre formed
a city within the big city. In Achilles Tatius’ description of Alexandria (5. 1) the
greatness of the impression which the visitor received can still be detected in
spite of the rhetoric. The architect Dinocrates had a dominant share in the
planning and building of the city; his name is connected with a project which
is characteristic like none other for the megalomaniac characteristics of the
Hellenistic age; Mount Athos was to be carved into one huge statue of Alexan-
der; in the one hand he was to carry a city, while he would let the waters of the
mountain flow from the other. The same tendency is expressed in many other
instances, such as the Helios-colossus of Rhodes, the gigantic procession of
Ptolemy Philadelphus,' in Hiero II’s huge freight-vessel, in the tremendous
siege-engines. And yet this same time developed a playful delight in the diminu-
tive and the dainty; it was the first to discover the individuality of the child in
body and nature,” and created products of the art of the miniature.
The Hellenistic era is the time in which Greek science reaches its climax in the
conception of the heliocentrical system by Aristarchus of Samos. At the same
time, however, we see superstition rife, although it prevailed in the other
stratum, which fused together a great variety of elements, to a large extent of
non-Greek origin. In Theocritus’ Pharmaceutria we have impressive proof that at
that time its subsequent widespread occurrence was being anticipated. But in one
case the two contrasting aspects just mentioned met to produce an illegitimate
t In honour of the deol owrfpes Ptolemy I and Berenice, instituted in 279 or 270. On the
dating Nilsson (v. sup.), 159, 4. Elaborate description by Callixinus in Ath. 5, 196 ff.
2 H, HERTER, ‘Das Kind im Zeitalter des Hellenismus’. Bonner Jahrb. 132, 1927, 250.
697
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

child of sinister vitality. Nilsson! justifiably claimed in explanation of the

rise of astrology as a well-organized pseudo-science that the ancient Chaldaean
belief in stars in Hellenistic Egypt was elaborated by the Greeks into the detailed
system which has maintained its power over people’s minds up to the present
day. In the time of the Ptolemies an astrological work, a regular Domesday
book of this ineradicable pseudo-science, was written, which appeared under
the twin-name of Nechepso-Petosiris* and which found a great following, just
as the book ascribed to Hermes Trismegistus.*
Another paradox which seems to us to be characteristic of the Hellenistic era
is that to an even greater extent than in the fourth century the individual has
freed himself from the ties of tradition; generally all he asks of the state (it can
hardly be called the community any longer) is that it guarantees him peace and
personal security. But at the same time, in spite of individualism, a certain
external uniformity begins to become apparent. However splendid the Hellen-
istic architecture of Pergamum or Miletus may appear to us, in the numerous
little Greek cities of the time temples, colonnades, theatres, gymnasiums and
baths came out of the same mould of a classicism which had come to a standstill.
Thus in the later Hellenistic era we see an anticipation of the uniformity which
passed on to Roman provincial building generally only little variety of style.
In the sphere of language the tension between various directions also becomes
evident. The Hellenistic age completed a development which left to the
individual dialects only a restricted local usage or an occasional literary role,
while KoineS assumes a dominant position as the means of intercourse through-
out the new kingdoms. The era of Athenian hegemony had already given to
Attic Greek a corresponding dominance and expansion, in which the close
contacts with the Ionian territories of Asia Minor were not without influence.
The decisive fact was that the Macedonian overlords or a new era made ‘the
Ionized Great-Attic dialect, stripped of some striking peculiarities’ (Schwyzer)
into the official language and guaranteed its diffusion in the states of the Dia-
dochi. In this time social differentiation is still, of course, an important factor.
1 (v. sup.), 268 with bibl. a. J. FesTUGIERE, La Révélation d’ Hermes Trismégiste I. L’astrologie
et les sciences occultes. Paris 1950. A good introduction by BOLL-BEZOLD-GUNDEL, Sternglaube
und Sterndeutung. 4th ed. Leipz. 1931. A good deal also in F. H. CRAMER, Astrology in Roman
Law and Politics. Memoirs of the Am. Philos. Soc. 37. Philadelphia 1954.
2 The part played by Egyptian elements is difficult to assess, cf. H. G. GUNDEL, Gnom. 28,
OKO, 7A
3 On a dating immediately before 150 B.c. now W. BURKERT, Phil. 105, 1961, 30. On
contents and evaluation A. WLOSOK, Laktanz und die philosophische Gnosis. Abh. Ak. Heidelb.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1960/2, 35. According to a fragment in the prooemium of Book 6 of vETTIUS
VALENS’ Anthologiae Nechepso was carried off by a divine being and taken for a heavenly
ride through the astral universe.
* The sorry mass of tradition of later times is made accessible by the Catalogus codicum
astrologorum Graecorum. Brussels since 1898. Latest St. Weinstock 9/1, 1951; 9/2 1953: Codices
Britannici. The vols. of the Catalogus also contain selected texts.
5 Best survey in BE. SCHWYZER, Griech. Gramm. 1, Munich 1939, 116. In add. L. RADER-
MACHER, Koine. Sitzber. Ak. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl. 224/5, 1947. J. PALM, Uber Sprache und Stil
des Diodoros von Sizilien. Lund 1955, 194 (general points of view). Vv. PISANI in: Encicl. Class.
SerallV oles.) ual SOceEdaintaiooommis:
698
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
There is a difference between popular Koine and standard Hellenistic prose; in
authors of the late fourth century its beginnings are already apparent and its
development is completed by 250. Our most important sources of evidence are
Polybius and Diodorus, apart from some scientific authors such as Apollonius
of Perga or Philo of Byzantium and historical papyri.
While in this way a certain standardization of the linguistic forms was carried
through in everyday Hellenistic life, including the activity of a considerable
administrative organization, we find in another sphere of linguistic life a
tendency toward the extraordinary, exaggerated, almost baroque. Early in the
third century a reaction arose against Isocrates’ period with its symmetrical
construction and ready intelligibility. Attempts were made to avoid these
qualities of the Attic school and to replace these by the new style, mainly
elaborated in Asia Minor; it aftected a conscious restlessness of style by means
of a rapid succession of brief clauses and, in imitation of Gorgias, through an
unnatural accumulation of words that excited with sense or sound. The new
style is supposed to have been originated by Hegesias of Magnesia of whom
Cicero (Or. 226) says uncharitably that once you knew him, there was no need
to look any further for a man of bad taste. Hegesias also made an attempt at
writing a history of Alexander and thus contributed to the infection of historio-
graphy with this abstruse style. Cicero, who witnessed the flourishing in Rome
of Asianism in Hortensius Hortalus, divides (Brutus 325) it into two forms, one
of which aimed at daintiness without depth of thought, the other at a grand
loftiness. The long inscription of Antiochus I of Commagene on the Nemrud
Dagh in Taurus' gives an impressive example of the latter.
Our brief survey served to bring out the diversity of phenomena and the
great internal unrest of this age. Particularly in the initial period the Hellenistic
era was a time of great independent achievements in many fields. But in later
antiquity it failed to carry on in the same way to elaborate these achievements.
Much of the gain fell into oblivion or its growth was arrested; from this point of
view this time appears to be one of transition which brought important develop-
ments to conclusion, at the same time breaking ground for the entirely new and
different growth which came into the world with Christianity.

Good survey in w. w. TARN, Hellenistic Civilisation, 3rd ed. (by G. Th.

Griffith), London 1952. M. RostovrzerF, Social and Economic History of the
Hellenistic World. 3 vols. Oxf. 1941, is the standard work. v. EHRENBERG, Der
Staat der Griechen II. Der hellenistische Staat. Leipz. 1958. Id., The Greek State,
Oxf. 1960. A. B. RANOWITSCH, Der Hellenismus und seine geschichtliche Rolle.
(transl. from the Russian) Berlin 1958. A. J. TOYNBEE, Hellenism. The History of
a Civilisation. Lond. 1959. (The Home Univ. Libr. vol. 238); also v. EHRENBERG,
Historia 8, 1959, 491. F. SCHACHERMEYR, Griech. Geschichte. Stuttg. 1960, 323.
1 Orientis Graec. Inscr. t, 383. JALABERT ET MOUTERDE, Inscr. gr. et lat. de la Syrie 1, no. 1.
Stylistic analysis: E. NORDEN, Die antike Kunstprosa 1, 1898, 141.
699
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

On Alexander’s intellectual influence a. HEUSS, Ant. u. Abendl. 4, 1954, 65. Very

useful bibl. in H. BENGTSON, Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 415 and 443,
and in the collective work Der Hellenismus in der deutschen Forschung 1938-1948.
Wiesbaden 1956. Vol. 4 of the Historia Mundi, Bern 1956, contains a stimulating
synopsis by aA. AYMARD and F. GSCHNITZER. — On religion: M. P. NILSSON,
Gesch. d. gr. Rel. 2nd ed. Munich 1961. v. GRONBECH, Der Hellenismus. Lebens-
bestimmung. Weltmacht. Gott. 1953 (abbreviated transl. of the Danish work
Hellenismen) stands alone. In this book the Empire is projected on to one surface
with what we call the Hellenistic age and in a most one-sided manner the
individual’s care of his soul is made into the guiding principle. F. SUSEMIHL,
Gesch. der griech. Lit. in der Alexanderzeit. 2 vols. Leipz. 1891/2 is still important
for the whole literature of this period because ofits copious material.

2 SGALLIMAGCH
US

What we learned in the preceding section about the Asianic reaction against the
classical prose of Isocrates may be in itself not very attractive, but it did reveal
one definite fact; there was no inclination to be satisfied with an imitation of
approved models of an unnecessary classicism. The era had enough individual
vitality to develop new trends of style. The same process took place in the
province of poetry, but the new style, achieved and perfected by poets like
Callimachus and Theocritus, was strong enough to escape being overwhelmed
by subsequent classicist coatings.
The poets mentioned belonged to a circle whose activity falls within a very
limited period of the Hellenistic era. It is not a coincidence that it corresponds
largely with the reign of Ptolemy II Philadelphus (285 co-regent, 283 sole regent
until 247). This king did not only take care of the library and the museum as his
father before him; he tied the leading figures more closely to the court and
made this the centre of a cultural life with an Alexandrian character which
maintained its independence within the Hellenistic civilization while still
forming part of it. His sister-consort Arsinoe II had a decisive influence on this
development. But the share which the court played was only one strand in the
rich texture of this art. Its close affinity with learning was more important, and
this is most clearly evident when science and poetry meet in one person. This
literature does not address itself to the many, it postulates a great deal which
is disclosed only to the expert, its language both avoids adopting traditional
formulae without alteration and removes itself from the scene of every day.
Grandiose loftiness and unreserved emotionality are forbidden. The poet is in a
private circle and the exquisite things he has to relate do not bear loud sounds.
In the prologue to his Aetia Callimachus points to Philitas of Cos as the model
of an art! which has mastered subtlety of expression; the Latin elegiac poets
considered him to be their leader? and to us he is also the originator of the new
poetry. For the literature of the Hellenistic era we are badly provided with
' On the problems of the passage v. p. 711 on the Aetia.
Passages
2 p
in
}
M. PUELMA, Mus.
y .
Helv. 11, 1954, 103, 6; there p. 114 on the restoration
Philetae in Catullus 95, 9 which is still doubtful.
700
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
precise dates. We can only state of Philitas! that he lived at the time of Alexander
and Ptolemy I. It was a step of great moment when the latter invited him to be
the educator of the later Philadelphus. We do not know how long the Coan
remained in Alexandria, but no doubt he exerted a strong influence there. The
librarian Zenodotus, Hermesianax the poet of the Leontion, and Theocritus are
mentioned as his pupils. Even if Id. 7. 40 should be the source of a fiction in the
case of Theocritus we must at any rate reckon with a lasting influence of Philitas
on the growth of a new literature. What we glimpse of his work is scanty
enough.? But it is important to know that he selected rare words, hardly or no
longer intelligible, from old poems and that in his publication of the collection
as Unarranged Glosses (“Ataxrou yA@ooar) he expressly renounced a systematic
treatment. The interest of the scholar and the desire of the littérateur (he was
called roumrijs dua Kal Kpitixds) to avoid the ordinary were blended in a
manner which remained influential in Alexandrian poetry and led to deliberate
ornamentation as well as baffling rococo complexity. The very scanty remnants
of Philitas’ poetry rather suggest that he knew how to be moderate in the
application of the ‘selected’ material. Hermesianax (fr. 2. 77 D.) and Ovid
(Trist. 1. 6, 2; Ex Ponto 3. 1, 57) allude to poems, probably elegies which he
addressed to Bittis (or Battis), a lover or wife, not a playful fiction, as was
thought.? We possess nothing of this poetry, but here we find ourselves face to
face with the much discussed question whether Hellenistic literature already
developed the personal love elegy which we find in its complete form in Latin
poetry. There will always be some uncertainty attached to this problem, since
we only possess a fraction of the work produced, but it may be stated that no
fragment and no information of Hellenistic poetry points to elegies in the
manner of Tibullus or Propertius. Nor does the material preserved recommend
this assumption by any means. Thus Aug. Rostagni+ may have understood the
development correctly when he spoke of a ‘rovesciamento degli elementi’;
mythology predominated in the Hellenistic volumes of elegies, although the
author’s personality put its stamp on it. In Latin elegy, however, it is only an
item of decoration (the necessity of which could be argued about) in a world of
personal experience and passions. But it should be borne in mind that a clear
line runs, in point of themes, from the Hellenistic epigram to the elegy, though
the depth of perception may have been different with the Romans.
t Many write Philetas, we follow the inscriptions, cf. s. F. GoW, Theocritus 1950, 2, 141.
Otherwise v. BLUMENTHAL, RE 19, 1938, 2165.
2 The fragments in G. KUCHENMULLER, Diss. Berl. 1928; those from the pocins: J. U.
POWELL, Collectanea Alexandrina. Oxf. 1925, 90. Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 49 D. with bibl.
3} KUCHENMULLER (v. sup.), 25 also reads Barré8a in Hermesianax in accordance with the
Ovid-tradition and takes Barris as yA@ooa who thus would be Philitas’ beloved. The Jest is
imaginable in Hermesianax, but one will have to be careful about explaining the Ovid-
passages from a misunderstanding.
4 ‘L’ influenza greca sulle origini dell’ elegia erotica latina’ in Entretiens sur l'antiquité class.
2. Vandceuvres-Geneva 1953 (with discussion). Further A. A. DAY, The Origins ofLatin Love
Elegy. Oxf. 1938 with older bibl., which also in CHRIST-SCHMID, Gesch. d. gr. Lit. 6th ed. 2/1,
Munich 1920, 118, 3. to which should be added that F. LEO, Plautin. Forsch. Berl. 1895 started
the ball rolling; cf. also HERTER, Bursian (v. sup.), 77:
701
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

We know of Philitas that he wrote a Demeter! in the clegiac metre. The

epyllion Hermes was composed in hexameters; its content 1s reproduced by
Parthenius. It is interesting to observe how the love theme is introduced into the
old story of Odysseus and the wind-god by means of an adventure of the much-
travelled hero with Polymele, Acolus’ daughter. Hellenistic poetry is fond of
picking up remote aspects from mythology or of inventing ingenious new ones.
So we must not ask why the poem was called Hermes. Of a Telephus we only
know the title and a notice referring to the legend of the Argonauts. The fact
that the poet’s father was called Telephus should not be brought into relation
with the poem. Of Philitas’ Trifles (Ilaéyvea) and Epigrams only traces have
been preserved.
We are in a much better position with regard to Callimachus; although many
questions have to remain unanswered, we can still grasp the main traits of his
work and understand that it is the climax of Alexandrian poetry. Callimachus
was born in Cyrene a few years before 300 — we have no precise dates either for
his birth or death. According to the article in Suidas, our main source for his
life, his father was called Battus, the name of the city’s founder. According to
Strabo (17. 837) the family traced its origin back to this illustrious ancestor.
No doubt this is what Callimachus means when he calls himself Battiad (Ep. 35).
In Epigram 21 he states that his grandfather, who had the same name as the poet,
won fame as strategos. His distinguished origin could not shield him from want.
When he went to Alexandria as a young man, he had to earn a living as a
primary schoolteacher in the suburb of Eleusis. From his subsequent success we
may conclude that in this condition he also worked at his education with
stubborn industry. The grammarian Hermocrates of Iasus is mentioned as his
teacher; we cannot determine in what period. We do not know when he had
the good fortune to draw Philadelphus’ attention; nor of what nature his first
connection with the court was. Little sense can be made of Tzetze’s remark2
which described him as veavicxos ths avAjs. And so we adhere to the fact
that, under Ptolemy II, Callimachus was entrusted with the formidable task of
making the possessions of the Alexandrian library usable. The start of this
undertaking should not be dated too late.} Only if Callimachus began it in his
early manhood can we understand that he completed the 120 books of his
Pinaces (Uivakes trav €v mdon madeta Siadappdvtwr Kai dv ovvéypaibay, fr.
429-253 Pf.). Although Zenodotus with a few assistants like Alexander of
Pleuron and Lycophron had done some preliminary arranging, the task as
Callimachus set about it made tremendous demands. First he had to make a
division according to the main realms of literature such as epic, lyric, drama,
oratory, etc.; within each of these all authors had to be arranged, in alphabetical
order, separating the different genres in the work of an individual author which
in turn were probably also arranged alphabetically. Since the works were by no
means clearly titled, Callimachus also listed the initial words and the number of
lines. When we observe furthermore that he added in each case a brief
' New mention in the schol. Ox. Pap. 2258 on HAynin 2, 33, cf. Pfeiffer 2, LI and 47
2 De com. gr. 31, 13 K.=test. 14 c Pf. 3S. HERTER, Bursian (v. inf.), 87.
702
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

biography of the author, and necessarily had to express an opinion on questions

of authorship in numerous cases, we understand that a considerable piece of
literary-historical research went into the writing of this catalogue. The frag-
ment of a commentary on Bacchylides, Ox. Pap. 23. 1956, No. 2368, shows that
this research was also subject to criticism. Aristarchus censored Callimachus
because he had included the dithyramb Cassandra among the paeans. We also
learn that a certain Dionysius of Phaselis agreed with Aristarchus’ characteriza-
tion of the poem as a dithyramb. The importance of the Pinaces as a basis for all
further research can be seen, for instance, from Aristophanes of Byzantium’s
treatise On the Pinaces of Callimachus (fr. 453 Pf.) which purported to complete
and correct it. Athenaeus’ quotations from it show (9. 408 f.) that genuinely
difficult questions of semantics could crop up. The importance and complexity
of special fields induced Callimachus to treat them separately. We can still trace
his work on Democritus (Ilva€ tv Anpoxpirov yAwoodv Kat ovvtaypdtwv)
and on drama (Iliaé Kat avaypad7) THv Kata ypovous Kai am’ apyfs yevo-
pevwv didackdAwv), for which work Aristotle prepared the ground with
his Didascaliae (cf. p. 572).
However closely Callimachus may have been connected with the library of
Alexandria, he never was its head. We do not know why it was not he, but his
pupil Apollonius of Rhodes, who was Zenodotus’ successor. But it may be
assumed that the prolonged argument about Callimachus’ librarianship! has
been settled by Ox. Pap. no. 1241 (no. 1611 P.), in which the list of librarians
begins with Apollonius Rhodius and is continued with Eratosthenes, Aristo-
phanes of Byzantium, Apollonius the idographer? and Aristarchus. Now since
Tzetzes (p. 25, 13; 32, 38 Kaibel) in two places calls Aristarchus the fourth or
fifth librarian after Zenodotus, there is no room left for Callimachus. The fact
that the papyrus mentions a second Apollonius in this series has made it possible
to explain misunderstandings about which we shall have to speak in connection
with the biography and work of the Rhodian. It is difficult to form an opinion
on his relationship with Callimachus and this question will be dealt with when
the prologue to the Aetia is discussed.
Callimachus was still alive when Euergetes came to the throne. The only
poem which we can date with precision is the one on Berenice’s Locks; it is based
on events of the year 246/245 and its composition falls within this time. That
Berenice, Ptolemy Euergetes’ consort, is the ruler meant in the epilogue of the
Aetia (fr. 112, 2 Pf.) seems more likely now that the assumption that Arsinoe
was referred to in the prologue has lost ground. Epigram 51 also extols the wife
of Euergetes. We do not know for how long Callimachus lived under this
ruler, but the traditional date of his death in 240 will not be very far wrong.
The work of this scholar and poet was tremendous, even if we do not
altogether credit Suidas’ assertion that he wrote 800 volumes. We already spoke
of his great catalogue and some related aspects. We possess a considerable
' Bibl. in HERTER (v. sup.).
2 On confusion in the text, which makes it possible to date the idographer before Aristo-
phanes: HERTER, Rhein. Mus. 91, 1942, 315. 3 Cf. Pfeiffer 2, XL.
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number of other titles of prose-works which remind us of the broad span of

interests in Peripatetic circles. but which at the same time suggest the collector
of curiosa. The book On Contests may have had some connection with the
catalogue work; the title Customs of Foreign Peoples (BapBapixa vopya) which
we met already with Hellanicus (p. 330) has the ring of ancient Ionian toToptn.
Ethnically Varying Names (EO@vixai dvoyaciat) collecting the descriptions of
similar objects in different areas was a work of a glossographical nature. It is the
first example we have of a lexicon arranged in groups of subjects. It seems to be
fairly certain that a treatise mentioned by Suidas On the Changes of Names of
Fishes (Ilept perovopacias' ty@dwv) is part of this work; there is no such
proof for the writings Names of Months according to Peoples and Cities (Myvav
mpoonyopiar Kata €Ovos? Kai odes), On Winds (llepi avéuwv), On Birds
(Ilepi dpvéwv). A work On the Rivers of the World (Ilept trav ev 7H otxovupevn
moTap@v) points to geographical interests, one On the Founding of Islands and
Cities and Changes of Names (Krices vycwy kat 7ohewy Kal retovopaciat) to
both historical and glossographical interests; behind the title Curiosities Collected
all over the World according to Place (Oavpatwv tav els drracay THY yhv Kata
rémous auvaywyn), however, we recognize the classifying collector of all that
is odd. In this way Callimachus founded paradoxography, which was cultivated
long after antiquity and the Middle Ages, until the earth became small and the
spell of remoteness disappeared. Antigonus of Carystus utilized Callimachus’
work for part? of his Book of Marvels (‘Ioropidv rapaddéwy cvvaywy%),
changing the arrangement according to place into one according to subject. The
title On the Nymphs points to mythology, while Hepi Aoyadwy remains unin-
telligible. The report of a work Against Praxiphanes, however, is of some interest.
This interpretation of the title IIpos Hpagéupavyy is proved to be correct by the
Florentine scholium on the beginning of the Aetia, in which Praxiphanes appears
among Callimachus’ opponents. This Peripatetic no doubt wrote On Poets and
On Poems in the spirit of Aristotle, challenging Callimachus to defend the
foundations of the new poetry. The titles of Museum, also used by Alcidamas
(p. 353) and Hypomnemata presumably point to scholarly collections.
We have somewhat elaborated on this subject not only for the sake of
Callimachus, but because this series of titles illustrates the interests of a literature
which has a scope in the Hellenistic age whose breadth is unparalleled.
We have so little reliable support for the dates of Callimachus’ poems that we
proceed to discuss them according to the various conditions of preservation and
tradition and will deal with their chronology in each case. The great variety in
the transmission also makes it desirable to discuss it in connection with the
individual works rather than at the end in the customary way.
The Hymns and Epigrams have come down through manuscript tradition.
For the former it was decisive that an unknown collector combined them in one
corpus together with the Homeric Hymns, those of Orpheus, the Orphic
' Daub conjectured carovopacias.
* Pfeiffer, 1, 339 takes xara vy into consideration.
3 Chap. 129-end, text in Pfeiffer fr. 407.

704
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
Argonautica and Proclus’ Hymns. One epigram, copied together with the hymns,
which also enumerates other works of Callimachus’ (Test. 23 Pf.), was not
written before the sixth century and probably even considerably later. This fixes
the upper limit for the insertion of the Hymns in the collection. Remnants of all
the hymns, except the fifth, have come to light in papyri.! These give rise to the
suspicion that our manuscript-tradition has suffered more than was so far
assumed. This tradition is copious and permits a number of hyparchetypes to be
derived which in turn all go back to the collector who gathered the books of
hymns just mentioned in one corpus.
The Book of Hymns, which we possess entire, begins, of course, with one
dedicated to Zeus. As we shall see, it was written earlier than the others and
already displays all the traits of this poetry which abounds in assumptions and
substrata. The question asked in the first stanza, to whom else but Zeus one
should sing when pouring the libation, sets the scene of a symposium. Not
a cult-celebration, but the company of congenial friends receptive to erudite
subtlety, is the frame-work of these poems. The whole hymn is constructed on
the traditional plan of composition of religious hymns; the opening with the
legend of the birth must be followed by the praise of divine achievements (the
yovai followed by the dperai of the god). The very opening shows what
Callimachus has made of the old elements. Where actually was Zeus born?
Arcadians and Cretans put forward their claims, but it is known, of course, that
all Cretans are liars at all times, for they have fathered a tomb on the immortal
god! All this is not presented with the seriousness of the critic or the solemnity
of the inspired singer; it is a sport with the tradition although it never tries to
devaluate or scorn it as a rationalist might, but rather savours its treasure, its
venerableness, its poetry, and imparts this to others. The fact that the learned
Callimachus stands far above the mythical tradition while at the same time
sensing the power and beauty it possesses constitutes the peculiar charm of his
creations, which are equally remote from assured prophecy as from rational
criticism. Adorning his story with odd bits of knowledge of Arcadian streams
and nymphs, he tells how Zeus was born in the Arcadian province of Parrhasia,
how Rhea struck water from a mountain in the dry country and handed over
the child to the nymph Neda. But the poet always succeeds in harmonizing with
the charm of his verse what the scholar cannot forbear putting in. The Hymn to
Zeus brings out another feature of Callimachean poetry; the selective element is
obvious in the unequal compactness of the narrative. The rearing of the child in
Crete is already dealt with much more briefly than the Arcadian birtn, and
Callimachus does not think at all of lingering over the god’s deeds. It is more
important for him to inveigh against a piece of tradition, in this case Homeric
(II. 15. 187); it is a foolish invention that Zeus had drawn lots with his brothers
for shares in the rule of the world. Actually the brothers ceded sovereign
authority to the younger, because they recognized his superiority. It is true that
Hesiod’s variant (Theog. 881) is played off against Homer’s and that the poet
1 The only authoritative synopsis in Pfeiffer, 2, LI; there also LX XXIII the manuscript
stemma.

795
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

does not point with one word to a special context of the passage.’ Yet we can
hardly help suspecting that the renunciation of Zeus’ brothers was brought in,
because he had to serve as a model for the elder half-brother of Philadelphus,
Ceraunus.
The final passage pays homage to the king as him whose might inspires his
thoughts with perfection. The greeting to the god, typical of the end of a
hymn, follows. The poet begs for virtue and riches; we hear in this the poet
who hopes for promotion from his king, the earthly Zeus, in his straitened
circumstances. In other ways the manner in which Philadelphus appears in the
hymn also indicates a period during which Callimachus was not so close to the
court as at the zenith of his fame.
We next add the fourth and the fifth hymns, since the other three form a
group with common characteristics. The Third Hymn, dedicated to Artemis,
strongly brings out the blending of different elements of subject-matter and
style. The second part (v. 183) begins with a question about the islands,
mountains, ports, cities, nymphs and heroines which are particularly dear to the
goddess’s heart and so introduces a passage which has almost the character of a
manual, although the calculated art of variety turns even such an enumeration
into poetry. The first part also contains erudite information. When we are told
that the Cyclops’ island Lipara was still called Meligunis when young Artemis
visited it, we listen to the scholar who wrote on the changing of the names of
islands and cities, as in the first hymn we remembered the writer of treatises on
rivers and nymphs. But this first part of the hymn draws three unforgettable
pictures full of a humour which is never coarse and never offends, the humour
which constitutes the intimate charm of Callimachean poetry as the subtlest
expression of intellectual superiority. The little goddess is sitting on the knees of
her father Zeus, wheedling everything out of him that she has set her heart on;
then again we see her in a similar position with the Cyclops as she pulls the hair
by the handfuls out of the chest of the benevolent giant Brontes; finally
Heracles is brought in, who even in Olympus has not lost his appetite. He is
always waiting at the gate when Artemis returns home with her bag and
cunningly teaches her to kill pigs, which harm the crops, instead of hares and
does. And since roast beef is a tasty dish, cattle have to be harmful too. It is
useful to place this beside the coarse effect of humour of the Homeric Hermes-
hymn to appreciate the distance between two totally different spheres of poetry.
The Fourth Hymn, celebrating Delos as Apollo’s birthplace, is a purely literary
creation like the others. Attempts to establish a connection between the hymn
and a specific Delian festival led to mistakes. It is clear that in the portrayal of
Leto’s wanderings and her confinement in Delos, the island which until then
had been restlessly floating about, Callimachus had in mind the Homeric hymn
to Delian Apollo. But it would be erroneous to call it an imitation, since the
many changes, additions and the altered emphasis stresses the original character
of the new artistic trend — and we may speak of a most deliberate trend —
forcibly enough. As a story the hymn is more complete than the two discussed
' Stressed by HERTER, RE S 5, 1931, 437, 62.
706
 THE HELLENISTIG AGE

before; Callimachus achieves a special effect when he makes cities, countries and
rivers run away for fear of Hera at Leto’s request for a refuge. We must not
attempt a concrete interpretation here; the ancient Greek unity of location and
divinity has here been utilized for a peculiar effect in a manner which Ovid
knew well how to handle. The same device is employed when in our hymn
(264) Delos takes the child Apollo to her breast while at the same time she
speaks as the island.
In the very middle of the hymn Callimachus has inserted a homage to
Philadelphus which combined humour with praise. When still in the womb,
Apollo is already skilled in prophecy, and when Leto is approaching the island
of Cos he asks her not to bring him into the world where one day another god
is to be born, a Ptolemy to whom the earth will be subject. Since Philadelphus
appears here as a god, the deification which followed Arsinoe’s death in 270 is
presumed. On the other hand, the lines are founded on Egypt’s imperious
claims to world-power which could no longer be checked after the end of the
Chremonidean war,! especially after the fall of Athens (263-262). These facts
produce relatively narrow limits for the date of writing. It can merely be con-
jectured that the third was written in the same period.
A brief glance at contents and structure are needed to give reasons why the
Second, Fifth and Sixth Hymns should be combined more closely. The Second,
addressed to Apollo, differs even more from the continuous narrative epic style
than the hymns discussed. With the very first few lines we are flung into the ex-
citement of a crowd in front of a temple, impatiently waiting for the epiphany of
its god. As in the case of the Fourth and Fifth Hymns, we must throughout assume
a speaker who clearly reveals himself as a man from Cyrene, in other words the
poet himself. His words capture the festive mood and the marvel of the
epiphany;? they show us a boys’ choir and extol the god’s beauty and the well-
known spheres of his power, and then abruptly and surprisingly he tells the
story of how he founded the city. This provides an opportunity to relate the rise
of Cyrene where the god had the most splendid ceremonies at the Carnean
festival. We can understand that Callimachus is fond of talking of his native
town, but there is an additional factor; the king placed next to Apollo in line 26
is Ptolemy III Euergetes, as stated by the scholium. Now the alliance of this
ruler with the Cyrenaic princess Berenice, the daughter of Magas, which took
place immediately before his accession, returned Cyrene to Egypt. The reference
to Ptolemy III dates the hymn in the poet’s old age and we may appreciate the
special dramatization of the style, the increased vividness of representation,
coupled with a close sympathy for religious feelings as the perfection of his
t On the dating of the battle of Cos H. BENGTSON, Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich 1960,
397, 1.On the date of the Fourth Hymn also P. VON DER MUHLL, ‘Die Zeit des Apollonhymnos
des Kall’. Mus. Helv. 15, 1958, 8.
2 O. WEINREICH, Gebet und Wunder. Tiib. Beitr. 5, 1929, 231, 59, and generally on the
introit of the hymn; cf. also J. KROLL, Gott und Holle. Leipz. 1932, 480. Ext. bibl. in HERTER,
Bursian (v. sup.), 196. Inadd. HOWALD, Der Dichter K. (v. sup.), 86. H. ERBSE, ‘Zum Apollon-
hymnos des K.’ Herm. 83, 1955, 411. P. VON DER MUHLL, ‘Die Zeit des Apollonhymnos
des K.’ Mus. Helv. 15, 1958, 1, attempts to call the late date in question.
797
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

endeavours in this province. It is quite typical of Callimachus that the arbitrary

compositional form, which often leaves the sequence and connection of in-
dividual details vague, is contrasted by an arrangement in almost stanza-like
paragraphs.
True to the Callimachean manner, the praise of Cyrene is followed by an
aetion; the worshippers’ shout hie paieon is explained from the shots (évac) taken
at the dragon Python. The manner in which the final passage abruptly passes
over into the personal is reminiscent of the sphragis of ancient citharodic poetry
(cf. p. 129); with a kick Apollo chases away Phthonos, the daemon of envy,
because the latter wanted to convince him that only lengthy poetry, large like
the sea, was important. But the god knows that the mighty Euphrates carries
along mud and refuse, while pure water as used for ritual is fetched from a
trickling spring. The poet finishes with the wish that Momus, censure, may
follow Phthonos. The question of the opponents whom he wards off in this
way will be dealt with in the discussion of the prologue to the Aetia.
The Fifth Hymn, the bath of Pallas, firstly surprises us with its form. Like the
sixth it is written in Doric, which is not simply the poet’s native dialect, but a
literary language which varies epic diction with Dorisms. The fifth is the only
hymn to display elegiac metre. Wilamowitz' has pointed out that the use of
anaphorae and the segmentation of cola and commata is unlike that of epic; but
the composition and the method of narrative do not differ in considerable detail
from the related hexameter poems. Again we have a speaker — we can think of
him as the master of ceremonies — who gives orders, explains and reports the
proceedings of a cult-celebration and very vividly passes on the religious atmo-
sphere of the festival, the tension rather than the emotion.* We are in front of
the temple of Athena of Argos at a festival which features the ritual bath of the
goddess’s statue; this does not, of course, imply that this Alexandrian poem was
written for the Argive festival. The poem is especially fascinating because the
progress of the goddess’s image to the Inachus has been combined with the bath
of the goddess herself'in a way which does not permit rational analysis, diffusing
over the whole the splendour of a divine epiphany. The festival themes include
the story of Tiresias, told at some length, who loses his sight on glimpsing the
goddess in her bath.
The composition of the Sixth Hymn is done along the same line; ritual pro-
ceedings are reported with thrilling directness through the mouth of a speaker
who also tells the myth behind the cult. We are eagerly anticipating the proces-
sion which in the service of Demeter is going to pass by with the sacred objects
of her mystery. The procession probably takes place in Cyrene, where Demeter
was worshipped} or in Alexandria, where the suburb Eleusis provided such
excitements, but such a search for precise detail is of little importance for the
atmosphere of this poem. Here, too, the speaker tells of the dreadful violence
with which the goddess can punish when she has been offended. The story of

' Hellenist. Dicht. 2, Berl. 1924; reprinted 1961, 15.

* K. J. MCKAY, The poet at play, Kallimachos. The Bath ofPallas. Leiden 1962.
3 Cf. HERTER, Bursian (v. inf.), 209.
708
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

Erysichthon serves as an example; he felled some trees in the sacred grove of the
goddess and was punished with an unsatiably voracious appetite. The story of
the white-tailed terror of mice who is also forced to go to the kitchen in the end
brightens up this edifying tale of crime and punishment with a gaily ironical
light — a genuine and lovable Callimachean touch.'
There are no positive aids available for dating these last two hymns, but
perhaps their structural affinity with the Second H yin justifies the conclusion that
L. Deubner? was correct in assuming a late date. The same scholar has tried to
account for the peculiar form of these three hymns, with their strong favour of
mimetic elements, through Theocritus’ influence. Now it is correct that the
latter's poetry often has a mimetic character, as in the Pharmaceutria and the
Gorgo and Praxinoe, to mention two; it is also correct that there are various
points of mutual contact between him and Callimachus,3 but nevertheless the
independent, typically Callimachean quality of this impressive poem should not
be overlooked.
The Epigrams form the second group of surviving poems. There is sufficient
evidence* that they were collected in one book in the ancient Callimachus
editions. We even know of a commentary by Archibius (perhaps also Hedylus;
test. 44 f. Pf.). We cannot tell whether Callimachus himself compiled this book
of epigrams. At any rate a selection from it reached the Anthologia Palatina via
Meleager and Constantine Cephalas; this transmission will be discussed in the
next chapter. If we agree with Pfeiffer and others to reject Ep. 3, 36 and 63
(probably the last word has not yet been said about 635), the Anthology has
preserved for us fifty-eight indubitably genuine items, to which are added
another two from other authors (5 f.). When Maximus Planudes compiled his
Anthology in 1299, he copied twenty-two genuine epigrams by Callimachus
from the Palatinus. Unlike the Palatina this Planudea never lapsed into oblivion.
So it happened that the epigrams preserved in the latter precede in our editions
the ones which were added from the rediscovered Palatina, the result being that
the order is very confused. Some very scanty fragments (393-402 Pf.) indicate
that we possess only one, possibly quite restricted, selection of the epigrams of
our poet.
The Alexandrian art of the miniature finds its perfect expression in Calli-
machus’ Epigrams. At this stage we shall only consider it briefly, since the
Hellenistic epigram will be discussed later. Epitaph and dedication, the original
forms, return with a variety of wit and emphasis; newer themes appear in erotic
poems, mainly about the beauty of boys, and in those about literary principles.
A large part of the lighter epigrams can be allotted to the poet’s youth, when
friendship and love helped him to bear his poverty, but already at an early stage
! kK, J. MCKAY stresses particularly the elements of humour: Erysichthon. A Callimachean
Comedy. Leiden 1962 (Suppl. to Mnem. 7). 2 N. Jahrb. 1921, 376 ff.
3 G. SCHLATTER, Theokrit und K. Diss. Ziirich 1941; in add. HERTER, Gnom. 19, 1943, 325;
cf. also A..F. GOW, Theocritus, Cambr. 1952, XXIII. In F. poRNsEIEF, Echtheitsfragen. Berl.
1939, 25, a series of ancestors, reaching back into the Orient, of mimetic poems with a
fictional situation.
4 PFEIFFER 2, XCII. 5 Cf. p. ZUCKER, Phil. 98, 1954, 94.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

he also gave them a more serious content and no doubt this poetry accompanied
him into his old age. His mastery of great conciseness and of a style which
couples supreme art with simplicity, imparts to most of these creations a cool
and smooth surface. Epigram 2 is the finest example of how real feeling can
penetrate; basically it is a brief elegy remembering his dead friend, the poet
Heraclitus of Halicarnassus.'
In the epigram Callimachus also occasionally toys with dialect and form;
five poems show Doric colouring (14. 46. 51. 55. 59) and four (37-40) were
written in lyric metre.
Callimachus’ main work, the Aetia, is lost, but some lucky finds and scholarly
work have revealed the essential features of this poem. When Rudolph Pfeiffer
published his Callimachi fragmenta nuper reperta in 1923, he was able to utilize
ten papyri one of which (Pap. Gen. 97) has since been rejected. In the prolego-
mena to the second volume of his monumental edition he presents seventy-
three papyrus texts from the first century B.c. up to the sixth/seventh century
A.D., a considerable part of which is useful for the Aetia. Before we enter into
details of content and structure of this work, we must discuss its prologue
(fr. x Pf.), the most valuable find which has been made with regard to Calli-
machus and the one with the most problems. This prologue is presented as the
poet’s revenge upon his opponents, who are introduced as telchines, malicious
goblins. They abuse him because he did not know how to celebrate the deeds of
kings and heroes in an epic of many thousands of lines with continuous action
(Sunvexés). But he loves thrifty, subtle poetry, for Demeter’s nourishing gift
weighs much more than the mighty oak tree (on whose fruit mankind had to
feed in the crude days of pre-history).? Here the same poet speaks who in
Hymn 2 preferred the slight trickle of the spring to the muddy Euphrates and
who announced in Epigram 28 his abhorrence of the cyclic poem (zotnwa
xukdKov). We also recall Epigram 21, the epitaph for the poet’s father, in
which Callimachus speaks of his poetic victory over squinting envy (BacKavin).3
On the other hand, we have no support for relating the famous condemnation of
big books (76 péya BiBXlov ioov . . . TH weydrAw Kake@ fr. 465 Pf.) to poetry in
particular. Though he may differ from him in other respects, Callimachus, in
his rejection of continuous narrative, follows Aristotle’s criticism (Poekw23.
1459 a 27) which contrasted Homer’s happy choice of part of an occurrence
with comprehensive epics like the Cypria. The difficult distich in the prologue
to the Aetia (11 f.), which also mentions the name of Mimnermus, attests his
preference of the small subtle poem over the long. The learned Florentine
scholium (Pap. Soc. It. 1219 fr. 1; no. 24 Pf.) notes on this passage that Philitas
was also mentioned and that Callimachus separated the small poems of these two
from their larger works as being more valuable. Numerous modern scholars
have made this opinion the basis for their attempts at restoration. All the same,

' Cf. HOWALD, Der Dichter K. (v. inf.), 63.

* The paraphrase makes it clear that I consider the reference of the lines to definite titles
of works superfluous.
3 PFEIFFER rightly struck out the last distich (cf. fr. 1, 37 f.).
710
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

it is surprising that Callimachus should have subjected these two highly esteemed
masters of narrative elegy to a criticism which was essentially denigratory.
Therefore it will be necessary to consider an interpretation and restoration of the
passage which contrasts Mimnermus and Philitas with the uncouth poetry of
others. In that case the Large Woman (v. 12) could refer to Antimachus’ Lyde,
which Callimachus mocked in an epigram (fr. 398 Pf.) as a fat poem.!
The Florentine scholium just mentioned also gives concrete indications about
the identity of the malicious imps. Besides unknown and only partially pre-
served names there appear Praxiphanes against whom Callimachus wrote
(v. supra) and, surprisingly, Asclepiades and Posidippus, themselves two masters
of the epigrammatic art, the first of whom was no doubt friendly with Calli-
machus at some time. But they must have disagreed on matters of criticism, for
we know that both voiced the greatest appreciation for Antimachus’ Lyde
(Anth. Pal. 9, 63. 12, 168). But there is no mention of Apollonius Rhodius, who
was especially assumed to be among the Telchines (who are, after all, mostly
Rhodian!), and there is little hope of fitting him into a hiatus in the scholium.?
On the other hand, we do not know to what extent the scholiast is only making
learned conjectures and his importance is overrated if a conflict between
Callimachus and Apollonius and any reference to the matter in the various
polemical passages and in the Ibis} is completely denied. The biography of
Apollonius will give us an opportunity to take up this question again.
In the Aetia-prologue Callimachus speaks of the burden of old age which lies
upon him like Sicily on Enceladus (cf. Eur. Heracles 638): so he wrote these lines
in the last period of his life. But this is disputed by the fact that Apollonius used
the Aetia in various places of his epic,* and that it becomes difficult or, if Berenice
is recognized in the epilogue of the Aetia (fr. 112. 2 Pf.), impossible, to date the
latter’s work so much later.
Pfeiffer solves the difficulties by conjecturing’ that the Aetia, written con-
siderably earlier, were published by Callimachus in his old age, in a new edition,
and that he prefixed the Telchines-prologue to it. According to this theory, the
originally independent Lock of Berenice was fitted into this new edition with
some alterations at the end; at the same time an epilogue was added which
formed the transition to the Iambs which followed in the edition.
The Aetia was a fairly voluminous work in four books, but Callimachus
maintained his artistic principle by combining in this collective poem a large
number of brief stories in elegiac metre; the work owes its name to the causes

t On the controversy HERTER, Bursian (v. inf.), 100, who himself inclines toward the
second opinion which is defended by M. puELMA, ‘Die Vorbilder der Elegiendichtung in
Alexandrien und Rom’, Mus. Helv. 11, 1954, 101; ‘K.—Interpretationen.’ Phil. 101, 1957, 90.
Cf. also w. WIMMEL, ‘Philitas im Aitienprolog des Kall.’ Herm. 86, 1958, 346.
2 Cf. PFEIFFER, on line 11 of the Schol. Flor.
3 Bibl. in HERTER, Bursian (v. sup.) 89. 110. 200, further ibid. Vol. 285, 1944/55, 225, and
Rhein. Mus. 91, 1942, 310.
4 Cf. PFEIFFER 2, XLI. HERTER, Bursians Jahresber. 285, 1944/55, 232.
5 Herm. 63, 1928, 339; now 2, XXXVI. HERTER, Gnom. 26, 1954, 77 f., discusses the scanty
possibilities of success without this assumption.
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(aizrva) which it gives of festivals, customs, institutions and names. The idio-
syncrasy of its creator made all attempts to reconstruct the work seem fruitless,
until new finds provided extensive help. Callimachus’ poems were industriously
commented upon; we know, for instance, of commentaries by Theon in the
Augustan age and of Epaphroditus in the Flavian era; we also possess in papyri
considerable remnants of commentaries by authors whom we do not know. A
somewhat simple aid, but of invaluable help for an understanding of the poet,
are the extensive tables of contents which we call Diegeses after the subscriptio
of the Milanese papyrus (no. 8 Pf.). We possess remnants of a rather solid
treatise which approximates to a commentary (Pap. no. 24. 26 Pf.) on parts of
the first book of the Aetia, and also of a rather flimsy one, probably excerpted
from the papyrus just mentioned (no. 8 Pf.), on the two last books of this work,
on the Iambs, lyrical poems, the Hecale and the first two Hymns.
At present the subject-matter and sequence of large parts of the Aetia are
known to us; the variety aimed at in the length and presentation of the various
passages is clearly recognizable. After the Telchines-prologue the roundelay of
the Aetia is opened with the story of how the poet dreamed that he was as a
young man (aprvyévevos) on Mount Helicon where the Muses met him; it
may be conjectured that Arsinoe accompanied them as the tenth. Of course,
Hesiod’s consecration as a poet is the background of the story of this dream and
the fragments reveal that Callimachus mentioned this and so indicated his
original. The Muses conversed with him more informally than with Hesiod, for
we observe that a brisk exchange of question and answer took place, during
which the inquisitive poet received information about all sorts of unusual
matters of culture and legend. The very first question is typical: Why do the
Parians sacrifice to the Graces without flute music and wreaths? The Aetia
contained an abundance of such problems: Why is the sacrifice to Apollo in
Anaphe accompanied by obscenities, and that to Heracles in Lindos with
invective? Why is there a month called the Sheep’s month ("Apvecos) in Argos?
Why does the statue of Artemis in Leucadia carry a mortar on its head?! Why do
not the inhabitants of Zancle invoke their foundation-heroes by their names
at the festival? and much else of this nature. They are not great subjects, and
there is nowhere in the remnants a question which penetrates to greater depths
than can be reached by learned curiosity. But all the time we observe the hand
of a consummate artist who never tires because he always knows how to bring
variety, and who reveals with subtle irony how little seriously all this should
be taken.
The finds have shown that in the last two books the dialogue of the Muses
was discontinued and that the individual Aetia followed each other without
transition, in so far as we may infer from the intelligible examples. Stories
continued to be told, and while they occasionally are subservient to the purpose
of the aetiology, it could also recede into the background and permit the story
to do full justice to itself. The finest example of this is the story of Acontius and
Cydippe in the third book. The boy from Tulis fell in love at first sight at the
' Probably a mistaken «dAaGos.
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 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
Apollo festival in Delos - poetry of this kind only knows of love at first sight —
with the girl from Naxos. Eros suggests to him the stratagem of rolling an apple
with an inscription on it in front of his beauty’s feet; unsuspectingly she reads
out from the fruit the oath on Artemis that she will marry Acontius. It should
be borne in mind that in antiquity reading was done aloud. An oath must be
kept, and in spite of her virginity the goddess sees to it that this is done. We
knew the outlines of the story from Aristaenetus, who (1. 10) repeats the story
fairly faithfully; in sections 20 and 21 of his Heroides Ovid artfully toys with the
theme.’ Larger fragments in papyri have given us samples of Callimachus’
narrative style. Again the surpassing objectivity with which he tells the story is
striking; but small fragments show that the expressive monologue of the
enamoured boy, as given by Aristaenetus, occurred in a similar form in the
Aetia. The poet can hardly have taken such despair too seriously. The feigned
solemnity with which he refers to the Cean chronicler Xenomedes as the source
of his history fits this picture completely.
The largest of the fragments (75 Pf.) contains a detail in which we recognize
an oft-repeated trick of Callimachus’ technique, the characterization of a
situation by one single stroke paraphrased in choice language. Callimachus does
not say: ‘In the morning the festive sacrifices are to be brought in’, while ‘The
animals are ready to be slaughtered’ would be too flat. ‘The oxen fearfully
watch in the reflecting water the knife plunged into their backs.’ With this
stroke the complete picture is presented.
It has also been established from papyrus evidence that the story of the worthy
Pieria, who manages to turn a love affair into the reconciliation of two quarrel-
ling cities, belonged to the third book of the Aetia and the old conjecture of
R. Reitzenstein that Aristaenetus also paraphrased Callimachus in 1. 15 has been
splendidly confirmed.* We have also become acquainted with other themes, such
as the explanation of the Athenian Thesmophoriae, Simonides’ tomb, the
Cabiri, the Hyperboreans and the statue of Delian Apollo. In a vivid dialogue
an explanation is found of the god’s attributes, which the god supplies himself;
he holds the bow in his left hand to punish the presumptuous, but he has the
three graces on his right hand, because he is swifter with gifts for the good than
with punishment for the evil.
The Lock of Berenice, which was probably inserted in the fourth book of the
Aetia, requires some brief remarks. Berenice, the consort of Ptolemy III Euer-
getes and Callimachus’ compatriot, had pledged to dedicate her locks for the
happy return of her husband from the Syrian expedition. But the precious hair
disappeared from the temple and Conon, the court-astronomer, discovered
them in the sky as a constellation. The tresses themselves relate that they were
first carried off by Zephyrus into the shrine of Arsinoe-Aphrodite. Here homage
for the dead queen was combined with one for the living. This poem by the old
1 Cf. A. LESKY, Aristaenetus. Ztirich 1951, 144. 2 Index lect. Rostock 1892/3, 15.
3 Fr. 114 PFEIFFER; cf. his splendid essay: ‘The Image of the Delian Apollo and Apolline
Ethics’. Journ. of the Warburg and the Courtauld Institutes 15, 1952, 20. There, p. 27, the indica-
tion that here the miniature dialogue of epigram has been transferred to an aetion.
713
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Callimachus, which we can date in 246-245, is court poetry, but even in this
the poet does not relinquish his exquisite superiority, showing us that homage
of this nature can still be tasteful. Catullus translated it into Latin (66), and the
twenty-one stanzas of the original which we can now read coherently (Pap. no.
1 Pf.) show us what pains he took to be accurate.’
In the last line of the Aetia the poet announces that he is going to enter the
domain of the pedestrian Muse,? i.e. the realm of prose. Now Horace speaks
of his satirical poetry as Musa pedestris (Serm. 2. 6, 17; cf. 2. 1, 251), and it was
thought that in the epilogue of the new edition Callimachus used these words
as a transition to the Iambs which followed the Aetia. It seems preferable to
assume simply that the aged Callimachus was thinking of turning back to
scholarly work.
In any case the Jambs come next in the edition which can be recognized from
the remnants. In this book with its thirteen poems the principle of variety has
been adhered to throughout. The first four and the thirteenth have been written
in choliambs; in between there are epodic forms as well as pure and brachy-
catalectic iambic trimeters beside trochaic verse. The dialect pretends to be
Tonic, while Doric occurs as well. We can form some impression of the diversity
of the contents from the new fragments and the Diegeses. Iamb 1 provides a
good beginning; it brings up Hipponax, the initiator of the choliamb, from the
underworld who with an edifying tale exhorts the race of scholars to be modest.
The Arcadian Bathycles has donated a gold cup for the cleverest man, but none
of the seven sages deems himself worthy and finally the cup is dedicated to
Apollo.
The largest fragment which we possess is of Iamb 4. It presents the old agon
theme in a struggle between the laurel and the olive tree. The point is in the
blunt snubbing of a third who wants to join in; the Diegesis gives evidence that
some literary dispute was behind this. The other iambs contain fables, aetio-
logical themes, polemics and occasional poetry, such as congratulations to a
friend to whom a daughter had been born.
There is no dependable evidence for the date of the Iambs. Special account
should be taken of the possibility that in this book individual poems have been
collected which Callimachus wrote during different periods of his life. Its
diversity made the book into a true satura lanx as the Romans called the sacrificial
dish filled with various gifts.
Understandably a direct line has been traced from Callimachus’ Iambs to early
Latin satire.3 Such an observation is quite compatible with a recognition of the
I In one papyrus (no 37 Pf.) Catullus’ lines 79-88 seem to be lacking, while at the end
there is a distich which is absent in the Latin. PFEIFFER 2, XX XVII, explains this intelligibly
by alterations effected in the transfer to the Aetia.
* melov (enallage) to be read rather than zefos. On the controversy of interpretation
HERTER, Bursian (v. sup.), 144 and PFEIFFER on this passage. M. PUELMA, ‘Kall.-Interpreta-
tionen 2: Der Epilog zu den Aitien.’ Phil. 101, 1957, 247. The future éreyu indicating an action
in the future is important.
3M. PUELMA PIWONKA, Lucilius und K. Frankf. a. M. 1949. L. DEUBNER, ‘Die Saturae des
Ennius und die Jamben des K.’. Rhein. Mus. 96, 1953, 289.

714
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

original achievements of Latin poetry and only means a restriction, not a denial,
of Quintilian’s: satura quidem tota nostra est (10. 1, 93).
In the edition which was the basis for the Diegeses there followed lyrical
poems in selected metres which reveal the poet’s delight in metrical experiment.
They are Exhortation to a Beautiful Boy, in phalaecean metre; a Pannychis, a poem
for a festival at which the Dioscuri and Helen were invoked, in Euripidean
fourteen-syllable verse (iambic dimeter and ithyphallic verse); the Apotheosis of
Arsinoe in the rare archebulean which we know better than the others through
a fairly large fragment. An uncommon theme shows that here, too, Callimachus
did not choose the broad paved road; Philotera, the sister of the royal couple
who died young and was carried off to the service of Demeter, comes from
Sicily to visit Charis, Hephaestus’ wife, and requests her to spy out from Mount
Athos what the meaning is of the smoke which is wafted over the sea in the
south. Then she learns of Arsinoe’s death. The event fixes the earliest date of the
poem in 270. The fourth song in choriambic pentameters, the Branchus, was
addressed to Apollo’s favourite, the ancestor of the Branchidae of Didyma.
The miniature epic Hecale was of great importance for the principles under-
lying Alexandrian poetry and its sequence. Owing to the peculiar character of
Callimachean poetry it is not possible to reconstruct this poem with some pre-
cision either, but the remnants, among which the tablet in the Viennese papyrus
collection occupies a special position, reveal a picture of the nature of the whole
and of numerous details.‘ A. Hecker’s ingenious thesis,” confirmed by the
papyrus finds, that the dactylic fragments in Suidas are from the Hecaie and
from no other work has also proved useful.
Thanks to the Diegeses the plot can be given in rough outline. Theseus has
avoided Medea’s snares and is recognized by Aegeus, who keeps him carefully
protected. But the young man secretly sets out to subdue the evil bull of
Marathon. On the way he is forced by a rainstorm to take shelter with old dame
Hecale, who entertains him with the modest means of her poverty. Theseus
vanquishes the bull, but on his return he finds the old woman dead. He laments
her, names the newly founded deme Hecale in her honour and establishes a
shrine of Zeus Hecalius. Thus the story ends in an aetion.
This brief outline should not give the mistaken impression that the narrative
flowed smoothly. By calling the Hecale an epyllion’ we do not only indicate its
small size, but also a specific method of narrative different from the larger epic.
Certain episodes, mostly not the central ones, are taken from the context of old
1 On individual papyrus fragments: A. BARIGAZZI, ‘Il dolore materno di Ecale (P. Ox.
2376 e 2377)’. Herm. 86, 1958, 453. F. KRAFFT, ‘Die neuen Funde zur Hekale des Kall.’.
Herm. 86, 1958, 471. —- Ox. Pap. no 2376 f. have also made it possible, apart from facilitating
the reading of fragments already known, to attribute fr. 629 (in PrErFFER still incertae sedis)
to the Hecale; also Cc. GALLAVOTTI, Gnom. 29, 1957, 423. Fragment Ox. Pap. 24, 1957, no.
2398, is also important; together with Ox. Pap. 25, 1959, no. 2437 and no. 2217 it contri-
butes considerably to a passage of the crow’s speech between cols. IIf and IV of the Viennese
tablet (fr. 260 Pf.). Also BR. GENTILI, Gnom. 33, 1961, 342.
2 Commentationes Callim. Groningen 1842. Bibl. on the attempts at reconstruction PFEIFFER
on fr. 230 and HOWALD-STAIGER (v. inf.), 385.
3 This description of short poems in antiquity only Athen. 2, 65 a.
715
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

legends and are lovingly reshaped, while the remaining themes are left at the
fringe. Thus in this case it is not the story of the battle with the Marathonian bull
which stands in the centre, but his stay with the old woman, whom Callimachus
had discovered in the atthidographical tradition. To what extent we have to
reckon with surprises in this form of art, especially in Callimachus, is shown by
the Viennese tablet with a dialogue of birds,! in which one of the characters, the
crow, relates all kinds of old stories. The old theme of the evil reward meted out
to the bringer of bad news is also brought up. It can still be observed that this
passage followed on to the conquest over the bull, but how it fitted into the
context of the poem remains obscure.
The Hecale had an extraordinary influence; poems of the Roman neoterici,
such as the Io of Licinius Calvus or the Smyrna of Helvius Cinna are modelled
upon it; Catullus’ poem on the Marriage of Peleus and Thetis and the Ciris from
the Appendix Vergiliana also bear testimony to this influence. The Hecale
subject was given a completely new form in the spirit of true poetry and rich
humanity in Inez Wiesinger-Maggi’s Theseus der Jiingling (1953).
In the fourth of the Iambs (fr. 194. 77 Pf.) the ‘ girl-diver’ Olive, whom Theseus
enjoys, is clearly from the Hecale; this could provide a relative chronology, but
it is not very helpful since the Jambs cannot be dated. What makes the chronology
of the epyllion more difficult is the fact that we are still far from a trustworthy
picture of the development of Callimachus’ art. Therefore the assumption that
the Hecale is chronologically close to the Aetia must be tentative.
The Hecale offers an opportunity to make some few remarks about the subtle
structure of the hexameter in Callimachus.? Certain arrangements of the verse,
already developed in Homer, are increasingly preferred, deviations more
strictly avoided. Caesura is subjected to narrower limits so that the structural
forms stand out more clearly. There is an organic connection between this
development and the greater conciseness of language, the large-scale rejection
of conventionally epithetical ornament and of fixed formulae, and bright
diversion by means of occasional brief cola.
Of other poems in epic or elegiac metre of which traces survive only the
Victory Ode to Sosibius? has become partially known; it celebrated victories in
chariot races at the Isthmian and Nemean games. The few distichs are of

' The two birds fall asleep at last. PFEIFFER, ‘Morgendammerung’. Thesaurismata. Festschr.
J. I. Kapp. Munich 1954, 95, elegantly rectified the conjectures of WILAMOWITZ, Hellenist.
Dicht. 1. 189, of a third bird who wakes them early. A conjecture of the insertion of the
bird-scene in A. BARIGAZZI, ‘Sull’ Ecale di Callimaco’. Herm. 82, 1954, 308. Otherwise
B. GENTILI, Gnom. 33, 1961, 342. V. BARTOLETTI, ‘L’episodio degli uccelli parlanti nell’
Ecale di Call.’. Stud. It. 33, 1961, 154, thinks that the birds’ dialogue happens in Athens after
the message of the conquest over the bull and of Theseus’ impending arrival has been
received.
? Of fundamental importance H. FRANKEL, ‘Der kallim. und der hom. Hexameter’. GGN
1926, 197; revised in Wege und Formen friihgr. Denkens. Munich1955, 100. A. WIFSTRAND,
Von K. zu Nonnos. Lund 1933.
3 On the desperate problem of the person celebrated HERTER, Bursian (v. inf.), 154 and
PFEIFFER On fr. 384. Influence of Pindar in poems on Nemean victories of the period 200-
150 B.C.: W. PEEK, ‘Zwei agonistische Gedichte aus Rhodos’. Herm. 77, 1942, 206.
716
 LREVHELLRNISTIG AGE

importance, since in these we see the choral-lyrical epinicion translated into the
style of the elegy. Fr. 383 Pf. shows that this ode was not the only one of its
kind. We know desperately little of the lampooning poem Ibis. Ovid, who
relieves his personal rancour under the same title, is of little help. At any rate
Callimachus wrote a moderately sized poem (probably elegiac), in which,
introducing various remotely connected stories, he hurled imprecations at an
enemy whom he compares with the unclean ibis. According to ancient notices!
this opponent was Apollonius; we shall have to accept this as a possibility,
although there can never be any certainty that such observations are not
conjectural.
To conclude from the title of the Graphewm and from one distich that it
dealt with the history of literature is pure guess-work. A hexameter poem
Galatea may have dealt with the Nereid. With regard to an Elegy to Magas and
Berenice Pfeifter (cf. on fr. 388) has shown that it is possible that Hyginus Astr. 2.
24 has a bearing upon it; an Ode to Arsinoe’s Wedding remains entirely obscure.
Suidas has another series of titles which mean nothing to us; some of them
might refer to parts of the Aetia. He also knows of tragedies, but any possibility
of checking ends here.
Callimachus’ art reflected the intellectual ferment of the young metropolis;
by combining ancient tradition with entirely new aspirations it produced
patterns of a greatly varying texture. It is an art which bears the imprint of its
scholarly origin and of true poetry; its peculiar nature has been brought out in
the foregoing evaluation of separate works, so that a summary would be
superfluous.

In each case the most necessary details with regard to the tradition of individual
works have been given; we add here merely the hardly credible fact that much
of Callimachus was not lost until the Middle Ages, after having survived the
perils of the dark ages. There is no proof that this preservation was in an edition
published by Salustius the expositor of Sophocles (v. p. 299) and Callimachus.
PFEIFFER, Prol. 2. 29, has correctly stressed this in opposition to Wilamowitz.
But it is a fact that Michael Choniates, the pupil of Eustathius, still counted the
Aetia and the Hecale among his favourite reading. The fatal year 1204 also
destroyed these together with other tradition.
The basis for all work on Callimachus was laid by k. PFEIFFER’s monumental
edition: 1. (Fragments) Oxf. 1949; 2. (Hymni et Epigrammata) 1953. This work
has been made into an unparalleled tool by the extensive prolegomena in the
second volume on the textual evidence and its history, the precise apparatus
criticus, the useful addition of the scholia, the substantial commentaries on the
fragments and the complete verbal index; but this was brought about above all
by the exemplary scholarly disposition which produced it. Bilingual: in the
Coll. des Un. de Fr.: . CAHEN, 4th ed. 1953. Hymns, Epigrams and the fragments
™ Suidas s. Callimachus; Epigr. adesp. text. 23 Pf.; Schol. Patav. on Ovid, Ibis v. 447.
2A 717
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

of importance with good introductions: E. HOWALD-E. STAIGER, Kallimachos.

Ziirich 1955 (Bibl. d. Alten Welt). In the Loeb Class. Libr. c. A. TRYPANIS 1958
(Fragments); A. W. MAIN 1955 (Hymns and Epigrams). Comm. editions of the
Iambs c. GALLAVoTTI, Naples 1946. CH. M. DAWSON, Yale Class. Stud. 11,
1950. U. V. WILAMOWITZ, Call. hymni et epigrammata. 6th ed. Berlin 1962, is an
unaltered reprint of the 4th ed. of 1925. Cf. Puelma’s book p. 714, n. 3. Comm.
on the Hymns: &. CAHEN, Les Hymnes de C. Paris 1930. — An invaluable aid for
work on Callimachus in the years 1921-35 is the report of H. HERTER, Bursians
Jahresber. 255, 1937. By the same the RE-article S 5, 1931, 386. For 1938-48
rp. ZUCKER, Der Hellenismus in der deutschen Forschung, Wiesbaden 1956, 3. Still
indispensable x. prerrrEeR’s Kallimachosstudien. Munich 1922 and vu. v. WILAMO-
WITZ-MOELLENDOREF, Hellenistische Dichtung in der Zeit des K. 2 vols. Berlin
1924, reprinted 1961. A rapid, excellent introduction to the whole field: a.
KORTE, Die hellenistische Dichtung, 2nd completely revised ed. by Pp. HANDEL,
Stuttg. 1960 (Kréners Taschenausg. 47). Monographs: k. CAHEN, Callimaque et
son ceuvre politique. Paris 1929. E. HOWALD, Der Dichter K. von Kyrene. Erlenbach-
Ziirich 1943. A study ‘On Art and Play in C.’ in BR. SNELL, The Discovery of the
Mind. Oxf. 1953, 264. W. WIMMEL’s book Kallimachos in Rom. Die Nachfolge
seines apologetischen Dichtens in der Augusteerzeit. Herm. E. 16. 1961 contains a
section on the apologetic form in Callimachus. Also K. J. McKAy, The Poet at
Play. Kallimachos. The Bath of Pallas, Brill. Leiden 1962 contains an analysis of
Hymns 5 and 6.

3 THEOCRITUS
If directness of influence is taken as a criterion — in so far as it is permissible
to speak of influence with regard to Alexandrian poetry — Theocritus takes
precedence over Callimachus. However slight the volume of his work may have
been, yet it was able to establish a genre in antiquity and exert a wide influence in
the modern era, even if it took on the dubious form of pastoral poetry.
We are poorly off for data on the life of this poet, and once more it becomes
clear that our sources' largely work with conjectures from internal evidence.
We can only state that Theocritus’ life roughly coincided with the golden age
of Alexandrian poetry, i.e. the years 300-260. He may have been born a little
earlier, and there are no indications of poetic activity after the period mentioned;
if he did live longer he must have been silent in his old age. In its summary of
Id. 4 the scholium places Theocritus’ floruit in the 124th Olympiad (284/284 —
281-280). If this were credible, the poet’s birth would have to be fixed much
earlier. But this is obviously a clumsy simplification of the chronology, since
the Olympiad mentioned is the first to be held during Philadelphus’ reign
and Theocritus no doubt reached the climax of his creativity under this
ruler.
Three places in the Mediterranean world played an important role in the
poet’s life. He was born in Sicily as the son of Praxagoras and Philina. If we may
" Suidas, a biography in the scholia and notes in these. Everything in Gow, 1, XV.
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 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

trust the epigram! meant for a portrait or an edition of the works of Theocritus,
he was of humble origin, ‘one of the many Syracusans’. Because the poet
introduces himself in Id. 7 under the disguise of Simichidas, he was provided
with a father called Simichus or Simichidas, a fine example of the origin of
ancient biographical tradition. Theocritus’ poetry is connected with his home-
land through the Sicilian colouring of many of the bucolic Idylls, but especially
by the sixteenth, in which he is searching for a patron for his muse and addresses
Hiero of Syracuse, who after Pyrrhus’ departure from Sicily was elected to be
the leader of the expedition planned against Carthage. The situation which can
be inferred from the poem makes 275-274 a very likely date. Theocritus
possibly was in Sicily at this time, although we cannot be sure of this.?
Alexandria played an important part in his career; in his Adoniazusae he gives
a splendid portrayal of its metropolitan bustle and its petty bourgeoisie. The
proud claim of Theocritus-Simichidas in Id. 7 (93) that the fame of his poems
has penetrated to Zeus can only mean that they drew the attention of Philadelphus.
Id. 18 is also addressed to him, the Encomium to Ptolemy, a eulogy in epic metre,
i.e. the kind of encomium which took the place of the old lyric form from the
time of Lysander onward. Earlier (p. 637) mention was made of the poetic
contest of the Lysandrea in which Antimachus was defeated by Niceratus.
Theocritus’ encomium presupposes that Arsinoe is still alive and describes the
power of Ptolemy II in a manner which was hardly possible before 274. Perhaps
we can arrive at a more precise date, since Ulrich Wilcken3 is probably right in
arguing that the poem was composed for the Ptolemea of the year 270,4 the
festival with the gigantic procession (cf. p. 697). It is worth while comparing
Theocritus’ praise of princes with that which Callimachus blended with his
hymns to Zeus and Delos. The Sicilian is flatter, more conventional, less free;
the superior intellect with which the other also masters the courtly gesture is not
his; on the other hand, his emotional effect is stronger in his best poems.
At the time of the Encomium to Ptolemy Theocritus must have been in Alex-
andria. It is obvious to assume that he approached the Ptolemies when Hiero II
did not fulfil his expectations. The Adoniazusae may also possibly be placed in
this period. At any rate he met Callimachus in Alexandria’ and wholeheartedly
endorsed the latter’s poetic principles. This is given forceful expression in Id. 7,
the Thalysia; it rejects (45) builders who wish to build houses tall like mountains
and jeers at the Muses’ birds whose cackle wants to vie with the singer from
Chios. He shows his reverence for Homer, but rejects imitations of him as
an impossible undertaking. The compliment for Asclepiades of Samos® and
t Anth. Pal. 9, 434; (27) in Gow. “AMos 6 Xios probably does not refer to Homer, but to
the sophist Theocritus of Chios who attacked Aristotle and Theopompus int. al. and under
Antigonus Monophthalmus expiated his sarcasm with his death.
2 Cf. cow 1, XXV, 2.2, 324. The interpretation of 107 does not offer a firm basis.
3 Sitzb. Ak. Berl. 1938, 311, 5; otherwise wiLAMOwItTZz, Hellenist. Dichtung 2, Berl.
1924, reprinted 1961; 130.
4+ On the chronology v. p. 697, n. I. 5 On their mutual influence, cf. p. 709.
6 His connection with Callimachus does not indeed appear to have remained untroubled.
cha pains
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Philitas (40) is in the same tenor. Predictably these two appear in ancient
tradition as Theocritus’ teachers.
With no place does Theocritus show such close connections as with the island
of Cos. There he made a circle of friends, of which we hear some detail in the
Thalysia.! The physician Nicias of Miletus, remembered in Ide ti, 13, ane 28
and Epigram 8, who himself wrote epigrams, may have become friendly with
Theocritus in Cos, for the hypothesis to Id. 11 mentions him as a fellow-student
of Erasistratus’, probably during his stay in the island. Interpretation of the
poem has revealed many relations with Cos and its circle;? the special emphasis
on Cos as the island of birth of the ruler in the Encomium to Ptolemy may also
be connected with the poet’s personal liking for the island.
Syracuse, Alexandria and Cos: the three names indicate the essential back-
ground to Theocritus’ life. There are many hypotheses on the distribution of
the various epochs of his life and of the separate poems over these three places.
We do not propose to increase these, since we consider it wrong to obliterate
the limits imposed on our knowledge by conjecture at any price. But we do not
wish to neglect the second hypothesis of the Thalysia, according to which Theo-
critus stopped at Cos on his way to Alexandria. If we may trust this report we
have to assume a sojourn in the island between the Sicilian years and the period
in Alexandria without being able to indicate the time limits for it. At any rate
we think that after Alexandria Theocritus went back to Cos.
In Id. 16 (105) Theocritus mentions Orchomenos as the cult centre of the
Graces. Misunderstanding of the passage led to attempts at establishing a con-
nection between the Boeotian place and the poet or his ancestors. We may
consider these endeavours as finished now.
We are accustomed to call Theocritus’ poems idylls,4 using an expression
which appears in Greek in the scholia on Theocritus and was first used in Latin,
as far as we know, by the younger Pliny (4. 14, 9) to denote smaller poems. The
origin of the term is obscure; the scholiasts were already racking their brains
over it, but it is certain that the expression itself has nothing to do with bucolic
poetry or with idyllic in our sense. It also appears that it can be applied to
poems of greatly varying content. It acquired the connotation in which we use
it now because it was connected with the sort of poems which were held to be
typical of Theocritus and which produced a following of a definite character.
Special titles have been handed down for individual poems, but it is doubtful
whether we may attribute any of these to the poet himself. The very cir-
eee that in a few cases two and more titles have reached us must raise
oubts.
' The names of Lycopeus’ sons Phrasidamus and Antigenes must probably not be thought
of as pseudonyms.
2 Various details in A. v. BLUMENTHAL, RE, 5 A, 1934, 2004.
3 CHRIST-SCHMID’s Lit. History, 2, 6th ed. Munich 1920, 186 f., goes particularly far; in
4 a Agel) .
its Theocritus chapter it is also in other respects very unfortunate. Nothing can be done with
y

the corrupt scholium 7, 21, cf. Gow 2, 128.

iyOn the term GOW I, LXXI. B. Bricker, ‘Genus, efSos und efSvAAvov in der Bedeutung
“Einzellied” und “Gedicht’’. Glotta 19, 1941, 29.’
720
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

The most complete representative of our manuscript tradition, the Ambro-

sianus 104 (rsth/r6th c.), contains thirty Idylls and the Epigrams. Remnants of
an Id. 31 have only been preserved in a papyrus from Antinoé (no. 1163 P.).
There is another fragment of a poem Berenice (almost certainly Philadelphus’
mother) preserved by Athenaeus (7. 284 a), and the Syrinx, one of those
technopaignia which playfully imitate objects by means of varying length of
lines. It still remains to be demonstrated that the body of tradition contains
much that is spurious.
The division into groups adopted in the following survey of the poet’s
genuine work does not necessarily imply that precise boundary lines can be
drawn to separate them. We commence with the bucolic poems with which
Theocritus established the tradition of pastoral poetry. They should by no means
be considered as the earliest for that reason. It is not even certain whether
chronologically they belong close together. Attention should be paid to the
attempt to demonstrate that in the portrayal of nature in these poems elements
proper to the eastern Mediterranean are prevalent.! This corresponds with
various references to Cos which are apparent in individual poems.
In the Thyrsis (Id. 1) a goatherd asks Thyrsis for the melancholy song of
Daphnis’ death. There were many versions of this traditional Sicilian song about
the passing away of the beautiful youth who is the mythical archetype of bucolic
poetry. It occurs as early as Stesichorus. Among the presents with which the
goatherd loosens Thyrsis’ tongue is a carved wooden cup, decorated with
exquisite figures.” Its description, especially the one of the coquettish beauty and
her two lovers, is a fine example of the typical Greek ecphrasis which fills the
figures described with life and movement. Sicilian themes also occur in the
Bucoliastae (Id. 6),* in which two shepherds sing of Polyphemus and Galatea.
In a witty reversal of the story as told by Philoxenus (v. p. 415) Polyphemus is
here the coy one. In the Cyclops he is the wooer, but learns to appreciate that
song, of which we are given a sample, is a cure against the pangs of love. In the
Comus (Id. 3) the singer entrusts his goats to Tityrus while he serenades Amaryllis.
A jewel of a special nature is the Thalysia (Id. 7), the poet’s walk to the harvest-
home at the farm of distinguished Coan friends and the gay rustic festival, all
permeated with the warm light of a summer’s day in the southern scenery. We
already referred to the fact that the Simichidas who tells the tale is the poet
himself. This poses the question whether any other figures of the poem, perhaps
also from other bucolic idylls, are masks. This has sometimes been pushed too
far and there has been talk of aCoan poet’s club with a religious background.
At present there is more caution; the possibility of various masks is not denied,
but there is some reserve about mentioning names. The nearest conjecture we

1 A, LINDSELL, ‘Was Th. a botanist?’ Greece and Rome 6, 1937, 78.

2 A deep cup with three scenes applied on the outside: A. M. DALE, KusovBiov. Class.
Rev. 66, 1952, 129, against GOW’s interpretation. On the poem w. C. HELMBOLDT, *Theo-
critus 1’. Class. Weekly 41, 1955, 59.
3 Cf. A. LesKy, ‘Bildwerk und Deutung bei Philostrat und Homer’. Herm. 75, 1940, 38.
+ R. MERKELBACH, ‘Bovxodaorai (Der Wettgesang der Hirten)’. Rhein. Mus. 99, 1956, 97.
q21
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

can make is that the goatherd Lycidas whom Simichidas meets on the way and
with whom he successfully vies in love songs was a contemporary poet.
Wilamowitz thought of Dosiadas of Crete, others had different fancies.! On no
account can the Aratus of Simichidas’ song, to whom Id. 6 is also devoted, be
the poet of the Phaenomena.
While Virgil depicts an idealized shepherds’ life in an Arcadian landscape,’
Theocritus draws the shepherds of his homeland with greater realism. This is
especially demonstrated in Idylls 4, 5 and ro; in the latter (Theristae) reapers
appear at harvest. From these three poems with their lively dialogue form, it
becomes clear that one of Theocritus’ literary ancestors was the mime, with
which he became acquainted in his Sicilian homeland through the miniature
dramas of Sophron, but also through the purely traditional forms. Theocritus
dressed it up in the more distinguished garb of the hexameter.
This legacy proved to be influential, especially in three poems which we can
simply describe as mimes and of which the first two show this element in the
art of Theocritus at the height of perfection. In the Pharmaceutria (Id. 2) a girl
is trying to draw her unfaithful lover back to her with a magic wheel and all
kinds of other spells. The model was given in Sophron’s witches (v. p. 240).
Here, in particular, the delight of the Hellenistic age in the lower forms of
popular customs is noticeable; it is not a coincidence that much can be corro-
borated from papyri on magical subjects. In the second part of this nocturnal
poem Simactha tells the tale of her passion. Theocritus’ mastery is demonstrated
by the fact that only by paying very close attention do we notice how much
skill has been applied to the thrilling presentation of an everyday occurrence.
An effect like that of comedy is achieved with the Adoniazusae (Id. 15), the
chattering middle-class women in Alexandria who are going out to gasp at the
splendid performance of the Adonis-celebration of Arsinoe at the palace and to
listen to the singing of a girl. The narrow horizon of these women — Theocritus
depicts them with the realism of a Herodas — is timeless. The vivid dialogue of
Idyll 14 (Aeschinas and Thyonichus) is set among the heataerae with themes typical
™ Survey by QU. CATAUDELLA, ‘Lycidas’. Studi in onore di U. E. Paoli. Florence 1955, 159,
who indeed sees Lycidas merely as a poetry-writing shepherd. J. H. KUHN, ‘Die Thalysien
Theokrits’. Herm. 86, 1958, 40 presents on page 66 a devastating collection of all interpreta-
tions of Lycidas; he himself rejects amy identification but regards Lycidas as an aspect of the
poet himself. Recent contributions: Fr. LASSERRE, ‘Aux origines de l’anthologie: 2. Les
Thalysies de Th.’. Rhein. Mus. 102, 1959, 307. M. PUELMA, ‘Die Dichterbegegnung in Th.s
“Talysien’’’. Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 144, who rejects an historical identification, but discerns
in this encounter the reflection of Theocritus’ introduction to the poets’ circle of Cos. On the
technique of the portrayal of the bucolic agonal element in the poem: B. A. VAN GRONINGEN,
‘Quelques Problémes de la poésie bucolique grecque: le sujet des Thalysies’. Mnem. S. 4, 12,
1959, 24.
* Idealization already in Theocritus’ Hellenistic imitators: kK. LATTE, ‘ Vergil’. Antik eund
Abendland 4, 1954, 157. Why Virgil made Arcadia into the bucolic landscape is a difficult
question: BR. SNELL, ‘Arcadia. The discovery of a spiritual landscape’ in The Discovery of
the Mind. Oxf. 1953, 281 ff. G. JACHMANN, ‘L’ Arcadia come paesaggio bucolico’. Maia
INES Ose 100:
3 Edited by K. PREISENDANZ, Papyri Graecae magicae 1, Leipz. 1922; 2, 1931. E. HEITSCH,
‘Zu den Zauberhymnen’. Phil. 103, 1959, 215.
722
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

of the milieu. The desperate lover relates how he found someone else in the
favour of his Cynisca and like his fellow-sufferers in comedy wishes to go
soldiering. This provides an opportunity for his partner in the dialogue to
advise him to take service under Ptolemy and to sing the ruler’s praise.
The two poems 16 and 17, which are addressed to reigning monarchs, were
mentioned earlier because they provide important chronological evidence.
Theocritus also included subject matter from the great heroic legends in his
wide range of themes, and he proved that he was able to carry on the narrative
manner of the Homeric hymns in the style of the new epyllion. In the Hylas
(Id. 13) he uses the form of an erotic paraenesis to clothe the story of how
Heracles loses his lover to the enamoured nymphs of the spring. In the Dioscuri
(Id. 22), on the other hand, the longest of the poems, the hymn-form has been
maintained. The contents of this poem, which is composed like a diptych, is the
boxing victory of Polydeuces over Amycus, the uncouth king of the Bebrycians,
and Castor’s battle with Lynceus when carrying off the Leucippides. Hylas and
Amycus represent episodes which were also incorporated in the Argonautica by
Apollonius. Here we are again faced with one of those vexing questions of
priority for which we have only arguments of style at our disposal. In this case,
too, they are not sufficient for a definitive judgment.! At any rate the confidence
with which Theocritus was represented as the poet who corrected the Rhodian
is unjustified in this instance. The most charming poem in this group is the
Heracliscus (Id. 24).? The remnants of the final passage in the Antinoé papyrus
(no. 1163 P.) show that one essential feature of the hymn, the request for a
blessing at the end, was used. The story of the little Heracles, who thinks it is a
capital joke to strangle the evil snakes sent by Hera, is told in an enchanting
manner, illuminated with details from the nursery which are reminiscent of
Callimachus. Tiresias prophesies the future greatness of the boy. The added
biographical details make an impression of being appended; the end portion
is lost.
The Epithalamium for Helen (Id. 18),3 sustained by delicate sentiment, is only
loosely connected with mythology. Its tone and theme is reminiscent of Sappho’s
wedding songs, but it is Hellenistic in that the action for the wreathing and
anointing of a Helen-plane tree by the young women of Sparta has been
unobtrusively woven into the poem.
A number of poems form a separate group in that they have a common theme
the épws maiduxds. The Aites (Id. 12) celebrates the return of the beloved and
once again we are conscious of the warmth of feeling which is mostly concealed
by Callimachus. The two Paedica (Id. 29 f.), written in the Acolian dialect and
in lyric metres, are also both addressed to beautiful boys. Some scanty fragments
ea third (Id. 31) are preserved in the papyrus just mentioned. Aeolic is also

1 Ext. bibl. in H. HERTER, Bursians Jahresber. 285, 1944/55, 352. Thematic and stylistic
analysis in D. HAGOPIAN, Pollux’ Faustkampf mit Amykos. Vienna 1955.
2 H. HERTER, ‘Ein neues Tiirwunder’. Rhein. Mus. 89, 1940, 152. S. G. KAPSOMENOS,
‘Zu Th.s Herakliskos’. Phil. 94, 1941, 234.
3 Cf. R. MERKELBACH, Phil. 101, 1957, 19.
723
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

used in the Distaff (Id. 28), the charming poem accompanying the ebony
implement of Syracusan workmanship with which Theocritus paid homage to
the wife of his Milesian friend, the physician Nicias.
The Theocritus tradition has twenty-two epigrams in common with the
Anthologia Palatina; a few others from the Anthology, which could be considered
Theocritean, are still quite doubtful.1 The smallest part of the Epigrams have
bucolic themes; Epigr. 4, a description of a shrine of Priapus and a supplication
in a love affair, is more of an elegy with its nine distichs. Besides various dedica-
tory inscriptions and epitaphs there is a separate group of epigrams on famous
poets (t7-22). Their various metres are often recognizable as literary homage;
the fictional epitaph for Hipponax, for instance, is written in four delightful
choliambs. There is the least doubt about the authenticity of this group.
The fragments of the Berenice have already been mentioned. There are two
more poems to be discussed whose genuineness is subject to serious doubts
though they cannot be definitely athetized. In the Lenae or Bacchae (Id. 26)
Pentheus’ death is related in the same way as in Euripides. The hexameters are
of very uniform structure through the complete absence of enjambement; in
spite of all attempts the meaning of line 29 with the mention of the childish age
of 9 or 10 years remains wholly obscure. The poem has now come to light in
Theocritus papyri (no. 1263 f. P.), which is no slight support for its authenticity,?
but the papyri are so late that the assumption that these editions already con-
tained spurious material is still permitted.
The Syrinx imitates the form of a shepherd’s pipe in ten dactylic couplets
decreasing from hexameter to catalectic dimeter. The text, written in riddling
language, is a dedication of the pipe to Pan; the lines are apparently addressed
to the instrument. The wording provides no valid argument against the authen-
ticity, although Simichidas instead of Theocritus in 12 could be understood as
an imitator’s reminiscence of the Thalysia. Gow probably passed the capital
sentence when he rightly stated in his commentary that syrinxes with decreasing
lengths of pipe cannot be proved to have occurred before the first century B.C.
We are now waiting for the decisive word from the archaeologists.4
The Syrinx belongs to a collection of technopaegnia which probably used to
constitute an independent book, since scholia have been preserved. Nowadays
we find the poems in Book 15 of the Anthologia Palatina (21 f. 24-27) and
scattered in the bucolic tradition.5 In its riddle character and in the use of
mythological figures the Syrinx is particularly closely related to the Altar of

' GOW 2, $23,527 detailed on the question of authenticity and on the individual epigrams.
He defends the correct point of view that also for the group of 22 doubt is often possible
and that neither authenticity nor spuriousness can be definitely proved.
* WILAMOWITZ, Glaube der Hell. Berl. 1932, 72, 2, forcefully presents the precarious
situation with regard to this poem.
Hluminating paraphrase in WILAMOWITZ , Bucolici (v. inf.) Gow gives excerpts from the
scholia in his Bucolici (v. inf.).
* Note 554, 3 in Gow, shows that the last word has not yet been said.
’ The texts in the Bucolici of wILAMOWITZ and Gow (v. inf.) and fasc. 6, 142, 181. ie} IDSs
cf. also the following notes.
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
Dosiadas, whom many conjecture to be hidden behind the Lycidas of the
Thalysia. The historian, belonging to the early Hellenistic age, who wrote the
first known Cretica is presumably the Simias of Rhodes,’ to whom Suidas
attributes a collection of glosses (3 books) and four books of miscellaneous
poetry, We have beginnings of songs for the gods in lyric metres, although
they were probably already meant to be recited, some epic fragments (Apollo,
Gorgo) and a few epigrams. The technopaegnia Axe, Wing and Egg have been
preserved. As a late-comer to this Hellenistic sport for virtuosi, Besantinus
turns up in the Hadrianic era with his Altar.
Theocritus’ poetry bears the imprint of Hellenistic art, especially in the well-
considered neatness of form. The word éxzovety makes itself heard; it occurs
in Id. 7. $1 in a passage which is important because of the principle embodied.
He proves that he is a true artist in that we find so little evidence in his poems of
this painstaking work. The subtlety with which he manages to vary the hexa-
meter, the main metre of his poems, is shown by the following observation:? in
the mimic section of the Adoniazusae (1-99) the caesura after the fourth foot
with monosyllabic thesis, avoided elsewhere, occurs twelve times, in some cases
even marked by punctuation. Another striking feature in this passage is the
considerably freer use of monosyllabic words at the end of lines.
In Theocritus we observe the same delight in linguistic and metrical experi-
ment as in Callimachus. Most of his poems display a powerful Doric colouring
which came to him easily from his native dialect. It is joined with elements of
epic language into a combination without any discordance; the Dioscuri, on the
other hand, are in the epic tradition and avoid Dorisms.3 Id. 12 is written in
Ionic, 28-30 in Aeolic, 31 probably as well. Attic is missing — it is the speech of
drama. In the poems written in Aeolic Lesbian lyric metres occur which are
here used stichically for recitation. Theocritus’ delight in polymetry runs riot in
the epigrams on poets which were discussed before. But apart from the artificial
dialect and the metre used his work is characterized by an incomparably tender
lyrical quality which is at the same time the cause of its lasting influence.
Theocritus’ poems are composed with a mimetic skill which is rarely equalled in
ancient literature. In his bucolic idylls especially he does not merely portray this
world but is part of it himself: The notion of fruitful alienation‘ introduced by
the new theory of literature can be profitably applied to his poems.
The spurious works preserved under the poet’s name are a very motley collec-
tion. In no single case can we give the poet’s name; most of it has little value,
but it gives a glimpse of a literature whose bulk is lost. Idylls 8 and 9 are bucolic
singing contests between Daphnis and Menalcas. In the former elegiac distichs
t The fragments: H. FRANKEL, De Simia Rhodio. Diss. Gott. 1915. Fasc. 6, 140 D. J. U.
POWELL, Collectanea Alex. Oxf. 1925, 109; Dosiadas ibid. 175.
2 p. MAAS, Griech. Metrik (in Gercke-Norden), Leipz. 1929, 34. He correctly reminds us of
the varying role of Porson’s bridge in the tragic and the comic trimeter.
3 We must add ‘almost completely’, if we accept some Dorisms of the tradition as
original.
4 Cf. m. LUTHI, Volksmarchen und Literaturwissenschaft 1960, p. 11 of the special edition of
Die Freundesgabe 1960/II.
282 725
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

(33-60) have been interposed between the hexameters; in the latter the umpire,
a figure familiar from Virgil’s Eclogues, himself attends with a song. There is an
odd mixture of milieux in Id. 20 in which a shepherd laments his vain wooing
of a city hetacra. Three other poems have love themes. Eros (Id. 19), who has
been stealing honey, complains of a bee sting; he is given a pointed reminder
which recurs in the Anacreontea (33) of the bad sting which he can inflict himself.
The Erastes (Id. 23) uses an old novella theme: an Eros statue slays a boy who
has driven a lover to suicide with his hardheartedness. The Oaristys (Id. 27),
whose lasciviousness, masking as naiveté, 1s reminiscent of scenes in Longus’
novel, presents lovers’ talk of a shepherd and his shepherdess in stichomythia.
The lengthy poem (281 lines) of Heracles the Lionkiller (Id. 25) belongs to the
same category as the Hellenistic epyllion. It consists of three individually
unimportant episodes from the Heracles-Augeas story, the third comprising the
story of the Nemean lion, which is given as an insertion. The most interesting
item is The Fisherman (Id. 21), whose relentless realism goes far beyond Theo-
critus. Two poor wretches are leading a lonely life of the bitterest poverty on the
sea coast. A dream conjures up to one of them a happy catch ofa fish of gold,
but the other calls him back to harsh reality which threatens with starvation. In
ancient literature this portrayal of grinding poverty is only comparable with
the pseudo-Virgilian Moretum, which contrasts so sharply with the ideal
Arcadian world of the Eclogues.
We know a little about two Hellenistic poets who were among those who
followed Theocritus’ lead. Moschus of Syracuse appears in Suidas as a pupil of
Aristarchus, and since the latter is probably the great grammarian we can date
his activity in the second century B.c. His epyllion Europa with the well-known
story of Zeus as the bull has been preserved. Moschus puts in the description
of Europa’s golden basket and its figured adornment with that Hellenistic
technique whose perfection was reached in Catullus’ poem of the Wedding of
Peleus and Thetis. It is not an important poet who expresses himself in these lines
which are quite plain for a Hellenistic writer. But what is really charming is the
description of how the Zeus—bull swimming across the sea with his spoil is
accompanied by its natural and mythical inhabitants, and how they celebrate the
wedding procession with a trionfo del mare. The same may be said of the first of
the three Bucolica preserved by Stobaeus. The bright sea, and then again the
security on land when gales are raging, are evoked by the intimate susceptibility
to nature,” for which the Hellenistic age found new ways of expression. The
poetical warrant with which Aphrodite is looking for the runaway Eros ("Epws
dpamérns) is not bad either. The hexameter poem Megara, on the other hand,
has nothing to do with Moschus. It is insignificant as a poem, but is notable for
its theme. The other side of Heracles’ great heroism is shown in the sorrow

* W. THEILER, Studien zur Textgeschichte u. Textkritik. Cologne and Opladen 1959, 279,
maintains it should be athetized, in spite of attempts to rescue it by M. SANCHEZ-WILDBERGER
in her diss. Theokrit-Interpretationen. Ziirich 1955.
* Bibl. in esky, Thalatta. Vienna 1947, 316, n. 214 and H. HERTER, Bursians Jahresber. 285,
1944/55, 296.
726
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
and fear of the two women, his wife and his mother, who are closest to him.
One poem which we should not like to miss as typically Hellenistic we owe
to Bion of Smyrna. We possess the poem on his death (Emrdduos Biwvos)!
by a pupil and friend, which celebrates him in the style of bucolic poetry, and
indicates that he was the victim of murder by poison. He was younger than
Moschus and could be dated two generations later. His Adonis (Addvidos
"Ezra dios) is a complex composition of great fascination. Though written for
recitation, this hexameter poem achieves the effect of passionate song, by means
of its lively movement of syntactically simple cola, its sound-effects and the
refrain-like repetition of the lament. Theocritus already made copious use of the
refrain line for a similar purpose, especially in Idyll 2. The Adonis is particularly
noteworthy, because in the lament for the beautiful beloved of Aphrodite, with
whose death nature dies, we see oriental themes penetrate Hellenistic poetry.
Only the later Hellenistic era opened itself to this influence. The subject matter
evokes a lofty fervour which stands in strong contrast to Callimachean control
and is typical for this epoch of the Hellenistic era. Latin poetry followed this
trend in a large measure. A charming trait is added to this picture of grief by
the Erotes who are busily occupying themselves with Adonis’ corpse. In
Hellenistic art Erotes in the plural appear without conceptual difference beside
the one boy Eros, who, in some of Bion’s shorter poems which we also find in
Stobaeus, plays a part which has been strikingly compared with the dallyings in
Pompeian murals. There are also bucolic poems among the fragments, but none
bears comparison with the Adonis. The fragment which goes by the unapt name
of Epithalamium to Achilles and Deidamea is not Bion’s. It is a poem on an epic
subject in a bucolic framework in which shepherds tell each other the story of
Achilles’ love adventures in Scyros.

