2009.01.35

Carlo Scardino, Gestaltung und Funktion der Reden bei Herodot und Thukydides. Beiträge zur Altertumskunde, Bd. 250. Berlin: Walter De Gruyter, 2007. Pp. xi, 858.. €148.00.
Reviewed by Edith Foster, Kenyon College (fostere@kenyon.edu)

In this astonishingly ambitious book Carlo Scardino (S.) undertakes a close reading and comparison of the speeches in books seven through nine of Herodotus and books six and seven of Thucydides. His method is to describe each historian's speeches in narrative context, and on the basis of this description to analyze their functions and rhetorical structure. Finally, he compares his analysis of the speeches in Herodotus to his analysis of the speeches in Thucydides. S.'s determination to maintain continuous contact with the narrative context of the speeches determines the character of his descriptions of the texts, which resemble commentaries. Hardly enough good things could be said about these commentaries and the resulting analyses: over hundreds of pages S. balances perceptive reading with respect for each historian's particular choices and careful reflection on copiously cited scholarship. The outcome is that S. establishes a description of the historians' relationship to one another that is unprecedented in its comprehensiveness.

The introduction begins with a comparison between modern and ancient historiography. This comparison frames the work: S. returns to it at the very end (769-790). For the introduction S. reminds us that modern historical writing rejects the ancient format, in which the historian composes speeches for his characters and historical events are focalized through perspectives other than the narrator's, which is only rarely explicit (1-2). He provides a review of ancient criticism of the speeches which shows that in antiquity the speeches in historical works were taken for granted, and were analyzed for their rhetorical qualities, not their historiographical values (3-6). A review of the modern scholarship, on the other hand, shows our developing appreciation for both the historiographical and artistic values of the historians' speeches (6-26). No overarching analysis and comparison of the speeches had been attempted, however, until S. undertook his monumental work.

The second section of the introduction is devoted to Aristotle and Homer. To begin, S. outlines the view of history taken in Aristotle's Poetics, and establishes his differences from this view: S. will show that Herodotus and Thucydides resemble Aristotle's poets as much as his historians (34-35, cf. 58-59). Next, S. provides an outline of narratological method, justifying his use of this method by reference to the fact that the historians composed works characterized by techniques learned from fictional writing (36-46). To found this description of the historians S. delineates Homer's central importance for their speeches. The three main functions of the speeches, namely: to dramatize the events, to characterize the speaker (who is an historical agent) according to type, and to interpret and comment on events at the level of the fabula, originated in Homer and were adopted by the historians. Given this fundamental similarity between the two historians, S. sets out to discover what the differences between them may be, and what conceptual and rhetorical bases determine those differences (59).

S. begins his examination of Herodotus with a review of the first sentence of the Histories that isolates Herodotus' main interests (the spatium humanum, and particularly the great deeds performed in this arena, the analysis of conflict and of the responsibility for the war, 64), and continues by describing the corresponding structure of Herodotean narrative: "The structure of the narrative is in its foundation always the same: after an often modest beginning and successful growth the insatiable impulse to conquest brings it about that the (oriental) monarch at the height of his power attacks a comparatively poor but defensible people, and loses" (66).

Over the next ten pages (67-77) S. provides a chart that records the plot and shows the placement and main themes of all direct speeches in the text. The chart demonstrates the unity of Herodotus (80), and constitutes a defense of the historian; in the subsequent sections S. describes and defends Herodotus' historiographical method, including his ordering of material (82-83) and use of evidence, despite its well-known problems, as essentially "serious, reliable, and non-partisan" (86).

Finally, S. addresses the question of human and divine causation in Herodotus. S. argues that the divine constitutes "the strongest determinant" in Herodotus (101), but that parallel causes remain very important. In particular, and consistent with his explanations of the structure of the Histories, he argues that in Herodotus "since the human pursuit of power and property is hardly possible to avoid, a necessary process of history results (103)." The injustices that arise from this pursuit are corrected in the human, or if not, in the divine sphere (104-105). Regardless of whether divine or human forces act as a corrective, the process of justice in the world can be verified through empirical observation, i.e. ἱστορία (102).

This description of Herodotus' particular themes and world view is followed by discussions of more formal concerns: general characteristics of Herodotus' style (109-110), the complexity of the Herodotean narrator, and the role of speeches in indirect discourse (111-116) are described before S. undertakes to characterize the direct speeches.

It is actually surprising how little of Herodotus is devoted to speeches: about 18% of the entire Herodotean text is comprised of direct speeches, the portion of the text devoted to speeches being greatest in the final books, where it is closer to 25% (117). (By contrast, about 50% of the Iliad is composed of direct speeches, cf. 47.) The general character of these speeches will be familiar to Herodotus' readers. Speakers are not distinguished from one another through their style, but the style of the speeches is in general more elaborate than that of the narrative (118). Speeches occur in pairs and larger groupings (119-120), and are without exception the product of free invention (124).

By contrast to the introduction we have just reviewed, in which very large topics were introduced and summarized, the description of Herodotus' last three books (126-318) is detailed and specific. Descriptions of clauses and sentences construct the descriptions of the speeches and groups of speeches, each of which is treated with a short interim analysis as S. moves through the selected material. Narratological terminology is almost completely absent: the description relies on ancient rhetorical terms for its categories. The sound of phrases and sentences is frequently noted.