A specimen of the history of tradition as founded by him is the Tesxtgeschichte

der griech. Bukoliker, Berl. 1906, by U. Vv. WILAMOWITZ-MOELLENDORFF. He
postulates an edition of the collected poems by Theocritus and attributes the
first collection of bucolic poems to the grammarian Artemidorus, who lived in
the first half of the first c. B.c. While this collection combined various Bucolica,
Artemidorus’ son Theon published Theocritus’ poems with a commentary. At
about the same time the poet was expounded by Asclepiades of Myrlea. From the
second century A.D. onward we see literary men take a particularly lively interest
in the poet and for the later centuries we even know the names of expounders
like Munatius, Theaetetus (both also feature in the scholia) and Amarantus.
With the Byzantine renaissance there came a final stage in the interest in
Theocritus. The imposing erudition of Wilamowitz’ book must not cover the
hypothetical character of individual conclusions, cf. Gow 1, LX. The papyri
(no. 1163-1170 P.; Gow in the pref.) among which pre-Christian ones are
lacking, have much to offer for the text through many new variant readings,
1 Transl. in WILAMOWITZ, Reden und Vortrdge. 1. Berl. 1925, 292.
727
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

but hardly anything essential for its tradition. Gallavotti’s edition, upon which
Gow builds, is important for the knowledge of the manuscripts. The extensive
manuscript evidence which begins in the end of the thirteenth century can be
divided into an Ambrosianus and a Laurentianus group between which there
is one Vaticanus. Since all codices containing Id. 14 and 25 show a lacuna
between these it may be assumed that they go back to one single manuscript
accessible to the Byzantines.
K. LATTE, ‘Zur Textkritik Theokrits’. GGN Phil.-hist. Kl. 1949, 225, with
methodologically important notes on the difficulty of arriving at Theocritus’
dialect form. On a collation of the lost codex Patavinus which may be recon-
structed from the printed editions of Zacharias Kallierges and the Juntine, by
F. NUNEZ, cf. A. TOVAR, Anales de Filologia Cldsica 4, 1949, 15; cf. W. BUHLER in
his edition of Europa (v. infra), 13. For the epigrams we have the bucolic
tradition and that of the Anthologia Palatina; rR. J. sMUTNY, The Text History
of the Epigrams of Th. Univ. of Calif. 1955.
Among the new editions the one by c. cattavortl, Theocritus quique ferentur
Bucolici Graeci. Rome 1946 (new impression with addenda 1955) deserves
emphasis, since it puts the recensio to a large extent on a new basis. It was due to
chronological circumstances that k. LATTE, Th. Carmina, Iserlohn 1948 could not
yet utilize its material. This was done by a. s. F. Gow in his Theocritus. Oxf. 1950,
2nd ed. 1952, in two volumes with an extensive introduction and a thorough
commentary which is particularly informative in technical questions. It also
offers an abundant bibl. — Of older collective editions of the bucolic poets we
mention:
WILAMOWITZ, 2nd ed. Oxf. 1910 (often reprinted), now A. s. F. Gow, Oxf.
1952; by the same Greek Bucolic Poets transl. with brief notes. Cambr. 1953.
J. M. EDMONDS in the Loeb Class. Libr. 1950. PH. E. LEGRAND, 2 vols. Coll. des
Un. de Fr. 1925/27 (new edition 1946/53). — Scholia: c. N. WENDEL, Leipz. 1914.
Id., Uberlieferung und Entstehung der Th.-Scholien. Abh. Gott. Ges. d. Wiss. 17/2,
1920. — Lexicon: J. RUMPEL, Leipz. 1879; repr. Hildesheim 1961. Language:
C. GALLAVOTTI, Lingua, tecnica e poesia negli idilli di T. Rome 1952. Interpreta-
tions: WILAMOWITZ, Hellenist. Dichtung. 2, 1924, 130. M. SANCHEZ-WILD-
BERGER, Theokrit-Interpretationen Diss. Ziirich 1955. Recent bibl. in . H. KUHN,
Herm. 86, 1958, 41, 5. - On Moschus: w. BUHLER, Die Europa des M. Text,
Ubers. u. Komm. Herm. E. 13, 1960, also valuable for stylistic problem of Hellen-
istic poetry.

4. APOLLONIUS
Of the many epic poems written between Homer and Nonnus one single great
epic has been preserved, the Argonautica by Apollonius Rhodius. By calling the
poet after this island we are at once in the middle of the problems connected with
the sparse and uncertain information about his life. Apollonius became a Rhodian,
because he passed part ofhis life in the island and perhaps was granted honorary
citizenship there, but he was the only important Hellenistic poet to be born in
Alexandria. He is occasionally called Naucratites, which may be connected
728
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

with his epic poem on the founding of Naucratis unless there is a somewhat
contemptuous allusion to his Egyptian origin concealed in the expression.
Our main sources, Suidas and two brief biographies,! call him a pupil of
Callimachus. Now in such cases we cannot rid ourselves of the fundamental
doubt that literary connections could have been made into a pupil-relationship,
but in this case a personal relation of this nature between the two men both
working in Alexandria has a great deal of probability in its favour. If Apollonius
may be thought to be the younger man, his birth will have to be dated between
295 and 290.
Earlier (p. 703) we had occasion to discuss the papyrus which establishes
Apollonius’ librarianship between Zenodotus and Eratosthenes as the most
important fact in his life. Since in this function he also was the governor of
Ptolemy III Euergetes, we can place the beginning of his administration in the
"sixties.
The questions of his relationship with Callimachus, his residence at Rhodes
and the writing of the Argonautica are extremely difficult through the poverty
and confusion of ancient information and they have produced a tremendous
quantity of literature.? We shall first outline as briefly as possible the position of
the problems. Callimachus’ utterances against the voluminous cyclical epic with
a continuous plot (p. 710) seem to hit at Apollonius’ work; on the other hand,
we have only scanty information about any ill-feeling between the two poets;
what there is connects Callimachus’ Ibis with Apollonius,’ while he is missing
among the Telchines’ names in the Florentine scholium on the Aetia prologue.
Furthermore, in the first of the two biographies we find data which cannot be
made to agree. According to one, Apollonius was first with his teacher Calli-
machus and turned to poetry only at a late date. The other states that as an
ephebe he had already publicized his Argonautica by means of an epideixis,
which may be taken to mean a recitation, but this had turned out to be a failure.
Thereupon he went to Rhodes, ashamed and hurt, revised the work there and
was successful when he recited this new version. The second biography tells the
same story and, appealing to ‘some people’, makes an addition; Apollonius
returned to Alexandria, where he gained such distinction that he was deemed
worthy of the library and the museum. He was even buried together
with Callimachus. Finally we find repeated reference in the scholia to a
previous edition (mpoé«doars) of the Argonautica, of which variants are given
as well.
It is difficult to separate out what can be known from this chaos of partly
contradictory information, more difficult at least than covering up lacunae and
discrepancies with all sorts of conjectures. In spite of all reserve we may rely on
the following facts: Apollonius was librarian at Alexandria, he went from Alex-
andria to Rhodes — obviously at a decisive turning-point in his life — and there
were two editions of the Argonautica, the second of which was written or
1 In Wendel’s edition of the scholia.
2 Abundant evidence in HERTER (v. inf.), 223.
3 Cf. p. 717, n. I in add. HERTER, Bursians Jahresber. 255, 1937, 89.
729
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

completed in Rhodes. Individual scholars! wanted to relegate the conflict with

Callimachus to the realm of fables since in fact Apollonius is not at al] at variance
with his teacher’s principles. But as there is no denying that the Argonautica 1s a
continuous (Sevexés) narrative poem of heroic deeds as demanded by the
Telchines in the prologue of the Aetia and that Callimachus rejects this, the
conflict of the two men may also be considered to be an historical fact; and
similarly a connection with Apollonius’ departure for Rhodes may be thought
likely.
We proceed a step further when we remind ourselves that the papyrus just
mentioned produced a second Apollonius, the idographer, as librarian after
Aristophanes of Byzantium.? Confusion was inevitable and it is very likely that
the variant of the biography which makes Apollonius return to Alexandria after
the Rhodes period and only then become librarian owes its origin to the incorrect
identification of the Rhodian with the idographer.? If this is so, the report which
knows of a return of Apollonius to Alexandria and inserts his librarianship in a
late period of his life, but the writing of the Argonautica in an early one, is
unmasked as a conjecture. But then the conception based on the first variant of
the first biography, i.e. on a late start of Apollonius’ poetic activity, becomes
more likely. This start should be allotted to the period of the librarianship, the
duration of which can be determined to some extent. The office of librarian was
connected with that of tutor to the prince. Since Euergetes (b. about 280) was
his charge, we arrive, as has been stated, in the ’sixties. On the other hand, we
have the valuable information in Suidas (v. Eratosthenes) that Eratosthenes,
Apollonius’ successor, was called upon to undertake the direction of the library
by Ptolemy Euergetes. In 246 this ruler mounted the Lagides’ throne, but we
have to keep open the possibility that he had Eratosthenes appointed when he
was still heir apparent, so that we shall have to go back a few years for Apollonius’
departure. There is no simple proof, but it remains by far the most likely
assumption that this departure of Apollonius was connected with Callimachus’
opposition, which in turn was influenced or given impetus by the direction
which Apollonius’ poetry had taken. But then we may place some confidence
in the tradition which testifies to a twofold edition of the Argonautica and believe
that the first was written in Alexandria, the second in Rhodes. And the possibility
cannot even be excluded that the report of the unfortunate epideixis in Alex-
andria contains some truth, even though we shall have to imagine this as taking
place not in the poet’s youth, but during his time as librarian. It is natural
enough to bring together this Alexandrian epideixis with the first provisional
edition mentioned by the scholia. It is not known how long Apollonius, writing
poetry and teaching grammar, lived in Rhodes after he settled there.
It is not until the Hellenistic age that, with Apollonius’ Argonautica, we dis-

J (Gi, Worelilal ja). HAUT TH, De2, NE ais entirely uncertain if the epigram Ant. Pal. 11, 275 implies
an attack by Apollonius on Callimachus, cf. HERTER, Bursians Jahresber. 285, 1944/55, 224.
* On the possibility that he should be dated prior to Aristophanes, v. jackin ee
> So also H. HERTER in his recent sensible discussion ‘Zur Lebensgeschichte des A. v. R.’.
Rhein. Mus. 91, 1942, 315.

730
 THE HEELENISTIC AGE

cover a complete epic presentation of this circle of legends, one of the oldest in
Greek mythology. In the Odyssey we could identify the echo of ancient poetry
which related the story of the voyage to the sunland Aca on the great stream of
Ocean (cf. p. 43), but in Apollonius’ time this had long been lost. But poetry
in all its forms had time and again turned to the legend of the Argonauts and the
local history of many places connected with it. Thus Apollonius was faced with
a rich tradition with many, partly contradictory, variants. We cannot imagine
his source studies extensive enough; the thoroughness with which he proceeded
and the pains he took are especially perceptible in the first two books of the
Argonautica.
The composition exhibits generally a systematic arrangement as the subject
matter presented itself. The first two books describe the voyage to the land of
Colchis, the third the adventures leading to the winning of the Fleece, while the
fourth tells of the dangers of the flight and the return home. The stress on
details, however, is variedly distributed; beside rapid transitions there are
passages over which he has lingered lovingly, so that we observe the same
rejection of symmetry, the same tendency to variety as elsewhere in Hellenistic
poetry.
While a prooemium with prayer formula is merely indicated and much of
the preceding history is saved for later, the introductory passage offers an
elaborate catalogue of the Argonauts, geographically arranged in the manner of
a periplus and leading from the north of Greece via east and west back to
north. The catalogue tradition of ancient epic served as its model. The scenes
of departure in Iolcus and on the beach of Pagasae are spun out in detail; then
follows the long series of stopping places and adventures on the way out, which
is made along the usual route to Colchis. For the part up to the passage through
the Symplegades, which are thought to be at the entrance to the Pontus, the
tradition had a number of effective episodes ready-made which he elaborated
successfully. There is in the first place the landing in Lemnos, whose women,
under a curse of Aphrodite, had killed their husbands. But now they are glad to
put up the Argonauts. The result is a delectable sojourn from which Heracles
has to call his companions to action. Then follow the initiation in the mysteries
at Samothrace and the adventures in Cyzicus where the Argonauts give the
Doliones effective help against the evil giants, only to get into a bitterly regretted
nocturnal battle with their friends through a misunderstanding, when they are
driven back to Cyzicus by unfavourable winds. The next stop on the coast of the
Propontis brings the Hylas episode. Nymphs seize the beautiful boy, Heracles
seeks him in the woods and the Argonauts continue their voyage without him,
since the sea-god Glaucus announces that the herois destined to perform other
deeds. In this way the greatest of the companions is eliminated beside whom
Jason would have been unthinkable as the main hero in Colchis.
The story passes without a stop from Book 1 to Book 2, which begins with
t The mythology in 1. RADERMACHER, Mythos und Sage bei den Griechen. 2nd ed. Vienna
1938, 154. On the original fairyland object of the voyage A. LESKY, ‘Aia’. Wien. Stud. 63,
1948, 22.
731
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Pollux’ boxing match against Amycus, the barbarian king of the Bebryces.
This story as well as that of Hylas was also the subject of poems by Theocritus.
When we discussed these, we also touched upon the vexing question ofpriority.
In Bithynia the Argonauts come upon the blind king Phineus who, in deep
misery, is doing penance for some ancient offence. The Boreades liberate him
from the Harpies, predatory storm spirits who rob him of every meal or defile
it. As a reward he gives them good advice for the rest of their voyage. The
compositional significance of this preview is that the various minor episodes of
the second half of the voyage are summed up in it. The passage through the
Symplegades after the pigeon’s test flight is depicted with dramatic power; then
there follow up to Colchis a number of stops of minor importance, of which
only the island of Ares rates a mention. There the Argonauts drive out the
Stymphalian birds, and there they meet the sons of Phrixus, who want to go
to their father’s native land. Their mother is Chalciope, Acetes’ daughter and
sister of Medea. She is going to play her part in the events in Colchis and so the
meeting in the island of Ares forms a link between the description of the voyage
and the winning of the Golden Fleece.
Book 3 starts with a new prooemium and portrays the events in Colchis by
means of a technique which often resolves the happenings into parallel strands
of action. Medea’s decisive intervention is first motivated in a scene in which
the goddesses Hera and Athene enjoin Aphrodite to have Eros do his work.
Independent from this motivation, however, Medea’s awakening love, her hard
struggle between loyalty to her father’s house and passion for the handsome
stranger is presented to us as a drama full of tension with the girl’s soul for a
stage. Another plot concerning Chalciope, which leads to the intervention of
Phrixus’ widow and the decisive talk between the sisters, runs alongside it. The
plot is split up further in that the council in the Argonauts’ camp and in that of
the Colchians is depicted separately. The composition of this book is particularly
careful; developing through several stages, it comes to the meeting of Medea
and Jason, when he receives the magic ointment; then follows the yoking of the
fire-breathing bulls and the defeat of the armed men who spring out of the
sown dragons’ teeth (a theme taken from the Cadmus legend), and finally,
when treason threatens from Aeetes’ side, Jason carries off the Fleece and escapes
with Medea.
The last two events, however, already belong in Book 4, which begins with
a brief invocation to the Muse, in which the poet asks the question whether
Medea’s action is fate or a responsible deed, without giving an answer.
The return differs completely in aspect from the voyage to Colchis. When
the fabulous land Aea on the bank of Ocean used to be the Argonauts’ goal,
they sailed back on the mighty circling river and came from it He the Medi-
terranean. One of the most enchanting chapters of mythical geography is the
way in which it modified the return of the Argonauts as the knowledge of
foreign countries and seas increased, newly discovered facts and ancient mythical
elements forming various and often grotesque combinations.! In Apollonius this
' Survey in A. LEsKy, Thalatta, Vienna 1947, OI.
732
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
return voyage has developed a particularly complex and rich background,
individual phases achieving a vivid dramatic life through the pursuing Colchians.
Apollonius could no longer let the Argonauts reach the Ocean through the
Phasis, so he makes them sail up the Ister for which he followed a rare version
of Timagetus, one of the Hellenistic writers of works On Ports (Ilepi Ayevwv).
In the voyage through the Ister, Eridanus and Rhodanus into the Tyrrhenian
sea the unusual description of river branches plays a great part which fits quite
well into this phantastical geography. The mouth of one of the branches of the
Ister is thought to be in the Gulf of Fiume; there the group of pursuers which
took a different route under Apsyrtus overtakes the fugitives and there Medea’s
brother falls a victim to her ruse. In the Tyrrhenian sea the Argonauts go to see
Circe, Aeetes’ sister, who purifies Jason and Medea from blood guilt in a series
of scenes elaborated with psychological effect, but who nevertheless turns the
guilty couple out of her house. On the next leg of the voyage to the island of
the Phaeacians the Argonauts pass by mythical places from the Odyssey which
Apollonius, in accordance with the widely accepted contemporary theory,
thought to be in the western part of the Mediterranean, like the island of the
Sirens and the Planctae. This danger spot was negotiated with the aid and large-
scale participation of benevolent gods. When they are with the Phaeacians, who
live in Corcyra, the fugitives meet the second group of Colchians. Since
Alcinous only wants to surrender Medea if they are not married, a quick
wedding is celebrated in Corcyra.
From Corcyra the Argonauts do not yet reach home; there follows a passage,
rather like an appendix, into which the various traditional stories have been
fitted. A gale of nine days — we know the number on such an occasion from the
Odyssey — sweeps the Argonauts to Libya. Here there are still all sorts of en-
counters and dangers. As in Pindar (Pyth. 4), the Argonauts have to carry their
ship over land for twelve days. In one situation in which there seems to be no
way that leads any farther, Triton turns up as a helper. The vanquishing of the
bronze Cretan giant Talos has been inserted in the last leg of the homeward
voyage. Also two aetia, one of a sacrificial custom in Anape, the other for an
agon in Aegina, have been put in. Callimachus (fr. 7, 19. 198 Pf.) dealt with
these as well. A brief and entirely unadorned report on the voyage to Pagasae is
joined on to the poet’s wish for a blessing for his work, a prayer which has a
formal kinship with the conclusion of hymns to the gods.
Apollonius’ epic has numerous aspects which depend largely on the literary-
historical background of the work. Consequently it has been very variedly
appreciated in the course of time. To one it seems unpoetical, dry, pedantic,
while others — and especially in recent times such a judgment is increasing -
stress the truly poetical qualities in the Argonautica.
In the first place it should be clearly understood that the intellectual world
out of which this epic originated was separated from that of Homer by an im-
measurable distance. When the older poets moulded for their people the history
of the heroic past, they claimed that their verses imbued true events with
splendour and permanence. And in these events gods were active everywhere,
(ES
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

great spirits inspiring faith who helpfully allied themselves with man or wrath-
fully struck out at him. This sort of reality had not existed for Apollonius for a
long time. The living myth had already become mythology for people like him
or it was proceeding toward this condition. Hardly anything can be said about
Apollonius’ personal religious feelings, but his attitude to tradition cannot have
been very different from Callimachus’. His pen was guided by an erudite interest
in mythical tradition and at the same time a delight in the unfading beauty of
its creations. Both can be discerned in his verse.
The tremendous distance from Homer’s world is in exciting contrast with the
fact that numerous and essential elements of ancient epic remained preserved.
In Apollonius also the gods act, but the very nature of the great Olympian scene
at the opening of Book 3 reveals the ornamental character of such passages.
With Hera, Athene and Eros a complete divine apparatus is developed, but
Medea’s love and its consequences are also imaginable without it. And in the
portrayal of the girl’s emotional struggles we recognize this poet much more
directly than in the conversations of the Olympians. While in Homer man’s
actions were determined by his own impulses and the influence of the gods
simultaneously, this duality of motivation has now resulted in separate spheres
of action. The divine plot takes place on an upper stage; its connection with
earthly happenings is neither indissoluble nor irrevocably necessary.
Apollonius retains important formal elements of Homeric epic. While he is
sparing with metaphors, he uses similes with great frequency. But their free
spontaneity as we know it in Homer has been restricted in favour of a more
direct bearing on the action, though the subject matter has been expanded in
many directions. Illustration of emotions by means of similes, found in Homer
only in an initial stage,' has been developed by him with great skill. Thus
Medea’s agitation and irresolution are elucidated by the image of the sun’s ray
(3. 756), which is reflected on to a wall by the ruffled surface of water.? This
rare simile returns in Virgil (Aen. 8. 22) and Aristaenetus (2. 5), a good example
of the ramifications of Hellenistic tradition. Apollonius also uses stock scenes,
but he restricts — and this is characteristic for the limits of his formal imitation of
Homer — completely recurrent formulae to a minimum. This is connected with
another, fundamentally important, observation. Apollonius’ language is largely
based on Homer. But this does not mean that he accepted the tradition without
due reflection or that he imitated it naively. It is rather a repetition of what we
already observed in the case of Antimachus of Colophon; the linguistic resources
borrowed are given new effectiveness through constant, well-planned variation,
sometimes even by means of a shifting of the meaning. Added to this Apollonius
was widely read, which circumstance admitted an influx of elements from post-
Homeric poetry up to his own time.
' W. SCHADEWALDT, Iliasstudien. Abh. Sachs. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 43/6, 1938, 120, 4.
> A surmise about Stoic origin of this image in H. FRANKEL, Mus. Helv. 14, 1957, i772
3G. MARXER, Die Sprache des A. Rh. in ihrer Beziehung zu Homer. Diss. Ziirich 1935.
H. ERBSE, ‘Homerscholien und hellenistische Glossare bei A. Rh.’. Herm. 81, 1953, 163 in
which it is demonstrated that A. utilizes the most diverse linguistic elements but not the
grammatical scholarship of his time.
734
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

The Homeric legacy which functions as a sort of framework for this epic with
regard to themes and style, is contrasted by what we have to consider as its
Hellenistic element. In the first place he was a realist, the expression to be taken
in its broadest sense; this realism is in the final analysis connected with the altered
attitude toward the myths, with the awareness of their illusory nature. What we
mean is most closely akin to what H. Frinkel lately summarized under the
catchword of fixation. Apollonius may be granted important poetic ability,
there may be much that is praiseworthy in his work, but he was not truly a poet
filled with the god; time and again we are struck by the factual coolness with
which his glance takes in things. And this also entails the great care taken in
motivation and establishment of cohesion. It is only one, though a very im-
portant, aspect of this attitude that Apollonius, unlike Homer, put his story on
the basis of a continuous and verifiable period of time.
The poet frequently accounts for contemporary customs by seeking explana-
tions in early history, and in this way he links his own time with the mythical
past. Apollonius is a true Hellenist in that he devotes a large part of his poem to
aetiological matters, interspersing the narrative of the voyage with a wealth of
such stories.
As a portrayer of emotions, especially of those with which Eros visits the
human soul, Apollonius belongs entirely in the sphere of Hellenistic poetry,
which had its origin in Euripides’ works. It has always been considered that his
best achievement was his description of Medea’s pangs and doubts until,
following her own passion and at the same time moved by other impulses, she
goes her fatal way. After the longwinded description of the outward voyage
which at times sinks down to the level of a learned guide book in spite of
effective episodes, we enter the realm of true poetry with the passages indicated.
This is also attested by the tremendous subsequent influence of Book 3 in
ancient literature. It is also comparable with Euripides in that the effective
portrayal of an individual emotion is more important than a completely drawn
picture of a character. The girl who is close to a breakdown in the tempest of
her first passion, and the great sorceress who with supreme control applies her
skills in the further course of things could not be readily combined in one
description.
We also observe a Hellenistic element in many a description of nature which
would be unthinkable in this way in the old epic. There are successful seascapes
in which new colour effects are achieved, as the sailing of the Argo when the
dark flood foams under the beat of the oars, the men’s armour flashes like fire in
the morning light and the long wake seems like a bright path in a green meadow.
Apollonius also shares with the rest of Hellenistic art the discovery of children.!
The Eros of the celestial scenes of Book 3 is a veritable model of the spoilt
rascal who cheats his comrades at play and can only be induced by his divine
mother to perform a service by means of an expensive present. It is hardly
possible to imagine a greater contrast than that between this scene and that in
Book 1 of the Aeneid, when Venus addresses the numen of her son Amor!
I <4, HERTER, ‘Das Kind im Zeitalter des Hellenismus’. Beier Jahrb. 132, 1927, 250.
135
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

It will have become clear that Apollonius cannot be characterized concisely.

He proves himself to be a poet of considerable importance in not a few passages
of his work, but he was by no means completely successful in blending the rich
tradition which attracted the scholar with his own creation without some
annoying sediment. His fire was too weak to fuse all the heterogeneous elements
into one whole.
The remnants which attest Apollonius’ Ctisis poetry are exceedingly scanty.
He wrote in hexameters about the founding of the cities of Alexandria,
Naucratis, Cnidos, Rhodes and Caunus. Attribution of a Founding of Lesbos is
doubtful. The poem Canobus, dealing with the city near Alexandria, a favourite
pleasure resort, was written in choliambs. We also know of scholarly works on
Homer (IIpds Zyvddorov), on Hesiod, Archilochus and Antimachus.'
The appreciation of Hellenistic literature is strongly influenced by Calli-
machean literary principles. The Argonautica is practically the only surviving
work which deviates from these. This should not lead to the wrong conclusion
that voluminous epic poems had become a rarity in the Hellenistic era. Just as
previously we saw Lysander (p. 304) in search of a poetic herald of his deeds,
the Hellenistic rulers were also fond of having their praise proclaimed. There
was Choerilus of Iasos,2 who wrote for Alexander the Great, Simonides of
Magnesia for Antiochus and Musaeus of Ephesus for the Attalids. Mythological
epic poetry flourished alongside these. We can give only some names here and
are not confident in every case that the author concerned does not belong in the
imperial age. The tradition is at any rate the same. In the scholia on Apollonius
mention is made of the Argonautica by Cleon of Curion and Theolytus; Menelaus
of Aegae wrote a Thebaid; Antagoras and Demosthenes dealt with the same sub-
ject. Heracles, for whom we mention Diotimus of Adramyttion, and Dionysus,
connected with the name of Neoptolemus of Parium, were also favourite themes
of this late epic. Nicaenetus of Samos or Abdera wrote of the adventures of
Lyrcus with which the founding of Caunos (v. supra Apollonius’ ctisis~poetry)
is connected; a Catalogue of Women is mentioned and some epigrams have been
preserved; local history was also treated, in epic form. While generally we have
hardly any reason to deplore the loss of all these products, such as the splemiioe
Bithyniaca of Demosthenes of Bithynia, we encounter in Rhianus of Crete a poet
of greater importance and wider influence. He wrote his poems in the second
half of the third century and was also active as a dramatist. The readings preserved
in the scholia give us a favourable impression of his edition of Homer. As an epic
poet he wrote a Heraclea in fourteen books and some poems named after districts:
Thessalica, Achaica, Eliaca and Messeniaca. In general we do not know how the
elements of mythical and historical tradition were distributed, but we can say a
little more of the Messeniaca which Pausanias utilized in Book 4 alongside the
historian Myron of Priene.3 Here (6. 3) we learn that Aristomenes, the hero of

* On an epigram attributed to Apollonius v. p. 730 n. 1.

? WILL RICHTER, Nachr. Ak. Gott. Phil-hist. Kl. 1960/3, 41, 3, calls Choerilus ‘the courtly
flatterer of Alexander, the notorious caricature of a pseudo-poet’.
3 J. KROYMANN, Pausanias und Rhianos. Berlin 1943.
736
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
the second Messenian war, played a no less important part in Rhianus than
Achilles in the Iliad. A fragment of unknown origin preserved by Stobaeus
(1 Powell) contains twenty-one plainly and firmly constructed hexameters about
the blindness of mankind. A series of Epigrams (66-76 Powell; fasc. 6, 64 D.)
displays conventional love themes.

The main textual source for Apollonius is the Laurentianus 32. 9 of the beginning
of the eleventh century which we mentioned in connection with Aeschylus and
Sophocles. In addition there is some other noteworthy tradition; H. FRANKEL
(v. infra) distinguished three families. The papyri (no. 52-65 P.) yield little.
P. KINGSTON, ‘A papyrus of Ap. Rhod.’. Univ. of London. Bulletin of the Inst. of
Class. Stud. 7, 1960. H. FRANKEL, ‘Die Handschriften der Argon. des A. v. Rh.’.
GGN Phil.-hist. Kl. 1929, 164 has clarified the foundations of the recensio.
Standard text H. FRANKEL, Oxf. 1961 (Oxf. Class. T.) which has replaced older
editions by A. WELLAUER (Leipz. 1828), R. MERKEL (Leipz. 1854) and R. c.
SEATON, Oxf. 1900. Comm. eds. of Book 3: M. M. GILLIES, Cambr. 1928.
A. ARDIZZONI, Bari 1958. F. VIAN, Paris 1961. The abundant scholia in which
material from several ancient comm. (Theon under Augustus, Lucillus of
Tarrha, Ist or 2nd c. a.D., Sophocles in the 2nd c. a.p.) has been incorporated,
in the excellent edition of c. WENDEL, Berl. 1935; 2nd unrev. ed. 1958; id.:
Die Uberlieferung der Scholien zu A. v. Rh. Abh. d. Gétt. Ges. d. Wiss. 1932. -
Verbal index in WELLAUER’s edition. — Translation: German, Th. v. Scheffer.
Leipz. 1940; English, £. v. RrEU, Penguin Class. 1959. For the bibl. on Apollonius
we possess a unique aid: H. HERTER, Bursians Jahresber. 285, 1944/55, 213. In add.
the important essay by H. FRANKEL, ‘Das Argonautenepos des A.’. Mus. Helv.
14, 1957, 1. On the characteristics of individual personages, id. “Ein Don Quijote
unter den Argonauten des Apollonios’. Mus. Helv. 17, 1960, 1. Some details in
A. Ardazzoni, ‘Note crit. ed. eseg. sul testo di Ap. Rhod.’. Riv. Fil. 34, 1956, 364.
— The fragments of Apollonius as well as of other epic poets in J. U. POWELL,
Collectanea Alexandrina. Oxf. 1925, 4. 9. For Rhianus also D. fasc. 6, 64 F Gr
Hist 265 — K. ZIEGLER, Das Hellenistische Epos. Leipz. 1934.

5 EPIGRAM
The epigrams of Callimachus and Theocritus were discussed in a previous
chapter; both these poets made their contributions to raising a form which had
a long history behind it! to the degree of perfection which it reached in the
Hellenistic age. As we said before (p. 641), the final phase of this development
had already become evident in the fourth century. The old inscription on
funeral stele and sacrificial object began to be separated from its vehicle and to
live a life of its own. But it would be wrong to think that this divorce was
I y, sup. p. 1723 303; 417; 641. On the theory of the epigram, LESSING, Zerstreute Anmer-
kungen iiber das Epigramm und einige der vornehmsten Epigrammatisten (1771) and HERDER in the
Anmerkungen iiber die Anthologie der Griechen (Vol. 15, 344. 372 of the ed. by B. SUPHAN).
737
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

complete.' In the Hellenistic period and the time following it, epigrams still
appeared as actual inscriptions on stone. Epigraphical works overwhelm us with
examples, and it is enough to open, for instance, Heberdey’s Termessus-volume
of the Tituli Asiae Minoris (III/1) to see what artistic ambition still achieved with
varying success even under the empire. But this does not alter the fact that the
epigram freed itself from its original subjection to its purpose and could appear
as independent literature.
The tremendously increased scope of themes now cast in the form of epi-
grams was the result of this newly gained freedom. It may be stated without
exaggeration that this form, like none other, became the faithful mirror of the
diversity and at the same time of the narrowness of Hellenistic life. For Alex-
andria and its literary domains it achieved about the same as Menander’s
comedy for Athens, which means that the lofty note of self-sacrificing devotion
and proved bravery which rings from the funeral inscriptions in the times of
Greek freedom have fallen silent. In their stead a rich stream of themes from
everyday life flows in. A peculiar development is evident from the first themes
which we wish to introduce, the pleasures of the banquet and those of love (and
its attendant sorrows). Earlier (p. 172) we said that it was worth while con-
sidering the possibility that in the early history of the epigram elegy as a lament
for the dead and as a hymn had influenced epitaphs and dedications. In the era
under discussion the epigram approached elegy again and one might well
wonder whether Callimachus’ Ep. 1 or Leonidas, Anth. Pal. to. 1 should be
called a short elegy or an epigram. But also the older monodic lyric was still
thriving, so that it could be said that only now the epigram actually became a
lyric poem expressing the most varied shades of feeling. It is significant that
Asclepiades, Anth. Pal. 12. 50 (this is also basically a short elegy) very em-
phatically quotes Alcaeus (346 LP). The Hellenistic poet, of course, combines
the quotation with an artistic variation. Certainly we have to imagine that not a
few of these epigrams were declaimed at a banquet of friends such as were held
in Alexandria or Rhodes or in other places. The spoken epigram took the place
of the sung scolion of earlier times, and this occurrence is symptomatic.
The range of subject matter of these epigrams extended far beyond the
sphere of the symposium and of love; it comprised such varying themes as a
description of primitive occupations, impressions received from nature, or a
discussion of works of art. The form of the epigram also showed a variety of
patterns; funeral and votive inscriptions continued to be composed mainly
according to the old models, even when they were fictional, but the influence
of the mime led to a vivid dramatization. An example of an epigram which was
really a mime is Anth. Pal. 5. 181, in which Asclepiades abuses a servant who
dares utter only a timid objection, and then sends him off to do some shopping
on credit; or Anth. Pal. 5. 46, an epigram of Philodemus’ with a bold accunmules
tion of fragments of conversation. Here this development reaches its peak.
The motley diversity of the Hellenistic epigram is not only due to its subject
' In opposition to R. REITZENSTEIN, Epigramm und Skolion. Giessen 1893, WILAMOWITZ’
treatment of the problem in Hellenist. Dicht. 1, Berl. 1924 (2nd unaltered ed. 1961), IIQ.
738
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

matter, it is expressed no less forcefully by the variety in the individual poets.

Certain differences of style — they have been called schools — are noted. The
artistic physiognomy of Leonidas of Tarentum shows interesting features. At an
early stage he left his home in lower Italy, wrote for Neoptolemus in Epirus,
then for Pyrrhus, and died in 260 after a restless wandering life. He likes to
pretend that poor men like huntsmen and peasants dedicate their tools to the
gods of the district in which they perform their labours. He was assiduously
imitated up to a very late date, as shown by Anth. Pal. 6. 4, the fisherman’s
dedication.! In Leonidas the misery and realism of the theme stands in a peculiar
and affected contrast to the language, which is of a baroque extravagance. Yet
he can express himself more simply as well, as in Anth. Pal. 10. 1, in which
Priapus, here as the god at the harbour, announces the beginning of sea travel
in the midst of the delights of spring. He can also swing into a powerful attack
on opponents, and we feel directly sympathetic when the homeless poet com-
plains of his restless life and finds his only consolation in the gift of the Muses
(Anth. Pal. 7. 715, probably the concluding poem of his collection).
Among the poets of mainland Greece Phalaecus, probably a Phocian, and
Perses of Thebes wrote epigrams even before 300. What we have of the latter
shows that they were plain inscriptions; the prosodists have called a verse
Phalaecean after the former, like a Simiac after Simias of Rhodes (v. p. 725) and
a Callimachean after the great Alexandrian. They all used a stichic metre
borrowed from older lyric poetry which they developed further. The epigram-
matist Mnasalces of Sicyon, who wrote in the middle of the third century, was
obviously an imitator who, like so many after him, trifled with variations on the
traditional themes. It is noteworthy that in this circle we meet poetesses of no
inconsiderable merit. Nossis of Epizephyrian Locri wished to compete with
Sappho in epigram Anth. Pal. 7. 718, which evidently concluded her book of
poems; Anyte of Tegea shows her charm in delicate descriptions of nature
(e.g. Anth. Pal. 9. 144), when she observes children at play (Anth. Pal. 6. 312)
or writes an epitaph for a dead pet. Both these poetesses also tried writing
hymns.
In the Greek Orient the art of the epigram shows a marked contrast with
Leonidas’ manner. Side by side with Callimachus, who proves his mastery in the
rejection of all superfluous ornament, in rigid tension and controlled concise-
ness, there is Asclepiades of Samos, who wrote circa 320 to 290. We heard his
praise sung in Theocritus’ Thalysia, in which he appears as Sicelidas and we were
surprised to encounter him in the Florentine scholium on the prologue to the
Aetia, together with Posidippus among Callimachus’ opponents, the Telchines.
In his verse we recognize the pleasure-seeker who has a great deal to say about
love, both of beautiful women and of boys. Many of his verses are quite risqué
(cf. Anth. Pal. 5. 203. 207), but he never sinks to those depths of prurience
which was a common feature of the later epigrams. The slightness of the
majority of themes corresponds with the extreme simplicity of style. But he
shows his skill in the compactness and directness of atmosphere which he calls
1 Cf. Anth. Pal. 6. 5. 23. 25-30. 90. 192 f.
739
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

up and the honest feeling which he expresses. Although they had many points
in common, he is far removed by his lively temperament from Callimachus’
loftiness. Splendid proof of this is found in Anth. Pal. 5. 64, a prescription for a
life full of pride and passion; Zeus, the god whose own ardour showed him the
way through bronze walls, is not going to stop him from enjoying the pleasures
of love with his snow and hail, thunder and lightning.
Asclepiades probably lived for some time in Alexandria where he became
friendly with Posidippus of Macedonian Pella and Hedylus of Samos. Posidippus
composed poetry for the Aeolians, who honoured him with their proxeny; he
also took an interest in philosophy before he took up writing epigrams in the
style of Asclepiades in Alexandria. Hedylus is a product of the Samian com-
munity whose zest for life still echoes in his verse and who played an important
part in the development of his style. His family was favoured by the Muses. We
have a fragment of an elegiac narrative Scylla (fasc. 6, 48 D.) by his mother
Hedyle, a daughter of the Attic iambic poetess Moschine.
The names which we gave here represent a selection from a great abundance,
but from among the many others Heraclitus of Halicarnassus should at least be
mentioned; we have of him only one surviving epigram, a funeral poem on a
young woman who died in childbed (Anth. Pal. 7. 465), which reveals a deep
and strong emotion.
The flourishing of the epigram lasted through the most vigorous epoch of the
Hellenistic age, and came to an end together with it soon after the middle of the
century. When at the end of the third century the Greek desire for freedom was
roused once more and the Aetolian league with Sparta at its side faced Macedon
in the War of the Allies (220-217), epigrams resounded once again with the
praise of Spartan ideals, steadfastness in battle and heroic death. Alcaeus of
Messene was the leader of a not inconsiderable chorus. This period ended when
Flamininus proclaimed to the Greeks their Roman-made freedom at the Isthmian
games of the year 196. In Alexandria at this time Dioscorides also sang of
ancient Spartan discipline. Here the political alignment played a part, since for
the present Egypt was supporting Cleomenes. For the rest he wrote erotic
epigrams in imitation of Asclepiades, but he is particularly interesting for a
number of epigrams on literary personalities! such as Thespis, Aeschylus,
Sophocles and Sositheus (Anth. Pal. 7. 410 f. 37. 707), which seem to have
belonged to illustrations of a book.
At the end of the second and the beginning of the first century the Hellenistic
epigram underwent a late revival in a group of poets collectively called the
Phoenician School. Antipater of Sidon is not a poet of power and originality,
but he exhibits greater seriousness than the other epigrammatists of the time by
giving, for instance, profound interpretations of the symbols of funeral monu-
ments (Anth. Pal. 7. 423-427; cf. Leonidas 7. 422).* Meleager of Gadara entirely
follows the tradition of the Alexandrian epigram with his poems of wine and

' M. GABATHULER, Hellenistische Epigramme auf Dichter. St Gallen 1937.

* Epigraphical texts for Antipater given by w. PEEK, ‘Delische Weihepigramme’. Herm.
76, 1941, 408.
740
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

love. Philodemus of the same city, the Epicurean of Herculaneum (v. p. 682),
also belongs to this circle with his lewdly erotic epigrams. The most important
observation about these productions is that rhetoric is gaining a greater hold
on the writing of epigrams with its metaphors and sound-effects. The subject
matter used by poets like Meleager and Philodemus had a great deal in common
with the Latin love elegy, but they are clearly separated on the other hand by
the decreased dominance of subjectivity and a greater realism.
Jt was not until the turn of the century that the epigram came to new life with
poets like Crinagoras, but he marks the beginning of a development which it
will be better to discuss in a later section.

The fact that we can read epigrams from a variety of periods and by so many
writers is due to a much-stratified tradition whose history can be largely
reconstructed.
The collecting of epigrams was begun early in the Hellenistic era if not
earlier. When Philochorus made his collection of Attic inscriptions (v. p. 666),
it also contained poetry as a matter of course. On the other hand, there are good
grounds for assuming that several of the above-mentioned poets of epigrams
published them in the form of books. In addition there were in the Hellenistic
age collections of epigrams by different writers, as the papyri (no. 1256. 1258.
1263. 1393 P.) show. The one published by Meleager of Gadara in 70 B.c. under
the title Stephanus was destined to have the greatest influence. Its introductory
poem has been preserved (Anth. Pal. 4. 1). We may believe the lemmatist of the
Palatinus (v. infra) that it was arranged in alphabetical order. Next came the
collection of Philippus of Thessalonice, likewise a Stephanus, compiling in a.p.
40 the epigrams written since Meleager, once again alphabetically arranged.
Again the introductory poem of this Garland with an enumeration of the poets
it contained found its way into the collection preserved (Anth. Pal. 4. 2).
Philippus’ Garland showed the clearest indication of a literary school; attempts
to outline such schools as the Peloponnesian, Alexandrian or Phoenician accord-
ing to style and subject matter are of doubtful value. Information about collec-
tions in later times are mostly very vague; of great importance is the one which
Agathias published in connection with the revival of epigrammatic poetry
towards the end of antiquity in the middle of the sixth century. Suidas quotes it
as Cyclus; we find the introductory poem in the Anth. Pal. (4.3); it was arranged
in subject-groups. When epigrams found renewed interest in the Byzantine
Renaissance, and people even began to write them, various smaller collections,
among which the earliest was the Sylloge Euphemiana, were made; in 900 Con-
stantine Cephalas, the highest churchman (protopapas) at the court of Byzan-
tium, compiled the largest. He took the three old ones mentioned as his basis and
added individual poets from various editions. He attempted to combine corre-
sponding subject-groups, but he was not entirely successful, so that groups in
alphabetical order have been preserved. The evidence which we have is founded
741
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

on Cephalas’ collection. In the year 1299 (on the date cf. BEcKBy in the introduc-
tion 70. 4) the monk Planudes finished in Constantinople the collection in seven
books which we usually refer to as the Anthologia Planudea and which is pre-
served in the Marcianus 481 in his own copy. It was the only one to preserve the
memory of the Greek epigram, until at the end of the sixteenth century a much
more comprehensive collection emerged in the Heidelberg Codex Palatinus 23.
The manuscript was mainly written by four scribes in 980; it has scholia and its
first part has been checked by a corrector. Of importance are also the additions
of the so-called lemmatist, a well-informed man who appended lemmata. The
Heidelberg manuscript soon caused a sensation; it was donated to Pope Gregory
XV (1623) by Maximilian of Bavaria and so came to the Vatican. It was then
divided in two parts bound separately, and this was to prove disastrous. In the
year 1797 Napoleon demanded the surrender of the manuscript which then
came to the National Library in Paris. When after the conclusion of peace in
1815 its return to Germany was asked for and obtained, only the first larger part
of the manuscript came back, while the second with the last two books of the
anthology remained in France as Parisinus Suppl. Gr. 384. Both parts were
collected in an excellent reproduction by kK. PREISENDANZ, Anthologia Palatina,
codex Palatinus et codex Parisinus phototypice editi. Leiden 1911.
The collection of the Anth. Pal. contains (according to the modern number-
ing) in Book 4 the introductory poems which Meleager, Philippus and Agathias
prefixed to their collections. The anthologist copied them from Constantine
Cephalas’ work, the same applying substantially to Books 5-7, and 9-12,
although actually there is no certainty with regard to all the parts, especially of
Book 12. The ancient collection was extended in the Anth. Pal. with Books 1-3,
8, 13-15 (later poems, many of them Christian, but also older work which had
not been included by Cephalas).
The most notable difference between Palatina and Planudea is that the latter
has another 388 poems, although in other respects its volume is smaller than that
of the Palatina. Modern editions of the anthology append this surplus as
Appendix Planudea, or Book 16, to the Palatina. According to his own indica-
tions Planudes used two prototypes. One could have been the Codex Palatinus
itself or a copy of it, the second, however, an independent abbreviated edition of
Cephalas.
Editions: For a complete text of the Anth. Pal. we are still dependent on
F. DUBNER-E. COUGNY, 3 vols. Paris 1864-90 (with Latin translation). In the
Loeb Class. Libr. the text was prepared without apparatus, with an English
transl. by w. Rk. PATON, 5 vols. Lond. from 1917. The Teubneriana by H. STADT-
MULLER, important because ofits apparatus criticus, is unfinished; available are:
I (Book 1-6) 1894; II/1 (Bk 7) 1899; III/r (Bk 9, 1-563) 1906. G. LUCK, Gnom.
30, 1958, 274, draws attention to some manuscripts from Planudes’ circle
(Marc. XI/1) in Planudes’ own hand which could be utilized. The bilingual
edition of the Coll. des Univ. de Fr. by p. watz and G. soury, frequently
reprinted, has progressed to the seventh volume (9. 1-358) in the years 1928-60.
All the 16 books with apparatus criticus, German transl. and notes are now
742
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

available in the 4 vols. of the Tusculum-Biicherei, prepared by H. BECKBy,

Munich 1957-58. The readings of Marcianus 481, unknown so far, have been
included for Books 10-16. Vol. 1 has an extensive introduction with a history of
the epigram, enumeration of the textual evidence and copious bibl. a. presta,
Ant. Pal. con introd. di G. PERROTTA. Rome 1957. — Since the discovery of the
Palatina the Anthologia Planudea has only had some value as an aid for restoration.
The latest edition is the one by H. DE BOSCH, 5 vols. Utrecht 1795-1822, with
the splendid Latin transl. by H. GRorius. — Separate studies: J. GEEECKEN, Leoni-
das von Tarent. Leipz. 1896. AUG. OBHLER, Der Kranz des Meleagros. Berl. 1920
(bilingual). G. tuck, ‘Die Dichterinnen der griech. Anthologie’. Mus. Helv. 11,
1954, 170. A. S. F. GOW, ‘Leonidas of Tarentum’. Class. Quart. 8, 1958, 113. Id.,
The Greek Anthology. Sources and Ascriptions. Publ. by the Society for the
Promotion of Hell. Studies. London 1958. c. GAtLaAvorti, ‘Planudea (II)’.
Accad. d. Lincei. Comitato per la preparazione della Edizione Nazionale. N. Ser. fasc.
8, 1960, 11. — Transl. into English verse with Greek text: Leonidas: £. BEVAN,
Oxf. 1931. Callimachus: Gc. M. younc, Oxf. 1934. Asclepiades: w. and M.
WALLACE, Oxf. 1941. A useful selection from inscriptions and texts in J. GEFF-
CKEN, Gr. Epigramme. Heidelb. 1916. F. L. Lucas, A Greek Garland. A Selection
from the Anth. Pal. 2nd ed. Lond. 1949. Other material in Beckby (v. supra).

6 DRAMA
In the Hellenistic age comedies and tragedies were also written in large numbers,
but there were local variations of emphasis. The flourishing of New Comedy in
Athens has been discussed; it must be considered the exception that one of the
poets of this genre, Machon of Sicyon or Corinth, worked in Alexandria. It is
different with tragedy. Although at this time there were also tragic poets in
Athens, like Astydamas, whom we add as the third in a family of tragedians
(v. p. 243) to bear this name, the centre of this poetry was not Athens, but
Alexandria. Philadelphus, the great patron of the Dionysian arts, who made the
actors’ guild (of epi tov Aidvucoy texvirar) take part in the famous gigantic
procession,! organized dramatic contests in Alexandria and attracted a circle of
poets to his city from whom a Pleiad was selected after the model of the classical
canons. The following names appear to be definitive: Alexander Aetolus,
Lycophron of Chalcis, Homer of Byzantium, the son of the poetess Moero,?
Philicus of Corcyra, whom we shall meet later as the composer of a hymn to
Demeter, and Sositheus, probably from the Troad.* Sosiphanes, Aeantiades,
Dionysiades, who also wrote character-sketches of the comic poets, and Euphron-
ius appear alternatively in various lists. In addition to these names there are
another fifty from notices and inscriptions; we must not, of course, think that
1 Cf. Gow in the comm. on Theocritus 17, 112.
2 Fragments of a hexameter poem Mnemosyne and of elegies (these also fasc. 6, 69 D.),
further mention of a hymn to Poseidon and of maledictory poetry in J. U. POWELL, Coll.
Alex. Oxf. 1925, 21. The same on the name: Moero or Myro?
3 Alexander and Sositheus are missing in Tzetze’s introduction to the Lycophron scholia
in which a Pleiad of poets of various genres is given.
743
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

all of these were connected with Alexandria; a large number came from all over
the Greek world.
Out of all this profusion a total of nine fragments with twenty-two lines has
been preserved. If Moschion, whose date is uncertain (v. p. 632), is put in the
third century, the number indicated is slightly higher. Does this wholesale loss
mean that these works were of little value? This much can be stated at any rate
that we have not the least reason to think that any of them were great achieve-
ments. The titles present roughly the same picture as in the fourth century. The
old groups of subjects also supply themes for the present time, but there are also
new, far-fetched ones. Of the many unusual titles we only mention the Adonis
of Philicus and of Ptolemy Philopator himself. Dionysius I had preceded him
with the dramatization of this theme (v. p. 632). Historical drama, such as, for
instance, Philicus’ Themistocles, was also written, and themes were even borrowed
from contemporary history, like the Cassandreis by Lycophron. It would be
interesting if we could ascertain to what extent the Latin Praetexta linked up
with these.
Two of the poets mentioned in connection with the Pleiad demand further
discussion. Alexander Aetolus, so called after his native land, worked at the
court of Gonatas and in Alexandria. There he arranged the standard texts of
tragedies and satyr plays. Remnants of epyllia (Halyeus, Circa, doubted in
Athen. 7. 283 a) and of elegies (Apollo, Musae)' have been preserved. Earlier
(p. 412) it was conjectured that the subject of the Apollo is related to Agathon’s
Antheus.
Lycophron of Chalcis also came to Alexandria in the time of its great literature
under Philadelphus. In the library he was in charge of comedy, the fruit of
which work was a bulky volume Hepi ckwuwéditas. His dramas, of which we
already mentioned the Cassandreis with a subject from contemporary history,
offer an opportunity to discuss the revival of the satyr play in this time. Some
lines of the Menedemus have been preserved. This satyr play apparently subjected
the philosopher from Eretria to some friendly chaff.* An epigram of Dioscorides
(Anth. Pal. 7. 707) celebrates Sositheus as the renewer of the genuine old satyr
play of Doric stamp; Sositheus was also a member of the Pleiad. His Daphnis or
Lityerses dealt with the liberation of Daphnis, as far as we can make out, and the
killing of the monster Lityerses; it was a mythological play with some new
characters.
What is probably the most peculiar product of Alexandrian poetry, the
Alexandra in 1474 iambic trimeters, is from Lycophron’s hand. A messenger
reports the prophecy of Cassandra which proclaims, after the recognition of
Paris (which Euripides presented in his Alexander), the fall of Troy and the
further fortunes of the Greeks. Many allusions in the poem refer to the poet’s
own time; the west was given special attention, for which Timaeus of Tauro-
menium was the main source. Alexander, ‘the lion of the race of Aeacus and
' POWELL, (v. p. 743, n. 2), 121. Fasc. 6, 74 D. The Athenaeus tradition gives Crica.
* On the criticism of the contradictory information wILAMOwITz, Hellenist. Dichtung 2
Berl. 1924, 2nd unaltered ed. 1961, 143. I. p
744
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

Dardanus’ (1440), will finish the struggle between east and west. The most
difficult passage (1446) promises that after the sixth generation a man of
Cassandra's blood will fight the wolf of Gadara (personification of Macedon?),
but will then be reconciled with him and share in the plunder. Wilamowitz’
expedient! that Cassandra speaks at this moment only of a future which goes
beyond the poet’s time, is a desperate one, but none better has yet been found.
On the other hand, it is clear that the part played by Rome’s early history (1226)
is proof of the impression which its rise made in the realm of the Ptolemies.
Riddling speech (ypup@Ses) had been customary in oracles from times
immemorial, but profane poetry also had a predilection for it.2 The techno-
paegnia already showed us the delight found in this kind of thing in the Hellen-
istic age. Lycophron outdid them all with his diction which makes a point of
avoiding calling a spade a spade, operates with a host of unusual words partly
found only in his work and conceals a vast store of scholarly knowledge behind
subtly confusing appellations. Such poetry was meant exclusively for the
entertainment of men of wide reading. It is not, of course, a tragedy, but nothing
is gained by calling it an iambus. It is simply a tragic fictional messenger speech,
which also in many a tragedy of Euripides’ is a part which could stand on its
own. It is understandable that in the presence of so much erudition there is little
room for poetry. The Alexandra is mainly important for its mythological con-
tents. The scholia are a great help in its interpretation; their older stratum goes
back to Theon (under Tiberius), while an elaborate compilation of Isaac
Tzetzes’ was given its final revision by his brother Ioannes.
For Hellenistic tragedy two texts can be made serviceable, although both with
considerable reservations. In Book 9 of his Praeparatio Evangelica Eusebius pre-
served from the work On the Jews by Alexander Polyhistor (first century B.C.)
269 trimeters of the Exagoge by Ezechiel, who is mentioned by Clemens
(Stromat. 1. 23) as a writer of Jewish tragedies. In this Mosaic drama of the
second century B.C. various episodes of the Jews’ exodus from Egypt, chrono-
logically far apart, had been brought together. This was made possible through
a shifting of the scene, as we can ascertain in two cases. It was possibly divided
into five acts and limited to three actors. Both these facts correspond with
Horace’s Ars Poetica (189. 192); there is, of course, generally a good basis for
the assumption that in Horace there are important elements of the Hellenistic
theory of art.? The fragments give no indication that a chorus is used in the
Exagoge, but the Ars Poetica and Latin tragedy favour the assumption that it was

1 yp, prev. note, 146.

2 Good enquiry by INGRID WAERN, I's éorea, The Kenning in Pre-Christian poetry.
Uppsala 1951.
3 £. BURCK in the epilogue to Kiessling-Heinze’s edition of the Epistolae, Berl. 1957, 401
gives information on the related problems of how much earlier Neoptolemus is and whether
Horace has Hellenistic or contemporary poetry in mind. K. ZIEGLER (v. inf.), 1972 makes
great advances in the utilization of the Ars Poetica for Hellenistic drama. The careful con-
sideration of the art of characterization which, in contrast to Aristotle, is stressed rather than
the construction of the plot may indeed correspond with facets of Hellenistic drama in-
fluenced by rhetoric.
745
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

also usual on the Hellenistic stage. Its task can hardly have been more than
filling up the interval between acts. In view of the paucity of material available,
the Exagoge is valuable — also linguistically, since in spite of its poor quality the
verse reveals that Euripides is its model — but it must be borne in mind that it
was written by a non-Greek and that it is doubtful whether it warrants any
conclusions about the general picture of contemporary tragedy.
In 1950 E. Lobel' published a papyrus from Oxyrhynchus (end second or
beginning of third century a.p.) with the remnants of three columns; the middle
one contained sixteen trimeters, in a fair state of preservation, of a Gyges drama.
From the queen’s speech about the events in the bedroom it is clear that Herod-
otus was closely followed. On the grounds of the archaic terminology it was
conjectured that the opposite was the case and that the historian followed an
earlier tragedy — by Phrynichus, for instance — but these elements, which occur
side by side with later usage, can be explained from a tendency to archaize,
while the versification also agrees with a later date, probably the third century,
although the fourth must not be ruled out. If we assume that the whole play is
equally dependent on Herodotus, a reconstruction without a change of scenery
is not feasible, and this fits in quite well with what we found out about the
Exagoge.
The development of New Comedy in the work of Menander, Philemon and
Diphilus had made it into a genre of literature which could no longer satisfy the
thirst for a variety of subjects of a wide audience in the Hellenistic cities, or
provide sufficient food for their delight in shock-effects and coarse humour. The
mime, the realistic portrayal of the actuality of everyday life, could do this in a
different way. We can trace its beginning a long way back (v. p. 235 f.);? the
form which Sophron gave it was mentioned on p. 240. In the Hellenistic age we
must already reckon with an extensive development and differentiation of such
mimetic presentations. They took the form of songs or the spoken word, prose
and verse, monologue or scenic performance. It is difficult to separate the large
number of descriptions; there is, however, a good case for assuming that
hilarody or simody meant a more measured type of presentation, while magody
or its close relation lysiody was of a lasciviously humorous nature, although the
boundaries were probably not too rigid. We have an excellent example of a
mime sung by a soloist in a papyrus of the second century B.c. with the Maiden’s
Complaint.$ In agitated rhythms, mainly dochmiac, a girl who has been cast off
by her lover after a quarrel is complaining in front of his door. According to
i Aa Greek Historical Drama.’ Proc. Brit. Ac. 35, 1949, 207; now Ox. Pap. 23, 1956,
no. 2382. Further bibl. in AfdA 5, 1952, 152 and 7, 1954, 150 and in A. kB. RAUBITSCHEK,
Class. Weekly 48, 1955, 48. Id. ‘Die schamlose Ehefrau’. Rhein. Mus. 100, 1957, 139.
E. BICKEL, ‘Rekonstruktionsversuch einer hellenist. Gyges-Nysia-Tragédie’. Rhein. Mus.
100, 1957, I4I.
2B. wst, RE 15, 1932, 1730 ft. has taken great pains to separate all sorts of actors and
dancers of folk-lore such as the deikeliktai, ithyphalloi, phallophoroi, phylakes, autokabdaloi
from the mime. But such a separation should not be too schematic, but admit that, although
the groups mentioned cannot be classified with the mime, all this folk-lore contained ele-
ments of the mime.
3 Easily accessible in POWELL (v. p. 743 n. 2), 177, who quotes related fragments.,
746
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

the theme this song, which is not without some power of passionate expression,
is a paraclausithyron such as is otherwise sung by the male lover in front of the
closed door. F. Leo’s attempt! to link this type of song with Plautus’ cantica
has had no success.
The song, which was written on a temple door in Marissa (between Jerusalem
and Gaza) in the middle of the second century B.c., is remarkable. A hetaera is
conversing with a lover, who has been locked out, in a dialogue which was
probably sung as a solo. The ditty and the locality where it was found bear out
Athenaeus’ statement (15. 697 b) that all Phoenicia was full of such songs. He
described such light fare as Locrian and at the same time transmits the little
aubade mentioned earlier (p. 108). Besides the descriptions of solo mimetic
songs there is a series of expressions, such as mimologoi, ethologoi, biologoi,
which indicate the spoken word in verse or prose. Names like ionicologoi and
cinaidologoi show that they were Ionic in form and lewd in contents. Athenaeus
mentions (14. 620 e) a number of poets of this genre, among them to our
surprise Alexander Aetolus, who must have been very versatile. Next to names
like Pyres of Miletus and Alexas the best-known is Sotades of Maronea.? He
also levelled his impudent wit at Philadelphus and his marriage to his sister, for
which he was punished by death at the hands of the king’s nesiarch in Caunus.
Suidas lists a large number of titles such as Descent into Hades, Priapus, in which
connection we remember that this god of the district of Lampsacus on the
Hellespont was gaining widespread popularity at this time as a hyperithyphallic
garden god. He was permitted to appear in the festival procession beside Alex-
ander and Ptolemy and inspired a special genre of poetry in the Priapea, the
metre of which was created by Euphronius of Chersonnese. Other titles are To
Belestiche (Philadelphus’ mistress) and Amazon. The other ones in Suidas belong
to the comic poet of the same name. The cinaedologue survives in some scanty
fragments of a Poem to Theodorus, an Iliad and an Adonis. His name also lives
on in the Sotadeum, a variation of the Ionic hexameter which he used stichically
for spoken verse. The aphorisms (Sotadea) preserved by Stobaeus, must pre-
sumably be rated with those collections which, enriched with forgeries, appear
under the names of Epicharmus and Menander (v. p. 239).
Plutarch (Quaest. conv. 7. 4. 712 e) mentions the division of mimes into
paegnia and hypotheses, which we can only render imperfectly as ‘toys’ and
‘plots’. The first term probably denotes solo performances. We refer here to the
Mimiambi of Herodas,3 a poet of whom we knew little more than his name until

t Die plaut. Cantica und die hellenist. Lyrik. Abh. Gott. Ges. N.F. 1/7, 1897.
2 Fragments in POWELL (Vv. p. 743, n. 2), 238. Fasc. 6, 186 D. E. DIEHL’s conjecture (Anth.
Lyr. Suppl. 66) that c. A. GERHARD, Gr. Pap. Diss. Heidelberg 1938, no. 179, was from
Sotades’ epigrams, was refuted by 3 new fragments in BE. SIEGMANN, Lit. gr. Texte der
Heidelb. Pap. Samml. Heidelb. 1956, no. 190. They are fragments of satyrical prose, whose
origin it is difficult to assess. H. LLOYD-JONES, Gnom. 29, 1957, 427 thinks that it was a
manual of rhetoric.
3 Herondas in Athen. 3, 86 b, Herodas in Stobaeus’ quotations and Plin. ep. 4, 3, 4
(Herodes). The various versions were no doubt used at the same time; forms in -ondas are
found in Boeotian, while in Cos the v was probably not pronounced.
747
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

a find in the year 1890 produced a roll with a considerable portion of his poems
(no. 359 P.). Since Cos is definitely the background of two iambic mimes (2 and
4), we may assume a fairly close connection of the poet with the island whose
intellectual life was mentioned in relation with Theocritus. It is unknown
whether Herodas was born there. The securest support for his date is the
reference to the shrine of the sister goddesses (1. 30), which gives us a period
after 270; since furthermore it is most likely that the “good king’ in the same
verse is Euergetes! we can limit the date to within his reign (246-221). To a
certain extent the literary ancestors of these realistic miniature dramas with
their relentlessly sharp focus are the mimes of Sophron’s genre; but Herodas did
not write prose, he appropriated Hipponax’s choliambs, whom he also followed
in the Ionic coloration of his diction. Within this traditional framework,
however, it was still quite possible to achieve a very lifelike reality and a genuine
atmosphere of milieu by drawing the characters sharply and by a skilful adapta-
tion of style. His strength lies in the consistently effective use of the realistic
components which mark the Hellenistic era, but his claim to the title of poet is
dubious. The contents of these Mimiambi is as varied as life itself: the procuress
who entices an honourable woman when she is a grass-widow; the greedy
brothel-keeper, who in court tries to make capital out of an attack on his house;
the schoolmaster who flogs a rascal at his mother’s urging; women at sacrifice
who admire the statues in the shrine of Asclepius of Cos (we are reminded of
Theocritus’ Adoniazusae); the cruel sport of a depraved woman with the slave
who has let her have her will of him and almost meets his death through her
jealousy; an obscenely lewd conversation between two women friends; a visit
to a shoe shop and the haggling over a bargain. Mimiambus 8, The Dream, is
unfortunately in such a bad state of preservation that only guesses can be made
by way of restoration.” This is regrettable since in this poem the poet defended
his own work against others. Of a few other Mimiambi only fragments have been
preserved which do not give any clue of what they were about.
The idea of scenic performances of these Mimiambi has long since been
abandoned; they probably were not meant to be merely read either, and so they
were probably recited by a speaker who personified the various characters by
means of skilfully executed nuances.
The question whether scenic performances of mimes with a continuous plot,
such as were prevalent during the empire, already occurred during the peak of
the Hellenistic era would have to go unanswered, were it not for an unpretentious
object, a terracotta lamp from Athens (third century B.c.), which shows three
actors and bears the legend: “Mimologoi. Hypothesis: The mother-in-law.’ It
must be assumed that plays without masks, in which actresses appeared, were
staged as carly as this period. There must have been a great deal of improvisation,
for they simply took a subject from a successful comedy and gave an extempore
' Correctly WILAMOWITZ, Hellenist. Dichtung 2. Berl. 1924; 2nd unaltered ed. 1962, 318.
7 O. CRUSIUS and R. HERZOG, ‘Der Traum des H.’. Phil. 79, 1924, 370.
> MIMOAQDOL H YMO@EXIZ EIKYPA, Picture in M. BIEBER, The History of the Gr.
and Roman Theatre. Princeton 1939, fig. 290.

748
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

performance with the approved methods, as was obviously done by the mimo-
logoi of Athens. But there is no doubt that there were written ones as well, as we
know from the papyri under the empire. Some of these texts may even go back
to the Hellenistic period. This is certain at least for the dialogue with a drunkard, !
if the chronology of the ostracon in the second/first century is correct. Mention
was made earlier (p. 236) of the phlyaces who have a certain kinship with the
mimes, and of the development of their plays which resulted in the Hilaro-
tragodia of Rhinthon of Syracuse in 300. Titles like Heracles, Iphigenia in Aulis
and in Tauris, Medea and Orestes reveal that he was fond of borrowing from
Euripides for his travesties of the myths, additional evidence for the latter’s
popularity in the Hellenistic age. Such plays were also performed in Alexandria,
where Sopater of Paphus wrote dramatic parodies.
Although there is some affinity, the mime must be considered as a genre
different from the pantomime,? in which a richly instrumented orchestra and a
choir accompanied a single dancer; all he did was to represent by his movements
(he wore a mask) the various characters of fables which were usually derived
from the myths. The pantomime flourished during the empire. Its artists were
the object of abuses to which parallels can be easily found. The notion that the
Cilician Pylades was the creator of the pantomime in the Augustan era is
stubbornly passed on, but as long ago as 19303 L. Roberts proved from epi-
graphical sources on the representation of tragic subjects through rhythmical
movements that this kind of art can already be identified in Asia in the first half
of the first century B.c.

Hellenistic tragedy: F. SCHRAMM, Tragicorum Graec. hellenisticae quae dicitur

aetatis fragmenta etc. Diss. Munster 1931. K. ZIEGLER, RE 6 A 1937, 1967. V.
STEFFEN, Quaest. trag. capita tria. Poznari 1939. P. VENINI, ‘Note sulla trag.
ellenistica’. Dioniso 16, 1953, 3 — Lycophron: c. v. HOLZINGER, L.s Alexandra.
Leipz. 1895 (with transl. and comm.). Because of paraphrases, scholia and index
E. SCHEER’S edition in 2 vols. Berl. 1881 and 1908 is still important. Together
with Callimachus, Lycophron was published in the bilingual edition of the
Loeb Class. Libr. A. W. MAIR, 1921. Translation by c. w. MoONEY, The Al. of L.
Lond. 1921. L. MASCALIANO. L. Alejandra. Barcelona 1956 (with Span. transl.
and bibl.). st. yostrovié, Lykophron-Studien. Jahrbuch d. phil. Fak. Novi Sad 2,
1957, 199. —J. WIENEKE, Ezechielis Judaei poetae Alexandrini fabulae quae inscribitur
"Eéaywy7 fragmenta. Miinster 1931. The text now in the edition of the Praep.
Ev. of Eusebius by x. MraS 1, Berl. 1954. — For the mime the scholarly but
problematical work by H. REICH, Der Mimos, 1. Berl. 1903 must still be taken into
account. Also gz. wiist, RE 15, 1932, 1727. A. OLIVIERI, Framm. della comm. greca
e del mimo nella Sicilia e nella Magna Grecia. 2: Framm. della comm. fliacica, 2nd ed.
1 POWELL (pv. p. 743, N. 2), 181. D. L. PAGE, Greek Lit. Pap. Lond. 1950, no. 74, p. 332.
hoVv. ROTOLO, II pantomimo. Studi e testi. Palermo 1957.
3 Herm. 65, 1930, 106.
2B 749
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Naples 1947. — Herodas: 0. crusius, sth ed. Leipz. 1914 (with related texts).
Bilingual after Crusius with preface and notes. R. HERZOG, Leipz. 1926. W.
HEADLAM and A. D. KNOX, Cambr. 1922 (with copious explanatory material);
Knox also inserted Herodas in the bilingual ed. of the Choliambics Loeb Class.
Lib. 1929. J. A. NAIRN et L. LALOY, Coll. des Un. de Fr. 1928, repr. 1960. QU.
CATAUDELLA, Milan 1948 (with transl.). c. puCCIONI, Florence 1950 (with
comm.).

yf QVAW SNE POETRY

In the preceding sections a number of names were mentioned, but there remains
a great deal to be added to round off the picture.
Firstly, one more genre, the didactic poem, must be added to the ones which
have been discussed, even if Aristotle (Poet. 1, 1447 b 16), who called Empedocles
its representative, was not prepared to allot it a position in the realm of poetry.
To a certain extent the ancients were justified in feeling that Hesiod was the
creator of this genre, although to describe the Days and Works as a didactic
poem does not cover everything and basically not much at all. Didactic poetry
was written before the Hellenistic age; Euenus of Paros wrote his rules of
rhetoric in verse (v. p. 357), but the Hellenistic Greeks were particularly devoted
to it. We may assume in cases like Euenus that verse was chosen because it was
more easily memorized, but now the contrast between erudition and artistic
form gave special pleasure.
The most significant example and one of the most successful poems of
antiquity was written by Aratus of Cilician Soloe, the city which sent Chrysippus
the Stoic to Athens. It would be frivolous to attempt to indicate the dates of
Aratus’ birth and death, as Wilamowitz! correctly observed. We must be
satisfied with fixing some important stages in his life. Reservation must be
observed with regard both to the four detailed biographies and the spurious
letters. Aratus went to Athens as a young man and there joined the Stoics. One
of his close friends was Dionysius of Heraclea, who after his change-over from
the Stoa to Hedonism was called 6 pwerabewevos (cf. p. 674). In the biographical
tradition he appears now as Aratus’ teacher, then again as his pupil in astronomy.
Firm support is given by the information that Aratus was called to Pella to
Antigonus Gonatas’ court (276-239), whose Stoic sentiments must have in-
fluenced this choice. His Phaenomena was probably written in Macedon at the
urging of Antigonus. We may also believe that he spent some time with
Antiochus I of Syria, for Vita II appeals for this fact to Dositheus of Pelusium
who workedin Alexandria as an astronomer together with and after Conon.
Antigonus of Carystus seems to be responsible for the information that he
edited the Iliad in that city.3
Cicero (De Orat. 1. 69) records his firm opinion that Aratus, the author of
such excellent verses about the stars, was a homo ignarus astrologiae. What we
% ae ee section on Aratus in his Hellenist. Dichtung 2, Berlin 1924, 2nd unaltered

2 Cf. MARTIN, Hist. (v. inf.), 165. 3 MARTIN (v. sup.), 175.
750
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
know of his literary work shows that it covered a great variety of subjects. So
much can at least be ascertained, although the details in Suidas and the Vitae
contain contradictions and obscurities enough.'! A Hymn to Pan was written for
the wedding of Antigonus Gonatas to Phile, and the god must have appeared
in a Stoic interpretation for which his name offered plenty of scope. We know
further of Epicedea to friends, and of one to his brother Myris; of poems on
medical subjects (was the Ostologia part of the Jatrica?) and of a collection of
trifles under the title of Kata Aewrov which occur in the Appendix Vergiliana.
We already heard of his philological activity with regard to Homer.
All this is lost; the only surviving poem is the one which kept Aratus’ name
alive even in ages which had little knowledge of Greek lore. He was by no
means the first to undertake the teaching of astronomy by means of a poem. It
is difficult to date Cleostratus of Tenedos, but it is quite likely that he wrote
poems on the constellations before Eudoxus. An epigram of Ptolemy Euergetes’
recognizes Aratus’ precedence over the astronomical poets Hegesianax and
Hermippus (fasc. 6. 93 D). The tradition enables us to compile whole lists of
authors in this field;? there can be little doubt that the belief in the divine nature
of the stars which we saw advancing from the fourth century onward, and the
pseudo-scientific system of astrology developed in the Hellenistic age, con-
tributed to literature of this nature.
Suidas mentions Menecrates of Ephesus, Menedemus and Timon as teachers
of Aratus. For the last two this only implies that Aratus had friendly relations with
them; Menecrates’ didactic poems Erga and Apiculture (MeAvcooupytKd.) may
also have given rise to this conjecture, but he could possibly have preceded and
influenced Aratus.
The great success of the Phaenomena with its 1154 hexameters doomed all
other poetry of this nature to oblivion; this
is mainly due to Aratus’ unique
sense of form. His verse, constructed with less strictness than Callimachus’,
presents the subject intelligibly with its smooth flow, at the same time main-
taining a certain loftiness. Callimachus’ epigram’ in praise of the Hesiodic
element in the Phaenomena aptly identified its stylistic ancestor.
It was well known to experts in antiquity that Aratus was largely dependent
for his subject on two works by Eudoxus, the Phaenomena and the Enoptron.
Hipparchus proves this emphatically in his Commentary on Aratus and Eudoxus
(Tév ’Apdrov Kai Evdogou Dawopevwn eEnyjoes, 3 books*), since he had
to protest against a tradition which was unwilling to acknowledge this in
favour of Aratus. But Aratus’ modest specialist knowledge also imposed strict
limits on his use of Eudoxus; he does not venture to enlarge on the planets or on
the appellation of the celestial spheres.’ On the other hand, he only rarely brings
1 Discussed very judiciously by MARTIN (v. sup.), 177. 2 MARTIN (v. sup.), 182, 184.
3 27= Anth. Pal. 9. 507. On its interpretation B. A. VAN GRONINGEN, La Poésie verbale
grecque. Nederl. Akad. Afd. Letterk. N.R. 16, 4, 1953, 248 and H. HERTER, Gnom. 27, 1955,
256, I. + Edition K. MANITIUS, Leipz. 1894 (with Germ. transl.).
5 On Aratus’ conception of the firmament: R. BOKER, Die Entstehung der Sternsphare Arats.
Sachs. Akad. Math. -natw.K1. 99/5, 1952. Boker raises valid objections against the assump-
tion that Eudoxus was Aratus’ main source.
751
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

in the myths to account for the constellations; others soon completely rectified
this omission.! That is why large sections of the Phaenomena are rather dull
reading and why we feel stirred by the poet in some passages only. This happens
first of all in the opening with the hymn-like praise of Zeus. We recognize 1n
him the universal god of the Stoics; in the utterance that man is of his race we
hear Cleanthes, who used the same phrase? in his Hymn to Zeus (v. 4).
The fine section on the constellation of Virgo (96-136) is largely inspired by
Hesiod’s genius and subject matter. Aratus interprets her as Dike, the goddess of
justice who in a previous age left the earth full of loathing and now lives among
the stars. The passage which, after the conclusion of the description of the
stars, passes over to the second part of the poem (758-772), also attests the
poet’s profound faith in the sway of divine wisdom in the universe.
The final part of the poem deals with meteorology; it is very similar to the
treatise on this subject (Ilept onjetwy)3 transmitted under Theophrastus’ name,
a collection of excerpts of the Alexandrian era which goes back, with Aratus,
to a common source, possibly a book by Theophrastus.
Mention was made before of the tremendous success of the Phaenomena, of
the praise bestowed on it by Callimachus and Ptolemy Euergetes. Leonidas of
Tarentum (Anth. Pal. 9. 25) joined in the chorus of admirers with an epigram.
We have fragments of a translation by Cicero; the translations of Germanicus
and Avienus have been preserved; there is also one in barbarous Latin of the
seventh century; Varro of Atax used the work at least for his meteorology. In
some Vatican manuscripts (Gr. 191 and 381) there are registers of authors who
wrote about Aratus. The number of twenty-seven commentators gives an
impression of the whole literature. Some of these were of a polemical nature
like the commentary of Hipparchus, who was mentioned earlier. We know
numerous names; interpretations of Achilleus and Leontius have been trans-
mitted and there are also numerous scholia.
A poem of 169 iambic trimeters ("EpzredoxAgous aAavdv dotpwv ofaipa)
with a description of the constellations in the manner of Aratus* has been
fraudulently attributed to Empedocles, which shows how great the influence of
the Phaenomena was. About 60 b.c. Alexander of Ephesus, nicknamed Lychnos,
wrote astronomical and geographical didactic poems, of which large fragments
survive describing the harmony of the spheres.5 This probably includes him
among the imitators of Eratosthenes’ Hermes, which will be discussed presently.
However bad the state of preservation of Hellenistic literature may be, there
is no cause for complaint about the transmission of didactic poetry. Colophon,
which from Mimnermus onward gave many a poet to Greek literature, was the
* Contemporary narrative of Greek legends of the stars by w. sSCHADEWALDT (Fischer
Biicherei 1956).
2 Aratus’ notion is quoted in Paul’s speech at the Areopagus, Acts 17, 28.
3 On this O. REGENBOGEN, RE S 7, 1940, 1412. A papyrus of the 2nd century B.c. (no.
1574 P.) contains fragments of a treatise on weather indications.
4 The tradition in J. MARTIN (v. inf.), 219.
SaChawe BURKERT, Phil. 105, 1961, 32, with bibl. on Alexander of Ephesus and on the
attempts to link the distances separating the constellations and certain musical theories
752
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
native city of Nicander. For his life we have, apart from some notices and the
article in Suidas,' a biography in the scholia, but we are faced with a confusion
which makes it hardly possible to come to any definite conclusions. In the first
place the biography gives his father’s name as Damacus, whereas Suidas calls
him Xenophanes. Has the old Xenophanes of Colophon come into the picture?
What is worse is that our material does not permit a precise dating of his life.
We have in the biography the positive information that Nicander devoted a
hymn (fr. 104) to Attalus III of Pergamum (138-133), but other notices claim
that he was a contemporary of Callimachus’, while others again produce 200 as
a date. With Gow we accept the facts of the biography; the date of Nicander’s
floruit in the middle of the second century is the most likely. He is at least later
than Numenius of Heraclea, who wrote in the middle of the third century and
who has a certain affinity with Nicander as author of Theriaca, Halieutica and a
Deipnon.? Our chronology shows that we do not identify the epic poet Nicander
of Colophon, the son of a certain Anaxagoras, who is honoured in a Delphic
inscription’ of the middle or the second half of the third century, with the
writer of the didactic poems preserved. He may have been an ancestor, probably
his grandfather. It is very likely that Nicander occupied an hereditary priesthood
in the shrine of Apollo of Claros near Colophon, considerable parts of which
have been revealed by recent French excavations. The biography mentions that
he spent a long time in Aetolia; this would be acceptable if we could assume that
the Aetolica (fr. 1-8) is the work of this Nicander. Apparently it was written in
prose; quotations of hexameters from it are references rather than evidence of a
mixed form. In this case as with many other writings under the name of
Nicander the question crops up whether we should not assume that the older
bearer of this name was the author.
Two hexameter poems have been transmitted, the Theriaca (958 lines) on
remedies against the bite of poisonous animals, and the Alexipharmaca (630 lines)
on aid in cases of food poisoning. Nicander is no more expert in his subject than
Aratus in astronomy. His basis was the works of Apollodorus, who wrote in
Alexandria on vegetable and animal poisons in the beginning of the third
century. This sort of poetry was not so much concerned with the subject itself
or the expansion of knowledge, but with the artistic representation of out-of-
the-way learning in an exquisite form. The acrostic with his name (Ther. 345 ff.)
is also characteristic of this tendency. It is obvious that Nicander took great
pains over his writing, although not to its profit. His language is overloaded
with curious glosses and difficult technical terms; these elements are not blended
into true poetry, so that much of it is quite pedestrian.
Of the lost works the Heteroeumena is interesting. In five books he narrated
legendary metamorphoses such as had occurred in the Greek myths from time
immemorial, but which were now compiled in the form ofa poetic collection.
This form already appears in Hesiod’s catalogue poetry (v. p. 103 f.), but whereas
t Conveniently accessible in Gow’s edition, p. 3.
2 Dependence on Numenius: Schol. Ther. 237. 7
3 DITTENBERGER, Syll. 3rd ed. 452; bibl. on the chronology in Gow’s edition, p. 6.
133
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

his principle of composition was a simple succession of stories, we find in the

Hellenistic age a tendency towards artificial linkage and animating variety.
Callimachus’ Aetia already points in this direction and Ovid's Metamorphoses
shows the perfection of this poetry in Latin. The remnants suggest that Nicander
was a dull story-teller, but the excerpts which Antoninus Liberalis gives in his
Collection of Metamorphoses indicate that he tried to link the individual stories
by means of ingenious devices." In the same Antoninus there is repeated mention
of a poem evidently related to it, an Ornithogonia, which recounted transforma-
tions into birds; the author’s name was Boeo or Boeus.
Through Athenaeus we have some fairly large fragments of the Georgica. It
was often thought that the book about bees, the Melissurgica, used to be part of
this, but it is worth while considering that Athenaeus gives only one reference
(2. 68 c) under this title, but not a few others under that of the Georgica. These
are mainly concerned with botanical matters and the vegetable garden, but this
may have been due to Athenaeus’ interests. The narrow didacticism which is
also evident in this work is far removed from the incomparable ethos in which
Virgil wrote his poem.
We have many more titles. The Versification of the Hippocratic Prognostica
(lpoyypworexa 50° é@v) must have been genuine Nicander. The Collection of
Remedies (lacewy ovvaywyy) was probably also in verse, although some
doubt remains, just as in the case of the Colophoniaca. The Aetolica must have
been written in prose, while the references to the Oetaica, Thebaica, Sicelia and
Europia indicate that they were in verse. Because of the affinity of its subject
matter to the poems preserved we mention the Ophiaca, although we are quite
in the dark about its contents. Collecting glosses was part of Nicander’s business.
In this connection mention must be made of a curious piece in hexameters
preserved in a Viennese papyrus (Pap. Graec. Vind. 29801=No. 1410 P.).
Silenus mocks Pan, who has had his flute stolen by the Satyrs. The god is
supposed to play at a Dionysian festival, makes himself a new instrument and
tests it. It is difficult to be precise about its date and genre. Oellacher’s attempt?
to prove Nicander’s authorship (possibly Melissurgica) has not been successful;
he argues that it was written in the Hellenistic period, whilst Keydell relegates
it to the empire; the latter also conjectures that the epic poet Nestor of Laranda
(under Septimius Severus) could have been the author.
In connection with Nicander’s didactic poem we mention Callimachus’ pupil
Philostephanus of Cyrene, who wrote, besides numerous historical, geographical

' On the poetic medley: E. MARTINI, ‘Ovid und seine Bedeutung fiir die rém. Poesie’,
Epitymbion H. Swoboda. Reichenberg 1927, 165. On Anton. Lib. cf. also MARTINY’s ed.
Leipz. 1896 and BE. CAZZANIGA. Ant. Lib. Metapopddcewy auvaywyn. Testi e documenti per
lo studio dell’ antichita 3. Milan-Varese (in prep.). GoW, ed. p. 206 advises caution. Orinthogonia:
POWELL, Coll. Alex. Oxf. 1925, 24.
* Ilav ovpifev, Studi It. N.S. 18, 1941, 113. Id. ‘Der Pap. Graec. Vind. 29801. Handlung
und lit. Einordnung’. Mnem. S. 3, 12, 1944, I. D. L. PAGE, Lit. Pap. Lond. 1950, 502, also
holds that it is a Hellenistic poem; he appeals to COLLART. £. HEITSCH, Die griech. Dichterfrag-
mente der rom. Kaiserzeit. Abh. Ak. Gétt. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1961, 10, 1 resolutely defends KEYDELL’S
dating in the empire. Bibl. in HETTSCH, 55.
754
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

and mythological works of a purely learned character, a poem in distichs On

Curious Rivers (Ilept mapadcfwv rorapyev). In his choice of subject matter he
probably followed his teacher, whose work On the Rivers of the World we
mentioned earlier (p. 704). Towards the end of the second century a periegesis
in iambic verse of the coasts of Europe and the Black Sea was written,! which
was irresponsibly attributed to Scymnus of Chios. This author, who wrote a
periegetical description of the three continents (Europe, Asia and Libya) is
dated by a Delphic inscription of the year 185/184.2 He did not, however,
write the iambic poem mentioned, which is now usually referred to as the
Pseudo-Scymnus.
Didactic poems written by Eratosthenes and Apollodorus of Athens will be
discussed together with the other work of these scholars.
A few more titles and names complete the picture of Hellenistic catalogue-
poetry. Phanocles, for whom we cannot give a precise date, sang of love for
beautiful boys in his *Epwres 7) xaAoi in elegiac metre. The story of Orpheus
and Calais has been preserved in Stobaeus.3 The love theme served as a prop for
the narrative of the singer’s death and the voyage of his head, and also to give
an aetion for the tattooing of Thracian women. The stories were connected
with the words ‘or as’ (7) cbs). Nicaenetus of Samos also wrote* his Catalogue of
Women (KatdAoyos yvvaik@v) in imitation of Hesiod’s plain method of con-
necting stories. He probably lived in the second century; for Sosicrates or
Sostratus of Phanagorea, who reveals Hesiod’s structural principle in the very
title of his Ehoeae, not even an attempt at chronology is possible.
What we know of Hermesianax of Colophon reveals more individual
features. He is supposed to have been close to Philitas, and so he belongs in the
early Hellenistic age. His elegiac poetic medley Leontion owes its title to its
being addressed to his sweetheart of this name, but as in the case of the Lyde by
his compatriot Antimachus, there is nothing to indicate that its theme is personal
emotion. An extensive piece of Book 35 has the character of a catalogue which
enumerates first the poets and then the philosophers vanquished by Eros. He
sports with the tradition by representing Penelope as Homer’s mistress and
Ehoea as Hesiod’s, but there is none of Callimachus’ elegant irony. Excerpts in
Antoninus Liberalis (39) and Parthenius (5) reveal that the Leontion also con-
tained more elaborate elegiac narrative and that the individual parts were
possibly more clearly varied; in the surviving section lines 79-84 between the
catalogue of poets and the one of the philosophers also show his attempt to link
the various sections with more artistry.
A late representative of the poetic medley who passed Hellenistic forms and
themes on to the Romans was Parthenius of Nicaea. During the Third Mith-
ridatic War he came (73) to Rome as a prisoner. He was among the spoils ofa

™ MULLER, Geogr. Gr. min. I, 196. 2 DITTENBERGER, Syll. 3rd ed. no. §85, 197.
3 4, 461 HENSE. POWELL (v. p. 671, n. 4), 106. D. fasc. 6, 71.
+ Lines from an epic poem Lyrcus which, like a poem of Apollonius (v. p. 736) related to
the founding of Caunus, and some epigrams, in POWELL (v. sup.), T.
5 POWELL (v. sup.), 98. D. fasc. 6, 56.
755
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

certain Cinna, probably a Helvius, for the Neoteric Helvius Cinna was greatly
influenced by Parthenius. As a freedman he lived in Rome, then in Naples,
exercising a significant influence on early Latin poetry. His Metamorphoses was
probably written in elegiac metre.’ W. Ehlers’ well-founded arguments have
upset the widespread belief that the Ciris in the Appendix Vergiliana was a
revision of this work.? Various titles and small fragments attest to the great
volume of his work. Apart from mythological poems like a Heracles or Iphiclus
he wrote dirges and occasional poems for friends. Part of the Epicedeum on
Timander was supplied by a London papyrus (no. ros1 P.). A papyrus fragment
(no. 150 P.), ascribed to Parthenius after a prolonged controversy, has given a
clearer notion of his Arete.
It was Parthenius’ purpose to offer his Roman literary friends unusual subject
matter in the easiest possible form. Thus he dedicated to Cornelius Gallus a
collection of Sorrowful Love Stories (Epwtixa mafypata) which has been
preserved. It reveals the characteristics of Hellenistic love poetry in its ten-
dency towards elevated sentiment, vivid dramatization and emotional
appeal. Like Parthenius’ collection, Conon’s (F Gr Hist 26) is also only of
interest to us because of its subject matter. This Diegesis with its fifty legends
is dedicated to Archelaus of Cappadocia, who ruled from 36 B.c. until a.p.
v7
Euphorion of Chalcis was a particularly successful representative of another
poetic form, the epyllion, which was called typically Hellenistic in connection
with Callimachus and of which Theocritus, genuine as well as spurious, and
Moschus, offered us examples. His birth in 276-2753 falls still within the peak of
the Hellenistic civilization, although his work already displays the degeneration
of style developed in the period. He studied in Athens; as far as we know he did
not go to Alexandria, which makes him one of the few contemporary poets
who apparently had no relation of any kind with the Ptolemaic court, but at an
advanced age he was called to the library of Antioch on the Orontes by Antio-
chus II. He also put his poetic talents in the service of palace propaganda.* His
occasionally great success also provoked envy and we read all sorts of gossip
about his ugliness and the questionable life which he was leading. Since he was
extremist in his advocacy of the Hellenistic principles of art he had a strong
influence on the young Romans, and for this reason Cicero aims a blow (Tusc.
3. 45) at this group when he describes them as cantores Euphorionis.
New papyrus finds enable us to form an opinion based on some specimens of

" MARTINI’S objections in the work mentioned (v. p- 754, n. I) (173, 23) against ROHDE
ofter no solution.
* “Die Ciris und ihr Original.’ Mus. Helv. 11, 1954, 65. Fragments of Parthenius in
E. MARTINI, Mythographi Graeci, 2, 1 suppl. Leipz. 1902. Further Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 94 D.;
also suppl. 54 with the Epicedeum on Timander. Arete: R. PFEIFFER. Class. (OH, yh Uy, Dey
A. MEINEKE, Analecta Alexandrina. Berl. 1843, 255 is still indispensable.
3 Suidas gives the 126th Olympiad (276-272) and adds dre Kal I1vppos n7THOn dro ‘Pwpatwv,
SKUTSCH, RE 6, 1907, 1175 records his doubts, which are not convincing.
* Cf. fr. 174 POWELL (Tertull. De An. 46): Seleuco regnum Asiae Laodice mater nondum eum
enixa providit; Euphorion provuleavit.
756
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

his work. In the first place two fragments! came to light in a parchment manu-
script of the fifth century A.p.; one of these describes how Heracles brings
Cerberus to Tiryns. The other is from the Curses or the Man Who Stole a Cup
(Apa 7) LlornpioxAérrns), in which a vast accumulation of mythologic
examples is used to curse some one who has robbed the poet. We should like to
interpret this display as irony, but fear that in this way we would not divine the
learned poet’s meaning. In addition, there are papyrus fragments? with a few
dozen partly very badly preserved lines from the large find which Breccia made
in the Kém of Ali-el-Gammian (cf. p. 265) in 1932. The greater part of the
material preserved belongs to a poem Thrax, which poses a difficult problem by
its concise rendering of various legends. Some of it is quite recondite, such as
the story of Apriate’s flight from Trambelus’ violent wooing and his death at
the hands of Achilles. A note appended to Parthenius 26 proves that this theme
occurs in Euphorion’s Thrax. The conjecture that the poem was written around
this legend as the main theme has proved to be untenable. Since one passage
speaks in the Hesiodic manner of Dike’s inexorable rule and the whole poem
ends with a malediction against the murderer and a wish for a blessing for his
sacrifice, there is much to say for Bartoletti’s assumption that it is a maledictory
poem with mythological examples, like the Arae. We shall leave the question
open whether it was inspired by any concrete cause or was quite fictitious. If
we place Callimachus’ Ibis and Moero’s (v. p. 743, no. 2) Arae next to it, we
receive the impression that his impassioned cursing, which we know in its
primitive condition from the maledictory tablets used in the Hellenistic age, is
a cultivated literary form ornamented with baroque erudition. Euphorion’s
Chiliades seems to have had a similar content.
The Thrax is followed in the papyrus by the Greater Hippomedon, whose
contents remain obscure.3 There is no indication of a connection between the
two poems and we receive no help for the solution of an old problem. Suidas
mentions only three titles, Hesiodus, Mopsopia or Atacta and Chiliades in five
books. The passage seems to be confused and has given rise to many emendations.
But the question still is whether the titles mentioned earlier as well as quite a
few others — among these many mythological ones such as Inachus, Hyacinthus
and Philoctetes — should be considered to refer to parts of the works mentioned
by Suidas or to independent poems. We can only guess which Alexander was
the subject of his poems with this title. Treves+ merely conjectured when he
considered Craterus’ son who ruled in Corinth for a time. In addition to the
poetical works there are scholarly treatises in prose. Titles like On the Aleudae,
On the Isthmian Games show his historical interest which is also evident in the

t No. 268 P.; POWELL (v. p. 671, n. 4), fr. 51 and 9; PAGE, Greek Lit. Pap. Lond. 1950,
488 (with bibl.).
2 No. 269 P. Now excellent study by v. BARTOLETTI in Pap. Soc, It. 14, 1957, no. 1390,
with bibl. With transl. PAGE (v. n. 1), 494. The papyrus is of the 2nd century A.D.
3 p, TREVES, Euforione e la storia ellenistica, Milan 1955, 48, now assumes, after WILAMO-
witz, Berl. Klass. T. 5, 65, 1 (who adds, however, ‘such possibilities are of no help’), that
the poem is called after Ptolemy’s agent in Thrace.
4 vp. foregoing note.
2B2 Worl
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

collective title ‘loropixd srropvipara. It was doubted whether a Hippocratic

Lexicon in six books was a work of this Euphorion; the name is not entirely rare.
The lines which survive do not inspire much grief for what was lost, but they
make it intelligible why this style mixed with glosses and this self-imposed
obscure narrative manner appeared to the adherents of an anti-classical modern
trend to be the authentic embodiment of their principles. The steady shift of
stress from the essential part of the story to far-fetched accessories, the avoidance
of epic sweep and epic fluency, show that Euphorion expressly sought to
contrast Homer and was at the same time an industrious, conscious follower of
Callimachus. His struggle to achieve this can be detected in every line, whereas
the amiable superiority of the Cyrenaean is completely absent. Recently
B. A. van Groningen! has attempted to recognize in Euphorion’s work special
formal value as poésie verbale; he sees in it especially the fulfilment of a direction
in the Hellenistic age which does not try to gain effects through contents and
thought, but through the euphony of choice sound-effects. An opinion on
these effects is purely subjective and this method could hardly lead to a higher
evaluation of this poet who once exerted an influence which was strong even if
short-lived. Nevertheless this presents an opportunity to point out that modern
research into the sound-effects of ancient poetry and speech has long restricted
itself to a hesitant groping. It is different with ancient theories in this field
which, as far as we know, began with Democritus’ Ilepi kaAAoovyns éréwv.
Hlepi dddvwr kat dvoddvwv ypappatwr. According to Aristotle (Rhet. 3, 2.
1405 b 6) the dithyrambic poet and orator Licymnius (v. p. 414) measured the
aesthetic value of a word according to meaning and sound. Dionysius of
Halicarnassus provides the clearest evidence for this tradition.
Some anonymous remnants also bear witness to the predilection of the
Hellenistic age for the epyllion, although it is not always easy to ascribe these
with certainty to a period and genre. A Berlin papyrus? has preserved a long
but badly damaged passage from a Diomedes. The poem seems to form part ofa
cyclical Alcmaeonis; the lines preserved depict in idyllic features the environs of
old Phidon, in whose hut Diomedes has left his little son with Argus. In an
Oxyrhynchus papyrus} an old woman, in whom we should like to recognize a
kinswoman of Callimachus’ Hecale, portrays her poverty in verse. A London
papyrus* contains remnants of a hexameter poem Telephus, which perhaps
belongs to this period, and ten lines in a papyrus in the John Rylands Library’
offer a piece from the oldest version of the legend of Hero and Leander which
has been transmitted in the late poem by Musaeus.
The small fraction of epyllic poetry which we could identify agrees with
what we know of lyric poetry. Of this we also have some odd remnants which
are valuable as evidence of a brisk cultivation of various lyric forms (in the
' Cf. p. 751, n. 3. On Euphorion’s characteristics K. LATTE, Phil. 90, 1935, 1§2.
7 No. 1406 P.; POWELL (v. p. 671, n. 4), 72.
3 No. 1409 P.; POWELL (v. sup.), 78; PAGE (GD AUS, ee eA OSs
* No. 1417 P.; POWELL (v. sup.), 76; PAGE (v. sup.), $34 with date in the late empire.
5 No. 141t P.; PAGE (v. sup.), 512. Other epic remnants in POWELL (v. Ge) Gps Vy las
esp. 89.