The analysis follows the description. Drawing together all of his examples, S. argues that his initial characterization of the complexity of the Herodotean narrator (326-331) and the role of indirect discourse in Herodotus (332-335) were justified, and shows that Herodotus' speeches fulfill the three Homeric functions (dramatization of events, characterization of speakers, and development of motifs that enable interpretation of the text). Of these the first two seem straightforward, and the last is most important for the comparison to Thucydides. In his analysis S. argues that "the direct speeches reveal to the recipient a polyphonic network of suggested meanings and frameworks for interpretation" (350). This network is constructed, in his view, through the use of recurring motifs that "transcend the specific situation" (350). These motifs sometimes correspond to words (νόμος, for instance), and sometimes to themes, such as envy, the justice of the gods, glory and honor, etc. that are referenced with a variety of words. They also correspond to rhetorical practices, such as the practice of offering interpretations of the past that intend to instruct us for the future, or of referring to difficulties of communication. Key to reader reception of these motifs is their repetition by different speakers in different situations, since this problematizes a simple or one-sided understanding and in this way draws us into the interpretation of events. In the closing section of his analysis S. explains a large variety of such motifs and demonstrates their development in the speeches he has discussed. For a list of motifs S. isolates as common to Herodotus and Thucydides, see footnote one.

The dumbfounded reader now turns to what is essentially another entire book, since S. gives Thucydides the same full treatment as he shows to Herodotus. S. begins his introduction to Thucydides by describing the Archaeology and its aims (to show the growth of power, 384). He pauses on Thucydides' statement of the causes of the war (Spartan fear, 385), and then offers a chart of the whole text, marking all direct speeches (387-394). After this S. reviews the debate of the analysts and unitarians (394-399; conclusion: we cannot tell where and how much Thucydides revised his work, 399), and provides an overview of Thucydides' historical method and use of evidence. On pages 402-416, S. discusses chapter 22, book one of Thucydides, which contains both Thucydides' statement of his divergent treatment of speeches and the narrative of events and also his statement of the utility of his work. Scholarly support is massive throughout, and S. maintains moderate views, while giving his opponents frequent opportunities to speak for themselves.

S. next discusses Thucydides' philosophy of history, and main theme ("The question of the nature and management of power, in particular its manifestation in Athenian "imperialism"...whereby the war gradually dissolves the ethical categories valid in peacetime", 418). His remarks on the centrality of the unchanging human condition for Thucydides' writing, in which the "reduction of reality to rationally intelligible patterns" leads to "stripping events of their temporal particularity"("eine Entzeitlichung des Geschehens" 425), argue that Thucydides' diagnoses, like medical diagnoses, apply to all potential readers. The ensuing argument takes note of Thucydides' didactic aims (426), and introduces some main teachings on topics such as the helplessness of hope and power of chance, rationality, military virtue, crowd psychology, and political leadership (432-440).

S. then addresses Thucydides' style and the structure of his narrative, discussing Thucydides' advertised adoption of chronological order, and the structural relation between the speeches and the narrative: in fact, thematic and didactic priorities determine the rhythm of the presentation (441-444). S. shows that Thucydides' narrator disappears to an extent not as evident in Herodotus, and addresses narrator interventions, internal focalizers, and speeches in indirect discourse (444-449) before providing a formal description of Thucydides' style (450-452).

This introduction accomplished, S. can turn to the speeches themselves, as he did for Herodotus. Twenty to twenty-five percent of Thucydides' text is composed of direct speeches (453). After discussing the speech frames (i.e. the narrator's introductory and closing remarks to direct speeches, 454-455), and the prominence of speech pairs in Thucydides (as opposed to the looser, more conversational organizations favored by Herodotus 456-457), S. broaches a description of the functions of Thucydides' speeches: the dramatizing and characterizing functions remain similar to those in Homer and Herodotus. An intensification of the third function is visible, however: "Most important is the function [of the direct speeches] as an unmitigated dramatic, analytic, and implicitly interpretive commentary in the place of explicit authorial reflection and interpretation, whereby the opinions expressed by the speaker do not agree with those of the historian, but rather must be brought into relation with narrative connections and authorial statements" (461).

The description of Thucydides' speeches follows (464-648). Once again, we enter the world of specificity; S. is perhaps an even more perceptive reader of Thucydides than of Herodotus: particularly impressive to this reviewer was a short essay on the Melian dialogue (468-483). The subsequent analysis of Thucydides' speeches (648-701) bases itself on the by now familiar Homeric triad of speech functions, clearly laying its weight on the last, or "commentary" function. Just as he did for Herodotus, S. offers a detailed presentation of the commentary function of Thucydides' speeches, reviewing a large number of motifs. The Thucydidean motifs that create "a toolbox for interpreting the events recounted by the narrator" (701) are largely the same motifs as were found in Herodotus' speeches, although important differences do emerge. The most important difference, perhaps, is a conspicuous enlargement in the number of motifs created from abstract terms (675, cf. 685). Again, see footnote one for a list of the motifs S. ultimately draws in to his comparison of the two historians.

The suggestion that Herodotus and Thucydides have such a similar cast of mind will be controversial for many readers. The comparison between the two (702-744) begins with a table showing the similarities between Herodotus' narration of Xerxes' expedition to Greece and Thucydides' narration of the Athenians' expedition to Sicily (702-705). This comparison is not new (cf. 707-709), but is here differentiated, detailed, and comprehensive. Though the parallels between the two narratives are clear, S. does not argue that Thucydides is imitating Herodotus. "The parallels speak less for direct dependence, above all when one takes account of the differences, than for a common intellectual foundation..." (710). He is also not dogmatic in his view that the similarities he has described are more important than the differences he can describe equally well. On the following pages S. clearly and persuasively describes the structural differences between the two narratives (710-711), and then goes on to describe other basic contrasts between the two authors. For Thucydides the human being according to his φύσις is the "exclusive subject and object of history" (713): this causes the fundamental difference to Herodotus. S. also discusses differences between the historians' narrators, their presentation of battle narratives, the status of religion and suffering in their narratives, and their divergent conceptions of the causes of military/political victory and defeat, for example, capping these with a discussion of indirect discourse in the two historians (716-717).