758
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
broad meaning of the modern term). Some specimens of elegiac narrative are
still closely related to the hexameter epyllion; Ox. Pap. 1, 14! has remnants of a
description of the golden age, while a Hamburg papyrus? of the third century
B.C. contains the angry speech of a Hellenistic king at the report of an envoy.
Mention is made of Medes and Galatians, but it is not possible to refer this
to a definite historical occurrence. Some papyrus texts,? written in 100 B.C.,
are a very motley compilation; it is preferable to think that they are writing
exercises rather than an anthology. A complaint of Helen in cretics introduces
a theme unattested elsewhere that Menelaus left her after their return from
Troy; a second piece depicts in ionics an early morning in the country,
followed by two erotic paegnia. A Berlin papyrus,* written in the early third
century, combines some scolia in various metres which probably date back to
the fourth century. To emphasize the variety of subjects we refer also to some
anapaests in a Berlin papyrus,’ one passage of which contains praise of Homer,
another an oracle of Cassandra’s.
In our look round in various fields of poetry we must not forget the religious
cults. The fact that for many people the old gods did not have the same meaning
as in the time of the autonomous polis did not do any harm to the continued
existence of the ancient sacrifices and festivals. As before, these provided a
theme and a background for a rich crop of religious poems. The ancient ones
long remained popular; as we mentioned before (p. 273), Sophocles’ Paean to
Asclepius was still sung in the empire,® New material was also added; the
remnants give us an impression of its poetic value.
We saw in the case of Callimachus that Hellenistic hymn writing could pass
completely from the realm of worship to that of literature. The same is shown
by Philicus of Corcyra, whom we mentioned earlier (p. 743) as a member of the
tragic Pleiad. He was the leader of the Dionysian technitae in Alexandria and
played his part in the oft-mentioned pompous procession of Philadelphus.
Protogenes painted him in the posture of a thinker (Plin. Nat. Hist. 35. 106)
and an inscriptional epigram by a contemporary praises the deceased in lofty
terms. A papyrus? produced part of a hymn to Demeter whose opening line
(in Hephaestion) addresses the literary connoisseurs (ypappateKot) on matters
of literary principles. A poem in catalectic choriambic hexameters was a piece of
metrical bravura of which its author was very proud. He chose Attic as his
literary dialect, the obvious choice for a tragic poet. The hymns of Castorion
of Soloe, an early Hellenistic poet, were probably also literary; Athenaeus has
1 No. 1388 P.; POWELL (v. sup.), 130; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 88 D.
2 No. 1386 P.; POWELL (v. sup.), 131; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 89 D.; PAGE (v. sup.), 462.
3 No. 1266 f. P.; POWELL (v. sup.) 185; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 201 f. D.; PAGE (v. sup.), 410.
4 No. 1515 P.; POWELL (v. sup.), 190; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 25. 90 D.; PAGE (v. sup.), 386.
5 No. 1516 P.; POWELL (v. sup.), 187; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 204 D.; PAGE (v. sup.), 412. Most
accessible survey of lyrical and other papyrus fragments of Hellenistic poetry in P(ack).
6 Cf. also MAAS, Epidaurische Hymnen. Schr. d. Kénigsberger Gel. Ges. Geistesw. Kl. 9/5,
1933, 155.
7 No. 1055 P.; Anth. Lyr. 6, 158 D.; PAGE (v. sup.), 402. (The epigram 452); C. GALLA-
vorti, Pap. Soc. It. 12/2, 1282; K. LATTE, ‘Der Demeterhymnos des Ph.’ Mus. Helv. 11,
1954, I.
Ye
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

preserved (10. 455 a) an extremely artificial trimeter to Pan. The same applies to
the Hymn to Eros by Antagoras' whom we met (p. 736) as the epic poet of a
Thebais. He spent part of his life in Macedon with Antigonus Gonatas. In
Crantor’s time and even later up to Arcesilaus’ headship he had connections
with the philosophers of the Academy. The seven lines of this hymn, preserved
by Diogenes Laertius (4. 26), show that the old introduction with the birth of
the god had changed into a learned enumeration of mythographical variants.
This was done much more elegantly by Callimachus (Hymn 1. 5) with relation
to a verse of Antagoras’.
Cleanthes shows how the philosopher could also avail himself of the ancient
hymn form to state his creed. But besides literature of this nature there is a large
number of poems which had to do with worship. The excavations at Epidaurus
at the local shrine of Asclepius have shown that Isyllus was a poet of modest
talent.2 He can be approximately dated because the inscription indicates a time
prior to 300, and he himself states that he was a boy when Philip marched across
the Isthmus and menaced Sparta after the battle of Chaeronea. After a gnomic
prologue in trochaic verse he tells in laborious hexameters how a proces-
sion in honour of Apollo Maleatas and Asclepius was founded and relates a
message of benediction which, in a time of peril, he, Isyllus, was chosen by the
god to pass on. In between them there is a Paean to Apollo and Asclepius in
ionics.
A dactylic Paean to Asclepius in an inscription in Erythrae3 is pre-Hellenistic,
since it is a few decades older than Isyllus’. Other inscriptions of religious poems
must be dated in approximately the same period: the Paean of one Macedonius
To Apollo and Asclepius, found near the Athenian Asclepieum, a Hymn to Zeus
of Dicte from Cretan Palaikastro, and a Hymn to the Dictaean Dactyls from
Euboean Eretria.+ Of the stones inscribed with religious texts yielded up by the
earth of Delphi, the Paean of Philodamus of Scarpheaé still belongs to this
period. Twelve stanzas, in which choriambic trimeters and glyconics pre-
dominate, celebrate Dionysus with true Bacchic enthusiasm. The poem, which
can with some probability be attributed to the year 325/324 from the archon’s
name in the subscriptio, is important evidence for the interpenetration of the
worship of Apollo and Dionysus in Delphi. Some other Delphic texts are
substantially younger. Aristonous’ Paean to Apollo, which shows metrical
kinship with Philodamus’ poem, belongs in the year 222 or near it, according to
the archon’s name. By the same poet a dactylo-epitrite Hymn to Hestia has been
* P. VON DER MUHLL, ‘Zu den Gedichten des Antagoras von Rhodos.’ Mus. Helv. 19 1962,
28. The second ofthe poems printed in Powert, Anal. Alex. 120 (= PEEK, Gr. Versinschriften
I 1923) is an epitaph for Crates and Polemon.
* Text in POWELL (v. sup.), 132; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 113 D. (with bibl.). wmaAmMowiI1TZz,
Isyllos von Ep. Phil. Unt. 9. Berl. 1886 is still a classic in research. Other remnants of inscrip-
tional Epidauric hymns in Pp. MAAS, v. p. 759, n. 6.
3 POWELL (v. sup.), 136; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 110 D.
4 POWELL (v. sup.), 138. 160. 171; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 127. 131 D. On the Cretan hymn
WILAMOWITZ, Griech. Verskunst. Berl. 1921, 499.
5 POWELL (v. sup.), 165; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 119 D.
° POWELL (v. sup.), 162; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 134 D.
760
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

preserved. Two Delphic Paeans,' the first of which written by an unknown

Athenian, the second by Limenius, are about a century younger (128/127?).
The quality of these poems, in which paeonic rhythm predominates, is not
above the average poetry used for cult practices, but these texts are unusually
important because the music is added. In this context it should be borne in mind
how meagre our store of ancient music is; a few lines from Euripides’ Orestes in
papyrus no. 300 P.,* the short Sicilus-song in an inscription and three hymns by
Mesomedes form the substance, together with the Delphic texts. Among recent
additions two items merit special interest. There is firstly the fragment in Oslo
which is probably from a tragedy so far unknown. Its counterpart is Ox. Pap.
no. 2436,* which is not likely to be from a satyr-play as conjectured by the
editors. A. M. Dale ascribes it to a monody of Althea in Euripides’ Meleager.
What matters is that they are plain proof that it was the custom in Hellenistic-
Roman times to set classical texts to music for concert performances. The plays
were then sung by tpaywédot in public axpodceis.5 Nero used to treat his
contemporaries to such shows.
Greek songs were also sung in the worship of the new gods. An inscription
in Delos® in prose reports the founding of the Serapeum by a certain Apollo-
dorus, with an additional sixty-five hexameters of an Aretalogy of the god
' POWELL (v. sup.), 141 (with the notes and their modern transcription); Anth. Lyr.
fasc: 6,172 D:
2 £. G. TURNER, “Two unrecognized Ptolemaic papyri’. Journ. of Hell. Stud. 76, 1956, 59,
dates the Orestes papyrus at c. 200 B.C.
3 On an alleged Pindaric melody cf. p. 207. Other papyri with notation nos. 1512. 1897 P.
New fragments in an Oslo papyrus: R. P. WINNINGTON-INGRAM in Fragments of Unknown
Greek Tragic Texts with Musical Notation. Oslo 1955, and Ox. Pap. 25, 1959, no. 2436, dis-
cussed by R. P. WINNINGTON-INGRAM; also BR. GENTILI, Grom. 33, 1961, 341. Survey and
summarizing discussion of the musical fragments: C. DEL GRANDE, Enciclopedia class. Sez.
2/Vol. 5, Turin 1960 (Cenni sulla musica greca 401-476). E. POHLMANN, Griech. Musikfrag-
mente. Ein Weg zur altgriech. Musik. Nuremberg 1960 (Erlanger Beitr. zur Sprach- und Kunst-
wiss. 8). Also R. P. WINNINGTON-INGRAM, Gnom. 33, 1961, 692. Id., research report, ‘ Ancient
Greek Music 1932-1957.’ Lustrum 1958/3, 5. Recently 6 small fragments in the papyrus
collection of the Austrian National Library were added to the body of knowledge:
H. HUNGER and £. POHLMANN, ‘Neue griech. Musikfragmente aus ptolemdischer Zeit in
der Pap. Samm. d. Ost. Nat. Bibl.’. Wien. Stud 75, 1962, 51. The fragments from tragedy
could belong in the earlier discussed category of pieces for solo recitation. - Comm.:
E. MARTIN, Trois Documents de musique grecque. Transcriptions commentées (hymne delph. a
Apollon, Epitaphe de Seikelos, fragment d’un cheeur d’Or. d’Eur.). Paris 1953 (Et. et comm.
75). - We add some recent works on Greek music and remind of c. VON JAN, Musici
Scriptores Graeci. 2 vols. Leipz. 1895/99; repr. by Olms/Hildesheim. In the New Oxford
History of Music. Ed. £. weLiesz, Vol. 1: Ancient and Oriental Music. Lond. 1957. ISOBEL
HENDERSON wrote the section on Greek, £. scoTrT the one on Roman music. THR. GEORGI-
apes, Musik und Rhythmus bei den Griechen. Hamb. 1958. Frequent reference to Greek music
by E. WERNER. The Sacred Bridge. The Interdependence ofLiturgy and Church in thefirst Millen-
nium. New York 1959. H. HUSMANN, Grundlagen der antiken und orientalischen Musikkultur.
Berl. 1961. L.P. records with texts by F. A. KUTTNER. New York 1955 and His Master’s Voice
1957. 4 Cf. BR. GENTILI, Gnom. 33, 1961, 341.
s Epigraphical evidence: M. GUARDUCCI, Atti Ac. Cl. Scienzi mor. ser. 6, vol. 2, 1927/29,
629. K. LATTE, Eranos §2, 1954, 125.
6 IG 15/4, 1299. POWELL (v. sup.), 68. On the founding of the cult M. Pp. NILSSON, Gesch.
d. gricch. Rel. 2, 2nd ed. Munich 1961, 121.
761
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

written by a certain Maeistas in the end of the third century. The Isis aretalogies!
in praise of the goddess Isis form a special branch of literature; this goddess had
a greater influence on the Greeks than any of the other foreign gods. It is
significant in this context that the ancient formulae of praise of the divine power
remained relatively pure in the Greek texts; this is demonstrated most impres-
sively in the brief powerful sentences of the inscription of Cyme, apart from
the hexameters of Andros and the trimeters of Cyrene. Late Hellenistic texts
stress syncretically Isis’ equality with the great goddesses of other religions.
We add here a papyrus from Chicago; it contains some badly damaged
remnants of hymnal poetry and there is some possibility that one of these is a
poem on Arsinoe-Aphrodite. It leads on to the praise of mortals who were
extolled with religious honours. At an earlier stage Hermocles of Cyzicus had
set himself up as the spokesman for Athenian adulation. He won a closely
contested victory (Athen. 15. 697 a) with Paeans on Antigonus and Demetrius
Poliorcetes; a Processional Song by Duris in trimeters with alternately following
ithyphallics has been preserved in Athenaeus (6. 253 d).* Its theme is Demetrius’
return from Corcyra and the way in which it honours the god present by wiping
all the others from the board (15 ff.) is as much a testimony to adulation as to
frivolity in religious matters. The late Hellenistic age bowed before their Gods
also. The Delphic poem of Limenius just mentioned ends with a wish for loyalty
to Rome. In the last period ofthe Hellenistic age such devotion sometimes rose to
turgid heights, as in an epigram by Alpheus of Mytilene (Anth. Pal. 9. 526),
which warned Zeus that he should take care of his Olympus in the face of such
irresistible conquerors. It is amusing that Stobaeus (Ec/. 3. 7, 12) preserved in a
section mepi avdpeias a Hymn of Melinno on Rome, because he confused the
name of the city with pwn. The poem consists of five well-composed stanzas,
but it is very difficult to fix a date for it within the Hellenistic age. Its latest
interpreter* allots it to the first half of the second century, during which time
the worship of the dea Roma was fast gaining ground. Plutarch gives the final
portion of aPaean’ on Titus Flaminius in his Life (16).
In order to round off this account a word should be added about prose-
writing. The question how far the origin of the love novel goes back into the
Hellenistic age is to be discussed in connection with the later flourishing of this
genre; nevertheless the present context calls for a mention of the Ionian novella.
Inan earlier chapter (p. 317.) it was pointed out that from the earliest beginnings
onward it had led a brisk life underneath the surface of great literature and that
Herodotus’ delight in telling a story revealed a great deal of this. Love themes

' w. PEEK, Der Isishymnos von Andros und verwandte Texte. Berl. 1930. In add. NILSSON
(v. sup.), 626, 5.
2 POWELL (v. sup.), 82; no. 1279 P.
3 POWELL (pv. sup.), 173; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 104 D., with the remnants of a poem in the
same metre, connected with the celebration of the Soteria by the technitae and written by
a certain Theocles of uncertain date.
* c. M. BOWRA, ‘Melinno’s Hymn to Rome’. Journ. of Rom. Stud. 47, 1957, 21.
5 POWELL (v. sup.), 173; Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6, 107 D. On the metre WILAMOWITZ, Griech.
Verskunst. Berl. 1921, 439, 3.
762
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
always played a part in this field; the increasing importance which such themes
were acquiring throughout Hellenistic literature also determined the character
of the novella of this time. The genius of Ionia survived in it and its ancient
birthplace Miletus gave its name to the Hellenistic variety of this genre: Milesian
Stories (MiAnovaxd) was the title of the collection of novellae with which
Aristides produced, in 100 B.c., a work of doubtful but not inconsiderable fame.
L. Cornelius Sisenna translated it into Latin and according to Plutarch (Crassus
32) Roman officers carried it in their baggage. We do not know whether
Aristides linked the stories, nor what was tradition or his own invention. Various
sources can still give us an impression of what these stories were like; the love
theme was treated with very little lofty sentiment and a strong dash of frivolity,
An instance of this is given by the novelistic insertions in the novels of Petronius
and Apuleius, among which the story of the matron of Ephesus could hardly be
outdone as an example of disenchantment. The tenth of the alleged letters of
Aeschines contains a rare admixture, a real Milesia, the story of the impudent
rascal who uses the ancient sacrificial customs of brides in the Troad to assume
the part of the river god Scamander and thereby pick the flower of maidenhood.
Even the late-comer Aristaenetus' has many such stories in his letters. This does
not mean that Aristides was responsible for all of them; the Milesian Story
became a collective idea.

The textual history of Aratus, for which the Marcianus 476 (end rith cent.) is the
most important evidence, was recently described with great thoroughness by
J. MARTIN: Histoire du texte des Phénomeénes d’ Aratos. Paris 1956. Also extensively
R. KEYDELL, Gnom. 30, 1958, 575. The editions and studies of &. MAAS: Arati
Phaenomena. Berl. 1893; 2nd unaltered ed. 1954. Commentariorum in Aratum
reliquiae. Berl. 1898; 2nd unaltered ed. 1958. Aratea. Phil. Unters. 12, 1892, are
still fundamental. Text with Engl. transl.: G. r. MAIR, Loeb Class. Lib. 1921
(with Callimachus and Lycophron); with French transl.: J. MARTIN, Bibl. di studi
Sup. 25. Florence 1956. A. SCHOTT-R. BOKER-B. STICKER, Aratea, Wort der
Antike 6. Munich 1958 (with survey, introd. and notes). Extensive bibl. in
Vv. BUESCU, Cicéron, Les Aratea. Paris-Bucharest 1941. — A. S. F. Gow and A. F.
SCHOLFIELD, Nicander. The Poems and Poetical Fragments. Cambr. 1953 with in-
the scholia. In add.
trod., comm., Engl. transl. and bibl., as well as the editions of
I. CAZZANIGA, ‘Nuovo frammento di Scholion a Nicandro, Ther. vv. 526-29’.
Stud. It. 27/28, 1956, 83. JACOBY F Gr Hist 271 f. with comm. — Of most ofthe
poets discussed in this section texts are in J. U. POWELL, Collectanea Alexandrina.
Oxf. 1925. Anth. Lyr. fasc. 6 D. The notes give detailed references. For Euphor-
ion also F. SCHEIDWEILER, Euph. fragm. Diss. Bonn 1908, cf. also p. 757, n. T.
p. TREVES, Euforione e la storia ellenistica. Milan 1955. On the novella: Qu.
CATAUDELLA. La novella greca. Prolegomeni e testi in traduzioni originali. Naples
1957. Sophie Trenkner, The Greek Novella in the Class. Period. Cambr. Univ.
1 A. LESKY, Aristainetos. Ziirich 1951, 43.
763
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Press 1958 introduces the interesting argument that Athenian classical literature,
especially Euripides and comedy writers, contains numerous novella themes,
evidence that this form of narrative existed already in the classical period.

8 HISTORIOGRAPHY
The fourth century showed already the tremendous lateral development of
Greek historiography. When during the Hellenistic age this tradition entered an
era which itself made history to a degree unknown before, a profusion of works
was inevitable; in a passage of major importance! Dionysius of Halicarnassus
states that the day would not be long enough if one should want to enumerate
all the authors. We do not wish to submerge our work in the mass of names
which have been transmitted,? but we shall trace certain trends of development
and restrict ourselves to the most important aspects.
In the passage just referred to Dionysius complains of the literary short-
comings of post-classical historiography. He begins his series with Phylarchus,
Duris and Polybius, but this synopsis conceals a profound contrast which
becomes clearly visible elsewhere. Polybius (2. 56) levels violent reproaches at
Phylarchus which are aimed at a whole trend in historiography; it has betrayed
the true task of all writing of history, the observation and transmission of truth,
by prostituting itself for the sake of effect at any price. Excitement and emotional
effect (exmAnfar Kal poyaywyhoar) are its only purpose, and this is also served
by the demand for évdpyeva, vividness. This form of history is censured for
speculating on the emotional participation (€Aeos, cuprdGera)) of the reader
and because it deliberately jettisons the fundamental difference between the aims
of historiography and tragedy. This obviously implies that writers in the manner
of Phylarchus and Duris — Ctesias is their predecessor in the fourth century —
attempted to dramatize their facts with the devices of tragedy and blotted out
the distinction between fiction and historical writing to such a degree as to make
them unrecognizable. Plutarch’s criticism of Phylarchus (Them. 32) is along the
same lines. The key-words ecplexis and psychagogy indicate that here the same
development turns up which we previously connected with Gorgias and his prin-
ciples (p. 625). In fact the conflict in historiography which is revealed in Polybius
is part of the wider controversy in which the stylistic ideals of simplicity and
lucidity were opposed by Gorgias’ epideictic trend and its claim to poetic effect.3
E. Schwartz* claimed that the fanciful historiography stigmatized by Polybius
was based on a Peripatetic theory,5 supposed to be condensed in Theophrastus’
1 De comp. verb. 4, 30; p. 21, 5 US.-RAD.
* Extensive enumeration in CHRIST-SCHMID’s Hist. of Lit., 6th ed. II/t, Munich 1920.
The remnants in JACOBY’s F Gr Hist.
’ Important for the elucidation of this antinomy: F. WEHRLI’s essay ‘Der erhabene und
der schlichte Stil in der poetisch-rhetorischen Theorie der Antike’. Phyllobolia fiir P. Von der
Miihll. Basel 1946, 9 and ‘Die Geschichtsschreibung im Lichte der antiken Theorie’. Eumusia.
Festgabe fiir E. Howald. Ziirich 1947, $4.
* Especially in the RE articles on Diodorus and Duris of Samos, which now also occur in
the collection Griech. Geschichtschreiber. 2nd unaltered ed. Leipz. 1959.
5 Bibl. in the second of the essays just-mentioned by WEHRLI, 69, I.
764
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

statement of principles On Writing History (Ilept toropias), and his opinion

remained influential for a long time. Now Duris of Samos was a pupil of
Theophrastus’ and certain symptoms of degeneration in Peripatetic biography
(cf. p. 691) show some similarity with the straining after effect of dramatized
history. Fritz Wehrli, however, has disputed this relation with Peripatetic
principles on a sound basis.! We are especially indebted to him for elucidating
a finding which is as important for the complex rhetorical and aesthetic theories
as for the practice of historiography. So far two pairs of opposites had stood out
sharply — firstly, care of, as opposed to indifference to, the linguistic form;
secondly, a strict sense of truth against writing for the sake of effect — but this
did not by any means imply that the two antinomies were parallel. On the
contrary, we already observed in the case of Theopompus (p. 625) that the use
of rhetorical aids did fit in with the search for historical truth, just as, on the
other hand, we saw that the historical dramatist Duris was rebuked for his
linguistic inadequacy in the passage of Dionysius with which we opened this
section.» So Wehrli comes to a conception of Theophrastus’ historiographical
principles which shows the Peripatetic in a certain rapport with the aim of the
Isocrateans. Gorgianic ‘psychagogy’ is rejected, and faithful reporting of truth
and substance is demanded, but on the other hand an elevation of style through
a moderate use of rhetorical means is emphatically recommended.
K. von Fritz? has also broached these complex questions in an important
paper which also contains an excellent survey of the complicated history of the
problem. Without attempting to return to the notion of a Peripatetic historio-
graphy, he puts the case that Duris and others like him could have adopted
certain principles under the influence of the Poetics in a way not intended by
Aristotle. In a well-known passage (Poet. 1451 b § ff.) Aristotle gives philo-
sophical precedence to poetry over history, because it is paAAov Ta Kabddov,
while history is paAAov ta Kal? exacrov; with some caution this may be
interpreted that poetry with its capacity for concentration and emphasis can
stress certain broad features of a ‘case’ more clearly. According to v. Fritz, this
gave Duris’ school the stimulus to make foropin compete with poetry for the
quality of xafdAouv by adopting its means of presentation. The same point of

« p, prev. note. Cautious criticism of Theophrastus’ treatise by REGENBOGEN, RE S 7,

1940, 1526.
2 Important indication by WEHRLI, Eumusia (v. p. 764, n. 3), 57 that Aristotle’s theory
(Rhet. 3, 12) in its separation of ypafixy and dywrorixy Actus shows a reservation against
the use of rhetorical artifices in forensic and political orations.
3 ‘Die Bedeutung des Aristoteles fiir die Geschichtsschreibung’ in Histoire et historiens
dans l’antiquité, Entretiens sur l’ant. class. 4. Fondation Hardt, Vandoeuvres-Geneva 1956, 85.
Diss.
of the question also in G. AVENARIUS. Lukians Schrift zur Geschichtschreibung.
Mention
Frankf. 1954. Meisenheim a. Glan 1956. Like wert he does not derive tragic historiography
from the Peripatos, but believes that the latter was responsible for a third style in addition
to Polybius’ tendency and Hegesias’ Asianism. F. W. WALBANK, Gnom. 29, 1957, 417 has
justifiable doubts about this; he has discussed this problem frequently: “Tragic History.
A Reconsideration.’ Bull. Inst. of Class. Stud. Univ. Lond. 1955, 4, and ‘History and
Tragedy’. Historia 9, 1960, 216. WALBANK recommends that theories about the origin are
abandoned and that tragic elements in Greek historiography are examined.
765
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

view would also make it inevitable that they should oppose the didactic
tendency of the Isocrateans.
In all this it should be borne in mind that hardly enough survives of historians
like Duris and Phylarchus to give a reliable impression,’ while various factors
may have affected their writing. Von Fritz’ contention — and here he agrees
with Wehrli — is still important in any case. He argues that the characteristics of
style and language in the separate histories have no definite link with specific
tendencies of literary expression, but that a variety of styles was prevalent.
And this seems to be borne out by the meagre remnants.
The tradition is scanty and so it is possible to ascertain of only a few of the
Hellenistic historians which of the various tendencies discussed was favoured by
each of them. In the very first group, however, that of the historians of Alex-
ander, contrasts such as were indicated are discernible in some cases.
Foremost in this group, in view of his position and reliability, not according
to his period, is Ptolemy Lagu (F Gr Hist 138). He was already close to Alex-
ander in Philip’s reign, went to war with him as a cavalry officer and had been
his personal aide (swuatopvAag) from 330 onward. He wrote the history of his
great king when he was the ruler of Egypt, obviously in his old age. It is quite
conceivable that he was led by the desire to oppose would-be history of Alex-
ander with his superior knowledge. When Arrian, himself a high-ranking
administrator and military officer, wrote his Anabasis of Alexander, he used
Ptolemy’s work as a basis and attempted to separate this valuable material from
the popular tradition (Aeyéweva). Thus Arrian is our main source for Ptolemy,
giving us a picture of an unbiased work in spite ofthe strongly autobiographical
elements in which military and political factors far outweighed geography and
ethnography. Ptolemy, who was indeed able to write history in the original
sense of personal investigation, also utilized the royal Ephemerides (F Gr Hist
117), written at the headquarters under the direction of Eumenes of Cardia and
Diodotus of Erythrae.
Ptolemy’s work, a factual report covering the wide range ofhis experience,
is contrasted by that of agroup of authors who willingly submitted to the lure
of representing unusual subject matter in a romantic way. Callisthenes and
Anaximenes have been mentioned before (p. 627); the orator Hegesias of
Magnesia (F Gr Hist 142), whom we met as the founder of Asianism, is a
historian of Alexander, whom we must consider as belonging to the extreme
fringe of the rhetorical historians. The most lasting effect was achieved by the
work of Clitarchus (F Gr Hist 137), who wrote in about 310, after Alexander’s
death but before the publication of Ptolemy’s memoirs. According to Cicero he
did this rhetorice et tragice. Following the conqueror’s career from his accession
until his death, he founded the popular tradition with its fictional features.
Diodorus excerpted it in Book 17?) ; Curtius Rufus and Justin follow thetradition
and so does much of the Aeyoeva in Arrian. Soon after Alexander’s death
' The interesting arguments provoked by v. Fr1Tz and printed in the Entretiens bring out
the complexity of the problem.
22 W.W. TARN, Alexander. 2 vols. Cambr. 1948, 5 ff., tried to upset this opinion.
766
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

Onesicritus of Astypalaea (F Gr Hist 134), who also took part in the great
expedition, wrote the king’s history (r@s ’AAéEavSpos 7}x6y) ! in which his
hero’s portrait was apparently provided with philosophical, especially Cynic,
features. Chares of Mytilene (F Gr Hist 125) also wrote a history of Alexander.
The remnants still show that he accompanied the expedition as chamberlain
(etcayyeAevs), but it is not possible to make sure how reliable his facts were.
A distinguished Macedonian who grew up with Alexander, Marsyas of Pella
(F Gr Hist 135), a brother of Antigonus Monophthalmus according to Suidas,
also wrote about the king, but it is very difficult to ascertain the nature of the
work with any precision. Did it form part of the framework of his Macedonica?
This much can be observed, however, that he wrote from a Macedonian point
of view and did not witness the cult of Alexander’s person. Among the writings
which appeared soon after 323 was also the one of Ephippus of Olynthus (F Gr
Hist 126), who sharply attacked Alexander’s personality on the basis of good
information; it was probably not unique in this respect.
In this mixed chorus a special position is taken by Aristobulus of Cassandrea
(F Gr Hist 139). He participated in Alexander’s expedition, but did not begin to
write his history, according to his own evidence (T 3), until the age of 84. This
means that he wrote later than the authors mentioned so far and mixed his own
memories with the abundant literature available at the time; but his capacities
were up to neither effective criticism nor to writing an influential work on
Alexander, and Eduard Schwartz,? justifiably made objections to Aristobulus’
being mentioned in one breath with Ptolemy.
In a different context (p. 578) mention was made of the report of Alexander’s
admiral Nearchus of his voyage from the mouth of the Indus to the Persian
Gulf.
We spoke of the fictional character of the history of Alexander in which
numerous openings offered by the subject matter combined with a certain
tendency of contemporary historiography. It is also useful to mention a product
of historical writing which, in the form transmitted, is of late origin, but whose
roots go back to the period under discussion. The Alexander—-romance, attributed
to Callisthenes, is accessible only in editions of the late empire. Various Greek
revisions exist alongside the Vulgar Latin text of Iulius Valerius of the end of
the third century. There are, in ad‘lition, some translations which are important
as stemmata of the transmission; the Armenian one ranks first in importance
among these.3 Recently Reinhold Merkelbach has been successful in largely
elucidating the growth of this abstruse and complex structure. Two new papyri
were of great assistance (Pap. Soc. It. 1285, 2nd c. a.D. and Pap. Hamb. 129, 1st
c. B.c.); they contain part of a fictitious correspondence of Alexander which in
part turns up again in the romance. One ofits main ingredients proves to be a
t Perhaps the opening words were used as a title, like the one of Xenophon’s Cyropaedia.
Monograph: T. s. BROWN, Onesicritus. Calif. Un. Pr. 1949.
2 RE 2, 914=Griech. Geschichtsschreiber. Leipz. 1957, 125.
3 Swift survey provided by rR. MERKELBACH, Die Quellen des griech. Alexanderromans.
Zet. 9, Munich 1954, [X; extensive description of the transmission ibid. 61. H. VAN THIEL,
Die Rezension X das Pseudo-Kallisthenes. Bonn 1959.
767
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

quantity of letters, among which an epistolary romance? about Alexander can

be distinguished (circa roo B.c.). In addition there are letters of Alexander to
Aristotle and Olympias about his adventures and two special writings about his
talk with the gymnosophist and on the king’s last days. This largely deplorable
mass of tradition was compiled by Pseudo-Callisthenes together with a history
of Alexander which dates from the Hellenistic age and bears the imprint of the
fictional historiography which was characterized earlier. The compiler was a
sorry fellow who, apart from the questionable quality of his material, often
fitted the members wrongly into the body which he wanted to create and
dislocated them into the bargain. His Alexander marches against the Persians
through Asia Minor, Sicily, Italy and North Africa, to mention one thing only.
This conglomeration was no doubt written in the third century a.D.; 1t corre-
sponds to its intellectual level. The romance had an immense influence on the
literature of times for which Greek thought was something alien. In numerous
revisions and translations it fixed the image of Alexander up to the beginning of
the modern era as a much coveted subject for entertainment.
In the following section we shall single out some historians from the profuse
quantity of material of the third century, without adhering too closely to
chronological limits. We are faced at once, as before, by the contrast between
subject matter and effect. Modern scholarship has acknowledged the work of
Hieronymus of Cardia (F Gr Hist 154) as an important and reliable source for
the half century after Alexander’s death.2 Hieronymus, who took part in
important events during the wars of the Successors on the side of Eumenes,
Antigonus Monophthalmus and Demetrius Poliorcetes, wrote his contemporary
history during the last few decades of his life, which fell roughly between 350
and 260. He covered the period from Alexander’s death probably up to Pyrrhus’
end (272) and became the standard source of this period for later authors
(Diodorus, Arrian, Plutarch, etc.). His objectivity based on an extensive factual
knowledge shows that he is of the same high integrity as his predecessor Ptolemy.
If he really wrote his work to offset Duris’ exuberance with responsible ad-
herence to fact, this would offer new scope for comparison.
However this may be, the tenets of Duris of Samos (F Gr Hist 76), whose life-
time (circa 340-270) largely coincides with that of Hieronymus, put him in the
opposite camp. In the opening of his Histories,3 which probably began with the
death of Philip’s father Amyntas and went on to Pyrrhus, he rebukes Ephorus
and Theopompus, because they fell behind with events; they lacked the talent
for mimesis, the catch-word for poetry, and in a more limited sense, for

' About this genre in which the school of rhetoric participates, cf. syYKUTRIS, RES 5, 1931,
PR
* T. S. BROWN, ‘Hieronymus of Cardia’. Am. Hist. Rev. 52, 1946/7, 684. Hieronymus was
considered as the author of Pap. Soc. It. 1950, no 1284. We add a reference to an anonymous
history of the Successors in the Heidelberg epitome (F Gr Hist 155) to give an idea of the
frequency of this species.
3 Perhaps the title was Macedonica, cf. JACOBY on T 3. E. G. TURNER considers attributing
Ox. Pap. no. 2399 to Duris. WILLIAM M. CALDER 111, Class. Phil. 55, 1960, 128 agrees
enthusiastically.
768
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
dramatization. Concentrating only on the written word they did not know
how to make their presentation enjoyable, to give 75o0v7 (F 1).! An instructive
example of Duris’ method of uncritical adornment and heightening of effect is
given by F 70 (Plut. Alcib. 32). When the victorious Alcibiades was sailing into
the Piraeus, Chrysogonus, champion at the Pythian games, accompanied the
rowing with the music of his flute, while Callippides, the tragic actor, gave the
rhythm of the strokes, both, of course, fully dressed for their profession, while
the Hagship made its entry with a purple sail hoisted. Plutarch states that this is
found neither in Theopompus, Ephorus nor Xenophon, and that it is quite
unlikely to have happened. There was a curious contrast between his attempts
to instruct and dramatize and the slight literary value of his style; this contrast
is worthy of note in view of our previous remarks about this author.
Duris wrote a great deal; we mention his Story of Agathocles and his Samian
Chronicle; his On Painting and On Toreutics are examples of the literature on art
which was already fully developed at the time.
Phylarchus (F Gr Hist 81)? worked entirely in the manner of Duris. We
found that both Polybius and Plutarch objected to him. His floruit falls in the
second half of the third century; his work was the main source for later authors
of the period from the death of Pyrrhus (272) to the beginning of Polybius’
historical writing (220).3
Earlier (p. 669) we met, as Athenian writers of contemporary historical
works, Demosthenes’ nephew Demochares and Diyllus, probably the son of the
Atthidographer Phanodemus. In one part of his work Diyllus completed
Ephorus’ contemporary history, carrying it on up to 297 in the second part. It
was continued by Psaon of Plataea (F Gr Hist 78), whose work probably con-
tinued up to 220, and carried on in turn by Menodotus of Perinthus (F Gr
Hist 82).
A problem is posed by Neanthes of Cyzicus (F Gr Hist 84), since there were
two men of that name, one an orator in 300, the other an author, apparently
very versatile, of the end of the third century. The most obvious solution would
be to attribute to the latter the historical works Hellenica, History of Attalus and
Chronicle of Cyzicus. Other works, like the one On Famous Men, are probably
his as well.
Historiography was still intimately connected with geographical interests, just
as it was in the early stages. This is clear in the case of Eudoxus of Rhodes
(F Gr Hist 79), an author of the third century, who wrote a Periplus in addition
to Histories.
Among the historians of the time of Alexander and the Successors we have
met men who themselves witnessed a considerable part of the events which they
described; Polybius will be another example. Another step led from this kind of

1 We reproduce here this passage which is as important as it is concise: “Edopos dé Kal

Ocdropmos trav yevouevwy tAcictov aredelpbnoay ovre yap pysioews pereAaBov ovdepuds ovr’
ASovis ev TO Ppaaa, adrod be rod ypadew povov errepeAnOnaav.
2 It is not certain whether Athens, Sicyon or Naucratis was his birthplace.
3 T, W. AFRICA, Phyllarchus and the Spartan Revolution. Un. of Cal. Publ. on Hist. 68, 1961.
769
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

historiography to the writing of memoirs, although this did not become $0

frequent and important among the Greeks as it did among the Romans.' This
agrees with the fact that the personal portrait was perfected in Rome. T'wo
works by Demetrius of Phalerum about his own affairs, On the Ten Years and
On the Constitution, were mentioned before (p. 689. F Gr Hist 228 — Fr. 131 ff.
Wehrli). Memoirs (‘Yzropvjpata) were written by Aratus of Sicyon, the
excellent statesman who had been leading the Achaean league with great skill
since 245. The work covered the period up to the battle of Sellasia (222); its
remnants reveal a strongly apologetic tendency and we observe that such writing
is a descendant, at least to a large extent, of forensic oratory.
At this juncture we make special mention of Nymphis of Heraclea (F Gr
Hist 432) from among the historians of the 3rd century who are of some
importance. He dealt with the history of Alexander up to about the middle of
the third century in a large work (twenty-four books) and wrote in addition a
history of his native town in thirteen books (Ilepi ‘HpaxAedas). With this he
introduces us to the immense number of local monographs which was now
growing to gigantic proportions through a tradition of an even earlier origin.
Felix Jacoby, in the third part of his monumental work with its 345 numbers
referring mainly to this period, has marshalled this profusion in an admirable
manner, reminding us that we have a relatively small portion of the total output
and that a find like that of the Anagraphe of Lindus (F Gr Hist 532) with a series
of new names makes the limitations of our knowledge painfully clear.
It is self-evident that writing of this nature was often more antiquarian than
historical in character, as shown by the example of Sosibius the Laconian
(F Gr Hist 595), a grammarian who treated Spartan antiquities with the methods
of Hellenistic psychagogy. In addition to a work on chronology (Xpdvwy
avaypadn) there are works such as On Spartan Sacrifices.
The historical interests of the time found their expression in the publicly
exhibited Chronicles, of which inscriptions like the Marmor Parium (F Gr Hist
239, up to the year 264/3) and the Anagraphe of Lindus (F Gr Hist 532, inscribed
in 99 B.C.) give us invaluable samples.
Even districts which were somewhat remote from the ancient centres of
Greek cultural life had their writers. Thus Xenophilus wrote about Lydia
(F Gr Hist 767), Menecrates of Xanthus about Lycia (F Gr Hist 769). A con-
tinuation of this trend was the adoption of the Greek language by natives of
non-Greek countries to write the history of their native land. Thus the Aegyptiaca
was the work of Manetho of Sebennytus (F Gr Hist 609), an Egyptian priest in
Heliopolis who took part in the introduction of the cult of Serapis under
Ptolemy I; a Babyloniaca was produced by Berossus (F Gr Hist 680), a priest
of Marduk who also lived in the early part of the Hellenistic age. Phoenician
' Cf. F. Jacosy, F Gr Hist 2 C, p. 639. G. Miscu, Gesch. d. Autobiographie. 3rd ed. I/t
Bern 1949, 66.
* P. SCHNABEL, Berossos und die babylonisch-hellenistische Lit. Leipz. 1923 (with the frag-
ments). W. HELCK, Untersuchungen zu Manetho und die adeyptischen Koniglisten. Unters. zur
Gesch. und Altertumsk. Agyptens 18. Berl. 1956. A biling. ed. of Manetho with Ptolemy,
Tetrabiblos, by W. G. WADDELL and F. B. ROBBINS. Loeb Class. Libr. 1940.
770
 LHAESHRLLENLS
ITC AGE

history was the subject matter of a work by Menander of Ephesus (F Gr Hist

783).
It goes without saying that the Far East, whose gates had been thrust open by
Alexander, had strongly beckoned the Greeks, who delighted in exploration.
Megasthenes (F Gr Hist 715), who in 300 travelled several times to the Indian
king Chandragupta (called Sandrocottus by the Greeks)as an envoy in the
service of Seleucus Nicator, wrote an Indica in four books which is more like
the ethnographical writings with their wide scope, which were once the root
of Ionian history. Another Indica was written by Daemachus' of Plataea (F Gr
Hist 716), who came to know the country as the ambassador of Antiochus
Soter; another author to be mentioned in this group is Patrocles (F Gr Hist 712),
who served Seleucus Nicator and Antiochus Soter in important positions;
he was the first to provide fairly precise information about the Caspian Sea
which he had collected in a voyage of exploration.
While the new centres, especially Alexandria, dominated intellectual life
throughout the main period of the Hellenistic age, the new great power in the
Mediterranean area forcefully demanded attention from the end of the third
century onward. The development of the west and Rome’s conflict with
Carthage inevitably evoked a lively echo in Greek literature, even before
Polybius appeared as the great interpreter of this epoch. For the First Punic War
he used the monograph of Philinus of Agrigentum (F Gr Hist 174), who had
little love for the Romans. Side by side with an admiration for this swift rise to
power whose poetical expression was mentioned before, there arose at an early
stage an intellectual opposition against Rome.? It is not strange that the fascinating
figure of Hannibal was also portrayed by a Greek. According to the convincing
emendation of Athenaeus 12. 542 a, Silenus of Calacte probably wrote his
history of Hannibal when his star had already sunk. Coelius Antipater owed a
great deal to him. Polybius (3. 20, 5) dismissed another historian of Hannibal of
this time, Sosylus of Lacedaemon (F Gr Hist 176) as a vulgar chatterbox,
together with a certain Chaerias, of whom nothing further is known, but food
for thought is given by a papyrus (no. 1162 P.; F 1 Jac.), which reveals Sosylus
as a reporter to be reckoned with.
In earlier sections (pp. 332; 628) we observed the growth of Sicilian historio-
graphy; early in Hellenistic times it came to an end with a work of extraordinary
influence. Its writer, Timaeus of Tauromenion (F Gr Hist 566), was born in the
middle of the fourth century as the son of Andromachus, who brought about
the resettlement of Tauromenion in 358-357, retaining his position of power
through his political skill even when Timoleon established a new order in the
island after 344. When, however, Agathocles brought the most important
Greek cities of Sicily under his power, Timaeus was forced to go into exile. He
lived in Athens for fifty years; there he first became a pupil of the Isocratean
Philiscus. According to a treatise On Octogenarians going under Lucian’s name,
1 The form Aniuaxos has also been transmitted.
2 Its history written by H. FUCHS, Der geistige Widerstand gegen Rom in der ant. Welt. Berl.
1938.
771
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

he reached the age of 96, but it is uncertain whether he ever returned to his
native country.
His work, quoted under various titles, among which is Historiae, told the story
of the Greek west from the beginning up to the outbreak of the First Punic War.
An introductory section (mpoxatacxev7}) of probably five books can be dis-
tinguished, dealing with the geography of the west as far as the extreme north,
a great deal of legendary material and probably also the most ancient coloniza-
tion. The quotations extend up to book 38, for which Agathocles’ death (289)
provided a convenient conclusion. This bitterly hated tyrant was the subject of
the last five books; in F 34 of book 34 a fragment of the preface to this, once
probably independent, part of the work seems to have been preserved. The
books On Pyrrhus, written later in life, were an addendum which probably led
on to 264.
Timaeus became a historian not in the centres of political and military
influence, but in the libraries of Athens; Polybius, who got into history by an
entirely different way, reproached him for his theoretical book-learning (12. 25
h: BuBAcann) €€ts). He levelled other malicious criticism at Timaeus, who
himself had been nicknamed Epitimaeus (T 1. 11) because of his censoriousness
which, as a pupil of an Isocratean, he directed, for instance, at the Peripatos. This
an expression ofa vice which is not exclusive to the Hellenistic age, of making
criticism of one’s predecessor the background of one’s own glory. It is no slight
merit that Timaeus composed a detailed history of the west from the viewpoint
of the contrast between Greeks and barbarians, basing himself on a large number
of foregoing works; probably he could already draw on the book On Sicily by
Lycus of Rhegium (F Gr Hist 570), Lycophron’s adoptive father. He early
recognized Rome’s significance; he enlarged upon its archaeology! as well as its
development to a great power. He was careful in his chronology and made his
contribution to the continued use of Olympiads for dating. The Olympionicae
was presumably a preliminary work in this field. He had some stylistic pre-
tensions and was so partial to the new fashion in writing that Cicero classed him
(Brut. 325) with the Asianic writers who strove for effect through gracefulness.
Timaeus’ work became an important source; its traces are discernible in the
most widely scattered fields and his critic Polybius showed his respect for him by
joining his own work chronologically on to that of Timaeus.
Polybius’ career as a historian passed through the chequered stages of a life
closely connected with contemporary events. His works contain autobio-
graphical material to an extent rare in any other historian. He was born in 200 in
Megalopolis; this city was a bastion against Sparta, formed after Leuctra (371)
by means of acomprehensive synoecism. For some decades it had been a member
of the Achaean League which managed to extract many advantages out of the
rivalry of the great powers and to maintain a certain amount of influence.
Polybius’ father Lycortas had several times performed the office of strategos of
the League, and Philopoemen, who had brought the League to its eminence
through his skilful diplomacy, was always his much-admired model; when he
' Timacus had considerable influence on the shaping of the saga of Rome’s origin,
774
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

died in hostile Messenia of poison in 183, Polybius carried the urn with his ashes
in solemn procession to Megalopolis. These youthful experiences did not lose
their significance when his career took him all over the world. In the year 169
he became hipparch, thus reaching one of the highest positions in the League,
though it was not to his advantage. When the Romans had broken the Macedon-
ian power at Pydna in 168, they deported, largely at the urging of the pro-
Roman party in the League, rooo eminent Achaeans to Rome where they were
to be put to trial. It never came to this, but it was not until seventeen years later
that the surviving 300 were permitted to go home. Although he stayed in Rome
under coercion, Polybius’ position was by no means that of a prisoner. The
circle of the high nobility, which was friendly to the Greeks, was soon opened
to him and he himself relates in an impressive passage of his work (32. 9 f.) how
in the house of the victor of Pydna the younger Scipio became his friend for
life.t After his return Polybius probably did not remain in his native land for
long. As early as 149 he was apparently already called to the African theatre of
war, where he participated in the campaign up to the fall of Carthage, evidently
on Scipio's staff. His voyage of discovery westward along the African coast, for
which Scipio provided the ships, probably also took place in this period.?
Before Carthage Polybius had been able to give advice as an expert in tactics
and the art of siege-warfare; but he was soon charged with important diplomatic
duties during the worst days for his native land. A senseless catastrophic policy
had led, in 146, to war with Rome, which ended in a complete collapse. The
destruction of Corinth by L. Mummius revealed the gravity of this fall in
a fearful manner. By intervening Polybius could achieve some mitigation and
in many places managed to help in collaboration with the senate committee
which was charged with resettlement. He then went back to Rome where he
could also achieve a great deal for his compatriots, and finally returned to his
native land, where at the age of 82 he died as a result of falling from his horse.
He may have left Greece in his old age several times more; it is very likely that
he took part in Scipio’s Spanish campaign and at least in the conquest of
Numantia; a sojourn in Alexandria during the reign of Ptolemy Physcon may
also have occurred in this period.
A number of Polybius’ minor works, the Biography of Philopoemen, some of
which is probably concealed in Plutarch, the Tactica,3 On Conditions of Habita-
tion in the Equatorial Zone, the monograph On the Numantine War, are lost.
About a third of the great historical work which Polybius wrote in the convic-
tion that the fate of Rome was decisive for the world has been preserved. We
shall begin with a few remarks about its length, structure and state of preserva-
tion. Of the forty books of the whole work the first two are an introduction
1 p, FRIEDLANDER, in the section Sokrates in Rom of his Platon 1, 2nd ed. Berl. 1954
demonstrated the influence of Socrates’ association with his followers as a model for this
description.
2 FE. W. WALBANK and M. GELZER (v. Gnom. 29, 1957, 401) consider it likely that Polybius
travelled to Spain and Africa with Scipio as early as 151.
3 This sort of literature was abundant. There is therefore little reason for tracing Ascle-
piodotus’ Tactica in the Florentine manuscript via Posidonius to Polybius.
tia
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

(xpoxatacxevy}) with a brief survey of the period 264-220, which represents

the link with Timaeus’ work. Books 3-5 depict events in Italy and Greece up to
the year of Cannae. Book 6 follows with his theory of constitutions and his assess-
ment of the constitution of Rome. In Book 7 the year 215 marks the beginning
of an annalistic treatment compiling events in the east and the west year by year.
This arrangement is abandoned only occasionally to prevent a distortion of the
context. The material has been distributed in such a way that generally one
whole or half an Olympiad fills a book unless particularly eventful years demand
all of this space. Book 12 with the polemic against the older historiographers
forms a caesura, like Book 6, so that at least for this part a composition in
hexads seems to be marked off; the consistency of this structure, however,
should not be exaggerated. With Book 26 the momentous year of Pydna (168)
is reached. The rest of the work leads up to the year 144. At that time Carthage
and Corinth had been destroyed, conditions in Greece resettled and the large
realm of Rome had been placed on a broad foundation. Apart from minor gaps
Books 1-5 have been entirely preserved; of the other ones we only have pieces
in excerpts the size of which varies greatly for the individual books. The most
important excerpt-manuscript, the Codex Vaticanus Urbinas Gr. 102 (r1th/
t2th c.) has epitomes of Books 1-16 and 18, in which the order of the original
has been maintained and whose attribution to individual books is certain. Is this
a selection made in antiquity? A definite answer is not possible. In addition
there are a large quantity of pieces from the comprehensive collection of
manuscripts which Constantine VII Porphyrogennetus ordered to be compiled
in the tenth century. Attribution to individual books poses a number of difficult
problems in this case.
A work so extensive and of so rich a content is not written in one stroke, and
there is evidence of its syncretic growth. The prooemium (tr. 1, 5) announces
the description of the fifty-three years (220-168) in which Rome achieved
world-dominion! and a number of passages? still presupposes the existence of
Carthage. Attempts to separate the various strata led to some excesses of analysis;
scholars went so far, for instance, as to squeeze five layers from the work.3 The
inevitable reaction was to make Polybius write the whole work down in one
stroke after the year 146.4 It may be assumed that he conceived the main part of
the work up to Pydna in Rome, presumably in the years after 160. Subsequent
events, especially his participation in the Third Punic War, decided him to
carry it on; this decision was given a theoretical foundation in chapter 3, 4,
which was inserted later; it was not only the success (Pydna) but also the situa-
tion after the victory which demanded thoughtful analysis. On the question of
syncresis in Book 6 some further remarks will have to be made. To record
everything that can be stated with some certainty we add the theory of Matthias

' Other passages in W. THEILER, ‘Schichten im 6. Buch des P.’ Herm. 81, 1953, 302.
2 In ZIEGLER (v. inf.) 1485, 39.
3 R. LAQUEUR, Polybios. Leipz. 1913.
* H. BRBSE, ‘Die Entstehung des polybianischen Geschichtswerkes’. Rhein. Mus. 94, 1951,
157. He defends his point of view in ‘Polybios-Interpretationen’. Phil. 101, 1957, 269.

774
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

Gelzer' that the extensive passages about the history of the Achaeans are from a
period preceding the writing of the universal historical work. It is difficult to
ascertain whether parts were published separately and with what intervals, but
there are also good grounds for assuming a posthumous edition of the whole.?
Polybius expressed himself very positively and elaborately on his principles of
historiography. We are reminded in more than one aspect of Thucydides, but
only with regard to the theoretical side; in the execution there is no common
measure for Polybius’ pragmatism and Thucydides’ profundity.
In the question whether history should serve usefulness or delight (&péAeva
or tépyus), a question over which minds were divided in Hellenistic times, he
resolutely championed the cause of usefulness. On this principle we saw him
attack Phylarchus and people like him; what mattered to him was to separate
historiography as he understood it from the emotions of tragedy. In the intro-
duction to Book 9 he discusses the austerity and uniformity of his own work
with objective judgment (or in defence against outside criticism?). But he
declares with conviction that he believes in a historiography which does not
entertain with genealogies, stories of foundations and such like, but which
hands on to the politically minded a knowledge of actions done by rulers and
peoples. This is what he means by pragmatical history (apayyartiKds tpdzos).
It imposes the unconditional duty of objective search for truth. Hardly any
contemporary historian would have put the problem of this demand theoreti-
cally in the way in which Cicero did this later in the famous letter to Lucceius
(Ad fam. 5. 12), but for Polybius it was a task which he took very seriously. In
Book 12 (25 d ff.), in his criticism of Timaeus, he draws an interesting parallel
between medicine and history, dividing each into three parts. For the pragmat-
ical historian they are represented by work on written sources, geographical
information gained through personal enquiry and insight into the practice of
politics. In this respect the man who had acquired such insight to an unusual
degree through his own activity stands out from the man of letters. It agrees
with this background that in his criticism of Timaeus he also condemns the free
invention of speeches. Whenever he inserts these himself, he demands that they
should achieve the authentic idiom as much as possible. He must have been able
to do this for the history of the Achaean League and occasional proceedings
of the Senate. All the same it is characteristic that Thucydides’ notion of inner
truth and the imposing use of speeches for the revelation of the basic forces of
political happenings were beyond Polybius’ scope.
The form in which Polybius proposed to carry out his task is not that of the
monograph, but of universal history. He felt himself to be a master in this
sphere, giving only credit to Ephorus (5. 33) as his predecessor. In accordance
with his principles he describes in detail in the early part of his work how events
in separate areas had become interwoven into an organic whole (swparoedés)
since the 140th Olympiad, with which his discussion begins.
t ‘Die Achaica im Geschichtswerk des P.’ Abh. Akad. Berl. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1940/2; cf.
Gnom. 29, 1957, 406.
2 Cf. ZIEGLER (v. inf.), 1487, 41.
Ces
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Polybius took history literally as the magistra vitae, trusting that its mastery
would lead to an understanding of political situations (e.g. 9,2, 12, 25 b). But in
the second passage mentioned we are told that this useful effect is not produced
by merely telling the story of the events, but by penetrating into their causes.
This seems to have some affinity with Thucydides, but when Polybius begins to
work with notions like aévéa and wpédaais (22, 22 a) which the great Athenian
uses pregnantly (v. p. 459), the difference between them becomes clear. Nor does
Polybius’ actiology attempt to penetrate to the common humanity which
Thucydides reveals as the deepest level of motivation; his thinking rather moves
among the categories of political life as he had come to know it in domestic and
foreign politics. In this context he greatly stresses the idea, not new in itself, that
there is a close correspondence between the fate of states and their constitutions.
To this circumstance we owe the much-discussed expositions of Book 6, in
which his criticism of Rome’s constitution is placed within a broad framework
of theoretical considerations. Others had preceded Polybius here, but his
personality is revealed by the sweep of this passage, even ifit is not quite free
from contradictions. It has been observed for a long time that two theories were
joined together here. The doctrine of the cyclic change (weraBoAy)) of con-
stitutions through degeneration, for which Polybius himself mentions Plato and
other philosophers (6. 5) as predecessors, was blended with the evaluation of the
mixed constitution as the best and most lasting form. This great esteem for the
mixed constitution had first been expressed by Aristotle’s pupil Dicaearchus in
his Tripoliticus.! A controversial question? is whether the two theories belong to
different strata of the work or whether the author wished to combine them in
the sense that the mixed constitution proves to possess the greatest resistance
against degeneration and change. If this possibility is accepted, later additions
are not necessarily rejected by implication. These can apparently be distinguished
especially in the gloomy view of Rome’s future (6. 9. 12 f.). Polybius had
observed — so much is clear from a first stratum — that the essential basis of
Rome's rise was its mixed constitution which reveals elements of monarchy,
oligarchy and democracy in consuls, senate and people. But in the passage
referred to he states that Rome, like everything else that has grown naturally,
cannot escape from the law according to which growth and vigour are followed
by decay. These must be the sentiments of the older Polybius, to whom the
wrongs and dangers in a constitution whose unexampled successes had at one
time made him its unreserved admirer were becoming apparent.
' p, WEHRLI, Dikaiarchos. Basel 1944, 28, 64. The opinion that Polybius borrowed his
political convictions directly from Dicaearchus is opposed by K. Vv. FRITZ, most recently in
Entretiens sur l’antiquité class. 4. Fondation Hardt, Vandoeuvres-Geneva 1956, 95.
* This passage is discussed in a broad context by H. RYEFEL, MeraBod) modcrevv. Noctes
Romanae 2. Bern 1949. W. THEILER (v. p. 774, n. 1) advocates a division of thought groups
according to layers in the work. The analysis ofk.v. FRITZ, The Theory ofMixed Constitutions
in Antiquity, New York 1954 is based on a broad historical and constitutional-historical
background. In his analysis of the strata he adopts a cautious attitude without denying sub-
sequent additions. In all the three passages referred to ext. bibl. Also H. ERBSE (v. P- 774, n. 4)
and M. GELZER, Gnom. 28, 1956, 83, who fundamentally agrees with THEILER and is rather
inclined to assume stages of composition in the work.
776
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE
Polybius was no philosopher and least of all a religious thinker. He was
familiar with philosophical doctrines, but he was neither a Stoic nor an adherent
of any other philosophical sect. His appraisal of Roman religion discloses
clearly (6. 56, 6) that his attitude was that of the enlightened Hellenist; he
acknowledges its great importance, but for him it meant the guarantee of a
social order on an ethical basis. This conception leaves religious worship
inviolate. Tyche is often mentioned; it has frequently been observed! that
various notions are confused: Tyche obviously as the providential ruler of the
universe, Tyche as envious as the gods of old, Tyche as the irrational element
whose domain is narrowed by intelligent historiography as best it can without
denying her existence. This observation can neither be explained by assuming a
development in Polybius’ thought nor can the opposites be reconciled by means
of logical construction. The fact is simply that in Polybius we find the multi-
plicity of notions which in the Hellenistic age had collected as the flotsam of
religious thought.
It will be understood that Polybius’ language is far remote from freshness and
naturalness. Its grammar is largely Attic. It has been aptly stated that Polybius’
attitude to Attic Greek is conservative, that of the Atticists reactionary.? This
can be gathered from the use of the optative which Polybius, and later to a less
extent also Diodorus, still retains, while in authors like Dionysius of Halicarnas-
sus it was artificially revived. His style owes its peculiar character to a strong
tendency towards the abstract. This is firstly clear in the vocabulary, which
contains many noun-formations and compound verbs which have little in
common with Attic Greek; then the structure of his periods lacks smoothness
and balance through his attempts to force a maximum of thought content into
a many-layered sentence construction by means of participles and substantival
verbs. His careful avoidance of hiatus proves that he does not aim at formless-
ness. The background to Polybius’ style is the language of the Hellenistic
chancellery which, in the age of Koine, had developed into a vehicle for writing
official documents which combined verbosity with precision.
Polybius’ work was epoch-making in the historiography of the later Hellen-
istic age, as is illustrated by the fact that others took up where he left off.
Posidonius’ extensive history of the world (v. p. 679)3 indicated this intention
in its title; Strabo, whom we shall meet later as a geographer, wrote a Historica
Hypomnemata (F Gr Hist 91), of which four books formed a comprehensive
introduction followed by a voluminous main part (forty-three books?) with the
sub-title History of the Time after Polybius (ra peta ILodAvBrov).
The latter part of the Hellenistic age did not produce a historian of importance.
The special characteristic of this period was the tendency to make new compila-
tions of material which had been assiduously extracted from the mass of older
literature. The voluminous historical work of Agatharchides of Cnidos (F Gr

1 kK. V. FRITZ (v. sup.), 388. ZIEGLER (v. inf.), 1532.

2 Cf. A. DEBRUNNER, Gnom. 28, 1956, 588.
3 We possess only fragments; of great importance the careful arrangement by JACOBY
F Gr Hist 87.
777
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Hist 86)' was probably such a work; in ten books it dealt with Asian history and
in another forty-nine with Europe. We know more about his work On the Red
Sea (by which he means the Persian Gulf) through various remnants, among
which an excerpt of Photius. It can only be called geography in the broad
meaning of a literature which had a variety of interests apart from geography
based on mathematics. Agatharchides, who lived in the second century and
would hardly have written later than 160, was a Peripatetic philosopher and was
a writer bitterly opposed to Asianism. Timagenes of Alexandria (F Gr Hist 88)
was an orator. In 55 he was brought to Rome as a prisoner of Pompey’s; there
he gained some distinction, but gave offence because of his wicked tongue,
finally finding a refuge for his old age with Asinius Pollio. His work On Kings
started with pre-history and continued at least up to Caesar. His subsequent
influence was strong, but nowadays it is an open question? to what extent Pom-
peius Trogus’ Philippica is dependent on Timagenes.
Strictly speaking, the Hellenistic age ends in 30 B.c., although this date does
not represent a rigid boundary. Timagenes lived beyond it, and so did some
other compilers who are as yet untouched by the classicist reaction.
In spite of the volume of work preserved Diodorus Siculus of Agyrion has to
be satisfied with a modest place in the history of literature. His life can be
approximately dated by the mention of the removal of a Roman colony to
Tauromenion (probably 36 B.c.) as the latest event. In the forty books of his
Bibliotheca he presented to a broad public a synchronous account of Greek and
Roman history based on a large number of different sources; the combination
of Greek and Roman chronology caused him considerable difficulties. He could
not resist inserting the history of his native island as well, mainly after Timaeus
and Duris. The quality of Diodorus’ public can be gauged by the retrograde step
which he took in including mythical pre-history in his account. But in spite of
all abuse of Diodorus we are glad to accept his donations. Thus in Book 3 from
chapter 52 onward and in 4 he utilized, besides Dionysius Scytobrachion, a
mythographical handbook, and since we have very little of this sort of thing,
this passage is very important for its subject-matter. And this also applies to
other aspects of the Bibliotheca which goes up to Caesar’s conquest of Britain
(54). Because Diodorus’ work is entirely dependent on his sources, even when
he makes a brave display in his prooemia, it is relatively easy to detect them, in
many cases with certainty. For the classical period he largely uses Ephorus, for
the next Duris and Phylarchus, and further Polybius. For Books 33-37 he took
Posidonius’ historical work as his basis. And so he is important for history because
of the material he preserved and for historiography because of the recognizable
sources, but with these his significance has been substantially summed up.
The origin of the introductory chapter 1. 7 f£. which deals with cosmogony
and cultural history has recently been the subject of a lively discussion. The

* Only the historical fragments. Those on the work On the Red Sea in MULLER, Fragm.
Hist. Graec. Paris 1841 ff. and Geogr. Gr. Min. Paris 1855/61, 1, 111.
* Jacoby collects all the arguments for v. GUTscHMIDT’s old thesis which is violently
opposed by 0. sEEL, Die Praefatio des Pompeius Trogus. Erlangen 1955, 18 (19, 15 bibl.)
778
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

opinion of K. Reinhardt that in these passages Diodorus goes back to Democritus’

Diacosmus via Hecataeus of Abdera, can at present be considered to have been
refuted.! In an earlier section (p. 679, n. 7) the most recent arguments were
reported; they still leave open the possibility of considering Posidonius in this
context.
Books 1-5 and 11-20 (from Xerxes’ expedition to the alliance against Anti-
gonus Monophthalmus) have been completely preserved, and we possess a great
deal of the lost parts in various excerpts. There are those in the collection of
Constantine Porphyrogennetus mentioned in connection with Polybius, those
by Photius and the ones in a lost manuscript published in 1603 by David
Hoeschel in Augsburg as an appendix to the Eclogae legationum. Quotations from
the Bibliotheca occur only late in ecclesiastical authors and the Byzantines.
Stylistically Diodorus is a pre-classicist Hellenist who, like Polybius, avoids
hiatus in his Koine. Significant differences in the manner of narrative are con-
nected with the sources; for instance the vivaciousness of the passages on Aga-
thocles can very probably be traced back to Duris. On the other hand, a com-
parison of parts of Book 3 (11-48) with Photius’ excerpts of Agatharchides’
treatise On the Red Sea reveals that Diodorus avoids unevenness and writes more
smoothly, but also less colourfully, than his original.
The universal history of Nicolaus of Damascus (F Gr Hist 90) was the largest
in size. In the third decade we find him with Antony and Cleopatra as their
children’s educator; later he went to Herod’s court where he remained until the
king’s death (4 B.c.). At the order of the son he represented his interests in Rome
where he probably died. Occasionally he is called a philosopher (T 2), one of his
works being On Aristotle’s Philosophy. A collection of curious customs (E@av
avvaywy7) was dedicated to Herod; Stobaeus has preserved some of it; it
reveals the line which starts in Ionian ethnography, continues via the Peripatos
(Aristotle’s Néuuwa BapBapixa) and winds up in the Hellenistic paradoxo-
graphy. Nicolaus also wrote biographies, one of Augustus and his own. Con-
stantine’s excerpts have preserved a little of both; they also give epitomes of the
main work Historiae in 144 books, starting with the great realms of the Orient,
passing on to Greek pre-history and finishing off with the year of Herod’s
death. We also find here a compilation on a large scale which included Roman
history; the increase in volume which is apparent for the period which Nicolaus
witnessed himself lets us suppose that he added original work here.
The compilers mentioned are joined by one of royal rank. Juba II of Maure-
tania (F Gr Hist 275) passed his youth in Rome as a hostage; he used this time to
study diligently, until in 25 he received from Augustus part of his paternal
domain. According to the titles and some remnants he was an antiquarian with
an insatiable appetite for material who made accumulations of excerpts. These
referred to various countries; among them there was a Roman History. The
Similarities (“(Opovdtyres, 15 books) must have been an exhaustive collection

1 w. SPOERRI, Spdthellenistische Berichte iiber Welt, Kultur und Géotter. Schweiz. Beitr. z.
Altertumswiss. 9. Basel 1959. According to him Diodorus’ text has no longer any title to
jts position among the fragments of Democritus VS 68 B 5.
779
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

of details which in accordance with this kind of literature drew comparisons

between all and sundry in the world. A pleasant surprise is his interest in art and
the theatre. His work On Painting comprised at least nine, the History of the
Theatre at least seventeen books.
The name of historian in the strict sense was no longer applicable to some of
the last-mentioned authors, and to an even less extent to Alexander Polyhistor
of Miletus (F Gr Hist 273). He came to Rome as a prisoner of war with Cornelius
Lentulus and was granted his freedom in 82 in the course of the measures after
Sulla’s proscriptions.! Suidas characterizes his writings briefly as innumerable.
A large number ofethnographical books can be distinguished which are not part
of a collective work. Thus he wrote about Egypt, Libya, Syria, India, about
Assyrians, Jews and Chaldaeans and even though titles like On Rome (5 books),
On the Oracle in Delphi, On Pythagorean Symbols or Collections of Marvels attest
to Polyhistor’s manifold other interests, a large part of his work consisted in
informing the Romans about the east.?
It is no rare occurrence to see the Greek stylus in the service of Romans in this
period. Theophanes of Mytilene (F Gr Hist 188) can be quoted as an example;
he accompanied Pompey and described the latter’s eastern campaigns for
propaganda purposes. Others like Metrodorus of Scepsis (F Gr Hist 184),3 who
wrote for Mithridates, took up a position in the camp of Rome’s enemies.
The geographical-historical periegesis, assiduously cultivated as a form by
Alexander Polyhistor, leads to the special literature of the periegetes, whose
development was discussed earlier (p. 668 f.). In this field we meet Polemon of
Ilium, who lived in the second century; he provides a contrast with the search
for startling effect and the mere collector’s industry of the compilers through
his genuine scientific disposition and honest services to scholarship. He also paid
tribute to the delight in the bizarre of the time in a treatise On Marvels (Ilepi
Gavpaciwy), but this means little in comparison with the vast output in which
he recorded the results of careful personal investigations in nearly all Greek
areas. He was nicknamed the ‘hoarder of inscriptions’. We can only selectively
indicate the extent of his achievement. His periegeses concerned Athens’
Acropolis, the sacred road to Eleusis, dedicatory offerings in Sparta, treasuries
in Delphi, notable places like Ilium, Dodona, Samothrace. In the form of
histories of foundations (Kricevs) he reported on cities of the Greek north and
west. Occasionally he wrote treatises in epistolary form on learned questions like
epithets of gods, an obscure proverb or semantic developments. A scholar who
sought truth so honestly could not avoid polemic. He directed a particularly
extensive treatise of this kind against Timaeus.
Demetrius of Scepsis also belongs to the second century; he wrote an elabor-
ate periegesis of the Troad as a commentary on the Trojan catalogue in the Iliad

™ Cf. APPIAN, Bell. Civ. 1, 469.

* A positive assessment of his writings in F. JACOBY, F Gr Hist 39, 253, 293.
* JACOBY has good reason for distinguishing an older Metrodorus of Scepsis, the Academic
and mnemotechnic, from a younger one, Mithridates’ favourite.
4 ornAoxdmas can only be rendered approximately.
780
 DBS RELENISTIG. AGE

(2. 816-877). He also occupied himself with the position of ancient Ilium,
although with the wrong assumption, which was only definitely removed by
Schliemann. It shows the vigour of contemporary intellectual life that a work of
ponderous erudition could be written in little Scepsis, although the place had
already been something like an outpost of the Academy as far back as the
fourth century (p. 507).
A few brief notes are added on pseudo-history, which cannot claim a section
for itself. A border-case is Hecataeus of Abdera (F Gr Hist 164), who wrote
under Ptolemy I. It was thought that his work On the Egyptians could be dis-
tinguished in Diodorus’ Book 1 on Egyptian religion (11-13).! It reveals a
peculiar form of ‘ethnographical Utopia’ (Jacoby), connecting historical—ethno-
graphical material with mythology and free invention in a manner which makes
the whole a lively expression of certain ideas about state and society. Ancient
Egypt, for instance, which had been the land of venerable secrets for the Greeks
from times immemorial appears as the place where civilization and an ideal
constitution developed. The book On the Hyperboreans is staged entirely in the
realm of fantasy. The excursus on the Jews in Diodorus 40. 3 has been assigned
with great probability to Hecataeus’ book on Egypt (F 6). This earliest known
utterance was probably the reason for connecting the forgery of a book On the
Jews and of an Abraham (Kaz’ “ABpapov Kai rods Atyumrious) with the name
of Hecataeus.
It is not a long way from Hecataeus to the approximately contemporary
Euhemerus of Messene (F Gr Hist 63), the friend of Cassander (317/316-298/297).
His Sacred Record (‘lepa avaypadn) told the story of the island of the Pan-
Achaeans in the Indian Ocean in which Euhemerus had found a golden stele
with information about Uranus, Cronus and Zeus; on the basis of this
‘document’ he explained that the gods — in so far as they were not personified
forces of nature — were nothing but highly meritorious people from the remote
past. Euhemerus achieved some fame; Ennius made him known to the Romans
and even nowadays Euhemerism is used as a term for interpreting religion in a
certain manner. But the fact should not be overlooked that Euhemerus repre-
sents only one point, though a notable one, along the line of a rationaliz-
ing interpretation of mythology which we can follow from Hecataeus of
Miletus and Stesimbrotus onward. A similar line runs from the sophists to
Euhemerus.
We have often come upon Hellenistic authors who collected all kinds of
marvels; such a paradoxography developed into a separate genre which had its
roots in ancient Ionian foropin. Mention must also be made of Bolus of
Mendes (VS 78) whom we met earlier (p. 340) as a doubtful Democritean. He
introduced the tradition of occult medical and alchemical sciences which was still
rampant in the Middle Ages. His yerpoxunra was put under the name of
Democritus. Antigonus of Carystus, under whose name a Collection of Wonderful

1 spOERRI (cf. p. 679, n. 7) has shown that this is by no means certain; he thinks that it
could be late Hellenistic traditional material which is no longer within our grasp. Authori-
tatively on his sceptical attitude 0. GIGON, Gnom. 33, 1961, 770.
ZG 781
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Histories (loropiav rrapaddEwv ovvaywyy)! has been preserved, also belongs

in the third century. Since Wilamowitz’ well-known investigation,” many
scholars assume that this Antigonus is identical with the often-quoted writer of
lives of philosophers,3 and also with the Antigonus who wrote about toreutics
and painting at the court of Attalus I. If this is correct, Antigonus must be
counted among those artists who, through their reflections on the conditions and
aims of their work, added a new dimension to the Greek theory of art early in
the Hellenistic age.*
This paradoxography flourished in a rich soil. Pliny the Elder and an anony-
mous treatise on all kinds of marvels in the waters,5 give some idea of the book
by Isigonus of Nicaea on Paradoxa (first century B.c.). It shows the similarity
between the various branches of the tradition.
The mythological handbook which presented the material in an easy way
obviously belonged to this time as well. Dionysius of Samos (F Gr Hist 15)
made claim to serious consideration; in about the first half of the second century
he wrote his Cyclus in seven books. By way of contrast there is Dionysius with
the nickname Scytobrachion (F Gr Hist 32) who sported with tradition accord-
ing to his whims in his mythographical novels about the history of the gods, the
Trojan War and the expedition of the Argonauts.
Since there are serious objections against including Asclepiodotus’ Tactics
(Téyvn taxtixy)® among the sciences, it is mentioned here. This treatise was
written in the first century B.c., and therefore it is the first example of that
scholastic treatment of an obsolete art of war, which was continued under the
empire by such military writers as Aelian and Onasander. Polyaenus’ Strategem-
ata, too, are related to this genre.

jacosy’s F Gr Hist, which deserves the highest praise and respect, is an

inexhaustible storehouse for the authors of this section. On many of those
mentioned here there are valuable RE articles by £. scHWARTZ, now con-
veniently collected in Griech. Geschichtsschr. 2nd unalt. ed. Leipz. 1959. — Bibl.
on Alexander: H. BENGTSON, Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 319 ff. Also
F, SCHACHERMEYR, Alexander d. Gr. Graz 1949. C. A. ROBINSON JrR., The
1 Edition: 0. KELLER, Rerum Naturalium Scriptores 1. Leipz. 1877. Ibid. the Paradoxo-
graphus Vaticanus which Antigonus uses. 2 A. V. Karystos. Phil. Unters. 4, 1881.
3 Vide K. V. FRITZ, Gnom. 28, 1956, 332. According to him these biographies were based
on personal memories and inquiries without following a Peripatetic pattern of composition,
They dealt with contemporaries and meant to illustrate with their lives how to progress
to happiness and moral uprightness.
+ On the development of the theory of art in connection with Hellenistic and later philo-
sophical systems B. SCHWEITZER, ‘Der bildende Kiinstler und der Begriff des Kiinstlerischen
in der Antike’. Neue Heidelberg. Jahrb. 1925, 28. Xenokrates von Athen. Schr. d. Konigsberg.
Gel. Ges. Geistesw. KI. 9/1. 1932. ‘Mimesis und Phantasia.’ Phil. 89, 1935, 286.
5 H. OBHLER, Paradoxographi Florentini anonymi opusculum de aquis mirabilibus. Tiib. 1913.
6 H. KOCHLI-w. RUsTOW, Griech. Kriegschriftst. 2/1, Leipz. 1855. W. A. OLDFATHER
Aeneas Tacticus, Asclepiodotus and Onasander. London 1923. On this sort of tees
KROMAYER-VEITH, Heerwesen und Kriegsfiihrung der Gr. u. R. Munich 1928, 9 (bibl. 17).
782
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

History of A. the Great 1. Brown Un. Pr. 1953. — Alexander-romance: Text:

W. KROLL, I. Recensio Vetusta. 2nd unalt. ed. Berl. 1958. Analysis and bibl. in
Merkelbach, v. p. 767, n. 2. Also a. MepDERER, Die Alexanderlegenden. Wiirzb.
Stud. 8. Stuttg. 1936. — Bibl. on various authors of this period: Fifty Years of
Classical Scholarship. Oxf. 1954, 186. Also L. PEARSON, The Lost Histories of
Alexander. Baltimore 1959. — E. KORNEMANN, Die Alexandergeschichte des Konigs
Ptolemaios I. von Agypten. Berl. 1935. — Phylarchus: J. KROYMANN, RE S 8,
1956, 471 ff. — Timaeus: T. s. BROWN, Timaeus of Tauromenium. Univ. of Calif.
Publ. in History 55, 1958. GU. MANSUELLI, Lo storico Timeo di Tauromenio.
Bologna 1958. — Polybius: A survey of the books preserved was given above.
For Books 1-5, transmitted almost completely, the most important manuscript
is the Vaticanus Gr. 124, written in 947. Critical editions: . HULTSCH, 4 vols.
(x and 2 in 2nd ed.) Leipz. 1870-92. TH. BUTTNER-WoBST, § vols, ( 1 in 2nd ed.)
Leipz. 1889-1904. Commentaries: F. W. WALBANK, A Historical Commentary on
P. I (Comm. on 1-6). Oxf. 1957. M. 1. FINLEY, The Greek Historians. The Essence
of Herod. Thuc. Xen. Polyb. New York 1959 (Selected passages with notes and
introd. ). Pp. PEDECH, Pol. Histoire. Livre XII. Texte établi, trad. et comm. Paris
1961. The old inadequate lexicon of J. SCHWEIGHAUSER (Oxf. 1822) is now
being replaced by A. MAUERSBERGER, Pol.-Lex. (1/1 and 2 (to ¢ )), Berl. 1956
and 1961. Engl. transl. in the biling. ed. of the Loeb Class. Libr. by w. T. PATON,
6 vols. 1922-27. Italian transl. by c. scHICK, 2 vols. Milan 1955. BE. MIONI,
Polibio. Padua 1949. K. ZIEGLER’s great RE article (21, 1952, 1440) is a thorough-
going monograph. M. GELZER, Uber die Arbeitsweise des P. Sitzb. Ak. Heidelb.
Phil.-hist. Kl. 1956/3. IRENA DEVROYE and LYSIANE KEMP, Over de historische
methode van Pol. Brussels 1956 (Kon. Vlaamse Acad. KI. d. Lett. 18/28). Further
bibl. in the notes.
Diodorus: the transmission differs for individual parts, concise survey in
CHRIST-SCHMID, Gesch. d. gr. Lit. part 2, 6th ed. Munich 1920, 409. Text: F.
VOGEL — C. T. FISCHER, 5 vols. (Bks. 1-20). For the remaining books the old ed.
by w. pinporg, Leipz. 1867/68. With English translation C. H. OLDFATHER,
R. M. GEER, F. R. WALTON, C. L. SHERMAN, C. B. WELLES, 12 vols. Loeb Class.
Libr. 1933 ff. JOHN SKELTON’s transl. edited by F. M. SALTER and H. L. R.
EDWARDS. I, Lond. 1956; 2, 1957. Of particular importance the great RE
article by scHwartTz (coll. ed. v. supra), 189, 109. AlsoJ.PALM, Uber Sprache und
Stil des D. von Siz. Lund 1955, who undertakes to establish Diodorus’ share by
comparing passages of Diodorus with available originals. G. PERL, Kritische
Untersuchungen zu Diodors rémischer Jahreszahlung. Berl. 1957.
Polemon: Important article by D. DEICHGRABER, RE, 21, 1952, 1288. -
Demetrius of Scepsis: good collection of the fragments R. GADE, Dem. Scepsii
quae supersunt. Diss. Greifsw. 1880. — Euhemerus: G. VALLAURI, Euemero di
Messene. Turin 1956 with introd. and comm.

9 THE SCIENCES

At the beginning of this book we observed that this history of Greek literature
could not be at the same time one of Greek science. This applies particularly to
783
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the Hellenistic age during which the divisions, which were growing increasingly
evident in the course of our study, finally became definite. In this context, too,
the sophists’ movement was the starting point and the Peripatos an important
stage. During the latter the separation of the individual disciplines made rapid
progress. Whereas Aristotle or Theophrastus had still been able to survey
numerous fields, it was only a matter of time until the special subject demanded
the specialized worker. The Hellenistic age allowed this development to run its
full course and completed, in the realistic attitude which is also one of its
fundamental features, the dissociation of the individual sciences from their
ancient maternal soil of philosophy. A third phenomenon, part of the same
development, is the technical treatise without any claim to literary merit. It was
discussed in earlier sections, but since the fourth century its output increased
until it became incalculable.! It increasingly took the form of controversies
within a circle of scientists and scholars, limited from the very outset.
What we observed in the realm of poetry and other literary activity is
repeated in a similar manner in that of science. Although something of impor-
tance was achieved for some time after the peak of the Hellenistic era, there was
a strong decline after the first two centuries; parallel with the development of
historiography, a period of industrious compilation succeeded that of productive
progress. Against the larger background of the history of science, the Hellenistic
age was of great importance, because it spurred science on quickly in many fields,
once it had been liberated from a priori speculation. Increased specialization was
an inevitable adjunct to this development. The Hellenistic age, and the following
centuries even more so, were fated, however, to lack the strength to collect
itself with new vigour, so that many intellectual structures remained standing in
their scaffolding. It was to be a long time before other workers mounted these.
In the framework of our study those parts of Hellenistic science demand our
attention whose subject is the literary tradition of the Greeks. In this respect we
only have to recall what has been stated before. In the section on transmission
(p. 3) the decisive importance was stressed of the Museum at Alexandria with
its gigantic library for the preservation and scholarly treatment of Greek
literature. Mention was also made of its links with the Peripatos. We add here
the name of Straton of Lampsacus, Theophrastus’ successor in the direction of
the school, to that of Demetrius of Phalerum. He was the teacher of Ptolemy II
and exerted a strong influence on Alexandrian science.? In this context it is not
without interest that Straton opposed the theory of the immortality of the soul.
We have also already heard of Alexandrian criticisms of Homer (p. 74 f.), one
of the most significant achievements of this circle of scholars. Then Callimachus
: :Dees ee Lehrbuch, Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Wissenschaften

2 ¥. WEHRLI, Die Schule des Aristoteles. 5. Basel 1950.