For the direct speeches, however, he argues that the similarities between the historians outweigh their differences (717, cf. 743). The functions of the speeches do show some differences: the dramatizing function of the speeches is less important in Thucydides than in Herodotus (717), whereas characterization of the speaker through characteristic speech (ethopoiesis) is more Thucydidean (718). S. pays most attention to a comparison of the themes ("motifs") of the speeches (723-44), however. Here individual differences and commonalities emerge; the main finding, however, is that Herodotus and Thucydides share many important themes, which they develop in the direct speeches.¹ Furthermore the direct speeches have a common and centrally important function in both historians: the direct speeches "augment authorial commentary and the thoughts expressed in the indirect speeches with detailed argumentation , [that is] the production and discussion of the categories relevant to the actors (most prominently in reference to the topical τελικὰ κεφάλαια), that breaks through the level of the particular and attains the general thanks to the use of gnomai, definitions, and through ana- and prolepses with which they [the speeches] widen the spectrum of possible interpretation..." (752).²

For S. the speeches thus serve a foundational role in enabling interpretation of the text, and not only this, but also in some way define historical writing against other available paths: The speeches "show the restrictions and possibilities of human action and transcend the unique historical situation, but at the same time [and] by contrast to the speculations of contemporary sophists and the fictional world of poetry, guarantee the knowledge they lift to the level of the general with a relation to historically verifiable reality" (752).

Needless to say, S.'s hypothesis about the character and function of thematic development in the speeches will be discussed for some time to come, as S. also suggests it should be (753). To the reader's final amazement, S. finishes his magnum opus with a description of Polybius' treatment of speeches and narratorial authority, which contrasts to that of the classical historians, and with his closing essay on modern historiography, in which he compares the goals and audience of ancient and modern historians. The book is thus a complete and closed form.

Three remarks. First, a small point: Unless I somehow missed this, S.'s many discussions of indirect speech in the historians neglect to mention that any speech expressed in indirect discourse falls under the narrator's direct control (i.e. speeches in indirect discourse record the narrator's selection from the things the speaker said). This control is sometimes made explicit through narratorial interventions, and more frequently emphasized through verbs of speaking and grammatical structures that demonstrate that the speech is being reported. S. remarks for both historians that it is difficult to tell why a speech might be set in indirect, rather than direct discourse (e.g. 334, 659, 717); perhaps a consideration of which speeches the author wishes to subordinate to the narrator's control could be a useful additional aid for considering this question.

Second (another small point), S. argues that in Herodotus no character appears who understands both the compulsions of power and his own desires, and who knows how to control the passions of the people, whereas in Thucydides, Pericles achieves this, by contrast to the leaders who follow him (749-750). This is a difficulty: Herodotus has Solon (cf. e.g. Rengakos 2006), and Thucydides' Pericles is definitely not immune to the allure of power and glory (cf. e.g. Samons 2007).³

Finally, a tentative suggestion about the main point of the book. Scardino has done yeoman's labor in providing a detailed, differentiated, and comprehensive comparison of the two historians in a breadth never before attempted. His book is a watershed publication that will at a single stroke improve the quality of our comparisons of the two historians. His attention to the motifs of the speeches provides much (but definitely not all, as the basic line of comparison to the Homeric paradigm does not rely on this) of his proof for the similarity between the two authors. Clearly, one has a range of such motifs to choose from, and the motifs one chooses to discuss will determine the similarities and differences one describes. S.'s choices struck me as absolutely accurate, but also as representing a perspective on the speeches that privileges abstract and therefore shared motifs. As for abstraction, I missed basic motifs such as polis, παρασκευή, or even navy or wealth. S. frequently mentions these concepts, but they do not rise to the dignity of motifs: yet they are important for constructing precisely the relationship to reality he argues separates poetry and philosophical speculation from historical writing. In my view, therefore, the final analysis of the speeches as Scardino has so responsibly produced it for us represents them as somewhat more abstract than even Thucydides' speeches really are. This could be a problem for readers who do not take into account S.'s entire argument (i.e. description as well as analysis), since abstract concepts in particular may appear to be related when they are considered in general, whereas in context the arguments they undergird may not be as similar as the connections of the extracted concepts suggest. This observation is not to detract from anything S. does say, but to add a perspective and a suggestion.

Notes:

1. Common motifs of speeches in Herodotus and Thucydides: I am providing these motifs untranslated for fear of misrepresenting some concept and its relation to the pertinent Greek words.

Inhaltliche Motive und Argumente der Reden

1. Abstrakte handlungsmotivierende und exegetische Kategorien (e.g. Herodotus: νόμος, ἐλευθερίη, δουλοσύνη; Thucydides: ἀνθρωπεία φύσις, ἀρχή, ἀνάγκη, ἐλευθερία, δουλεία) 2. Gerechte Vergeltung und Verwandtschaft als offizieller Grund (δίκαιον) 3. Die ethnische Zugehoerigkeit und der Volkscharakter 4. Ruhm und Ehre (als καλόν beziehungsweise αἰσχρόν) 5. Der Nutzen (συμφερόν), die Leichtigkeit (ῥᾴδιον) und die Machbarkeit (δυνατόν) 6. Das Thema der Sicherheit (δέλος, ἀσφάλεια) und des Praeventivkriegs 7. Die Tapferkeit und die Kriegskunst 8. Die irrationalen Affekte 9. Die Interpretation der Vergangenheit als Erfahrungsschatz fuer die Zukunft 10. Der Wert der Wohlberatenheit (εὐβουλία) und rationale Elemente 11. Das Problem der Kommunikation 12. Die Uneinigkeit und Zerstrittenheit der Parteien 13. Ueberlegungen zur Verfassung 14. Das Thema der Jugend (ἡ νεότης) 15. Argumentum a persona

2. (The τελικὰ κεφάλαια referred to above are words that directly provide motifs for a speech: e.g. δίκαιον at Thucydides 1.32.)

3. References: Antonios Rengakos, "Thucydides' Narrative: The Epic and Herodotean Heritage," in Brill's Companion to Thucydides, Brill, Leiden and Boston, 2006, and L. J. Samons, "Pericles and Athens," in The Cambridge Companion to the Age of Pericles, Cambridge University Press, New York, 2007. (read complete article)

2009.01.34

Michalis A. Tiverios, Perikleische Panathenäen: Ein Krater des Malers von München 2335. Gutenberg: Computus Druck Satz & Verlag, 2008. Pp. 154. ISBN 9783940598004. €24.90 (pb).
Reviewed by Mary B. Moore, Hunter College, CUNY (mbmoore@mindspring.com)

This book is a translation of the edition in modern Greek which was published in Thessaloniki in 1989 with an English summary which has been retained in the German translation. At some time in the 1970s, fragments of an Attic red-figured calyx-krater were discovered in the ancient part of the modern Greek city of Larissa in Thessaly. For many years it was in a private collection but now it is in the Archaeological Museum at Larissa, inv. no. 86/101. The vase has no archaeological record so what we can learn about it must be gleaned from internal evidence, which turns out to be quite informative. The vase was broken and mended in antiquity indicating it was a valued possession. Its restored height is 37.0 cm; the restored diameter 46.5. Large sections of the rim, body and foot are missing and filled in with plaster. Preliminary sketch is visible here and there and added white was used for the inscriptions as well as for details such as wreaths and fillets.

Tiverios attributed the krater to the Painter of Munich 2335, an uneven artist working during the time of Perikles, and the vase may be dated in the decade 440-430 B. C. The figural decoration is in two friezes on each side of the body, a system called "double-decker." There are four scenes each of them contests well known from the Panathenaic Festival: aulete, aulode, and two foot-races, one of them for men in armor, the other for boys. Tiverios describes these scenes in careful detail so the reader may easily visualize them.

The upper zone on the obverse depicts a flute-playing contest. Only part of the musician dressed in a decorative garment is preserved, but the trace of his bent right elbow makes clear he played the aulos and his position in the scene indicates he stood on a low platform which is typical for these scenes. Behind him a youth inscribed Neokles sits on a klismos, next there is a Doric column, then a flying Nike holding out a hydria that is probably a prize and behind her a bearded man inscribed Ariston sits on a klismos. In front of the musician at the break is another Nike (just her outstretched left hand holding a wreath remains). The lower zone on the obverse shows a foot-race in armor, accompanied by a trumpeter named Sigalos. Of the three runners, only their lower legs and feet are preserved, positioned so it is clear they are running very fast. One of their shields shows part of its device: the leg of a runner similar to its bearer.

The upper frieze on the reverse shows a contest of a singer accompanied by an aulos player, one standing behind the other on a low podium. Behind them is a thin column and a Nike holding a wreath. In front of them a man named Amphikles sits on a klismos holding a stick (it has no finial) and behind him is a standing figure. The scene concludes with a Nike alighting (just a toe touches ground). The lower frieze depicts the end of a race for boys. At the far left is the head of Nike, then a little of a nude youth named Lysikles, to right, who is the winner. Next comes a man in a himation facing him holding a staff. He is inscribed Antiphanes. Behind him is the touching figure of Thrasykles moving away from the scene and whose dejected demeanor indicates he lost the race.

The next chapter focuses on the development of the calyx-krater from its invention around 520 B.C.until the fourth century when it ceased to exist in clay. The earliest preserved example of this shape is still the one found in the 1936 excavations on the North Slope of the Akropolis and attributed to Exekias (the reviewer has often wondered if Exekias signed this vase as potter as he did others that were new shapes or known shapes that he reworked). A very fragmentary calyx-krater also from the North Slope belongs with this one (see Hesperia 9 [1940], pp. 153-158). Tiverios makes the important point that the calyx-krater was created for the symposium because its flaring wall and wide rim allowed the wine to be ladled from it more easily than from the volute-krater or the column-krater. He is right to point out that the psykter and the calyx-krater enter the repertoire of vase shapes at the same time, ca. 530-520 B.C. The psykter held the wine and stood in the calyx-krater which contained the coolant (see p. 153, fig. 32 which depicts a representation of a pyskter in a calyx-krater on a cup in Essen, Folkwang Museum A 169); the two go together. See Klaus Vierneisel "Psykter für kühlen Wein," in Kunst der Schale. Kultur des Trinkens (Munich, 1990), pp. 259-264. Tiverios makes the interesting point that if one has to carry a heavy krater full of wine, the calyx-krater would be awkward, because its handles are placed low on the vase (they attach to the cul). The bell-krater, invented around the same time as the calyx-krater (see Agora 30 [1997], p. 35), with its handles set fairly high on the wall would be an easier transport vase. Then comes a good discussion of the systems of decoration of the calyx-krater. Tiverios notes that its relatively flat wall provided a ready format for trying out different schemes of figural decoration, not just a single frieze of figures, but the double-decker one as well, which he remarks begins in the workshop of the Niobid Painter. This is also the workshop that produced the first example of figures set on multiple ground lines, which occurs on the name vase of the Niobid Painter, Louvre G 341, and afterward becomes quite popular on many different shapes. After charting the general development of the calyx-krater, Tiverios makes some comparisons between Larissa inv. no. 86/101 and contemporary examples that place it in its context, noting that its shape is closest to some by the Phiale Painter and the one in New York by the Persephone Painter, thus dating the Larissa krater ca. 440-430 B.C.