3 On the connection between the origin of critical philology and the anti-traditional
Lice ee ae agree oe Ausgew. Schriften. Munich 1960, 159, and
0 s. Fes yer. Ak. 1961, 5: philology is an institution of the poets. On
the participation of Alexandrian literary research by the Peripatos v. k. WEHRLI, Die Schule
des Aristoteles. 10. Basel 1959, 124.
784
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

gave us an opportunity (p. 703) to ascertain the succession of heads of the

library with the help of an important papyrus find. The result was the series
Zenodotus, Apollonius Rhodius, Eratosthenes, Aristophanes of Byzantium,
Apollonius the idographer! and Aristarchus.
The latter died in Cyprus, which fact is no doubt connected with the expul-
sion of Greek scholars by Ptolemy Physcon (the Paunch) in the year 145. This
ruler, who was neither without talent himself nor hostile to education, had come
into opposition against the intellectual leaders of the Greeks in the confusion of
the struggles for the throne. According to Athenaeus (4, 184 c), other parts of
the Greek world received a considerable influx of important scholars, but for
the operations of the Museum the intervention no doubt meant a severe setback.
Work was resumed quite soon, but now it was the work of assiduous followers.
Other centres of intellectual life such as Pergamum and Rhodes disputed
Alexandria’s hegemony. It receded to such an extent that it is difficult to tell how
greatly the library fire of the year 47 influenced local scientific and scholarly
work. It was not only Physcon’s measure which had such consequences; the
circumstance that the policy of the ruler rested predominantly on the non-
Greek elements was far more important. Thus the crown yielded to the growing
national consciousness of the indigenous population and there appeared a crack
in the wall which had long safeguarded a splendid isolation for the Greeks in
Hellenistic Egypt.
We have had to point repeatedly to the fundamental importance of Alex-
andrian scholars for the transmission. In this respect Aristophanes of Byzantium
should be singled out because of the versatility and circumspection of his work,
a distinction justified already by his achievement in the field of drama (v.
pp- 268; 449).
The specialization which we mentioned at the opening of this section was not
carried through in Alexandria as a rule without exception. It should be borne in
mind that Callimachus was the author of a tremendous scientific work, even if,
in our opinion, it is little more than a compilation. The versatility of his com-
patriot Eratosthenes of Cyrene is of a different nature, and therefore he deserves
further mention. According to Jacoby? his birth must be dated earlier than was
done so far, as early as the ’nineties. His work in Alexandria, which led to his
being called to the Library by Ptolemy III Euergetes in 246, was preceded by a
lengthy study period in Athens. Here he first attended Zeno’s lectures, but then
joined the opposition under Ariston of Chios (v. p. 674) and Arcesilaus of
Pitane (v. p. 685). He also wrote philosophical works, but nothing is known of
these. His important achievements are in other fields.
Of two of his poems? the contents can at least still be recognized. The hexa-
meter poem Hermes passed from the story of the god’s birth and youth to his
' As stated on p. 703, n. 2 the possibility of dating the idographer before Aristophanes
remains open.
2 On F Gr Hist 241 where the chronographical and geographical fragments are combined
with various other ones.
3 J. U. POWELL, Coll. Alex. Oxf. 1925, 58. Fasc. 6, 84 D. F. SOLMSEN, ‘Eratosthenes’
Erigone: A Reconstruction’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 78, 1947, 252.
785
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

ascent to Heaven, which led to a survey of the arrangement of the cosmos. The
god had invented the lyre and now heard in the planetary spheres the same
tones as those given forth by his instrument. The Erigone, which told the story
of the Attic peasant Icarius, was written in elegiac metre. Icarius had been given
the vine at the occasion of a visit by the god Dionysus, but he was killed by the
drunken peasants. His daughter Erigone hanged herself upon finding the corpse.
As far as we can see, Eratosthenes followed the poetical footsteps of Callimachus.
This agrees with the aetiological element; Erigone’s hanging founded the Attic
swinging festival (Acora); the killing of a goat which had nibbled of the young
vine leaves explained the custom from which, according to Hellenistic theory
(p. 229), tragedy had originated.
Since in both poems mortals were placed among the stars — in the Erigone it
was Icarius, his daughter and his dog — we add here the Catasterismi,’ a prose
work on the legendary origins of all the constellations. We possess an excerpt of
it which has been changed in various ways. Friedrich Solmsen? has shown that a
connection can be established between all the legends told by Eratosthenes and
his Platonic belief in the origin of the soul from the astral spheres.
As a poet Eratosthenes followed the course set by Callimachus, but as a
scholar he was far ahead of him. He described his scholarly position with the
word ¢AdAoyos, not, of course, in the modern sense, but rather to convey that
his purpose was to impart and explain a wide variety of facts. Thus in his work
On Old Comedy he occupied himself with a great many subjects of the most
varied nature, fertilizing the investigations of his successors like Euphronius (the
teacher of Aristarchus), Aristophanes and Didymus. His sound basic tenet that
the poet should above all affect the soul without wanting to teach (Strabo C.15)
placed him in opposition to Stoic allegory. In the same spirit he voiced his
splendid objection, ineffective up to the present day, against attempts to trace
Odysseus’ wanderings (v. p. 42).
Professionalenvy hung the epithet ‘Beta’ on Eratosthenes, because he remained
in a secondary position in his numerous spheres of activity. The injustice of this
criticism is revealed in two cases. In his Chronographiae, of which the Ol ympionicae
was a subsidiary subject of enquiry, he created the basis of Greek chronology
which Apollodorus could elaborate and which proved its efficiency in subsequent
times. Even though he was not one of the great mathematicians,3 it was his
achievement to create mathematical geography by the successful application of
exact knowledge. The three books of his Geographica were written in the new
scientific spirit. With him ancient geography reached a level which it did not
manage to maintain for long. Artemidorus of Ephesus, however, deserves to be
mentioned, who circa 100 improved his work in geography by travelling.
' The reconstruction is still doubtful. c. ROBERT, Eratosthenis Catasterismorum Reliquiae.
Berl. 1878. &. MAAS, Analecta Eratosthenica. Berl. 1883. A. OLIVIERI, Mythographi Graeci 3/t.
Leipz. 1897. G. A. KELLER, E. und die alexandrinische Sterndichtung (Diss. Munich) Ziirich
1946. On the transmission: J. MARTIN, Histoire du texte des Phénomeénes d’ Aratos. Paris 1956,
58.
7 v. p. 785, n. 3. Also id. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 73, 1942, 192.
> VAN DER WAERDEN. Science awakening. Groningen 1954, 228.
786
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

Eratosthenes’ most impressive achievement was his measuring of the sphere of

the earth’ about which he reported in a treatise Hepl 79s dvapetpicews Tis
yjjs). By measuring shadows with the aid of the gnomon (a peg in a hemi-
sphere) in Alexandria and Syene, after first measuring the distance between the
two places, he found a circumference of the earth of 250,000 stades. We cannot
state precisely how correct this was, because we do not know on what stadion
the calculation was based, but it remains an effort worthy of the highest
praise.
The most important successor of the great Alexandrian librarians, in particular
of Eratosthenes, was Apollodorus of Athens (F Gr Hist 244). He was born in
180; in Athens he attended Diogenes of Babylon, the pupil of Chrysippus; in
Alexandria he worked for many years with Aristarchus. From there the expul-
sion of the scholars probably brought him to Pergamum in the year 145. He
died in Athens between 120 and 110. Trained in the three great centres of
contemporary intellectual life, he owed his greatest debt to the Alexandrian
tradition of factual research founded on philosophy. This was the spirit in which
he wrote the twelve books of his Commentary on the Catalogue of Ships, while in
his Chronica (four books) he developed Eratosthenes’ Chronographiae in a way
which obscured the older work. Because it was the more readily memorized he
used the fluent iambic trimeter, but this does not make it permissible to think
that the work was didactic.* The chronology covered the period of the fall of
Troy (1184/83) up to 120/119. There are few works of that time of which we
should like to know more than the great On the Gods in twenty-four books.
Jacoby, whose treatment of these fragments, like everything in his great work,
is of outstanding value, has demonstrated the difficulties involved. Nevertheless,
it cannot be doubted that Apollodorus started from a definite notion of the gods,
on which his educational background must have had some influence. We may
also assume that his study of Greek religion was guided by the notion of develop-
ment. But we only get an impression of the ‘Alexandrian’ quality of his work,
the philological-historical basis, which rested on the mastery of a huge quantity
of material. The Bibliotheca, imputed to Apollodorus, has nothing to do with
him. It will be discussed presently. Castor of Rhodes (F Gr Hist 250) continued
work on the chronology of Eratosthenes and Apollodorus. He wrote a Chronica
(six books) from the Assyrian Ninus up to the settlement of conditions in Asia
Minor by Pompey (61/60).
Among the Alexandrians the study of language received the greatest attention.
It is therefore significant that their school initiated works on the systematic
approach to language which in turn contained, of course, Stoic, Peripatetic and
even older legacy. Dionysius Thrax (circa 170-90) was a pupil of Aristarchus
before he moved to Rhodes, probably on the occasion of the expulsion of the
1 a. ELTER’s lecture ‘Das Altertum und die Entdeckung Amerikas’. Rhein. Mus. 75, 1926,
241 is still worth reading.
2 G, NEUMANN, Fragmente von Apollodors Kommentar zum hom. Schiffskatalog im Lexikon
des Stephanos von Byzanz. Diss. Gott. 1953 (typewr.). Earlier (p. 238) mention was made of
remnants of a catalogue (Ox. Pap. 25, 1959, no. 2426), probably written in trimeters by
Apollodorus.
787
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

scholars by Physcon. His short Greek Grammar (Téxvy ypappatiKn),! the

oldest known, has been preserved, ‘a skeleton of divisions, definitions and
enumerations’ (Fuhrmann). An illuminating conjecture 1s that he linked up
directly with the Stoa. During the War of Mithridates his pupil, the elder
Tyrannion, came to Rome as a prisoner, where he gained great distinction as
the representative of Alexandrian philology. The younger Tyrannion carried on
his work there. Another pupil of Dionysius Thrax was Asclepiades of Myrlea,
who produced a systematic study of philology in addition to commentaries on
poets and historical work. The fact that he also worked in Rome for some time
is another indication of the direction of the development.
As in other fields, here, too, the gigantic industry of compilers brings the
Hellenistic age in a way to its conclusion. Didymus’ activity in this sphere was
quite astronomical, even if the 3500 books of the ancient tradition (Suidas et al.)
should be exaggerated.2 His importance for Homer has been assessed in an
earlier chapter (p. 76), and this applies to the greater part of ancient literature,
because he collected most of the Alexandrian commentaries in immense reser-
voirs, from which a variety of channels led to the later tradition. Parts of his
commentary on Demosthenes in a papyrus were mentioned earlier (p. 604).
Scholarly industry keeps a man healthy, and so Didymus, a contemporary of
Cicero, also witnessed part of Augustus’ reign.
Didymus’ contemporary Tryphon of Alexandria rounded off the studies of
dialects, diligently pursued by the Alexandrians, in treatises and lexicographical
works. It is doubtful whether the final portion of agrammar in a London papyrus
(no. 1208 P.) and a treatise On Tropes (Spengel Rhet. 3. 189) are his. Ox. Pap.
24, 1957, no. 2396 has now produced the title page of his treatise On the Dialect
of the Spartans.
Alexandria, which in the peak of the Hellenistic age maintained its central
position almost unrestrictedly apart from philosophy, had to tolerate important
rivals at its side in the further course of the development.? One of these was
especially Pergamum, which, through a skilful association with Rome and the
utilization of the conflicts of the Diadochi in Asia Minor, managed to establish
an important kingdom. The peace of Apamea (188) signified a considerable
step in this evolution, connected especially with the name of Attalus I and
Eumenes II. At this time the art of Pergamum reached the height of its splendour,
which is gloriously represented by the memorial of the Gauls and the altar of
Zeus. But the munificence of the Attalids also provided a well-appointed

' Edition: G. UHLIG. Leipz. 1883. Scholia: A. HILGARD, Gramm. Graeci 3, Leipz. rgor.
V. DI BENEDETTO, ‘Dionisio Trace e la techna a lui attributa.’ Annali Scuola Norm. Sup. di
Pisa. Ser. 2, 27, 1958, 169. 28. 1959, 87, who discerns in the surviving Téyv7 a compilation
and dates its main part in the 3rd or 4th century. Excellent treatment of the writing in
M. FUHRMANN, Das systematische Lehrbuch. Gottingen 1960, 29. 145. H. ROSENSTRAUCH,
De Dionysii Thracis grammatices arte’. Classica Wratislavensia 1, 1961, 97.
> M. SCHMIDT, Didymi Chalcenteri_fragm. Leipz. 1854.
3-R. STARK, Ann. Univ. Saraviensis. Philos.-Lettres 8, 1959, 41, 47, points out that the
direct tradition of Alexandrian grammarians’ industry can be followed up to the rst century
A.D., and mentions in this context Irenaeus, Tepl ’Arrixis cuvnbeas.
788
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

centre for science and study, probably in rivalry with Alexandria. The most
important figure among the Pergamenian librarians was Crates of Cilician
Mallos. In 168 we find him in Rome as Attalus’ envoy; here he gave a series of
lectures while nursing a broken leg.
Strabo (c. 30) calls Crates the greatest grammarian next to the Alexandrian
Aristarchus, but in spite of this similarity the two men were at the same time
sharply opposed. Suidas calls Crates a Stoic philosopher, which we need not
take too literally, but in his interpretation of the poets, especially of Homer, but
also of Hesiod, Euripides and Aratus, he adopted the method of allegorical
commentary which, though not a Stoic invention, was yet applied by them
with great industry. Another point at which Crates differed in his work from the
factual enquiry of the Alexandrians is that as a cosmologist' and geographer
Crates has obviously a penchant for speculation, for instance when he assumes
four continents distributed more geometrico over the surface of the earth. His
attitude to linguistic phenomena is of the greatest importance.? In this context it
is significant that Diogenes of Babylon (Seleucea), the writer of a Stoic grammar
(Ilepi dwr7js), was probably his teacher. In Aristarchus and Crates the contrast
between analogy and anomaly appears which henceforth dominated in the
ancient world not only grammar, but also such fields as medicine and juris-
prudence. Whereas Aristarchus’ school considered certain groups of forms as
paradigmatic and observed these as the norm in their processing of texts, Crates
conceded the anomalies which the observation of linguistic usage (cvv7Peva)
revealed to him. There were also mediators in this struggle such as Philoxenus
of Alexandria, who wrote his numerous works in the first century B.c. The
whole complex of problems was connected with the question, of the greatest
practical importance, how best to put into practice the demand of writing pure
Greek (EdAyvicpds). We refer to the fact that among the virtutes dicendi
taught by Theophrastus (v. p. 688) was ‘EAAnviopds. Inevitably the question
of the importance of Attic Greek emerged in this quest after pure Greek. It is no
coincidence that Crates wrote On the Attic Dialect. We are still a long way from
the Atticist crystallization of the Greek literary language, but nevertheless some
preliminaries for this fateful occurrence took place in the Hellenistic age.
We already saw that Rhodes was a centre of intellectual labour. Castor and
Dionysius Thrax wrote there, the names of Panaetius and Posidonius are con-
nected with the island; it numbered Cicero and Caesar among its students. We
do not have a great deal of information about Hellenistic rhetoric,? but we can
ascertain the important fact that in the second century Hermagoras of Temnos*
1 4. J. METTE, Sphairopoiia. Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie des Krates von Pergamon.
Munich 1936.
2 H. J. METTE, Parateresis. Halle 1952 with the passages. Important for Hellenistic linguistic
theory: H. DAHLMANN, Varro und die hellenistische Sprachtheorie. Problemata 5, 1935; the
article M. Terentius Varro in the RE S 6 1935, 1172; Varro de lingua Lat. VIII. Herm. E 7
1940.
3 Cf.r. GUNGERICH,
Der Hellenismus in der deutschen Forschung 1938-48. Wiesbaden 1956, 412
+ Extensive bibl. in p. MATTHIES, Hermagoras von Temnos 1904-1955. Lustrum 1958
1959. 58. 262.
2C2 789
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

gave it a firmer logical foundation with his status-doctrine in which he combined

into a system the essential points (etdéaes) which occurred in each individual
case. The Rhodian school of rhetoric made common cause with Hermagoras,
but it also included the question of style in its doctrine, and so offered increased
opposition to Asianism. Its most important representative was Molon, whose
teaching was of decisive influence on Cicero. The opposition to Asianism had a
considerable number of representatives in this period, but, as in the case of
Aeschylus of Cnidos, they are mere names.
The influence of the status-doctrine was extraordinarily persistent.! There were
Hermagoreans until late in antiquity. Several Latin revisions can be observed.
The subscriptio to Iulius Victor’s Ars Rhetorica proves that he used Hermagoras.
Codex Parisinus 7530 contains a mutilated excerpt of a Latin version.? The
fragment De Rhetorica left by Augustine utilizes and quotes Hermagoras.
Rhetoric was taught everywhere. A certain Gorgias of Athens, the teacher of
Cicero’s son, wrote a compendium on figures of speech (Ilepi oxnudtawyv), which
he illustrated with examples from classical and Asianic authors. P. Rutilius Rufus
used it as a basis for his work De figuris.
At no other stage of their intellectual history did the Greeks progress so far in
the field of exact science as during the Hellenistic age. Its precursor and warranty
of this development was the royal science of mathematics, one of the noblest
growths on Greek soil. Significantly there is, in the early Hellenistic age, a
compilation of the rich material which had been acquired in the preceding
period, especially within the circle of the Academy. Consequently the basis was
laid for further progress, but also for its application in other branches of science.
As early as the reign of Ptolemy I, Euclid (whose origin is unknown) compiled
his thirteen books of Elementa (Xrovyeta) which have been preserved together
with an abundance of commentaries.? The Elementa, which in its construction
and classical method of proof is a didactic masterpiece, was used until very
recently in Britain as a school textbook. While the Vaticanus Gr. 190 (oth c.)
only represents the old tradition, the other textual evidence goes back to an
edition by Theon of Alexandria, who belonged to the local Platonic school in
the fourth century a.p. Euclid’s Data (AeSojéva) is contained in his edition as
well as in an older one; this work is important for the development of algebra.
The transmission of the Optica has a similar twofold distribution. Numerous
other works are lost. Of the one On Divisions (of figures)* the propositions at
least have been preserved in Arabic.
' K, BARWICK, * Augustins Schrift de rhetorica und Hermagoras von Temnos’. Phil. 10s,
1961, 97. 2 ALM, Rhet. Lat. Min. 585.
3 Edition of Euclid: J. L. HEIBERG and H. MENGE, 8 vols. Leipz. 1883-1916 (with Latin
transl.). In vol. 5 books 14 and 15 of the Elementa, late appendices of Hypsicles of Alexandria
(2nd century B.c.) and Isidorus of Miletus (6th century a.p.). Engl. transl. of the Elem. with
notes: TH. L. HEATH, 3 vols. 2nd ed. Cambr. 1926; repr. 1956. P. VER EECKE, Euclide: l’Optique
et la Catoptrique. Survey with introd. and notes, Bruges 1938; repr. Paris 1958. B. J: DIJKSTER-
Huis, The First Book of Euclid. El. with Glossary. Leiden 1955. M. STECK, ‘Die geistige
Tradition der frithen Euklid-Ausgaben.’ Forsch. u. Fortschr. 31, 1975, 113.
* R. C. ARCHIBALD, Euclid’s Book on Divisions of Figures. Cambr. 1915.
790
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

The greatest mathematician of antiquity, Archimedes of Syracuse (287-212),

studied in Alexandria, but spent the rest of his life in his native city. His fame
rests on a twofold foundation, firstly on his achievements as an engineer who
constructed the waterscrew which was so important for irrigation-plants,
machines for aimed missiles and for the moving of heavy loads, and supported
the defence of his city against Marcellus (212) with unusual war-machines. He
was killed at the fall of Syracuse, according to the well-known anecdote — noli
turbare circulos meos — in the middle of learned work. In the second place Archi-
medes lives on as a writer of mathematical works of fundamental importance,
not a few of which have been preserved.! Here we shall merely refer to the
Psammites, which solved the problem of large numbers, so difficult for the
Greeks, by calculating the grains of sand which would fill up the cosmos, and
the work on rotating bodies allied with the three conic sections (Ilepi Kwvo-
evdewv Kal odapoedéwv), which shows his complete mastery of the doctrine
of conic section. Of particular importance is the treatise on methodology,
extracted in 1907 from a Jerusalem palimpsest (Ilepi r@v pnyarixdv Oewpnyud-
twv pos ’Epatoabévny éfodos), which proves that Archimedes anticipated the
integral calculus.? This stubborn genius did not write in Koine, but in his native
Doric dialect which, however, has become somewhat faded in the course of the
transmission. Archimedes’ own appreciation of the two sides of his activity,
according to Plutarch (Marcellus 17) is of the greatest importance, not only for
an evaluation of the scientist himself, but also for the whole of contemporary
science. For him his skill at engineering was only a by-product of his work; he
saw as its essence the intellectual mastery of the problems.
The doctrine of conic sections, which can be traced back to Menaechmus
(p. 543), was given form and systematic presentation in the Conica in eight books
by Apollonius of Perge in Pamphylia. His activity was divided between Alex-
andria and Pergamum, which proved its ambition in this field, too. The first
four books are preserved in the Greek text in Eutocius’ edition (6th c.); they are
also linguistically interesting evidence for Koine. The three following books are
in an Arabic translation. Of the lost works a treatise on the foundations of
geometry is of particular interest; remnants of it are preserved in Proclus’
commentary on Euclid.

1 Edition: J. L. HEIBERG, 2nd edition 3 vols. Leipz. 1910-15 (with Latin transl. and
scholia). Engl. transl. with excellent introd.: TH. L. HEATH, The Works ofA.Cambr. 1897
with suppl. 1912, now in the Dover Edition New York, 3 vols. 1956. HEATH transposed
Archimedes into modern mathematical formulae. Best study with survey: £. J. DIJKSTER-
HuIS, Archimedes. Copenh. 1956. Id. Archimedes. The Arenarius. The Greek Text with
Glossary. Leiden 1956. P. VER EECKE, Les euvres completes d’ Archimeéde. Trad. avec une introd.
et des notes. Suivies des Commentaires d’ Eutocius d’ Ascalon. 2 vols. Vienna 1961.
2 Other works preserved: Iepi ofaipas Kai Kvdtvdpov. KvKAov pérpno.s. mept laoppomidr.
Tlepi édikwv. tetTpaywricpos trapaBoAjs. Ilepi rév dyoupévwy. Lropdxvov. The mpoBAnya Boerkov
is a riddle in distichs. The A7jmpara (auxiliary propositions), preserved in Arabic transl.,
contains some fragments of Archimedes.
3 Greek text in J. L. HEIBERG, 2 vols. Leipz. 1891/93 (with Latin transl.). Engl.: TH. L.
HEATH, Cambr. 1896; repr. 1959. With a Latin transl. of the Arabic books (5-7): B. HALLEY,
Oxf. 1710.
791
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The cardinal problem of Hellenistic astronomy was accurately designated by

Sosigenes, the teacher of Alexander of Aphrodisias,1 of whose theory of the
spheres we have excerpts in Simplicius. He argued that the assumption of
Eudoxus and his numerous followers of homocentric spheres could not account
for a whole series of phenomena which were already known then. The time was
ripe for the bold step of Aristarchus of Samos. His work falls within the first half
of the third century, the peak of the Hellenistic age. Straton of Lampsacus, the
Peripatetic physicist (v. p. 688), was his teacher. Aristarchus conceived the
heliocentric system in its entirety. The fact that it did not gain ground, that we
only know of Seleucus of Seleucea (150 B.C.) as the champion ofhis doctrine, is
connected with the deep roots which the geocentric system and spherical
astronomy had in the religious thought of the age. The protest raised by the
Stoic Cleanthes against Aristarchus is significant. Ofthe great astronomer swork
only the small treatise On the Size and Distance of the Sun and the Moon (Ilept
peyed@v Kal droatnpatwyv nAtov Kat ceAnvns)* has been preserved.
Important astronomers attempted to deal with the anomalies observed on the
basis of the geocentric theory of spheres. The mathematician Apollonius was
the originator of the theory of epicycles which assumed an additional circular
movement round a centre located in the main sphere, Hipparchus of Nicaea
(middle 2nd c.) tried to apply this theory combined with the eccentricity of the
main circle. The exact knowledge which he obtained of the position and move-
ment of stars, of precession and eclipse, in spite of incorrect basic hypotheses and
inadequate instruments, merits the highest esteem. Only his early treatise with
a polemic against Aratus (Tay ’Aparov Kat Evddéou dawopévwr e&nynats)3
has been preserved. Hipparchus no doubt worked with material obtained from
Babylonian astronomical observation. On the other hand, we see Babylonian
astronomy flourish anew in the schools of Borsippa, Sippara and Uruk in the era
of the Seleucids.4 There was a brisk exchange of influence. Hipparchus’ main
geographical work was one in three books which critically challenged Eratos-
thenes. Much of this can be traced in Strabo, probably also the title [pds
thy ’Epatoabevous yewypadiav.5
Numerous diligent workers rowed in the wake ofthe great ones. We mention
Hypsicles of the first half of the second century, in whose treatise On the Rising
of the Stars ’Avaopixéds)® the division of the ecliptic into 360° is found for
' Another Sosigenes advised Caesar on his reform of the calendar, cf. A. REHM, RE A 3,
1927, 1157. On the problems indicated here: J. MITTELSTRASSE, Die Rettung der Phanomene.
Berlin 1963.
* TH. L. HEATH, A. of Samos, the ancient Copernicus. A History of Greek Astronomy together
with A.’s Treatise on the Sizes and Distances of the Sun and the Moon. A New Greek Text with
Transl. and Notes. Oxf. 1913; repr. 1959.
3 Edition: K. MANITIUS, Leipz. 1894. On Hipparchus’ catalogue ofstars: Ex 7@v ‘Inmdpyou
mept Tav aorépwv in Catal. Cod. Astrolog. Gr. 9/1, Brussels 1951, 189.
4 J. BIDEZ, ‘Les Ecoles chaldéennes sous Alexandre et sous les Séleucides.’ Annuaire de
Institut de philol. et d’hist. orient. 3, 1935, 41. G. SARTON, ‘Chaldaean Astronomy ofthe last
three centuries B.c.’. Journ. Am. Or. Soc. 75, 1955, 166.
5D. R. DICKS, The Geographical Fragments of Hipparchus. Ed. and transl. with an introd.
and comm. Lond. 1960. ® K. MANITIUS, Progr. Dresden 1888.
792
 CHE HELLENISTIC AGE

the first time. Next, at about the same time, Theodosius of Bithynia wrote his
Sphaerica' and Geminus (first half of the first century B.c.) his Introduction
(Eicaywy1 eis ta Parvdpueva),? in which the epitome of a commentary by this
Rhodian Stoic on Posidonius’ [lept petedpwv has been preserved.
We spoke of the creation of mathematical geography as one of the greatest
achievements of Eratosthenes. Posidonius’ many-sided interests in the descrip-
tion of foreign countries were also mentioned before, while many references
were made to geography in the chapter on Hellenistic historiography. We
further recall that the Hellenistic Greeks gained access to a translation of Hanno’s
report of his bold voyage along the west coast ofAfrica} (v. p. 219). Mention is
also made of the wholly unliterary Periplus maris Erythraei, which is valuable
because of the anonymous writer's open mind, and of the travelling impressions,
written like a kind of tourists’ guide book, by a certain Heraclides Criticus
(transmitted Creticus) which gives the most faithful reflection ofconditions in the
late third century.* Artemidorus of Ephesus, who wrote circa 100 B.C., was
an independent geographer. His native city sent him to Rome as an ambassador
and long journeys brought him to many places in the inhabited world. The
results of his experiences and studies were collected in a work of eleven books
which was probably entitled Tewypadovpeva.
The technical development for which in the Hellenistic era mathematics and
mechanics opened up vast possibilities, proceeded in two different directions;
on the one hand it was, as always, in the service of warfare, on the other it ended
in all kinds of ingeniously contrived trifles. We see hardly any attempts to
replace human labour with machines, to mechanize in the modern meaning, and
when we do observe it, as in the case of Archimedes’ screw, we know hardly
anything about its application. Various factors prevented the realisation of a
technical development which could have influenced the economy and changed
the face of the era. The possibility of exploiting human labour to the utmost at
the slightest cost removed any stimulus for the development of the machine.
Moreover, the men who possessed this technically useful knowledge were
fellow-travellers of Plato’s, devoted to pure knowledge, as in the case of
Archimedes.
Much of what the technology of the third century achieved in the two
directions indicated, war and games, is connected with the name of Ctesibius,
who worked under Philadelphus. Most of what we read in Hero must be date
t J. L. HEIBERG, Abh. Gott. Ges. Phil.-hist. Kl. N.F. 19, 1927; contains also Theodosius’
treatise Ilepi otkjoewv edited by E. RECHT. Hepl vuxrav cal jepav has now been published
in a Latin transl. by G. AURIA, Rome 1951. The Fr. transl. of the Sphaerica by Pp. VER
EECKE with introd. and notes. Bruges 1927; repr. Paris 1959.
2 K, MANITIUS, Leipz. 1898 (with transl. and comm.). E. J. DIJKSTERHUIS, Gemini ele-
mentorum astronomiae capita I. II-VI. VIII-XVI. With a Glossary. Leiden 1957.
3 Geogr. Graeci Min. 1, 1. W. ALY, Herm. 62, 1927, 321. R. GUNGERICH, Die Kiisten-
beschreibung in der gr. Lit. Miinster 1950, 17. L. DEL TURCO, Periplus Hannonis. Florence 1958.
Transl.: 0. SEEL, Antike Entdeckerfahrten. Ziirich 1961 (Lebendige Antike).
4 Comm. ed. of the Periplus, also comprising the Koine of the treatise, by H. PRISK,
Goteborgs Hégskolas Arrsskrift 33/1, 1927. GUNGERICH (v. prev. note), 18. — F. PFISTER, Die
Reisebilder des Herakleides. Sitzber. Ost. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 227/2, 1951 (with comm.).
793
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

in the same epoch. At the time torsion artillery with its bundles of twisted
ligaments began to supplant the primitive bow-projector. Improvements in
many details were also effected in the technique of siege-warfare and defence,
which had already been highly developed during the fourth century. Athenaeus,
the mechanical engineer, whose date wavers between the Hellenistic era and the
empire, gives some information in his treatise Ilepé pnyavnpatwr; likewise
Biton, who dedicated his work on war machines and catapults to Attalus I or
II.! Fire-engines and water-organs are considered to be Ctesibius’ special
achievements; he spent much wit and trouble on the refinement of the water-
clock and fitted it out with a contrivance for announcing the hour. Ctesibius
worked a great deal with compressed air, and even attempted to construct an
airgun. The use of steam, of which we learn in Hero, is the most impressive
proof of how close these scientists came to inventions ofthe greatest importance.
Even though their inventions did not go beyond the stage oftoys, these bore the
seeds of the future when we see that motion was produced by means of escaping
steam.
We have no work of Ctesibius. His follower Philo of Byzantium wrote a
Mechanics (Mnyavixn odvragis, eight books), of which the fourth about engines
_ of war has been preserved, and a few scraps in a Latin and Arabic translation.?
We are well provided with works of Hero of Alexandria, who reviewed the
whole field of mechanical engineering without blazing any new trails himself.
His date presents a difficult problem; nowadays it is preferred to put him late in
the first century a.D., if not even after Claudius Ptolemy, rather than in the
Hellenistic era.3 The portions of his work which have been preserved* clearly
reveal the two directions of Hellenistic mechanical engineering indicated before.
Ballistic engines (BeAomowxa) and lifting machines (BapovAkés) are dealt with,
while other works like the two books Pnewmatica describe a large range of
mechanical toys; his own treatise (Ilepi adropatomoutixfs) introduces the
construction ofa small automatic theatre. The Dioptra describes a sophisticated
sighting instrument and in an appendix an automatic road-measuring instrument
which could have saved the surveyors in Alexander’s retinue a great many foot-
steps to be counted. Whenever Hero may have lived, it is Hellenistic technology
that he reflects, limited, even at its zenith, both in achievement and dures:
Very little worth while was done in the Hellenistic age to follow up either
Aristotle’s zoological or Theophrastus’ botanical studies. Activity in the sphere
of medicine was all the brisker. During the peak of the Hellenistic era, especially

' Both by c. wescuer, Poliorcétique des Grecs. Paris 1867. R. SCHNEIDER, Gr. Poliorketer.
Abh. Gott. Ges. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1908-12.
* Book 4 and fragments: R. sCcHONE, Berl. 1893. H. DIELS and E. SCHRAMM, Abh. Ak.
Berl. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1918/16 and 1919/12. The Pneumatics after the Arabic: CARRA DE VAUX
Notices et extraits 38. Paris 1902.
3 Bibl. in REHM-VOGEL (v. sup.), 74. VAN DER WAERDEN (0. Pe 7 SOs n 8) e277 Osu
* Edition: w. SCHMIDT-L. NIX-H. SCHONE-J. L. HEIBERG, Leipz. Pioguion: E. M.
BRUINS, Heron. Metrica. Codex Constantinopolitanus, Palatii Veteris 1, containing Heron’s
ae in Facsimile, Transcription of Text and Scholia, with Transl. and Comm. Janus Suppl. 2.
1960.
794
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

during the reign of Philadelphus, two great physicians were active, Herophilus
of Chalcedon and Erasistratus of Iulis in Ceos. Both founded influential schools.
Their common characteristic was a resolute application to anatomy, which
could now base itself to a great extent on section, sometimes even on vivisection
of criminals. Aristotle’s notion of the heart as the central organ became obsolete,
to be replaced by the correct appreciation of the function of the brain. Hero-
philus elaborated, for instance, the observations of the pulse of his teacher
Praxagoras, and divided the nerves into sensory and motor.! Whereas he
retained the doctrine of the humours as the basis, Erasistratus abandoned it and
joined the side of the Pneumatics, probably under Diocles’ influence (p. 577).
His connections with the Peripatos through his teacher Metrodorus and the
; nysicist Straton are also important. The most serious obstacle to the discovery of
the circulation of the blood was that he separated the arteries as channels of the
pneuma from the blood-carrying veins.
It should not be overlooked that these two important men of science did not
eventually succeed in introducing anatomy into Greek medical science. H. E.
Sigerist? compares the way in which it dwindled at the start with Aristarchus’
inability to win general recognition for his heliocentric system, and points out
that the two most successful medical schools in antiquity, the one of the
Empiricists, which will be discussed presently, and the Methodic school, which
flourished in Rome, denied the principle that anatomy was of medical use. It is
still important to realize that the ancient civilized peoples studied anatomy as
part of natural history, but did not make it the basis of a medical system. And so
the important finds of Greek research in this field were not of real benefit to
medicine. One wonders if a parallel can be drawn with the great mathematical
achievements of Greek workers and the absence of any sizeable related technical
development.
It was typical of the Hellenistic age that in the middle of the third century
Philinus of Cos dissociated himself from his teacher Herophilus to found, under
the influence of the scepticism of Pyrrhon of Elis and Timon of Phlius, the
empirical school, which tended to be a trend (aywy7)) rather than a school. In
open rebellion against the primacy of the Logos, every dogmatic basic concept
was rejected, also the direction of medical research connected with aetiology.
Only the results of experience were valid, and the method resulting from this
was the collecting of experience. Side by side with Philinus, Serapion of Alex-
andria is mentioned as its founder. There were some distinguished advocates of
this system, such as Heraclides of Tarentum in the first century B.c. and Apollo-
nius of Cition, whose commentary in three books on Hippocrates’ Ilepi dpOpwv
has been preserved.
« The discovery of the nerves as an anatomically tangible reality has a prehistory going
back to the philosophical speculations of the Presocratics. This is shown by F. SOLMSEN,
‘Greek Philosophy and the Discovery of the Nerves.’ Mus. Helv. 18, 1961, 150.
2 ‘Die historische Betrachtung der Medizin.’ Arch.f.Gesch. d. Med. 18, 1926, 1 (esp. 13).
Also important ‘Die Geburt der abendlindischen Medizin’ in Essays on the History of
Medicine. Pres. to Karl Sudhoff. Ziirich 1924, 185.
3 H. ScHOngE, Leipz. 1896.
195
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

For the general bibl. we refer to p. 222, and give some additions here. There are
useful references in H. BENGTSON’s Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 445.
Special bibl. in y. Mau, Der Hellenismus in der deutschen Forschung 1938-48.
Wiesbaden 1956, 149. Extensive summaries by J. L. HEIBERG, Gesch. d. Math. u.
Naturwiss. im Altertum. Munich 1925 (Handb. d.Altertumswiss. 5/1/2), the excellent
outline with copious bibl. of A. REHM and K. VOGEL, Exakte Wissenschaften,
Leipz. 1933 (Einl. in die Altertumswiss. 2/5, 4th ed.) and 8. FARRINGTON, Greek
Science, Lond. 1953. Further: C. MARSHALL, Greek Science in Antiquity. New
York 1955. Histoire générale des sciences, publiée sous la direction de René Taton. I,
Paris 1957; in this work J. 1rARD treats mathematics, J. BEAUJEU medicine in the
Hellenistic and Roman eras. G. SARTON, A History of Science I. Hellenistic
Science and Culture in the last three Centuries B.C. Cambr. Mass. 1959. On
mechanical engineering: A. G. DRACHMANN, Ktesibios, Philon und Heron. Acta
Hist. Scientiarum Natur. et Medic. 4. Copenhagen 1948. On mathematics: TH. L.
HEATH, A History of Greek Mathematics. 2 vols. Oxf. 1921. K. REIDEMEISTER, Das
exakte Denken der Griechen. Hamb. 1949. 0. BECKER, Das math. Denken der
Antike. Gott. 1957 (Studienh. zur Altertumswiss. 3). PER WALDAL, Das Sieb des
Eratosthenes. Eine Studie iiber die natiirlichen Zahlen. Dielsdorf 1960. A useful work
for source material with Engl. transl. is vor THOMAS, Selections illustrating the
History of Greek Mathematics. 2 vols. Loeb Class. Libr. 1951. — Technology:
H. DIELS, Antike Technik. 3rd ed. Leipz. 1924. F. M. FELDHAUS, Die Technik der
Antike und des Mittelalters. Potsdam 1931. Id., Die Maschine im Leben der Volker.
Basel 1959. D. A. NEUBURGER, Die Technik des Altertums. Leipz. 1929; Technical
Arts and Sciences of the Ancients. Lond. 1930. H. STRAUB, Die Geschichte der
Bauingenieurkunst. Basel 1949. — Medicine: K. DEICHGRABER, Die griech. Em-
pirikerschule. Berl. 1930. G. SPANOPOULOS, Erasistratos. Der Arzt und Forscher.
Abh. zur Gesch d. Med. u. Naturwiss. H. 32. Berl. 1939. P. DIEPGEN, Gesch. d.
Medizin 1. Berl. 1949. — Editions and bibl. on the individual authors given in the
notes.

I0 PSEUDOPYTHAGOREAN LITERATURE

We follow up the discussion of the sciences with a survey of writings whose

nature is utterly unlike the spirit of Alexandrian scholarship. They reveal,
however, that broad substratum which, though it may have been present all the
time, rises to the surface with increasing vigour in the latter period of the
Hellenistic era. Holger Thesleffand Walter Burkert have done excellent research
into these writings and clarified their context within the Hellenistic world,
The tradition that the school of Pythagoras died out after a few generations
goes back to Aristoxenus of Tarentum.? This has been accepted by modern
' H. THESLEFF, An Introduction to the Pythagorean Writings of the Hellenistic Period. Acta
Academiae Aboensis Humaniora 24/3, 1961; with copious bibl. w. BURKERT, ‘Hellenistische
Pseudopythagorica’. Phil. 105, 1961, 16. 226. Id., Weisheit und Wissenschaft. Studien zu
a Philolaos und Platon. Erlanger Beitr. zur Sprach- u. Kunstwiss. to, Nuremberg
962.
* Fr. 18 Wehrli. Diog. Laert. 8, 46. Iambl. Vita Pyth. 251; also Diod. 10. 10, 2; 15. 76, 4.
796
 THE HELLENISTICG AGE

history of philosophy, which dates its end soon after the middle of the fourth
century. Consequently, when Neopythagoreanism was vigorously propagated
from the first century onward, especially in Rome, by Nigidius Figulus and then
by the Sextii, it could be aptly described as a renovatio, the term used by Cicero
(Tim. 1). These are facts which are beyond doubt, but they raise the question
whether there had been any link between the old and the new Pythagoreanism.
Zeller and Carcopino have voiced opinions which are diametrically opposed.
Zeller held that, although Pythagorean philosophy did not survive the middle
of the fourth century for long, the religious movement persisted in cult-
communities with an Orphic mystical background. Carcopino,? however,
argued that there never was a break in the Pythagorean tradition, but he was
unable to refer to corroborative material for the Hellenistic age. The merit of
both scholars is that they emphatically drew the Pseudopythagorean writings
into the context of this complex of questions. Thesleff contributed an astonish-
ingly voluminous catalogue which lists the few surviving fragments as well as the
large number of attested writings of this kind.‘ It is certain that many of them
were written in a literary Doric, so that within limits they provide material to
study the development of a Doric prose style. Excluding the doubtful éyovre
of Alemeon of Croton (VS 24 B 1), it began with Philolaus of Croton at the
end of the fifth century and lasted until the middle and latter part of the third
with Archimedes’ mathematical writings. Thesleff wrote its history in a
valuable chapter of his book; it led, for instance, to the ‘Dorification’ of the
Ionian Pythagoras.
It was of supreme importance for this question that it was realized that a large
number of Pseudopythagorean writings must be dated as early as the Hellenistic
era, especially in the third and second centuries, in spite of the late chronology
advocated so far. The main points only can be mentioned here, the rest can be
found in Thesleff, who is also preparing a Corpus of these compositions.
Ancient tradition’ reports that Pythagoras did not commit his doctrine to
paper, but made it only accessible to initiates by instruction. This is the back-
ground to a letter under the name of Lysis, probably the Pythagorean who
escaped the catastrophe of Croton and later was the teacher of Epimanondas.
Copernicus and Matthias Claudius® translated the letter; it combined exhortation
and instruction about the Pythagorean mode of living, which postulates a
t Thus E. ZELLER in his Philosophie der Griechen 3/2, sth ed. Leipz. 1923, 103.
2}. CARCOPINO, La Basilique pythagoricienne de la Porte Majeure. Paris 1927. On the
problem of the Pythagorean character of this subterranean place of worship bibl. in
BURKERT (V. sup.), 227, 2.
3 BURKERT notes correctly (v. sup.), 230, that the attempt of Cc. LASCARIS COMNENO and
A. MANUEL DE GUADAN, ‘Contribucion a la historia de la difusion del pitagorismo’. Rev. d.
filos. 15, Madrid 1956, 181 to infer the existence of Pythagorean congregations from the
diffusion of the pentagram, has completely miscarried.
+ Older surveys of the Pseudepigrapha in UEBERWEG-PRAECHTER, Philosophie des Alter-
tums, 14th ed. Basel 1957, 45, and B. ZELLER, Philosophie der Griechen 1, 7th ed. Leipz. 1923,
366 and 3/2, sth ed. Leipz. 1923, 92. IIS.
3 The passages in E. ZELLER (v. sup.) 1, 7th ed. Leipz. 1923, 409, 2.
6 Reference in BURKERT (v. sup.), 18, 2.
wei
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

purification of the soul, with an attack upon Hipparchus, who had broken
Pythagoras’ command of secrecy by philosophizing publicly. Of the two variants
of the letter, one in Iamblichus’ Life ofPythagoras (75-78) and another transmitted
in epistolary collections (Hercher, Epistologr. 601), only the latter contains
references to Hypomnemata which Pythagoras left to his daughter. Burkert has
produced circumspect and shrewd arguments to prove that in all likelihood the
second version is the original, contrary to the prevailing view, and that its
purpose was to introduce the Hypomnemata which were published as Pythagoras’
philosophy. According to the contents of Lysis’ letter, which presupposes a rigid
secrecy maintained so far, this forgery must be older than three very popular
books which were also ascribed to Pythagoras, the so-called Tripartitum:
Paedeuticum, Politicum, Physicum. Burkert has shown that it is likely, at least as
likely as anything can ever be in these extraordinarily difficult questions, that the
Hypomnemata are the ones which Alexander Polyhistor (F Gr Hit 273 F 93)
excerpted. He dates them in the third century, but after Aristotle, for very good
reasons; the Tripartitum, on the other hand, he allots to circa 200 B.c. Thesleft,
who worked independently, came to an approximately identical date.
Pythagoras himself was supposed to have written a ‘lepds Adyos in hexa-
meters and a ‘lepds Adyos mepi Gedy in Doric prose. Two treatises under other
names have been transmitted complete, under the name of Ocellus! of Lucania
the tractate On the Nature of the Universe (Ilept tis Tob mavtos dUcews), dated
by Harder in the second century B.c., but possibly much older. It shows a
strongly Peripatetic trend. It has been transmitted in Koine, but was originally
written in Doric, like Ilepi puyas koopw Kai dvavos,? attributed to Timaeus of
Locri, who was separated from him by a long time and mainly drew on Plato’s
Timaeus.
To fit this type of literature into the history of ideas, Burkert has made an
important comparison with approximately contemporary work, such as the
treatise of Nechepso-Petosiris (v. p. 698) or the Pseudodemocritean literature,
to which Bolus of Mendes, whom Suidas calls a Pythagorean, contributed. It
was not all pure Pythagorean that concealed itself under the name of Pythagoras
and those of his adherents. Even the present concise review reveals the con-
siderable influx of Platonic and Peripatetic elements. This apocryphal literature
presented a pseudo-science sprung from philosophy, in which a trend towards
the irrational sought a legitimate way to express itself with a semblance of
profundity. It is the stirring of the same powers which at all times competed with
the exact sciences and serious philosophy by adopting their rivals’ arguments to
ensure success. And so the Pseudopythagorica discussed here form part ofa sort
of pseudo-philosophical Koine. Obviously they have nothing in common with
the cult and the community of the Pythagorean conventicles, and Burkert’s

" The form of the name is uncertain, but Occelus and Ocelus have also been transmitted.
On this and also on the relation with Eccelus, cf. rR. BEUTLER, RE 17, 1937, 2361. The
writing has been excellently dealt with by R. HARDER, N. Phil. Unt. 1, 1926. Also W. THEILER,
Gnom. 2, 1926, 585.
2 Cf. R. HARDER, RE 6 A, 1936, 1203.
798
 THE HEU LENTSOLe AGE

phrase goes straight to the heart of the matter: ‘In the Hellenistic age there is a
deluge of Pythagorean literature, but there are no Pythagoreans.’
To illustrate the relation of this sort ofliterature with science here follows one
example which was interpreted by Burkert. C. Sulpicius Gallus, who fought in
the battle of Pydna in 168 as a military tribune, wrote a book on astronomy.
Pliny (Nat. Hist. 2. 84) quotes from it that Sulpicius stated, in accordance with
Pythagoras, that the distance from the earth to the moon amounted to 126,000
stades, that from the moon to the sun twice as much, from there to the Zodiac
the triple distance. In an ingenious paper Burkert has shown that various sources
lead to a treatise of the middle period of the Hellenistic age which had appro-
priated the name of Pythagoras. This was the source of Sulpicius’ figures.
Burkert also argued plausibly that in the same treatise the image ofthe music of
the spheres as the gamut of the astral bodies was given concrete shape and linked
with the determination of the distances which separate the constellations. This
gamut of the spheres occurs first to our knowledge in Alexander of Ephesus,
nicknamed Lychnus, of whose didactic poem with its geographical and astro-
nomical orientation some fragments have survived.! The most astonishing point
was already observed by P. Tannery:? the number of 126,000 stades which
forms the basis of the celestial distances indicated is precisely half of the earth’s
circumference calculated by Eratosthenes. Thus one of the greatest achievements
of Alexandrian science in this field was traduced into the foundation of acosmic
system which, with its amateurish mathematical dilettantism, was utterly
ignorant of contemporary astronomical lore.

II JEWISH-HELLENISTIC LITERATURE

The Jews played an important part in the medley of races in the cosmopolis of
Alexandria. Even during the pre-Hellenistic centuries they had migrated to
Egypt; now the rapid growth of the centre of Ptolemy’s realm brought new
groups of their people to the Nile. Of the five urban sectors of Alexandria two
were considered to be Jewish, and Philo (In Flacc. 43) gives the number of one
million for the Jewish population in Egypt. Alexandria represents an interlude
in the antagonism between the tendencies to be assimilated and the forces of
orthodox strictness which controlled the history of Jewry. Its special character is
the reason for its insertion in the history of Greek literature. Some of the
phenomena of the early empire will be included in this section.
To a large extent the Alexandrian Jews had lost the knowledge of Hebrew. It
became necessary to translate the Scriptures, if knowledge of them was not to
1 Ref. in BURKERT (v. sup.) 32, 1; cf. p. 752.
2 Recherches sur Vhistoire de l’astronomie ancienne. Paris 1893, 332.
3H. I. BELL, Jews and Christians in Egypt. Lond. 1924. Id., Juden und Griechen im rom.
Alexandreia. Beih. z. Alt. Orient 9, Leipz. 1926 (with bibl.). v. A. TCHERIKOVER in collab.
with A. FUKS, Corpus papyrorum Iudaicarum 1. Harvard 1957 (in the introd. a history of the
Jews in Egypt). Id., Hellenistic Civilisation and the Jews. Transl. by s. APPLEBAUM. Phila-
delphia 1959. TH. BOMAN, Das hebrdische Denken im Vergleich mit dem griechischen. 3rd ed.
Gott. 1959. M. HADAS, Hellenistic Culture, Fusion and Diffusion. New York 1959. The work
by TH. REINACH, Textes d’auteurs grecs et romains relatifs au Judaisme. Paris 1895, to be repr.
by Olms/Hildesheim.
799
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

be restricted to a narrow circle. This need produced the Septuagint. We have the
propagandist report about its origin in the Letter of Aristeas to Philocrates,' of
the late second century B.c. Both the persons mentioned in the title and the
contents are fictional. According to it Ptolemy sent for seventy-two learned men
from Jerusalem at the instigation of the librarian Demetrius of Phalerum (who
never had this function and who fell into disgrace at the accession of Ptolemy
II); these scholars, who were highly esteemed by the king, completed the trans-
lation of the Torah in as many days.
According to the prevalent belief the Pentateuch was translated in the third
century; various translations of parts may have been made earlier which were
combined in the Septuagint. In the course of about the next hundred years the
remaining writings of the Old Testament canon also found their way into the
Greek bible.
Modern research? into the language of the Septuagint has strongly reduced the
importance of the Semitic element in its stylistic and semantic character, but
has, on the other hand, placed more stress on its Greek Koine nature.
The limits of the Old Testament canon as laid down by the synagogue were
not felt to be equally obligatory throughout Hellenistic Jewry. Consequently,
supplements to the canonical books and independent writings found their way
into the Greek bible. Here we shall mention only a few examples from a richly
developed and much varied literature. The Prayer of Manasse may serve as a
model of original Greek writings, while the book of Jesus Sirach with its
proverbial wisdom represents the far more extensive group of translated litera-
ture. The writer’s grandson, who came to Egypt in 132 B.c., translated it soon
afterwards.
The two first Books of the Maccabees, which could be dated at the turn of the
second and the first centuries, claim a special place in this literature as notable
historical sources. The first was translated from the Hebrew, the second appears
to be an excerpt from the work ofJason of Cyrene in five books. It is probable
that both original and epitome are of Greek origin. The two reports, which
differ in many respects, contain one of the most important sections of the history
of the Jewish sacerdotal state. In 200 it came under the rule ofthe Seleucids, who
at first did not interfere with its special religious and cultural character.
Antiochus IV Epiphanes was the first to break it up and to make Jerusalem into
a Greek city. The substitution of the worship of Jahwe in the temple by that of
Zeus Olympius in the year 167 meant the climax of a Hellenization for which
to a certain extent the soil had been prepared in the higher classes. In Jesus
Sirach and in the book of the prophet Daniel we hear voices raised in warning
' Edition of the work which is also important for Koine by Pp. WENDLAND, Leipz. 1900.
Edition with Engl. transl.: M. HADAS, New York 1951. Engl. transl. by J. THACKERAY, 2nd
ed. Lond. 1917. H. G. MEECHAM, The Letter of Aristeas. A Linguistic Study with Special
Reference to the Greek Bible. Manchester Un. Pr. 1935. B. H. STRICKER, De brief van Aristeas.
Verh. Kon. Nederl. Acad. Afd. Lett. N.R. 62/4. 1955/56. G. ZUNTZ, ‘Zum Atisteas-Text’.
Phil. 102, 1958, 240. Id., ‘ Aristeas-Studies’ I. Journ. of Semitic Stud. 4, 1959, 21. II. Ibid. 109.
2 B. SCHWYZER, Griech. Gramm. 1. Munich 1939, 126; bibl. on Pp. 117; also R. MEISTER
*Prolegomena zu einer Gramm. der Sept.’. Wien. Stud. 29, 1907, 228.
800
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

against this movement. The victory went to the adherents of the ancient faith
and the old ways, who were led by the family of the Maccabees. As early as 164
Judas Maccabaeus could perform the new consecration of the temple and so
start the development which within a few decades led to the complete liberation
from Seleucid rule. This also determined the course of the Jews; one consequence
was that Jewish Greek literature remained an episode. The translation of the Old
Testament, the pride of the Alexandrian Jews in whose name the anonymous
author behind Aristeas speaks, was disavowed and rejected. What we possess of
Jewish Greek literature we owe to the stream of the Christian tradition.
The Third Book of the Maccabees has an entirely different content. In a fabulous
manner it relates the story of the attempt made by Ptolemy IV Philopator on the
temple in Jerusalem and the persecutions of the Egyptian Jews under this ruler.
The Fourth Book of the Maccabees stands completely on its own. It was written
a good deal later, perhaps not long before the destruction of Jerusalem, and
contains a diatribe which develops the Stoic principle of the rule of reason over
emotion, illustrated with examples from Jewish history. The work was at one
time attributed to Josephus. The second part with the description of steadfast
martyrs of the faith is a notable example of the Asianic style.'
A rare item of popular propaganda literature can be added here. Papyrus finds
(no. 1732-1744; 1740 a- 1743 a P.) have revealed texts which extend from the
time of Caligula to that of Commodus.? These fictional records present envoys
from Alexandria, which feels that it is being elbowed aside in the world, who
speak with astonishing freedom in front of Roman emperors. The point of the
discussions is that the leaders of the Alexandrian Greeks have to defend them-
selves in Rome on account of their hostility to the Jews of the city, but this
opportunity serves to air the hostile sentiments of the Greeks against the Romans.
Among the Jews there was also hate and contempt for the new mistress of the
world. Impressive evidence for these feelings is found in the voluminous collec-
tion of Sibylline Oracles,3 comprising fourteen books. This monstrous corpus
has a long history. It begins in the Greek sphere with the words of Heraclitus
(VS 22 B 92) of the Sibyl, whom the god impels to speak the untrimmed,
unvarnished and plain truth. This figure probably came to the Greeks from the
east; from Asia Minor, where it found a firm foundation, especially in Erythrae,
it spread vigorously. It often had an important connection with the cult of
Apollo. Varro (in Lactant. Div. Inst. 1. 6) drew up a sort of canon of the ten most
famous Sibylls. Cumae and the role of the Sibylline books in Rome can only be
recalled in passing. Finally Jewish and Christian propaganda took over the shape
and style of this prophecy. The collection preserved combines the results of an
1 £. NORDEN, Die antike Kunstprosa. 1. 4th impr. Berl. 1923, 418.
2 Bibl. in P(ack), further Cambr. Anc. History 10, 1934, 929. H. FUCHS, Der geistige
Widerstand gegen Rom in der antiken Welt. Berl. 1938, 57. H. 1. BELL, Journ. Rom. Stiga oi,
1941, II. H. BENGTSON, Griech. Gesch. 2nd ed. Munich 1960, 509. H. A. MUSURILLO S.J.,
The Acts of the Pagan Martyrs. Oxf. 1954 (complete collection of texts and comm.).
3 a. KURFESS, Sibyllinische Weissagungen. Munich 1951 (Tusculum-Biicherei), a selection
with transl., comm. and a section about the subsequent influence. On p. 364 editions and
bibl. For the anti-Roman passages cf. the book by Fuchs mentioned in previous note.
801
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

event which occurred mainly in the later Hellenistic era and the first century of
the empire. Older oracular utterances were sometimes included or imitated.
The analysis of the elements is a difficult task. The editor of the Corpus prefixed
a prologue to it which proves to be largely an excerpt of the so-called Tiibingen
theosophy.! Since this belongs to the fifth century a.D., the compilation of the
collection preserved took place in late antiquity.
In conformity with the pattern of Jewish Sibylline fiction, orthodox doctrine
in verse was assigned to various Greek poets, among which the fictional poems
of Orpheus were naturally not absent.
Matters are different where Jewish authors used the Greek forms to report or
glorify the history of their people. The dramatist Ezechiel (v. p. 745) can serve
as a good example of agroup of authors. In Book 9 of the Praeparatio Evangelica
of Eusebius several hexameters of a Jewish history in epic form by Philo the
Elder and Theodotus have been preserved. As a prose-writer we add Demetrius,
who wrote On the Kings in Judaea during the reign of Ptolemy IV. The Bible,
which he used in the version of the Septuagint, was his basis. A work of the same
title by Eupolemus is about half a century older, but the remnants reveal that
for propaganda purposes he permitted himself considerable liberties with the
biblical tradition. This brings us to the Jewish historians, of whom remnants of
the excerpts made of them by Alexander Polyhistor (F Gr Hist 273) give us some
idea. We discern (F 19) an Artapanus who combined Jewish tradition with
Egyptian Hellenistic material in order to prove the precedence and greater age
of the achievements of his own people. Alexander Polyhistor (F 102) bears
witness to a similar mixture and trend in Cleodemus, also called Malchus. The
writer of the Letter to Aristeas obviously also belongs in this group.
The most peculiar occurrence in this context was the controversy between the
Jewish religion and Greek philosophy. Aristobulus remains a shadowy figure.
In the second century B.c. he wanted to prove, if we may rely on the evidence,
by means of an allegorical exegesis of the Old Testament, that it was the source
of Greek philosophy. The authenticity of the fragments has often been doubted
and many critics have been inclined to consider his work as a Christian forgery,
but they have not succeeded in finding conclusive proof.
The most important representative of Alexandrian Jewry, Philo of Alexandria,
is known to us through a relatively large number of surviving works. He came
of a rich family connected in many ways with distinguished Romans of the time.
His date is known through the embassy which went to Rome from Alexandria
in the winter of the year 39 A.D. to obtain a decision of Caligula in the conflict
between Jews and Greeks. At the time Philo was the leader of the Jewish section
of the embassy and describes himself in his report on the mission as one advanced
in years.
Our notion of Philo’s intellectual world has become a great deal more pro-
found lately, not least through the work of Hans Leisegang. No justice is done
to Philo by ranking him with the Hellenistic Jewish authors who wanted, for
the sake of propaganda, to derive everything foreign from their own doctrine.
' K. MRAS, Wien. Stud. 28, 1906, 43. H. ERBSE, Fragmente griech. Theosophie. Hamb. 1941.
802
 THE HELLENISTIC AGE

Philo’s Hellenism is not a subsidiary component of his intellectual struc-

ture, but the firm basis of his argument with the religious tradition of his own
people. He does not adduce philosophical doctrines, because he needs them for
certain purposes, but with his erudition it is a necessity for him to think in their
categories.
It is therefore likely that Philo’s development led from the philosophy of the
Greeks to the theology of his own people. In the same way his writing may be
assumed to have begun with a series of philosophical essays which proclaim, in
addition to his mainly Stoical attitude, his familiarity with the forms of Greek
philosophy. Two of the earliest works, preserved in an Armenian translation,
have the forms of dialogues. In both Philo converses with his nephew Alexander.
In the first, called after this kinsman, they discuss the question whether animals
have reason; in the second On Providence a cardinal notion of Stoic doctrine is the
topic for debate. The writing On the Indestructibility of the Universe (Ilept ad-
Aapotas Kopov) isa torso, the first part of which defends the indestructibility of
the universe in opposition to the Stoa. As in the final sentence an exposition of
the opposing argument is promised, the most likely solution is, in spite of all
deletions and attempts to find an explanation, that Philo himself gave a synopsis
of the arguments of the opposition which he refuted, or intended to refute, in
a second part. The treatise On the Freedom of the Morally Excellent (epi rod
mavta oovdatov elvar é€Aevbepov) carried the Stoic principle in the title
itself.
Philo’s presentation of the Jewish religion is also guided by his philosophical
education. What matters to him, imbued as he is with the spirit of Jewish
monotheism and convinced of the importance of the law, is not prejudiced
propaganda, but to approach the tradition of his people intellectually by means
of philosophy. The chief work of this group is the book On the Creation of the
Universe (Ilept rijs kata Mwvcéa xooporroitas), a collective picture of Philo’s
creed which is not without Platonic features. Of the biographies of the patriarchs
who confirm the law by the example of their lives, only the ones of Abraham
and Joseph have been preserved. These are joined by an essay On the Decalogue,
while the special provisions of the Mosaic law are laid down in four books," On
the Individual Laws (Ilept r&v ev péper dvatayparwr).
Side by side with these there are writings in which the aim to awaken an
understanding for the Jewish religion in wider circles is more evident. Much of
this is lost, such as the Apology (Azrodoyia treép "lovdaiwr); the Biography of
Moses (Iepi Biov Mwvaéws), which is akin to the genre of Greek philosophers’
lives, has been preserved.
Philo devoted a large part of his life’s work to exegetical writings on the
Pentateuch. He did not envisage a commentary following the Bible verse by
verse. The Allegorical Expositions of the Holy Law (Nopwv tepdv adAnyoptar) are
separate essays which deal with individual passages in the Bible. There is also a

t On the difficult transmission (in most manuscripts the four books have been taken to
pieces and the separate parts have been given special titles) v. CHRIST-SCHMID-STAHLIN,
Gesch. d. griech. Lit. 2/1, 6th ed. Munich 1920, 641.
803
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

complete series of tractates. Independent of the rest there is a work in five books,
On Dreams, which investigates the various kinds of dream images, verifying
them with examples taken from the Bible. We have a large part of a second
commentary on Genesis and Exodus in an Armenian translation with some
Greek and Latin fragments; it was probably meant to encompass the whole
Pentateuch.
Philo employed in his work the method of allegorical exposition in various
degrees but on a uniform basis. It had been known to the Greeks for a long time,
but he himself had learnt it especially from the Stoics.
Philo does not only reveal his familiarity with the doctrines of philosophy and
his ability to operate with them, but his writings also permit insight into an
event of the greatest significance in the history of ideas.' In Alexandria especially
the philosophical tradition, in which Platonic elements were pressing vigorously
and permanently to the foreground, came into contact with the world of the
mystery religions. In the course of this clash and the resultant mutual influence,
the philosophical search for God adopted numerous mystical notions (a trend
which Plato had sponsored), while on the other hand these notions were given
a new context. The enlightened vision of God becomes the proper aim of man’s
life, proclaimed by the various doctrines in externally differing, but funda-
mentally similar, ways. In Philo the Old Testament doctrine of revelation has
been drawn within this intellectual sphere, but in many ideas and images the
anticipation of the Gnosis cannot be denied.
Two writings dealing with the controversy with Rome are of importance for
Philo’s biography and the history of the Alexandrian Jews. The one Against
Flaccus puts up the prefect of Egypt, A. Avilius Flaccus, as an example of the
providence which watches over the Jews. The governor, originally a good man,
persecutes the Jews after Caligula’s accession, but soon afterwards he is banished
and dies a shameful death. The report On the Embassy to Gaius (DiAwvos rept
apeT@v mpa@tov 6 €att THs abtod mpeoBeias pds Vdtov),? describes in the
surviving torso the grievous experiences of the embassy which took Philo to
Rome to see Caligula in the year 39. The anti-Jewish group of Greeks was
represented by Apion, the pupil and adoptive son of Didymus, a guill-driver
who claimed to be following the line of Aristarchus’ scholarship without
having the ability. In addition to grammatical writings he produced an Aegyptiaca
in five books.
Philo’s language is as greatly influenced by Greek tradition as is his thought.
His style is without Semitisms, and we do not even know if he was fluent in
Hebrew. His vocabulary attests his wide reading. He made use of rhetorical
1 This has been shown by ANTONIE WLOSOK in the penetrating chapter on Philo in her
book Laktanz und die philosophische Gnosis. Abh. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1960/2, 48. She
traces the course of these notions in the Hermetical Gnosis, Clement and Lactantius. In
preparation: F. N. KLEIN, Die Lichtterminologie bei Philo v. Al. und in den hermetischen Schriften.
Untersuchungen zur Struktur der Sprache der hellenistischen Mystik.
* A reconstruction of the lost second part which also justifies the title of the surviving
section, is given by H. LEISEGANG, ‘Philon’s Schrift iiber die Gesandtschaft der alexandri-
nischen Juden und den Kaiser Gaius Caligula’. Journ. of Bibl. Lit. 57, 1938, 377.
804
 LHE HELLENISTIC AGE

ornamentation and Attic colouring, as shown, for instance, by his copious use
of the optative, but generally his is the dry style of the scholar.
Since with Philo we have entered the era of the empire, we can also make
room for the most important Jewish historian, Josephus. He was born in
Jerusalem in A.D. 37/38 of a distinguished priestly family. In the year 64 he came
to Rome for the first time. Here he gained access to Poppaea, Nero’s consort;
but the revolt in Galilaea (66) found him on the side of his compatriots in a
position of leadership. In the year 67 he became a Roman prisoner, but was
acquitted two years later by Vespasian, to whom he had prophesied the imperial
crown. Since then he called himself Flavius. During the siege and capture of
Jerusalem he was in Titus’ camp, then lived in Rome for a long time engaged in
literary activities; he probably died soon after the turn of the century.
In the seven books On The Jewish War he goes back in the introductory parts
to the conflict of the Jews with Antiochus IV Epiphanes, but he mainly describes
the events of which he had been an eye-witness. The work was originally
written in Aramaic and then was translated, not without assistance, into
Greek. In spite of all his attempts to write in a relaxed style with rhetorical
ornamentation, Josephus was never able to hide the fact that Greek was not his
mother-tongue.
We know that another Jewish historian and contemporary of Josephus,
Justus of Tiberias, also wrote a History of the Jewish War, in which he criticized
Josephus’ presentation. The latter retorted with his Autobiography (Iworou
Bios). But his main concern was to justify his loyalty to the Romans, and this
gives to part of the treatise the displeasing effect which political justifications are
generally wont to have.
Josephus’ chief work is his Jewish Archaeology in twenty books, of which the
first eleven relate ancient Jewish history, mainly according to the biblical
tradition, but with much freer invention and ornamentation, while the rest of
the work was carried on to the era of Nero, drawing on a variety of historical
sources.
However much value Josephus may have attached to his good relations with
the Romans, he never lost sight of the aim of Jewish apologetics. The treatise
Against Apion entirely serves this purpose, but also in other works this aim is
time and again discernible.

Bibl. on Philo in £. R. GoopENOUGH, The Politics ofPhilo Iudaeus. New Haven

1938. Bibl. also in a. wLosox, Abh. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1960/2, 50, 1.
The authoritative edition is the one by L. COHN, P. WENDLAND and S. REITER,
6 vols., with an index-vol. by H. LEISEGANG. Berl. 1896-1930. In the introduc-
tion the copious transmission which varies from work to work has been
presented; it is finally traced back to the library of Caesarea. Editio Minor in
6 vols. Berl. 1896-1915. R. BOX, Phil. Alex. in Flaccum. Oxf. 1939 (with comm.).
r. caviou, Phil. d’Alex. La migration d’ Abraham. Sources chrétiennes 47. Paris 1957
805
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

(bilingual with comm.). &. MARY SMALLWOOD, Phil. Alex. Legatio ad Gaium.
Leiden 1961 (bilingual with comm.). Papyri: no. 1056-1059 P. With Engl.
transl. F. H. COLSON and G. H. WHITAKER, Loeb Class. Libr. to vols. and 2 suppls.
Lond. 1929-62. German transl.: L. COHN and J. HEINEMANN, 6 vols. Breslau
1909-38, repr. 1960. Fr. transl. R. ARNALDEZ, J. POUILLOUX, CL. MONDESERT,
Les euvres de Phil. d’ Alex. publiées sous le patronage de [ Univ. de Lyon. 1 (Introd.
De opificio Mundi); 9 De agricultura, Paris 1961. Latin translations of the works
preserved in Armenian by J. B, AUCHER, Venice 1822 and 1826. The Quaestiones
et solutiones in Genesim et Exodum now in English by r. MARCUS, 2 vols. Loeb
Class. Libr. Lond. 1953. For the fragments the edition of TH. MANGEY, Lond.
1742 is still important; also J. R. HARRIS, Fragments of Ph.J. Cambr. 1886. Edition
of the Armenian writings by F. c. CONYBEARE, Venice 1892. —- A good mono-
graph is represented by the RE article (20, 1941, 1) by H. LEISEGANG. Further:
J. HEINEMANN, Philons griechische undjiidische Bildung. Kulturvergleichende Unter-
suchung zu Philons Darstellung der jiidischen Gesetze. Breslau 1932. Repr. with
appendices in prep. by Olms/Hildesheim. M. POHLENZ, Ph. von Alexandreia.
Nachr. Ak. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1942, 409. H. A. WOLFSON, Philo. Foundation of
Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity and Islam. 2 vols. Cambr. Mass. 1948.
K. BORMANN, Die Ideen- und Logoslehre Phil. von Alex. Eine Auseinandersetzung
mit A. H. Wolfson. Diss. Cologne (typescr.) 1955. A.-J. FESTUGIERE, La Révéla-
tion d’Hermes Trismégiste, 3rd ed. 2, Paris 1949, 519-72. E. BREHIER, Les idées
philosophiques et religieuses de Phil. d’ Alex. Paris 1950. H. THYEN, Der Stil der
jiidisch-hellenistischen Homilie. Ein Rekonstruktionsversuch. Forsch. zu Rel. u. Lit.
des Alten u. Neuen Test. 47. Géttingen 1955 (On Philo’s allegorical commentary
on Genesis). J. DANIELOU, Phil. d’Alex. Paris 1958.
Josephus: The basic critical edition is by B. NrEsE, 7 vols. Berl. 1887-95; ed.
minor in 6 vols. Berl. 1888-95; 2nd unalt. ed. Berl. 1955. On the basis of Niese’s
recensio: S. A. NABER, 6 vols. Leipz. 1888-96. With Engl. transl. H. sv. J.
THACKERAY R. MARCUS, A. WIKGREN, L. H. FELDMAN, 8 vols. Loeb Class. Libr.
Lond. 1926-64. Against Apion: TH. REINACH and L. BLUM, Coll. des Univ.
de Fr. 1930 (bilingual). Autobiography: A. PELLETIER, ibid. 1959. O. BAUERNFEIND
and o. MICHEL, Flav. Jos. De bello Jud. 1 (libri 1-3). Bad Homburg 1960
(biling. with comm.). - Transl. with introd. by 4. CLEMENTz, Gesch. d. jiid.
Kr. Cologne 1959; Die jiid. Altertiimer. 2 vols. Cologne 1959. W. WHISTON, The
Life and Works of Flav. Jos. Philadelphia 1957. M. HENGEL, Die Zeloten. Arbeiten
zur Gesch. des Spatjudentums und Urchristentums 1, 1961 (with critical appraisal
of Josephus as a source). — Lexicon: H. ST. J. THACKERAY and R. MARCUS,
4 fasc. (A—Ey). Paris 1930-55.

806
 CHAPTER VII

The Empire

A Poetry
Before beginning a survey of Greek literature during the empire, we refer to the
plan of this book as outlined in the introduction, in which it was explained why
a different standard is set for this section and why a brief survey will have to do.
There can be no question of making a detailed study of the many authors and of
lost and largely insignificant works; we shall, however, trace the two opposing
trends of development which characterize this epoch between the fall of
Alexandria (30 B.c.) and the closing of the university of Athens by Justinian
(529, the year of the founding of Monte Cassino). On the one hand there was a
process of fossilization, brought about not only because the wells of vigour had
dried up, but also as a result of the principles of a rhetoric controlled by classi-
cism. On the other there arose a new world of ideas influenced by the Orient
developing side by side with the irresistible advance of Christianity, which it
approached internally even when repudiating it outwardly.
The period of more than five hundred years which this section comprises
brought many changes of fortune to the Greeks inhabiting the great empire.
Some brief remarks will have to suffice.1 Ancient Greece became even less
important than during the Hellenistic age. Though Athens had its Hadrianic
renaissance, though Sparta could at least preserve the appearance of its ancient
forms in peace into the third century and even if trade was a little brisker in a few
places like Nicopolis, Corinth and Patrae, silence generally sank over the Greek
districts which had belonged to the senatorial province of Achaea since 27 B.c.
Large areas were suffering from depopulation, and the poverty of many a shrine
bore witness to the prevailing economic distress.
In Egypt the Romans took over the bureaucracy of the Ptolemies in order to
exploit the land on behalf of Rome. Although among the class of ‘those of the
gymnasium’ Hellenistic culture lived on with relative vigour, the universal
importance of Alexandria was a thing of the past; it was this very city which
became the centre of anti-Roman sentiment; in the previous chapter we men-
tioned the ‘Acts of Pagan Martyrs’ as evidence of these sentiments. The Greek
cities in Asia Minor developed more peacefully and so they formed the centres of
Greek cultural life in the empire. In this area the tendency of the emperors to
make the city a strongpoint of Roman rule worked out particularly successfully.
1 Authoritative M. ROSTOVTZEFF, The Social and Economic History of the Roman Empire.
Oxf. 1926. Bibl. in the Cambr. Anc. Hist. 10, 1934, 922 ff.; 11, 1936, 914 ff. U. KAHRSTEDT,
Das wirtschaftliche Gesicht Griechenlands in der Kaiserzeit. Kleinstadt, Villa and Domdane. Diss.
Bernenses Ser. 1/7. 1954.
807
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

There was no risk in granting municipal freedom to the cities, combined with a
semblance of the ancient autonomy of the Greek city-states. The eyes of Rome
were everywhere, and her hands were ready to intervene swiftly if things went
against her will. To the cities larger territories with village settlements were
joined where possible. Here a middle class developed which had made its
fortune in commerce or agriculture; with much circumstance, but very often
also with real devotion, these people took an interest in municipal duties such as
building, worship, the gymnasia and games and, in times of emergency, the
supply of wheat and oil. This is the class on which Roman rule rested and which
at the same time remained the actual bearer of Hellenistic culture. Dedicatory
poems and epitaphs, which occur so often in the inscriptions of this era, testify
more or less aptly to the educational zeal of this class.
It is impossible to overlook the dark side of this system. A deep abyss
separated the mass of the have-nots from the small number of the well-to-do;
there were strong tensions in the social structure which easily exploded into
disturbances in times of economic recessions. The circumstance that Rome
depended on the propertied class meant a heavy burden, however, which at
times threatened its very existence. In addition to the demands made upon the
rich for their own community, those of the state became increasingly heavy.
Egypt with its elaborate system of liturgies served as a model for compulsory
tasks which were increased to an unbearable degree from the second century
onward. The journeys of the emperors and their officials, liability for the
gathering of taxes, enforced tenure of fallow land and other things consumed
their substance and imperilled the economic and social structure. The attitude of
individual emperors had, of course, a great influence on the social position and
conditions of life of the Greek element. The variations were considerable. The
first emperors were generally friendly to the Greeks (Alexandria is a special
case); this tendency reached its climax in Nero’s artistic activities and the
theatrical declaration of freedom of the Greeks, copied from Flamininus. The
Flavians looked more to the west; of the Greek opposition, which was vocal
especially under Domitian, something will be said in connection with Dion of
Prusa. Trajan and Hadrian brought the great change. The wars of the former
against the Dacians and the Parthians created new opportunities for commerce
with the east, and Hadrian’s passionate philhellenism assured Greek culture of
the first place in the empire. This provided the conditions for its flourishing in
the time of the Antonines (138-180), a flourishing which represents the cultural
climax of the epoch summarized here. But the picture changes already at the end
of the second century; in the unhappy third century its features became particu-
larly dismal. Epidemics and famines followed by social disturbances, afflictions
from barbarian hordes, exploitation by the overlords, who needed money for
their wars, destroyed a great deal of the prosperity of the preceding period and
struck a grievous blow at cultural life. The reign of Gallienus (260-268), who
approached the Greeks through their religion, especially through the Eleusinian
mysteries, was a beneficial time for the Greeks. His reign coincides approximately
with the last decades of the life of Plotinus. Diocletian (284-305) created entirely
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 THE EMPIRE

new conditions; in his bureaucratic state the last vestiges of the autonomous
polis were finally wiped out. Constantine’s edict of tolerance of 313 and the
founding of the city named after him, the new Rome on the site of ancient
Byzantium, represent new turning-points in a development which allowed
ancient Greece to fade away and led up to the threshold of the Byzantine era.
With some simplification it could be said that the great genres of Greek
poetry lost their inner life and meaning in the opposite order of their genesis.
At the end of the Hellenistic age information about dramatic poetry in the
ancient forms becomes scarce. There was apparently an attempt to revive drama
in the time of Hadrian, but this did not last long. Any tragedies written in the
first few centuries of the empire were probably meant to be read. Romans also
tried their hand at it; we know that Asinius Pollio and the younger Pliny wrote
Greek tragedies. But this form of literature was outdated, and this is clearly
revealed by the information which attests its decline. According to Dion of
Prusa (19. $), part of the iambic passages were performed in the theatre, but the
choral lyrics were neglected. An inscription’ of the first half of the second
century A.D. found at the Isthmus reveals how bits from ancient tragedy were
served up for a show. It honours a certain C. Aelius Themison, who borrowed
from Euripides, Sophocles and from Timotheus, the composer of nomes, for his
own compositions. This highlights the problem of what is meant by the state-
ment that Nero, according to Suetonius (Nero 21), “sang tragedies’. It is
difficult to answer the question to what extent these were passages from classical
tragedies or products of the imperial dilettante himself.?
The theatricality of such solo-scenes could not command a very wide
audience; the mime held practically undisputed sway on the stage. Its beginning
goes back a long way (v. p. 240) and the Hellenistic age already saw it make
vigorous progress. The few names and papyrus fragments at our disposal have
little bearing on the enormous output in this ephemeral genre. Much of it
must have been mere improvisation. Philistion of Nicaea, who lived at the
time of Augustus, remained famous until the end of antiquity. We have four
versions of a Comparison of Menander and Philistion (Mevdvépou kai Dicotiwvos
avy«pwots)* with aphorisms in his name; its authenticity is very doubtful. No
less uncertain is the link which it has been attempted to establish between
Philistion and the Philogelos, a collection of jokes of late antiquity,5 with all kinds
of itinerant narrative material and humorous stories of the Scholasticus, the
absent-minded but sometimes pointedly witty scholar.
Among the remnants of mimes Ox. Pap. no. 413 (no. 1381 P.)® is the most
important. The papyrus contains, partly even in two versions, a play with
numerous characters which imitates the Iphigenia in Tauris in the most barbaric
1 K, LATTE, ‘Zur Geschichte der griech. Tragédie in der Kaiserzeit’. Eranos 52, 1954, 125.
2 Cf. a. LESKY, Ann. de I’Inst. de Philol. et d’ Hist. Orientales et Slaves 9, 1949, 396.
3 Convenient summaries in 0. CruSsIUS, Herondas. sth ed. Leipz. 1914. D. L. PAGE, Lit.
Pap. Lond. 1950, 328. P(ack) no. 1380 ff. and 1892 ff. For general bibl. v. p. 749.
4 w. STUDEMUND, Index Lect. Vratislav. 1887. Ww. MEYER, Bayer. Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 19/1,
1891.
5 Ed. by A. EBERHARD, Berl. 1869. 6 PAGE (vy. p. 757, 0. 1), 336.
809
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

fashion. Charition, a young Greek woman, has fallen into the hands of bar-
barians on the coast of the Indian Ocean. The king wishes to sacrifice her to
Selene, but her brother, who has arrived by ship with other Greeks, saves her
after making the barbarians drunk. A comic character and barbarian stammering
(many try to recognize echoes of an Indian dialect) provide some coarse and
primitive humour. The conclusion shows metrical forms in sotadean, iambic and
trochaic verse. The second text in this manuscript is as little edifying and no less
interesting. In eight scenes, linguistically expressed very concisely and composed
with dramatic skill, a debauched woman condemns to death a slave because he
denies her his services; she wants to poison her husband and though she seems to
be successful in everything at first, in the end she fails. The conjecture that one
actress, the archimima, played all the parts has much in its favour. The papyrus
was written in the second century A.D.; the texts cannot have been much older.
Another fragment of a mime in a London papyrus (no. 1383 P.)! is worth
mentioning because of its motley metrical form; here a young girl seems to have
got into the sort of trouble which we know from New Comedy.
The nature of the pantomime and its flourishing during the empire has
already been discussed (p. 749). To the Pylades mentioned there we add the
Alexandrian Bathyllus for the early empire; in contrast with the former he
became famous through mimic dances of a comic nature. Admiration for stars
is timeless; even in the fifth century a certain Caramallus was an idol both for the
Greek east and the Latin west.
As far as we can judge, lyrical poetry occupied a minor place in the literature
of the time, even if we include the epigram as a subjective utterance. Neverthe-
less, a fairly great activity is displayed in this sphere which reflects in its various
aspects very faithfully the ups and downs during the centuries of the empire. At
the end of the section in which we covered the history of the epigram up to
Philodemus,? we already referred to Crinagoras as an innovator. This poet from
Mytilene, who was sent by his city to Rome as an envoy in 45 and 25 B.c. and
who was a client of Octavia, Augustus’ sister, introduced a new trend in epi-
grams by stepping outside the ancient circle of themes into the whole sweep of
daily life. The work of such poets as Antipater of Thessalonica, the friend of
L. Calpurnius Piso, or of Philip of the same city, whom we met as the collector
of a ‘garland’ (p. 741), echoed Augustan cultural policy in its bucolic idyllic
features, in the praise of the heroic past or of the splendour of Rome. Under
Nero a certain Lucillius developed elements of ox@xus which also occurred
earlier in this genre, into a concise epigram mocking social classes and types.
We know almost nothing of his life (he is not the grammarian of Tarrhae), but
we venture the conjecture that Italian delight in caricature played a part as well.
This kind of epigram was perfected by Martial.
This same epoch reveals serious marks of senility in epigrammatic poetry;

' PAGE (v. sup.), 366.