After this section comes the discussion of the Painter of Munich 2335, a fairly well-known artist whose name vase is a neck-amphora and whose style varies considerably ranging from quite good (especially his white ground lekythoi) to hasty and careless. Tiverios cites a great deal of comparanda to justify his attribution of the Larissa krater to this painter and it would take a great deal of time to check all the citations unless one had the advantage of sitting in the Beazley Archive looking through the photographs in the painter's box. But there is no reason to question the attribution, because Tiverios illustrates a few cogent examples that erase any doubt. He then divides the painter's oeuvre into three phases, noting that for each one the artist prefers certain shapes. He places the Larissa krater close to the early work, draws many comparisons with contemporary painters and points out that the Larissa krater is rather eclectic for it does not fit into a nice neat slot. Its particular importance is that it is the only known calyx-krater by the Painter of Munich 2335 decorated in the double-decker system and even more important it is the only one of his vases that bears inscriptions, to which I shall now turn.

This is the most important part of the publication of this vase, because the names of the figures are not names from myth as one would expect but, with two exceptions, they are names in Athens during the time of Perikles. One exception is Sigalos, the trumpeter in the lower zone of the obverse (Tiverios suggests this may be a kind of nickname). The other is Amphikles who is difficult to connect with a known person. Tiverios remarks that Ariston may be the person who was archon in 454/3 and Neokles possibly from the family of Themistokles. Antiphanes may have been the father of a well-known politician who was murdered in 411 B.C. The athletes, Lysikles and Thrasykles, are names found in Attic prosopography, Lysikles perhaps the politician of this name known after the death of Perikles in 429 B.C., and Thrasykles is a name that appears during the Peace of Nikias in 421-15 B.C. Tiverios discusses these names in considerable detail, but is quick to state that there is not enough evidence to conclude they were the persons the Painter of Munich 2335 had in mind when he decorated the Larissa krater. What can be said is that it is unusual to have names of known persons that are not kalos names, so they must have meaning, especially since this is the only known vase by the painter that has the figures inscribed. Furthermore, all the scenes are connected with the Panathenaia, suggesting the painter had in mind an iconographical program. I think Tiverios is correct that this vase was made as a special order for a particular person, but more than that would be speculation. Since there are not many Attic vases found at Larissa, it is tempting to think that the person who commissioned the vase had a personal connection with this city or may even have resided there. Such questions need to be asked, even if there are no certain answers. It is a great pity that the excavation record for this important vase is completely lacking. Details of provenance and ownership might have come to light.

The reviewer has a couple of criticisms. The first is that the bibliography was not brought up to date, except in note 169 where the author cites an article by Alain Pasquier published in 2000 and one by himself that appeared in 2001. This is unfortunate. One book that should have been referred to is Haritini Kotsidu, Die musische Agone der Panathenäen in archaischer und klassischer Zeit. Eine historisch-archäologische Untersuchung, Munich 1991. For Agora P 27349, a one-piece amphora in the manner of the Peleus Painter mentioned in note 9 on p. 21, see Agora 30 (1997), p. 135, no. 8, pl. 5 with comparanda. The pseudo-Panathenaic amphora cited in note 97 (published by Dietrich von Bothmer in Antike Kunst 30 [1987], pp. 64-65, pl. 9, 1-2) and again in note 131 as on loan to the Metropolitan Museum is now in its permanent collection, 1989.28.89 (see MMA Journal 42 [2007], pp. 34-36, figs. 23-24).

A more serious criticism is the poor quality of the illustrations -- they are the same ones that appeared in the Greek edition of this book. All are in black and white (except for the front and back covers), rather washed out (a better adjective would be tired-looking), fragments and whole vases are contoured instead of depicted against a slightly contrasting background, and the four illustrations of the whole vase do not fill the space available. This vase deserves a better pictorial presentation especially given all the excellent scholarly work that went into the text. In this day and age of superb digital color photography, there is no excuse for such a poor presentation of this important vase. (read complete article)

2009.01.33

Tim Whitmarsh, Ancient Greek Literature. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2004. Pp. viii, 284. ISBN 0-74 56-2792-7. $24.95 (pb).
Reviewed by Yun Lee Too, New York (yunleetoo@yahoo.com)

Tim Whitmarsh's Ancient Greek Literature has been published by Polity Press in a series entitled 'Cultural History of Literature'. Polity for the most part chooses to do textbooks, and this book is aimed at university undergraduates and, appropriately, all Greek passages are translated for accessibility. (But I want to add that the book I am reviewing is very suited for Greeked readers too.) The series 'Cultural History of Literature' lists Whitmarsh with such texts as Hallamore Caesar and Caesar's Modern Italian Literature, Sandra Clark's Renaissance Drama, Diane Watt's Medieval Women's Writing, Thomas Cartelli and Katharine Rowe's New Wave Shakespeare on Screen, Tim Armstrong's Modernism and Scott Warren's Early Modern Literature. Also included in this series are works on science fiction, romance and detective fiction. We are told this is a 'cutting-edge list in literary studies and cultural theory' by British and North American scholars. As Ancient Greek Literature is the only work on classics, and certainly on Greek literature, in the series and in the Polity list, it strongly signifies a break from the mainstream or run-of-the-mill.

I suggest that the book is indeed cutting edge or on the forefront of Greek literature studies and, as such, it is representative of the classics tripos at Cambridge University (where incidentally TW and I both studied and had research fellowships in the 1990s). In his preface TW denies a chronological structure to his work in favour of themes and topics that cluster around literary texts, albeit chapters 1 to 9 proceed rather chronologically around the various genres. This is what I describe as the diachronic approach in the book. Chapters 10 to 13 read Greek literature synchronically, ordering the discussion around very current topics that seek to demonstrate that the literature we are calling 'Greek' was always in contest in a way that we might find very relevant and engaging today.