> P. 741 on the origin of collections of epigrams, also editions and bibl.
* Important for his connections with Greek: K. PRINZ, Martial und die griech. Epigram-
matik. Vienna 191t,
810
 THE EMPIRE

Leonidas of Alexandria wrote epigrams whose lines produced equal numbers if

the letters were assumed to be numerical symbols (éody~nda); Nicodemus of
Heraclea wrote epigrams which could also be read backwards (avaxvKAuKd).
The Indian summer of Greek literature under Hadrian also produced the
collection of epigrams of Straton of Sardes found in Book 12 of the Anthologia
Palatina. Love of boys is the main theme of these poems which combine elegance
and precision of form with a primitive sensuality. Balbilla, a lady-in-waiting of
Hadrian’s consort, wrote epigrams of which some were scratched on one side of
the Memnon column in Upper Egypt.
In this sphere the third century also remained almost completely mute. In the
fourth Christianity already begins to use this form (for instance Gregory of
Nazianzus, to mention one), but the end of antiquity brings a very vigorous late
flourishing of pagan epigrammatic literature. Palladas, a poor schoolmaster of
Alexandria, who wrote in 400, rejected love themes entirely. He clothed his own
displeasure with the world around him in verses of a personal nature;! he also
wrote poems of a gnomic and popular philosophical type. Distichs are used
more freely as well as the hexameter (the Homeric, not that of Nonnus) and
the archaically constructed trimeter. In spite of their undoubted Christian
confession Paulus Silentiarius, a court official under Justinian, and his friend, the
lawyer Agathias, cultivated a playful prurience. Book 5 of the Anthologia Palatina
(no. 216-302) offers plenty of scope to study the sensual enjoyment of these late-
comers, but also their precise versification, which is influenced by Nonnus.
The subject matter of the Anacreontea (v. p. 177), which were specially
cultivated in late antiquity, was closely akin to that of the erotic epigram.
Because of their metre we mention here the elegiac distichs of a certain
Posidippus of Thebes (probably of Egypt)? which were found on some writing-
tablets; they are a prayer to the Muses and Apollo, followed by a complaint of
old age. The lines, probably written in the first century a.D., are very clumsy,
but they have a personal ring.
In this epoch the hymn was relatively the most vigorous of all the ancient
forms. This is borne out by numerous examples in E. Heitsch’s collection of
texts which comprises, as we think correctly, the hymns in the magic papyri.
Originally three poems written by Mesomedes,? a Cretan and freedman of
Hadrian’s, were known. They were a prooemium to Calliopea and hymns
to Helius and Nemesis, found in manuscripts which also contained musical
notations. In the year 1906 eight poems in different lyrical metres were extracted
from the Ottobonianus 59 (13th c.). Partly these are hymns like those to Physis

1 Cc. M. BOWRA, ‘Palladas on Tyche’. Class. Quart. N.S. 10, 1960, 118.
2 PAGE (v. p. 757, N. I), 470. E. HEITSCH, Die griech. Dichterfragmente der rom. Kaiserzeit.
Abh. Ak. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 3rd ser., no. 49, 1961, 21.
3 Texts and comm.: WILAMOWITZ, Griech. Versk. Berl. 1921, 595. K. HORNA, Die
Hymnen des M. Sitzb. Ak. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl. 207/1. 1928. Anth. Pal. 14, 63 and Anth. Plan.
323 also belong to Mesomedes. On the hymn to Helius: £. HEITSCH, Herm. 88, 1960, 144.
Id. Die griech. Dichterfragmente der rom. Kaiserzeit (v. prev. note), 23 gives the text of the
hymns with app. crit. and the bibl. Cf. also his paper ‘Die Mesomedes- -Uberlieferung’.
Nachr. Ak. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1959/3.
81T
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

and Isis, partly descriptions like the two poems on solar clocks. The most
charming are those about a voyage in the Adriatic and a sponge which the poet
gives to his sweetheart. The very simple language, which borrows freely except
from ancient lyrical poetry, is ‘coloured with Dorisms’ (Wilamowitz).
Synesius of Cyrene, the Neoplatonist and later bishop, born between 370 and
375, was inspired by Mesomedes to write his hymns,! in which Neoplatonic and
Christian elements were combined to express genuine religious feelings.
In addition we mention the surviving hymns of Proclus,? whom we shall
meet among the Neoplatonists. They appropriate the hexameter tradition of the
hymns and show that it was attempted to fit ancient polytheism into the system;
they also reflect a genuine Neoplatonic uplifting of the soul. Nothing of this
kind can be detected in the Orphic Hymn Book,3 a collection of twenty-eight
poems on various gods. Most of these are long-winded invocations with a great
many epithets; we rarely find any true poetry; the nearest approach to poetic
feeling occurs in the prayer to Sleep. The Orphic attitude shows itself in the
central position of Dionysus, otherwise only in a few details. Goddesses like
Hipta and Mise indicate that the hymn book is that of a community in Asia
Minor. In spite of Kern it cannot be proved that it was Pergamum. The earliest
date according to the language can be the end of the second century B.c., but
the collection could be substantially later. The Argonautica also belongs to the
literature of this time which borrowed the name of Orpheus for its own ends
(v. p. 159) It is a sorry rehash of the old legend in which it is tried to place
Orpheus strongly in the limelight and to effect variations from Apollonius’
work.* Then there is the Lithica,5 a didactic poem of sorts on the magic power
of various stones. It has no connection with Orphic doctrine, but is rather a
sample of the literature which passed on such superstition in prose and verse and
was influential deep into the Middle Ages in a Latin version (Marbodus Redon-
ensis). Mention was made earlier (p. 159 f.) of the Rhapsodic Theogony as a
presumably late poem with a number of very early ancestors.
Epic poetry in various styles was still written with some frequency; it even
produced, at the end of antiquity, an achievement of considerable quality. But
first we must cast a glance at didactic poetry, which was cultivated with the same
diligence during the empire as in the Hellenistic era. In this respect the second
century was also particularly productive. Judging from the samples left® we can
' Edition: N. TERZAGHI, Rome 1939; repr. 1949. Interpr.: v. WILAMOWITZ. Sitzb. Ak.
Berl. 1907, 272; now KI. Schriften 2, 163.
* Edition by £. voc, Klass.-phil. Studien herausg. von H. Herter und W. Schmid. H. 18,
Wiesbaden 1957. Id. Rhein. Mus. 100, 1957, 358. D. GIORDANO, Florence 1957 (text with
transl.).
3 Edition by G. QUANDT, 3rd ed. Berl. 1962. Cf. 0. KERN, RE 16, 1936, 1283; V. WILAMO-
witz, Glaube der Hellenen 2, Berl. 1932, 513. R. KEYDELL, RE 18/1. 1942, 1321.
+ Text: G. DOTTIN, Paris 1930. — H. VENZKE, Die orph. Argonautika in ihrem Verhdltnis zu
Ap. Rhod. Neue Deutsche Forsch. 292. Berl. 1941. Also H. HERTER, Gnom. 21, 1949, 68. On
the Delphic metope, early evidence for Orpheus among the Argonauts: P. DE LA COSTE-
MESSELIERE, Au musée de Delphes. Paris 1936, 177. S Edition by E. ABEL. Berl. 188t.
° Edited by M. SCHNEIDER, Commentationes philologae quibus O. Ribbeckio . . . congratu=
lantur discipuli, 1888, 124.
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 THE EMPIRE

easily get over the loss of the forty-two books of the Iatrica of Marcellus of Side,
who also wrote for his patron Herodes Atticus. We should prefer to have more
than the few, though by no means contemptible, fragments! of the astrological
poem of Dorotheus of Sidon, which exerted a strong influence. In the 1187
hexameters of his Description of the Earth (Ilepujynous tijs ockoupévns)? Diony-
sius the Periegete charmingly concealed two acrostichs (109. 513) through which
he revealed his origin from Alexandria and his function under Hadrian. This
opuscule had a great success with its easily intelligible verses, cleanly constructed
in the Callimachean manner. It became a textbook, often translated and com-
mented on. We possess Latin versions by Avienus and Priscian, an extensive
commentary by Eustathius, paraphrases and scholia. Of other works by this
Dionysius a poem on birds (3 books) is known to us through a prose para-
phrase.? The first of the two biographies preserved dates Oppianus of Cilician
Anazarbus, the writer of the Halieuticat under Septimius Severus and Caracalla,
but there is a great deal of confusion in this respect. In accordance with Suidas
the dedication of the work should be linked with Marcus Aurelius. The five
books of the poem describe fishing; the verse-construction, in which the frequent
occurrence of spondees is striking, is smooth, but in spite of many interludes this
versification of transmitted material cannot keep the interest alive. In form the
CynegeticaS (4 books) stands on a lower level; its author was a certain Oppianus
of Syrian Apamea, who dedicated his work to Caracalla. He versified this
subject, which had long been a favourite in Greek prose (v. p. 621), with a great
display of sound-figures, especially rhymes. The Ixeutica dealing with the
catching of birds with the lime-twig is lost. Among late offshoots of the
didactic poem we mention Helladius of Antinupolis of the fourth century with
his four books of Chrestomathy, of which we know through an excerpt by
Photius. It is significant of a time which preferred an easier metre and one more
suited to the new conditions of stressed syllables that the hexameter gave way
to the iambic trimeter. Thus in 500 a certain Marianus transposed numerous
Alexandrians like Theocritus, Apollonius and Aratus into trimeters.
Loosely connected with these is the surviving collection of verse fables by
Babrius.® He probably was an Italian who lived in Asia in the end of the second

I w. KROLL, Catal. cod. astrol. Graec. 6, Brussels 1903, 91. V. STEGEMANN, Dorotheos von
Sidon. Die Fragmente. Heidelberg 1939 and 1943.
2 C. MULLER, Geogr. Gr. min. 2, Paris 1861, 102.
3 Edition by A. GARZYA, Byzantion, 25-27, 1955-1957, 195. Part of the tradition gives
the paraphrase as such of Oppian’s Ixeutica (bird-catching with the lime-twig). GARzYA,
‘Sull’ autore e il titolo del perduto poema Sull’ aucipio attribuito ad Oppiano’. Giorn. ital.
di filol. 10, 1957, 156. Cf. also R. KEYDELL, Gnom. 33, 1961, 283.
4 Edition: F. s. LEHRS in Poetae bucolici et didactici. Paris 1851. A. W. MAIR, Oppian, Colluthus,
Tryphiodorus. (Loeb Class. Libr.) Lond. 1928; repr. 1958.
s Edition by Pp. BOUDREAUX, Paris 1908. A. W. MAIR (v. sup.). Scholia: U. C. BUSSEMAKER,
Paris 1849.
6 In 1843 Minoides Mynas discovered in an Athous 123 fables in alphabetical order
according to the opening words up to about the middle of omicron; it is less gratifying that
later he forged another 95. From the Vaticanus Gr. 777 came an additional 12, four more
from wax-tablets of Palmyra and one each from Pseudo-Dositheus and Natalis Comes.
2) 813
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

century. One of the papyri (no. 107 P.) preserving some of his verse is of this
time. Modern scholarship has shown that it is doubtful whether the regular
stress on the penultimate of the choliambs does in fact already reveal the
influence of the changing conditions of quantity and accent.’ Babrius proves to
be a pleasing story-teller; he is dependent on Aesop’s collection for his subject
matter, but he also inserts novelistic material from other sources.
The epic form also flourished outside the didactic poem. Three fragments in
Stobaeus produce seventy-three hexameters of a certain Naumachius,? gnomic
poetry in the tradition of the hypothecae literature. The girl who relinquishes
her maidenhood and chooses marriage as a career (the second best according to
Naumachius) is given rules for her proper conduct as a woman. The verses flow
smoothly, but the content is mainly plain home-spun. Following E. Rohde,
R. Keydell3 considers whether the author is identical with the Epirote who,
according to Proclus (In rempubl. 2,329 Kr.), wrote on two problems connected
with the myth of Er. Since he lived two generations before Proclus, this would
date Naumachius in the middle of the fourth century.
A Strasbourg papyrus‘ contains an isolated group of seventy-eight hexameters,
part of which are badly mutilated. They picture an impressive conception of the
creation performed by Hermes at the behest of his divine father. He puts a stop
to the war of the elements and forms the universe out of them. His son Logos is
his collaborator. At the end of the lines preserved the foundation of a city is
mentioned, which suggests a connection with Hermupolis. Egyptian elements
have been forced into a poetical combination with Greek ones of various origins
(demiurge, logos). There is a possibility that the author can be named. B. Wyss5
referred to Suidas where an Antimachus (Avr. €repos) is mentioned who came
from Heliopolis and wrote a kosmopoiie in 3700 hexameters. The papyrus was
written in the fourth century and could hardly be much older than the poem
itself. As before, historical material was put into hexameter form. An epic poet
Arrian, whose date is difficult, but probably late, and who is notable for a verse
translation of Virgil’s Georgics,6 wrote an Alexandrias 1 twenty-four books.
Alexandrian epic poetry on the foundation of cities was carried on in the poems
of Claudianus about Tarsus, Anazarbus, Berytus and Nicaea; we are not
certain whether he was the Claudius Claudianus who changed the language of
his poems with his migration to Italy (394). At any rate the fragments of an epic
Gigantomachia and seven epigrams in Greek are of the famous Claudianus.
These epic poets were particularly fond of selecting themes of contemporary

There are also prose paraphrases in which the verse form can be detected. Editions: o.
CRUSIUS, Leipz. 1897 with remnants of other hexameter and elegiac fables. Comm. and lex.
in the ed. of W. G. RUTHERFORD, Lond. 1883.
1 Cf. BE. SCHWYZER, Griech. Gramm. 1, Munich 1939, 394.
2 HEITSCH (v. p. 811, n. 3), 92. 3 RE 16, 1935, 1974.
4 PAGE (v. p. 757, N. I), 544. HEITSCH (v. p. 811, n. 3), 82. H. SCHWABL, “Weltschopfung’.
RE S 9, 1962, 1557. 5 Mus. Helv. 6, 1949, 194.
° The Greeks were customarily little interested in Latin literature, though there were
exceptions; cf. F. DORNSEIFF, L’ Antiquité class. 6, 1937, 232, 4; now Antike und alter Orient
Leipz. 1956, 36, 6. Cf. inf. on Quintus of Smyrna.
814
 THE EMPIRE

history, which necessarily changed into an encomium on the ruler. A papyrus of

the second century (no. 1049 P.)! with Hadrian and Antinous on the lion hunt
probably belongs to the epic written for the emperor by Pancrates, who is
mentioned by Athenaeus (15. 677 d). The poem on the Parthian war of Dio-
cletian and Galerius may be considered a sample of one type; of this work
twenty-one lines have been preserved in a Strasbourg papyrus of the early
fourth century (no. 1471 P.).? There is no support for its attribution to Soteri-
chus, who described in epic poetry the destruction of Thebes (335) and the life
of Apollonius of Tyana. Roman generals could also find delight in such hexa-
meter homage, as shown by papyri of the fifth century (no. 1473, 1475, 1477 P.).3
Mythological epic poetry was also abundantly represented, and it was in this
very sphere that a late splendour was to flourish. This does not refer to the epic
poetry which rehashed the subject of the Trojan cycle. This trend produced such
empty trifles as an Iliad Omitting Letters ?IXias Aevroypdpparos) by Nestor of
Lycian Laranda, in which in each book one letter at a time was not permitted to
appear. The same author also wrote a Metamorphoses. The fourteen books of the
Sequel to Homer (Ta pe@? “Opnpov)* of Quintus of Smyrna have been preserved;
he meant with his epic to fill the gap between the Iliad and the Odyssey. His date
is hard to fix, but the fourth century is the most likely. This sort of poetry shows
that the richness of ancient epic is a thing of the past; this versifier works from
mythological handbooks, even though he tells the story of his dedication as a
poet in the manner of Hesiod. An interesting problem is posed by the corre-
spondence of subjects with Virgil. R. Heinze’s’ conjecture that they go back to
common sources has been much applauded, but recently R. Keydell pointed out
some similar traits which can hardly be accounted for unless it is assumed that
Quintus knew and utilized Virgil.
Unlike Quintus, Triphiodorus® and Colluthus seem already to be influenced

1 PAGE (v. p. 757, 0. 1), 516. HEITSCH (v. p. 811, n. 3), SI.
2 PAGE (v. sup.), 542. HEITSCH (v. sup.), 79.
3 PAGE (v. sup.), 588 ff. HEITSCH (v. sup.), 99. 104. 120.
+ Edition A. ZIMMERMANN, Leipz. 1891. F. VIAN, Histoire de la tradition manuscrite de Qu.
de Sm. Paris 1959. Id. Recherches sur les Posthomerica de Quintus de Smyrne. Paris 1959. To
PHANIS I. KAKRIDIS, KOINTOX EMYPNAIOX“. Athens 1962, we owe a penetrating mono-
graph which takes into account themes, style and metre.
5 Vergils epische Technik, 3rd ed. Leipz. 1915, 63. Also F. VIAN, Recherches sur les ‘ Post-
homerica’ de Qu. de Sm. Paris 1959 (Et. et Comm. 30) denies that he used Virgil. He thinks
of a Hellenistic Iiupersis as a source, apart from a mythological handbook. But there is
no denying the partly very extensive parallels which were demonstrated by R. KEYDELL,
Gnom. 33, 1961, 279. Especially impressive the passage with the testudo Aen. 9, 503-520,
compared with Posthom. 11, 358-408 (also KEYDELL, Herm. 82, 1954, 254). K. BUCHNER, RE
A 8, 1958, 1475 also reckons with Quintus’ using Virgil. KEYDELL goes a great deal further
and assumes that he also knew Ovid and Seneca. The series of omens Posthom. 12, 503-520,
can only be explained from Latin models. We must take into account the possibility that
the general opinion according to which the late Greeks ignored Latin literature, needs
considerable corrections. - MARIALUISA MONDINO, Su alcune fonti di Qu. Sm. Saggio critico.
Turin 1958. ' ony
6 This spelling of the name is corroborated by the papyri and inscriptions, cf. R. KEYDELL,
REA 7, 1939, 178.
815
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

by Nonnus’ strict rules of versification. Triphiodorus, who toyed with an

Odyssey Omitting Letters, left a brief epic (691 lines) on the Capture of Troy
(INlov dAwors). Of Colluthus, who, like Triphiodorus, came from Egypt, an
even shorter poem (394 lines), The Rape ofHelen (‘Apmayy “EAévys),' is extant.
We are not grateful for it. Once more the chronology is difficult, but since
Triphiodorus reveals the influence of Nonnus, and Colluthus on the other
hand is dependent on him, he must be dated between these two in the second
half of the fifth century.
From among the fragments of epic poetry which imitated the cycle, we refer
to the remnants of twenty-one hexameters which occur in Pap. Ox. 2, 1899,
no. 214.2 The speaker alludes to the story of Telephus whom Dionysus in his
wrath caused to trip over a vine during the battle with the Achaeans who had
landed, and he prays to the gods for peace between Trojans and Greeks. It has
been conjectured that this was the speech of Astyoche, who was afraid of
Eurypylus. If the sparse remnants of twenty-two hexameters on the reverse side
belong to the same poem, all these conjectures are useless, since they mention
a ship’s voyage.
While we have the impression that the cultivation of cyclical themes did not
get beyond a scholastic traditionalism, another range of subjects proved to be
considerably fertile. The Dionysian myths with their tendency to ecstatic trans-
ports, the breaking through of all bonds and their numerous possibilities of
absorbing mysticism, magic and astrology, agreed with the mood of the time,
quite unlike the ancient epic with its fixed norms. The same holds good for a
subject like the gigantomachy which was used by the sophist Scopelianus under
Trajan. A certain Dionysius also wrote a Gigantias; of him we have in a papyrus
an important piece of Dionysiac epic poetry before Nonnus in the Bassarica (no.
244 P.).3 Here the Indian expedition of the god already forms the theme;
Deriades also appears as the hostile king. The verses, which undeniably have
some poetic vigour, relate the remarkable episode of how Dionysius’ com-
panions forced an opponent into a deerskin and how the god tempted the enemy
to tear to pieces and devour the supposed animal, a rare variety of the ancient
Dionysian theme of omophagy. Unfortunately we cannot date this Dionysius
accurately. The papyrus is of the late third or early fourth century, but the poem
could be considerably earlier than Nonnus. Soterichus, whom we mentioned
before, also wrote a Bassarica under Diocletian (Bacoapixd Frou Avovuctakd,
4 books); fifty-seven lines of a hexameter poem about the punishment of
Lycurgus (no. 1455 P.),* perhaps a hymn, belongs to the same period. The
poetically insignificant lines, partly written in an awkward style, produced the
unknown story that the blasphemer Lycurgus had eternally to scoop up water in
a broken pithos in the underworld.
' Editions of Triphiodorus and Colluthus by w. WEINBERGER, Leipz. 1896; cf. p. 813,
n. 4.
2 PAGE (v. p. 757 N. 1), 534. HEITSCH (v. DPeeoli nes ese
__3 PAGE (v. sup.), $36. HEITSCH (v. sup.), 60 with all the fragments of both poems.
P(ack)’s
identification with the Periegete is not justified.
* PAGE (v. sup.), 520. HEITSCH (v. sup.), 172.
816
 THE EMPIRE

So there was no lack of preludes to the last great poem preserved from anti-
quity, the forty-eight books of Dionysiaca of Nonnus! of Egyptian Panopolis.
It is difficult to date him precisely, but he can confidently be put in the fifth
century, preferably in the second half.?
In the broad sweep of this gigantic epic the story is told of Dionysus’ Indian
expedition and his battles against king Deriades, a legend which was the mythical
reflection of Alexander’s vast expedition long before Nonnus’ time. Apart from
this the epic contains a complete history of the god. In extensive introductory
sections the events prior to his birth are told; the birth itself does not occur until
Book 8, followed by his youth; Book 13 starts with the preparations against
India. Deriades’ fall (Book 40) is followed by numerous adventures on the
march home, new proofs of the god’s power such as Pentheus’ punishment and
finally his admission to Olympus.
In this bewilderingly colourful fabric the warp of Homeric origin is still
noticeable, both in motif and form. The Muse is invoked at the beginning, there
is a catalogue of the god’s forces, the manufacture of beautiful weapons; Homer
can be recognized in the battle scenes, funeral games, and even a deception of
Zeus is perpetrated by Hera. This late epic also uses stock epithets, which
actually run riot in it, and frequently repeated formulae. But how different is the
woof under which the Homeric warp often disappears almost completely! The
solemnity of tragedy exerts as powerful an influence as Alexandrian poetry with
its penchant for the idyllic or for riddling paraphrase. But it would be doing
Nonnus an injustice to characterize his work by an analysis of these elements.
However many precedents there may be of motif and form, the Dionysiaca is a
work with a personal stamp through the Dionysiac ecstasy which pervades the
whole work. Classicist criticism could only find bombast and exuberance, and
there are indeed passages which deserve such condemnation; but apart from
these there are many through which there runs a deep emotion which throws
off all restraint. With what exploding force the work begins! The cosmos is in
commotion; Typhoeus has possessed himself of the fire of lightning and is
threatening Zeus’ world with destruction. Cadmus will be the saviour, his
daughter will give birth to Dionysus. The wide spatial background is another
of the baroque features of this poetry; the world is too small to serve as its
stage.
So great was this poet’s frenzy that the poem’s composition fell a victim
to it. He made neither careful preparations nor kept anything in reserve. In
rich profusion stories of gods are interwoven with astral legends after the
Alexandrian manner into a plot whose unity at times threatens to be over-
whelmed by all the accessories.
The strictness of the hexameter structure is in a peculiar contrast with this lack
of restraint. At the time of Nonnus the differences in quantity of Greek vowels
were already disappearing, and it is significant that he not only constructed
hexameters with correct quantities himself, but even found a following. He
1 The name is not Egyptian but Celtic. Proofin rr. zUCKER, DLZ 81, 1960, 120, 3.
2 The arguments of P. FRIEDLANDER, Herm. 47, 1912, 43, are still noteworthy.
817
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

carried on the development from Homer to Callimachus, decreasing the permis-

sible forms of the hexameter with a number of restrictions. The numerous
dactyls and the predominance of the feminine caesura imparts movement and at
the same time softness. On the other hand, the change of accent and quantity is
revealed in the obligatory stress on the ultimate or penultimate syllable of the
hexameter (suppression of the proparoxytone).
An epigram (Anth. Pal. 9. 198) mentions giants in connection with the poet,
but since the adversaries of Dionysus were called so, this must be considered as
a description of the Dionysiaca rather than an allusion to a Gigantomachia. A
Paraphrase of St John’s Gospel has been preserved which exhibits all the character-
istics of the style of the poem on Dionysus. Did Nonnus write the Dionysiaca
when he was already a Christian or are the two poems separated by his conver-
sion to the new faith? Various opinions have been put forward, but elements of
magic and astrology are so deeply rooted in the Dionysiaca that it is preferable
to place its composition in a time when Nonnus was still a pagan."
Among the number of Nonnus’ followers we have already mentioned Tri-
phiodorus and Colluthus. We add Musaeus, whose epyllion of Hero and Leander
has been preserved. This love story with a tragic ending had been put into poetic
form in the Hellenistic age, as we know from a papyrus (no. 1411 P., v. p. 758).
In his use of metre and in many linguistic features Musaeus is Nonnus’ pupil, but
this does not apply to his much simpler form of narrative. Two poems in a
Viennese manuscript (no. 1048 P.)? follow Nonnus’ example. The first gives,
after a brief iambic prologue, a very successful ecphrasis of the times of the day
and man’s activities during them. The battle of light with dark, of the warmth of
the sun with damp cold, imparts movement to the whole poem. The second item
oftered by the papyrus is a fragment of an encomium on Patricius Theagenes,
an Athenian archon and patron of the arts in the second half of the fifth century.
In his edition H. Gerstinger has shown that it is possible that the author of this
poem is identical with Pamprepius, who was born in Egyptian Panopolis in 445,
rose from a primary school-teacher to be a professor at Athens and later an
imperial diplomat, and died a violent death in 488.
At the turn of the fifth and sixth centuries we meet Christodorus of Coptus, a
historical epic poet in this group. Apart from Isaurica and Lydiaca he wrote
various histories of cities (Hdrpia). 416 hexameters of his have been preserved
as Book 2 of the Anthologia Palatina with a completely unimportant description
of some statues in the gymnasium of Zeuxippus. Considerably greater ability is
displayed by Paulus Silentiarius, whom we already met as an epigrammatist and
who must be mentioned here as a follower of Nonnus, in his description of the
Hagia Sophia and the singer’s pulpit (ambon) in this church.3 He also wrote a
description of the hot springs in Bithynia (Eis ra, €v Tv@lous Oepya). Ioannes of
' Thus H. BOGNER, ‘Die Religion des N. von Panopolis’. Phil. 89, 1934, 320.
* H. GERSTINGER, Pamprepios von Panopolis. Sitzb. Ak. Wien. Phil.-hist. K1. 208/3. 1928.
PAGE (v. p. 757, n. I), $60. HEITSCH (v. p. 811, n. 3), 108.
3 Pp. FRIEDLANDER, Joh. von Gaza und Paul. Sil. Leipz. 1912 (with the history of the
poetical ecphrasis). The description of the Hagia Sophia was declaimed on the 6th of
January §63, that of the Ambon soon afterwards.
818
 THE EMPIRE

Gaza, who described a picture of the cosmos in the conservatory at Gaza in two
books of hexameters with an iambic introduction, is less important as a poet.
We wish to glance at one example of the degeneration of Greek poetry
beyond the temporal limit which we have imposed. Some papyri! have preserved
(it would be an exaggeration to say ‘saved’) a number of occasional poems by
an official of Aphrodito in Upper Egypt called Dioscorus. They are encomia in
hexameters and iambs, wedding poems and some mythological items in the
form of the ethopoiie. He lived approximately between the years 520 and 585,
was a Copt by birth and Coptic was his native tongue. His ambition to write
Greek was not without an ulterior motive in his homage to high-ranking
personalities. His style and verse structure are clear proof of the degeneration.

Nonnus: Editions: A. LUDWICH, 2 vols. Leipz. 1909/11. W. H. D. ROUSE, 3 vols.

(Loeb Class. Libr.) Lond. 1939-41 (with Engl. transl.). The authoritative edition
by that scholar who has performed such outstanding services in the whole field
of literature R. KEYDELL, Nonni Panopolitani Dionysiaca. 2 vols. Berlin 1959. The
Prolegomena contain important sections on language and metre, as well as a
thorough description of the Laur. 32, 16, which Ludwich acknowledged as the
basis for the text; the Berlin papyrus 10567 is valued for its importance for
criticism; the extensive bibliography is also valuable; also KEYDELL, ‘Mythen-
deutung in den Dionysiaka des N.’. Gedenkschrift Georg Rohde. Aparchai 4.
Tiibingen 1961, 105. —_v. STEGEMANN, Astrologie und Universalgeschichte; Studien
u. Interpretationen zu den Dion. des N. Leipz. 1930. - Metre and language; A.
WIESTRAND, Von Kallimachos zu N. Lund. 1933. J. OPELT, ‘Alliteration im
Griechischen? Untersuchungen zur Dichtersprache des N. von Pan.’ Glotta 37,
1958, 205. — Musaeus: Editions: A. LuDwicH, Bonn 1912 (KI. Texte 98). ENRICA
MALCOVATI, Milan 1947. H. FARBER, Munich 1961 (Heimeran, biling.) with
Pap. Rylands Libr. 486 and further evidence for the later influence of the poem
up to the German folk song of the two king’s children — Verbal index in the
edition of A. M. BANDINI, Florence 1765. — G. ScHOTT, Hero und Leander bei
Musaios und Ovid. Diss. Cologne 1957.

B Prose

[RCA BY0 7852 GREE

Plutarch demands a place of his own, because he occupies a fringe position com-
pared with the prevailing currents of his age. Although he never tried to break
new ground with original ideas or to shake the barriers of his time, he put the
stamp of his personality so strongly on the vast mass of the tradition which he
used so skilfully that it became often independent and exerted an influence
beyond the times.
1 HEITSCH (v. p. 811, n. 3), 127.
819
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

He was born a few years before 50 and died a little after 120, which means that
he lived during the rule of the Flavians, their degeneration under Domitian and
the renewed flourishing of the empire under Trajan. He was born in Boeotian
Chaeronea where his family enjoyed great distinction.! Study at Athens was
almost a matter of course. There he joined the Academy, especially through his
teacher Ammonius; throughout his life he was faithfully devoted to the founder
of this institution. He himself records his diligent mathematical studies (no. 24. 7;
387 £);? several of his works reveal that he occupied himself no less industriously
with rhetoric. He discovered the extent of the empire on voyages which took
him to Asia and Alexandria, and especially to Italy. We are badly provided with
the dates and length of his stays in Rome, but they probably occurred shortly
before 80 and soon after 90. They definitely did not last very long, for Plutarch
states in his biography of Demosthenes (2) that politics and philosophy made such
demands on him in Rome that he could not even learn Latin properly and only
came to Latin literature in later years. His attitude to Rome was loyal and gave
him no problems. Friends played a great part in his life, and he made some among
distinguished Romans. Among these were*L. Mestrius Florus, who procured
him Roman citizenship and with it the gentile name of Mestrius, and Q. Sosius
Senecio, the confidant of Trajan. According to Suidas, Trajan conferred the
consular dignity on him and bound the governor of Illyria to obey his pleasure.
According to Eusebius (on the year 119) Hadrian even made him governor of
Hellas. Neither statement can be defended here.? It can hardly be decided
whether these tales conceal some distinction in his old age.
Plutarch, who came to know considerable parts of the empire in the course of
his journeys and to whom the houses of the great were opened, spent by far the
greater part of his life in the small country town where he was born. His life is
like his work; his glance had taken in wide spaces, but he always remained
conscious of the restrictions which hemmed in his nature. Within these he
achieved his best without striving for what his genius had denied him. What
makes Plutarch so charming for us is the rich humanity which he unfolded
within these limitations. Its main source was an exceedingly intimate family life,
of which the consolation for his wife Timoxena at the death of their little
daughter of the same name (no. 45) gives a particularly fine proof. In the
tradition of the ancient polis, Plutarch did not shun the duties of his city. He
directed the building activities and was eponymous archon. All these events
occurred on a humble level; no doubt he benefited a great deal more from his
connections with the ancient centre of Greek religious life, Delphi, which was
conveniently close to Chaeronea. These connections pervaded his whole life and
his writings; they were crowned by a position in the twin priesthood of Delphi,
its highest religious authority, which function he performed for many years.
Apart from his family, his civic activity and his Delphic service, the richness of

' K. ZIEGLER, ‘Plutarchs Ahnen’. Herm. 82, 1954, 499.

2 We refer to the individual writings of the Moralia with the numbers of the catalogue
appended.
3 v, the objections of K.LATTE in ZIEGLER RE (v. inf.), 658, I.
820
 THE EMPIRE
his life was formed by an extensive circle of friends. Plutarch’s house must rarely
have been without guests; in his home he was something like a leader of a
many-sided circle with a special interest in philosophy.
The diversity of Plutarch’s interests is expressed in the mass of writings com-
prised under the rather unfortunate description of Moralia. However, only about
one-third of Plutarch’s works have been preserved, including the Lives. This
information is supplied by the so-called catalogue of Lamprias, a very careless
and quite incomplete list which cannot be the work of Plutarch’s son Lamprias,
for the simple reason that there was no such person.? It is not possible to go here
into details of the numerous themes dealt with in the Moralia; we shall try to
give a collective survey at the hand of the record of titles referred to, singling out
a few items with constant reference to it.
A fairly large group is marked off by its strongly rhetorical character. These
works were probably written in the early years, when Plutarch had not yet
adopted his moderate, reserved attitude to rhetoric. He declaims in these on
Tyche, her role in the life of Alexander and in the history of Rome, on the
foundations of Athens’ fame and numerous other themes (no. 8. 20-22. 27; also
32-34. 62). Much of this contrasts so greatly with the harmony of the other
writings that scholars like Pohlenz and Ziegler have considered the possibility
that immature early work was published from the legacy. Much room is
occupied by popular philosophical tractates; the one on peace of mind (no. 30)
characterizes their structure. Here, as well as in many other passages, the great
admirer of Plato exhibits a strong influence of the Stoa. The object of serene
peace of mind, to which all Hellenistic systems aspired, is praised here by one
who contributed what was best for it in his own soul. For similar reasons Plu-
tarch has also much to say that is useful about marriage (no. 12), and it should be
noted that, though in the Eroticus (no. 47) he follows Plato’s footsteps in praising
Eros as the guide to the highest good, he makes homosexual love recede very
much into the background.? Everywhere in Plutarch’s writings we notice a
strong didactic temperament. It is not surprising, therefore, that he also made
some direct statements about matters of education (no. 2 f.).
Apart from many works composed as diatribes there are writings in which
Plutarch attempts serious philosophical discussion. Without penetrating to the
final depths of the problems, he has passed on to us a notable quantity of philo-
sophical-historical material. The treatise on the doctrine of the soul of the
Platonic Timaeus (no. 68 f.) gives an arbitrary and harmonizing interpretation,
but it is interesting because it deals with the question of the evil universal soul.
The Platonic Problems (no. 67) deals with individual passages, and the Timaeus is
once more in the foreground. It is remarkable that of Plutarch’s polemics against
Stoics and Epicureans three each have been preserved (no. 70-72, 73-75). Ziegler’s
conjecture that this is the result of a selection is attractive.
Plutarch did not only write about the human soul - we have fragments of an
t The dedicatory letter, prefixed in some manuscripts, is a medieval forgery; K. ZIEGLER,
Rhein. Mus. 63, 1908, 239 and 76, 1927, 20.
* Other popular philosophical works 4-7, 9, 11, 28 f., 31, 35-40.
2D) 821
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

extensive work on this subject — he was also interested in questions of the

psychology of animals (no. 63). A curious item, and one whose authenticity has
been a matter of argument, is the dialogue on the reason of animals with its
mythological form (no. 64) which is reminiscent of the satirical attitude of
Cynicism. The two books against the use of meat (no. 65 f.) are akin to the
early rhetorical works; they reveal some Pythagorean influence.
The Pythian dialogues on the enigmatic E at the entrance to the Delphic
temple (no. 24), the form of the oracles (no. 25) and their decline (no. 26)
originated in the sphere of religion which meant so much to Plutarch. One of
the most interesting works is the On Isis and Osiris (no. 23),! in which Plutarch,
himself an initiate of the Dionysiac mysteries (no. 45, c. 10; 611 d) gives an
interpretation, or rather a tangle of syncretistical and allegorical interpretations,
of the mystery religion of Osiris. Osiris emerges as the main god who signifies
the Logos and the Being above the world of Becoming, Isis as the goddess of
wisdom gives man access to knowledge of the Highest, whereas Typho is the
hostile principle of deception and blindness, the destroyer of the path of insight.
This makes the treatise an important document for a mystery religion which
absorbed Platonizing elements and envisaged the knowledge of a highest
intelligible principle (352 A: 1%) To6 mpwrov Kal Kupiov Kal vontod yv@ats).?
There is much less implied in the dialogue On God’s late Judgment (no. 41), which
is staged in Delphi and takes up the ancient problem of divine justice. He does
not penetrate to a profound depth, but Plutarch’s pious faith in the righteousness
of a god free from human reproaches is presented with the warmth of a personal
confession. The concluding myth with its metaphysical vision has a very obvious
affinity with the end of Plato’s Republic.
The pedagogic trend3 which is peculiar to Plutarch’s work, is also evident in
his writings on politics, such as the instructions for the statesman (no. 52, cf. no.
49-51). The fragment on constitutions (no. 53) is of doubtful authenticity.
Plutarch also occupied himself in his own way with scientific questions. The
treatise On the Face of the Moon (no. 60, cf. no. 59. 61) combines various theories
about this celestial body into a motley collection. In the final passage, a myth, he
strongly stresses his belief in an intermediate realm of demons.* Here Plutarch
writes in an Academic tradition which mainly follows Xenocrates.
The antiquarian medley of the Roman and Greek Aetia (no. 18) carries on a
Hellenistic fashion. Cult naturally occupies a great deal of room in questions of
the meaning and origin of various customs. His delight in anecdotes, which put
its stamp on the Lives, is also evident in the treatise on womanly virtue (no. 17)
and the collection of Laconic dicta (no. 16). Another collection of apothegms
' TH. HOPENER, P. iiber Isis und Osiris. I. Die Sage. Monog. des Archivs Orientalni 9.
Prague 1940 (text, transl., comm.); II Die Deutungen der Sage. 1941.
Treated by ANTONIE WLOSOK, Abh. Ak. Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1960/2, 56.
3 Plutarch did not write the treatise on the education of children, but it has some impor-
tance as the only extant Greek writing which deals specifically with the subject. On the
source analysis BE. G. BERRY, ‘The De liberis educandis of Pseudo-Plutarch.’ Harv. Stud. 63,
1958 (Festschr. Jaeger), 387.
4 G. soury, La démonologie de P. Paris 1942.
822
 THE EMPIRE

(no. 15) is spurious, but gives a notion of the sort of collections used by Plutarch.
The Table-talk of the Seven Sages (no. 13, cf. p. 157) and the nine books of the
Symposiaca (no. 46) may be added here for the sake of the diversity of their
content which touches nearly the whole scope of his themes.
Plutarch, who read industriously, also devoted himself diligently to the great
authors of his people. We know of expositions on Homer and Hesiod,! but he
was dissatisfied with Herodotus (no. 57) because of the part which Bocotia
played in his work. In a critical study (no. 56)? he significantly gave preference
to Menander over Aristophanes, whose genius was beyond his grasp. As else-
where, apocryphal material also has significance in this group, such as the Lives
of the Ten Orators (Bernardakis VII 329) with a wealth of material from ancient
Homeric philology. All these apocrypha are overshadowed by the treatise On
Music (no. 76), one of our most important sources on this subject. Aristoxenus
and Heraclides Ponticus have not only been extensively used, but large sections
are verbatim copies.
The form of the Moralia is as motley as the contents. Many parts are cast as
dialogues. His attempt to emulate Plato is shown in the details of the scenic
framework, the artifice of having the dialogue narrated by one of the partici-
pants and the occasional insertion of myths, but the execution of the dialogue-
form reveals marked differences, and the conversation is not rarely replaced by
a complete didactic lecture. We singled out the rhetorical declamations, prob-
ably products of his early years, as a group with a special character. Other
writings are purely factual essays, while in the popular philosophical tractates
features of the diatribe can be observed.
It was not the Moralia, but rather his biographical writings, which established
Plutarch’s fame. He states himself (Prooem. Aemil.) that he started upon these
through others, but that he then took a delight in them. In the same passage he
gives an account of the meaning of this activity; the association with the great
men of the past is meant to influence our own nature with their high qualities.
But when he sometimes introduces us to a pair of doubtful morality, like
Demetrius and Antony (on other respects one of the most brilliant of syzygies),
he zealously assures us in the introduction that even a negative example can be of
great use for the right mode of life. Albrecht Dihle has enlarged on the extent to
which the biographical tradition of which Plutarch forms part, is influenced by
Peripatetic doctrine, which assigns to man’s actions the decisive importance in
its ethical system. Fr. Leo has also referred to the importance of the Peripatos for
biography. This does not mean that it is a matter of course that ethical qualities
become evident in actions, but it refers to the Aristotelian doctrine? that the

« Printed in Bernardakis, VII.

2 The surviving treatise is an excerpt of an essay which is probably by Plutarch and at
any rate reflects his opinion.
3 The first chapters of the second book of the NE are of special importance for this.
K. V. FRITZ, Gnom. 28, 1956, 330 correctly stresses that it is strange that Aristotle especially
should separate the formation of the ethos by action so sharply from the physis. Here a
tradition, handed down from Pindar and Sophocles, has been abandoned. Euripides reveals
how it became a problem.
823
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

‘ethical virtues’ are not naturally present before their manifestation, but come
into being as customary modes of behaviour (given a disposition for them) with
the action and through it. This connection between 74 and mpd€eis stipulates
for Plutarch’s biography a description of character which takes its heroes’ actions
as its constant premiss. A great deal of historical material is, of course, also
involved. Plutarch has often been censured for his way of dealing with history,
and it would indeed be difficult to make a first-class historian of him. But he did
not claim to be one at all. He stated this most clearly in his introduction to the
Alexander, where he describes biography, and not history, as his business. He
was never concerned with historical relations, or political aetiology in the
meaning of Thucydides; he is only interested in the images of great men. Their
traits, he states in the passage referred to, do not appear only in their great deeds,
but much more in many a small gesture or utterance. This is the Plutarch of the
anecdote, always ready to reach into his great stock and to impart, with numerous
little tales, to his biographies the variety which is their charm. This is not the
least reason for the influence which they exerted throughout the ages, so that
their subsequent influence forms part of the history of European literature. In
addition we mention Plutarch’s considerable skill in dramatized narrative and
duly stress that a warm understanding of humanity and a likeable moral
optimism also give their character to the Lives, these being some important
characteristics of these biographies. In the question to what extent Plutarch used
independent sources or utilized available compilations, scholars are at present
more inclined to acknowledge his personal achievement.! Of course he also had
collections at his disposal which provided him with apophthegmata, anecdotes
and literary quotations. He may even have prepared such aids himself.
Preserved are also twenty-two Parallel Lives, of which our catalogue gives a
survey.? The pair Epaminondas-Scipio is lost; it referred to Scipio the Elder
rather than to Aemilianus. Of the individual Lives we have those of Aratus and
Artaxerxes, as well as those of Galba and Otho. Lamprias’ catalogue mentions a
whole series of others, among which those of poets (Hesiod, Pindar, Aratus)
and one of the philosopher Crates, who was a Boeotian like Hesiod and
Pindar.
The idea of combining a great Greek and a Roman into a pair is both in
accordance with the time in which Greek tradition sought to maintain itself
beside the power of Rome, and with Plutarch’s own conciliatory nature, which
attempted to unite historical realities within the framework of his view of life.
Plutarch, to whom the sceptical conviction of modern historians, that there are
no true parallels at all, was completely foreign, was sometimes quite fortunate
in his combinations, as, for instance, with Demetrius and Antony, while in
‘ An instructive bibl. on this question in connection with the Life of Pericles by e.
BUCHNER, Gnoml. 32, 1960, 306. :
* Agis and Cleomenes have been combined into a tetrade with the two Gracchi. We
shall not go into the question of the relative chronology of the Lives. It is particularly
difficult through the alternating quotations, among which there may well be later additions;
cf. ZIEGLER, RE (v. inf.), 899. C. THEANDER, ‘Zur Zeitfolge der Biographien Pl.s.’ Eranos 56,
1958, 12.
824
 THE EMPIRE

other cases the possibilities of comparison may be very slight, but hardly ever
miscarry completely. Even for Pericles and Fabius Maximus the stress on defen-
sive warfare may be considered a modest link. Plutarch reveals the rhetorical
tradition in the syncrisis,! the synoptical comparison with which he usually
concludes a parallel life. This is often a tour de force or it is devoid of meaning,
but nowadays no one would think of denying Plutarch’s responsibility for these
parts, as Rudolf Hirzel did.
Atticism was flourishing when Plutarch wrote, but here he also proved to be
a man of moderation. The freeman of the city of Athens appreciated Attic
culture and language, but he joined neither in the pursuit of rare Attic words,
nor did he bar elements of Koine from his diction, so that his style belongs to the
Hellenistic tradition. He adopted this same moderate attitude towards rhetoric,
after shaking off the ties which were noticeable in the early declamations. He
generally is so precise in his avoidance of hiatus, that this trait could be used as
a criterion for authenticity. An attempt to introduce rhythm can be detected in
the appearance of usual types of clausulae.? Plutarch’s style owes its personal note
especially to the broad sweep of his periods; he tends to be broadly informative,
while at the same time his wide literary experience induces him to fit as many
ideas as possible into the framework of one sentence structure.

The considerable difference between Lamprias’ catalogue and the preserved

writings proves that a great deal of Plutarch’s work was lost during the dark
ages. For the Lives an edition in two volumes in chronological order (according
to the Greeks) can be identified, which was probably produced at the end of
antiquity. Evidence for this is a manuscript in Seitenstetten (11th/12th c.) and
one in Madrid (Matrit. 55; 14th c.). Early in the Byzantine era this edition was
joined by another in three volumes which arranged the material in the first place
according to the place of origin of the Greeks and only in the second place
according to the chronological order. Manuscripts of this edition occur as early
as the roth c.: Vat. Gr. 138, Laur. conv. soppr. 206, Laur. pl. 69, 9, each for one
book. The particular importance of Par. gr. 1674 (13th c.) for the edition in
three volumes is stressed in the Coll. des Un. d. Fr. (v. infra) for which M. JUNEAUX
did the collating. The transmission of the Moralia was decided by the work of
Maximus Planudes from the end of the 13th c. to the early 14th c., combining
the pieces transmitted in individual groups into one corpus. The unsuitable title
of Moralia is due to the fact that he opened the corpus with the ’H@c«d. For the
various stages of the collection, in the course of which Planudes also included
the Lives, we have excellent evidence in the Ambros. 859 (C 126 inf.; shortly
before 1296); Paris. 1671 (completed 1296); Paris. 1672 (soon after 1302). The
tradition of the Moralia is abundant and varies greatly.
1 On this notion: F. FOCKE, ‘Synkrisis’. Herm. 58, 1923, 327. On Plutarch: H. ERBSE,
‘Die Bedeutung der Synkrisis in den Parallelbiographien Plutarchs’. Herm. 84, 1956, 398.
2 Ditrochee, cretic and trochee, double cretic, hypodochmius.
825
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The old Teubner-edition of the Moralia by G. N. BERNARDAKIS in 7 vols.

(Leipz. 1888-96) has already been almost completely replaced by the new one
on which c. HUBERT, W. NACHSTADT, W. R. PATON, M. POHLENZ, W. SIEVEKING,
I. WEGEHAUPT and K. ZIEGLER collaborated (6 vols., of which Vol. 5 is still
incomplete, Leipz. from 1908; fasc. V/1.3; VI/1-3, were published in 1957-60 in
reprint, often with appendices by H. DREXLER. For the Lives the Teubneriana of
C. SINTENIS (5 vols. Leipz. 1852-55, often reprinted) has been replaced by the
one of C. LINDSKOG and K. ZIEGLER (4 vols. in 8 parts, Leipz. 1914-39, I in 3rd
ed. 1960; 2 in 2nd ed. 1959). In the Coll. des Un. de Fr. (biling.): R. FLACELIERE,
M. JUNEAUX, E. CHAMBRY, Plut. Les vies paralléles. 1 (Thésée-Romulus. Lycur-
gus-Numa) 1957; 2 (Solon-Publicola. Thémistocle-Camille) 1961, based on
new collations by M. JUNEAUX. We give next a complete survey of Plutarch’s
surviving works. The numbers between brackets refer to the new editions
mentioned; for only a small part of the Moralia reference has been made to
Bernardakis. Athetesis is indicated by bracketing the serial numbers, doubt by an
additional 2, but in this connection it must be admitted that there is still un-
certainty with regard to the criticism of individual writings.

Moralia:
(1.) De liberis educandis. epi raidwv aywyrjs (I 1). — 2. De audiendis poetis.
Ilds Set tov véov rounudtwv axovew (I 28). — 3. De audiendo. epi tod axovew
(I 75). -— 4. De adulatore et amico. I@s av tis dtaxpivere Tov KdAaKa Tot didov
(197). — 5. De profectibus in virtute. Il@s dv tus aicbouro éavtot mpoKdomtovros
em apeth (I 149). — 6. De capienda ex inimicis utilitate. lds dv tis am’ eyOpav
wpedoiro (1 172). - 7. De amicorum multitudine. Iepi roAvdiAlas (I 186). — 8. De
fortuna. epi réyns (I 197). — 9. De virtute et vitio. Ilepi aperijs Kat Kaklas
(I 204). — (10.) Consolatio ad Apollonium. TlapapvOntixos mpos > AmoAAdov
(I 208). - 11. De tuenda sanitate praecepta. ‘Yyvewa mapayyéAwara (I 253). —
12. Coniugalia praecepta. Vapuixa rapayyéAwara (I 283). — 13. Septem sapientium
convivium. Tay énta copdv cvprrdavov (I 300). — 14. De superstitione. Hepi Se-
obarovias (I 338). — (15). Regum et imperatorum apophthegmata. Baowéwv
anopbéypara Kat otpatnyav (II/t, 1). — 16. Apophthegmata Laconica. Instituta
Laconica. Apophth. Lacaenarum. ’Aro¢0éypata Aaxwvrexa (II/1, 110. 204, 216). —
17. Mulierum virtutes. Yuvacc@v aperat (Il/1, 225). — 18. Aetia Romana. Aetia
Graeca. Aira ‘Pwpaika cat “EAAqvucd. (1/1, 273. 337). — (19.) Parallela minora.
Luvaywy7 toropidv mapaddjAwy ‘EAAnvikav Kat ‘Pwpatkdv (II/2, 1). - 20. De
fortuna Romanorum. Uepi ris ‘Pwpatwv tvyns (Il/2, 43). — 21. De Alexandri
Magni fortuna aut virtute or. I et I. Wept rijs’AAcEdvdpou tiyns7 aperis Adyos
a’, B’ (II/2, 75. 93). — 22. De gloria Atheniensium. Ilorepov ’A@nvaior Kara
modepov 7) Kata codiay évdokdrepor (II/2, 121). — 23. De Iside et Osiride. Tept
“Lowdos Kai ’Oaipidos (II/3, 1). - 24. De E apud Delphos. Mept rob Ei rod ev
AeAgois (Ill 1). - 25. De Pythiae oraculis. epi tod jut) ypav EUpweTpa vov THY
Hv@iav (Il 25).-26. De defectu oraculorum. Mept rv éxAeAourd Tw XpNOTHplwv
(III so). — 27. An virtus doceri possit, Ei Si8axtov % dpery (Il 123). — 28. De
virtute morali. Hepi 70s aperfs (IIL 127). - 29. De cohibenda ira. Ilept
826
 THE EMPIRE
aopynotas (III 157). - 30. De tranquillitate animi. Mept edOvpcas (III 187).—31. De
fraterno amore. Iepi pudradeAdias (III 221). — De amore prolis. Ilept ris ets ra
éyyova pidooropyias (III 255). — 33. An vitiositas ad infelicitatem sufficiat. E2
attdpkns 1) KaKia mpds KaKodayoviay (III 268). — 34. Animine an corporis
affectiones sint peiores. ept to8 rérepov Ta Yuyiis 7} TA chpatos dO yeipova
(III 273). — 35. De garrulitate. epi dSoAecylas (III 279). — 36. De curiositate. epi
moAumpaypoovrys (III 311). — 37. De cupiditate divitiarum. Mept diAomAovrias
(III 332).—38. De vitioso pudore. [epi Svowzias (III 346). — 39. De invidia et otio.
epi POovov kai picous (III 365). - 40. De laude ipsius. Mept rod éavrov érauvetv
averiPOoves (III 371). — 41. De sera numinis vindicta. Nept rv br6 Tod Oelov
Bpadews tyswpovpeveny (III 394). — (42.) De fato. [epi efpapyeérys (Il 445). -
43. De genio Socratis. Ilept rod Lwxparovs Satpoviov (I 460). — 44. De exilio.
Uepi duyijs (I 512). — 45. Consolatio ad uxorem. TlapapvOnrixds mpdos Thy
yuvaira (III $33). — 46. Quaestionum convivalium libri IX. Lupmoovaxdv BiBAa
6’ (IV 1). — 47. Amatorius. "Epwtixds (IV 336). — (48). Amatoriae narrationes.
*"Epwrixat dinynoes (IV 396). — 49. Maxime cum principibus philosopho esse
disserendum. Ilepi tod 67 wddAvora Tots Hyeudar Set Tov Prddcogov Siadéyecba
(V/1, 1). — so. Ad principem ineruditum. [pos ayeudva dmaiSevtov (V/1, 11). —
51. An seni sit gerenda res publica. Ei mpeoButépw modrevréov (V/1, 20). —
52. Praecepta gerendae rei publicae. Wodutind mapayyéApara (V/1, 58). — 53. (2)
De tribus rei publicae generibus. [lepi povapyias Kai dnuokpatias Kat dAvyapyias
(V/1, 127). — 54. De vitando aere alieno. [epi rob pr) det SaveiLecBat (V/1, 131).
— (55). X oratorum vitae. Bio. tOv d€ka pytépwv (Bern. V 146). — 56. (2) Aristo-
phanis et Menandri comparatio. Luyxpicews *Apiotoddvouvs Kat Mevdvdpov
emitouy (Bern. V 203). — 57. De Herodoti malignitate. Wept rs ‘Hpoddrov
xakonGeias (Bern. V 208).— (58.) De placitis philosophorum. [epi rv apeokdvtwv
diroadgos duatkdv doypatwv BiBAia «’ (Bern. V 264). — 59. Aetia physica.
Alma dvoixd (V/3, 1). — 60. De facie in orbe lunae. Iepi rob éudatvopevov
mpoowrov TO KUKAw THs ceAjvys (V/3, 31). — 61. De primo frigido. epi rob
mpwtws wvxpod (V/3, 90). — 62. Aqua an ignis utilior. Hdrepov vdwp 7 mop
xpnoywwtepov (VI/1, 1). — 63. De sollertia animalium. Ilérepa t&v Cobwv
dhpovyswrepa (VI/1, 11). — 64. (2?) Bruta ratione uti. Hepi rob ra ddoya Adyw
ypyoba: (VI/1, 76). — 65. De esu carnium I. epi capxogayias a’ (VI/1, 94). -
66. Id. B’ (VI/1, 105). — 67. Platonicae quaestiones. AatwriKxa Cyripara (VI/I,
113). — 68. De animae procreatione in Timaeo. Uepi rijs €v Tipaiw pvyoyovias
(VI/1, 143). — (69). Epitome libri de animae procreatione in Timaeo. ’Emuropn Tob
rept Ths ev TH Tysaiw ybvyoyovias (VI/1, 189). — 70. De Stoicorum repugnantiis.
Hept Lrwiuxdv evavtwwpatwv (VI/2, 1). — 71. Stoicos absurdiora poetis dicere.
"Ort wapadofdrepa of Lrwixol THv Tountdv réyovow (VI1/2, 59). — 72. De
communibus notitiis contra Stoicos. Hept rOv Kowdv evvoidv mpos Tods LtwiKovs
(VI/2, 62). — 73. Non posse suaviter vivi secundum Epicurum. “Ort 00? 4d€ws Civ
gow Kat’ *Exixoupov (VI/2, 124). — 74. Adversus Colotem. Ipos KwAdryv
(VI/2,°173). — 75. De latenter vivendo. Et Kadds elpntar 70 AdBe Biwdcas (VI/2,
216). — (76.) De musica. Iepi povorxjs (VI/3, 1).—77- (?) De libidine et aegritudine.
IIdrepov puyfs % cdparos embupia cat Avan (VI/3, 37). — (78.) Parsne an
repay)
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

facultas animi sit vita passiva. Ei pépos 70 nabynticov Ths avOpwrou puxijs 7)
Svvapis (VI/3, 46). — Various excerpts and fragments in Bern. VIL.

Vitae:
I/1: Theseus-Romulus. Solon-Publicola. Themistocles-Camillus. Aristides-
Cato-maior. Cimon-Lucullus.
I/2: Pericles-Fabius Maximus. Nicias-Crassus. Coriolanus-Alcibiades. Demos-
thenes-Cicero.
Il/1: Phocion-Cato minor. Dion-Brutus. Aemilius Paulus-Timoleon. Sertor-
ius-Eumenes.
II/2: Philopoemen-T. Flamininus. Pelopidas-Marcellus. Alexander-Caesar.
IlI/1: Demetrius-Antony. Pyrrhus-Marius. Aratus. Artaxerxes. Agis and
Cleomenes-T. and C. Gracchus.
Ill/2: Lycurgus-Numa. Lysander-Sulla. Agesilaus-Pompey.
IV/1: Galba. Otho.
In his RE article zIEGLER quotes special annotated editions for the separate
writings of the Moralia, while he gives a summary for the Lives (960). In add.:
R. FLACELIERE, P. Dialogue sur lAmour. Paris 1953. J. DEFRADAS, P. Le Banquet
des Sept Sages. Paris 1954. F. LASSERRE. P. de la Musique. Olten-Lausanne 1954.
W. H. PORTER, Life of Dion. Dublin 1952. s. GEVERINI, Vita di Flaminino. Milan
1952 (with transl.). EUG. MANNI, Vita Dem. Pol. Florence 1953. A. GARZETTI,
Vita Caesaris. Florence 1954. R. DEL RE, Vita di Bruto, 3rd ed. Florence 1953. EB.
VALGIGLIO, Vita di Mario. Florence 1956; Vita dei Gracchi. Rome 1957. —-
Lexicon: D. Wyttenbach. Leipz. 1843; for the Index Graecitatis of the Moralia
(vol. 8 of the edition of D. WYTTENBACH, Oxf. 1830) a reprint is in preparation
by Olms/Hildesheim. — Plutarch was often translated; here only a selection of
recent work is given: French: B. LATZARUS, Vies paralléles. 5 vols. Paris 1951-55.
English: the bilingual ed. of the Loeb Class. Libr.: §. C. BABBITT, H. CHERNISS,
W. C. HELMBOLD, Moralia, 15 vols. planned, partly still in preparation. Lond.
1927-59. B. PERRIN, The Parallel Lives. 11 vols. Lond. 1914-26; repr. up to
1959. - We have a comprehensive and weighty monograph in K. ZIEGLER’s long
RE article 21, 1951, 636-962. A fine characterization in M. POHLENZ, Gestalten
aus Hellas. Munich 1950, 671. Important for P.’s religious sentiments: M. P.
NILsson, Gesch. d. gr. Rel. 2, 2nd ed. Munich 1961, 402. - On biography as a
genre: W. STEIDLE, Sueton und die antike Biographie. Zet. 1, Munich 1951.
A. DIHLE, Stud. z. griech. Biogr. Abh. Ak. Gott. Phil.-hist. Kl. 3. F. 37, 1956, with
important sections on Plutarch and an analysis of the Life of Cleomenes. — Papers:
H. SCHLAEPEER, Pl. und die klass. Dichter. Ziirich 1950. M. A. LEVI, Pl. e il V.
secolo. Milan 1955. R. WESTMAN, PI. gegen Kolotes. Seine Schrift ‘Adversus Colotem’
als philosophiegeschichtliche Quelle. Acta Philos. Fennica 7. Helsinki 1955. E. MEIN-
HARDT, Perikles bei Pl. Diss. Frankf. Fulda 1957. R. FLACELIERE, ‘Pl. et l’épicu-
risme’, in the collective work Epicurea in mem. H. Bignone. Genoa 1959, 197.
W. C. HELMBOLD and &. N. O’NEIL, Pl.’s Quotations. Baltimore 1959. H. WEBER,
Die Staats- und Rechtslehre Pl.s von Chaironeia. Bonn. 1959. A. M. TAGLIASACCHI,
‘Le teorie estetiche e la critica letteraria in Plutarco’. Acme 14, 1961, 71.
828
 THE EMPIRE
LISETTE GOESSLER, Pl.s Gedanken iiber die Ehe. Diss. Basel. Ziirich 1962. — Sub-
sequent influence: R. HIRZEL, Plutarch. Erbe der Alten 4. Leipz. 1912.

2 THE SECOND SOPHISTIC

We saw that Isocrates and Plato sparked off an educational controversy which
influenced intellectual life with a varying intensity until the decline of antiquity.
In this battle for the prerogative of education both sides sometimes crossed the
boundaries and attempted a reconciliation, since both philosophy and rhetoric
claimed the whole of education for themselves. In the Hellenistic era, as defined
by us, the new and the old schools of philosophy were vigorous enough to
maintain their claim. This is very clearly expressed in Cicero’s attempt to bring
about a settlement of the demands of both sides. It was different during the first
two centuries of the empire, before Neoplatonism once more stirred up intel-
lectual life. Now philosophy had left large parts of the disputed field to rhetoric,
which chiefly controlled advanced education and determined the characteristics
of the literature of this time.! The edge had gone out of the struggle with
philosophy; at times there was even a neighbourly relationship. The state
extended its blessing to this development when, in the edict of the year 74,
Vespasian conferred special privileges on grammarians and orators, and on
physicians as well.2 The same emperor initiated the establishment of chairs of
thetoric at a public stipend in Rome. Later philosophy received a similar
endowment from Marcus Aurelius of four chairs in Athens, so that each of the
great systems was given its due.3 But any one who compares the intensity of
rhetorical teaching in the empire with the importance of philosophy at this time
soon observes which side predominated. A course of rhetoric was prescribed for
all who aspired to a higher education. When primary schooling was finished, a
course of wide reading and grammatical instruction introduced the theory of
thetoric. The student was trained by means of various preliminary exercises
(pro-gymnasmata),* such as repeating a story, writing an essay which pains-
takingly enlarged upon some moral theme, a description (ecphrasis), proof or
refutation of the facts of some assumed case, to mention only a few. It will be
noticed how great the influence of this system still used to be in the schools of
our days before it was considered better to let a child give free rein to his
imagination with pen and pencil. Grammatical instruction was followed by that
in rhetoric proper, which was supposed to produce the finished orator and was
concluded with a declamation on some fictional subject.§ The Suasoriae and the

1 H. J. MARROU, Histoire de l’éducation dans Vantiquité. sth ed. Paris 1960 (Engl. London
1956). D. L. CLARK, Rhetoric in Greco-Roman Education. New York, with copious bibl. Good
material in w. KROLL, RE S 7, 1940, 1039 (esp. 1105 ff.); cf. also A. D. NOCK, Sallustius.
Cambr. 1926, XVII.
2 Inscription from Pergamum: R. HERZOG, Sitzb. Ak. Berl. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1935, 967. S.
RICCOBONO, Fontes Iuris Anteiustiniani. 1, 2nd ed. 1941, 420. 3 LUCIAN, Eunuchus 3.
4 On how the grammarians took over part of rhetorical instruction, KROLL (v. supra,
ile di)isMEO, oie
5 W.HOFRICHTER, Stud. z. Entwicklungsgesch. d. Deklamation. Diss. Breslau 1935. Enumera-
tion of the exercises in CHRIST-SCHMID, Gesch. d. gr. Lit. 2nd part/1, 6th ed. Munich 1920,
829
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Controversiae of the older Seneca give a very upsetting picture of the bizarre
imagination with which the most absurd stories were concocted as themes for
these exercises.
Rhetoric had a twofold influence on the poetry of the time. Firstly it could
not help having some influence, because most contemporary poets themselves
passed through schools of rhetoric. But in the second place rhetoric — and this
is the most important factor — cut the ground from under the poets’ feet with
its claims. The development which we saw begin with Gorgias is now com-
pleted. Whole genres like the encomium or the epithalamium, which once
belonged to poetry, have now become the permanent property of rhetoric.
Even before the beginning of the empire, in about the middle of the first
century B.C., the long anticipated reaction against Asianism set in, presenting
itself as a return to the ancient Attic models of style.! This Atticism is met in
Cicero’s polemic as well as in Caecilius of Sicilian Caleacte and in Dionysius of
Halicarnassus. We only possess some fragments of Caecilius’ many works?
which comprised technical treatises on rhetoric, exegetical and lexicographical
writings, apart from a study of the slave war. His book On the Ten Orators
((Ilept tod xapaxrhpos THv Séxa pytépwv) was probably responsible for the
creation of the canon, but it was in any case largely influential for the develop-
ment during the empire. This determined enemy of Asianism (kata Dpuvydv.
Tarr diadeper 6 "Arrixds CiAos Tob >Actavod) was a special admirer of Lysias,
but he did not understand the greatness of Plato’s style. The schoolmaster’s
mind of the stern Apollodorus of Pergamum still had some influence here; he
was probably his teacher, as well as of Augustus. During the following genera-
tion he was opposed by Theodorus of Gadara, the teacher of Tiberius, who had
a more liberal conception. The conflict of these two men, in which the contrast
between analogy and anomaly rears its head again, was carried on by their
disciples in a very remarkable manner. Caecilius wrote On the Sublime (epi
vous), which he saw as a stylistic idea and with which he dealt in a purely
technically descriptive manner. He was answered in a.D. 40 by an anonymous
author who was the pupil of Theodorus in a treatise under the same title, which
has survived in a fragmentary condition.3 For him the sublime cannot be

461 and 2nd part/2, Munich 1924, 931. Three subjects for rhetorical peA¢rac with a pseudo-
historical content now Ox. Pap. 24, 1957, no. 2400.
' For an understanding ofthis controversy the observations of v.WILAMOWITZ, Herm. 35,
1900, 1 are still important. Bibl. £. RICHTSTEIG, Bursians Jahresb. 234, 1932, 1. A. BOULANGER,
Aelius Aristide. Paris 1923, 66.
2 E. OFFENLOCH, Leipz. 1907.
3 According to an incorrect ascription caused by the caption Acovvciov # Aoyyivou
often called Pseudo-Longinus. 0. JAHN-VAHLEN. Bonn IgIo. A. 0. PRICKARD, 2nd ed. Oxf.
1947. H. LEBEGUE, 2nd ed. Coll. des Un. d. Fr. 1952 (biling.). Verbal index: x. ROBINSON,
Indices tres etc. Oxf. 1772. Influence of Democritus’ notion of enthusiasm conjectured by
F. WEHRLI, Phyllobolia fiir P. von der Miihll. Basel 1946, 11. 23. On the work: J. W. ATKINS
Literary Criticism in Antiquity. 2 vols. Lond. 1952 (orig. Cambr. Un. Pr. 1934), 2, Eo
G. M. A. GRUBE, ‘Notes on the Ilepi dyous’. Am. Journ. Phil. 78, 1957, 355. HANS SELB,
Probleme der Schrift Wept typous. Untersuchungen zur Datierung und Lokalisierung der Schrift
sowie textkr. Erl. Diss. Heidelb. 1957 (typewr.).
830
 THE EMPIRE
reached through rules, but it is present wherever a lofty conviction, remote
from the commonplace, is expressed in such a way as to move our souls. This
may happen through the passion of a Demosthenes, the force of tragedy or the
Platonic vision. Our author does not attempt preciser differentiations. Not
small streams, even if clear and useful, but mighty rivers seem to him worthy of
admiration. He praises genius in its gigantic proportions. It is also a rejoinder to
the Callimachean principle which used the same image to express the opposite
idea (v. p. 710).
This anonymous, a talented lone wolf who was far ahead of his age and whose
name we should be only too glad to know, has an understanding of the values
of great poetry which appeals directly to the modern mind. In retrospect he
could seem to represent the break between ancient and modern intellect, but in
fact his treatise could not yet bring about such a change. However strong his
influence may have been in modern times, as for instance in the Querelle des
anciens et des modernes which had such momentous consequences for Homer, in
antiquity he had to give precedence to those who were guided by canon and
mimesis. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who came to Rome in 30 B.c. and worked
there for twenty-two years in close contact with politically and intellectually
leading circles, was more prepared than Caecilius to adopt a conciliatory
attitude. Though he spurned Asianism, his admired model is Demosthenes, not
Lysias (Ilept rijs Anuoabévous A€Eews. 1st Letter to Ammaeus. Letter to Pompeius
Geminus).! In this and in much else his kinship with Cicero is close. He also had
a feeling for the immediate effect of great works of art,? but on the whole he
became the harbinger of a classicism tied to Attic models. When he discusses
authors of the past (Ilept purjoews. Hepi trav apyaiwy pntdépwy), they are
mainly notable for him as samples of style. He delights with many intelligent
judgments of his own or of other origin, but we notice that when he is faced
with a figure like Thucydides (epi tod ©. yapaxrijpos 2nd Letter to Ammaeus),
he appears to be narrow-minded. His most important work (Ilepit ovvOécews
dvopdtwyv)? also means to give stylistic instruction. It deals with the two elements
of style vocabulary (€xAoy7) and the arrangement of words (ovvGears), the
latter with a great many examples. Many of these observations, especially those
on the combinations of sounds, may make us realize to what extent the effects
of ancient literary language are no longer accessible to us. A Handbook of
Rhetoric was attributed to Dionysius; its content is very varied, but it is not
unimportant, probably belonging to the third century A.D. Dionysius the
‘historian’ will be discussed later.
Atticism must in the first place be understood as a reaction against Asianic
bombast; it was, however, a sign of weakness and torpidity that it could only
oppose with a linguistic and stylistic form which centuries ago had been the
t The texts by H. USENER — L. RADERMACHER, 2 vols. Leipz. 1889, 1904 with index by
L. BIELER, 1929. Analysis by ATKINS (v. p. 830, n. 3), 2, 104. G. PAVANO, Dion. d’ Alic,
Saggio su Tucidide. Palermo 1958 (text, transl., comm.).
2 Cf. WEHRLI (v. sup.), 16.
3 Ed. with comm. and transl. w. RHYS ROBERTS, Lond. 1910; id., Three Literary Letters.
Cambr. 1901.
831
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

exponent of great quality, but could be so no longer. This was not the start of
a development which made the ancient forms useful for a new life; it seemed
rather that all that mattered was the cultivation of a mummified style.
The most extreme expression of Atticism was the lexicographical collection
of authorized linguistic material. The work of the Hellenistic age and its pursuit
of glosses, which had had entirely different causes, was now carried on in a
singular manner. In this confusion two centres of radiation were the Atticist
collections of Aclius Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Pausanias of Syria during
the Hadrianic period.! Later Atticists made extensive use of them; their source
had been Diogenianus of Alexandria,? who can be traced back via Julius Vestinus
to the Aristarchean Pamphilus of Alexandria. In the middle of the first century
a.p. the latter recorded the lexicographical tradition in a lexicon of glosses in
ninety-five books, in this way pointing back via Didymus to the great age of
Alexandrian scholarship. Diogenianus is one of the main sources of the very
valuable lexicon of Hesychius of Alexandria (sth c.).3 We add here a reference
to the Byzantine Suidas (10th c.),* who represents the last, often doubtful yet
indispensable, reservoir of the ancient literature of collectanea.
To return to Atticist lexicography, a great deal of what was produced in the
second century A.D. has survived. The boundaries of what was linguistically
permissible wavered. Moeris is the strictest in his Aéfeus "Atzexai.5 Another
Atticist of strict observance was Phrynichus; we have excerpts of his two works
(Arrixcoryns, 2 books, and Lodiotexi mpotapackevy, 37 books, dedicated to
Commodus).® His successful rival in the competition for the Athenian chair in
thetoric, Julius Polydeuces (Pollux) of Naucratis, was less orthodox in linguistic
matters and considerably more interested in technical questions. His Onomasti-
cum,” preserved in excerpt, is an important source for many such matters as the
stage and masks. The Orator’s Lexicon of Harpocration (Aéfers trav Séxa pyto-
pwv)® of the same time uses good sources and being preoccupied with technical
matters, it provides important material on the Athenian judicial organization.
Atticism was not unopposed. An anonymous lexicon, the Antiatticista,9
' For both v. the collection of fragments of H. B. ERBSE, Untersuchungen zu den attiz. Lexica.
Abh. d. deutsch. Akad. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1949/2. Berl. 1950. The work offers a great many
important observations on the origin and tradition of Atticist glosses. W. SCHMID, Aftizismus
1-4. Stuttg. 1887-96 is still a mine of information, although the necessarily incomplete
manuscriptural basis calls for caution.
2 ERBSE (v. sup.), 36.
3 The ed. ofM.SCHMIDT, 4 vols. Jena 1858-68 (ed. min. 1867) is now being replaced by
K. LATTE: I (A-A) Copenhagen 1953.
* Suda, not Suidas — a title, not a personal name — according to F. DOLGER, Der Titel des
sog. Suidaslexikons. Sitzb. Bayer. Akad. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1936/6. Edition: A. ADLER, 5 vols.
Leipz. 1928-38.
5 I, BEKKER, Berl. 1883 with Harpocration.
6 *Exdoyy from ’Arrixiorys: W. G. RUTHERFORD, Lond. I88r. Excerpt from Nod.
TpoTrapackevy: J. V. BORRIES, Leipz. IQIl.
7 #. BETHE, 3 vols. Leipz. 1900-37.
8 w. DINDORF, 2 vols. Oxf. 1853, cf. supra, n. 5. The Lexicon rhetoricum Cantabrigiense,
E. O. HOUTSMA, Lugd. Bat. 1870 is dependent on Harpocration.
° In I. BEKKER’S Anecdota, Berl. 1814/21, 78.
832
 THE EMPIRE
purposely enlarges the circle of admissible authors and linguistic usages. Lucian
poured his ridicule over the hyperpuristic fanatics who profitably adopted a
handful of ancient Attic slogans in order to be able to join in (Rhet. Praec. 16 f.).
The last fling of this tendency is the xevrov«euros (Athen. 1, 2 e) whose intel-
lectual scope was exhausted with the search for verification in Attic (ketrae 7) od
Ketrat).
There was a great deal of opposition against this Atticism which broke off all
contact with the living language (ovv7#eva), but nevertheless its influence was
decisive for the solidification of linguistic and intellectual life through its
classicism, in whose soil no new growth could thrive. It was something excep-
tional that a writer like the astrologer Vettius Valens wrote his guide to the
interpretation of the stars (Av@oAoyiat, 9 books)! without Attic colouring.
It was indispensable to discuss Atticism for the review of rhetoric under the
empire. But it would be wrong to call it despotic and to characterize the second
sophistic through it alone. It is no less one-sided to describe this period simply as
Asianic. The fact that many threads crossed one another in this epoch has long
caused great confusion. It is Norden’s merit to have demonstrated in his Antike
Kunstprosa? that it is not a matter of either one thing or another, but of an
antagonism continuing through late antiquity between Atticist classicism and
the legacy of Asianism, which was never quite extinguished. In the theory and
practice of the rhetorical style this applied especially to the compositio verborum
(ovvBeots), while in vocabulary (€«Aoy#) Atticism could gain more ground.
Norden demonstrated that in each case the individual author demands special
analysis of the influence that operated in his style.
The expression [second sophistic] is used by Philostratus in his Lives of the
Sophists. Actually it is misleading, for on the one hand this period is essentially
different from that of the old sophists, while on the other there is no question of
a new beginning, but of a development which led from Gorgias via Isocrates,
the Peripatos and the Hellenistic age in action and reaction, on to the empire.
Philostratus (1. 19) considers that Nicetes in the epoch of Nero was the revivalist
of the sophistic movement, followed by his pupil Scopelianus. Nicetes came
from Smyrna, his pupil, a Clazomenian, taught in his teacher’s native town;
both orators followed the Asianic tradition. This also applies partly to Polemon,
with whom we reach the era of the Hadrianic attempts at renewal. At the order
of the emperor he was permitted to deliver the festive oration in front of the
Olympieum in Athens on the occasion of its dedication in 131. We have two
Declamations3 by him in which two fathers of Marathon fighters killed in battle
contend for the honour of giving the funeral oration. He gives more pleasure
with his Physiognomy,* which is only known to us through an Arabic translation
and the paraphrase of the physician Adamantius. Of the older group of these

' w. KROLL, Berl. 1908.

2 rst vol., 4th impr. Berl. 1923. Ibid. 353, 1 bibl. on the old controversy.
3 H. HINCK, Leipz. 1873. i
4 G. HOFFMANN in R. FORSTER, Physiognomici Graeci et Latini 1, Leipz. 1893, 98; FORSTER,
ibid. 295.
833
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

sophists mention must be made also of Lollianus of Ephesus,t who carried ona
rhetorical practice and wrote a Techne, in which he elaborated the status doctrine.
The early second sophistic brought forth a man who, though a product of his
intellectual milieu, showed flashes of aspiration towards a higher form of
expression. Dion of Prusa in Bithynia (circa 40-120) surnamed Cocceianus upon
being granted citizenship under Nerva, and Chrysostomus since the third
century, began his chequered career as an orator, occasionally writing polemics
against the philosophers. In his Praise of Baldness Synesius has preserved a trifle
(Ilatyvov) by Dion, the Praise of Hair. Eulogies on a parrot and a gnat are lost.
Internal and external influences were to give his life another direction. Musonius
Rufus, who was also Epictetus’ teacher and against whom Dion had written in
his early years (IIpés Movadyov), won him over to the Stoa, whose elements of
kinship with Cynicism had a special influence on Dion. In the year 82 he was
condemned to exile by Domitian, probably in connection with the fall of his
patron Flavius Sabinus, so that Italy and his Bithynian homeland were closed to
him. Until the death of this emperor he led a wandering existence in needy
circumstances, travelling far, especially in the north-east of the empire. The
sentiments of his orations of this period are typical of the life of a Cynic
beggar-philosopher. Under Nerva and Trajan he once more rose to distinction,
but he remained faithful to his ethical mission. He combined his praise of
morality with a Hellenism whose features originated in a romantically glorified
past. Thus he also followed Attic models, but with moderation, just as generally
what he had to say mattered more to him than linguistic artistry. The change of
his style to serious dignity, which was connected with his approach to philo-
sophy, is characterized by Synesius in an important passage in his Dion. Under
his name we read eighty speeches, of which, however, the Corinthiaca and the
second declamation On Tyche belong to his pupil Favorinus. This sophist, who
also wrote compilations (Ilavrodam) ioropia, 24 books) wrote in a style which
paraded sound figures and rhythmical combinations, and which is in striking
contrast with the simpler diction of Dion. A Vatican papyrus, discovered in
1931, with a fragment of the treatise On Exile (Ilept duyis; no 330 P.) gives an
idea of Favorinus’ artificial style, in this case surfeited with quotations. Dion’s
genuine speeches are important documents in the history of culture, especially
those addressed to cities like Rhodes, Alexandria, Tarsus and Celaenae (31-35).
The Euboicus (7) with its picture of economic misery in Greece may be added
here; it is read especially for the idyll of the huntsman’s family whose simple
withdrawn life is depicted to present a contrast with urban restlessness and

t About this city in the cultural life of the time J. KEI, ‘ Vertreter der zweiten Sophistik
in Ephesos’. Ost. Jahrb. 40, 1953, 5. There Dionysius of Miletus taught, Favorinus of Arelate
settled part of his conflict with Polemon, Aelius Aristides won victory wreaths and Hadrianus
of Tyre conducted a school for a long time. The sophist T. Flavius Damianus was a special
benefactor ofthe city. 2 In NORDEN, (v. p. 833, n. 2), 355.
3 This is certain in the Corinthiaca, of which NORDEN (VE ps S395 ni 2) 4228 gives an
important analysis. There is much in favour of ascribing the Tyche oration to Favorinus.
The 30th speech, the Charidemus, is also of suspect authenticity; cf. M. P. NILSSON, Gesch. d,
gr. Rel. 2nd vol. 2nd ed. Munich 1961, 401, 2.

834
 THE EMPIRE

corruption.! The Trojicus (11) is one of the versions of Homer, the unconstrained
kind of sport with the myths in which this era delighted. A presentation of the
Trojan War which denied the fall of the city will have been welcome to the
Roman public. The four Royal Speeches (1-4) belong to the philosophical
debates on the ideal ruler. Dion’s religious sentiment is beautifully manifest in
the Olympic Speech (12) which contains some noteworthy remarks on the
importance of art for the notion of the divine. When he uses the refined form of
the diatribe to call with real conviction for moderation and self-control, he is at
his most charming. The last thing we hear about Dion’s life has to do with a
lawsuit which he had to conduct against some malicious accusers in 111/12
before the younger Pliny as governor of Bithynia. The letter which Pliny wrote
to Trajan on this occasion has been preserved (Ep. 81), and so has the emperor's
answer, a fine monument to a noble disposition.
During the peak of the second sophistic, which coincided with the favourable
economic conditions of the second century, we first meet the splendid figure of
the Marathonian Tiberius Claudius Atticus Herodes (101-177). He was taught
by Favorinus and Polemon, and numbered among his pupils successful orators
like Aelius Aristides, as well as the imperial princes Marcus and Lucius. He stood
in the centre of a rhetorical tradition which endeavoured to retain relations with
philosophy. His rhetorical fame is matched by his renown as a patron of the arts.
This rich and distinguished man, who held the office of consul in Rome in 143,
erected through his generosity splendid monuments in numerous places in
Greece, above all, of course, in Athens, where his Odeon is still the scene of
concerts and performances in our days. This Attic writer, who called the style of
the Asianic Scopelianus “inebriated’, knew the significance of moderation and
adhered to it also as an Atticist, although he was instrumental in bringing about
the dictatorship of an archaizing purism. He wrote a great deal, letters, diatribes
and other work; one speech, Ilepi zoArre/as,” has been preserved; its model was
Thrasymachus’ speech For the Larisaeans (v. p. 357). He managed the ancient
style so well that time and again attempts have been made to date it in the fifth
century.
The second century is the most flourishing period of the orators whom
Ludwig Radermacher aptly described as concert-orators. Their ancestry goes
back to Gorgias, in that they excelled in the two forms cultivated by him, the
improvisation and the carefully prepared declamation. The veneration in which
these men were held can only be compared with the excess of the modern
worship of film stars and the like. Aelius Aristides won the greatest fame among
these people, not as an extempore orator but as the master of the artistic oration.
He was born in Adrianutherae in Mysia in 129.4 In his youth he travelled through
Egypt. His lecture tours carried him far through the Greek world, but also to
1 The interesting and successful experiment of translating the prose of the Euboicus into
German hexameters was done by H. HOMMEL, Dion Chrys., Euboische Idylle. Ziirich 1959
(Lebendige Antike). 2 Edition: E. DRERUP, Paderborn 1908.
3 So also H. T. WADE-GERY, Class. Quart. 39, 1945, 19, with survey of the controversy.
4 His indication of the birth-constellation (50, 58 K.) would also agree with 117, but the
late date is more probable.
835
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Rome. He spent a great deal of time in Smyrna, whose pride he was. He died
about 189. Aristides was a follower of Isocrates, for he, too, claimed the whole
of education for himself and even wanted to take issue with Plato on this basis.
His speech On Rhetoric (45 D.) turns especially against the latter’s Gorgias and
claims to prove the primacy of rhetoric as well as its character as a techne. These
attacks were taken seriously in neo-Platonic circles; we know from Suidas that
Porphyry retorted. In the speech On the Four (46 D.) he opposes Plato’s de-
valuation of Miltiades, Cimon, Themistocles and Pericles. The same romantic
glorification of the Athenian past also occurs in the Panathenaicus (a3)D)) ales
obvious that he was a convinced Atticist, as shown by his Monody (18 K.) on
Smyrna after its destruction by an earthquake in 178.' He exerted all his influence
for the reconstruction of the city, to which purpose he devoted his Smyrnaicus
(17 K.), as proved by the open letter to the Roman emperors (19 K.).
The highly artistic form cannot conceal the fact that the intellectual material
of these speeches is mostly traditional stuff. It could be called an Atticism of
themes. Nevertheless references to the historical situation are not completely
absent. This applies especially to the Roman Oration (26 K.), which Michael
Rostovtseff? has taught us to understand as the best description of the empire in
the second century. It represents Rome as the great bringer of peace in a gigantic
combination of city-states, which itself represents a polis.
The fifty-five speeches offer a variegated picture. Panegyrics on cities occur
side by side with declamations on themes of classical history, occasional speeches
and open letters. How the orators wanted to replace the poets everywhere is
demonstrated by the Addresses to the Gods (37-46 K.), which were to precede the
great speeches as once the ‘Homeric’ hymns the performances of the rhapsodes.
The six speeches On the Holy (‘Iepoi Adyou; 47-52 K.)3 form a chapter of their
own, interesting rather than attractive. For seventeen years Aristides suffered
from a disease which the physicians could not cure, but of which Aesclepius
cured him after a lengthy treatment. He feels that he has been singled out for the
special protection of the god who made him healthy in Pergamum and ensured
his road to fame. These records have much significance for us as evidence for
the personal relations which a highly educated man of the second century
entertained with a god, but Aristides’ vanity, hypochondria and primitiveness
which bordered on an Epidaurian belief in miracles is anything but attractive.
A rhetorical textbook, consisting of two separate parts, dealing with the
political and the simple speech, was attributed to Aristides, probably not until a
late date.
Philostratus is more colourful and interesting than the formally precise
Aristides. But the question arises at once: Which Philostratus? And with this
question an extremely difficult problem emerges. In some confused articles

‘ Important NORDEN (v. p. 833, n. 2), 420.

* Gesellschaft und Wirtschaft im rom. Kaiserreich t, Leipz. 1929, 112. Monograph with text,
transl. and bibl.: JAMES H. OLIVER, Trans. of Am. Philos. Soc. N. Ser. 43/4, 1953, 871-1003.
3 An excellent study in A.-J. restucrkre, Personal Religion among the Greeks. Univ. of
Cal. Pr. Berkeley 1954, 85.
836
 THE EMPIRE
Suidas presents three related Philostrati, to whom a fourth must be added, as we
shall show. When we hear that the first of these, a writer of many speeches,
lived in Rome during Nero’s reign and was the father of the second Philostratus
who worked in Rome under Septimius Severus, we already find ourselves
seriously confused. Suidas mentions as the third a Philostratus who was a great-
nephew and the son-in-law of the second. This may be doubted, but it must be
admitted that such a double relationship is possible. Since the Philostratus who
wrote the later Icones describes the writer of the earlier version (which in our
opinion is the work of the second Philostratus) as his maternal grandfather, we
have to take into account a fourth bearer of this name as well.
Various writings survive under the name of Philostratus, and the attribution
to the various Philostrati poses a literary-historical problem. The solution which
is the most likely (but no more than that) allots the surviving works to the
second Philostratus with two exceptions, while the first remains in complete
obscurity. This second Philostratus was born between 160 and 170, had as his
teachers famous orators like Damianus of Ephesus! and Antipater of Hierapolis,
the educator of Geta and Caracalla, and came to Rome under Septimius. It was
probably his teacher Antipater who introduced him at court, where the Syrian
Julia Domna, Septimius’ ambitious consort, set the fashion. After the dramatic
death of his patroness and her son Caracalla in the year 217 Philostratus probably
returned to Athens to work there as a sophist. According to Suidas he died there
under Philip the Arabian (244-249).
With complete confidence we assign to this Philostratus the Lives of the
Sophists (Biot cogrotdy, 2 books), whose doctrinal importance we discussed
earlier. The work begins with the founders of the ancient sophistical rhetoric,
Gorgias being allotted the position due to him, and then passes on to the
founders of the new direction up to the author’s own era.
We are equally sure of attributing to him the Life of Apollonius of Tyana (Ta
és tov Tvavéa ’AzroAAd ov, 8 books). This absurd but interesting work, which
chronologically preceded the Lives of the Sophists, is dominated by the interests
of Julia Domna and the members of her circle. The historical Apollonius lived
in the first century A.D. and wrote a variety of Neopythagorean works, among
them a life of the Master. There may be some genuine letters among the
seventy-seven preserved.3 At an early stage tales of miracles were attached to
this figure, which made him into a great magician. Philostratus, however, seeks
to raise him from a ydéns of a lower order to the level of a Neopythagorean
ascete and prodigy, a true Getos avip. By combining this sort of aretalogy with
themes of the wonderful travel-romance, he has an opportunity to colour
passages like the Indian sojourn of the sage with oriental touches and thus to
cater for the taste of his high patroness.

iC O8345 Wak
2 Apart from the analysis in F. SOLMSEN, RE 20, 1941, 139, also H. HELM, Der ant. Roman-
2nd ed. Gott. 1956, 62. On the type L. BIELER, Weios dv7p. 2 vols. Vienna 193 5/36.
3 On the letters v. WILAMOWITZ, Herm. 60, 1925, 307; now KI. Schr. 4, 394. The text in
R. HERCHER’S Epistolographi Gr. 1873, 78.
837
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

The remaining works can be allotted only with some likelihood. There is the
Heroicus, this bizarre, but insufficiently utilized, dialogue about the local heroes
between a vigneron in the Thracian Chersonese and a Phoenician traveller.
The emendations of Homer which are inserted, are a literary game, but the
defence of the belief in heroes should by no means be dismissed as such.t The
Gymnasticus, which is valuable for the many details of contests, sports and
training methods, also aims to give an appearance of importance to ancient
traditional material by means of verbal artistry. Possibly the most charming
work under the name of Philostratus is the Icones (2 books, but there is also a
division into 4), the description of a collection of paintings in Naples, in which
the ecphrasis, a standard exercise in the school of rhetoric, is turned into a
masterly epideixis. Philostratus’ main purpose is, of course, to allow his co¢ia,
his wit, full scope in learned references, interpretations and conclusions, but —
whether the collection existed or not — there is no doubt of its relation to actual
paintings. This work affords the best opportunity for studying Philostratus’
prose which, influenced by Atticist purism, still preserves a playful freedom and,
in spite of all affectation, even achieves some charm in its best form.
The small dialogue Nero, in which the philosopher Musonius describes the
tyrant’s hybris, was transmitted with the tradition of Lucian. It is difficult to
pass judgment on the Collection of Letters, transmitted in three versions, con-
taining erotic trifles and letters to various addresses. The seventy-third letter,
which defends the sophists before Julia Domna, is noteworthy. This much can
be said, that no decisive grounds against their authenticity have been put forward.
To the third Philostratus, who was born in 190/91 and who achieved great
fame as an orator, we can only attribute a treatise on epistolary style, the Open
Letter to Aspasius ofRavenna, the imperial secretary and incumbent of the Roman
chair of rhetoric. The Dialexis, added by Kayser, which seeks to settle the
opposition between nomos and physis, is anonymous as far as we are concerned.
The fourth Philostratus produced a later collection of Icones, in which he
laboriously copies his grandfather.
The much-admired shows of celebrated oratorical performers, the endless
conflict between the philosophical successors’ realms, the steady advance of the
irrational in the form of an escapist mysticism or banal superstition — all this is
accompanied, during the Antonine era, by the laughter of a man whose outlook
was scepticism and whose trade ridicule. Samosata, in which Lucian was born
about 120, was situated on the upper Euphrates and was the capital of Comma-
gene; he occasionally calls himself a Syrian and it is important to observe, apart
from biographical interest, that he entered the Greek world from the outside
and learnt its language at school (Bis accus. 27). His debut as a sculptor’s
apprentice with his uncle came to a swift and painful conclusion, as he tells in

" On the Heroicus as an answer to Dictys, bibl. in w. KULLMANN, Die Quellen der Ilias.
Herm. E 14, 1960, 104, I.
* On the controversial question SOLMSEN (v. sup.), 168. Also A. LESKY, ‘Bildwerk und
Deutung bei Ph. und Homer’. 75, 1940, 38 in which the contradiction between Ph.’s
interpretation and an apparently present object is evaluated.
838
 THE EMPIRE
the Somnium. His career then took him to the school of rhetoric, but his educa-
tion gave him more than the skilful application of rhetorical rules. Wide reading
gave him a knowledge of the range of forms of Attic prose as well as of Greek
poetry from Homer to the Alexandrians. This does not mean that he penetrated
to the problems of great poetry; he mastered the themes and the outlines. He
has an abundant stock of quotations, or preferably, allusions. The richest
treasure which the past opened up to him was the world of New Comedy. It
has been aptly said that Lucian’s linguistic Atticism is accompanied by a factual,
though such an antiquarian attitude does not exclude the infiltration of contem-
porary elements.! Diligence and good taste achieved for the non-Greek an
astonishing linguistic control of Attic Greek, which comes to a certain degree
of life in the pleasant simplicity of his style. He was entitled to pillory the exag-
gerated purism of Atticism in his Lexiphanes and Pseudologista, for it was in the
very moderation which he knew how to observe that the effect of his style was
founded.
Initially Lucian was very successful as a bombastic sophistical orator. He
travelled a great deal and visited many parts of the civilized world, Asia Minor,
Greece, Italy and even Gaul, where he remained for quite a long time. Con-
siderable evidence of his oratorical activity survives: practice speeches (Abdicatus,
Phalaris, Tyrannicida), artistic descriptions (De Domo with the ecphrasis of a state
hall, Hippias with one of a bath), the typically sophistical praise of the fly in the
Muscae encomium and the prolaliae, little rhetorical appetizers which were
offered before the longer epideixis.? Of these the De electro, Harmonides, Herodotus
and Scytha probably belong to this period; this date is also possible for other
prolaliae (Bacchus, De dipsadibus, Zeuxis), though the Heracles, which justified
Lucian’s renewed sophistical activity, shows that he wrote this sort of thing also
in his old age.
His restless mind, which was always ready to take the opposite view, could
not find lasting satisfaction in the sophist’s occupation. In his Bis Accusatus (Ats
Katnyopovpevos) he had to defend himself, on the Acropolis of Athens
against Rhetoric, which he gave up, according to his own indication (32) at the
age of about forty. Later, in the Rhetorum praeceptor (‘Pyrépwv diSdoKados) he
poured all his ridicule over a trade which made impudent trickery a successful
business. Stylistic pomposity is the butt of the Pseudosophista, which is akin to
earlier mentioned writings against an exaggerated Atticism.
In the passage referred to above of his Bis Accusatus, which is important for
its biographical details, he mentions his connections with the Academy or the
Lyceum. It has been assumed that this denotes the beginning of a philosophical
period and attempts have been made to utilize especially the Nigrinus to prove
such a development. This difficult dialogue depicts Lucian visiting the Platonic

1 Shown by Dez (v. inf.).

2 K. MRAS, ‘Die zpoAakd bei den griech. Schriftstellern’. Wien. Stud. 64, 1949, 71, who
discusses this form in Lucian, Apuleius, Dion of Prusa, Himerius and Choricius, singling out
the formal affinity ofthe first two authors mentioned; cf. id., ‘Apuleius’ Florida im Rahmen
ihnlicher Lit.’. Anz. Osterr. Akad. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1949, 205.
839
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Nigrinus in Rome. The story is put in the framework of the dialogue, preceded
by a dedicatory epistle to the philosopher. It has been conj ectured that the latter’s
lecture has been abbreviated and the dialogue form added later, though there is
little to support this. On the other hand, it may be possible for the following
reasons. In the first place there is a tendency to contrast in Nigrinus’ speech an
ideal Athens with the vain emptiness of Rome;! and secondly there is the fact
that Nigrinus — the name is probably not a pseudonym — made an impression on
Lucian. But this was not sufficient to make a philosopher of him, and he never
was one. Modern scholarship? has rejected the image of a Lucian who passed
through profound changes. Of course this vivacious, if always superficial, man
also had dealings with philosophy. Cynics and Epicureans offered much tojhis
scepticism, others like the Stoics repelled him, but he never came to an under-
standing with any of them.
The effect of Cynical popular philosophy on Lucian was much greater. He
had already written dialogues before Menippus became his model. He even felt
that the invention of satirical talks, in which elements of the Socratic dialogue
and of comedy were utilized, was his special achievement (Prom. in verbis, Bis
acc., Bacchus, Zeuxis). The Dialogues of the Gods (OeBv didAoyor) belong to this
eatly group of dialogue writing; the Prometheus is added to these, and they were
carried on in the Dialogues of the Gods of the Sea ?EvdAuor diaAoyou). In all of
these he played an ironically naive game with themes which classical poetry
provided in abundance, without allowing the destructive trend to become
evident. To Lucian the myths were no more real than they had been to the
Hellenistic poets. But it is possible to observe a characteristic difference in
subject matter. While the Hellenistic writers prefer to ferret out little-known
local legends in order to indulge in their erudite sport, Lucian remains on the
wide road of what every one knows. The Dialogues of the Hetaerae (“Eraipixot
didAoyou) drew largely on comedy themes; the Timon with its story of riches
regained and the warding off of parasites owes a great deal to comedy, but
anticipates the dialogues which Lucian wrote under the influence of the popular
philosophical diatribe of Menippus of Gadara3 (v. p. 670). In this the sceptic and
scoffer, the enemy of uncritical acceptance of tradition, has found the tool
which suits him. In Bis accus. the personified dialogue itself states how the
changes to which Lucian subjected it found their perfection in the form of
Menippus. The dialogues of the years 161 to 165 show how much more cutting
and nimble Lucian had become.
His rationalism aims its sharpest darts at religion. In the Icaromenippus the
Cynic flies to Heaven to rise above the confusion of opinions; the Iuppiter con-
futatus (Zeds éAeyyopevos) shows the highest god in his doubtful position with
regard to fate; the Iuppiter tragoedus (Zeds tpaywdSds) shows an assembly of
agitated gods, because their non-existence is to be proved in an Epicurean-Stoic

' Strongly stressed by AUR. PERETTI, Luciano, un intellettuale greco contra Roma. Florence
1946. Bibl. on p. 147; also casTER, Luc. (v. inf.), 374. A. QUACQUARELLI, La retorica antica al
bivio. Rome 1956.
Esp. CASTER, Luc. (v. inf:). 3 Details given in HELM’s book mentioned inf.
840
 THE EMPIRE
debate; and in the Deorum concilium (Oedv exxAnoia) Momus complains of the
influx of new gods. A good while later Lucian continued mockery of this kind
in the Saturnalia. To what extent he depended in all this on literary influences is
demonstrated by the observation that his attacks did not concern so much
phenomena of his time, like astrology, belief in demons or the new mysticism,
but rather the traditional picture of religion presented by poetry.
Such literature takes a specifically Cynic turn, when the impudent sport with
the myths contrasts an insight into the happiness of those without desires with
the folly and absurdity of the rich. This is the final wisdom which in the Menip-
pus (M. 4) Nexvoyavreia) the significantly chosen title-figure learns upon going
down into the underworld. Cataplus, Charon, Dialogues of the Dead (Nexpixot
diaAoyor) and the Gallus ("Overpos 7) dAextpudiv) move in the same sphere; in
the Navigium (IIAotov7)edyat), whose date is somewhat later, Lucian laughs
at the folly of human wishes. The bitter scorn with which the figures in the
underworld describe the fates of the rich and the powerful lets us hear the voices
of the famished and suppressed who created the prosperity of the time without
sharing in it.
Philosophy also gets its turn, as in the frequently mentioned Bis accusatus, in
the Convivium ((Lvpadaov 7) AamiPar) with its caning of philosophers, in the
Vitarum auctio (Biwy mpaots) with its auction of philosophical ways of life. A
small piece of palinode is contained in the Piscator (“AAveds 7) dvaBtodvres), in
which Lucian defends himself against the degenerated progeny of the great
philosophers. The Fugitivi (Apazrérav) also pursues this line of thought. In the
Philopseudes! Lucian very maliciously made the philosophers themselves narrate
the most fabulous ghost stories, among them the Sorcerer’s Apprentice.
We add the Toxaris from among the dialogues without Menippean character-
istics, because it offers, like the Philopseudes, a cycle of stories. Several of these
dialogues introduce the writer under the Hellenized name of Lycinus. The most
important among them is the Hermotimus, which rejects all dogmatic philosophy,
the Stoa first of all, under the banner of scepticism, not with any scholarly
profundity, but with great earnestness. The Eunuchus moves along the same
lines: Lycinus depicts the struggle over the chair of philosophy of Athens (176)
in all its deplorable details. In two dialogues (Eixdves. ‘Yrep tv eixdvey) full
of flattery for Pantheia, the mistress of the emperor Verus, Lucian confesses that
he did not act much better himself. Of the Lycinus dialogues the De Saltatione
(Ilepi dpyijcews), at one time wrongly declared spurious, is the most interesting
from a cultural-historical point of view.
Although Lucian had warned a certain Timocles earnestly against the life of a
dependent court tutor in a letter De mercede conductis (epi t@v emi probe
ovvovtwv), he had to submit to such an existence himself in his old age, when
he accepted a bread-and-butter post in Egypt.” His Apology justifies this step.
Some more work of importance is produced in the later period of his literary
activity, the dialogue making way for the form of the letter. The treatise De
1 J. scHWARTZ, Phil. et de Morte Peregrini. Paris 1951 (with comm.).
2 Probably the one of secretary a cognitionibus; cf. CASTER, Luc. (v. inf.), 369, 11.
841
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

historia conscribenda (Il@s Set toropiav ovyypadew),! written as a letter, turns

against historiography as it was cultivated at the time of the second Parthian war.
In the manner of Hellenistic argumentation it defined the aim and boundaries of
the genre. The two books of the Verae Historiae AAnO9 Suny7juara) form the
incidental music to it, amusingly parodying the fantasy of the romances of
adventure. Also in the form of letters are two writings in which Lucian con-
tinues his battle against the irrational, but now with reference to his own time.
De morte Peregrini (Ilept ris rod Wepeypivov tedevrijs)? describes the theatrical
suicide by burning of the fanatic Peregrinus Proteus in Olympia (165 or 167),
the Alexander (A. 7) yevddpavris)3 the life and work of the fake prophet and
founder of a cult Alexander of Abunotichus, the complete counterpart of
Philostratus’ miracle-believing Life of Apollonius. The work implies the death of
Marcus Aurelius (180); it is unknown how long after Lucian died.
Lucian read widely and learnt a great deal in the school of rhetoric, but he
did not have the gift of making the fruits of his learning his own property. On
the other hand the opinion of modern scholars who would deprive him almost
completely of imagination, goes a great deal too far. The mise en scéne and com-
position of his works plead for the author. To what extent he did indeed depend
on literature was already emphasized in connection with his attitude to the
myths and religion.
An observation about the circumstances and background in which Lucian
cast most of his works must be added here.* In this respect he is as much an
Atticist as in his language, but it is obvious that his knowledge of the Attic
world does not go beyond some particulars derived from literature, and does
not penetrate any deeper. At times he mixes in some contemporary details and
then it is hardly possible to decide whether he does so unconsciously or is
playing an ironic game. In the repetition of words and phrases, too, he betrays
himself as a hack who battens on tradition and is skilful at utilizing it.
Here we insert Artemidorus of Daldis in Lydia as an Atticist of a special kind,
of whom we have a Book of Dreams (’Ovetpoxpitixov, 5 books).s He was
probably a Stoic, and so he was permitted to make the belief in dreams into a
system and to illustrate it with examples.
The industrious cultivation of sophistical show-speeches, together with train-
ing in rhetoric, which was compulsory for a higher career, are unthinkable
without an abundant theoretical literature, of whose volume the surviving
information and books give evidence. In the beginning of this section mention

G. AVENARIUS, Lukians Schrift zur Geschichtsschreibung. Diss. Frankfurt 1954, published

Meisenheim a. Glan 1956, with ext. bibl.
DDO VAI aS ie
3M. CASTER, Etudes sur Al. ou le faux prophéte de L. Paris 1938 (with text and transl.).
4 v. DELZ in the Diss. mentioned below.
5 R. HERCHER, Leipz. 1864. Repr. in prep. by Olms/Hildesheim.
° R. VOLKMANN, Die Rhetorik der Griechen und Romer. 2nd ed. Leipz. 1885 (3rd ed. 190T)
has not yet been superseded. Cf. also p. 829, n. I. G. A. KENNEDY, ‘The Earliest Rhetorical
Handbooks’. Am. Journ. Phil. 80, 1959, 169. In KROLL, RE S 7, 1940, 1132, 42 an instructive
list of occasions for oratorical epideixis.
842
 THE EMPIRE

was made of the controversy between Apollodorus of Pergamum and Theo-

dorus of Gadara and its continued effect on their pupils. A brief sketch was also
given of school exercises in rhetoric. The oldest, and at the same time most
important, collection of such Progymnasmata which we possess is the one of
Aelius Theon of Alexandria,! who probably lived in the later first century A.D.
Its influence lasted well into the Byzantine era.
During the empire the most important author in the field of rhetorical theory
was Hermogenes of Tarsus.? Born in 160 he shone originally as an oratorical
prodigy, but when grown into manhood he turned his back upon this fashion-
able business to prove himself to be a theoretician of intelligence and good taste:
He also wrote Progymnasmata. His main achievements, however, are the renewed
formulation of Hermagoras’ status doctrine (v. p. 789 f.) in the treatise Hep!
ordoewv, and the systematic treatment of the forms and medium of speech in
the two volumes of his Doctrine of Style (Mepi ‘Se@v). It is entirely based on an
analysis of classical models, especially Demosthenes, so that it would be permis-
sible to speak of a rhetorical Atticism. Some similarity with the Rhetorical
Techne> (v. p. 836), wrongly attributed to Aristides, proves that Hermogenes
climbed up over his predecessors’ shoulders, since this work appeared before his,
although it was not simply his source. Other works by this author are On the
Finding of Subject Matter (Ilept edpécews, 4 topor) and On Aids for a Vigorous
Style (Ilepi peBodou Sewdrynros). A section of the tradition ascribes to him
Progymnasmata, but they have now been correctly athetized. Hermogenes’
influence grew gradually, and became canonical in late antiquity. In the fourth
century Libanius’ pupil Aphthonius of Antiochea* successfully recast Hermo-
genes’ system in his Progymnasmata, which partly supplanted its model and
had a strong influence on the Byzantines. The Commentaries on Hermo-
genes’ form a literature apart reaching from late antiquity into Byzantine
rhetoric.
The unhappy third century was still quite fertile in the field of rhetoric, if fer-
tile is the right word for it. The Anonymus Seguerianus (Téxvy tod aoActixod
Adyov)® is important for the discussion of analogy and anomaly in rhetoric. The

1 L. SPENGEL, Rhet.gr.2. Leipz. 1854, 59. In the early Middle Ages THEON’s Progymnasmata
were read in Armenia. Edition of an Armenian translation with the Greek original by JA. A.
MANANDJAN, Eriwan 1938. Information about the manuscripts in Wyestnik Matenadarana 3.
Eriwan, Ac. of Sc. of the Arm. SSR 1956, 451. ITALO LANA, I ‘Progimnasmi’ di Elio Teone 1.
La storia del testo. Turin 1959. A second volume will be devoted to the Armenian translation,
which contains all the progymnasmata not occurring in the Greek tradition, except the last.
2 H. RABE, Rhet. gr. 6. Leipz. 1913; cf. KROLL (v. p. 842, n. 6), 1127. 1135. W. MADYDA,
‘Uber die Voraussetzungen der hermogenischen Stillehre’. Aus d. altertumswiss. Arbeit
Volkspolens. D. Ak. Wiss. Berl. Sekt.f.Altertumswiss. 13, 1959, 44-
3 w. SCHMID, Rhet. gr. 5. Leipz. 1926.
4 H. RABE, Rhet. gr. 10. Leipz. 1926. Id.,
Jo. Sardianus, Commentarius in Aphth. progymn.
Rhet. gr. 15. Leipz. 1928.
5 CHR. WALTZ, Rhet. gr., 9 vols. Stuttg. 1832-36 is still the main source for the texts;
Syrianus edited by H. RABE, Leipz. 1892/93. Surveys in CHRIST-SCHMID, Gesch. d. gr. Lit.
and part/2, 6th ed. Munich 1924, 935 and KROLL (v. p. 842, n. 6) 1137.
6 Text in L. SPENGEL—C. HAMMER, Rhet. gr. 1. Leipz. 1894, 352.
843
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

tractates of Menander of Laodicea (Ilepi émSexrexv)! and the earlier-

mentioned pseudo-Dionysian Techne (p. 831) give rules for the various genres of
oratory. Cassius Longinus, philologist, orator and philosophically interested
anti-Roman counsellor of Zenobia of Palmyra and victim of her fall, is fairly
clearly outlined as a person; apart from a letter in Porphyry’s Life of Plotinus
only some fragments survive of his commentary on the metrical treatise of
Hephaestion and of his Rhetoric.” Another figure of the third century is Apsines
of Gadara with his Techne? which has been preserved in a revised form.