The first two chapters, titled 'Concepts', set the book up to be a history of Greek literature. Chapter 1, 'Greek Literature and Cultural History', effectively locates the current book in the Polity series 'Cultural History of Literature'. It acknowledges that literature and the leisure it implies are modern concepts; the ancients texts, were far more functional as the world was a much harsher place that did not tolerate so easily the luxury of literature. TW is aware that he is reading Greek literature from a position that may be quite distinct from the Greeks, and to indicate this he raises as questions: what is a text? what is a canon? why do we periodize as do (say between 'ancient' and 'Hellenistic')? what about the role of politics in constructions of classics, particularly Greek? Overall, TW is concerned with the different forms of labour that go into canon-formation. In chapter 2 TW looks at what has become the problem of tradition. He considers Homer established as the founder of the tradition in antiquity, one that is other than uniform: Homer was allegorized; Homer was a text about Greeks and barbarians; it was 'contaminated' in its textual tradition; and it is a translated text. So we are to transpose the problem with reading Homer to all of Greek literature.

The next section of the book is called 'Contexts' and it contains the chronological reading of Greek literature. Chapter 3, entitled 'Festival', looks at the the texts of Homer and Hesiod and their performance at public festivals. TW covers the major issues associated with these texts, namely their composition, the representation and struggle over power and the physical body. Chapter 4, the 'Symposium', addresses the role of food and drink and the literature associated with them, the symposiastic poem, in ancient Greek society. Friendship and order in society are topics identified for discussion. Tragedy, which is generally a major part of classics education, is the focus of the next chapter, 'Theatre'. Here we turn specifically to Athens to think about the representation of politics in the city, war with the 'other' and the psychological dimension of tragedy, as present in Euripides' Hippolytus. There is some attention given to comic writing and the plays of Aristophanes at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 6, 'The Power of Speech', considers oratory and the representation of the speechwriters and the city through oratory. TW looks at strategies of self-characterization that (probably) result in one winning the argument. He turns particular attention to Lysias 1, Against Eratosthenes, a speech familiar to those who have taken or taught the Cambridge classics tripos and the rhetoric paper. TW has us look at the rhetorical strategy of the speech and the defendant's depiction of himself. Then he turns briefly to consider Socrates and his use of the spoken word. The 'Archive', the monumentalizing impulse in literature, is the theme of the following three chapters. 'Inventing the Archive: Athens' reads prose in particular, examining Herodotus as an author who presents causes, rather than a cause, for things and who writes from a cultural relativist perspective and Thucydides as one who aspires to write the truth as a possession for eternity. The following chapter, 'Building the Archive: Hellenistic Alexandria', treats the library and the museum in the Greek outpost of Northern Africa. The game has changed and here TW looks at the literature written by the knowing elite for the knowing elite rather than the democratic mass. Authors like Callimachus rewrite the past for the present through aetiology, and authors seek the patronage of the Ptolemies while still writing for the public. The chapter is very informative on an area that may be less familiar to students of Greek literature.

Chapter 9, 'Reading from the Archive: Roman Greece', demonstrates TW at his best, not suprisingly because this material is his area of specialty (cf. Whitmarsh, Greek Literature and Roman Empire: The Politics of Imitation Oxford, 2001). The author introduces this chapter with very informative background about the relationship of Rome and Greece in the early empire and with an important discussion of paideia as a means of distinction (cf. Bourdieu) in society. Education legitimizes social stratification in this, and I would argue, any world. He then proceeds to treat the Second Sophistic, travel and the ancient novel.

Part III of the book is entitled 'Conflicts'. It considers topics across the range TW calls Greek literature rather than by genre and provides the audience with some of the most insightful readings. Chapter 10, titled 'Inventing the Greek: Cultural Identity', considers what 'Greek' is, looking at texts from Homer, Hesiod and Herodotus amongst others. 'Greek' is a contested term and TW recognizes this, drawing notions of territory (pp. 169-72), festival (p. 173) and paideia (p. 176) back into play. The following chapter, 'A Woman's Place', recognizes that the book has been concerned for the most part with male identities and now turns to considering Helen as a traveling figure, Sappho as a reader of Homer, and women in tragedy and comedy. TW notes a change in the representation of women beginning in the Hellenistic period and in the novel with a greater emphasis in the depiction of female subjectivity. Chapter 12 is 'Sexing the Text' and considers desires of various forms, including the same-sex desire of Sappho. Chapter 13, 'Status and Slavery', considers how social status give certain individuals a voice in society and other individuals a lack of speech up to the classical period. It also looks at slaves in comedy and the slave in philosophical writing in the case of Epictetus. This chapter ends this excellent volume, and it concludes with some reflections on the 'Invention of Literature', revisiting the roles of class and identity in this process.

TW includes end notes and a substantial bibliography in his book.

Ancient Greek Literature is an intelligent and stimulating book for undergraduates and also for scholars, who sometimes need to see again the forest for the trees. TW puts his finger nicely on the issues that matter in reading Greek literature and succeeds well in presenting this huge corpus of material succinctly in around two hundred pages. This is a precise and excellent presentation that will enrich any undergraduate's course of study in Greek writing. (read complete article)

2009.01.32

Jeffrey Henderson (trans.), Aristophanes: Frogs. Translation with Introduction and Notes. Focus Classical Library. Newburyport, MA: Focus Publishing, 2008. Pp. 107. ISBN 9781585103089. $9.95 (pb).
Reviewed by Erin K. Moodie, The Ohio State University (emoodie@gmail.com)

Henderson has produced a charming translation of one of Aristophanes' most beloved plays. Although for the most part identical to the translation in his 2002 Loeb edition, the Focus Classical Library version will be useful for Greekless readers (undergraduates or general audiences) who will not require the Greek text or appreciate the higher cost of the Loeb edition.¹ Henderson's detailed introduction in particular will be quite valuable for undergraduate or general readers as well.

Henderson's introduction includes brief and clear discussions of many topics that provide the reader with general knowledge about the poet, the play, and the context in which it was performed. Discussion topics include Aristophanes' (limited) biography, the festival context of Aristophanic performance at the Greater Dionysia and Lenaia, as well as common subjects and themes of Old Comedy. Henderson also describes how the plays were produced and paid for, and discusses the derivation of κωμωιδία from κῶμος--although all Greek has been transliterated in the text. He continues by covering the role and purpose of Old Comedy, presenting the figure of the comic hero, and describing comic poets' freedom of speech and its limits. A section on the specifics of comedic performance discusses the lack of stage directions or designation of speakers in the Greek text, the masking and costuming traditions of the male actors, the number of actors and chorus members involved in a performance, as well as the stage area itself. Henderson includes a diagram of the fourth century B.C.E. Theater of Dionysus, which gives the reader an idea of the performance location although one not strictly appropriate for Aristophanes' plays. After discussing the structure of most Old Comedies and that of the Frogs in particular, Henderson turns to the political and literary performance context of the Frogs. He provides a plot summary of the comedy, gives a brief history of Dionysus' appearances on stage, and discusses the Frogs as an early example of literary criticism. Finally, Henderson ends by discussing his own translation style--to go line-by-line and to translate Aristophanes' obscenities properly (i.e., obscenely). Henderson has used the Greek text from his 2002 Loeb edition, but has incorporated some of the emendations made by Wilson in his 2007 Oxford Classical Text.² The introduction is followed by a good, up-to-date (2007 and 2008) beginning bibliography, which is divided into sections on the Frogs, Aristophanic comedy, and Attic Comedy in general. The introduction in large part reproduces the general introduction to Henderson's Focus Classical Library translation of Aristophanes' Birds from 1999 and the introduction to the Frogs in Henderson's 2002 Loeb edition. The translation of the Frogs itself seems to be a slightly revised (i.e., more colloquial) version of Henderson's Loeb translation.

In addition to the comprehensive introduction, Henderson has also provided the reader with many explanatory footnotes. These notes offer pertinent information on the many people mentioned in the play, on general aspects of Greek culture, or on the original source for Aristophanes' many quotations and parodies. (And, I would argue, offering such remarks in footnotes is particularly helpful, since students may not go to the trouble of looking up the information in endnotes.) The footnotes are so comprehensive that one even remarks that lines 1206-8 (deriving from Euripides' Archelaus) preserve the original text of the tragedy before it had been altered by Euripides or even by the actors in a re-performance--it seems that these lines did not appear in the version of the play studied by ancient scholars of tragedy. Overall, I enjoyed Henderson's translation--he employs lofty, tragic language when appropriate, but has also produced appealing translations of some quintessentially Aristophanic comic moments. These lines in particular occasioned a chuckle as I read: e.g., "bubbly ploppifications" (for πομφολυγοπαφλάσμασιν, line 249), "My butt runneth over; let us pray" (for ἐγκέχοδα. Κάλει θεόν, line 479), "massy Parnassus" (for Παρνασσῶν μεγέθη, line 1057), and "you fool for folderol" (for ὦ κατεστωμυλμένε ἄνθρωπε, lines 1160-1).

I have only a few minor quibbles with some of Henderson's translation choices. The first is the translation of φέρειν (line 12 and 15) as "to hump." While the term does combine the sense of "lugging around on one's back" with Aristophanes' own propensity for obscenity, I worry that today's undergraduate will not understand the word in its non-obscene sense. Next, Henderson's "Nonsense, my good woman, and ignorant of the facts" (lines 555-6) seems either ungrammatical or excessively loose for the Greek ληρεῖς, ὦ γύναι, κοὐκ οἶσθ̓ ὅ τι λέγεις. In addition, I found Henderson's explanation of lines 1437-53 to be less clear than his explanation of the same in his Loeb edition. Similarly, only in his Loeb does Henderson make clear that he is following Sommerstein's re-ordering of lines 1437-53 into two possible answers by Euripides. Furthermore, the lack of horizontal lines separating the possible answers in the Focus Classical Library translation (they appear in his Loeb edition) makes the translation quite confusing at this point.

Finally, typographical errors are relatively frequent in such a small book. I found examples of missing words or punctuation ("They were credited with pioneering poetic styles invective, obscenity and colloquialism," p. 6); lack of capitalization at the start of a sentence ("brekekekex," p. 37); and lack of bold face type to indicate a change of speaker (Euripides p. 73, Aeschylus p. 76). There are also several places where a word or two seems to have dropped out during the type-setting process: "its members impersonated a mixed (male and female, and perhaps young and old) initiates of the Eleusinian Mysteries" (p. 6) and "Now each of pray before you say your piece" (p. 72). Some errors, such as the first error from p. 6, reproduce the errors in earlier versions of introductions to Henderson's translations of Aristophanic comedy.

Overall, however, I find this translation of the Frogs to be entertaining and very readable. Furthermore, Henderson's comprehensive introduction makes this translation quite useful for general readers or students at any level.

Notes:

1. Jeffrey Henderson (ed.), Aristophanes : Frogs, Assemblywomen, Wealth. Loeb Classical Library 180. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2002.

2. N.G. Wilson (ed.), Aristophanis : Fabulae I. Oxford Classical Texts. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. (read complete article)

2009.01.31

Cristina D'Ancona Costa (ed.), The Libraries of the Neoplatonists. Proceedings of the Meeting of the European Science Foundation Network "Late Antiquity and Arabic Thought: Patterns in the Constitution of European Culture", Strasbourg, March 12-14, 2004. Philosophia antiqua, v. 107. Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2007. Pp. xxxvi, 531. ISBN 9789004156418. $199.00.
Reviewed by Christophe F. Erismann, University of Cambridge (ce271@cam.ac.uk)

[Authors and titles are listed at the end of the review.]