Aelius Aristides
The tradition seems to point to old editions in groups. As regards the best
manuscript, the Laurentianus 60, 3 (written in 917) B. KEIL found the first half in
the Parisinus 2951 in 1887. Editions: w. DINDORE, 3 vols. Leipz. 1829 (scholia in
the 3rd vol.); only partly superseded by B. KEIL, 2 vols. Berl. 1898; repr. 1958
(17-53 with new enumeration). The spurious Rhetorica: w. scumrD, Leipz.
1926. F. W. LENZ, The Aristeides Prolegomena. Leiden 1959. A number of tractates
about the author’s life and work which so far had received little attention. —
Papers: A. BOULANGER, Ael. Ar. et la sophistique dans la province d’Asie au IT®
siecle de notre ére. Paris 1923. U. V. WILAMOWITZ, Der Rhetor Ar.’. Sitzb. Berl.
Ak. Phil.-hist. Kl. 30, 1925, 333. C. A. DE LEEUW, Ael. Ar. als bron voor de kennis
van zijn tijd. Amsterdam 1939.
The Philostrati
The tradition, which varies from work to work, in the editions of xk. L.
KAYSER, 2 vols. Ziirich 1844-53, then Leipz. 1870-71. Special editions; Gymn.:
J. JUTHNER, Leipz. 1909 (with comm. and verbal index). v. NocELLI, La gin-
nastica. Trad. e comm. Naples 1955. Icones: Seminariorum Vindob. sodales,
Leipz. 1893 (with important indices). The later Icones: c. SCHENKEL and E.
REISCH, Leipz. 1902 (with add. of the 14 descriptions of statues by Callistratus of
the 4th century a.p.). In the Loeb Class. Lib. (with Engl. transl.): Vit. Ap.:
F. C, CONYBEARE, 2 vols. 1912-17. Vit. Soph. (with Eunapius): w. c. WRIGHT,
1922; repr. 1952. The older and later Icones (with Callistratus): A. FAIRBANKS,
1931. The Letters (with Alciphron and Aelian): a. R. BENNER and F. H. FOBES,
1949. — The best monograph is the article by F. sorMsEN, RE 20, 1941, 124. On
the language w. SCHMID, v. p. 832 n. I.
Lucian
The following writings, not mentioned before, complete the list of
works: Adversus indoctum; Anarcharsis; De calumnia; Demonax; Dissertatio cum
' L, SPENGEL, Rhet. gr. 3. Leipz. 1856, 331. It is not certain, however, which of the two
tractates is Menander’s. c. BURSIAN, Der Rhetor Menander und seine Schriften. Abh. Bayer
Ak. I. Cl. 16/3, 1882 (with text) ascribes the Aca:pécers trav émSerixav to Menander ihe
tractate Hepi embdeucreux@v to an anonymous.
2 L. SPENGEL—C. HAMMER, Rhet. gr. 1. Leipz. 1894, 179.
3 L. SPENGEL—C. HAMMER (v. sup.), 217; cf. KROLL (v. p. 842, n. 6), 1123.
844
 THE EMPIRE
Hesiodo; Ludicium vocalium; Pro lapsu inter salutandum; De luctu; De sacrificiis.
Much spurious material has found its way into the tradition, among it two
works which claim special interest. De Syria dea deals with the worship of
Atargatis in Syrian Hierapolis, in the Ionian dialect and in the manner of
Herodotus. Those who do not try to read parody and irony between the lines at
all costs, as partly done again by Bompaire (v. infra) must deny that this work of
religious-historical importance is Lucian’s, as argued recently by j. pez, Gnom.
32, 1960, 761. The same holds good for linguistical reasons with regard to the
Lucius (Aovwos 7) dvos), in spite of several attempts to rescue it. The amusing
tale of the metamorphosis into an ass of a precocious young man is an excerpt of
the lost Metamorphoses of Lucius of Patrae, from which Apuleius adapted his
Golden Ass. On the relationship of the versions A. LESKY, ‘ Apuleius von Madaura
und Lukios von Patrai’. Herm. 76, 1941, 43, with a survey of the investigations;
Q. CATAUDELLA, La novella greca. Naples n.d.152. Further spurious works, for
which we follow Helm: Amores; De astrologia; Charidemus; Cynicus; Demosthenis
encomium; Halcyon; Longaevi; Nero (v. on Philostratus); Ocypus; De parasito;
Patriae encomium (athetesis uncertain); Philopatris; Tragoedopodagra. The epigrams
are also doubtful. — x. mras has done fundamental work for the tradition: Die
Uberlieferung Lukians. Sitzb. Akad. Wien. Phil.-hist. Kl. 167/7, 1911. He traces
back the transmission to an ancient collective edition and a selection of the most
popular works. — Editions: Complete only c. JacosiTz, 4 vols. (with verbal
index), Leipz. 1836-41, ed. min. 1871-74. The editions of F. FRITSCHE, 3 vols.
Rostock 1860-82, and J. SOMMERBRODT, 3 vols. Berl. 1886-99 remained
unfinished. F. N. NILEN only made a start: Fasc. 1/2, Leipz. 1906-23. Special
editions in the notes, in add. x. MRAS, Dial. Mer. Berl. 1930. Id., Die Hauptwerke
des L. griechisch und deutsch. Munich 1954 (with crit. notes; v. p. 539 for brief
history of the text and survey of the manuscripts). In the Loeb Class. Libr.:
A. M. HARMON, 8 vols. 1913 ff.; repr. until 1959 (with Engl. transl.). — Lukian.
Parodien und Burlesken. Auf Grund der Wielandschen Ubertragung by &. ERMATINGER
and K. HONN. Ziirich 1948 (Bibl. d. Alten Welt). — Scholia: H. RABE, Leipz. 1906.
— Still important r. HELM, L. und Menipp. Leipz. 1906. Also by him the RE
article 13, 1927, 1725. M. CASTER, L. et la pensée religieuse de son temps. Paris 1936.
AUR. PERETTI, Luciano, Un intellettuale greco contra Roma. Florence 1946. J. DELZ,
L.s Kenntnis der athenischen Antiquitaten. Diss. Basel 1950. J. BOMPAIRE. Lucien
écrivain. Imitation et création. Bibl. Ec. Franc. d’Ath. et de Rome. 190. 1958. —
Later influence: A. v. COLL, Luciano de Samosata en Espaiia (1500-1700). La
Laguna 1959.

3 HISTORIOGRAPHERS AND PERIEGETES

Even though Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Diodorus were approximately

contemporary and their historical writings, if they can be given this title, con-
sisted of compilations, we draw a firm distinction between them. While Diodorus
was mainly concerned with the collection of material, which he used without
much pretence of literary style, the literary critic and pace-maker of Atticism
wanted to put his principles into practice in his historical work. When he wrote
25 845
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

his Ancient Roman History (‘Pwpaixi) dpyarodoyia)! and published it in 7 B.c., he

had hardly any misgivings about the difficulty of completing Polybius with a
historical study of Rome’s early period from 264 B.c. upward. Where today we
often still grope in the dark, he trusted the Roman annalists without second
thought.? Historical criticism was foreign to him; his boundless admiration for
Roman virtus made him erect a monument for the Romans which even his com-
patriots, so often otherwise inclined, were supposed to admire. Its rhetorical
configuration is evident, especially in the many long speeches. Occasional
attempts at dramatization betray Hellenistic tradition. The style, which borrows
freely from the old historians and orators, attempts to achieve a classicist finish
with Attic colouring.3 Of the twenty books, the first ten are completely pre-
served, the eleventh in fragments. For the remainder we depend on Constantine
Porphyrogennetus’ collection of excerpts and a Milan epitome.*
More than a century and a half later another Greek undertook a history of
Rome, this time the whole of it. Appian of Alexandria worked in Rome as a
lawyer in Hadrian’s era; Fronto, the champion of Latin archaism, was his
friend; he was appointed procurator, probably in Egypt. He wrote a Roman
History (‘Pwpaika)s in his old age, probably finishing it in 160.° He differs from
Dionysius in many respects. The style of his compact work is considerably less
pretentious, while for the contents he could lay claim to an original, not badly
contrived, arrangement, although it lacked a personal conception and critical
penetration. Of the twenty-four books, which were still known to Photius, the
first three dealt with the early history: 1. era of kings, 2. *ItaAuKy, 3. Navverewn.
Next follows the separate discussion of the individual peoples and countries as
they had come to terms with Rome in the course of history: 4. KeAtuxy,
5. LuKeAukn Kal vyowt7iKy, 6. "[Bypiky, 7. “AviiBatkny, 8. AvBuen, 9. Maxe-
dovexn Kat “TAdvpixy, 10. ‘EAAnviKy Kal “lwviky, 11. Lupiaky,? 12. Mibpi-
Sdérevos. Then the five books on the civil war were inserted (13-17 ’EudvAlwy),
which had a prooemium of their own, followed by Egypt (18-21 Atyumriaxav),
and leading up to the author’s own time, 22. ‘Exatovraeria, 23. Aaxcky,
24. "ApaBuos.
1 Cc. JACOBY, 5 vols. Leipz. 1885-1925. With Engl. transl. 5. CARY, 7 vols. Loeb Class.
Libr. 1937-50. The fragments of a preliminary work Ilepi ypovw» F Gr Hist 251.
2 Still important: BE. scHwARTZ RE 5, 1903, 934; now Griech. Geschichtsschreiber. Leipz.
1957, 319. E. GAIDA, Die Schlachtschilderungen in den Ant. Rom. des D. v. H. Breslau 1934.
A. KLOTZ, “Zu den Quellen der Arch. des D.v.H.’. Rhein. Mus. 87, 1938; id., Livius und seine
Vorganger Il. Leipz. 1941.
3s. BK, Herodotismen in der Arch. des D.v.H. Lund 1942; id. ‘Eine Stiltendenz in der rém.
Arch. des D.v.H.’. Eranos 43, 1945, 198.
: Ambros. Q 13 sup. ANGELO MAI, Romanorum antiquitatum pars hactenus desiderata.
Milan 1816.
5 Teubner-edition: I. Pp. VIERECK—A. G. ROOS, 1939. II. L. MENDELSOHN-P. VIERECK,
1905. A papyrus no. 66 P. with Engl. transl. H. wuire, 4 vols. Loeb Class. Libr. 1912/13;
repr. up to 1955. E. GABBA, App. bellorum civilium |. 1. Bibl. di studi sup. 37. Florence 1958.
° In the prooemium Appian calls himself procurator of the emperors Marcus Aurelius
and Verus, i.e. the years 161-169.
7 The Map§u«y appended here in the manuscripts is a Byzantine addition, due to Appian’s
promise (11, 51. 14, 18. 17, 65) of a Parthian history.
846
 THE EMPIRE

Books 6-8 survive complete, also the second part of9and 11-17, among them
consequently all the five books on the civil war. In addition there is the intro-
duction to Book 4, a piece about Macedon from 9 and various fragments. The
question of sources" is particularly difficult. The desire to quote specific names
has tempted many to make uncertain hypotheses. This much has been demon-
strated, at any rate, that Appian did not pledge himself to only one source in the
various parts of his work. He may not be counted among the important histor-
ians, but his modus operandi seems to have been less primitive than has some-
times been believed.
Even in this time with its retrospection and narrow linguistic purism, notable
work could be done whenever a capable mind and clear thinking did not allow
the fashions of style to interfere. Flavius Arrianus of Nicomedea in Bithynia?
(c. 95-175) sought, like others, a model in a past which was 500 years away.
He wished to be a new Xenophon, as he himself stresses several times.3 Like
his model he flirted with philosophy as a young man when he heard Epictetus
in Nicopolis and to this circumstance we owe all that we know of this philo-
sopher’s doctrine. When after Epictetus’ death unqualified writers published the
notes which Arrian had made during his Stoic studies, he decided to publish
them himself. Of the eight books of Diatribes four survive, as well as the
Enchiridion, the summary of Epictetus’ ethics dedicated to a certain Messalinus.
Photius mentions twelve books of Homilies, which should perhaps be under-
stood to mean that in addition to the eight books of Diatribes there were four
books of Apomnemoneumata and that together they formed a corpus of twelve
books. In the surviving books Epictetus’ colloquial style has been preserved.
They represent a valuable tradition, but not a literary achievement of
Arrian’s.
This Bithynian of a distinguished family, on whom his native city had con-
ferred the life priesthood of Demeter and Core, entered upon a splendid career
when the great friend of the Greeks was on the imperial throne. He rose to the
dignity of consul suffectus, and administered the province of Cappadocia as
legatus Augusti pro praetore. He probably assumed office in 130, and there is
inscriptional evidence for his tenure in 137. He travelled extensively on imperial
business, came to know Noricum and Pannonia and saw himself faced with such
heavy tasks as defending his province against the Alani. His earliest known work,

1 Still important, E. SCHWARTZ, RE 2, 1895, 216= Griech. Geschichtsschreiber, Leipz. 1957,

361, who assumed Latin sources for the whole work, but warned against rashly assigning
authors. More recent works in Fifty Years of Classical Scholarship, Oxf. 1954, 190, n. 119 f.
P. MELONI, II valore storico e le fonti di libro maced. di A. Ann. fac. lett. Cagliari 23, Rome 1955.
E. GABBA, A. e la storia delle guerre civ. Florence 1956. Against an overestimation of Asinius
Pollio as a source for this section M. GELZER, Gnom. 30, 1958, 2106.
2 a. G. ROOS, Flavii Arriani quae exstant omnia. 2 vols. Leipz. 1907/28 (without Epictetus,
for whose editions v. bibl. on philosophy). Bilingual: p. CHANTRAINE, L’Inde. 2nd ed.
Coll. des Un. d. Fr. 1952. E. ILIFF ROBSON, Anab. and Ind. 2 vols. Loeb Class. Lib. 1929/33.
F Gr Hist 156. — Pap. Soc. It. 12, no. 1284 proved by x. LATTE, Nachr. Akad. Gott. Phil.-hist.
KI. 1950, 23, to be a fragment of Ta per’ ’AAcéavdpov. Best discussion in the RE article by
E. SCHWARTZ 2, 1895, 1230= Griech. Geschichtsschreiber, Leipz. 1957, 130.
3 Peripl. 1, 1. 12, §. 25, 1. Tact. 29, 8. Cyneg. 1, 4.
847
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the Periplus Ponti Euxini,! which he dedicated to the emperor Hadrian in 130/31
is connected with his office. It is a combination of a report about an official
voyage from Trebizond to Dioscuras in the eastern corner of the Pontus, which
he had previously written in Latin, with two other passages, the whole forming
the story of acircumnavigation of the Black Sea coast. His source was Menippus
of Pergamum. During his governorship he also published his Tactical Manual
(Téyvq taxruK7) in the year 136. Here, too, analysts have detected material from
an official report on infantry tactics combined with a literary tradition which had
a precedent in Aelian’s Tactics and goes back to Asclepiodotus (v. p. 773 n. ai
The Alanice probably belongs to this group of writings, since Arrian had to
protect his province from an attack by the Alani in his capacity as governor.
The Florentine codex of tacticians (Laur. 55, 4) has preserved a section of it
("Exragéis car’ ’Adavayv).
Even before Hadrian’s death (138) Arrian had left Cappadocia. We next find
him in Athens in completely different circumstances. He was granted citizen-
ship in the deme Paeana, was eponymous archon in 147-48 and later prytanis of
the Pandionis.2 We do not know to what extent these changes were due to his
own wish or to political conditions. But this much is clear that Athens, the
ancient cultural centre turned into a museum, meant in a sense a fulfilment for
Arrian. Here he could devote himself to his literary labours with all his powers.
The surviving Cynegeticus reveals by its title that he followed Xenophon. But
his ambition went further; he now schooled his style with Herodotus and
Thucydides, setting himself the object of becoming the historian of important
epochs as well as of his own native country. Presumably the lost biographies of
Timoleon and Dion, to which curiously one of the highwayman Tilloborus is
added, were preliminary exercises to his more ambitious undertakings. To this
group of historical works of the first Athenian years belongs the work which
has passed on Arrian’s name through the ages, the Anabasis of Alexander. The
title implies his reverence for Xenophon. The division into seven books no
doubt had the same purpose, but the contents show that he is at least the equal
of his model in historical ability. He was happy in his choice of sources (above
all Ptolemy, also Aristobulus). He managed to separate the vulgate from the
serious tradition and his was the great merit of having preserved the image of
Alexander from being distorted in the fog of fiction. Arrian wrote the Indice to
complete the Anabasis. Here he also succeeded in going to the right sources by
consulting Nearchus (p. 578), Megasthenes (p. 771) and Eratosthenes. In this
work the imitation of Herodotus was augmented by an imitation of the Ionic
dialect. It is the same with the Bithynica which related in eight books the history
of his native country from the mythical beginnings to the death of Nicomedes
Philopator (74 B.c.). The Byzantines still knew this work. The Parthica (17
1 Cf. R. GUNGERICH, Die Kiistenbeschr. i. d. griech. Lit. Miinster 1950, 19. Another Periplus
ee Euxini (Geogr. Gr. Min. 1, 402) is a late compilation. The inscription with his governor-
ship DESSAU, Inscr. Lat. sel. 2, Berl. 1906, no. 88or.
? The inscriptional evidence in scHWARTZ (v. p. 847, n. 1).
3 On the form of the name L. RADERMACHER, Anz. Akad. Wien. Phil.-hist. K1. 1935, 19;
1936, 8.
848
 THE EMPIRE

books) and the History of the Successors (Ta jeer? >AA€EavSpov) are also lost. If
we may trust Photius, the work had ten books ending in the middle of the
events of 321; it probably remained unfinished.
Arrian also was an Atticist, but with Xenophon’s simplicity for a model he
avoided any exaggeration; he rejected the ornamentation of rhetorical figures
and spoke a language which seems to fit all that we know of him.
Walitdemacrexbanihalt’ century later another Bithynian, who also rose to the
highest positions in the empire, became:a historian Cassius Dio Cocdeianis!
(c. 155-235) of Nicaea, a relative of Dion of Prusa, had the expectancy of
a distinguished career through his father’s senatorial rank and function as a
governor. Soon after Commodus’ accession (180) he came to Rome, entering
the Senate during this emperor’s reign. Under Pertinax he was made a praetor,
under Septimius Severus he served as consul suffectus. In 216 he accompanied
Caracalla on his journey to the Orient. Macrinus entrusted him as curator ad
corrigendum statum civitatum with the settling of conditions in Pergamum and
Smyrna. But he enjoyed the special favour of Severus Alexander, during whose
reign (222-35) he administered the proconsulate of Africa as well as the imperial
provinces of Dalmatia and Upper Pannonia; in 229 he became consul ordinarius
with the emperor as his colleague. But at this point his career ended. The strict
discipline which he maintained had made him unpopular with the soldiers and
the guard, so that the emperor himself advised him not to spend the period of
his second consulate in Rome. He left the city and the public service and with-
drew to his native Bithynia, where he passed his last years.
He began his writing in the service of Septimius Severus, on whom, like
others, he at first placed great hopes. He wrote of the dreams and signs which
resulted in the calling of Septimius to the throne. In doing so he hardly commit-
ted a sacrificium mentis, since he combined a belief, unburdened with philosophy,
in the control of providence with that in omens. He soon followed this up with
a treatise on the death of Commodus and the subsequent events, also for the
gratification of the emperor. He inserted excerpts from both in his great work.
When we hear of dreams which Cassius Dio believed to confirm him in his
calling as a historian (72, 23), we may interpret this as referring to restraints
which he had to overcome. To write a history of Rome from its beginnings was
a gigantic undertaking, and it is easy to believe Dio’s claim that he collected for
ten years and wrote for another twelve until he had reached Severus’ death (211).
He carried his work beyond this date, concluding with his consulate in 229.
Finally his Roman History grew into eighty books. The structural principle was
the annalistical, as presented by a considerable part of his sources. Yet within
this he attempts to combine relationships in time and space to the best of his
ability. Inevitably there are considerable differences in the presentation of

« The justly praised edition of PH. U. BOISSEVAIN (5 vols. Berl. 1895-1931, new impr. of
the first 4 vols. without alteration in 1954) contains in vol. 4 the Index Historicus of H.
SMILDA, in vol. 5 the Index Graecitatis of M. NAWIJN. In BOISSEVAIN also the history of the
transmission. Teubner-edition by J. MELBER, 3 vols. 1890-1928. With Engl. transl. E. CARY,
9 vols. Loeb Class. Lib., 1914-26.
849
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

individual parts. A first long section (51 books) extends from Aeneas to Augustus
as the founder of the monarchy. In this part especially Dio’s conviction operates
that the description of detail is incompatible with the dignity of history (¢yxos
ris tatoptas 72, 18) and its task of stressing the main features. Vividness of
narrative was not his strong point generally, but on the other hand he did not
reject dramatization altogether, as shown, for instance, in the Vercingetorix-
scenes. Harsh Schwartz’ judgment may be, but on the whole it must be said that in
this part particularly the limits of Dio’s powers of presentation are demonstrated.
In the description of the empire up to Marcus Aurelius’ death the intellectual
control over his material was impaired by the fact that the loyal supporter of the
monarchy saw it from the outset as a permanent reality and was consequently
unable to do justice to the development of the principate. The speech in defence
of monarchy which Maecenas delivers in Book 52 is written so much in the
spirit of Dio’s age that it was thought to be an intentional interpolation of a
doctrine. The description becomes, of course, more colourful and direct when
Dio deals with contemporary history. He was aware of this and thought it
necessary to offer a reason and an apology for it (72, 18).
The problem of sources is particularly difficult in this gigantic work. Even
after the exhaustive discussion in the article by E. Schwartz there are many
unsolved problems. For the first six centuries of Rome annalistical sources seem
to be much in the foreground, from Book 36 onward Livy becomes important;
it is difficult to evaluate the importance of Tacitus. Schwartz probably went too
far when he wanted to deny the originality of the latter’s picture of Tiberius in
order to separate Dio from him altogether, although the same features turn up
in his description. There is much uncertainty here, and this emphasis on single
points must not conceal the multiplicity of the problems of sources.?
Of this work, which the Byzantines still possessed for the greater part,
Books 36-60, extending from 68 B.C. to A.D. 47 survive, with some gaps in the
beginning and end. There are also some fragments of Books 79 and 80 on
twelve sheets of parchment of Vat. Gr. 1288. Some compensation for the lost
material is provided by the Byzantines who utilized Dio. In the eleventh century
Joannes Xiphilinus recast Books 36-80 into a history arranged according to
emperors. For Antoninus Pius and the early period of Marcus Aurelius he
already found a gap present, according to his own indication (70, 2). Later, in
the twelfth century, Ioannes Zonaras excerpted Dio 1-21 and 44-80 for Books
7-12 of his ’Exvropt) toropudv. Of other aids for the reconstruction special
mention must be made again of the collection of excerpts by Constantine
Porphyrogennetus.
Dio Cassius’ style} should be re-examined, especially to ascertain how far
varieties are due to the influence of his sources. His aim was an Atticist archaism,
his models were Thucydides and Demosthenes, mutually very different authors.

' M. HAMMOND, ‘The Significance of the Speech of Maecenas in Dio Cassius Book LII’.
Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 63, 1923, 88.
* Some bibl. in Fifty Years (v. p. 847, n. 1), 191, n. 122 f,
3 Bibl. in Fifty Years (v. p. 847, n. I), 191, n. 121.
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 THE EMPIRE
He deviates from Arrian in using rhetorical artifices, also sound-figures, and
especially in the frequent and long speeches.
Herodian,! a Hellenized Syrian, is a good deal below the level of Dio Cassius
as a historian; he was about twenty years younger than his predecessor. He was
also a public servant, though not in the high offices of Dio Cassius. His History
of the Emperors after Marcus (Tis werd Mdpxov Baowrelas tatopiat, 8 books)
goes up to the accession of Gordian III (238). The narrative of this gloomy period,
riddled with flat gnomae, opens up no useful aspects and is only valuable as a
source. The language is meant to be Attic Greek, but is only partly successful; it
betrays the influence of the sophistical rhetoric of the time.
Finding an Attic author among the historiographers of the empire is nothing
short of a miracle. P. Herennius Dexippus (F Gr Hist 100), who was born
circa 210 and lived until the time of Aurelian, is surrounded by the splendour of
the ancient Attic tradition. A member of the family of the Ceryces, he was the
incumbent of a high priesthood (iepeds tavayys), basileus, eponymous archon
and played a meritorious part in the great festivals (T4=IG II/III? 3669). But
he also proved himself in the face of danger when he repulsed the Heruli from
Athens with a quickly collected force in 267.
His main work was the great Chronicle (Xpovexy ioropia, in at least 12
books), which extended from prehistory to 269/270. Here a thread becomes
visible which runs from the universal history of Ephorus via works like the
Bibliotheca of Diodorus finally to the Byzantine universal chronicles in the style
of Ioannes Malalas (6th c.) or Ioannes Antiochenus (7th c.).
Dexippus also wrote a Scythica, in which he dealt with the invasions of the
Germans from 238 up to at least 270. The four books of History of the Diadochi
(Ta per’ “AAdEavdpov) we may fairly certainly consider to be an excerpt of the
work of Arrian with the same title.
Dexippus’ style was praised by Photius (F Gr Hist 100 T 5), sharply con-
demned by Niebuhr, warmly commended by Norden,” censured by Schwartz?
as obscure and far-fetched, while Jacoby is non-committal. It is obvious that a
standard is lacking which will keep our criticism at least free from the grossest
subjectivity. It is clear that Dexippus was no mean stylist, that he observed
Thucydides as his model,* and also that any modern criticism rests on a narrow
foundation, as substantially only speeches have been preserved.
Eunapius of Sardes (circa 345-420)5 joined on to Dexippus’ chronicle the
1 Edition: K. STAVENHAGEN, Leipz. 1922. A somewhat higher appreciation of the author
in F. ALTHEIM, Lit. u. Gesellsch. im ausgehenden Altert. 1, 1948, 165. Opposing him, with
analysis of the first book £. HOHL, Kaiser Commodus und Her. Sitzb. Akad. Berl. Kl.f.Gesell-
schaftswiss. 1954/1; cf. A. BETZ, AfdA 10, 1957, 255.
2 Ant. Kunstprosa 1, 4th impr. Leipz. 1923, 398.
3 RE S 5, 1930, 293=Griech. Geschichtsschreiber, Leipz. 1957, 290. On Dexippus also
ALTHEIM (v. supra, n. 1), 175.
+ Cf. J. stEIN, Dexippus et Herodianus rerum scriptores quatenus Thucydidem secuti sint. Diss.
Bonn 1957.
5 The historical fragments of Eunapius and those of the subsequent historians in vol. 4 of
Miiller’s old Fragm. Hist. Gr. The sophists’ biographies: In the Loeb Class. Libr. w. c.
WRIGHT (with Philostratus’ Vit. Soph.) 1922; repr. 1952 (with Engl. transl.).J.GLANGRANDE,
851
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

fourteen books of his history (‘Yrourijpara toropixd), which dealt with the
period of 270 up to 404. This enemy of Christianity dedicated his work to his
friend Oribasius, a medical author and court-physician of Julian. Only some
excerpts survive in Photius, in Constantine’s collection of excerpts and in Suidas.
We have all of the Lives of the Sophists (Blo. Lofvordv), which deals mainly
with the Neoplatonists. It is written in an artificial style, but it gives a glimpse of
the life and work of orators and philosophers in fourth-century Constantinople
and the Greek cities of Asia Minor.
Eunapius’ historical work was followed in approximately chronological
connection by that of Olympiodorus of Egyptian Thebes, which describes the
period of 407 to 425 in twenty-two books and was dedicated to Theodosius II
(408-450).! The sophist Priscus of Thracian Panion lived under this ruler and a
good while after him. Apart from rhetorical exercises he wrote a Byzantine
History (8 books), which probably extended up to 472. Only fragments survive.
The most important of these with the description of the embassy to Attila, in
which he participated in 448, occurs in the excerpts of Constantine. The latter
and Photius have also preserved fragments of the Byzantiaca (7 books) by
Malchus, who carried the history on to 480.
The six books of the New History (Néa toropia) of Zosimus,* who wrote in
the end of the fifth century, have been preserved. They provide a concise survey
of the emperors up to Diocletian, and a more extensive presentation of the
years 270-410. The work is poor in style and in its utilization of sources, but it is
noteworthy because of its trend; its writer explains the decline of Roman power
through the renunciation of the faith of their fathers.
In accordance with the pattern of universal history, Hesychius Illustrius of
Miletus (F Gr Hist 390) went far back, beginning his Chronicle with Bel of
Babylon and carrying it on to Justinian’s reign. Since the latter’s capable historian
Procopius of Caesarea with his eight surviving books on the wars of his imperial
master belongs already in the Byzantine era, we conclude with Hesychius a
series which began for us with Hecataeus, another Milesian.
We add here, though with the reservation of quasi-historical, the Strategemata
(8 books) of the Macedonian Polyaenus.3 He dedicated his collection of various
stratagems in 162 to the emperors Lucius Verus and Marcus Aurelius as a sort of
tactical aid; but it is not a soldier who speaks, but an orator who has literally
gleaned his material and offered it with a poor attempt at Atticizing. The
Rome 1956, on the basis of a new collation including the important Codex Laur. 86/7
(r2th/13th c.) refutes v. LUNDsTROM’s thesis that Eunapius’ Life of Libanius, transmitted
separately, represents a personal recensio. Id., ‘Vermutungen und Bemerkungen zum Text
der Vit. Soph. des Eun.’ Rhein. Mus. 99, 1956, 133; ‘Herodianismen bei Eun.’. Herm. 84,
1956, 320; ‘Caratteri stilistici delle Vit. Soph. di Eun.’ Boll. del Com. per la prepar. di Ed. Naz.
dei Class. Gr. e Lat. N.S. 4, 1956, 59. For all these authors Constantine’s excerpts are impor-
tant; edition by PH. U. BOISSEVAIN, C. DE BOOR, TH. BUTTNER-WOBST, 4 vols. Berl. 1903-
1906.
* The fragments, including an excerpt of Photius and a quotation in Zosimus 5, 27, 1, in
MULLER, Fragm. Hist. Gr. 4, 1885, 58.
* L. MENDELSSOHN, Leipz. 1887; repr. by Olms/Hildesheim in prep.
3 J. MELBER, Leipz. 1887.
852
 THE EMPIRE

Strategicus of Onasander,! who wrote under Claudian, and the Tactica of a

certain Aelian,* who probably worked under Trajan and largely depends on
Asclepiodotus, are not actually technical manuals either. In both cases the author
makes a display of knowledge acquired through reading and deals with the
subject matter from a scholar’s point of view.
Basically the Strategemata is a collection of military curiosities, typical of a
literature which had become sterile in its traditionalism and was prepared to
seize upon the bizarre for stimulation. It is due to the malice of the transmission
that we must here insert Phlegon of Tralles, a freedman of Hadrian’s (F Gr Hist
257). His voluminous chronicle of the Olympiads (Odvpmovixdv kal ypévev
ouvaywyy, 16 books; there was also an edition in 8 and an epitome in 2 books),
extending from the start of the numbering of the Olympiads up to Hadrian’s
death, is lost. Also lost are his works on Roman topography and festivals as well
as a description of Sicily. On the other hand, we have a treatise On Marvels and
Long-Lived People (Ilepi @avpaciwy Kat waxpoBiwv),3 about ghosts, changes of
sex, gigantic men, monsters and other matters of this kind.
A popular literary genre of this epoch was the medley, as whose representa-
tive we have already mentioned Favorinus of Arelate (p. 834). Claudius Aclianus
(circa 172-235)* offers an opportunity to become familiar with this form of
amusement, obviously a necessity in times without a firm intellectual structure.
In Rome this Praenestinian was a pupil of the sophist Pausanias and acquired
some ability in writing Attic Greek, of which he was extremely proud.5 We
have the seventeen books of Animal Stories (Ilepi Cwv i8cdrn Tos), the result of
industrious excerpting and compiling, in which he hardly had recourse to the
ancient authors but limited himself mainly to collections. The stoicizing trend
towards demonstrating the wisdom of nature is something like a guiding
principle in this accumulation of zoological curiosities. Points of contact with
the Physiologus® show that Aelian draws on some kind of widespread paradoxo-
graphy. In its most ancient form this collection of marvels from natural history
could have been produced in Alexandria in the second century a.p. Later, cast

! The edition of H. KOcuLy, Leipz. 1860 has been superseded by w. A. OLDFATHER,

Aeneas Tacticus, Asclepiodotus and Onasander. London 1923. A. DAIN, Les Manuscrits d’Oné-
sandros. Paris 1930. On bibl. of military lit. cf. on Biton, p. 794, n. I, and M. FUHRMANN,
Das systematische Lehrbuch. Gottingen 1960, 182, 3.
2 H. KOCHLY-—W. RUSTOW, Griech. Kriegsschriftst. 2/1. Leipz. 1855. A. DAIN, Histoire du
texte d’Elien le tacticien des origines a la fin du moyen dge. Paris 1946.
3 With Jacosy, who gives the text in F Gr Hist 257, we assume a work with a double
title, but this cannot be considered completely certain.
4 R. HERCHER, 2 vols. Leipz. 1864/66. With Engl. transl. (with Alciphron’s and Philo-
stratus’ letters): A. R. BENNER and F. H. FOBES, Loeb Class. Libr. 1949. The Animal Stories with
Engl. transl.: A. F. SCHOLFIELD 3 vols. Loeb Class. Libr. 1958/59 (3 in prep.). A catalogue of
the animals in Aelian by H. GOSSEN, Quellen und Stud. z. Gesch. d. Naturwiss. u. d. Medizin,
4, 1935, 18.
5 Cf. the conclusion of the animal stories. Philostratus, Vita Soph. 2, 31, I commends
him. His ideal of style was dféAeva, artful simplicity.
6 Edition: F. sBORDONE, Milan 1936; cf. M. WELLMANN, Der Physiol. Phil. Suppl. 22,
1930. O. SEEL, Der Physiologus. Transl. and comm. Ziirich 1960 (Lebendige Antike).
2B2 853
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

into a Latin version and provided with Christian symbolism, it largely influenced
the world of ideas in the Middle Ages.
The counterpart in the human sphere, as it were, of the Animal Stories, are the
Miscellaneous Stories (IlouxiAn toropta, 14 books), whose first part, however,
also deals with matters of nature. The complete version of individual passages in
Stobaeus and Suidas shows that what we possess are often excerpts. Twenty
Peasants’ Letters, Atticist in form and content, have also been handed down.
Stoicizing treatises (Ilepi mpovotas. Ilept Oetwv evapyerdv) are lost.
We follow Aelian up with Athenaeus of Naucratis with his Sophists’ Banquet
(Aeurvocoguiarat, 15 books),! but this juxtaposition should not conceal pro-
found differences. Athenacus revealed whose intellectual heir he was by the fact
that he built up his monstrous collection as a banquet of numerous (29!)
learned men with varying backgrounds at the house of the distinguished Roman
Larensis, and carried his imitation of Plato so far as to use a conversational frame-
work in the manner of the Symposium. The large quantities of antiquarian,
grammatical and literary details reveal no views of any profundity, but the
material which he pours out unstintingly is of the greatest value. Athenaeus made
proper use of the library of Alexandria and has preserved a vast mass of worth-
while knowledge. He deserves praise for his mania for quoting and also for the
care which he took in his references. What fragments of comedy he has preserved
for us, to mention one aspect only! We would not be prepared to call him a
scholar who went to the sources themselves. He mainly dipped into the broad
streams of the tradition as represented by such names as Didymus and Tryphon.
Nothing is known about his life. The ridiculing of Commodus (XII. 537 f)
indicates that the work was published after this emperor’s death.
In spite of the difference in subject matter Diogenes Laertius? can be added
here. In the ten books of his History of the Philosophers (DiAocddwv Biwy Kai

' Book 1 to the beginning of 3 only in excerpts. Remarks in the main manuscript
(Marcianus A, roth c., brought from Constantinople by G. AURISPA in 1423) seem to indicate
that there was also an edition in 30 books. The opinion that the present Athenaeus with his
15 books is an excerpt from a work of double the size in 30 books, which is also adopted by
the Fr. editors, is opposed by G. wissowa (GGN 1913, 325), now also by H. ERBSE, Gnom.
29, 1957, 290. ERBSE also defends against the Fr. editors the thesis of Paul Maas that the
Athenaeus-epitome should originate from the Marcianus A and from Eustathius. Editions:
G. KAIBEL, 3 vols. Leipz. 1887-90 (with important indices). s. P. PEPPINK, 2 vols. Leiden
1936/39. With Engl. transl. c. B. GULICK, 7 vols. Loeb Class. Libr. 1933-41. With Er. transl.
A. M. DESROUSSAUX—CH. ASTRUC (books 1-3), Coll. des Un. d. Fr. 1956. — LAJOS NYIKOS,
Ath. quo consilio quibusque usus subsidiis dipnosophistarum libros composuerit. Diss. Basel 1941.
* The city of Laerte in Asia Minor mentioned by Steph. Byz.; wILAMOWITz, Herm. 34,
1899, 629 (=KI. Schr. 4, 1962, 100) temptingly considered a nickname from Avoyev)s
Aaepriadns. Text still c. G. Copet, Paris 1862. With Engl. transl. R. D. HICKS, 2 vols.
Loeb Class. Libr. 1950. A. BiEDL, Zur Textgeschichte des Laertios Diogenes. Das grosse Exzerpt.
Citta del Vaticano 1955. Pp. MORAUX, ‘La composition de la “Vie d’Aristote’’ chez Diog.
Laerce’. Rev. Et. Gr. 68, 1955, 124. O. GIGON, ‘Das Prooemium des Diog. Laert. Struktur
und Probleme.’ Horizonte der Humanitas (Freundesgabe Wili). 1960, 37-64. G. DONZELLI,
‘Per una edizione critica di Diog. Laerzio. I Codici VUDGS’. Boll. per la Prepar. di Ed. Naz.
dei Class. Gr. e Lat. N.S. 8, 1960, 93. Id., ‘I codici PQWCoHIEY]Jb nella tradizione di Diog.
Laerzio’. Stud. It. 32, 1960, 156.
854
 THE EMPIRE
Soypdtar ovvaywy7)' he also passed on a tremendous quantity of excerpts
without any intellectual profundity, but he stored up invaluable material. He
brought together writings on the succession in the individual schools of philo-
sophy, doxographical works, collections of apophthegmms and lists of books. He
did not study any sources either, but his work is a visible sample of a voluminous
mass of tradition, the remainder of which is lost. He seems to have had a
personal affinity to the Sceptics. He also reveals something of his mental attitude
by dedicating a whole book (10) to Epicurus, which he otherwise does only on
the case of Plato(3). The work probably remained unfinished, for not a few parts
convey the impression of formlessly combined excerpts. The nearest date that
can be allotted to it is the first decades of the third century before the predomin-
ance of Neoplatonism. Diogenes also published a collection of Epigrams, the first
book of which (Il¢@uerpos) related in varying metres the deaths of famous men,
except those of the philosophers, which he inserted in his history of the philo-
sophers.
It is easy to understand that an era which produced such literature cultivated
particularly the genre of anthology, which was already so popular in the
Hellenistic age. Here, too, a great deal of lost material is concealed behind
surviving work. In the fifth century Ioannes Stobaeus,? called after Stoboe in
Macedon, collected several passages from numerous poets and prose authors in
his Anthology. Here, too, it must be assumed that the compiler used collections
which were already available. The arrangement of the four books of the
Anthology is uniform. In each case the indication of the theme is followed by the
passages from the poets and then by those from the prose-writers. A secondary
division is responsible for the fact that in the Middle Ages the work was trans-
mitted in two separate parts of two books each (Eclogae and Florilegium).
The only completely surviving work of periegetic literature, the Hepujynors
tis “EAAddos by Pausanias (10 books)? was written in the second century. As
far as we know it was the last of its kind. The writer remains obscure for us.
Neither his identification with the historian Pausanias of Damascus nor with the
sophist of Cappadocia, whom we know from Philostratus’ Lives of the Sophists

1 Other versions of the title in E. scHWARTZ, RE 5, 1903, 738 (=Griech. Geschichts-

schreiber. Leipz. 1957, 453), which can also be consulted on the problem of the sources.
2 Edition: Cc. WACHSMUTH-O. HENSE, § vols. with appendix Leipz. 1884-1923; 2nd unalt.
ed. Berl. 1958.
3 Text: F. SPIRO, 3 vols. Leipz. 1903, repr. 1959. For the recension the edition ofJ.H. CHR.
SCHUBART and CHR. WALTZ, Leipz. 1838/39 is still useful. Fundamental for criticism and
exegesis, though obsolete in many details: H. HITZIG and H. BLUMNER, 3 vols. in 6 parts,
Leipz. 1896-1910. Bilingual: w. H. s. JONES and H. A. ORMEROD, § vols. Loeb Class. Libr.
1931-35. Abundant material (much of an ethnographical nature) in the commentary on
J. G. FRAZER’S transl., 6 vols. Lond. 1898; the 2nd ed. has only the addenda to the ist ed. in
the text. G. ROUX, Paus. en Corinthe (2, 1-15). Paris 1958 (with transl. and comm.). An
excellent abbreviated Germ. transl. with important notes by ERNST MEYER, Ziirich 1954
(Bibl. der Alten Welt); id., Paus. Fiihrer durch Athen und Umgebung. Ziirich 1959 (Lebendige
Antike). The best monograph by 0. REGENBOGEN, RE S 8, 1956, 1008. There and in MEYER
(v. sup.), 726, bibl. Also a. prtter, ‘The Manuscripts of Paus.’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 88,
1957, 169.
855
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

(2, 13) are more than vague possibilities. But the sound knowledge which this
periegete has of Asia Minor shows that he came from there, perhaps from Lydia.
A valuable indication for his date is his statement in 5. 1, 2 that Corinth had
been a Roman colony for 217 years, which produces 173 for the date of com-
position of this book. Since furthermore the latest event mentioned is the
invasion of the Costoboci (175), the work, on which Pausanias worked of
course for a long time, may be considered to have been completed in the years
shortly before 180. In the first book, whose original independence cannot be
proved, Pausanias begins with Attica, extending in the next his periegesis over
Central Greece and the Peloponnesus. Besides descriptions of localities and
monuments such as are to be expected in a work like this, there are many ex-
cursuses of varying length on geography, history and mythology. Since informa-
tion of this kind and the periegesis itself are approximately balanced in volume,
it is not very easy to determine the nature and purpose of this work. Characteriz-
ing it as “The Baedeker of Antiquity’ is inadequate, although to a certain extent
Pausanias could be a guide for travellers. But the thought of his reading public
was uppermost in his mind, and for their sakes he took a great deal of care with
his style. He firstly brings about some variety in the composition of the individual
books. This is continued in the presentation of the material, especially in the
necessary enumerations, and lastly in his personal idiom. Connected with this is
the tendency to paraphrase names and things and the use of many artifices in the
word order, while in his syntax he affects simplicity and avoids the long period.
His predilection for archaisms is part of his imitation of Herodotus, although his
style has little in common with the many possibilities exploited by the latter.
The sceptical attitude of the late nineteenth century turned Pausanias into a
wretched copyist who had as little expert knowledge as Polyaenus of strategy or
Aelian of zoology. Today the so-called Pausanias-problem has proved to be
illusory. He was widely travelled; he spoke of numerous things from his own
observation. He was also widely read, but in a better sense than the writers of
miscellany. He certainly did not copy his work, or large parts of it, from else-
where; the construction and arrangement of the details are his own creation.
What he had observed and investigated during his travels, he combines with the
fruits of his reading which was not restricted to compendia. It may be con-
sidered whether the frequent mention of Pergamum is connected with the
importance which its library had for Pausanias. Occasionally we are granted a
glimpse of his personality, as in 8. 2, 5 when he rejects the deification of men
(read emperors!), and in 8. 8, 3 on the change which took place during his
work of rational criticism of the myths to their symbolical conception. His
interest in religion, especially the more primitive and obsolete forms, is
characteristic of himself and the time in which he wrote.
Of the mythographical literature, which we have to assume as abundant from
the Hellenistic times onward, the Bibliotheca’ survives, which goes under the
Text: R. WAGNER, Mythogr. Gr. 1, 2nd ed. Leipz. 1926. Bilingual with comm. and
copious ethnographical notes: J. G. FRAZER, 2 vols. Loeb Class. Libr. 1921. Analysis: v.
WILAMOWwITZ, ‘Die griech. Heldensage’ 1: Sitzb. Akad. Berl. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1925, 41; 2:
856
 THE EMPIRE
name of the great grammarian Apollodorus of Athens (v. p. 787). This has been
shown up as a fraud by C. Robert in his dissertation.! Since the language of the
Bibliotheca is not Atticist, the first century has been considered, but the second
should be reckoned with as well, because in books of this nature stylistic trends
work out least uniformly. The surviving book starts with the theogony and
breaks off after dealing with various cycles of legends in the mythical genealogy
of Attica. The epitome in the Codex Vatic. 950 (discovered by R. Wagner in
1885) and the Sabbaitical fragments (found by A. Papadopulos in Jerusalem in
1887) give us an idea of the rest which followed after Homer and the Cycle.
This opuscule sports the name of ancient authors, but draws on a late-Hellenistic
manual.

4 PROSE ROMANCE AND EPISTOLOGRAPHY

The traditional picture of no other genre in Greek literature was altered so

completely by the papyri as that of the romance. For a long time Erwin Rohde’s
book dominated criticism in this field. At that time only Iamblichus’ date was
substantiated by solid proof. He was born before 115, and went on writing
after 165, as proved by his mention of Soaemus, the Armenian king who was
restored by the Romans. Rohde placed this Iamblichus at the beginning of a
development which he believed to have ended in the sixth century with Chari-
ton. This made the romance a product of the empire, and as such its value was
extremely doubtful. Furthermore, his chronology suggested that it was a product
of the second sophistic, and Rohde, following others,? emphatically defended
this point of view.
These critics were completely confounded by papyrus finds with fragments
of Chariton of the second/third century A.D. (no. 156 P.); lately a papyrus of the
second century has been added.? The language and connection with historical
events (v. infra) warrant the assumption that the romance emerged even earlier,
perhaps as early as the first century A.D. We are at any rate forced to trace the
beginnings of the genre back to Hellenistic times, for even the remnants of the
Ninius romance point to such a dating. Further support has been provided by
papyti of Achilles Tatius’ romance (v. infra) which corrected its late dating
(sth c.), at the same time upsetting the long-established point of view‘ that this
author was dependent on Heliodorus.
The later Hellenistic era proved to be the time of the development of the
Greek romance; we can follow it into the third century. Caution has to be
observed with regard to the opinion that this century meant the end of this
genre. The whims of transmission have deprived us of a great deal and the
chronological distance between the literature of the Greek romance and its
vigorous revival in the Byzantine era may be less than we think.

Ibid. 214 (=KI. Schriften 5/2, 54). M. VAN DER VALK, ‘On Apoll. Bibliotheca’. Rev. Ei, Gr.
71, 1958, 100. 1 Berl. 1873. >,
2 Of predecessors now forgotten, special mention must be made ef A. NICOLAI, Ube
Entstehung und Wesen des griech. Romans. Berl. 1867.
3 Papyri Michaelidae. Aberdeen 1955, no. I. 4 HELM (v. inf.) still clings to it.
857
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

At any rate a new insight into the chronology of the romance has done away
with the hypothesis that it was born from the rhetorical activity of the second
sophistic. In the splendid sketch with which Otto Weinreich followed up
Reymer’s translation of Heliodorus, he whimsically called the Greek erotic
romance a mongrel which was the product of a liaison of the elderly epic with a
capricious Hellenistic historiography. But, as indicated by Weinreich himself,
other elements have to be taken into account, for the range of themes of the
later genre is extraordinarily wide.
Travelling adventures and the passion of love are the stock subjects of the
Greek romance. The stress on these aspects differs, but it is hardly advisable to
separate the romance of travel from that of love as special genres, for in most
cases the two themes are combined. The story of fabulous travels has a long
ancestry. Among these the Odyssey occupies a place of honour, but we have to
go back even further. Egyptian stories, like the one of the Middle Kingdom
which deals with the shipwrecked sailor on the island of the mighty snake,"
reveal ancient Mediterranean narrative stock. What was stated earlier (p. 218 t.)
of the vivid interest of the Greeks, especially the onians, in faraway countries,
explains the reason why genuine information and fabulous report found an
equally ready hearing. Both of these had flowed into the Greek world in un-
parallelled abundance after Alexander’s expedition, the fairy-tale dominating by
far. What openings this offered for the later romance can be observed from the
fact that Alexander’s expedition itself became a romance with an unequalled
breadth of influence.
The explanation of the unlimited power with which Eros rules in the romance
must be looked for in the vigorous advance of erotic themes in Hellenistic
writing. It is still one of the merits of Rohde’s book that it singled out this fact
clearly, while it also correctly evaluated this development as being anticipated
in Euripides. The erotic element in the Greek romance is of a special nature.
Love is nearly always a great passion, which is entirely in the line which connects
it with Euripides. But in the romance only the secondary characters succumb to
a guilty passion.? Their actions bring about the complications of the plot. The
central couple are bound by a great and pure love, which is kindled at the first
glance which they exchange. The goal which is reached after all the misunder-
standings and confusion is not a fleeting pleasure, but the lasting union of two
hearts which need one another.
This brief outline sketches the difference between the Greek romance and such
stories as the Milesian Tales (v. p. 762) with their witty frivolity. Inclusion ofthe
novella in the preliminary form of the romance must be completely rejected.
The profound basic difference between the two genres permits only an occasional
exchange of themes. What must be seriously considered is the question where

1 Cf. L. RADERMACHER, Die Erzdhlungen der Odyssee. Sitzb. Akad. Wien. Phil.-hist. K1.
178/1. 1915, 38. J. W. B. BARNS, ‘Egypt and the Greek Romance’. Mitt. aus der Papyrussamml.
der Osterr. Nationalbibl. 5, Vienna 1956, 29.
* The Potiphar theme is traced by M. BRAUN, Griech. Roman und hellenistische Geschichts-
schreibung. Frankf. a. M. 1934; History and Romance in Graeco-Oriental Lit. Oxf. 1938.
858
 THE EMPIRE

the romance acquired its erotic element which combines the greatest intensity
with the greatest decency. How circumspect is, for instance, Heliodorus (5. 18,
8) in observing the separation of the lovers in their sleep! Now even Homer’s
epic, in spite of its freedom in sexual matters, already has a lofty conception of
the honour of women, as borne out by figures like Penelope and Nausicaa. In
the Hellenistic poetry of the preceding era, however, men are portrayed as
unnaturally spurning all the charms of Aphrodite in the manner of Hippolytus
rather than experiencing the love of young people, tender in spite of all
vehemence, pure and reserved. It is not easy to give reasons for the origin of
these features in the picture of Hellenistic love. It is possible that it is due to a
large extent to a new conception of the nature of Eros which was founded by
the philosophers, especially the Platonists. But we should not underestimate the
influence of Oriental stories either, of which Xenophon’s Cyropaedia with the
story of the undemanding love of a highborn woman gives an impressive
example. They must also have provided standards for the passion of men which
excluded frivolity and voluptuousness.
In addition to Euripides’ contribution drama was important for the romance
in two other ways. In the first place it offered subject matter; those stories of
children exposed and found again, of people who recognize each other after a
long and grievous separation — the legacy of tragedy, utilized by New Comedy —
play a part in the romance which is hardly less important. And if we knew a little
more about the mime with its elopings, piracy and assassinations, it would be
clearer how close the affinity is of theme and subject matter. On the other
hand, dramatisation is an essential feature of the narrative technique of
these products. Tension is raised with all kinds of artifices; the beginning of
Heliodorus will give us a special example of this, Peripeteia takes place frequently
and in quick succession, brisk dialogue occurs side by side with lofty mono-
logues.? It should be borne in mind, however, that drama did not only have a
direct influence, but also had an effect through dramatized Hellenistic historio-
graphy, of which we spoke earlier (p. 764). We should also like to include bio-
graphy with historiography in a wider sense, as in certain Hellenistic forms it
gave plenty of scope for romantic features.
Earlier we rejected a theory according to which the romance was a product
of the school of rhetoric of the second sophistic. Even chronologically this is
impossible. This should not be taken to imply that rhetorical education, which
demanded from the students a rhetorical elaboration of the most varied situa-
tions from history, the myths or free invention, and from the teachers’ models
for this sort of thing, did not have some importance for the romance. Such an
occupation must have led, at least for the more gifted, to a greater profundity
of the intellectual processes and to a more refined elaboration of psychological
details. Thus preliminary work was done for the romance also in this sphere.?
The supposition, however, that certain specifications of the narrative form in

1 Examples in H. RIEFSTAHL, Der Roman des Apuleius. Frankf. a. M. 1938, 86, 22. For
Heliodorus reference is made, for instance, to the long tragic monologue of Chariclea
(6, 8, 3) 2 A synopsis of these features in RIEFSTAHL (v. sup.), 88, 25.
859
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Cicero and Greek rhetorical writings referred to the romance has proved to bea
fallacy.! It should also be stated at once that the ancient world never coined a
definite label for this genre. Photius, for instance, speaks occasionally of drama,
76 dpaparuxdy, or of comedy, when he means the romance, and avoids this
difficulty by using the name of a well-defined genre.
Attempts have been made to derive the Greek romance entirely from
Oriental myths, especially those about Isis and Osiris, and to seek its origin in
the presentation of the deity’s suffering and death.? In this extreme form the
theory is untenable, although the influence of Oriental elements on the romance
must not be underestimated. Nor can it be denied that the erotic conceptions of
the romance often accord with themes of the mystery religions and it also
contains linguistic borrowings from the same source; but this is not sufficient to
derive the romance simply from the mysteries.
It is different with the aspects which are the result of the secularization of the
Greck myths, and their development into fiction. We already saw in the case of
Dionysius Scytobrachion (p. 782) that free composition continued side by side
with the commonplace mythographical handbook. This went on during the
empire. In a.p. 100 Ptolemy with the nickname Chennus of Alexandria wrote
inter alia his epic Anthomerus, which advertises its purpose, the correction of
Homer, in its title, and his Kaw foropia (6 books; Hapdéo€os toropia in
Suidas).3 It is typical of such literature that the authorities for all these fictions
were invented at the same time. A form of writing, typified in the Hellenistic
age by the Troica of Hegesianax from the Troad, is continued in the Troy-
romances of Dictys and Dares. Until 50 years ago both were only known in
Latin versions of late antiquity,+ and were very influential in the Middle Ages
and later. Particularly interesting is the part which the Troy-romance played in
Goethe’s planning of the ending of the Achilleis. In 1907 a papyrus of the early
third century A.D. (no. 240 P.) gave certainty in the case of Dictys. Both authors
may be given a date in the early empire. It is characteristic of this genre that they
pretend to be contemporaries of the event, the Phrygian Dares on the side of the
Trojans, and declare that the Dictys-romance was substantiated by wooden
tablets which came to light from Dictys’ tomb at Cnossos through an earth-
quake during Nero’s reign.5

' K. BARWICK, Herm. 63, 1928, 261 ff.

2 K, KERENYI, v. inf. Recently R. MERKELBACH has also proclaimed and energetically
taken up the thesis of the origin of the romance from the mysteries in his book also mentioned
below. He aims to prove that ‘the romances are actually mystery texts’.
3 W. KULLMANN, Die Quellen des Ilias. Herm. E 14, 1960, 141, I singles out Ptolemy
Chennus, because he utilizes the sources of the spurious literature of his time more carefully,
+ Editions by F. MEISTER, Leipz. 1872 and 1873. w. EISENHUT, Dictyis Cretensis Ephemeridos
belli Troiani libri a Lucio Septimio ex Graeco in Latinum sermonem translati. Accedit papyrus
Dictyis Graeci ad Tebtunim inventa. Leipz. 1958. Characterisation of the “Dictys’: JOHN
FORSDYKE, Greece before Homer. Lond. 1956, 153. On Goethe’s Achilleis: kK. REINHARDT, Von
Werken und Formen. Godesberg 1948, 311; now in Tradition und Geist. Géttingen 1960, 283.
5 On the fiction of proof in hagiography: a. J. FEstTUGIERE, Révélation d’Hermés Tris-
mégisters, 2nd ed. Paris 1950, 309. On proof by means of finds in a tomb: w. BURKERT, Phil.
105, 1961, 240.
860
 THE EMPIRE

In theme and form the romance is the offspring of distinguished stock.

Analysis is able to point out manifold threads which lead to other literary fields.
But more important is the realization that it is the expression of a changed con-
ception of life.' The myths have ceased to be a living force; the story of the
Greeks who repulsed the Persians and waged a fratricidal war for the hegemony,
had already become ‘ancient history’ in the Hellenistic era; contemporary
politics was in the hands of a few leading men and did not reveal much coherence
beyond threatening or securing personal civic existence. The realm of imagina-
tion dissociated itself radically and conclusively from private everyday life. The
marvellous only occurred beyond its narrow confines. It was diligently sought
and found in foreign lands and in the fates of lovers who proved themselves to
be images of faith and constancy. Women must have had a stronger influence
than ever before on the wishes of the reading public. It is difficult to imagine
Gorgo and Praxinoa of Theocritus’ Adoniazusae watching a play of Sophocles,
but we would not mind handing them a Greek romance.
Two Berlin papyri (no. 2041 f. P.) give us a fragmentary idea of the Ninus
romance, the oldest representative of the genre available. Ninus, whom Ctesias
puts at the head of the series of Assyrian kings (v. p. 623 f.) and Semiramis, whose
name does not actually occur in the fragments, are the lovers whose chequered
fortunes, which end happily, already control the course of the plot. One frag-
ment relates how the lovers, who are cousins, turn to each other’s mother at
different times in their ardent desire to be united. The discreet rhetoric of the
young man, who stresses his chastity, and the modest bashfulness of the maiden,
are contrasted with good effect. The other fragment shows Ninus before the
battle against the Armenians. He has elephants and a Greek contingent with him,
but that is one of the anachronisms often found in the romances. The fragments
are of the first century A.D., but the romance was written a good deal earlier.
The affinity with historiography, and linguistical details, such as the pronounced
dread of hiatus, recommend an early date, probably the second century B.c.
In the Ninus romance the love theme is already firmly established, but it
seems to be absent in Iambulus’ travel story. We know its outlines from the
excerpts in Diodorus’ book 2 (55-60), which gives the terminus ante. In this case
a date in the second century must also be considered. Iambulus’ (the name is
Syrian) adventures take him via Ethiopia to an island situated in the remote
south, in which unusual inhabitants lead a happy life in fairy-land surroundings.
Features like sharing wives in common are elements of the Utopian ideal
state which already hada tradition at the time. Iambulus- was allowed to
share in the happiness of this south-sea island for seven years; then, cast out by
the islanders, he returns home via India. Lucian, who wrote his Verae Historiae
(v. p. 842) as a lampoon on stories of adventurous travels, nevertheless admitted
the attractive execution of Iambulus’ fantasies (1. 3).
Diodorus’ excerpt provides no grounds for the supposition that Iambulus’
romance contained erotic themes, although the possibility cannot be excluded.
tg, aLTHEIM thinks that the romance is particularly suitable to become the expression of
times of revolution and crisis.
861
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Such themes are, however, connected with the fantastic travelling adventures
in the Marvels beyond Thule (Ta dxép OovAnvy dora, 24 books) by Antonius
Diogenes. We have an excerpt of it in Photius’ Bibliotheca (cod. 166), to which
excerpts in the Life of Pythagoras of Porphyry and a papyrus (no. 50 P.; 2nd/3rd
c. A.D.) are added. As Photius realized, Lucian parodied the work in his Verae
Historiae. As, on the other hand, the removal of the plot to Pythagoras’ time, and
all sorts of things which were reported about him, aptly fit in with the neo-
Pythagorean wave of the early empire, the romance can be dated with some
confidence in the first century. The elaborate attestation through tablets in a
chest of cypress wood, found by Alexander at the capture ofTyre, is reminiscent
of Dictys. They contained Dinias’ report of his wonderful travels, which took
him far beyond the borders of the inhabited world and even as far as the moon.
The story of Dinias’ adventures is interwoven with that of a brother and a sister
who flee from an evil Egyptian sorcerer; it adopts fairy-tale themes, magic plays
a large part, many motives typical of the romance are used such as separation and
reunion, apparent death, poisonings. The love element is included, but it is
not yet the centre as in the romances which will be discussed presently. Photius
still reveals the skill with which the separate strands of the plot had been blended.
Dinias’ story was told in the third person; those of the others had been inserted
in the same form.
Mention has already been made of the papyrus finds which necessitated a
thorough change in the chronology of the romance of Chariton of Aphrodisias
in Caria, and even made it possible to consider a date in the late Hellenistic era.
The story of Chaereas and Callirhoe (8 books) contains free invention, but it still
seeks a connection with history. At the beginning of the romance the name of
Hermocrates occurs, the Syracusan general who led the victorious battle against
Athens’ expeditionary force (cf. p. 467). His daughter is the beautiful Callirhoe,
whom Chaereas, the son of a political opponent of Hermocrates’, wins as his
wife with the aid of the people; next he loses her through the intrigues of his
rivals and his own delusions, but he finds her again after endless perils to gain
lasting bliss. Artaxerxes II and his satraps Pharnaces and Mithridates also appear
as characters of the plot; a rebellion of the Egyptians against Persian dominion
leads to the solution, but all these historical persons are unreal elements in this
motley play of the imagination. The themes, which are shuffled in romances like
playing cards, are nearly all present in Chariton: the couple’s love at first sight,
the suspicion of infidelity aroused by envious rivals, through which Chaereas is
driven to maltreat his wife, apparent death and funeral, robbers who plunder
the tomb and carry off the revived victim. The east attracts the plot with a
mysterious strength. It moves by way of Miletus to the court of the Persian
king; the Egyptian revolt brings the solution. In these romances it is always the
unusual beauty of the heroine which causes her the greatest peril. Men of lof
station, even the Great King, desire her and contrive the most skilful intrigues,
until the great ruler Tyche grants the much-enduring couple the certain bliss of
mutual possession.
The dramatization of the narrative has been taken particularly far. In the
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powerful description of the trial before the Great King in Book 5 Chariton
himself indicates that here the stage is going to be surpassed. Otherwise the story
proceeds from episode to episode in a fairly straight line. Heliodorus’ technique
is entirely different. The cautious avoidance of hiatus supports early dating.
Linguistical borrowing from the classical historians match a dependence on
historical themes. A peculiar feature is the occasional sprinkling of verse, which
has a remote resemblance in Xenophon of Ephesus. Our material, however, is
not sufficient to enable us to characterize this as a peculiarity of the older
romance.
The special frequency of related papyri reveals that the second century .D.,
a period of relative prosperity, was also one of active reading of romances. Those
of which we have such fragments may, of course, have been written substantially
earlier. One fragment (no. 2046 P.) shows the separation of the lovers. Her-
pyllis’ vessel is prevented from sailing by a gale, while her lover is in another
ship at the mercy of the weather. Fragments of the romance Metiochus and
Parthenope (no. 2047 P.) show the hero as a scorner of Eros who, of course,
experiences its effects all the more violently. Another fragment tells of the
ransoming of Parthenope in Corcyra. Suicide is often prevented and this theme
occurs in a fragment (no. 1054 P.) which depicts the despair of a certain Calli-
gone. Battles between Sauromiati and Scythians, which separate the lovers, bring
in the quasi-historical sphere of the older romance. Of two small scraps (no.
2053, 2057 P.) written during the transition from the second to the third century,
the first shows a certain Anthea who handles poison; time and again suicide is
planned in these stories. A parchment palimpsest (no. 158 P.) of the seventh
century with a piece from Chariton, contains another of the romance of Chione,
who is loyal to her lover in spite of all impetuous suitors. Similarities with
Chariton can be discerned, which does not necessarily mean that he is the
author; it is possible, however, that it also belongs to the older group. The
fragments of the Sesonchosis romance (no. 2044 P.) should also be mentioned.
They appear to contain the story of a conflict between the legendary king of
Egypt and his son, who refuses the marriage planned by his father, probably
because he loves someone else. The papyrus was written in the third or fourth
century, but its quasi-historical character seems to point to an earlier date of
composition.
The arrangement of the five books of the Ephesiaca (T@v kar’ "AvOevav kai
‘A Bpoxduny ’Edeotaxdy Adywv BiPdria €) of Xenophon of Ephesus is still open
to many questions. Habrocomes, who wishes to rise above Eros (a theme
pursued without any success) and Anthea see one another at the occasion of the
procession for Artemis, they fall in love and are joined in marriage. The oracle
of Apollo of Colophon, which forecasts the perils in store, plays a part in it. In
order to avoid these perils, the relatives of the young couple send them on a
journey. This, of course, releases the usual series of adventures: gales, shipwreck
and pirates pursue the separated lovers, and time and again their beauty arouses
dangerous passions. In Habrocomes’ adversities the Potiphar theme plays a part.
Among the many adventures of Anthea it falls to her lot to become the wife of a
863
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

poor shepherd. But although he is of the lowest rank, his nobility of character
allows her to preserve her purity. The return of a feature which Euripides had
inserted as a bold novelty in his Electra is noteworthy.
For the dating the first important thing is that the romance contains reference
to the institution of the office of irenarch by Trajan. It seems possible to deduce
the terminus ante from the fact that the Ephesian temple of Artemis, which was
destroyed in 263, plays an important part in the story. Admittedly the possibility
that the writer moved the plot back in time and ignored the catastrophe should
not be excluded, but the form of the Ephesiaca is so close to that of Chariton’s
romance that its date will not be very much after the end of the first century A.D.!
Suidas, who also knows of a history by Xenophon On Ephesus (Ilept ris
"Edeciwv méAews), assigns the number of ten books to the Ephesiaca. The
composition of the romance, which strings numerous adventures together with-
out much skill, exhibits in many passages a striking conciseness. There is therefore
much in favour of Rohde’s conjecture? that it is an excerpt. But in the case of
this deplorable scribbler it may well be that these features are simply due to his
lack of talent.
It was already mentioned that, owing to his autobiographical indications, the
Babylonica of the Syrian Ilamblichus can be placed in the last three decades of the
second century A.D. The excerpt of the dpayatixov, which that voracious reader
Photius offers in his Bibliotheca (codex 94),3 gives a fair impression of the struc-
ture and contents of the work. The setting of the romance is pre-Persian
Mesopotamia. The sea with its gales, shipwrecks and pirates is absent, but other-
wise there is a good supply of all the well-known themes, to which are added a
man-eating robber and a particularly generous share of ghosts and sorcery. This
veritable witches’ Sabbath of persecutions, bloody deeds and mistaken identities
is caused by the fact that Garmus, the inhuman king of Babylon, desires Sinonis,
Rhodanes’ wife, for himself. The composition is very loose; Photius reveals
insertions in the nature of short stories and excursuses on various customs. The
vicissitudes of individual secondary figures have been quite skilfully connected
with the main plot. The language of the fragments shows a strong influence of
rhetoric. Suidas mentions thirty-nine books, whereas Photius ends with Book
16; it is hard to see what else could be told after the happy reunion of the couple.
Two editions of different size could be considered, but we should remember
how untrustworthy numbers are in manuscripts.
The romances of the sophist Nicostratus of Macedon, of which we do not
even know any titles, and the Metamorphoses of Lucius of Patrae (cf. p. 845) also
belong in the second century. Perhaps the Greek original of the Historia Apollonii
regis Tyrii may be allotted a similar date, which is recommended by points of
contact with Xenophon’s Ephesiaca. There were several translations of the story

1 HELM (v. inf.) 45 adheres to indebtedness to Heliodorus and dates Xenophon in the late
4th century. Neither is convincing.
2 Griech. Roman (v. inf.), 429; cf. R. M. RATTENBURY,
Gnom. 22, 1950, 75.
3 A few fragments surviving in manuscripts are enumerated in URSULA SCHNEIDER-
MENZEL (v. inf. under Iamblichus).
864.
 THE EMPIRE

of king Apollonius, who passes through many perils to win the princess of
Cyrene for his wife, only to lose her and his child as a result of the most singular
misfortunes, and to find them again only many years later; it was especially in a
Latin version of the fifth or sixth century that it became a popular romance.
The surviving material is sufficient to give us a picture of a prose literature
whose scope is as wide as its level is low. Two works stand out to some degree,
even though their stock of themes is quite typical of the genre. The papyri, as
mentioned before,! have brought about a radical change in the dating of Achilles
Tatius’ (the Egyptian god ‘Tat’ is probably concealed in the name) Leucippe and
Cleitophon (8 books). The finds correspond with the dating of F. Altheim,? who
wished to place the romance between 172 and 194 on the basis of historical
indications, even though these are not decisive in view of the modus operandi
of the writers of romances.
This Alexandrian orator, to whom Suidas allots several more works of
miscellaneous content, shows particularly in the opening that he wishes to rise
above the hackneyed manner. After a stormy passage the author comes to
Ephesus, where he admires a painting of the rape of Europa which he describes
in the style of Philostratus, taking an obvious delight in rhetorical ecphrasis.
Descriptions of this nature occur more often in his work. The Eros which impels
the bull provides an opportunity for a conversation with a young man. He is
Cleitophon and in the manner of the Phaedrus he tells in a grove of plane trees
of the power of love as he has experienced it in wild adventures. As far as we
can judge, the romance also had individual characteristics in that the develop-
ment of the love between the youngsters up to the moment of their flight
together is told with a broad sweep and subtle nuances. But next to elements of
truly psychological description there are effusions about Eros in the old smart
scholastic manner. A storm at sea, which carried the fugitives into the hands of
Egyptian pirates, introduces a series of adventures told in a highly dramatic form
with the aid of conventional themes. Time and again Cleitophon can scarcely
doubt that his beloved is dead. Once he has to watch her being killed, though he
does not realize that the whole thing is simulated by means of intestines tied on
to her and with a stage-dagger; this is an example of the excesses to which the
craze for inspiring overworked themes with new life was leading. In this
romance constancy is also rewarded, as is proper to the genre. Unlike in Helio-
dorus there is an occasional dash of prurience in the story. It is, for instance,
unusual that Cleitophon once has to oblige a woman whose passion largely

ty, p. 857. The first jolt was given by Ox. Pap.no. 1250 of the late 3rd or early 4th century.
A problem is posed by substantial deviations from the manuscripts. Cc. F. RUSSO, who also
gives a bibl., has shown in Accad. dei Lincei, Rendic. d. classe di scienze mor. stor. e filol. Ser.
VIII, vol. X, 1955, 397, that it is likely that the papyrus has been altered in order to effect
abbreviations. VILBORG expresses a cautious opinion in his edition (v. inf.), LXI. An even
earlier dating was made imperative by a Milan papyrus of the 2nd century a.p., published
by A. VOGLIANO, Stud. ital. fil.class. 15, 1938, 121. Bibl. on both papyri in QU. CATAUDELLA,
Parola del passato. Fasc. 34, 1954, 37, 1. In add. a papyrus now lost: W. SCHUBART, Griech.
Lit. Pap. (Ber. Sachs. Akad. Phil.-hist. Kl. 97/5) Berl. 1950, no. 30. which the editor places
conjecturally in the third century. 2 Lit. u. Gesellsch. (v. inf.), 121.
865
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

controls the plot of the second part. Its course runs along a fairly straight line in
spite of various insertions; the actions of the secondary characters are closely
connected with the main theme. The artfully simple form of language (a¢éAeva)
and the extensive use of figures show that the stylistic trends of the second
sophistic have now taken hold of the romance.
The new chronology, effected by the papyri, proved that Heliodorus of
Emesa was later with his Aethiopiaca (Lvvtaypa TOv mepi Oeayevyy Kat
XapixAevav Al@vomixdv, 10 books) than the romance of Achilles Tatius. Its more
precise dating is still a matter of controversy. F. Altheim! has drawn attention to
the description of a battle of Aethiopians against Persians, in which the cata-
fractarii, the armoured Persian cavalry, play a part; this, by the way, is an
extreme anachronism, for the plot was supposed to occur in the epoch of the
Persian dominion over Egypt, and these catafractarii had first crossed swords
with the Romans in the Persian war of Alexander Severus (232/33), but for our
problems this gives only a terminus post. Neither the descriptions of the Blem-
myans as submissive subjects of Meroe nor the story of the worship of the sun
and its (sometimes exaggerated) importance in the romance provide a definite
earliest date; most probably it is the second quarter of the third century, but the
fourth century cannot be positively excluded.?
It is preferable to pay no attention to the information which first turns up in
Socrates’ ecclesiastical history (sth c.; 5. 22) that Heliodorus, who wrote the
Aethiopiaca in his youth, later became bishop of Tricca and introduced clerical
celibacy in Thessaly. In Nicephorus Callistus’ ecclesiastical history (1320: 12. 34)
this is turned into the fiction that a synod gave Heliodorus the choice of burning
the work or resigning from his episcopal office. Achilles Tatius is also converted
to Christianityby Suidas,
and it is important in this connection? that in the legend
of the holy Galaction and the holy Episteme (Migne 116. 93), the couple
Cleitophon and Leucippe of the romance appear as their parents. This is part of
the many attempts to make the two most widely read romances somewhat
legitimate by connecting them with Christianity. Christian narrative literature
drew very heavily on themes from the romances.*
Two qualities put Heliodorus’ romance in a special position. There is in the
first place the unusual virtuosity of the narrative technique. The Opening is
quite extraordinary. At break of day some robbers are looking out from an
elevation at the Heracleotian estuary of the Nile and observe a rare sight; a fully
loaded freighter without a crew or boats; on board some seriously wounded
men, the remnants of a feast and a girl who is tending a wounded young man.

TRU PUC Vereen LOOT

2 For the later dating: M. VAN DER VALK, ‘Remarques sur la date des Ethiopiens d’Hélio-
dore’. Mnem. 9, 1941, 97, with the assumption that in several places Heliodorus is indebted
to Julian; A. WIFSTRAND, Bull. Société des lettres Lund, 1944/45, 2, 36 ff. on linguistical con-
siderations. M. P. NILSSON, Gesch. d. gr. Rel. 2, 2nd ed. Munich 1961, 565. That none of
these arguments is effective is demonstrated by 0. WEINREICH in REYMER’s translation
(v. inf.), 348.
3-H. DORRIE, ‘Die griech. Romane und das Christentum’. Phil. 93, 1938, 273.
+ A great deal in HELM (v. inf.), 53.
866
 THE EMPIRE
Without any exposition the couple Theagenes and Chariclea are shown in
exceedingly dramatic circumstances and so a tension is aroused which is only
resolved through several skilfully contrived steps, by our understanding of the
complex previous history, Chariclea is the child of the royal Ethiopian couple,
exposed by her mother. She grows up in Delphi, where she arouses the love of
Theagenes which she answers. Together with the young man and old Calasiris,
whom the Ethopian queen has sent out to search for ber child, she sets out for
the distant lands of which the oracle speaks in obscure words which promise
happiness. Once more a chain of perils and adventures ensues, until Chariclea,
about to be sacrificed together with Theagenes, finds her parents in Ethiopia,
where she and her beloved are given a priesthood. The variegated nature of the
plot is strengthened with great skill by the secondary characters, each of whom
has his own exciting story. There is Cnemon who, being involved in a Potiphar
story, took up a roaming life; Thyamis, the noble headman of the robbers, who
turns out to be Calasiris’ son. A hostile fate, which overtook him at the same
time as the young couple, had thrown him off his course, but he returns to an
honourable existence when he finds his father again.
Another aspect of the Aethiopiaca is that it provides evidence of new religious
forces which pervade the period. Chastity is not a pose here, but a genuine inner
commandment; the Ethiopian gymnosophists advance to the rejection of blood-
sacrifice; divine justice is recognized in the issue of human affairs. It depends on
the dating of the romance whether Neopythagorean or Neoplatonic features
can be found in it.! There are Oriental influences in the lofty conception of the
sun-god who is felt to be universal and is identified with Apollo. Astrology,
belief in dreams and sorcery are present as well, but their lower form is separated
from the wisdom of the priests.
It is clear in Heliodorus especially that the language of the romance is an
artificial product. Particularly the mannerism of overloading sentences with an
accumulation of participles leads to monstrous structures.
The pastoral romance of Daphnis and Chloe (4 books) by Longus ofLesbos is
somewhat different from the other romances of love and adventure described
so far. The author’s literary skill has combined a great variety of elements,
through which the work exerted great influence, and even aroused Goethe’s
admiration.2 Remote countries remain distant in this romance, which is entirely
enacted in the writer’s native island. The adventures, an assault on Chloe,
attempts to abduct Daphnis and then the girl again, are secondary episodes, just
as the various obstructions which oppose their union. The bucolic world in
which the events take their course is depicted with a broad sweep, but, in spite
of the ornateness, also with charm. It is reminiscent of Theocritus’ Idylls, but
the distance which separates this trifle from the art of the Alexandrian should not
be overlooked. In Longus everything is idyllic in the manner of the shepherd’s
poetry which continued this romantic world. The author places in this idyllic
setting two foundlings who are serving as shepherds. His actual theme is the
« Following GEFFCKEN, the latter now favoured by NILSSON (v. p. 866, n. 2) eSO5s) 5:
2 Cony. with ECKERMANN Of 20.3.1831.
867
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

awakening of their affection and the naiveté of their passion, which fails for a
long time to find its way to fulfilment. This romance wavers between frivolity
and naturalness, because the innocence of the two young people and the natural
instinct of their desire is observed by the author in a lascivious mood and depicted
accordingly. The dénouement follows the manner of New Comedy. Daphnis
and Chloe find their parents, well-to-do citizens of Mytilene, and can get
married. But they prefer the happiness of the shepherds’ world, in which they
erew up, to life in the city.
The turning point at the end with its profession of the innocent life in nature
is reminiscent of Dion’s Euboicus (v. p. 834). The present tendency is to separate
Longus not too far from him, and to date him in the second century. The
_ previous later dating is not credited now, although the first half of the third
century should be considered as well. The style, which aims at symmetry and
makes a pretence of simplicity, agrees with this date.!
Epistolography, the favourite child of rhetoric which cultivated letters as a
stylistic feature, is separate from the romance as a genre.” In its erotic varieties,
however, there is some similarity of subject matter, and so a word about it in
this place is justified. Mention (p. 838) has already been made of Philostratus’
love letters and Aclian’s Peasants’ Letters (p. 854). The collection of love letters
of the orator Lesbonax of the second century is lost. This is probably the same
man of whom we have three deplorable declamations.3 It is characteristic of the
time that two of these imply historical situations of the fifth century B.c. The
most gratifying products in this field are the letters of Alciphron, who also
belongs in the second century. In the four books (Letters of Fishermen, Letters o
Peasants, Letters of Parasites, Letters of Hetaerae) it is not merely an author who
does his Atticist best (though he cannot avoid running off the rails occasionally),
nor his assiduous antiquarianism which is revealed, but we also sense his warm
love for his romantically radiant Athens. He also often succeeds in capturing
something of the incomparable charis of this time in his letters. This applies
Eecuiin to the fictional correspondence of Menander and his Glycera, of whom
we already had occasion to speak (p. 645) There are also many delightful
descriptions of nature, as in the first fisherman’s letter and in the account of a
trip into the country (4. 13). His treatment of love is conventional and reveals
also the otherwise frequent borrowing from comedy. There are also such
charming things as the letter of Lamia to Demetrius (4. 16).4
A much later offspring of this genre is Aristaenetus who, according to the
mention of the pantomime Caramallus (1, 26 with Apollinaris Sidonius 23, 268)
belongs in the fifth century. The use of accentuating clauses agrees with this.
In his Love Letters (2 books) he copies whole sentences from Plato, the writers
of romances, Lucian, Philostratus and Alciphron, to mention only these, in his
' In a preface to his book (v. inf.) R. MERKELBACH wanted to prove the kinship of the
romance with the mysteries, especially those of Dionysius: ‘Daphnis und Chloe’. Antaios.
Zeitschr. fiir eine freie Welt. 1, 1959, 47; id., Roman und Mysterium (v. inf.), 192.
2 On the letter and its theory: H. KOSKENNIEMI, Studien zur Idee und Phraseologie des
griech. Briefes bis 4oo n. Chr. Helsinki 1956. 3 Edition: F. KIEHR, Leipz. 1907.
+ Text and transl.: v. WILAMOWITZ, Herm. 44, 1909, 467= Kl. Schr. 4, 244.
868
 THE EMPIRE

zeal to write Atticist Greek. But his subject matter is interesting, since he
collects the erotic themes of antiquity from everywhere; 1, 10 and rs draw on
Callimachus’ Aetia.
A non-erotic form of the epistolary romance is represented only by a collec-
tion of seventeen letters attributed to Chion of Heraclea. Like his fellow-
conspirator Leonides, Chion had been a student at the Academy, and so was
Clearchus, the tyrant of Heraclea on the Pontus, who was the object of their
attack at the Dionysia of 352. There may be a faint reminiscence of Dion, Plato’s
friend, who fell a victim to a conspiracy in Syracuse which was the work of the
Academic Callippus. It is no longer assumed that the letters which describe the
events of the deed, were written by Chion himself. Apart from some isolated
bits of historical knowledge, which are based on a good tradition, the author of
these letters is a man of mediocre ability. Precise dating is difficult; the late
Hellenistic age or the first century B.c. are considered.!

General studies of the romance: E. ROHDE, Der griech. Roman. Leipz. 1876; 3rd
ed. 1914. E. SCHWARTZ, Fiinf Vortrdge iiber den griech. Roman. Berl. 1896.
K. KERENYI, Die griech.-orient. Romanlit. in religionsgeschichtlicher Beleuchtung.
Tiibingen 1927. F. ZIMMERMANN, ‘Aus der Welt des griech. Romans.’ Die
Antike 11, 1935, 292 (with samples of translation). E. H. HAIGTH, Essays on the
Greek Romances. New York 1943. F. ALTHEIM, Lit. u. Gesellschaft im ausgehenden
Altertum. Halle 1948; Roman und Dekadenz. Tiibingen 1951. R. HELM, Der antike
Roman. Berl. 1948, 2nd ed. Gétt. 1956. BR. LAVAGNINI, Studi sul romanzo greco.
Messina-Florence 1950. 0. WEINREICH, Nachwort zur Heliodor-Ubers. von R.
REYMER. Ziirich (Bibl. d. Alten Welt) 1950. R. MERKELBACH, Roman und Myster-
ium in der Antike. Munich 1962. — Collective editions: G. A. HIRSCHIG, Erotici
scriptores Graeci. Paris 1856. R. HERCHER, Erotici scriptores Graeci. 2 vols. Leipz.
1858—s9. P. GRIMAL, Romans grecs et latins. Textes présentés, trad. et annotés.
Paris 1958. Q. CATAUDELLA, II romanzo classico. Rome 1958. F. ZIMMERMANN,
Griech. Roman-papyri. Heidelb. 1936; cf. P(ack) no. 2041-2067 and on the
individual authors. Transmission: H. DORRIE, De Longi Achillis Tatii Heliodori
memoria. Diss. Gott. 1935 (cf. R. M. RATTENBURY, Gnomon, 13, 1937, 358).
Chariton: w. E. BLAKE, Oxf. 1938. F. ZIMMERMANN, Der Roman des Chariton.
t Text u. Obers. Berl. 1960. (Abh. Ak. Leipz. Phil.-hist. Kl. 51/2). It. transl.:
A. CALDERINI, Milan 1913. B. E. PERRY, ‘Ch. and his Romance from a Literary-
historical Point of View’. Am. Journ. Phil. 51, 1930, 93. A. D. PAPANIKOLAOU,
Zur Sprache Charitons. Diss. Col. 1963. - Xen. Eph.: G. DALMEYDA, Coll. des
Un. d. Fr. 1936 (bilingual). - Iamblichus: 2. Hasricu, Iamblichi Babyloniacorum
reliquiae. Leipz. 1960. Analysis by URSULA SCHNEIDER-MENZEL in Altheim, Lit.
t Excellent edition with translation and commentary (also important for the language)
by 1. DURING, Goteborg 1951 (Acta Univ. Gotoburg. 57). He dates the genesis of the collection
between the early Augustan period and Plutarch. 0. GIGON, Gymn. 69, 1962, 209, relegates
it to the late 2nd century B.c.
869
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

u. Gesellschaft (v. supra), 48. — Historia Apollonii: A. RIESE, Leipz. 1893. — Ach.
Tatius: $. GASELEE, Loeb Class. Libr. (with Eng]. transl.). Lond. 1917. E. VILBORG,
Stockholm 1955 (with history of the transmission and bibl.); also c. F. RUSSO,
Gnom. 30, 1958, 585. D. SEDELMEIER, ‘Studien zu Ach. T.’. Wien. Stud. 72,
1959, 113. — Heliodorus: a. COLONNA, Rome 1938. R. M. RATTENBURY and
T. W. LUMB, Coll. des Un. d. Fr. (with transl. by J. Maillon), 3 vols. 1935,
1938, 1943. 2nd ed. 1960. F. ALTHEIM, Lit. u. Gesellschaft (v. supra), 93. V. HEFTI,
Zur Erzahlungstechnik in H.s Aeth. Diss. Basel, Vienna 1950 (with bibl.). o.
MAZAL, ‘Die Satzstruktur in den Aith. des Hel. v. Emesa’. Wien. Stud. 71, 1958,
116. Transl.: R. REYMER, Ziirich 1950 (Bibl. d. Alten Welt). English: M. HADAS,
Ann Arbor Univ. of Michigan Press 1957. - Longus: w. D. Lowz, Cambr. 1908.
G. DALMEYDA, Coll. des Un. d. Fr. 1934, repr. 1960 (bilingual). Together with
Parthenius: J. M. EDMONDS, Loeb Class. Libr. Lond. 1955 (bilingual). 0. scHON-
BERGER, Longus, Greek and German with comm. Berlin 1960. German transl.
L. WOLDE, Leipz. 1939. E. R. LEHMANN, Wiesbaden 1959. G. VALLEY, Uber den
Sprachgebrauch des L. Diss. Uppsala 1926. - Alciphron: M. A. SCHEPERS, Leipz.
1905. The Letters of Hetaerae: w. PLANKI, Munich 1942 (bilingual). With
Aelian’s and Philostratus’ letters: A. R. BENNER and F. H. FOBES, Loeb Class. Libr.
Lond. 1949 (bilingual). r. Flore, Florence 1957 (bilingual). English transl. by
F. and B. WRIGHT, London 1958. — Aristaenetus: For the text we are still depen-
dent on R. HERCHER, Epistolographi Graeci, Paris 1873 (with Latin transl.), which
often deals with the transmission in an arbitrary manner. Fr. transl.: J. BRENOUS,
Paris 1938. Germ. transl. with introd. and notes: A. LesKy, Ziirich 1951
(Bibl. d. Alten Welt). Id., “Zur Uberlieferung des A.” Wien. Stud. 70, 1957,
210)

Se LELESSE GON Di siO PtSi Gs TN i EUR AVE HiRes Raa.

The fourth century is full of symptoms which indicate the changing of the times
and anticipate the closure of the Athenian university, which represents our
boundary. Most of the old families perished in the confusion of the third century.
The losses of landed property had dealt an extremely heavy blow to the cities.
The ephebia, this nucleus of Greek education, had vanished completely; the year
393 saw the end of the Olympic games, in which in 385 the Armenian prince
Varzdates had been the last Olympic victor known.
But the great force in education, and for a long time the only, was still
rhetoric. Its teachers, the sophists, controlled intellectual life. It had become
torpid and desolate, but it should be borne in mind that this activity had con-
tributed a great deal towards maintaining the Hellenic tradition. The great
authors of the past were still the foundation of instruction and the models after
which men aspired.!
In the more peaceful times of the fourth century this rhetoric was given a new
lease of life. It cannot be denied that it had a close affinity with the traditionalist
Opposition against Christianity, whence the applause from this circle for
' On the forms of this later education the 6th chapt. ‘Paidéia grecque et éducation
chrétienne’ in FESTUGIERE’S book on Antioch (v. inf.) is important.
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Julian. But on the whole they managed to live peacefully with the Christian
rulers.
The most successful teacher of rhetoric, a typical sophist, was Libanius of
Antioch (314 until about 393). After studying in Athens and travelling for some
time, he opened his school in Constantinople in 340/41, withdrew to Nicomedea
before the intrigues of his rivals in 346, and finally returned to his native city in
354 after a brief interlude in Constantinople. Among his students, who came
from all the countries in the Orient, were leading Christians such as Ioannes
Chrysostomus, Basil the Great and Gregory of Nazianzus. Libanius, the tradition-
alist, remained, however, aloof from the new trends; to him Julian’s attempt at
restitution meant the fulfilment of his wishes. Although the emperor could by
no means have heard him in Nicomedea as a boy, Libanius still felt that he was
his pupil. He dedicated to him, when he fell in battle against the enemy of the
realm in the east, his Monody to Julian (17 F.) and his longest speech, the Epitaph
on Julian (x8 F.), in which we perceive the personal note much stronger than
elsewhere. He expressed the close ties which bound him to his native city in the
Antiochus (11 F.).! Libanius declaimed this oration, which is also historically
important, at the Olympic games in Antioch.
The literary legacy of this teacher and orator, among which there is also an
autobiography (1 F.), is extremely bulky, but not all of it has been preserved.
In addition to occasional speeches there are numerous School-declamations and
Progymnasmata for the various accomplishments demanded by the school of
rhetoric. The Hypotheses to Demosthenes’ speeches were written for the pro-
consul Montius, an admirer of Demosthenes, but the bulk of the surviving work
is formed by the gigantic collection of Letters, which in late antiquity can only
be compared, with some reservation, with the one of Julian and that of the
Platonist and later bishop, Synesius of Cyrene.
Not everything that Libanius wrote was mere rhetoric. He is sincerely con-
vinced of the primacy of Hellenic culture. But, however much his intellectual
world may be made up of elements of the past, we learn from him a great deal
about contemporary life. The Letters are outstanding for their value as source
material. Nor should it be forgotten that occasionally he expressed himself freely
about abuses in state and society. In style he is an opponent of Asianism, and
adheres to the great ancient models. The example which he admired most
was Aelius Aristides, who was already something of a classic for the late-
comer.
In 353 Libanius declined an offer of the chair at Athens; he preferred to leave
this field to others. At this time Himerius of Bithynia, who was born in 310 and
died at an advanced age, enjoyed oratorical fame there. He started out upon his
career as a sophist in Athens, where he had studied; he left the city for a few
years, which may be connected with the defeat which he suffered in an oratorical
contest with Prohaeresius. In 362 Julian called him to Antioch; he returned to
Athens in 368. His eighty Speeches keep aloof from all politics; twenty-four of
them survive, several others are known from excerpts by Photius. Through
t Bibl. v. inf.
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Photius we also know of progymnasmata with the playful fictions of the

rhetorical school. Demosthenes intercedes to have Aeschines recalled, Epicurus
is denounced on the ground of atheism and such like. The Polemarchus survives,
a festive oration attributed to the archon polemarchus at the Attic Epitaph
festival. Generally, however, they are occasional speeches, addresses to high
officials, while many of them are concerned with the life of the school. In
contrast with Libanius’ purism, Himerius, the ‘friend of the divine poets’
chorus’ (Or. 4. 3) reveals a predilection for the diction of poetry which is
unexampled in this time.’ This rhetoric, which rivalled poetry, goes indeed to
the very extreme. These speeches pretend to be hymns and lyrics; their writer
feels that he is closer to the poets, especially the Lesbians, than the ancient
orators, his natural models. An extenuating circumstance is that, in spite of his
irritating pretentiousness, he has at least preserved in this way many fragments
of ancient poetry.
None ofthese sophists was hostile towards philosophy; Libanius even mentions
it with particular respect.2 Some rivalry did exist, but they did not deny the
philosophers’ claims, they pretended to be philosophers themselves. The
Bithynian Themistius, who probably lived from 317 to 388, is more closely
allied with philosophy. Within his limits he remained true to it, having become
familiar with it through his father. He shut himself off from the new spiritual
movement of his time; the sharp intellect of Aristotle was his ideal, from which
he seeks a bridge across to Plato, whom he often quotes. He wrote paraphrases
of the two philosophers, of which the one on Aristotle survives. But the same
Themistius passed through the rhetorical school, first at home and then in
Constantinople; in 345 he began to teach in the new capital. Since he tried to
serve two masters, he inevitably attracted attacks from both sides. In a series of
speeches, of which the Bacavoris 7 ¢iAdcodos (Or. 21) was the first, he
defended his position in this war on two fronts. In the course of time, however,
his position rose above such squabbles. This pagan, for whom, as for Libanius,
Julian meant the fulfilment of his dreams, managed to be on excellent terms with
the Christian emperors from Constantius II to Theodosius I. Under the first he
entered the Senate of Constantinople in 355.3 Theodosius made him prefect of
the city and entrusted him with the education of Arcadius, the crown-prince. A
large part of the surviving thirty-three speeches is formed of addresses to his
imperial masters. They are a mixture of purposeful flattery and the proclamation
of an ideal monarchy guided by philosophy. The speeches are also important for
the political conditions of the time, especially two addressed to Constantius (Or.
1. 4). In style Themistius was a pure Atticist, which agrees with his outlook
generally.
This is not the place to outline a picture of the emperor Julian and to trace the
development which made this prince, oppressed and persecuted by Constantius,
an enemy of Christianity, a victorious general in the west and finally the rival

' An instructive collection of passages in B. NORDEN, Ant. Kunstprosa. 4th impr. Leipz
1923, 429. 2 Ee Oral, ka terss 12 ep. LOSI. 1496.
3 The imperial letter and the speech expressing gratitude (Or. 2) have been preserved.
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 THE EMPIRE

emperor. His attempts at reform, conceived as a renewal of ancient paganism

guided by Neoplatonic ideas, are a fascinating chapter in religious history, and
that is where the story belongs. But Julian the littérateur demands some remarks.
The years under Constantius had constrained his stylus; he had even been forced
to write two culogies (Or. 1 f.) on the object of his hatred, apart from the one on
the empress Eusebia (Or. 3). When in 360 his elevation to the dignity of
Augustus also gave him freedom of speech, he made extensive use of it in his
struggle for his ideas. The ruler who wanted to put the clock back and who,
moreover, had his hands full with urgent matters of state, produced a great deal
of hastily written work, only part of which survives. A satire in the manner of
Menippus, the Symposium, is of slight importance. It portrays great emperors at
the Saturnalia during an Olympian banquet and evaluates them against con-
temporary ideals of monarchy. The Oration to Helius (25. XII. 362) and the one
To Divine Mothers reveal how extremely confused were the emperor’s syn-
cretism and his philosophical ideas influenced by Neoplatonism. His literary zeal
remained unaltered when, at first very slowly, he marched out against the
Parthians. We get an impression of the polemic Against the Christians (Kara
TadtAaiwy, 3 books) from the retort by Cyrillus of Alexandria. The Antiochicus,
or Misopogon (hater of beards) has come down to us; this satire, which the
emperor, roused to anger in Antioch, wrote shortly before his death on the field
of battle, is an important piece of autobiography. The imperial wearer of the
philosopher’s beard took Cynicism very much to his heart and attacks the more
violently those who seem to be untrue to its ideals. Thus in 362 he turned
Against Uneducated Dogs (Eis tods damadedtovs xvas), while the speech
Against the Cynic Heracleus has a personal background. Problems of authenticity
are involved in Julian’s Letters and some Epigrams handed down under his name.
Yet among the letters there are genuine contemporary documents, especially the
letter to Themistius, which anticipates the problems of his reign, and the letter
to the Athenians with an autobiographical statement of account.
Julian’s legacy means a great deal for the image of the time and for the
characterization of this tragic figure. The style of these products, rapidly written
and dependent on fashionable models, has little of importance for us.
By way of appendix brief mention is made of the rhetorical school of Gaza,
which began to prosperin the beginning of the sixth century and whose important
representatives were all Christians: Procopius, who wrote strictly Atticist
declamations, progymnasmata and letters, apart from theological works, and
paid homage to the emperor Anastasius in a Panegyricus; his pupil Choricius,
who is of special interest for his defence of actors and for his description of the
churches in Gaza in his speeches to bishop Marcianus; Aeneas, of whom we have
some letters and a dialogue Theophrastus, in which the philosopher is converted
to Christianity.
Works on rhetoric, such as we traced into the third centurv (p. 843 f.), went on
being produced until the end of antiquity. We know that Lachares of Athens,
who belongs in the fifth century, wrote about prose rhythm. His most successful
pupil was Nicolaus of Lycian Myra, of whom we have Progymnasmata. They
873
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

have a certain value for the knowledge of a tradition which made do with the
traditional material without creating anything new.

J. GEFFCKEN, Der Ausgang des griech-rom. Heidentums. 2nd ed., Heidelb. 1929. -
Libanius: r. FORSTER, 12 vols. Leipz. 1903-27.J.BIDEZ, Themistius in L, Brieven.
Paris 1936 (critical ed. of 52 letters with comm.). L. HARMAND, L. discours sur le
patronage. Paris 1955 (with transl. and comm.). Pp. WOLF, Vom Schulwesen der
Spatantike. Studien zu L. Baden-Baden 1952 (with bibl.); “L. und sein Kampf um
die hellenische Bildung’. Mus. Helv. 11, 1954, 231. P. PETIT, L. et la vie municipale
@ Antioche au IV® siécle apres J.-C. Paris 1956; ‘Recherches sur la publication et la
diffusion des discours de L.’ Historia 5, 1956, 479; Les étudiants de L. Paris 1957.
A.-J. FESTUGIERE, Antioche paienne et chrétienne. L., Chrysostome et les moines de
Syrie. Paris 1959. This valuable book gives a translation of the Antiochicus with
archaeological comm. by J. MARTIN, with the history of the activity of L. in
Antioch and a selection of the letters in translation, all in chronological order. —
Himerius: A. COLONNA, Rome 1951; id., “Himeriana’ Boll. del com. per la prepar.
della ed. naz. dei class. Gr. e Lat. 9, 1961, 33. S. EITREM, L. AMUNDSEN, Fragments
from the Speeches of Him.’ Class. et Med. 17, 1956, 23. - Themistius: The
paraphrases of Aristotle in vol. 5 of the Commentaria in Aristotelem Graeca (v.
p- 580). The speeches: w. pinporg, Leipz. 1832; repr. by Olms/Hildesheim
1961. H. KESTERS, Antisthéne de la dialectique. Louvain 1935. Id., Plaidoyer d’un
socratique contre le Phédre de Platon. XXVI° discours de Th. Introd., texte et trad.
Louvain 1959. The edition is useful, the thesis that in this case Themistius has
appropriated a writing of one of the Socratics, is untenable; cf. 0. GIGON, Mus.
Helv. 18, 1961, 239; O. REGENBOGEN, Gnom. 34, 1962, 28. G. DOWNEY, ‘Educa-
tion and Public Problems as seen by Th.’. Trans. Am. Phil. Ass. 86, 1955, 291. —
Julian: J. BrpEz and F. CUMONT, J. imperatoris epistulae leges poemata fragmenta
varia. Paris 1922.J.BIDEZ, I/1: Discours; 1/2: Lettres. Coll. des Un. d. Fr. 1932 and
1924 (bilingual). w. c. wRIGHT, 3 vols. Loeb Class. Libr. 1913-23. B. A. VAN
GRONINGEN, I. imp. epistulae selectae. Textus min. 27, Leiden 1960. F. BOULANGER,
Essai critique sur la syntaxe de lempereur Julien. Lille-Paris 1922. J. BIDEZ, La vie de
lempereurJ.Paris 1930. On his religious principles M. P. NILSSON, Gesch. d. gr.
Rel. 2, 2nd ed. Munich 1961, 455. J. KABIERSCH, Untersuchungen zum Begriff der
Philanthropia bei dem Kaiser J. Klass. Phil. Stud. 21, Wiesbaden 1960. - The old
editions, quoted in Christ-Schmid’s Lit.-Gesch. are still the only ones for the
Gazaeans. Also the editions of Aeneas, Theophrastus sive de immortalitate animae
by MARIA-E. COLONNA, Naples 1958. Nicolaus: J. FELTEN, Leipz. 1913.

6 PHILOSOPHY
During the first two centuries of the empire philosophy was dominated by
traditionalism,which however, allowed varieties of considerable breadth. While
on the one hand the tradition continued in its external form, the ancient
doctrines were also filled with a genuine inspiration. Compilation, initiated by
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the Peripatetics, was carried on. Large parts have been traced of a Compendium
of Tenets (Lovaywy) tov dpeckdvrwv) written by Aetius in the first or second
century.! They are invaluable for the history of ancient philosophy, especially
because Aetius proceeded only by quotation and did not introduce any personal
exegesis.
The Peripatos maintained its ancient close connection with scientific work.
The discovery of Aristotle’s didactic writings and their republication (v. p. 578)
laid the basis for an extensive activity in commenting. Mention was made of this
with regard to Themistius. From among a fairly large number Alexander of
Aphrodisias (early 3rd c.)? is singled out as a scholarly expounder who devotedly
served his master. His teacher was Aristocles of Messana in Sicily, who belonged
to the truly Peripatetic tradition with his voluminous history of philosophy
(Ilepi dirocodias BiBXia «’).3 The fragments, most of which are preserved in
Eusebius’ Praeparatio Evangelica, give the impression that the work was written
with erudition and scholarly thoroughness; in its endeavours to trace the
development of the various doctrines it was considerably above Diogenes
Laertius’ level. He also wrote on rhetoric (Téyvae pytopixat).
The Academy had temporarily come to a certain understanding with
Scepticism as formulated by Pyrrhon (v. p. 685 f.), but its eclectical attitude again
brought about an alienation; as early as the end of the first century this philosophy
had undergone a process of renovation through Aenesidemus, who was once
close to the Academy, but opposed it because of its defection from scepsis.
Sextus Empiricus, a notable representative of the empirical medical school, with
which Aenesidemus also had close connections, is our main witness of the
struggle of this school against all dogmatism. He wrote at the end of the second
century, leaving an Outline of Pyrrhon’s Doctrine (Iluppdvevor broturdcets, 3
books) and Sceptica, composed of six books Against Mathematicians and five
Against Dogmatists.4 It must have been far from the minds of these advocates of
sceptical opposition to the conquests of reason that it should have contributed
towards preparing the way for mysticism.
Epicureanism still had its adherents, as shown by the information about the
Epicurean interests of Plotina, Trajan’s consort, or testimony like the inscription
! . DIELS has recognized Aetius’ work as the common source of Ps.-Plut.’s Epitome (on
which K. ZIEGLER, RE 21, 1951, 879), excerpts in Stobaeus in "HxAoyai duocxal cal 7Orxat
and Ps.-Galen, Ilepi ¢iAoc. icropias and has proved this in Doxographi Graeci, Berl. 1879,
273-444.
2 p. MORAUX, Alexandre d’ Aphrodise. Exégete de la Noétique d’ Aristote. Paris 1942. F. E.
CRANZ, ‘The Prefaces to the Greek Editions and the Latin Translations of Al. of Aphr. 1450
to 1575.’ Proc. of the Am. Philos. Soc. 102, 1958, 510. The fragment of a comm. on the
Topica, which is at least 100 years older than the one by Alexander, Pap. Fayum 2 (ca. 100
A.D.), is important for the tradition of which Alexander forms part.
3 The fragments both in muLiacn, Fr. Phil. Gr. 3, 206, and H. HEILAND, Aristoclis
Messanii Reliquiae. Diss. Giessen 1925. F. TRABUCCO, ‘Tl problema del De Philosophia di
Aristocle di Messene e la sua dottrina’. Acme 11, 1958 (1960), 97.
4 His quotations from his own work produce the following chronology: Iupp. b7., then
Against the Dogm. 7-11 (against the dogmatic logicians, physicists, ethicists), then more
work on the Ilupp. or. 2. 3, finally Against the Math. 1-6 (on grammar, rhetoric, geometry,
arithmetic, astrology and music).
875
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

of Oenoanda (v. p. 683). There is, however, no trace of a further development

of the doctrine, which diminished greatly in importance in later antiquity.
In this time the greatest vigour is developed by the Stoa. It was decisive for
its influence that it had conquered the Roman world. Who could, for instance,
depreciate the influence which the Platonizing Stoic Areus Didymus of Alex-
andria exerted as Augustus’ court philosopher and as a friend of Maecenas’?!
L. Annaeus Cornutus of Leptis in Africa was the teacher of Lucan and Persius.
Of him we have a Concise Hellenic Theology (Emédpopn tOv Kara tHv “EA-
Anvixijy Georoytay mapadedopevwy), which is wholly in the tradition of Stoic
allegorizing as we came to know it earlier (p. 675) in an approximately con-
temporary writing of a certain Heraclitus. Another figure who well illustrates
the linking of remote realms of culture is the Stoicizing philosopher Chaeremon,?
who probably was head of the Museum at Alexandria after Apion (p. 804).
After 49 he came to the imperial court as Nero’s teacher and wrote historical
and grammatical studies. A comparison of the fragments of an Egyptian history
and the Hieroglyphica about the symbolical writing of the ancient Egyptians with
the information that he performed the function of hierogrammateus in an
Egyptian priesthood, suggests that he was a representative of the Egyptian-
Alexandrian syncretism which had a romantic predilection for the past and was
subject to Platonic and Pythagorean influences. The Pinax of Cebes, a surviving
allegorical description of various ways of life, probably also belongs in the first
century A.D. Roman Stoics wrote Greek so frequently that Seneca must almost
seem to be an exception. C. Musonius Rufus, of an equestrianfamily of Volsinii,
also used the Greek language. Stobaeus has preserved some notes of a pupil of
his called Lucius.3 What we learn from these shows that he followed the tradi-
tion faithfully. He must have been more influential through his personality.
During Nero’s last years he was banished to the island of Gyaros as a member of
the philosophical opposition, but he was allowed to return under Galba. During
the reigns of Vespasian and Titus the game of exile and return was repeated.
The number of his scholars was considerable. Among them we find, besides
Dion of Prusa, a man who gave an unforgettable personal stamp to the Stoical
command of life.
Epictetus was born in Phrygian Hierapolis in the middle of the first century
A.D. He was a slave and physically handicapped through lameness. To his
master, the court-official Epaphroditus, he owed his freedom, as well as an
opportunity to hear Musonius. He himself first taught in Rome, but had to
leave in the course of the expulsion ofphilosophers under the imperial decree of
exile. In Nicopolis in Epirus he gathered a large circle of students round him.
He probably did not die until Hadrian’s reign.
In his teaching he stressed questions of ethics even more than the ancient Stoa.

' Excerpts from his doxographical works on Plato and Pythagoras in Stobaeus, cf. H.
DIELS, Doxographi, 477.
2 A collection of the fragments with comm. by H. R. scuwyzER, Diss. Bonn (Klass.-
Phil. Stud. 4.) 1932. The fragments also in F Gr Hist 618.
3 Editions by 0. HENSE, Leipz. 1905.
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 THE EMPIRE

This is splendidly expressed by W. Theiler,! ‘with a minimum of metaphysics

he gives a maximum of ethical power’. Although he came very close to the
Cynics, heincreasingly picked up the threads which had been of importance to the
Stoa from the very outset. We do not hear the zealot who campaigns against the
good things of this world, but the sage who with quiet superiority counsels
abstention. For him, too, ‘fata sequi’ is the guiding principle, but he does not
proclaim it with the heroic fervour of a Seneca, but with humble resignation to
the will of providence. He expounds the ancient stoical cosmopolitanism in the
accents of a true love of mankind. It is understandable that attempts have been
made to detect Christian elements in him. He never wrote anything; what we
know of him we owe to Arrian (v. p. 847), who, in the dedicatory letter to the
Diatribes has given us a picture of the strong and direct impact of Epictetus’
delivery.
According to Willy Theiler the last Stoic who had anything of importance to
write was the emperor Marcus Aurelius. Through his correspondence as a
future ruler with his teacher Fronto,? the significant turning point in his life can
still be detected. Fronto and Herodes Atticus made sincere attempts to win the
prince over to rhetoric, but the severity of his view of life led him in a different
direction, towards philosophy, which remained his companion when he had to
bear the heavy burden of cares of state after the long periods of peace under his
predecessors. The Parthians, the plague, Marcomanni and Quadi, a revolt under
Avidius Cassius, all these things kept him constantly occupied during his reign
(161-180). His philosophy gave him the internal peace which he needed to
perform his duties. Much of the twelve books of his contemplations (Ta eds
€avtov) was written in the field, as, for instance, the second in the land of the
Quadi, the third in Carnuntum. The aphoristical character, which is peculiar to
all the books except the first, probably the last to be written, is accounted for by
the nature of the author, but also by the conditions under which it was produced.
The Stoic doctrine had a different ring in Marcus Aurelius from that in
Epictetus. To a slight extent this is due to other sources which he consulted, such
as Posidonius. Nor is the difference in attitude a conclusive explanation, but
rather a difference of temperament. In Epictetus we observe a warmth of feeling
and a fine faith, while in Marcus Aurelius all is coloured by a profound resigna-
tion. The Historia Augusta (4. 27, 7) puts the word of the Platonic king-philo-
sopher in Marcus Aurelius’ mouth, but the emperor himself states it differently
(9. 29): ‘Do not hope for Plato’s state, but be satisfied with the slightest step
forward.’ Thus speaks the man who without the illusions, unassaulted by
temptation to take refuge in mysticism, followed along the path of duty the
divine in his inner self which the doctrine of the Stoa taught him to acknowledge.
A Berlin papyrus? has preserved large parts of the Ethical Elements (H@cKy
atouxetwars) of Hierocles of Alexandria, who was approximately contemporary

1 Gnom. 32, 1960, 500. ;

2 Particularly 1, 214 in C. R. HAINES, The Correspondence of Marcus Cornelius Fronto.
Loeb Class. Libr. 1919, of the year 146; a fine transl. in THEILER’s introduction (v. inf.), 9.
3 No. 400 P.: the authoritative edition of H. Vv. ARNIM, Berl. Klass. Texte 4, 1906.
2F 877
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

with Epictetus. This popularization of ancient Stoical ethics has little meaning
for us.
The last great and influential achievement of Greek philosophy is connected
with the name of Plotinus. His work occupies no more an isolated position in
time than that of the other Greek thinkers; we can also still discern many of the
lines which were focussed, as it were, in his philosophy, from which they exerted
their influence along various paths far into the centuries. Once and for all the
notion should be put aside that Neoplatonism is simply the subjugation of the
Hellenic intellect by the Orient, a sort of revenge of the myth over its tyrant, the
logos. On the other hand, Oriental elements, which were especially influential
in the later epoch, should not be underestimated. In this sphere the investigations
are mostly in a state of flux. In the case of Plotinus, however, it is valid to say
that his building was founded in Hellenic ground and was mainly constructed of
material of the same origin.
His philosophy was above all a truly renewed Platonism, although he did not
adopt the full scope of it. The dialectic of the early dialogues had hardly any
meaning for the new movement, and the same applied to Plato as a political
thinker; in the imperial era his words found no echo. But the radical separation
of the world of the senses from another which is only accessible to the intellect
and which relegates the only thing which has value in man to the sphere of that
intellect, these remained the determining and fixed prerequisites of the renewed
Platonism. In Plato we recognize the beginnings of important elements of
Plotinus’ system. The being beyond being (eé7éxewa ts oveias), which in
Republic 509 b is adjudged to the idea of the good, anticipates the surpassing of
all being by the One, and the curious passage in Letter 7 (341 c; cf. p. 514) about
the light which suddenly flashes after long endeavour is comparable, in spite of
many differences, with the way in which Plotinus conceives the attainment of
the highest goal.
The connecting lines traced here should not, however, conceal the awareness
that the new Platonism was not the immediate product of the tradition of the
Academy; it entered the ancient world as something new which had been
prepared in other quarters. The place of dialectical struggling, endless in
accordance with its nature, is taken over by the proclamation and spreading of
knowledge which has been acquired through the evidence of an inner vision.
Within the circle of the Neoplatonists there may have been disputes about the
manner in which the most varying problems of this knowledge are to be
arranged and subordinated — the knowledge itself is beyond doubt. Such a new
conviction may grow into intolerance. But the final goal is not mere knowledge
of the divine being, but union with it, experienced in the mystical act. Philo-
sophy has become religion.
This direction has been anticipated by various trends, but only to a slight
degree inside the Athenian Academy itself. Of course, significant starting-points
for the later doctrine can be detected in Speusippus and Xenocrates,! but during
' PH. MERLAN, From P Platonism to Neoplatonism. The Hague 1953.
5 Also H. : DOrRikg, ’ PhilosSe
Rundschau 3, 1955, 145 “Zum Ursprung der neuplat. Hypostasenlehre’. Herm. 82 1954, 331
¢ ag > ’ <

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 THE EMPIRE

its development in the Hellenistic era the school received only few fruitful
impulses. Nevertheless, eclecticism meant that other schools of thought were
approached with an open mind. Platonism did this also outside the Academy.
Thus Pythagorean influence can be pointed out in Eudorus of Alexandria, who
is of importance for the renewed vigour of the Platonic tradition in the first
century A.D.' Elements of the Peripatos and the Stoa also played an important
part in the school of the expounder of Plato Gaius (first half of the second cen-
tury A.D.), to whom we have access through the introductory Platonic treatises
Prologue and Didascalicus of his pupil Albinus.? Gaius coined the phrase which
dominated all future exegesis of Plato, that the Master’s utterances should be
interpreted sometimes emvoTnnoveKGs, sometimes efkotoAoyiKas,? sometimes
purely scientifically, sometimes as a reference or allegory. The writings of
Albinus reveal that a form of Platonism was gaining ground which stressed the
demiurge as the superior principle over the ideas as merely subsidiary causes of
being; it introduced the twin notion of dvvajus-evépyeva and the graduation
of the divine in the Neoplatonic system. Celsus, who in the late ’seventies of the
second century attacked the Christians in his True Word (’AAn6%s Adyos), was
close to this circle. The extensive apology of Origin (Kata KéAcov, 8 books)
makes it possible to restore it to a large extent.
Posidonius should be remembered regarding the Stoic influences to which
reference was made just now.‘ It may be mentioned that Theon of Smyrna, who
wrote under Hadrian, probably utilized a Timaeus commentary of the Peri-
patetic Adrastus for his Mathematical Introduction to Plato (Ilept t@v Kara ro
pabnuatixoy ypnoiuwy ets THY WAdtwvos avdyvwaw),> while Adrastus drew
on Posidonius.
In addition to Plutarch’s conciliatory attitude, Maximus of Tyre is also a
characteristic example of the way in which the boundaries between the systems
were being obliterated. This wandering orator and philosopher opened up his
Platonism to practically all systems except Epicurus, and combined a notion of
the divine raised to transcendency with a broadly developed demonism. Of the
lectures which he delivered in the era of Commodus, forty-one Dialexeis survive,
tractates written for the sake of effect, in a style replete with mannerisms; they
are mainly concerned with the traditional popular-philosophical themes.
The most important phenomenon in the prehistory of Neoplatonism is the
revival of Pythagoreanism. In an earlier chapter we discussed its apocryphal
existence during the Hellenistic age and the movement in Rome at the end of

' H. DORRIE, ‘Der Platoniker Eud. von Alexandreia’. Herm. 79, 1944, 25. On the move-
ment which began in Alexandria a. wLosoK, Laktanz und die philos. Gnosis. Abh. Ak.
Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1960/2, 52.
2 On his relation with Gaius: K. PRAECHTER, ‘Zum Platoniker G.’. Herm. 51. 1916, 510,
On his characteristics cf. H. DORRIE, ‘Die Frage nach dem Transzendenten im Mittel-
platonismus’, in Sources de Plotin. Entretiens sur l’ant. class. 5. Fondation Hardt. Vandceuvres-
Geneva 1960. 3 Proclus in Tim. 1, 340, 25 Diehl.
4 w. THEILER, Die Vorbereitung des Neuplatonismus. Problemata 1. Berl. 1930, attempted to
prove his importance for Neoplatonism. H. R. SCHWYZER, RE 21, 1951, 577, is sceptical.
5 —, HILLER, Leipz. 1878. J. DUPUIS, Paris 1892 (with transl.).
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 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

the Republic, which was connected with the name of Nigidius Figulus and
Q. Sextus. It is difficult to assess how old collections of aphorisms like Pythagoras’
Golden Words (Xpvoa én)! are, but they were probably augmented in the
course of time. In spite of the pretentious title, the wisdom which they pass on as
Pythagorean is rather pedestrian.
The most impressive figure of the new Pythagoreanism in the first century
A.D. was Apollonius of Tyana, of whom we have heard already (p. 837).
Moderatus of Gades wrote at about the same time as Apollonius; he had a close
kinship with Platonism and conceived the Pythagorean theory of numbers as a
system of symbolic metaphysics. The doctrine which he passed on that the One
is above Being (16 mp@rov €v dep 70 etvac),? is of importance in that it prepares
for the central thought of Neoplatonism. It also looks backward to the notion
of Plato’s esoteric doctrine which recently became a point of controversy. In the
second century Nicomachus of Gerasa in Arabia, also an author of a biography
of Pythagoras, wrote an Introduction to the Theory of Numbers (ApOuntixn
eloaywy7),3 much esteemed by the Neoplatonists and much commented on.
For the close connection of Pythagoreanism with Platonism, for the stress on
God’s transcendence, for the evaluation of matter based on a dualistic view of
the universe, no other thinker of the second century A.D. is so significant as the
Syrian Numenius of Apamea.* The reproach levelled at Plotinus that he was
indebted to Numenius5 was superficial, but not entirely inexplicable. Numenius
interpreted Platonism as opposition against the invasion of Peripatetic elements,
to which the eclecticism of Antiochus of Ascalon (p. 686) had opened the door.
The Platonist Atticus,° who lived in the second half of the second century,
adopted the same hostile attitude to Aristotle. But in spite of his disavowal of
eclecticism regarding Aristotle, he admitted many a Stoic element.
The attitude of the Pythagoreans, which is so important for Neoplatonism,
their inclination towards a new mode of life and to a knowledge of the divine
as its goal, must be seen in the wider framework of a movement which had its
roots in the Hellenistic age and began to gain ground during the first few
centuries of the empire. This dualism turned away from the world and aspired
to save man in the knowledge of God and in union with Him. It is presented
in a collection which, under the name of Hermes Trismegistus, combined a
number of tractates which are of importance to the history of religion. The most
important of these Hermetica, among which there are many differences, is the
' DP, Fasc. 2, 82; now D. YOUNG, Theognis etc. Leipz. 1961, 86. There were other collec-
tions of sayings by Sextus (A. Elter, Bonn 1891/92), Secundus, Demophilus, Eusebius;
judging from the remnants they were very colourless.
2 In Simplicius, In Phys. 1, 7; cf. B. R. DODDS, Class. Quart. 22, 1928, 140.
3 Edition by R. HOCHE, Leipz. 1866; An ‘Appovixdy eyxetpiSiov by him has also been
preserved: Cc. JAN, Musici scriptores Graeci. Leipz. 1895, 237.
+ G. MARTANO, Numenio d’ Apamea. Naples 1960.
§ Porphyry, Vita Plotini, 17, 1. The grounds which make this reproach intelligible are
developed by k. R. DODDs in ‘Numenius and Ammonius’, his contribution to the Sources de
Plotin mentioned in the bibl. on Plotinus.
° The most important fragments in Eusebius’ Praeparatio Evangelica 11, 1 f. 15, 4-9. 12 f.
Je BAUDRY, Afticos. Fragm. de son euvre avec introd. et notes. Paris 1931.
880
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Poemandres. This is not the place to go into the details of this Hermetic belief,
this pagan sister of the Christian gnosis, but it must be allotted a place in the
intellectual milieu of the evolution of Neoplatonism. The same applies to the
Chaldean Oracles, which were very highly esteemed among Neoplatonists. They
originated in Marcus Aurelius’ time; the author is probably the theurgist
Julianus. The remnants of these hexameter sayings (Aéyia) show Pythago-
rean, Platonic and Stoic elements combined with an unmistakable Oriental
influence.!
Plotinus, who evolved his system from all this confusing abundance into the
last great creation of ancient philosophy, was born in 205. The place of his birth
is unknown; an indication of Eunapius pointing to Lycopolis in Upper Egypt is
unreliable.? He turned to philosophy at a late date, when he was 28. He was
first disappointed by the scholastic philosophers in Alexandria, but soon found
in Ammonius, later surnamed Saccas, the teacher who was decisive for his
career. Ammonius did not write himself. What we know about him, largely
through Porphyry, points to a combination of Pythagorean and Platonic
elements. There is no doubt but that he was responsible for the intellectual
awakening of Plotinus, who studied with him for eleven years in a Platonic
community of life and spirit. He then joined Gordian III’s expedition against the
Persians (243) in order to become acquainted with the wisdom of Indian
thinkers.* But the emperor was murdered early in 244, Plotinus had to flee to
Antioch and went to Rome in the same year. There he began to teach and
continued doing so for twenty-six years, completing his instruction, after ten
years of oral teaching, with the written word. In the year 269 he had to retire to
Campania with a serious illness, and died there in 270.
We have already tried to understand the historical preliminaries to Plotinus’
doctrine, of which we can only indicate some of the essential features. The
controlling thought is the supremacy over all forms and degrees of reality of the
One, which, however, must not be understood to be a numerical notion. It
rather eludes any positive description, being the highest deity and the origin of
all that is. Below this is the realm of the intellect which, as pure thought-force,
is one, but is nevertheless already split into multiplicity. This is the location of
the ideas which for Plotinus no longer occupy the central position in his doctrine
to the same degree as in Plato’s. In this graduated structure, which we traverse
downward, the realm of the soul follows next; it is neither corporeal (Stoa),
nor harmony (Pythagorean), nor entelechy (Peripatos). It is the organizational
principle of all living organisms, of the cosmos as a whole as well as of each

t Bibl. in M. P. NILSSON, Gesch. d. gr. Rel. 2, 2nd ed. Munich 1961, 479, 1.
2 ER. ZUCKER, ‘Plotin und Lykopolis’. Sitzb. D. Ak. Berlin 1950/1 thinks that this indica-
tion is correct and points to the vigorous Greek educational elements in this Graeco-
Egyptian world. He also discusses the surviving writing of Alexander of Lycopolis, a
Neoplatonic who wrote Against the Doctrines of the Manichaeans (xpos ras Mavcxatov dd€as).
3 H. DORRIE, ‘Ammonios, der Lehrer Plotins’. Herm. 83, 1955, 439.
4 Porphyry, Vita Plotini, 3, 17. There is no support for the conjecture of E. BREHIER, La
Philos. de Pl. Paris 1928, 107, that Plotinus should have borrowed essential thoughts from
India.
881
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

individual living creature. Even matter, the non-existent in the sense of Plotinus’
reality, acquires its form (the Aristotelian elSos) from the realm of the soul.
The individual degrees of being have not evolved one from the other in time;
emanation and origin are mere metaphors in this system; all these spheres or
hypostases are mutually connected (an important passage 6, 5, 4, 23), forming
one great, ultimately homogeneous structure, which determines the possibilities
and tasks of the philosophizing human. The labour of his intellect can lead the
soul back to the One out of the entanglement in the multiplicity of earthly
things. Cleanliness of body and soul are self-evident conditions, as they are for
the Pythagoreans, but with Plotinus the ultimate goal is no longer mere know-
ledge, but union with the highest principle, the unio mystica. It is attained after
long preparation, in the rare moments when man is freed from himself in
ecstasy. According to Porphyry (Vita 23. 16), this fulfilment fell to Plotinus’ lot
four times.
Plotinus made his writings accessible to his students, but in his lifetime he did
not produce an edition for the book trade. In Porphyry’s Life (4-6) we have a
trustworthy enumeration of Plotinus’ works in chronological order. This clearly
demonstrates that Plotinus did not proceed systematically, but selected urgent
questions as they occurred in the course ofhis teaching. From a scholium in some
manuscripts after 4. 4, 29 we learn of an edition produced by Eustochius, a
physician and one of the Master’s most intimate scholars. There is much in
favour of the theory that the quotations from Plotinus in Eusebius, which are so
valuable for the tradition, go back to this edition. The edition of Porphyry,
however, published somewhat later, between 301 and 305, has survived. It
combined the writings in subject groups, which yielded three corpora (swpdt1a)
of 27. 18 and 9 writings, i.e. six groups of nine as a whole; this was the reason
for the title Enneads which has become customary. The so-called Theology,
transmitted in Arabic, is a presentation of the doctrine bloated with paraphrases.
An attempt to establish a correspondence between this and the cydAva ex tOv
avvovotoy, which Amelius, another pupil and companion of Plotinus’, wrote in
about a hundred books, lacks dependable support.!
Plotinus’ most important pupil, the Syrian Porphyry of Tyre, originally
called Malcus, was a scholar of extensive learning rather than a creative philo-
sopher. He was pledged to Plotinus’ doctrine by his ultimate concern, which
was theological, the purification and salvation of the soul. He was born in Tyre
in 234, studied in Athens and in 263 came to Rome to join Plotinus, whom he
left in 268 after a great inner crisis, without giving up his faith in the doctrine.
After a long stay in Sicily he returned to Rome. It may be assumed that he
directed the school after Plotinus.
For his development the remnants of a treatise On the Philosophical Benefit of
Oracles (Ilepi ris é« Aoyiwv dirocodias) are important, which he wrote while
he was still in his native land. It is dominated by a belief in demons and a magic
control over the gods. Later writings like On the Images of the Gods or the Letter
' Cf. H.R. SCHWYZER, RE 21, 1951, $05. A. N. SUBOS, Amelius von Etrurien. Diss. Munich
1954. Id., Amelii Neoplatonici fragmenta. Athens 1956.
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to Anebo,! an Egyptian priest, both only surviving in fragments, do not point to

a renunciation of these notions, but indicate that he tried to fit them into
Plotinus’ system. We already met Porphyry as his master’s biographer and
editor of his writings; characteristic of the Neoplatonist are the surviving Life of
Pythagoras and the treatise De Abstinentia (Ilept daroyfs euabdywv). What mean-
ing in this conception of the universe the ancient instrument of allegory
could assume is shown by the treatise On the Nymphs’ Cave (lept rod év
‘Odvaceia trv Nuugddv dvtpov), which turns Od. 13. 102-112 into an allegory
of the cosmos and the fate of the soul. Porphyry has the greatest personal appeal
for us in the late letter To Marcella, his wife, in which he develops the basic
features of his doctrine. This religious-minded author, in whose spiritual world
demonism played a significant part, did serious scholarly work in a variety of
fields. In his voluminous and versatile work there were a large number of
commentaries on Plato and Aristotle. His preoccupation with Aristotelian logic,
of which we have the E’caywy7}, became an important chapter of the intellectual
tradition. Among the loss of much else we particularly regret that of his work
Against the Christians, which developed an extensive criticism in fifteen books.
The influence of Neoplatonism soon assumed tremendous proportions.
Schools began to separate off which developed numerous variations without
upsetting the foundations. The Syrian Iamblichus of Chalcis (c. 275 to c.
330) was of the greatest importance for this event. In Rome he heard Porphyry,
but his path deviated considerably from his teacher’s. Contradictions, which
Neoplatonism carried within itself, are more sharply evident in him. All the
gates were open now; superstition and magical practices entered unhindered,
Oriental elements flowed in in an increasing degree. On the other hand, all this
was carefully fitted into the system, and the result was an ingeniously contrived
abstruse extension of the doctrine, mostly with the aid of divisions into trinities.
With one exception, the surviving works are remnants of Pythagorean Dog-
matics (Luvaywy?) Tov Ilvbayopeiwy doypdtwv, 10 books). There is also a Life
of Pythagoras, a Protrepticus and three writings on the doctrine of numbers in the
Pythagorean-Neoplatonic sense. The treatise De Mysteriis, whose authenticity is
no longer doubted, stands on its own; excerpts of it were translated into Latin
by Marsilius Ficinus (1497). It purports to be the answer of the Egyptian priest
Abammon to Porphyry’s letter to Anebo and is one of the most important
religious documents in late antiquity. Among the representatives of the Syrian
movement in Neoplatonism which originated with Iamblichus we mention
his pupil Theodorus of Asine, who further elaborated his master’s system of
trinities.
The polytheistical-superstitious line of Neoplatonism is particularly evident
in the Pergamenian school, founded by lamblichus’ pupil Aedesius of Cappa-
docia. Through Maximus, Acdesius’ pupil, it strongly influenced Julian’s

! A. R. SODANO, Naples 1958. F. ALTHEIM and R. sTIEHL, Porphyrios und Empedokles.

Tiibingen 1954 have published excerpts from Porphyry’s writings in an Arabic writing of
Sakrastani, among which a fragment of the Letter to Anebo which is important for the pre-
history of Iamblichus’ De Mysteriis; cf. ALTHEIM-STIEHL, Philologia Sacet 1958, Loo.
883
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

syncretical polytheism. This movement was advocated with an elementary

introduction to Neoplatonism which Salustius passed on in his surviving work
On Gods and the Universe. It is very likely that the author is the friend of the
emperor to whom he addressed the fourth speech and for whose removal he
consoles himself in the eighth.!
The Alexandrian school is in marked opposition to the directions mentioned.
The religious and metaphysical components are superseded in favour of scientific
elements. The spirit of the Museum is still active. On this basis contacts with
Christianity were possible. Synesius of Cyrene, the later bishop, found his
intellectual starting-point in these surroundings. We already met him as a
writer of hymns (p. 812), and a glance at his prose works? will serve to complete
the image of this attractive personality who brought about a personal synthesis
of the various influences which converged in him. He was a pupil of the daughter
of the philosopher and mathematician Theon of Alexandria, the philosopher
Hypatia, who was murdered by fanatical Christians in 415. Synesius, born between
370 and 375, studied Neoplatonic philosophy, astronomy and mathematics
under her and this instruction decided his career, while the Athenian schools at
that time had nothing to offer. Personal observation had made him acquainted
with Byzantium and its court and also in other ways he had been active in his
own particular combination of the vita activa and contemplativa, when in 410 he
was elected metropolitan of Pentapolis in his native country. If we are to believe
the ecclesiastical writers? he was baptized after his election. But the hymns, of
which part was written earlier, clearly reveal his conversion. In spite of this he
never renounced his close connection with philosophy. Nothing shows this so
clearly as the passage in one of his letters (Ep. 11 p. 648 H.), where he states that
he felt his ghostly office not as an alienation from philosophy, but as its con-
firmation. He probably died about 415, but the precise date is uncertain.
The oldest of the surviving prose works is the speech [epi BaotAetas,+ in
which as an ambassador he developed his conception of the ideal ruler before
the emperor Arcadius. In spite of its literary leanings it reveals a great deal of his
personality, while in his Dion (Atwy 7} mepi tis Kar’ adrov diaywyijs),5 in
which he defends his philosophical and ‘musical’ activities against all sorts of
fanaticism by taking Dion as his model, his literary tendency contributes to an
understanding of the author. In the Adyiarior Adyou 7) wepl mpovolas® he
describes the vicissitudes of his patron Aurelian under the guise of the myth of
Osiris-Typhon; the treatise [epi tod Sdpov accompanied a celestial globe
which he had ordered. In Ilepi évumviwy he discussed dreams, especially their
mantic meaning. The playful Praise of Baldness (Dadaxpias éyxdpuov) was

(Ce BOGE Ha), GL

> N. TERZAGHI, Synesii Cyrenensis opuscula. Rome 1944.
3 Evagr. Hist. eccl. 1, 15. Nicephorus Call. Hist. eccl. 14, 55. Photius Bibl. can. 26.
* CH. LACOMBRADE, Le Discours sur la royauté de Synésios de Cyréne. Trad. nouv. avec
introd., notes et comm. Paris 1951.
® K, TREU, Synesios von Kyrene. Ein Kommentar zu seinem ‘Dion’, Berl. 1958. Id., Syn. v.
Kyr. Dion Chrysostomos oder vom Leben nach seinem Vorbild. Berlin 1959 (Text and transl.).
® s nicoLost, Il ‘De providentia’ di Sinesio di Cirene. Padua 1959.
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mentioned earlier (p. 834). He was fond of writing letters! at every stage of his
career. The collection, which comprises 156 of them, represents a chapter of
biography and cultural history dominated by the venerable personality of its
erudite author. He gave his hymns, linked as they were with the form of a
literary genre, a Doric colouring, but in his prose he attempted to write pure
Attic.
Of Hierocles of Alexandria (sth c.) we have a commentary on the Golden
Words of Pythagoras and considerable remnants of his work On Providence and
Fate. This erudite school is most impressively represented in the numerous
commentaries on Plato and Aristotle, for which the names of Ammonius,
Olympiodorus and of Ioannes Philoponus, later converted to Christianity, will
serve as testimony.”
The Athenian school, which had been greatly stimulated by Iamblichus
regarding the principles of the interpretation of Plato and the scholastic expan-
sion of the system, begins with Plutarch of Athens. One of his assistants, Syrian,
is noteworthy, because he introduced rhetoric into the didactic activity.3 The
most successful representative of this direction, Proclus (c. 410-484), was a
student of the two men mentioned. He was born in Byzantium, passed his
youth in Lycia and at an early stage he found in the school in Athens the place
for his activity. His biography was written by his zealous pupil and adherent
Marinus. In a series of writings, of which we single out the surviving Outline of
Theology (Xtotxyeiwors BeodAoyixy) and the Physics (Ltovyeiwous Pvorky), as
well as the numerous Commentaries on Plato, whose theology is summed up in the
important Ets tyv [lAdtwvos beoAoyiav, Proclus elaborated the Neoplatonic
system by making increasingly minute subdivisions and interpolations, of which
the insertion of units between the Original One and the intelligible was particu-
larly characteristic of the Athenian school. In his versatility Proclus is reminiscent
of many Alexandrians, though he is not up to their scientific level. He wrote on
mathematics (e.g. a commentary on Euclid) and astronomy; he also commented
on Homer and Hesiod. We have remnants of his interpretations of the latter. It
is doubtful, to say the least, if the Chrestomathy is his (v. p. 81 n. 1). His hymns
were discussed earlier (p. 812).
The last representatives of the Athenian school, Damascius,* in whom dialectic

1 a. GARZYA, ‘Per l’edizione delle epistole di Sinesio’. Accad. dei Lincei. Bolletino del
Comitato per la preparazione della Ediz. Naz. Nuova serie 6, 1958, 29, and ‘Nuovi scoli alle
epistole di Sinesio’, Ibid. 8, 1960, 47. Cf. also Rendic. Accad. Linc. 8/13, 1958, 1, and Rend.
Accad. di Napoli 33, 1958, 41.
2 KL. KREMER, Der Metaphysikbegriff in den Aristoteles-Kommentaren der Ammonios-Schule.
Beitr. z. Gesch. u. Theol. des Mittelalters 39/1. Miinster 1961. Of editions of the Plato com-
mentaries of Olympiodorus ofparticular value L. G. WESTERINK, O. Commentaries on the First
Alcib. of Pl. Amsterdam 1956. The comm. on Phaed. and Gorg. edited by w. NORVIN,
Leipz. 1913, 1936; cf. also on Damascius.
3 H. RABE, Syr. in Hermog. commentaria. Leipz. 1892/93.
4+ L. G. WESTERINK has proved in his enquiry Damascius, Lectures on the Philebus, wrongly
attributed to Olympiodorus. Amsterdam 1959, that the comm. on the Phaedo and Philebus of
Cod. Marc. gr. 196 fol. 242-337 actually belong to Damascius; he has also re-edited the
texts on the speech with transl. and comm.
BEV) 885
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

and mysticism blended once more in a singular manner, and the excellent
Aristotle-commentator Simplicius, were among the seven philosophers who
went east, to the court of the king of Persia, after the closure of the school by
Justinian (529). The conclusion of peace in the year $33 made it possible for
them to return to an Athens which was no longer to be the city of the Platonic
Academy.

Sextus Empiricus: H. MUTSCHMANN; I: Pyrrh. Hypoth. Leipz. 1912, repr. 1958;

I: Adv. dogmaticos (7-11) 1914; Il: Adv. mathematicos (1-6) 2nd ed. J. MAU. 1962.
IV: x. JANACEK 1962. With Engl. transl.: rR. G. BURY, 4 vols. Loeb Class. Libr.
1933-49. Important for the text: w. HEINTZ, Studien zu Sext. Emp. Schr. d.
Kénigsb. Gel. Ges. Sonderreihe 2, 1932. — Cornutus: C. LANG, Leipz. 1881. —
Heraclitus: Edition of the Bonner philol. Gesellschaft. Leipz. 1910. — Cebes:
K. PRAECHTER, Leipz. 1893. A. PH. FLOROS, ‘‘O K. Ilia’. Platon 7, 1955, 287.
Cc. E. FINCH, ‘The Place of Codex Vat. gr. 1823 in the Cebes Manuscript Tra-
dition’. Am. Journ. Phil. 81, 1960, 176. — Epictetus: w. A. OLDFATHER, Contribu-
tions towards a Bibliography of Epictetus. Univ. of Ulinois 1927. A suppl. ed. by
M. HARMAN, with a preliminary list of Epictetus manuscripts by W.H. FRIEDERICH
and c. u. FAYE, ibid. 1952. Important for the text: REVILO PENDLETON OLIVER,
Nicold Perotti’s Version of Enchiridion of Ep. Urbana 1954; also Kk. Mras, AfdA 12,
1959, 107. Text: H. SCHENKL, 2nd ed. Leipz. 1916. Bilingual: w. A. OLDFATHER,
Discourses, 2 vols. Loeb Class. Libr. 1926 (repr. 1952/59). J. SOUILHE, Entretiens,
Coll. des Univ. d. Fr. 2 vols. 1948/49. PABLO-JORDAN DE URRIES Y AZARA. I.
Barcelona 1957. H. F. W. STELLWAG, Het 1.B. der Diatriben. Amsterd. 1933
(transl. with good comm.). Transl. w. CAPELLE, Jena 1925. J. BONFORTE, New
York 1955. R. LAURENTI, Epitteto. Le diatribe ¢ iframmenti. Bari 1960. Interpreta-
tion: B. L. HIJMANS JR., "Aoxnovs—Notes on Epictetus’ Educational System.’ Assen
1959. An elaborate article on Epictetus by M. spANNEUT in the Reallex.f.Ant. u.
Chr. 5, 1961, 599. — Marcus Aurelius: H. SCHENKL, Leipz. 1913. The following
four editions are bilingual: c. R. Hanes, Loeb Class. Libr. 1916. A. J. TRANNOY,
Coll. des Un. d. Fr. 1925. A. 8. L. FARQUHARSON, 2 vols. (with comm.) Oxf. 1944.
W. THEILER, Ziirich 1951 (outstanding, with excellent notes, bibl. p- 300). A
translation by A. MAUERSBERGER, 4th ed. Leipz. 1957 (Samml. Dieterich 50).
Various studies and papers: H. R. NEUENSCHWANDER, Mark Aurels Beziehungen
zu Seneca und Poseidonios. Noctes Romanae 3. Bern 19ST. A. S. L. FARQUHARSON,
Marcus Aurelius. His Life and his World. 2nd ed. Oxf. 1952. F. C. THOMES, Per la
critica di Marco Aurelio. Turin 1955 (Pubbl. d. Fac. di Lett. e Filos. 7, 5). CH.
PARAIN, Marc-Auréle. Portraits d’histoire. Paris 1957. Epictetus and Marcus
Aurelius: M. POHLENZ, Die Stoa. 2nd ed. Gott. 1959. — Albinus: p. Lourts, Paris
1945. New ed. in prep. by H. DORRIg. Bibl.: r. &. witr, Albinus and the History
of Middle Platonism. Cambr. 1937. J. H. LOENEN, ‘ Albinus’ Metaphysics’. Mnem.
5.4, 9, 1956, 296. 10, 1957, 35. — Celsus: 0. GLOcKNER, KI. Texte. Bonn 1924.
R. BADER, Der “AA O75 Adyos des Kelsos. Tiib. Beitr. 33, 1940. A. WIESTRAND,
886
 THE EMPIRE

‘Die wahre Lehre des Kelsos’. Bull. de la Soc. Royale des Lettres de Lund. 1941/42,
391. H. CHADWICK, Orig. contra Celsum. Transl. with introd. and notes. Cambr.
1953. C. ANDRESEN, Logos und Nomos. Die Polemik des K. wider das Christentum.
Abh. z. Kirchengesch. 30, Berl. 1955 (A study of the philosophical personality
of Celsus utilizing the unprinted collection of fragments of H. 0. SCHRODER,
which was present in Giessen as a Habil. writing in 1939.) - Maximus of Tyre:
H. HOBEIN, Leipz. 1910. — Numenius: £. A. LEEMANS, Studie over de wijsgeer
Numenius van Apamea met uitgave der fragmenten. Brussels 1937. R. BEUTLER, RE,
S 7, 1940, 664. — The relevant sections in M. P. NILSSON, Gesch. d. gr. Rel. 2, 2nd
ed. Munich 1961, 415. 426. 435, are important for the intellectual background
of Neoplatonism and the system itself. - Hermetica: The texts: w. SCOTT-A. S.
FERGUSON, 4 vols., Oxf. 1924-36. A. D. NOCK~A.-]. FESTUGIERE, 4 vols. Coll. des
Un. d. Fr. 1945-54; 1 and 2 repr. 1960. A tractate, not in the Corpus of Hermetical
writings, has become known in an Armenian transl. through Der Bote aus dem
Matenadaran 3. Eriwan. Ac. of Sc. of the Armenian SSR. 1956; Armenian text
by JA. MANANDYAN, Russian by s. AREFSHATYAN. Cf. H. DORRIE, Gnont. 29,
1957, 446. Of fundamental importance for the whole section the great work of
A.-J. FESTUGIERE, La révélation d’Hermeés Trismégiste. 1: L’astrologie et les sciences
occultes; Il: Le dieu cosmique; Ill: Les doctrines de ldme; 1V: Le dieu inconnu et la
gnose. Paris 1944-54. A. WLOSOK, Laktanz und die philos. Gnosis. Abh. Akad.
Heidelb. Phil.-hist. Kl. 1960/2. 115. — Plotinus: Bibl. by B. MARIEN in the transl.
of Cilento (v. infra). For the history of the text p. HENRY, Les états du texte de
P. Brussels 1938; Les Manuscrits des Ennéades. Ibid. 1941; 2nd ed. 1948. H. R.
SCHWYZER, Gn. 32, 1960, 32 on the passages of Plotinus quoted in the Praepa-
ratio Evangelica of Eusebius. Editions: £. BREHIER, 6 vols. Coll. des Un. d. Fr.
1924-38; 2nd ed. from 1954 (bilingual). New critical edition, the only authorita-
tive one: P. HENRY-H. R. SCHWYZER, I (Enn. 1-3). Brussels 1951; If (Enn. 4-5)
1959. Translations: R. HARDER, Leipz. 1930-37; new with Greek text based on
HENRY-SCHWYZER, and notes 1 a/b (1-21) Hamburg 1956. II a/b (22-29) edd.
BEUTLER-THEILER. 1962. V a/b (46-54) edd. BEUTLER-THEILER. 1960. V c
appendix. Porphyry on Plotinus’ life and the order of his works. Ed. Marg.
1958. An Engl. selection in transl., H. A. ARMSTRONG, Plotinus, London 1953.
Italian v. ciLENTO, Antologia Plotiniana, Bari 1955, by the same also the
valuable It. transl. of Plotinus, Bari 1947-49. The Engl. transl. by st MACKENNA,
and ed. revised by B. s. PAGE, London 1957. An outstanding monograph is the
RE article (21, 1951, 471-592) by H. R. scHwyzeR with bibl. and a valuable
section on the subsequent history. pH. v. Pistorius, PI. and Neoplatonism. An
introductory Study. Cambr. 1952. J. TROUILLARD, La Procession plotinienne. Paris
1955. La Purification plotinienne. Paris 1955. H. FISCHER, Die Aktualitat Pl.s.
Munich 1956. K. H. VOLKMANN-SCHLUCK, PI. als Interpret der Ontologie Platons.
ond unalt. ed. Frankf. a.M. 1957. W. HIMMERICH, Eudaimonia. Die Lehre des Pl.
von der Selbstverwirklichung des Menschen. Forsch. z. neueren Philos. und ihrer
Gesch. N.F.13, Wiirzburg 1959. Sources de Plotin. Dix exposés et discussions par
A. H. ARMSTRONG, P. V. CILENTO, E. R. DODDS, H. DORRIE, P. HADOT, R. HARDER,
P. P. HENRY, H. CH. PUECH, H. R. SCHWYZER, W. THEILER. Entretiens sur lant.
887
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

class. 5 Fondation Hardt. Vandceuvres-Geneva 1960. 8. BREHIER, La philosophie

de Pl. 2nd ed., Paris 1961; in Engl. transl. by J. THOMAS, Chicago 1958. ¢.
RUTTEN, Les Catégories du monde sensible dans les Ennéades de Pl. Bibl. de la Fac.
de Phil. et Lettr. de Liége 160. 1961. — Porphyry: The editions of the individual
writings in R. BEUTLER, RE 22, 1953, 278 ff. W. THEILER, P. und Augustin. Halle
1933. (Schr. d. Kénigsb. Gel. Ges. 10/1.) On this question also Pp. COURCELLE,
Recherches sur les Confessions de S. Aug. Paris 1950. J. J. O'MEARA, Porphyry’s
Philosophy from oracles in Aug. Paris 1959 attempts to prove through Augustine
that Porphyry’s [epi tis exAoyiwy fidocopias and De regressu animae in Civ.
Dei to, 29 and 32 are the same work which had great influence on Augustin;
doubted by H. DORRIE, Grom. 32, 1960, 320. Further on Porphyry: J. TRICOT,
Porphyre, Isagoge. Transl. and notes. Paris 1947. H. DORRIE, Porphyrios’ * Sym-
mikta Zetemata’. Zet. 20. Munich 1959 (with a reconstruction of the Symm. Zet.
mainly from Nemesius and Priscian). — Iamblichus: r. DEUBNER, De Vita
Pythagorica. Leipz. 1937. The older editions of the remaining writings in
Christ-Schmidt, Gesch. d. gr. Lit. Il/2, 6th ed. Munich 1924, 1054. On the
Protrepticus W. JAEGER, Aristoteles. 2nd ed. Berl. 1955, 60. Important for the
tradition the works of M. sICHERL, Die Handschriften, Ausgaben und Ubersetzungen
von J. de mysteriis, Berlin 1957 (Texte u. Untersuchungen zur Gesch. d. alt-
christ]. Lit. 62); “Bericht iiber den stand der krit. Ausgabe von J. de mysteriis’.
Arch. f. Gesch. d. Philos. 42, 1960, H. 3; “Ein iibersehener Jambl.-Codex
(Matrit. O 46)’. Emérita 28, 1960, 87. — Salustius: a. D. NOCK, Cambr. 1926
(with important introd. and comm.). G. ROCHEFORT, S. des Dieux et du monde.
Coll. des Un. de Fr. 1960 (bilingual). Transl. also in Gc. MURRAY, Five Stages of
Gr. Rel. 3rd ed. Boston n.d., 200. — Proclus: The editions of the individual
writings in R. BEUTLER’s comprehensive RE article, 23, 1957, 185. L. G. WESTER-
INK, Proclus Diadochus. Comm. on the First Alcibiades of Plato. Crit. Text and
indices. Amsterdam 1954. E. TUROLLA, Pr. La teologia Platonica. Bari 1958.
H. BOESE, Die mittelalterliche Ubersetzung der orovyelwous duorer, des Proclus.
Berlin 1958. Id. Procli Diadochi tria opuscula (De providentia, libertate, malo).
Latine Guil. de Moerbeca vertente et Graece ex Isacii Sebastocratoris aliorumque
scriptis collecta. Quellen u. Studien z. Gesch. d. Philos. 1. Berlin 1960. P. LEVEQUE,
Aurea catena Homeri. Une étude sur Pallégorie grecque. Paris 1959 (important for
Proclus). TH. WHITTAKER, The Neo-Platonists. A Study in the History of Hellenism.
With a Suppl. on the Comm. of Proclus. 1928. Repr. 1961 Olms/Hildesheim.
v. COUSIN, Procli Diad. comm. in Platonis Parmenidem reprinted after the 2nd ed.
Paris 1864 in Hildesheim 1961. Minerva G.m.b.H. Frankf. a.M. is preparing a
repr. of the ed. of In Platonis Theologiam of az. PoRTUs, Hamburg 1618. Ibid.
since 1962 reprints of v. CouSIN, Procli philosophi Platonici opera inedita (after the
and ed. of 1864) and a.-E. CHAIGNET, Pr. Comm. sur le Parménide. 3 vols. (rst
impr. Paris 1900-03).

7 TRE SS'CIRENCES
The élan of scientific research, which was especially distinctive of the early
Hellenistic period, was succeeded, during the empire, by a broadening of scope
888
 THE EMPIRE

which necessarily involved a decrease in depth. It also becomes quite clear in this
sphere to what extent Greek culture in this epoch should be viewed in its
relationship with Rome. Pure theory did not find a fertile soil there. For the
rulers of the world, astronomy was meaningful if it helped to establish a service-
able calendar, natural science, if it improved agriculture, geometry, if it helped
in surveying the provinces and the making of maps. Greek science had other
aims and a few men had not lost sight of them even in this time, but they were
exceptional.
Many were absorbed with grammar. As a curiosity, mention should be made
of the erudite collector Pamphila; during Nero’s reign this lady wrote thirty-
three books of Miscellaneous Historical Notes. We reviewed the literary impor-
tance of the lexicographers’ activity in connection with Atticism (p. 832).
Herennius Philon of Byblos, whom we met in another context (p. 95) as the
rehabilitated author of the Phoenician History, should be mentioned here. He also
wrote on history and grammar. There is little doubt that he produced the
matrix of the lexicon of synonyms! which was attributed to Ammonius. He was
the Alexandrian grammarian (and also a priest of the monkey-god) who went
to Constantinople with Helladius after the destruction of the pagan temple.
The second century brought also a late flourishing of the study of grammar.
Apollonius Dyscolus, who worked mainly in his native city of Alexandria,
dealt with the parts of speech in a large number of writings, which are quoted
by Suidas and by himself. Of these smaller works we only have three, but we
also have the four books of his Syntax (Ilepit ovvtd&ews), in which he is the
first to give a systematic summary of this material. He did not blaze new trails;
he always takes his starting-point from the parts of speech and proves to be, as
befits a true dyscolus, a pedantic analogist. In another field of grammar his son
and pupil Herodian also carried out synoptical work. His General Prosody
(Ka@odAtK7 tpoowdia) was written in Rome under Marcus Aurelius, to whom
it was dedicated. The numerous individual writings are lost but for one on
formal anomalies (Ilepi povijpous A€€ews) and one small, probably spurious,
Atticist lexicon Philhetaerus.2 A third systematist did comparable work in the
field of metre. Hephaestion wrote his large work Ilepi étpwv (48 books)
in the Alexandrian tradition, and he himself undertook the work of excerpting
it, a labour normally left to posterity. The final result, the product of various
stages of work, is the Little Manual (’Eyyepidiov), which has been preserved.
In the theory of music the standard activity is also one of summarizing and
excerpting. An Introduction to Harmonics (Etoaywy7 dppovexn)> is preserved; as
its authors, the mathematicians Euclid and Pappus, and also a certain Cleonides,
are mentioned. The unimportant name is probably the correct one. The treatise
! KL. NICKAU, Das sogenannte Ammonioslexikon. Vorarbeiten zu einer kritischen Textausgabe.
Diss. Hamburg 1959 (typesc.).
2 4. DAIN, Le ‘Philétaeros’ attribué a Hérodien. Paris 1954.
3 The text, with a Latin translation, was published in the 8th vol. of the Euclid edition by
J. L. HEIBERG and H. MENGE, Leipz. 1916, 185 after Cc. JAN’s edition in the Musici Scriptores
Graeci 1895, 179. An analysis in M. FUHRMANN, Das systematische Lehrbuch, Gottingen
1960, 34.
889
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

gives rigid and conventional outlines of doctrines which are basically derived
from Aristoxenus of Tarentum. A Leiden Aristoxenus codex reveals a manual
of a larger size probably written between Aristoxenus and the Introduction. Its
date is difficult to fix; the early second century is mere conjecture.
In the sphere of geography the descriptive historical and the mathematical
branches proceeded along ways which led to their final degeneration. We
already met Strabo of Amasea in the district of Pontus (c. 64 B.C.-19 A.D.)
as a historian (p. 777). His large historical work is lost, but the seventeen books
of his Geographica survive, although parts are missing. The first two books, in
which he takes issue with predecessors like Eratosthenes, Polybius and Posidonius
over the mathematical elements, reveal that this field was not his forte. The very
fact that, under the influence of the Stoa, he considered Homer as a source, made
it impossible for him to acquire a deeper understanding. The far lengthier parts
about Europe (3-10), Asia (t1-16) and Africa (17) are supported only toa limited
degree by personal experience, although he travelled far. He is mostly dependent
on his sources among whom, apart from the authors mentioned, Artemidorus
of Ephesus (11 books of Geographumena in 100 B.C.) is especially singled out.
Strabo writes simply, without an emphatically Atticist tendency. He is not
important in any way, but we must be grateful for the survival of this geography
with its wealth of historical data and variety of excursuses.
In the realm of descriptive geography we have already discussed Dionysius
the Periegete (p. 813) and Arrian (p. 847); we add here the Anaplus Bospori of
Dionysius of Byzantium, who probably still wrote in the second century. The
treatise pretends to be literary art; its author tries to deploy all the artifices of
Atticist rhetoric.
In this province antiquity also ekes out its final epoch with compilations, of
which Marcianus of Heraclea on the Pontus (400)! has left some samples. The
great lexicon of Stephanus of Byzantium, the Ethnica, of which we possess a few
articles in the original and a great deal in excerpts, was probably written in the
sixth century, or perhaps earlier.
The work produced by Ptolemy of Ptolemais in Upper Egypt (c. 100 to
170) in the field of applied mathematics can also be characterized as a synopsis
resulting in considerable losses. But it should in all fairness be admitted that in
this case intellectual penetration of the difficult material was demanded to a
greater extent than elsewhere. Ptolemy, who lived in Alexandria, administered
the great legacy of the Museum with propriety and reflected on the philosophical
foundations of what he did. The small epistemological treatise Hep xpetypiov
Kal ayepnovixod shows that he followed the Peripatetic tradition, which he
mixed with Platonic and Stoical elements. Relatively early — the astronomical
observations quoted occurred in 127-147 — he wrote the work which comprises
our knowledge of ancient astronomy, the Ma@npatict ovragis. The current
name of Almagest originated from the Arabic translation (oth c.), which in turn
' On the remnants of his epitome of Artemidorus of Ephesus and his descriptions of
Coasts: R. GUNGERICH, Die Kiistenbeschreibung in der ant. Lit. Miinster 1950, 22. The texts
Geogr. Gr. min. 1, $15.
890
 THE EMPIRE

has its origin in a version of the title weydorn avvraégis (or something like it). It
presents the geocentric conception of the universe after Hipparchus and others.
Aristarchus of Samos was destined not to gain acceptance again until Copernicus
formulated his conception. The Tetrabiblus (Ma@nuartuxn or "Amoreeopare)
ovvtagis TeTpaByBAos) may be considered as an astrological appendix to the great
work. Of his astronomical charts a Canon of Kings (Kavev Baov\evdv) is pre-
served because it had been inserted in the chronicle of the Byzantine Georgius
Syncellus. The Geographical Primer (Vewypaduxr ddajynots, 8 books), which
tried to meet a demand which had existed since Hipparchus, is no less important
than the astronomical work. Ptolemy gives references for about 8000 places
according to longitude and latitude as a basis for the production of maps, but
only a small part of the data is based on exact observation. Ptolemy borrowed a
great deal from his predecessor Marinus of Tyre and much of his work rests on
doubtful data and conjectures. Ptolemy did valuable intermediary work in his
Harmonics (3 books) and Optics. Of the latter we have only books 2-5 in a Latin
translation, which in turn has its origin in one in Arabic. We have only some
fragments, Latin or Arabic translations of minor astronomical works, a weather
almanac, a work on the movements of the planets, one on a sundial and about a
planisphere.
Cleomedes, whose date is difficult, may have been a somewhat younger con-
temporary of Ptolemy. His Encyclopaedia of the Celestial Bodies (KuxAuxy
fewpia jceTewpwv)' was a textbook and as such had an influence deep into the
Middle Ages. It is important to us because the author, who has Stoic tendencies
and is hostile to the Epicureans, is often dependent on Posidonius and is therefore
one of the most important sources for him.
Astronomy’s illegitimate sister, so exuberant in her degeneration, continued
her career under the empire with an élan which the sources hint at rather than
reveal. Paulus Alexandrinus, an Egyptian who resided in Alexandria and had
acquired a broad Greek education, wrote in the second half of the fourth
century an introduction to astrology which was probably entitled Eicaywyuxd.?
Large parts survive. This pseudo-scientific mixture reveals both ancient tradition
and new doctrines, Ptolemy's among them.
Among the mathematicians Menelaus still belongs largely to the Hellenistic
tradition. We can estimate his achievements in spherical trigonometry through
an Arabic translation,? which in turn formed the basis for Latin and Hebrew
ones. For a long time Greek mathematics was dominated by geometry. For this
reason Nicomachus of Arabian Gerasa, who wrote c. A.D. 100, occupies a
special position in the history of this discipline, even though he was not a
scholar of independent status. But he is the first to our knowledge to have given
a coherent account of arithmetic. Himself a Neopythagorean, he summarized in
t Edition by H. ZIEGLER, Leipz. 1891. On the connection with Posidonius A. REHM, RE
IT, 192%, 083.
2 Edition by £. BOER, Elementa apotelesmatica. Interpretationes astronomicas add. 0. NEUGE-
BAUER. Leipz. 1958.
3 M. KRAUSE, Die Sphdrik von Menelaos aus Alexandrien in der Verbesserung von Abii Nasr
Mansur b. ‘Ali b. ‘Iraq, Berlin 1936.
891
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

his Introduction to Arithmetic (Etcaywy dpiOpntixy)! the knowledge which

Pythagoreanism hadacquired in thisfield. Apuleius of Madauraand later Boethius
translated the textbook into Latin. His numerical mysticism (QeoAoyovpeva Tis
dpiOuntuehs) is preserved in fragments only, interspersed with other tractates.
Owing to the original transmission we are familiar with Diophantus of
Alexandria (thirdcentury), of whose main work, the Arithmetica (thirteen books),
we possess the first six books; there is also a minor treatise On the Number of
Polygons. The Arithmetica, a systematically arranged collection of problems, is
important because hardly anything is known of any predecessors in the Greek
world of the algebraical problems dealt with here. The two Alexandrians
Pappus (probably under Diocletian) and Theon (v. p. 884) both wrote com-
mentaries on the Almagest.3 Eutocius, born about 480,4 who commented on
Archimedes and Apollonius, also belongs in this series. Of Serenus (fourth
century) we have two treatises on conic and cylinder sections, of Domninus (fifth
century) an introduction to arithmetic which reverts back to Euclid.
It was stated earlier (p. 793) that the dating of Hero, the mechanical engineer,
is a problem, but that he may have to be considered as having lived under the
empire. The achievements of technology were also important for warfare at
that time. The Hellenistic literature on the techniques of siege warfare was
carried on during the empire. Apollodorus of Damascus, Trajan’s successful
architect, dedicated his PoliorceticaS’ to the emperor Hadrian. Anthemius of
Tralles, the mechanical engineer and architect, lived near the end of our period.
From $32 until his death in the year 534 he collaborated with Isidorus of Miletus
on the reconstruction of Hagia Sophia. We possess a fragment of his work on
concave mirrors.°
Under the empire the science of medicine developed more independently
than the other branches of learning, although in this realm, too, the achievements
of the past were still decisive. There is much uncertainty about the details, but
the following line can be traced regarding the Methodists, whose school
advanced vigorously against the empiricists and dogmatists in the early first
century A.D.7 Asclepiades of Prusa in Bithynia, who came to Rome in 91 B.C, at
the latest, built up his theory ona solid atomism, in the sharpest possible contrast
with the doctrine of humours of the Hippocratic school. His pupil Themison of
Laodicea deviated from his teacher (probably even before 23 8.c.)8 to the extent
t Edition: R. HOCHE, Leipz. 1866. Transl. of the 6 introd. chapters: M. SIMON, Festschr.
M. Cantor 1909. Engl. transl.: M. L. D;OOGE. New York 1926.
2 In the old editions of the two writings by Ast 1817.
3 Pappus’ Lwaywyy: F. HULTSCH, Leipz. 1876-78 (with a Latin transl.). French transl.
with introd. and notes by Pp. VER EECKE, Bruges 1933, repr. Paris 1959. Theon: N. THALMA,
Paris 1821 (with transl.).
* Bibl. on Eutocius, Serenus and Domninus in REHM-VOGEL (v. inf. on Galen), 71.
5 R. SCHNEIDER, Abh. Gott. Ges. Phil.-hist. Kl. N.F. 10/1. 1908 (with transl.).
® In A. WESTERMANN, Paradoxographi. Brunsv. 1839, 149. G. L. HUXLEY, Anthemius of
Tralles. A Study in Later Greek Geometry. Cambridge 1959.
7 Against Edelstein’s attempt (RE, S 6, 1935, 358, “Methodiker’) to exclude Themison
from their number: K. DErCHGRABER, RE, 5 A, 1934, 1632, “Themison’, and H. DILLER
RE, 6 A, 1936, 168 (‘Thessalos’), 8 Cf. DEICHGRABER (vy. sup.), 1634, 8.
892
 THE EMPIRE

that he made the condition of the walls of the foramina (tension, slackness, a
mixture of the two conditions") the centre of his theory. Thessalus of Tralles in
Lydia, a physician with an alert eye for public success, who worked in Rome
during the reign of Nero, elaborated the therapeutics of the school of the
Methodists and may be considered to have completed the system. In spite of a
certain primitiveness in aetiology and therapy, this school, whose aversion to
anatomy was mentioned before (p. 795), produced one of the greatest physicians
of the empire, Soranus of Ephesus. He was trained in Alexandria and worked
both there and in Rome under Trajan and Hadrian; he entered medical history
as the author of the best ancient study of gynaecology. He presented his material
in the Gynaecea (four books), which survives in Greek, although the tradition
presents great difficulties, and in two books of Tuvaiceta Kar’ emeparyow as
an instruction for midwives in the form of questions which has reached us in a
Latin translation. Caelius Aurelianus has passed on Soranus’ great work? On
Acute and Chronic Diseases (Hept o€€wv Kal ypoviwy may) in the same
language. A Life of Hippocrates from a work on important physicians and a
treatise On Bandages (Ilept emidéopwv), with illustrations, have survived in
Greek.
The background of the school of Methodists is formed by scepticism, which
had been given new life by Aenesidemus (v. p. 875). The school of the Pneu-
matics, which Athenaeus of Attalea founded in Rome in the first century B.c.,3
was strongly stimulated by the Stoa. The role of the pneuma was not an innova-
tion in medical theories as is demonstrated by names like Philistion, Diocles
(v. p. 577) and Erasistratus (v. p. 795). But Athenaeus no longer equated pneuma
with air, but meant by it the warm breath which, in the meaning of the Stoics,
differs from respiration and has its seat in the heart. It is the actual carrier of life;
any change in it is responsible for both physiological and pathological pheno-
mena. The next two generations of students are characterized by the names of
Agathinus and of Archigenes,* who was also important as a surgeon. During this
time there is an increasing trend, over and beyond the conflict of the sects, to
come to a settlement through eclecticism, which largely controls the last stage
of ancient medicine. This becomes evident in the case of one of the most
important physicians of the empire, Rufus of Ephesus, who probably still
belongs in the first century a.p. Of his innumerable works many fragments and
some minor writings On the Designation of Parts of the Body, On Diseases of the
Kidneys and the Bladder and Medical Questions have come down to us. In Aretaeus,
a Pneumatic of the second century, the movement towards eclecticism can also

1 Dévos areyvdr, podides, émumenAcypévov. The share in the elaboration of the details of this
doctrine is a point of controversy between Themison and Thessalus. .
2 —, DRABKIN, Cael. Aur. Univ. of Chicago Press n.d. (1950) with Engl. translation.
3 F. KUDLIEN, ‘Poseidonios und die Arzteschule der Pneumatiker’. Herm. 90, 1962, 419
(421), has shown that contrary to the latest dating of WELLMANN (under Claudius), Athe-
naeus should be considered as 100 years earlier.
4 C. BRESCIA, Frammenti medicinali di Archigene. Naples 1955. G. LARIZZA CALABRO,
‘Frammenti inediti di Archigene’. Boll. del Comit. per la prepar. della Ed. Naz. dei class. Gr
e Lat, 9, 1961, 67.
893
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

be recognized. Of him we have two works, of four books each, on the diagnosis
and therapy of acute and chronic diseases. He writes in an Jonic manner and
inserts many Homerisms.!
In this section we have spoken of summaries which involved losses in some
spheres; this formula is not applicable to the most successful physician of
antiquity. Galen, the eclectic, has indeed produced compilations in great volume,
but he has really revised, tested critically and elaborated in many points what he
took over. He was born in Pergamum, the city of the worship of Aclepius, in
29 (1302). While he was still in his native country he heard philosophers of
various schools, but turned to medicine before setting out on extensive educa-
tional travels through Asia Minor, Greece and even Alexandria. These gave him
a knowledge of different trends and teachers. In 157 he became the gladiators’
physician in his native city, but after four years went to the capital, which alone
could promise a great career. Once more after some years (166) he returned to
Pergamum from Rome despite his successes, probably fleeing from the plague
which at the time afflicted Italy. But Marcus Aurelius was not prepared to give
up the physician who was then already famous; Galen was to accompany the
emperor on the expedition against the Marcomanni. He managed, however, to
achieve something which attracted him more than life in the field, he was
appointed medical attendant of the crown-prince Commodus. Later Marcus
Aurelius made him his physician-in-ordinary. Information about the last period
of his life is defective. He died a little before 200.
It is hardly possible to review Galen’s literary production. He included his
own bibliography (Ilepi rv (Siwy BiBAwv) among the writings of his old age,
enumerating 153 works in 504 books. But he is not complete, for much that
survives is not included. Of his work we possess complete or in large parts 150
writings; some are also extant in Latin and Arabic translations. In the work just
mentioned Galen himself proposes an arrangement of his works. One group
comprises philosophy, in which he also reveals himself as an eclectic who only
rejects Epicurus and Scepticism. His firm principle is proclaimed by the title of
one writing: “O71 6 dpiatos tatpos Kat drAdcogos. His Protrepticus to the Art of
Medicine and the great dogmatic work (Ilepi tv ‘Imzoxpatous Kal HAdtwvos
doypdrwy, nine books) reveal the physician who also aims to be a philosopher
and so he wrote about logic and epistemology as well. Of the grammatical and
rhetorical writings we know little more than the titles, excepting the first books
of the work On Medical Names, which we possess in an Arabic translation from
an intermediate version in Syriac.* The catalogue of works reveals his extensive
occupation with the vocabulary of the Attic prose authors and of comedy.
There was also a work Noteworthy Attic Words. In the treatise on the order in
It is very doubtful if we may agree with c. J. RuIJGH, L’Elément achéen dans la langue
épique. Assen 1957, 85, whether this can be explained from a tradition which goes back to
the old didactic poems. F. KUDLIEN is preparing a monograph on Aretaeus; to him we also
owe the chronology (by mail): ‘A. belongs precisely in the middle of the tst century A.D.’
(Contemporary of Dioscorides and Nero’s physician-in-ordinary Andromachus.)
2M. MEYERHOF and J. SCHACHT in Abh, Preuss. Akad. Phil.-hist. Kl. 193 1/3. Also x
DEICHGRABER, Sitzb. D. Akad. Klassef.Sprachen, Lit. u. Kunst 1956/2, 4. :
804
 THE EMPIRE

which his works are to be read (Ilept ris td€ews r&v iSiwv BiBAwy mpds
Evyevvavov), however, Galen himself states what can be inferred from his style;
he has no wish to be a scrupulous Atticist, his overriding principle is clarity of
expression (cad7jvera).! The fact that he tries to effect this by means of im-
moderate expansiveness does not make it a pleasure to read his work.
Galen’s medical writings cover in their gigantic proportions practically all the
specialist fields existing at the time. For him the basis is faith in Hippocrates,
which implies the importance of the theory of humours. But with this he com-
bined ideas of other systems, excluding not even the Methodists, whom he
opposes most vehemently. His writings are copiously interlaced with polemic,
for throughout his life he remained aggressive, complacent and vainglorious ad
nauseam. And yet it would appear that a picture of Galen, supported by a
thorough interpretation (for which not much more than the beginning is
available) will also reveal other features, features of a man who was genuinely
concerned with imparting knowledge and giving an account of his life. Recently
the autobiographical information of Galen in his work On the Diagnosis of
Different Pulses (Ilept dvayvebcews odvypdv) has been utilized by K. Deich-
graber? in a way which enriches and widens the image of the man in the direc-
tion indicated.
Next follow the compilers of medical literature, of whom one must be
singled out because of the purity of his work and his importance as an inter-
mediary, Oribasius, Julian’s physician-in-ordinary, of whose tremendous com-
pilations, the *Iatpixai cvvaywyai in seventy books, twenty-three have been
preserved, in addition to excerpts from others. We have also an abbreviated
edition of the great work in nine books (Lvvoyus mpos Edoraftov tov vidv) and
four books Euporista, a sort of domestic pharmacopoeia.
We have yet to mention the most important pharmacological book which
we possess from antiquity, Pedanius Dioscurides’ Pharmacology (Ilepi tAns
iatpuxijs, five books; 6 and 7 are later appendices). It was written in the second
half of the first century A.D., its author being approximately contemporary with
Pliny the Elder. His lengthy travels enriched his botanical knowledge, which he
displays in the description of the curative properties of some six hundred plants.
His medical interest, however, always overshadows the botanical. With Dio-
scurides a special treasure of the tradition appears at the end of our history.
Manuscripts, foremost of which Vindobonensis Med. Gr. 1, have preserved
diagrams which eventually can be traced back to Cratevas, the pharmacological
counsellor of Mithridates VI Eupator.
' The opening of book 2 of epi duapopas odvypav (8,567 K.) is important for Galen’s
tolerant notion combined with a high esteem for the Greek language. Cf. DEICHGRABER
(v. sup.), 26.
2 Sitzb. D. Akad. Klassef.Sprachen, Lit. u. Kunst 1956/3.
3 The invaluable codex, written for the Byzantine imperial princess Anicia Juliana, 1s at
present being preserved against impending ruin by specialized methods of preservation.

895
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

For general bibl. we refer to pp. 222 and 796. — Apollonius Dyscolus: R.
SCHNEIDER and G. UHLIG, 3 vols. Leipz. 1878-1910. P. MAAS, A. D. de pronomini-
bus. Pars generalis. Bonn 1911 (KI. Texte). A. THIERFELDER, Beitr. z. Kritik u.
Erkl. des A. D. Abh. Sachs. Akad. Phil.-hist. Kl. 43/2, 1935. — Herodian: A. LENTZ,
2 vols. Leipz. 1867-70. In opposition to his reconstructions R. REITZENSTEIN,
Gnom. s, 1929, 243. The Philhetaerus only in J. PIERSON in the appendix of his
edition of Moeris 1750. — Hephacstion: M. CONSBRUCH, Leipz. 1906. — Strabo:
The edition of the Vatican palimpsest is important for the tradition: w. ALY,
De Strabonis codice rescripto. Vatican 1956, with an appendix on the more
important manuscripts by F. SBORDONE. W. ALY, ‘Zum neuen Strabon-Text’.
Parola del passato 5, 1950, 228. Editions: A. MEINEKE, 3 vols. Leipz. 1851/52.
G. KRAMER, 3 vols. Berl. 1844-52 (with app. crit.). Cc. MULLER, Paris 1858. With
Engl. translation: H. L. JONES-J. R. S. STERRET, 8 vols. Loeb Class. Libr. 1917-32
(repeatedly repr.). A. SCHULTEN, Estrabén. Geografia de Iberia. Ed. transl. and
comm. Barcelona 1952 (Fontes Hispaniae antiquae—6). w. ALy, Strabon
von Amaseia. Geographika. Text, transl. and comm. Vol. 4, Unters. iiber Text,
Aufbau und Quellen der Geographika. Bonn 1957. (Antiquitas R. 1/5). Critical of
this A. DILLER, Gnom. 30, 1958, 530; W. HERING, DLZ, 80, 1959. — Dionysius of
Byzantium: R. GUNGERICH, Berl. 1927 (2nd unalt. ed. 1958; excellent critical
ed.). — Stephanus of Byzantium: A. MEINEKE, Berl. 1849, repr. Graz 1956. -
Ptolemy: Teubner edition: I: J. L. HEIBERG, Almagest 1898; II: Id., Kleinere
astron. Schriften 1907; III/1: F. BOLL-A. B. BOER, Tetrabiblos 1940; III /2: F. LAM-
MERT, Ilepi xper. 1952, 2nd ed. with indices 1960. Almagest in Germ. with notes:
K. MANITIUS, 2 vols. Leipz. 1912/13. Tetrabiblos with Manetho: w. G. WADDELL
and F. E. ROBBINS, Loeb Class. Libr. 1940 (with Engl. transl.). Harmonics:
I. DURING, Géteborg 1930 (with comm.). Optics: G. Govi, Turin 1885. A.
LEJEUNE, L’Optique de Claude Ptolémée dans la version latine d’aprés Iarabe d’émir
Eugene de Sicile. Louvain 1956. Geographica: F. A. NOBBE, 3 vols. Leipz. 1843-45.
C. MULLER-K. FISCHER, Paris 1883/1901 only goes up to book s. A serviceable
collective edition is lacking, but the partial editing of several western countries
by 0. cuntz, Die Geographie des Pt. Berl. 1923, is all the more important.
E. POLASCHEK, ‘Ptolemy's Geography in a New Light’. Imago Mundi 14, 19509,
17. - Diophantus: P. TANNERY, 2 vols. Leipz. 1893/95. French transl. with introd.
and notes by Pp. VER EECKE, Bruges 1926, repr. Paris 1959. T. L. HEATH, D. of
Alexandria. 1885; 2nd ed. 1910.
For medicine in this time we refer particularly to p. DIEPGEN, Gesch. d.
Medizin 1, Berl. 1949. Very useful for the separate editions, in so far as they have
appeared in the Corpus Medicorum Graec., is the convenient survey given by
K. DEICHGRABER, D. Akad. d. Wissens., Schriften der Sektion f. Altertumswiss.
Heft 8, Berl. 1957, 116. Only a limited selection of other editions and papers will
be mentioned here. — Soranus: definitive CMG 4. — Rufus: Cc. DAREMBERG-
C. BE. RUELLE, Paris 1879 (with fragments). H. GARTNER, Rufus von Eph. Die
Fragen des Arztes an den Kranken (larpuxa. épwrrjpara). Diss. Géttingen 1960;
now CMG 1962. G. KOWALSKI, Ruft Ephesii De corporis humani appellationibus
(Ovopactar TOv Tob avOpurov pepiwv) Diss. Géttingen 1960 (Edition with
896
 THE EMPIRE

verbal index). — For the Pneumatic school M. WELLMANN, Die pneum. Schule.
Philol. Unters. 14, Berl. 1895, is still indispensable. — Aretaeus: CMG, 2 (now
2nd ed. 1958). — Galen: A serviceable collective edition is lacking; c. G. KUHN,
20 vols. Leipz. 1821-33 is inadequate. Several works in CMG, 5 (v. supra,
Deichgraber), also: F. prarr, Gal. Kommentare zu den Epidemien des Hippokrates.
Indices der aus dem arabischen tibersetzten Namen u. Worter. CMG 5/10, 2, 4, Berl.
1960 with an edition of Galen’s Ilepi zpoom. by K. DEICHGRABER and F. KUD-
LIEN. Other special editions in A.REHM-K.voGEL, Exakte Wissenschaften.
GERCKE-NORDEN, Ein. 2/5. 4th ed. Leipz. 1933, 77. Cf. A. J. BROCK, Ilept duar-
K@v Suvapewv. Loeb Class. Libr. 1952 (with Engl. transl.). Important for the
Arabic tradition: R. WALZER’s edition of the writing On Seven-months’ Babies.
Rivista di Studi Orientali 15, Rome 1935, 323. Id., Galen, On Medical Experience.
First Edition of the Arabic Version with English Translation and Notes. London 1944;
Galen on Jews and Christians. Oxf. 1949. CH. SINGER, Galen. De anatomicis
administrationibus. Transl. with introd. and notes. Wellcome Hist. Med. Mus. Publ.
7, Lond. 1956. &. CoTURRI, Galenus de theriaca ad Pisonem, Latin text, transl.,
introd. Florence 1959. J. EHLERT, Galeni de purgantium medicamentorum facultate.
Tradition and edition. Diss. Gdttingen 1960 (typescr.). F. KUDLIEN, Die handschr.
Uberlieferung des Galenkommentars zu Hippokrates De articulis. Berlin 1960 (D.
Akad. d. Wiss. Berl. Schriften der Sektion f. Altertumswiss. 27). J. WILLE, Die
Schrift Galens Uept tGv év rats vdcous Kaupav und ihre Uberlieferung. Diss. Kiel
1960. J. KOLLESCH, Galen iiber das Riechorgan. Text, transl., comm. Diss. Halle
1961. Two more enquiries deserve to be singled out: A. wirsTRAND, Eikota
VII: Weiteres zu den Hippokrateskommentaren des Galenos. Lund. 1958. 0. TEMKIN,
‘A Galenic Model for Quantitative Physiological Reasoning?’ Bull. Hist. Med.
35, 1961, 470. Introductory: J. MEWALDT, RE, 7, 1910, 578. G. SARTON, G. of
Pergamon. Univ. of Kansas Press 1954. - Oribasius: CH. DAREMBERG-U. C. BUS-
SEMAKER, Paris 1851-76, repr. Amsterdam 1962 (with transl. and notes).
J. RAEDER, CMG, 6. H. MORLAND, Die lat. Oribasiusiibersetzungen. Symb. Osl.
Suppl. 5, 1932. — Dioscurides: M. WELLMANN, 3 vols. Berl. 1906-14; repr. 1958.

897
 JED s.8
Abaris 158 f. Aeschylus, Epitaph on those fallen at
Academy, v. also Plato 348, 509 f., 538 f., Marathon 188
541 f., 543, 548f., 551, 674, 677, 685 f., — Glaucus Pontius 244, 266
820, 839, 869, 875, 878 — Glaucus Potnieus 244, 266
Achaean dialect 10 — Isthmiastae 266
Achaeus of Erctria 411 = Pars247
Achilles, expounder of Aratus 752 — Lycurgia 264
Achilles Tatius 697, 857, 856 f. — Niobe 265
Achiqar-romanice 155 — Nurses of Dionysus 264
Actors’ interpolations 2, 268, 405 — Oedipus 247
Actors, number of 239 f., 251 f., 274, | — Oresteia (Ag., Choe., Eum.) 127, 152,
421 f., 658, 745 22 2AR fod Sead. DAO, D53a SSas =
Acts, division into 448, 658, 745 f. 204, 2075 2745 255, 208, G00; G2 2ena Ole
Acts of the Martyrs, Alexandrian 801, 372, 370, 384 f., 380, 674
807 — Pentheus 264, 398
Acusilaus of Argos 106, 221 — Persae 231, 244-247, 258, 324
Adamantius, physician 833 — Philoctetes 291
Adonis 85, 140, 181 — Phineus 244
Adrastus, Peripatetic 879 — Phorcides 266
(Aca Ags Tomer 730732 — Polydectes 266
Aeantiades, tragedian 743 — Prometheus Lyomenos 255
Aedesius of Cappadocia 883 — Prometheus Pyrcaeus 244, 255
Aegina 123, 192, 195, 313 — Prometheus Pyrphoros 255 f.
Aelian, v. Claudius — Prometheus Vinctus 244, 253-255
Aelian, tactician 782, 848, 853 — Proteus 256
Aelius Aristides 834, n. 1, 835 f., 871 — Semele 264
Aelius Dionysius of Halicarnassus 832 — Seven against Thebes 135, 232, 244 ,

Aelius Theon 843 247-250, 268, 392

Aeneas of Gaza 873 — Sphinx 247
Aeneas the Tactician 629 — Supplices 243 f., 250-252, 262
Aenesidemus of Cnossos 875, 893 — Xantriae 264
Acolians 9, 130, 311 Aeschylus of Cnidos 790
Aeschines, orator 596, 603 f., 605, 608 f., Aesop, 155 f., 157, 689
872 Aethiopis 23, 82 f.
Aeschines of Sphettus 496, 504, 510 Aétius 875
Aeschylus 125, 230f., 241-271, 274, 279, Agatharchides of Cnidos 777 f.
284, 287) 2071.0 323; 301, 363, 305. Agatharchus of Samos 485
378, 398, 400, 400, 433, 443f., 631, Agathias, epigrammatist 741, 811
740 Agathinus, physician 893
— Achilles-trilogy 265 Agathocles of Cyzicus 624
— Aetnae 244 f., 266 Agathocles, teacher of Pindar 192,
— Ajax-trilogy 264 305 f.
— Bacchae 264 Agathon 353, 363, 403, 411 f., 440, 515,
=— Danatdsiasort. $24, 631, 658
— Dictyulci 265 f., 207, 400 Ages of the World, myth of ror f.
— Egyptians 252 Agon in drama 235, 239, 243, 365, 368,
— Eleusinii 378 371, 374, 378, 383, 385, 392, 401 f., 420 >

898
 INDEX

426, 429 f.,433, 438, 441, 444, 446, 449, Anacreon 108, III, 140, 174-177, 181,
654, 714 183, 358
Agon of Corinna and Pindar 179 Anacreontea 177
Agon of Homer and Hesiod 40, n. 3, 87, Anagnorisis 387 f., 391, 414, 448, 636,
93, 155, 353 859, 868
Albinus, Platonist, 879 Ananius 116
Alcaeus 108, 111, 128, 130-138, 139, Anaxagoras of Clazomenae 2, 164, 213,
141 f., 146, 174, 176, 738 217, 332-334,
335 £., 360, 478, 485, 497,
Alcaeus, comic poet 635 559, 562
Alcaeus of Messene 740 Anaxandrides, comic poet 634 f.
Alcibiades 109, 357, 362, 417, 424, 442, Anaximander of Miletus 163-165, 210,
446-448, $02, $25, 619 ZEO, 220) 325, 333
Alcidamas 353, 356, 568, 591, 704 Anaximander of Miletus the younger 329
Alciphron 645, 868 Anaximenes of Lampsacus $72, 591, 604,
Alcman 108, 126, 148-151, 153, 182, 667 627, 766
Alcmeon of Croton 217 f., 219, $64, 797 Anaximenes of Miletus 162, 164 f., 210,
Alcmeonidae 191 20; 2325334
Alcmeonis, epic poem 84 Andocides 355 f., 592
Alexamenus of Teos 513 Andron of Halicarnassus 628
Alexander Aetolus 412, 743 f., 747 Andronicus of Rhodes 560, 579, 689
Alexander of Aphrodisias 556, 792, 875 Androtion 599 f., 628, 667
Alexander of Ephesus 752, 799 Animal-choruses 235, 418, 421
Alexander the Great 550 f., 553, 587, 605, Animal-fables, v. Fables
610, 624, 627, 632, 642, 644, 670, 694, Anonymus On Comedy 633, 655
736, 817 Anonymus Iamblichi 343, 359
Alexander, historians of 766-768 Anonymus Londiniensis 487, 577
Alexander of Pleuron 702 Anonymus On Melissus 209, 350
Alexander Polyhistor 745, 780, 798, 802 Anonymus On the Sublime 143, 153, 190,
Alexander-romance 627, 670, 767 f. 410, 608, 830
Alexandria 696 f., 720, 738, 771, 784 f., Anonymus Seguerianus 843
788, 791, 799, 807 f., 834 Anouilh 134
Alexandrian scholarship 2, 53, 75, 85, Antagoras, epic poet 736, 760
149 f., 171, 177, 179, 187, 196, 198, 204, Anthemius of Tralles 892
205, 223 f., 224, 268, 274, 299, 327, 339, Anthologia Palatina 709, 724, 741 f., 811,
348, 354, 404, 418, 422, 425, 449, 481, 818
544, 547, 575, 784-788 Anthologia Planudea 709, 741 f.
Alexas 747 Antiatticista 832
Alexis, comic poet 633, 635, 658 Antidorus of Cyme 639
Allegorical interpretation of myths 74, Antigenes 206
209, 329, 675, 803, 876, 883 Antigonus Gonatas 666, 670, 672, 750,
Alphabet, Greek 11 f., 36 ff., 74 760
Alphaeus of Mytilene 762 Antigonus of Carystus 704, 750, 781 f.
Ameipsias, comic poet 433, 439 Antimachus of Colophon 75, 107, 305,
Amelesagoras, Atthidographer 667 416, 637-639,
711, 719, 736, 755
Amelius, Neoplatonist 882 Antimachus of Heliopolis 814
Ammonius of Alexandria 889 Antiochus of Ascalon 677, 686, 880
Ammonius, Neoplatonist 885 Antiochus I of Commagene 699
Ammonius Saccas 881 Antiochus [V Epiphanes 800, 805
Ammonius, writer on cults 668 Antiochus of Syracuse 332
Amphidamas of Chalcis 92 Antipater of Hierapolis 837
Amynus, healer-hero 273 Antipater of Sidon 740
Anacharsis 157, 307 | Antipater of Tarsus 678
899
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Antipater of Thessalonica 810 Ararus, son of Aristophanes 426, 633

Antipater of Tyre 681 Aratus of Sicyon 673, 770
Antiphanes of Berge 629 Aratus of Soloe 690, 722, 750-752, 789,
Antiphanes, comic poet 633, 635 792, 813, 824
Antiphon of Rhamnus 354 f., 592 Arcadia 9
Antiphon, sophist 293, 350, 353-356, 484, Arcado-cyprian 9 f., 62
661 Arcesilaus of Pitane 671, 685, 691, 760,
Antiphon, tragedian 632 785
Antisthenes of Athens 353, 495, 502 f., Archelaus of Macedon 357, 363, 395, 412,
584, 501 457
Antisthenes of Rhodes 690 Archelaus, philosopher 303, 334, 497
Antoninus Liberalis 204, 754 f. Archelaus of Priene 88
Antonius Diogenes 862 Archestratus of Gela 639
Anyte of Tegea 739 Archibius, grammarian 709
Anytus, accuser of Socrates 499, 623 Archigenes, physician 893
Apellicon of Teos $79 Archilochus 89, 110-114, 115 f., 117, 120,
Aphareus, tragic poet 632 (yp, Se Mev, Gh wi TK Iielzf,
Aphrodite 68, 87f., 139 £,, 143, 176, 182, B31 224, A20 £9603 .4730
195, 253, 371 f.,383, 387; 395, 635, 727, Archimedes 484, 791, 793, 797, 892
731 f., 762 Archippus 426
Aphthonius of Antioch 455, 843 Archytas of Tarentum 165, 508, 511, $42,
Apion, grammarian 77, 805, 876 691
Apollo 67 f., 70, 86 £., 107, 109, 129, 136, Arctinus of Miletus 82
155, £$8-£,, 168, £73,178, 10%, 102, 195, Areopagus 262, 305 f., 385, 388, 395, 595
196, 201, 220, 256, 261 f., 277, 286, 290, Aretaeus, physician 893
207, 324, 362, 367, 388, 380 f., 394, 551, Arete, daughter of Aristippus 503
627, 635, 706f., 708, 712 f., 714, 760, Arethas of Caesarea 4, 77
801, 811, 863 Areus Didymus 681, 876
Apollodorus of Alexandria 753 Argonautica, Orphic 705, 812
Apollodorus of Athens [222], 238, 332, Argonauts, legend of 22, 43, 79, 106, 199,
5475 937, 755, 787, [856 f.] 329, 638, 702, 731-733
Apollodorus of Carystus 663 Arion of Methymna 129 f., 152, 225, 305
Apollodorus of Damascus 892 Ariphron of Sicyon 416
Apollodorus of Gela 663 Aristaenetus 144, 713, 734, 763, 868 f.
Apollodorus, musician 192 Aristaeus, mathematician 576
Apollodorus of Pergamum 830, 843 Artistarchus of Samos 544, $60, 680, 697,
Apollonius of Citium 488, 795 792, 795, 891
Apollonius of Perge 699, 791, 792, 892 Aristarchus of Samothrace 74 f., 135 f.,
Apollonius Dyscolus 151, 889 327, 410, 703, 726, 785, 787, 789
Apollonius the Idographer 703, 730, 785 Aristeas (letter to Philocrates) 800
Apollonius, On Athenian Festivals 668 Aristeas of Proconnesus 158, 159, 312
Apollonius Rhodius 151, 696, 703, 711, Aristias 232
717, 723, 728-736, 785, 813 Aristides of Miletus 763
Apollonius Sophistes 76, 150 Aristippus of Cyrene 496, 503, $10, 684
Apollonius of Tyana 815, 837, 880 | Aristobulus, Jewish author 802
Apollonius of Tyre 678 Aristobulus of Cassandrea 767, 848
Appendix Vergiliana 716 _ Aristogiton 599, 609
Appian 846 f. Aristocles of Messana 875
Apsines of Gadara 844 Aristocratic code 123, 169, 191, 200, 338,
Apuleius of Madaura 506 f., 660, 662, 341, 374, $01
763, 892 Ariston of Ceos $47, 553, 687, 689
Arachnomachia 89 | Ariston of Chios 637, 674, 785
goo
 INDEX
Ariston, son of Sophocles 275 690, 704, 765, 779, 784, 794, 798, 823,
Aristonicus 76 875, 880, 883, 885
Aristonous 760 Aristotle, Alexander or On Colonisation
Aristophanes 2, 115, 189, 232, 235, 239, 550, $53
248, 411, 415, 417f., 420, 422, 425-440, — Analytica $49, 557
$06, 525, 631, 633, 635, 823 — Athenian Constitution 499, 567
— Acharnians 234, 284, 426, 427-431, — Barbarian Customs $67
437, 440 f., 636 — Categories 557
— Aeolosicon 425, 448 — Chronology of works $55 ff.
— Amphiaraus 426, 438 — Collection of rhetorical textbooks
— Anagyrus 423 a7
— Babylonians 426, 431 — Constitutions 567
— Birds 160, 426, 430 f., 438 f., 484, 497 — De Interpretatione 557
— Clouds 239, 421, 423, 426, 430, 432- — Diaereses 558, n. 1
435, 441, 444, 447, 448, 496 f., 509 — Didascaliae 572, 703
— Cocalus 425 f., 448, 656 — Elegy 549
— Daedalus 427 — Ethics, Eudemian 552, 564 f.
— Daetales 426 f., 435, 447 — Ethics, the Great 564
— Danaids 427 | — Ethics, Nicomachean 501, 549, 564-
— Als ravayos 426 566, 568
— Dramata or Centaur 427 — Eudemus 553 f., 555, 562
— Ecclesiazusae 430, 441, 446 f., 448, 658 — Gryllus, On Rhetoric 555, 572
— Frogs 243, 265, 266 f., 271, 390, 403, — Homeric problems $72
409, 411, 422, 426, 430, 442-445 — Hymn to Hermias $49, 552
— Georgoe 437 | — Menexenus 553
— Gerytades 442 — Metaphysics 334, 500, 523, 541, 556f.,
— Horae 437 558f£., 560 ff., 575
— Knights 418 f., 421, 423, 427 f, 431 f., — Meteorology 573
657 — Olympionicae $72
— Lemniae 427 — On the Gait of Animals 574
— Lysistrata 426, 430, 439-442, 446 — On Generation and Corruption $59,
— Nesoe? 426 560
— Niobus? 426 — On the Generation of Animals 574
— Odomantopresbeis 426 — On the Good 540 f., 556
— Peace 79, 426, 429 f., 431, 436f., 440 — On Heaven 559, $60, 562
— Plutus 237, 415, 425, 430, 438, 447f,, — On Ideas 556
636, 658 — [On Indivisible Lines] 574
— Poiesis? 426 — On Justice 566
— Proagon 426, 435 — On the Movement of Animals 574
— Tagenistae 442 — On the Parts of Animals 500, 574
— Thesmophoriazusae 275, 361, 403, 411, — On Philosophy 555
439 f. — On the Poets 513, 570
— Triphales 442 — On the Rising of the Nile 573
— Wasps 426, 435 f., 441, 657 — On Royalty 566 f.
Aristophanes of Byzantium 74, 135, 196, — On the Soul 553, 562 f., 564, 575
268, 274, 375, 392, 544, 649, 658, 703, — [On the Universe] 574
730, 785, 786 — On Virtues and Vices 564
Aristotle 2, 32, 48, 74, 79 f., 106, 132, 142, — Organon 557 f.
ISI, 162, 163, 205, 208, 228, 235, 242, — Parva Naturalia 563
334, 336, 417, 428, 447, 456, 496, 498 FF, — [Peplus] 575
501, $06, 513, 517, $43, 547-582, 584, — Physics 539, 558 f., 560, 575
591, 627, 632 f., 668 f., 673, 686, 688 f., | — Pleas of Greek cities 567
9o1
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Aristotle, Poetics 223-225, 227, 233 f., Astronomy 222, 334, 542, 544, 559 f,, 562;
236 f., 244, 274, 286, 354, 388, 394, 398, 576, 792 f., 884, 891
409, 412, 414, 416, 421, 514, $52, 559, Astydamas I and II, tragedians 244, 631 fs
569-571, 632, 635, 658, 710, 750, 765 Astydamas III, tragedian 743
— Politics 224, 486, 538, 565 £., 566 £., Ate 98, 124 f., 246 f.
$79, S75 Athanis of Syracuse 628
— Politicus 566 Athena 66 f., 127, 133, 136, 262 f., 276 f.,
— [Problems] 574 279, 379, 383, 389, 414, 445, 499, OIT,
— Protrepticus 553 f., 588 635, 708, 732
— Pythionicae 572, 627 Athenaeus of Attalea 893
— Rhetoric 273,362, 414, 572 1., 5915 Athenaeus, engineer 794
633, 810 Athenaeus of Naucratis 173, 182, 184, 234,
— Sophistes 553 235, 272, 318, 358, 507, 5II, 639, 641,
— Sophistical Refutations 557 645, 703, 744, 747s 754, 759 £., 762, 785,
— Spurious writings 573 815, 833, 854
— Symposium $53 Athenodorus of Tarsus 681
— Theodectea 573 Atlantis 43, 522, 536
— Topics 557 Atomism 335-337
— Victories at Dionysia and Lenaea $72 Atthidographers 331, 628, 665-669, 716
— Zoology 491, 548, 549 £., 573 £., 687 Atticus, Platonist 880
Aristoxenus of Selinus 238 Atticism 3, 149, 426, 450, 659, 695, 825,
Aristoxenus of Tarentum 129, 173, 229, | 830-835, 839, 842, 845, 872, 889, 890
347, 413, 540, 577£., 667, 686, 6g0f., Augustine 555, 677, 790
796, 823, 890 Ausonius 157
Arrian, epic poet 814 | Autolycus of Pitane 576
Arrian of Nicomedea 578, 766, 768, 847- Avienus 219, 752, 813
849, 851, 877, 890 Axionicus, comic poet 635
Arsinoe II 700, 703, 712, 713 £., 717, 719,
722 Babrius 813 f.
Artapanus, Jewish historian 802 Bacchius of Tanagra 488
Artemidorus Capito 492 Bacchylides 108, 149, 185, 188, 189, 194,
Artemidorus of Daldis 842 197, 199, 202-206, 224 f., 291, 385, 410
Artemidorus of Ephesus 786, 793, 890 Balbilla, epigrammatist 811
Artemidorus, grammarian 727 Bards 14-19, 40, 65
Artemis 136, 148, 150, 168, 213, 252, 257, Basil the Great 871
371 £., 388 f., 397, 617, 635, 706, 713 Bathyllus, pantomime 810
Artemisia of Halicarnassus 307 Batrachomyomachia 88, 417
Asclepiades of Myrlea 788 Beggars’ processions 262
Asclepiades of Prusa 892 Berossus 770
Asclepiades of Samos 639, 640, 711, 719, | Besantinus 725
738, 739 f. Bias of Priene 157
Asclepiades of Tragilos 667 | Bible-fragments 4
Asclepiodotus, tactician 782, 848, 853 | Biography 691
Asclepius 273 f., 447, 485, 759, 836, 894 Biologoi 747
Asia Minor 9, 106, 117, 216 f. Bion the Borysthenite 670
Asianism 699, 766, 778, 790, 830, 833, Bion of Smyrna 727
871 Biton, engineer 794
Asides 428, 657 Boethius 892
Asinius Pollio 778, 809 Boeo(s) 754
Asius 106 Boghazkoi 94
Astral religion 535, 538, 555, 751 | Bolus of Mende 340, 781, 798
Astrology 84, 697 f., 751, 867, 891 | Books 1 ff, 5
9o2
 INDEX
Booksellers 2 Catharsis 570 f.
Botany 218 Catullus 143, 639, 714, 716, 726
Bryson of Heraclea 484, 502 | Cebes, author of the Pinax 876
Cebes, Pythagorean 484, 525
Caecilius of Calacte 354, 593, 607, 612, Celsus 879
830 f. Cephisodorus, Isocratean 584
Caelius Aurelianus 893 Cephisodorus of Thebes 628
Caesar 647, 682, 789 Cercidas of Megalopolis 671
Callicles 357, 520 f., 526, 588 Chaereas, historian 711
Callicrates-Menecles 669 Chaeremon, philosopher 876
Callimachus 5, 84, 89, 116, 121, 136, 157, Chaeremon, tragedian 632
638 f., 668, 690, 696, 700-718, 719, 723, Chaerephon 433, 498, 519, 633
725, 727, 729 £., 737 £., 751 £., 753, 758; Chalcidius 536
785, 818, 831 Chalcis 55, 135
— Aetia 700, 703, 708, 710-714, 730, 739, Chaldean oracles 881
754, 869 Chamaeleon 184, 191, 691
— Arsinoe’s Wedding 717 Character-portrayal 287
— Berenice’s Locks 703, 711 f., 713 Charaxus, Sappho’s brother 138
— Elegy to Magas and Berenice 717 Chares of Mytilene 767
— Epigrams 703 f., 709 f. Chares, gnomic poet 640, 646
— Galatea 717 Chariton, novelist 857, 862 f., 864
— Grapheum 717 Charon of Lampsacus 220 f., 318
— Hecale 712, 715 f. Chion of Heraclea 869
— Hymns 704-709, 712, 759 Chionides 237, 418 f.
— lambs 711, 714 Choerilus of Iasos 736
— Ibis 717, 729, 757 Choerilus of Samos 163, 304, 416, 637
— Lyrical poetry 715 Choerilus, tragedian 230, 242, 274
— Pinaces 3, 702 f., 733, 785 Choliambic 116
— Prose-works 703 f. Choral lyric 108, 129 f., 148-153, 175, 178,
— Victory-poem to Sosibius 716 181-206, 228, 302, 349, 413, 416, 658
Callinus of Ephesus 80, 118, 119, 120, Choreutae, number of 250, 274, 419
122, 169 Choricius of Gaza 873
Callippus, Academic 511 Chremonides 672
Callippus of Cyzicus 560 Christodorus of Coptus 818
Callisthenes of Olynthus $50, $72, 627, Chrysippus 396, 674, 676 f., 750, 787
670, 766 f. Chrysoloras 5
Callistratus, chorodidascalus 426, 440 Gisstoy WGHit, wy, Geko), AOl, Buby, BAe, GvVk,
Calydonian boarhunt 22, 79, 152 480 f., 485, 500, 509, 522, $36, 552,
Canon of comic poets 418 554£., 578, 583 £,, 589, 593, 612, 6ar f,,
Canon of lyric poets 108, 179 678 f., 680 f., 682 f., 686, 688, 699, 750,
Canon of orators 592 752, 756, 766, 772, 788f., 797, 829f.,
Canon of tragic poets 410, 411 831, 860
Caramallus, pantomime 810, 868 | Cimmerians 45, 118—
Carcinus of Naupactus 106 Cinaethon 80, 82, 106
Carcinus, tragedian 631 Cinaidologoi 747
Carians 7 Cinesias 415, 439
Carneades of Cyrene 685 | Claudianus, epic poet 814
Cassius Dio Cocceianus 849-851 Claudius Aeclianus 73, 130, 397, 411,
Cassius Longinus 844 853 £., 856, 868
Castor of Rhodes 787, 789 Cleanthes of Assos 674, 752, 760, 792
Castorion of Soloe 759 Clearchus of Soloe 690
Catastasis-doctrine 490 Cleobulus of Lindos 188 f.
903
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Cleodemus (Malchus) 802 Cratylus 507, 521 f.

Cleomedes, astronomer 679, 891 Cremation 55
Cleon of Curion 736 Creophylus 84
Cleonides, writer on music 889 Crete 8, 10 f., 56 f., 109, 128, 458, 568
Cleostratus of Tenedos 751 Crinagoras of Mytilene 741, 810
Clidemus, Atthidographer 628 Critias 110, 112, 117, 175 f., 357£., 411,
Clisthenes of Sicyon 227 417, 498, 506, 508
Clitarchus 624, 766 Croesus 309 f., 313, 323 f.
Clitomachus 685 Crusaders §
Cnidian school of medicine 487 Ctesias of Cnidos 487, 623 f., 625
Cnossos 11 and n. 7 Ctesibius 794
Coelius Antipater 771 Cup of Ischia 12, 89, 172
Colluthus, epic poet 816, 818 Curtius Rufus 768
Colonization, Greek 9, 20 Cycle, epic 79-84, 106, 857
Colotes, Epicurean 683, 685 Cynaethus 86
Comedy, early history of 226, 233-240, Cynics 669-672, 834, 840, 873
655 Cypria 24, n. 2, 73, 80, 81 f., 290, 710
— meaning of word 233 f. Cyprus 9
— Middle 418, 422, 539, 633-637, 646, Cypselus, chest of 82, 172
655, 658 Cyrene 195, 312
— New 387, 390 f., 396, 418, 422, 448 f., Cyril of Alexandria 873
633 f., 636 £., 642-665, 810, 839, 868
— Old 2, 234, 417-452, 633, 635 £., 646, Daemachus of Plataea 626, 771
655, 657, 786 Damascius, Neoplatonist 159, 885 f.
— stock characters of 235 f., 238 f., Damastes of Sigeum 331
422, 636, 660 Damianus of Ephesus 834, n. 1, 837
Communism 447, 529 Damon, writer on music 192, 305 f.
Conon 756 Danais 84
Constantine 809 Dance Is, 107
Constantine Cephalas 709, 741 Dardanus, Stoic 681
Constantine Porphyrogennetus 774, 779, Dares 860
846, 850, 852 Darius I 219, 246 f., 312 f., 325
Contamination 648 Deikeliktai 235
Corax of Syracuse 351 Delphi 67, n. 1, 82, 86, 109 f., 136, 157,
Corinna of Tanagra 178-180 192 f., 195, 197, 201, 247, 256, 261, 285,
Coriscus, Academic 507, 549, 578 314, 324, 375, 389, 447, 498, 519, 549,
Cornelius Gallus 756 627, 820, 822, 867
Cornelius Sisenna 763 Demades 603, 611 f.
Cornutus 876 Demeter 70, 85, I10, 113, 274, 708, 710,
Coroebus 89 715, 759, 847
Cosmopolitanism 677 Demetrius (de eloc.) 147
Cottabus, game 303 Demetrius, Jewish author 802
Crantor of Soloe 535, 760 Demetrius, local historian 332
Craterus of Macedon 668 Demetrius Magnes 609
Crates, Academic 685 Demetrius of Magnesia 484
Crates, author on cults 668 Demetrius of Phalerum 155, 157, 332, 499,
Crates, comic poet 421 609, 644, 660, 667, 668, 686, 689 f., 770 ’

Crates of Mallus 74, 305, 426, 639, 789 784, 800

Crates of Thebes, Cynic 646, 670, 672, 824 Demetrius Poliorcetes 357, 609, 644, 689,
Crateuas 895 762, 768, 868
Cratinus 89, 419-421, 423, 427, 432, 445 Demetrius of Scepsis 780
Cratippus 626 Demochares 551, 611, 669, 769
904
 INDEX
Democracy, v. Social factors Diogenes of Oenoanda 344, 683
Democrates 338 f. Diogenes of Sinope 502, 669 f.
Democritus 74, 213, 335-340, 344, 347, Diogenianus of Heraclea 832
479, 485 £., 503, 535, 681, 683, 703, 758, Dion of Prusa 291, 809, 834 f., 849, 868,
779, 781 876, 884
Demodocus of Leros 170 Dion of Syracuse 507, 509, 510 f., $34,
Demon, Atthidographer 666 553, 869
Demonicus $54, 587, 688 Dionysiades, tragedian 743
Demophilus, comic poet 663 Dionysius I 415, 509 f., 587, 594, 628,
Demophilus, historian 627 632, 744
Demosthenes 359, 379, 455, 547f., 551, Dionysius II 510, 631
596-608, 609 ff., 614 f., 628, 634, 644, Dionysius of Byzantium 890
666, 769, 788, 831, 843, 850, 871 Dionysius Chalcus 303
Demosthenes, epic poet 736 Dionysius, epic poet 816
Dexion, hero 273 Dionysius of Halicarnassus 137, 190, 221,
Dexippus 851 326, 458, 461, 480f,, 547, $83, so2 Ff,
Diaeresis 348, 533 f., 539, 542 596, 599, 602, 609, 611 f., 614, 626, 758,
Diagoras of Melos 344, 414 777, 830, 831, 845
Dialects, Greek 8 ff. Dionysius of Heraclea 674, 750
Dialexes, sophistic 343 Dionysius of Miletus 221, 318
Dialogue (philosophical) 513, 555, 823 Dionysius of Miletus, sophist 834, n. 1
Dialogue (satirical) 840 Dionysius the Periegete 813
Diatribe 670 f., 682, 821, 823, 835 Dionysius of Phaselis 703
Dicaearchus 173, 443, 578, 686, 776 Dionysius of Samos 782
Dictys 860, 862 Dionysius Scytobrachion 778, 782, 860
Didactic poetry 100, 214 Dionysius Thrax 787, 789
Didymus 77, 117, 353, 450, 457, 548, Dionysus 85, 88, 109, III, 113, 123, 132,
604, 786, 788, 832, 854 176, 198, 204, 224, 226 f., 229, 232, 391,
Dieuchidas of Megara 36, 40 398-400, 410, 412, 419, 423, 442-444,
Dike 73, 99, 102 f., 124 f., 126, 164, 211, 611, 736, 760, 786, 812, 816 f.
243, 480, 602, 752, 757 Diophantus of Alexandria 892
Dinarchus of Delos 639 Dioscorides of Alexandria 740, 744
Dinarchus, orator 596, 599, 609 Dioscorus of Aphrodito 819
Dinocrates, architect 697 Dioscuri 137, 187, 198, 385 f., 391, 715,
Dinolochus, comic poet 238 723
Dinon of Colophon 624 Dioscurides 895
Dinostratus, mathematician $43 Diotimus of Adramyttion 736
Dio, v. Cassius Diphilus, comic poet 647, 656, 662 f.,
Diocles of Carystus $77, 893 664, 746
Diocletian 808 f., 815, 816 Diphilus, epic poet 304
Diodorus 84, 327, 335, 627, 679, 699, 766, Dipylon-jug 12, 172
768, 777, 778 £., 781, 845, 851, 861 Dirge 107, 117, 172, 187, 197, 227, 351, 379
Diodorus, Megarian 672 Avocoi Xdyor 347, 365
Diodorus, On Demes 668 Dithyramb 2, 129, 152, 180, 188 f., 192,
Diodotus of Erythrae 766 104, 197 1., 224 f., 226, 233, 250, 291,
Diodotus, Stoic 681 302 f., 305, 349, 353, 385, 403, 410f,,
Diogenes of Apollonia 334, 559 413 f., 415, 633
Diogenes of Babylon 678, 787, 789 Diyllus 628; a younger Diyllus 669, 769
Diogenes Laertius 166, 208, 214, 343 io Dogmatists (medicine) 795, 892
347, 499, 502, 507, 513, 540, 543, 547, Domninus, mathematician 892
552 f., 616, 644, 674, 681, 686, 689, 760, Dorians 8 f., 54, 130, 232, 236 f., 307
855 £., 875 Dorotheus of Sidon 813
905
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Dosiadas of Crete 722, 725 Epithalamia 141 f., 723, 830

Dositheus of Pelusium 750 | Epyllion 640, 715, 726, 744
Double chorus 235, 441 _ Erasistratus of Iulis 577, 720, 795, 893
Draco, musician 306 Erastus, Academic 507, 549
Duris of Samos 625, 762, 764 f., 766, Eratosthenes 42 f., 229, 449, 560, 578, 604,
768 f., 778 793; 729, 730, 752s 755; 725 ff, 792,
848, 890
Ecphantides 419 Erinna of Telos 640 f.
Education 293, 338, 343, 345, 349, 356, Eros 97, 112, 136, 144, 160f., 176 f., 182,
374, 379, 413, 426, 433 f., 435, 494, 506, 253) Al2, 719s 720 '3 7325 TSS e Toes
$22, §27 f., $20, 5379 508>) $839 508 hs 821, 863, 865
621 Erotianus 488
Egypt 56, 220, 311, 318f., 324 Erotic themes 71, 82, 112 f., 137, 143 ff.
Eidyllion, v. Idyll TAO.f,) 153s 100) UIs, 27 ehoee hor.
Eiresione 90, 108 370, 524f., 533, 593, 621, 636, 653£,
Elegy TOS 117-121, 108. 72, 208,274, 709, 723, 739f., 759, 762, 811, 858Ff,
303, 334, 358, 375, 410, 417, 452, 549, 868
700 f., 716 f., 738 Ethics 68-70, 91, 98, 112 f., 123 f., 139,
Eleusis 85, 110, 197, 242, 274, 378, 414, 157, 166, 189, 212, 247, 257 f., 280-282,
n. 3, 808 306, 324 f., 337 ff, soof., 503, 523, 542,
Empedocles of Acragas 213-215, 216, 307, 589, 676f£., 680, 682, 684f., cf. also
350, 491, $21, 577, 750, 752 Righteousness
Empirical school 795, 892 Ethnography 219, 311, 316f., 322 f., 330,
Ennius 396, 640, 781 359, 704, 771, 779
Epaphroditus, grammarian 712 Ethologoi 747
Ephesus 834, n. 1 Ethopoeia 65
Ephialtes 263 Euaeon, tragedian 243
Ephippus, comic poet 634 Eubulus, comic poet 634, 636
Ephippus of Olynthus 767 Euclid of Alexandria 542, 576, 790, 889,
Ephorus of Cyme 318, 626 £., 629, 669, 892
768 £., 775, 778, 851 Euclides of Megara 496, 502, 508
Epicharmus 237-239, 514, 747 Euctemon of Athens 484
Epicichlides 89 Eudemus of Rhodes 564, 576, 686
Epicrates, comic poet $39, n. 2, 634 Eudorus of Alexandria 879
Epictetus 847, 876 ff. Eudoxus of Cnidos 531, 542 f., 548,
Epicurus and Epicureans 335, 645, 681-685, 559 £., 751, 792
821, 840, 855, 872, 875, 879, 891, 894 Eudoxus of Rhodes 769
Epigenes of Sicyon 227 Eugammon of Cyrene 83
Epigoni (epic) 79 ff. Euhemerus of Messene 348, 781
Epigram 172f., 185, 188f., 203, 206, Eumelus of Corinth 106
303 f., 363, 417, 434, 452, 507, 549, 575, Eumenes of Cardia 766
641, 701, 709f, 719 f, 724, 736, 737- | Eunapius of Sardes 851 f., 881
743, 752, 759, 762, 810 £., 814, 818, 855, | Eunomia 126
873 Euphorion of Chalcis 756-758
Epimenides of Crete 159 Euphorion, tragic poet 243
Epinicia 186 f., 192-201, 202-205 Euphronius of Chersonnese 747, 786
Epirrhematic syzygy 235, 251, 429, 432, Euphronius, tragedian 743
443 | Eupolemus, Jewish author 802
Epistolary literature (exc. references listed Eupolis 196, 420, 422-425, 426 f., 429,
separately) 667, 670, 686, 689, 750, 797, 436, 441
842, 854, 868 f£., 871, 873, 885 Euripides 159, 173, 179, 184, 208, 224, 230,
Epistolary novel 767 f. 243, 246, 275 £, 273 f., 275, 283, 280,
906
 INDEX

292f., 298, 303, 344, 358, 360-409, Euripides, Meleager 373

ALEM., 41S, 407, 422) 428f,, “493
£, — Oedipus 393
439£., 443-445, 457, 506, 631, 635 f., — Oenomaus 392
654f., 655 ff., 660, 691, 724, 735, 745, | — Orestes 363, 392 f., 394-395, 403, 416,
789, 809, 858 6324760
Euripides, Aegeus 368 f., 390 — Palamedes 382, 440
— Aeolus 372 — Peleus 372
— Alcestis 363, 364-367, 369, 397, 400, — Peliades 362
402, 657 — Phaéthon 395
— Alcmeon in Corinth 362, 396 — Philoctetes 291, 370
— Alcmeon in Psophis 367 — Phoenissae 294, 372, 390, 392-393, 412
— Alexander 382, 390, 744 — Phoenix 372
— Alope 391, 656 — Phrixus 391
— Althaea 761 — Polyidus 395
— Andromache 374 ff. — Protesilaus 380
— Andromeda 385, 391, 396, 440 — [Rhesus] 274, 363, 631
— Antigone 373, 393 — Sciron 400
— Antiope 390 f. — Scyrians 373
— Archelaus 395 — Stheneboea 372
— Auge 391, 656 | — Suppliant Women 295, 373, 376, 378-
— Bacchae 362 f., 396, 398-400, 402, 404 379
— Bellerophon 361, 436 — Syleus 400
— Busiris 400 — Telephus 298, 367 f., 429
— Cresphontes 390 — Theseus 380
— Chrysippus 372, 392 | — Thyestes 383
— Cretan Women 367 — Trojan Women 117, 363, 380, 382 f,,
— Cretan Men 372 884
— Cyclops 297, 364, 400 f. Euripides the Younger 362, 396
— Danae 391 Euryphon of Cnidos 487
— Dictys 370 Eusebius 95, 131, 745, 802, 820, 875, 882
— Electra 363, 383-386, 394, 404, $02, 864 Eustathius of Thessalonica 1, 77, 89, 196,
— Epinicion 362 813
— Erechtheus 379, 611 Eustochius, Neoplatonist 882
— Funeral epigram 363, 417 Eustratius 89
— Hecabe 373 f., 382, 392, 402 Euthymenes of Massalia 219
— Helen 98, 363, 385-387, 388, 440 Eutocius 791, 892
— Heracles 295, 380-382, 397, 404 Evenus of Paros 357, 417, $91, 750
— Heraclidae 376-377, 379 Exegetae 331
— Hippolytus Calyptomenus 298, 370 Ezechiel 745, 802
— Hippolytus Stephanephorus 363, 369,
370-372, 373, 501 Fables 102, 112, 114, 154-156, 326
— Hypsipyle 390 f. Fairy-tales 13, 41 f., 156, 318, 364, 423,
— Ino 391 861 f.
— Ion 389 f., 390, 396 Fate, belief in 65 f., 99, 263, 323 f.
— Iphigenia in Aulis 362 f., 396-398, 401, Fate, weighing of 23, 26, 30, 66
571 Favorinus of Arelate 499, 834, n. 3, 834,
— Iphigenia in Tauris 387 ff., 402, 809 853
— Ixion 395 | Flute 108 f., 117, 129, 148, 175, 198, 232,
— Medea 298, 363, 368-370, 371, 373, 236, 302, 306, 414, 651 f.
390 Folksong 107 f., 143, 154
— Melanippe (1) deaporis) 391 Folk-tale 41
— Melanippe (7)70¢7)) 391 _ Fronto 846, 877
ny |
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Gaius, Platonist 879 Hegesias, cyclic poet 81

Galen of Pergamum 268, 488, 492, 674, Hegesias, Cyrenaic 503
679, 894-895 Hegesias of Magnesia 699, 766
Gallienus 808 Hegesinus 81
Gassendi 335, 681 Hegesippus of Sunium 604, 611
Gellius 647, 655, 664 Helen 21, 68, 81, 104, 136, 152, 181, 204,
Geminus, astronomer 793 352, 383, 385-387, 388, 394 f,, 419, 586,
Geography 164, 219f., 578, 668f., 680, 715, 723, 759, 816
732 £., 769, 772, 778, 786 £., 789, 792 £., Heliodorus of Emesa 857, 859, 866-867
848, 800 f. Heliodorus, periegete 583, 669
Geography of Greece 7 Helladius of Alexandria 889
Geometric style 8 Helladius of Antinoopolis 813
Geranomachia 89 Hellanicus of Mytilene 330 f, 411, 460 f,,
Germanicus 752 628, 704
Gilgamesh-epic 156 f. Helvius Cinna 716, 756
Glaucippus, orator 611 Hephaestion, prosodist 759, 889
Glaucon, expounder of Homer 329 Heracles 84, 98, 106 f., 113, 153, 178, 181,
Glaucus of Rhegium 231, 331, 358 Olah, OKNity, SLI Helen, PEW, Woe, Aap
Gnomic poetry 137, 186, 199 320, 329 f., 348, 365, 376, 380-381, 391,
Gnosis 881 397, 410, 439, 443, 503, 706, 723, 726,
Goethe 34 f., 42, 71, 177, 198, 264, 282, 7315739; 757
294, 374, 388, 391, 571, 646, 860, 867 Heraclides Criticus 793
Gorgias 5, 209, 248, 343, 347, 350-353, Heraclides of Cyme 628
355, 379, 382, 412, 480, 486, 502, 506, Heraclides Lembos 690
HO, SAD, Kol) Sew, Sites SO, ORS, Wri Heraclides Ponticus 129 f., 158, 229, 413,
699, 764, 830, 833, 835, 837 540, 543 £., 637, 667, 674, 690, 823
Gorgias of Athens 790 Heraclides of Tarentum 795
Gospel acc. to St Mark 4 Heraclitus of Ephesus 2, 113, 167, 210, 211-
Gregory of Nazianzus 811, 871 213, 214, 239, 337, 341, 507, 670, 675,
Grillparzer 140 801
Gyges I10, 309 Heraclitus of Halicarnassus 710, 740
Gyges-tragedy 326, 746 Heraclitus (Homeric allegories) 134, 675,
876
Hadrian 808, 811, 813, 815, 846, 848, 853, Herculaneum v. Library ofH.
876, 892 Herennius, v. Philo of Byblus
Hadrianus of Tyre 834, n. 1 Herillus of Carthage 674
Hagias of Troezen 83 Hermagoras of Temnos 789 f., 843
Halon, hero 273 Hermarchus, Epicurean 685
Hanno 219, 793 Hermeas of Methymna 629
Harpocration 614, 832 Hermes 87, 136, 297, 346, 380, 436 f.,
Hebbel 264, 280 635, 785 f., 814
Hecataeus of Abdera 779, 781 Hermes Trismegistus 698, 880
Hecataeus of Miletus 2, 92, 213, 219, 220 f., Hermesianax 701, 755
Z16£, 328 £.,. 320 1:, 335, 627, 020, 781 Hermias of Atarneus 507, 549, 552
Hecaton, Stoic 677 Hermippus, astronomical poet 751
Hédelin d’Aubignac 34 Hermippus, comic poet 304, 421, 635
Hedyle 740 Hermippus of Smyrna $47, 596, 691
Hedylus of Samos 740 Hermocles of Cyzicus 762
Hegel 279, 281, 340 Hermocrates of Iasus 702
Hegemon of Thasos 417 Hermodorus, mathematician $43
Hegesianax, astronomical poet 751 Hermogenes of Tarsus 353, 591, 843
Hegesianax from the Troad 860 Herodas of Cos 722, 748
908
 INDEX
Herodes Atticus 813, 835, 877 Hipparchus, Pisistratid 36, 73, 175, 184,
Herodian of Alexandria 76, 880 305, 467, 472
Herodian of Syria 851 Hippasus of Metapontum 484
Herodicus of Babylon 497 Hippias of Elis 190, 347, 349 f., 484.
Herodicus of Selymbria 486 Hippias, Pisistratid 472
Herodorus, grammarian 77 Hippo of Samos 334
Herodorus of Heraclea 3209 f., 484, 502, Hippocrates of Chios 484
629 Hippocrates of Cos 316, 340, 485-493,
Herodotus 81 f., 84, 90, 106, 116, 130 f., 673, 754, 758, 893 ff.
B98 ©, orga, 155 f° 198) 164) 184," 186, Hippocratic Corpus 343, 454, 485-493
Ry AAT, Aas. 297. 330, Baz, B7y) 282, Hippodamius of Miletus 307, 447, 527
289, 304, 306-328, 330 f., 332, 335, 338, Hipponax of Ephesus 5, 89, 112, 115 f.,
386, 462, 472-474, 477, 620, 623, 625, 157, 663, 671, 714, 724, 748
691, 746, 762, 823, 845, 848, 856 Hippys of Rhegium 332
Heroes, cult of 227, 294 Historia Apollonii regis Tyrii 864
Heroic poetry, nature of recitation rs f. Historian of Oxyrhynchus 626
— Germanic 19 Historie, meaning of word 218
— improvisation 16 Historiography 218-223, 306-332
— oral composition 18 Hittites 8, 19, 21, 94 f.
— pre-Homeric 13, 14-18 Hofmannsthal 287
— typical elements 17 f. Holderlin 281 f., 288, 294, 342, 571
— v. popular epic Homer 13, 14-79, 80f., 82 f., 84f., 86f.,
Hero of Alexandria 793, 794, 892 88'£, or; 92 f;, 98, TOI, 1O4;/107,. 1XT,
Herophilus of Chalcedon 795 LA LO a2OmraOMZO Niss wIsOmnAas
Hesiod 42, 80, 84, 91-106, 107, 112, I14, 152 te 15AN 5 ON 73 1SOn 203. 20S4e Be
122, 124, 126, 138, 154, 159 f., 161, 164, ZUG. ZAGe2AO, 250, 202,33 23 to 20:
190, 201, 208, 211, 213, 324, 459, 480, 329 f., 339, 343, 350, 392, 459, 470f.,
$91, 705, 712, 736, 750, 752, 753, 755, 472, 473.0, 478, 519,530 ssOn 572 t.
789, 815, 823 £., 885 638, 660, 673, 676f., 689, 705, 710,
— analysis of form 99 PiO, F731, e733 ee 190), G7SU, MISS ATS,
— Aspis 104 788 f., 817, 823, 831, 835, 857, 859, 885,
— catalogue-poetry 103 f., 638 890
— Ehoeae 103 f. — Aeolisms 60-61
— Erga 92, 94, 100-103, 113, I15, 124, — Analytical school 33-37, 39, 49-53
126, 346, 348, 750 — archaizing tendency 54
— spurious works 105 — biographical 4o, n. 3, 40 f.
— Theogony 92, 93-100, IoI, 190 — Catalogue of Ships 24, 40
Hesychius of Alexandria 832 — Chorizontes 48
Hesychius Ilustrius 852 — concentration of the plot 31, 48
Hexameter 58 f. — contradictions 32 ff., 35 f.
Hicetas of Syracuse 484 — cultural strata 53-58
Hiero of Syracuse 185, 189, 193 f., 203, — Doloneia 26, 31, 40, 55, 57, 60, 631
238, 242 — dramatization 31 f., 39
Hiero II 719 — economy 38
Hierocles of Alexandria 877 f., 885 — episode-technique 27, n. 1, 31
Hieronymus of Cardia 768 — formulaic elements 62 f., 64
Hieronymus of Rhodes 691 — Four-man commentary 76
Hilarody 746 — gods 21, 65-71
Hildebrandslied 83 — humanizing 39
Himerius 136, 183, 871 f. — Iliad, structure of 23-31, 38
Hipparchus of Nicaea 751 f., 792, — interpolations 40, 52 f.
891 — judgment of Paris 30
2G 909
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Homer, language 58-65 Iambulus, novelist 861

— literacy 37-41, 73 Ibycus 108, 175, 181-184
— name 15, 40 Icarius 229
— neoanalysis 36, n. 1 Ictinus, architect 274, 483
— Odyssey, duration of voyages 45 f. Idaeus of Himera 334
— Odyssey, geography 42 f., 44 ff. Idyll 720
— Odyssey, structure of 41-48 Iliu Persis 82
— oral composition 18, 37, 39 f., 63 f. Inventors’ catalogues 128
— people, representation of 70-73 Ioannes Antiochenus 851
— Pisistratean recension 34, 36 f., 73 f. —— Chrysostomus 871
— prosody 58 f. —— Diaconus 225
— psychology 70-73 of Gaza 818 f.
— reference-technique 31 f., 35 f., 37 f. —— Malalas 851
— religiosity 66 f., 68 f. —— Philoponus 885
— ring-composition 65 — Xiphilinus 850
— scholia 75 ff. — Zonaras 850
— Shield of Achilles 29, n. 1, 109 Ion of Chios 166, 272, 330, 334, 409-411,
— similes 24, 53, 55, 63 f., 734 417, 497
— social structure 54 f., 70 Ion of Samos 417
— speeches 65 Ionians 2, 10, 85 f., 91, 161 f., 174, 218 f.,
— Telemachia 48, 50 f.; 83 233, 406.6. 250, 428 b aae
— tragic character 32, 67 f., 70 Tonicologoi 747
— transmission 2, 6, 73-79 Iophon 275
— Unitarians 34-36, 39, 49, 51, 52 Isaeus 595 f.
— Warner 27, 28, 29, 32 Ischia, v. Cup of L.
— Wrath-theme 30 f., 48, 51, 53 Isidorus of Miletus 892
Homer of Byzantium 743 Isigonus of Nicaea 782
Homeric bowls 83 Isis 156, 822, 860
Horace 111, 117; 1335 135,137) 138, 220; Isis, aretalogies of 762
229, 658, 670, 682, 714, 745 Isocrates I, I7I, 208, 306, 353, 480, 506,
Hortensius Hortalus 699 547, 554, 572, 583-591, 593 £, 596, 599,
Hybrias from Crete 174 603, 607, 609, 611, 618, 625 f., 627f.,
Hybris 69, 124 f., 126, 149, 246 f., 279 f., 632, 667, 699 f., 829, 833, 836
371, 602 Ister, Callimachean 191, 668, 691
Hymenaios 107 Isyllus of Epidaurus 760
Hymns, Homeric 15, 84-88, 129, 136, Tulius Victor 790
297, 704, 706, 723
Hymns, Orphic 812
Hymn-writing 180, 196, 202, 257 f., 410,
Jason of Cyrene 800
Jesus Sirach 800
416, $49, 552, 704 f., 751, 811 f., 884 f.
Hypatia 884
Josephus Flavius 36, 801, 805
Juba II of Mauretania 779
Hyperides 5, 379, 596, 604, 608, 609 f.,
Julia Domna 837
Orr ;
Hypocrites 228
Julian 852, 871 f£., 883 f., 895
Julianus, theurgist 881
Hypodicus of Chalcis 302
Julius Valerius 767
Hyporchema 197, 202, 231
Julius Vestinus 832
Hypsicles, astronomer 792
Justin 766
Jamblichus, Neoplatonist 166, 184, 484, Justus of Tiberias 805
554, 798, 833, 885
lamblichus, novelist 857, 864 Kairos 351, 410
Iambos 108, 109-117, 127, 304, 420 f. Kierkegaard 434
910
 INDEX

Koine 610, 623, 659, 698 £., 777, 779, 791, Logos 212 f., 351, 499, $14, 675-677, 680,
825 795, 814, 822
Komos 233 f., 431, 436, 448, 658 Lollianus of Ephesus 834
Longus of Lesbos 726, 867 f.
Lachares of Athens 873 Lucan 876
Lactantius 675 Lucian 327, 445, 671, 771, 833, 838-842,
Lamprocles 206, 305 f. 861, 868
Lamprus 272 Lucillius, epigrammatist 8to
Lasus of Hermione 189, 192, 206, 305 Lucius, pupil of Musonius 876
Leaves of gold from Lower Italy 160 Lucius of Patrae 845, 864
Leleges 7 Lycia 20
Leodamas, mathematician $43 Lycon, accuser of Socrates 499
Leon of Byzantium 628 Lycon, Peripatetic 552 f., 689
Leon, mathematician 543 Lycophron of Chalcis 449, 702, 743,
Leonidas of Alexandria 811 744 f.
Leonidas of Tarentum 738, 739, 740, Lycophron, sophist 591
752 Lucretius 335, 681, 683
Leontius, expounder of Aratus 752 Lycurgus, orator 2, 119, 233, 267, 599,
Lesbonax, rhetorician 868 611, 628, 631
Lesbos 9, 128 f., 138 f., 145 Lycus of Rhegium 772
Lesches 82 Lydia 133, 140, 144, 149, 174
Lessing 401 Lygdamis of Halicarnassus 307
Letters of Aeschines 608, 763 Lyre, v. Stringed instruments
Letters of Aristeas 800, 802 Lyric poetry, divisions of 108 f.
Letters of Demosthenes 606 Lysias 355, 499, $33, 585, 592-595, 596,
Letters of Epicurus 681 f. 598, 830 f.
Letters of Isocrates 587 Lysicrates-memorial 302
Letters of Lysias 593 Lysiody 746
Letters of Philostratus 838 Lysis, Pythagorean 797 f.
Letters of Plato, v. Plato
Letters of the Socratics 503 Maccabees, books of 800 f.
Leucatas, Cape 140 Machon of Corinth 743
Leucippus 335, 337 Magnes 237, 418f.
Libanius 499, 596, 604, 689, 871 f. Magody 746
Libraries of the West 5 Maeistas, aretalogy of Sarapis 761 f.
Library of Alexandria 3, 74, 344, 579, Magic papyri 722, 811 »
689, 696, 703, 854 Maiden’s Complaint 137, 746
Library of Athens 3 Majuscule script 1
Library of Herculaneum 6 Malchus, historian 852
Library of Pergamum 3, 576, 856 Manasse’s prayer 800
Licinius Calvus 716 Manetho of Sebennytus 770
Licymnius, dithyrambic poet 353, 414, Manuel Moschopulus 5, 299
417, 591, 758 Map of the earth 164.
Limenius 761 f. Marcellinus, grammarian 455, 457, 478,
Linear A 12 607
Linear B 10, 11 f., 20, 56, 61 Marcellus of Side 813
Lindos, anagraphe 770 Marcianus of Heraclea 890
Linus-song 107 Marcus Aurelius 4, 829, 842, 877, 804.
Lithica, Orphic 812 Margites 89
Little Iliad 82 f., 290 Marianus 813
Livy 509, 850 Marinus, Neoplatonist 885
Logographers 221 Marinus of Tyre 891
git
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Mark Antony 3 Menander, Georgus 648

Marmor Parium 770 — Glycera 645
Marsyas of Pella 767 — Heautontimorumenos 647
Martial 645, 810 — Heniochus 645
Masks 223, 229 — Heros 648
Mathematics 166f., 216f., 483f., $24, — Hiereia 649
529, 532, $38, 542f., 564, $76, 786, — Hippocomes 646
790 f., 795, 884 £., 890-892 — Imbrii 645, 649
Matro of Pitane 640 — Leucadia 140
Maximus, Neoplatonist 883 — Maxims 646 f.
Maximus Planudes 5, 299, 709 — Misumenus 661
Maximus of Tyre 145, 879 — Orge 644 f., 646
Mechanema (intrigue) 386 f., 389, 636 — Periceiromene 645 f., 648, 651 f.,
Medicine 217, 478, 485-493, 577» 795; 655 f., 656 f., 658 ff., 661
892-896 — Perinthia 646 f.
Megacles, Alcmeonid 191 — Periochae 649
Megarian farce 236, 238, 419 — Phasma 654, 656
Megasthenes 771, 848 — Plocion 647
Melanchros, tyrant of Lesbos 131 f. — Samia 648, 661
Melanippides of Melos 414 f. — Theophorumene 648
Melanthius, Atthidographer 414, n. 3, Menander of Ephesus 771
665 Menander of Laodicea 844
Melanthius, tragedian 303 Menecrates of Ephesus 751
Meleager, story of 22, 70, 203, 230 Menecrates of Xanthus 770
Meleager of Gadara 641, 709, 740 Menedemus of Eretria 744, 751
Meletus, accuser of Socrates 499 Menelaus of Aegae 736
Meletus, tragedian 631 Menelaus, mathematician 891
Melinno 762 Menestor of Sybaris 218
Melissus 209, 211 Menippus of Gadara 670 f., 840, 873
Melitides 89 Menippus of Pergamum 848
Memnon 23, 82 Meno 487, $77
Menaechmus, mathematician $43, 791 Menodotus of Perinthus 769
Menander 239, 295, 387, 428, 448 f., 635, Mesomedes 761, 811 f.
642-662, 663 f., 681, 746 f., 823, 868 Methodists’ school 795, 893, 895
— Adelphoe I 647, 651 Meton, astronomer 484
— Adelphoe II 647 Metrocles, Cynic 670
— Agroecus 644 Metrodorus, Cnidian physician 577, 795
— Andria 646 f. Metrodorus of Lampsacus, Epicurean 685
— Apistus 644 Metrodorus of Lampsacus, expounder of
— [Aulularia] 647 Homer 329
— Carchedonius 647 Metrodorus of Scepsis 780
— [Cistellaria] 647 Migrations, Greek 8-11
— Colax 644, 646 f. Milesian tales 440, 763, 858
— Comoedia Florentina 648, 656, 660 Miletus 11, 122, 161, 174, 230, 416, 763
— Coneazomenae 660 Mime 240, 514, 623, 709, 722, 738, 746f.,
— Didymae 646 748, 809 f., 859
— Disidaemon 644 Mimiambi 748
— Double Cheater 647 Mimnermus of Colophon 120 f., 127,
— Dyscolus 645, 648, 649-653, 658 171, 638, 710, 752
— Epitrepontes 645 f., 648, 652, 653 f., Mimologoi 747 f.
656 f., 658, 660 f. Minuscule script 4
— Eunuchus 646 f. Minyas 84.
gI2
 INDEX

Mnasalces of Sicyon 739 Naupactica 106

Mnhesarchus, Stoic 681 Nausiphanes of Teos 681
Mnesimachus, comic poet 634, 652 Neanthes of Cyzicus 769
Moderatus of Gades 880 Near East, v. Oriental
Moeris, Atticist 832 Nearchus 578, 767, 848
Moero 743, 757 Nechepso-Petosiris 698, 798
Molon of Rhodes 790 Neleus of Scepsis 578 f.
Monimus, Cynic 646 Nemesion 76
Monologue 369, 657, 662, 859 Neoclides, mathematician 543
Moral code, v. Righteousness Neophron 368
Morsimus, tragedian 243 Neoptolemus of Parium 736
Moschine, iambic poetess 740 Neoplatonism 673, 829, 852, 873, 878-
Moschion 378, 632, 744 888
Moschopulus 5 Nero 761, 808 f., 876, 889, 893
Moschus of Syracuse 726, 756 Nestor of Laranda 754, 815
Musaeus 84, 159 Nicaenetus of Samos 736, 755
Musaeus, follower of Nonnus 758, 818 Nicander of Colophon 752-754
Musaeus of Ephesus 736 Nicander of Colophon, epic poet 753
Muses 92, I10, 146, 168, 183, 275, 403, Nicander of Thyatira 668
$51, 712, 739, 811 Nicanor 76
Muses, thiasos to 275 Niceratus of Heraclea 416, 637, 719
Museum 3, 689, 696 f., 784 £., 876, 884, Nicetes of Smyrna 833
890 Nicias of Miletus 720, 724
Musical notation, transmitted 761, 811 Nicodemus of Heraclea 811
Musonius Rufus 834, 876 Nicolaus of Damascus 779
Mycenaean culture 8, 10-13, 18, 20, 21, Nicolaus of Myra 873
$4, 55 £, SPE, 128 Nicomachus of Gerasa 880, 891
Mycenaean kingdom 21, 54, 65 Nicostratus, son of Aristophanes 633
Mycenaean poetry 18, 62 Nicostratus of Macedon 864
Myres 332 Nigidius Figulus 797, 880
Myron of Priene 736 Ninus-romance 857, 861
Myrsilus, tyrant of Lesbos 132 f. Niobe 22
Myrtis of Anthedon 178 f. Nome (type of song) 109, 129, 170,
Mysteries 85 f., 211, 242, 329, 414, N. 2, 414 ff.
443, 467, 525, 804, 808, 822, 860 Nomos 219, 325, 342, 346, 349 £., 355 £,
Myth 11, 13, 97f., 100, 102, 121, 135 f., 357 ff, 675, 838
150, 151, 153, 156f., 162 f., 181, 198 f., Nonnus ofPanopolis 811, 816£.,818
IEG; 204, 218, 221k, 227'£.). 23556251, Northwestern Greeks 9
287, 320f., 329 f., 331, 341, 346, 357, Nossis of Locri 739
385, 398, 402, 409, 419, 427, 432, 478, Nostoi (Homecomings) 83
$06, $14, $21, $26, $31, 534f,, 552, 627, Novel 42, 156, 157, 317, 692
628, 635, 656, 662£., 7out; 7331, Novella 762 f., 858
7§2, 781, 822, 835, 840, 860 Numenius of Apamea 880
Myth of the kingdom in the Sky 94 Numenius of Heraclea 753
Myths, travesty of 236 ff. 749, of. also Nymphis of Heraclea 770
Myth
Obscenity in ritual r10, 234
Naevius 636 Ocean 43, 45, 121, 162, 254, 318, 731,
Nature, feeling for 150, 293, 726, 735 732
Nature, law of 356 f., 358 f., 493, 497 f. Ocellus of Lucania 798
Naucratis 138 Odysseus, name 41
Naumachius 814 Oechalias Halosis 84
913
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Oedipodea 80 242 f., 245, 264-266, 207f., 304, 306,

Oenopides of Chios 484 326, 354f., 360, 382, 393, 405f., 410,
Olen 84 415, 419 f., 423, 425, 453, 455, 481, 487,
Olympiodorus, Neoplatonist 507, 512, 507, 508, 551, 567, 577, 591, 594, 610,
885 612 f., 614 f., 624, 626, 629 f., 632, 640,
Olympiodorus of Thebes 852 648 £., 670 f., 682 f., 691, 695, 703, 705;
Olympus, fluteplayer 109 710, 712, 715, 723 f., 729, 741, 746, 754,
Onasander, tactician 782, 853 756 £., 758 £., 761 £5 767,771,798. SO
Onesicritus of Astypalaea 767 Soo f., 814f., 816f., 818f., 834, 857,
Onomacritus 160 860 f., 863, 865, 877
Oppianus of Anazarbus 813 Parabasis 235, 424 f., 428-430, 435 £., 437,
Oppianus of Apamea 813 438 £, 441, 443, 446, 448 f., 633
Oral composition 18, 37, 39 f., 63, 100 Paraclausithyron 747
Oribasius 852, 895 Paradoxography 704, 779 f., 781 f.
Oriental 13, 21, 56, 65, 94-96, 122, 154, Paragraphos 2
U(OIR, MOIR Qik, SOs, Seve, Suis, SAS. Parchment 4
727, 837, 859 f., 867, 878, 881, 883 Parmenides 209-211, 212, 214, 216, 332,
Origen 879 341, 345, 350, $02, $24, $31 £, 533, 541
Orpheus 84, 128, 159 f., 161, 181, 330, Parody 89, 417, 445
Ali OA mSO2 ole Parry-collection 17
Orphism 159-161, 166, 181, 193, 197, 215, Partheneia 149 f., 197, 202
329, 438, 521, 526, $63, 704, 797 Parthenius of Nicaea 755 ff.
Ovid 96, 139 £., 179, 370, 701, 707, 713; Patrocles, general of Antiochus I 771
07, 154 Paulus Alexandrinus 891
Oxyrhynchus 6, 265 Paulus Silentiarius 811, 818
Pausanias of Damascus 855 f.
Paean 107, 192, 197, 202, 206, 273 f., Pausanias, lexicographer 832
759-763 Pausanias, periegete 80, 83, 109, 160, 172,
Palaephatus 629 175, 180, 194, 232, 241, 457, 511, 736,
Palladas, epigrammatist 811 855 f.
Pamphila, grammarian 624, 889 Pausanias, sophist 853, 855
Pamphilus of Alexandria 832 Pectis 129
Pamphos 84 Pelasgians 7 f.
Pamphylia 9 Penelope, name 41
Pamprepius of Panopolis 818 Penthesilea 82, 83
Pan 88, 194, 226, 241, 635, 650 f., 751, Penthilidae in Lesbos 130
754, 760 Pergamum 4, 696, 698, 785, 787, 788 f.,
Panaetius of Rhodes 678, 680 f., 789 791, 812, 836, 894
Panathenaea 37, 73, 173 Periander of Corinth 129, 152, 157, 183,
Pancrates, epic poet 815 2253 Tt
Pandora, myth of ror f., 114 Pericles!anas 2316 2ATaa72, (20% sosne 3.
Pantomime 749, 810 332, 334, 342; 379, 403, 419, 423 f., 425,
Panyassis of Halicarnassus 106 f., 307, 435, 452, 456, 460-462, 475, 477, 479,
323, 637 493, 506, 520, 527, 589, 592, 642, 836
Pappus, mathematician 889, 892 Peripatos 3, 547-582, 645, 653, 667, 686-
Papyrus 1, 4, 606 692, 764f., 784, 823, 833, 875, 879,
Papyrus, Didot 649, 654 f., 657 880 ff., 890
Papyrus of Hawara 668 f. Periplus, literature of 219 f., 668 f., 793,
Papyrus; texts 2, $f., a5 f.5 93, 104) 11>, 847 f.
WS; e132,0034,) 180, aT, wld $7, aoe Periplus maris Erythraei 793
153, 15507, Ieee es, Persacus of Citium 673
187 ff., 189, 192, 196, 202, 204, 232, 238, Perses of Thebes 739
O14
 INDEX
Persinus of Ephesus 639 Philonides of Thebes 673
Persius 876 Philopoemen 772
Personification 98, 127, 201 Philostephanus of Cyrene 754 f.
Pessimism 98, 101 f., 114, 187 Philostratus 273, 608, 833, 836-838, 842,
Petrarch 589 855, 865, 868
Petronius 115, 671, 763 Philoxenus of Alexandria 789
Phaedo of Elis 496, 504 Philoxenus of Cythera 415, 721
Phaenias of Eresos 691 Philoxenus of Leucas 640
Phaénus, astronomer 484 Phlegon of Tralles 853
Phalaecus 739 Phlyaces 236, 635, 749
Phalaris 151, 507 Phocais 84
Phaleas of Chalcedon 447, 527 Phocus of Samos 163
Phallus 233 f., 236 f., 428 Phocylides 107, 114, 170, 591
Phanocles 128, 755 Phoenicians 13, 55, 95, 309
Phanodemus 628, 665, 668 f., 769 Phoenix of Colophon 108, 671
Phaon 139 Phormis 237
Pherecrates, comic poet 414, 422, 426, Phoronis 106
449, 652 Photius, patriarch 4f., 79, 81, 109, 624,
Pherecydes of Athens 221 f. 778 £., 813, 847, 849, 852, 860, 862, 864,
Pherecydes of Syros 161, 411 872 £.
Phileas (of Athens?) 485 Phrynichus, Atticist 832
Philemon 656, 662, 746 Phrynichus, comic poet 422, 439, 442,
Philetaerus, son of Aristophanes 633 652
Philicus of Corcyra 743, 759 Phrynichus, tragedian 230 ff, 245, 364
Philinus of Agrigentum 771 Phrynis of Mytilene 414
Philinus of Cos 795 Phya, v. Physis
Philip II of Macedon 219, 543, 549 f., 583, Phylarchus 625, 764, 766, 769, sede
§87, 590, 601-605, 624 f., 627 f., 634 Physiologus 853
Philip of Opus 506, 538 Physis 200 f., 293, 338, 346, 349 f., 356,
Philip of Thessalonica 741, 810 359, 374, 486, 480, 491, 554, 558, 675 f.,
Philippides, comic poet 664 684, 838
Philiscus, comic poet 635 Pigres 88
Philiscus, Isocratean 771 Pindar 108, 113) 121,120,137, 148 f.,
Philistion of Locri 577, 893 159 f., 178 f., 180, 185 ff., 190-203, 204,
Philistion of Nicaea 809 205 f., 2i1, 242, 256, 272,203, 325; 346,
Philistus of Syracuse 628 349, 410, 733, 824
Philitas of Cos 121, 700 ff., 710 f., 720, 755 Pisander of Rhodes 106
Philo the Elder 802 Pisinus of Lindos 106
Philo of Alexandria 799, 802-805 Pisistratus 36, 123, 131, 229, 472 f.
Philo of Byblos 95, 889 Pittacus 107, 123, 131 f., 133 f., 157, 173,
Philo of Byzantium 699, 794 189, 433
Philo of Larissa 685 Plague in Athens 456, 461
Philo, Megarian 672 Planudes 5, 155
Philochorus of Athens 311, 548, 665-667, Plato 1, 109, 146, 157, 160, 165, 171, 240,
741 265, 342, 358, 414, 494-496, 497, 502 f.,
Philocles I and II, tragedians 243 504, 505-547, 548 Ff, 552 f,, 555, 558f.,
Philodamus of Scarphea 760 562, $65, 568, 569, 575, 578, 582, 586,
Philodemus of Gadara 305, $52, 637, 588 f., 597, 609, 625, 634f., 637, 641,
682 f., 685, 687, 738, 741, 810 669, 673, 679, 685f., 690f., 776, 793,
Philogelos 809 804, 821, 823, 829, 831, 836, 855, 859,
Philolaus of Croton 484 f., 525, 797 867 f., 872, 876, 878, 880f., 883, 885,
Philonides, chorodidascalus 426, 435, 438 890, 894
915
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Plato, chronology of the dialogues 515- Plautus 634, 647 f., 657, 662 f.
517 Pleiad, Tragic 743
— [Alcibiades] 109, 511 f. Pliny the Elder 641, 645, 782, 799, 895
— Apology 347, 434, 494, 498 ff, 511, Pliny the Younger 809, 835
515, 519 £., 690 Plotinus 809, 878, 881-883, 934 f., 937-
— Charmides 506, 516, 517 939
— Cratylus 345, 516,522 £. Plutarch of Athens 885
= Critias 516, $22,534 it Plutarch of Chaeronea 157, 178f., 203,
— Crito 494, 497, 516, 520 230, 274, 303 f., 308, 339, 363, 409, 41I,
— Epinomis 512, 538 421, 456, 499, 596 £., 598, 604, 618, 646,
— Euthydemus 516, 522 658, 676, 683, 747, 762, 764, 768 f., 773,
— Euthyphro 494, 516, 517 791, 819-829, 879
— Gorgias 338, 357, 457, 508, 516, 520 f,, — Lamprias’ catalogue 821, 824 f.
$22, 526, 533, 542, 588, 836 — Lives 821, 822, 824, 828
— Hermocrates $34 — [Lives of the Orators] 596, 608 f., 823
— Hippias maior 512, 516, 519 — Moralia 821-824, 826 f.
— Hippias minor 77, 349, 516, 518 f. — [On Music] 129, 148, 272, 413, 823
— Jon 329, 516, 519 Pneumatic school 893
== Laches, 435, $12, 516, 517 Polemon, Academic 672, 685
— Laws, v. Nomoi Polemon of Ilium 780
— Letters 507, $11, 517, 520, 522, $25, Polemon, sophist 833, 835
$29, 539, 878 Pollux 250, 832
— Lysis 516, 517 Polus of Agrigentum 353, 520, 591
— Menexenus 354, 516, 522 Polyaenus 782, 852, 856
— Meno 343, 516, 521, 536 Polybius 625, 627, 629, 671, 699, 764,
— Nomoi 414, n. 1, 511, 512, 517, §29, 769, 771, 772-777, 778, 846, 890
536-538, 568 Polybus, Hippocratic 491
— On the Good 524, 540-542 Polyclitus 274, 483
— Parmenides 515 f., 531 f. Polycrates of Samos 174 f., 181-184,
— Phaedo 6, 334, 434, 484, 494, 497, 516, Mulan, sey as
S1Os$22 £5,525 £.51530,2553,, $02 Polycrates, sophist 495, 586, 591, 622
— Phaedrus 486, 512, 514, 516 f., 522, Polygnotus 109, 172
532 f., 539, 588, 593 Polyidus of Selymbria 414
— Philebus 516 f., 534 Polymnestus of Colophon 148
— Politicus 516 f,, 534, 536 Polystratus, Epicurean 685
— Protagoras 173, 188f., 341, 343, 346, Pompeius Trogus 778
347 £., 349, 355, 411, 424, 486, 516, 518, Popular epic 16 f.
520 f. Popular justice 235
— Republic 225, 305f., 347, 357, 447, Porphyry 190, 379, 738, 891, 900, 918,
$10, 512, 516, 520f., 526-531, 534, 536, 938, 939 f.
538, 566, 568, 592, 690, 822, 878 Poseidon 201, 205, 230, 321, 371 f,, 383,
— Sophistes 281, 516 f., 533 391, 439, O11
— spurious $11 Posidippus of Cassandrea 664
— Symposium 146, 225, 353, 410f., 434, Posidippus, epigrammatist 639, 711, 740
408, 502; $15 the s22-f 0524 f 5260933. Posidippus of Thebes 811
854 Posidonius of Apamea 574, 678-681, 777,
— Theaetetus 209, 345, 346, 484, $00, 514, 778, 789, 793, 879, 890, 891
$16, $26, 532, 533, 542, 548 Pot-bellied dancers 226, 236 f.
— Timaeus 342, 516, 534 f., 537, 690, 821 Pratinas of Phlius 224, 230, 231 f., 242,
— transmission 6, 511 272
Plato, comic poet 422 f. Praxagoras, Coan physician $77, 795
Platonius, grammarian 425, 448 Praxilla of Sicyon 180 f,
O16
 INDEX
Praxiphanes, Peripatetic 457, 690, 704, Pythodorus 342 f.
711 Python, writer of the Agen 632
Pre-Greek population 7 f., 41, 58
Priscian 813 Quintilian 152, 153, 187, 591, 659, 715
Priscus of Panion 852 Quintus of Smyrna 815
Proclus (chrestomathy) 79 f., 81 £., 89
Proclus, Neoplatonist 84, 512, 542, 673, Raimund 141
689, 705, 791, 812, 814, 885 Ras-Shamra 95
Procopius of Caesarea 852 Rationalism 221
Procopius of Gaza 873 Realism 722 f., 726, 739, 741, 748
Prodicus 330, 347 f., 360, 486, 503, $83 Reincarnation 160, 166, 197, 215
Progymnasmata 829, 843, 871, 873 Rhapsodes 16, 37, 40, 52, 73, 85 f., 92 f,,
Prohaeresius, rhetorician 871 103, 172, 208, $19
Prologue 228, 231, 257, 259, 261, 283, 288, Rhetoric 65, 155, 350-353, 3545 357s 359
386, 388 f., 392, 394, 396, 401, 428, 650, Nols, GO, Gey BO, Soyln SY Pilen ee
656, 662 f. 616, 624, 632, 688, 680, 741, 789 f., 807,
Propempticon 112 821, 825, 829 ff., 832f., 835f., 839,
Propertius 180 843 f., 858 £., 868, 870-874, 875, 885
Protagoras 190, 307 f., 335, 339, 342-347, Rhetoric of [Aristides] 843
350f., 353, 355f, 358f, 360, 459, Rhetoric of Oxyrhynchus 357, 592
476 f., 498, 503, 513, 518, $37 Rhianus of Crete 736
Psaon of Plataea 769 Rhinton of Syracuse 236, 238, 749
Psaromachia 89 Rhodes 9, 19, 678, 697, 785, 789 f., 834
Psychology in drama 287, 365 f., 397 f. Righteousness 68-70, 100, 102, 127, 241,
Ptolemy Chennus $48, 860 357, 520, 684
Ptolemy el-Garib 548, 553 Rilke 571
Ptolemy I Soter 3, 689, 695, 701, 766 f., Ring composition 65, 103, 115, 136, 199,
781, 790, 848 441, 453, 460, 481
Ptolemy II Philadelphus 3, 340, 666, 689, Romance 155, 322, 326, 857-870
697, 700, 702, 706, 707, 718f., 723, Rufus of Ephesus 893
743 £., 747, 759, 784, 793, 800 Rutilius Lupus 790
Ptolemy III Euergetes 268, 703, 707, 713,
729, 730, 743, 748, 751 £., 785 Sacadas of Argos 109, 148
Ptolemy IV Philopator 744, 801 f. Saga and history 19-21
Ptolemy VII Physcon 785, 788 Salamis 123
Ptolemy, mathematician 890 f. Salustius, editor of Sophocles 299, 717
Pylades, pantomime 749 Salustius, Neoplatonist 884
Pylos 11, 20f., 46, 54, 58, 81, 463 f., 469 Sanchuniathon 95
Pyres of Miletus 747 Sappho 108, I12, 128, 130, 133, 138-147,
Pyrrhon of Elis 671, 685, 795, 875 Ist, 1745 176, 182, 422) G40, 1063, 723;,
Pythagoras 165-167, 182, 209, 213, 217, 739
336, 348, 411, 413, 521, 578, 634, 691, Satyricon 224
796-799, 862, 879 f., 883 Satyr-plays 224-226, 231 f., 244 f., 256,
Pythagoreans and Pythagoreanism 165- 265 f., 297, 400 f., 410, 744
167, 193, 197, 209, 215 f., 306, 329, 336, Satyrs 225 f., 236, 420, 754
340, 411, 413, 421, 483 f., $04, 508, 510, Satyrus 6, 350, 361 f., 656, 601
521, 523, 525, 538, 543, 563, 577 f., 667, Scenography 274
679, 796-799, 837, 862, 867, 876, 878- Sceptics 671, 795, 875, 893
882, 883, 8or f. Scheler 264
Pytheas of Massalia 578 Schlegel, A. W. 374
Pythermus of Teos 175 Schopenhauer 280
Pythoclides, musician 306 Scipionic circle 647, 678, 773
917
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Scolion 157, 173 f., 181, 185, 189, 197, 308, 325, 340-360, 360 1b By, Oy ZEON
206, 303, 452, 518, 738 44, 420, 423, 434, 459, 470; 478 £,
Scopads 185, 187, 189 479 £., 493, 497£., 501, 506, 510, 513,
Scopelianus of Clazomenae 816, 833, 835 §18; 520 f., 522) 520 1:, $50, 56839509,
Scylax of Caryanda 219, 578 572, 585, 589, S9I, 594, 621, 639, 643,
Scymmnus of Chios 755 781, 784, 833
Scythians 158, 312, 320 Sophistic, Second 3, 829-845, 857 f., 859,
Scythinus of Teos 213 870-874
Seleucus of Seleucea 792 Sophocles 242 f., 246, 250, 271-302, 303,
Semonides of Amorgos 98, 114 f., 154 306, 308, 334, 360f., 362, 366, 3821,
Semos of Delos 234 393, 403, 409, 411, 417, 422, 444, 493,
Seneca 145, 370, 671, 676, 679, 683, 876 740, 809, 861
Seneca the Elder 829 f. — Ajax 276-279, 290, 293, 298, 372, 381,
Separation of Heaven and Earth 96 652
Septuagint 800, 802 — Antigone 135, 250, 272, 275, 276, 277 £,
Serapeum 3 270-282, 283 f, 287, 200,.203,) 2051,
Serapion of Alexandria 795 308, 361, 367, 393, 476
Serenus, mathematician 892 — Crisis 348
Seven Sages 133, 156f., 513, 689, 714, — Electra 285, 288-290, 298, 308, 384
823 — Eurypylus 298
Q. Sextius 880 — Gathering of the Achaeans 298
Sextus Empiricus 160, 350, 358 f., 875 — Ichneutae 265, 297 f., 400
Shamanism 17, 158 — Inachus 297
Sibylline oracle 801 f. — Nausicaa 273
Sicilus-ditty 761 — Ode to Herodotus 274, 308
Silens, Silenus 225, 266 — Oedipus Coloneus 276, 290, 293-296,
Silenus of Calacte 771 403
Simias of Rhodes 725, 729 — Oedipus Tyrannus 243, 277f, 279,
Simmias of Thebes 484, 525 282 f., 284-288, 290f., 294, 298, 389,
Simody 746 410, 517
Simon of Athens 621 — On the Chorus 274, 483
Simonides of Ceos 108, 114, 120, 173, 184- — Paean to Asclepius 273, 759
190, 192, 194, 196f., 198, 202 f., 206, — Phaedra 298
303, $18, 623, 713 — Philoctetes 276, 290, 291-293, 298,
Simonides of Ceos the younger 330 338, 388, 400
Simonides of Magnesia 736 — Scyrii 298
Simplicius 792, 886 — Telephia 275
Singers, their social position 14 f. — Tereus 298, 368
Siron, Epicurean 682 — Thamyris 273
Social factors 91 f,, 98, 103, 122f., 158, — Trachiniae 84, 279, 282-284, 290,
169, 384, 447f., 505, 642 f., 652, 661 f., prema
807 f., 834 f., 841, 870 — transmission 299 f.
Socrates 145, 334f, 412, 424, 433-435, — Triptolemus 274
493-505; passim in chapter on Plato Sophocles, accuser of the philosophers
562, 578, 586, 616, 622 f., 683, 601 591, OII, O86
Solon 36, 72, 121-128, 133, TS7, L5on Lyle Sophron 240, 514, 722, 746, 748
174, 225, 307, 309 f., 341, 424, 506, $86, Soranus of Ephesus 485, 893
673 Sosibius the Laconian 149, 235 f., 770
Song of Ullikummi 94 f. Sosicrates (Sostratus) of Phanagorea 755
Sopater of Paphos 749 Sosigenes 792
Sophaenetus of Stymphalus 618 Sosiphanes, tragedian 743
Sophistic movement 189 f., 254, 281, 293, Sositheus 740, 743 f.
918
 INDEX
Sosthenes of Paros 113 Telegonia 83
Sosylus of Lacedaemon 771 Teles, Cynic 670
Sotades of Maronea 747 Telesilla of Argos 180
Soterichus, epic poet 815, 816 Telestes of Selinus 414, 601
Sotion of Alexandria 690 Terence 426, 647 f., 663
Soul, doctrine of 160 f., 163, 213, 214 f, Terpander 128 f., 148, 414, 416
ATI, 680 f. Testament, Old 107
Sparta 118 f., 129, 148 f., 152, 163, 313, Thales of Miletus 157, 162 f., 164, 216
568 Thaletas of Gortyn 148
Speusippus 506, $11, 543, $40, 551, 685, Theagenes of Megara 122
878 Theagenes of Rhegium 74, 209, 329
Sphaerus, the Borysthenite 673 Theaetetus 532 f., 535, 542
Spoken verse in tragedy 228 f,, gor f. Theatre, v. Stage-usages
Stage-usages 226f., 246, 250f., 253 f,, Thebaid 80, 638
256 f., 259, n. 2, 262, 274, 278, 370, 380 f., Theban legend 21 f., 79 ff, 178 f.
402, 426, 436 f., 440, n. 1, 443, 637, 655, Themis 70, 99, 124
832 Themison of Laodicea 892 f.
Stasinus 81 Themistius 228, 540, 872 f., 875
State, ship of 134, 248 Themistocles 185, 206, 230 f., 241, 452,
Statius 638 460, 479, 520, 836
Statius Caecilius 647 Themistogenes of Syracuse 618
Stephanus of Byzantium 485, 890 Theocritus 92, 109, 136, 151, 180, 240, 415,
Stesichorus 108 f., 130, 151-153, 181 f., 697, 700 f., 709, 718-728, 732, 737, 739;
183, 196, 199, 256, 289, 352, 386, 721 748, 750, 813, 861, 867
Stesimbrotus of Thasos 74, 209, 329, 452, Theocritus of Chios 641
638, 781 Theodectes of Phaselis 499, 572 f., 632
Stilpon of Megara 502, 672 Theodicy 125
Stoa 209, 212 f., $68, 669, 672-680, 683 f., Theodorus of Asine 883
685, 804, 821, 840f., 853, 876 f£., 877 £, Theodorus of Byzantium 357, 591, 593
881, 890, 891, 893 Theodorus of Cyrene 484, 508, 532 f.
Stobaeus 157, 854, 855, 876 Theodorus of Gadara 830, 843
Strabo of Amasea 578, 679, 777, 789, 792, Theodosius of Bithynia 793
890 Theodotus, Jewish epic poet 802
Stratocles, orator 611 Theognis of Megara 168-171, 172 f., 591
Stratocles of Rhodes 678 Theogonies (exc. Hesiod) 159 f., 161,
Straton of Lampsacos 552, 688, 784, 792, 220 $5 AS: 8x2
795 Theolytus, epic poet 736
Straton of Sardes 811 Theon, v. Aelius
Strattis 415 Theon of Alexandria 6, 790, 884, 892
Stringed instruments 108 f., 128 f., 142, Theon of Antioch 499
148, 175, 198, 306, 414, 416 Theon, grammarian 712, 727, 745
Succession-myths 94 f. Theon of Smyrna 879
Suidas 832 Theophanes of Mytilene 780
Sulpicius Gallus 799 Theophilus, patriarch 3
Syncrisis 93, 825 Theophrastus 157, 162, 209, 335, 549, 552,
Synesius of Cyrene 812, 834, 871, 884 556, 564f., $73, 575, 576 ff, $79, 609,
Syracosius 420 644, 660, 686-688, 689f., 752, 764 f.,
Syrian, Neoplatonist 885 784, 789, 794, 873
Theopompus of Chios 327, 624-626,
Tacitus 850 627 f., 641, 765, 768
Technopaegnia 721, 724 f., 745 Theopompus, comic poet 634
Teleclides 421 Theron of Acragas 185, 193
919
 HISTORY OF GREEK LITERATURE

Theseus 21, 81, 106, 204 f., 295, 304, Tynnichus of Chalcis 206
971 f., 378 bt, 380, 720 Tyrannion 579, 788
Thespis 224, 227, 229, 274, 740 Tyrants 122 f., 125, 129 ff.,133, 170, 174;
Thespis’ cart 229 213, 225, 227, 467, $49
Thesprotis 83 Tyrtaeus 118-120, 122, 127, 169
Thessalonica 5 Wzetzes As A204 7035 745
Thessalus of Tralles 893
Theudius of Magnesia, mathematician Uspensky Gospels 4
$43
Thomas Magister 5, 299
Varro 671, 677, 801
Thrasyllus 339, 544
Varro of Atax 752
Thrasymachus 357, 526, 591
Vergil 151, 682, 722, 726, 734 f., 754, 756,
Threnos, v. Dirge
814
Thucydides 82, 85, 122, I1$%, 218, 221,
Vespasian 829
408, 320, 325; 327, 353, 363, 378 4, Vettius Valens 833
426 £., 453, 455-483, 589, 597, 607, Vitruvius 485
619 f., 623 ff., 626, 642, 775 £., 824, 831,
848, 850 f.
Thucydides, son of Melesias 452 £., 456, Warfare, authors on 629, 782, 892
586 Wolf, Friedrich August 34, 36
Timaeus of Locri 798 Work-songs 107
Timacus of Tauromenium 744, 771 f.,
774 £., 778, 780 Xanthus, author of an Oresteia 151
Timagenes of Alexandria 778 Xanthus of Sardes 221, 318
Timagetus, geographer 773 Xenarchus, mime-poet 514
Timocles, comic poet 634 Xenocrates 506, §40, 543, $49, 551, 685,
Timocreon of Ialysus 185, 206, 452 822, 878
Timon of Phlius 208, 671 f., 751, 795 Xenocritus of Locri 148, 151
Timonides of Leucas 629 Xenodamus of Cythera 148
Timotheus, son of Conon 590 Xenomedes of Ceos 332, 713
Timotheus of Miletus 2, 363, 395, 403, Xenophanes of Colophon 166, 201, 208-
414, 415 £., 809 200; 213, 207, 320, 340, 382, 411,072:
‘Tisias 351, 592 78
Titanomachia 79, 106 Xenophilus 770
Tragedy, early history of 129 f., 205, 223- Xenophon 109, 348, 494-496, 504, 616-
233, 786 624, 626, 769, 847 f.
— meaning of the term 225 f. — Agesilaus 620 f., 691
— nature of 73, 249, 253, 264, 279 f., — Anabasis 236 f., 495, 617, 618, 620
288, 290, 386 f., 400, 570 f. — Apology 494, 499, 623
— Sstate-copy 2, 611 — PAO valor ToAtreia] 452-455, 620
— transmission 3 — Cynegeticus 621
Trajan 808, 816, 820, 834, 864, 893 — Cyropaedia 503, 620 f., 691, 859
Triclinius 5, 268, 299 — Hellenica 499, 617 f., 619 f.
Trilogy 244 f.,, 250, 252 f., 256, 274 f., — Hiero 185, 623
382 — Hipparchicus 621
Triphiodorus 815 f., 818 = ANakedurpoviwy ToAtreia 620 f,
Troy 20f., 201 1,781 — [Letters] 623
Trygodia 235 — Memorabilia 354, 494 f., 497 f., 500,
Tryphon of Alexandria 788, 854 622 f.
Tiibingen theosophy 802 — Oeconomicus 494, 622
Tyche 201, 387, 389 £,, 479, 659 f., 777, — On Riding 621
821 — Poroe 599, 617, 620
920
 INDEX
Xenophon, Symposium 329, 424, 494, 623 | Zeus 66, 69, 94, 98 f., 100, 102, 116, 124 f.,
Xenophon ofEphesus 863 f., 864 TQ 7oN LOO, 100.200, 204, 212.2048
S42 T., 2401. 25t, 254 f,, 2566, 262,
Zeno ofElea 211, 513, $32 f., 673 263, 284, 287, 346, 383, 391, 419, 439,
Zeno of Cition 672 f., 675, 677 $36, 635, 638, 674, 705 f., 726, 752, 760,
Zeno of Pergamum 673 762, 781, 800, 817, 840
Zeno of Sidon 682 Zoilus of Amphipolis 572, 591
Zenodotus of Ephesus 74, 76, 701, 702 f., | Zosimus, historian 852
729, 785 Zosimus, Life of Demosthenes 596

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