The Neoplatonists held a central role in the transmission and survival of philosophical texts from Greek Antiquity. As interestingly established by Richard Goulet in one of the articles in this book, the texts which are conserved to the present day in direct tradition are those which were read and commented upon in the Neoplatonic school from the fourth to the sixth century, or which set out its doctrine, to the quasi systematic exclusion of other schools of thought. Plato, Aristotle and their commentators constitute almost the entire corpus of philosophical texts which is extant from Antiquity in direct tradition. The French scholar estimates at 4% the proportion of philosophical texts which are extant and do not belong to this Platonic-Peripatetic mainstream. Philosophical currents such as Stoicism or Epicureanism are almost all completely lost in direct tradition, despite the large number of their texts (for example, according to Diogenes Laertius (VII, 180), Chrysippus wrote more than 705 books, yet none are extant), let alone the writings of the Pre-Socratic philosophers. This fact amply justifies the interest which can be taken in the role of Neoplatonic scholars in the circulation and conservation of the written heritage of Greek philosophy, which the present volume proposes to study.

This book, which comprises 27 contributions previously presented as conference papers, has two purported aims, which correspond to the two main parts of the volume. The first is to study the "late ancient version of Greek classical thought" through the study of the conditions of circulation of the written heritage of Greek philosophy. The second is to analyse "the influence of Greek philosophy on the culture issuing from the Qur'an" (Introduction, p. xiii), by highlighting that the Greek heritage became available to Arab readers mostly in the form it was given by the schools of late Antiquity. The result is a disparate collection of detail studies, some of which are excellent, that provide useful information on the history of texts and their transmission. In this volume, an approach based on the history of texts and of manuscripts is favoured over the history and analysis of concepts, arguments and problems.

Exegesis is an essential feature of Neoplatonic thought in late Antiquity and the explanation of texts was central to the course of study of the Neoplatonic schools. Philippe Hoffmann highlights well in his article how the exegetical practice of the Neoplatonists is articulated with a certain conception of philosophy. Exegesis itself produces doctrines and involves constant recourse to the physical objects that are books, the written support of doctrines. Philosophical activity, as understood by the Neoplatonists, implies the conservation of collections of books, and notably of authorities.

One of the strengths of the book is that it highlights the importance of the so-called Philosophical collection, a set of Byzantine manuscripts containing philosophical texts, mostly related to the Neoplatonic tradition. It is an essential intermediary in the process of transmission of philosophical texts from Antiquity, so essential that, according to Richard Goulet, without it "we would only have kept from ancient philosophy a very small corpus of texts, maybe Aristotle's Organon, as is the case in several eastern traditions" (p. 54, translation is mine). This set of 17 Greek manuscripts which present similar codicological and palaeographical characteristics, comes from a copying centre which is considered to have been situated in Constantinople around 850. It comprises nothing less than: Plato's dialogues, the De anima, the De fato and Quaestiones of Alexander of Aphrodisias, the Didaskalikos of Alkinoos, the Dissertations of Maximus of Tyre, the treatises of Plotinus, the commentaries on the Republic and the Timaeus of Proclus, the commentary on the Parmenides and the treatise De primis principiis of Damascius, the commentaries on the Physics and the Categories by Simplicius, the commentaries on the Gorgias, the Phaedrus, and the Alcibiades by Olympiodorus, the treatise Contra Proclum de aeternitate mundi by John Philoponus, the commentary on the De interpretatione by Ammonius, the De caelo, the De generatione et corruptione, the History of animals, the Metaphysics, the Meteorology and the Physics of Aristotle, as well as Patristic texts and geographical and astrological writings. The "Platonic" nucleus of the Philosophical collection is probably made up of copies of remnants of the library of the philosophical school of Alexandria which had been brought from Alexandria to Constantinople at a date impossible to state precisely, but probably falling between the beginning of the seventh century and the beginning of the ninth century, as has been suggested by L. G. Westerink.

Henri Dominique Saffrey proposes, in an insightful essay, a study of one of the manuscripts of the Philosophical collection, the Parisinus graecus 1807 which contains among other things tetralogies VIII (Clitophon, Republic, Timaeus, Critias) and IX (Minos, Laws, Epinomis, Letters) of Plato, with the Definitions and the Spuria. It is the manuscript A for Plato, made around 850, the model of which went from Alexandria to Byzantium, and which travelled from Byzantium to Armenia, and then to the library of Francesco Petrarca.

Guglielmo Cavallo, Philippe Hoffman and Didier Marcotte provide remarks which complete this study of the Philosophical collection. The textual tradition of Syrianus' commentary on the Metaphysics and the influence of Neoplatonists on Byzantine thought are also studied. The second part of the book contains studies on the dissemination of Neoplatonic texts in the Syriac-speaking and Arabic-speaking areas. Henri Hugonnard-Roche provides a useful synthesis article on Syriac philosophical literature in the sixth and seventh centuries. As to the Arabic tradition, the influence of Neoplatonism during the Abbasid period, in particular on al-Kindi (P. Adamson, G. Endress), the presence of Proclus, and the proximity between sixth-century Alexandrian commentators and the Baghdad Aristotelian Ibn al-Tayyib are considered.

It is not possible in the limits of this review to consider each contribution. We may however express an observation, a regret and a criticism.

This may be inevitable, given the nature of the subject, but a reader hungry for philosophy may feel a little frustrated. The pre-eminence of the historical and material aspects of the transmission of texts over their content, as well as the priority given to common textual formulae over shared philosophical theses, leads unavoidably to a lack of doctrinal considerations. While separating the study of the transmission of texts from the history of concepts has the advantage of highlighting the often neglected material aspect of the history of texts, it has the disadvantage that it offers quite an un-philosophical history of Neoplatonism.

The relative lack of questioning regarding the Neoplatonic intellectual project is regrettable. The transmission of texts, their arrangement into a course of study with a precise order, and the constitution of an exegesis were part of an intellectual project. It is unfortunate that the connection between the work of collection, conservation and transmission of texts by the Neoplatonists -- of which some aspects are well studied in this volume -- and the study of the curriculum and the philosophy of exegesis developed in the Neoplatonic school, and even the project of harmonisation of the philosophies of Plato and Aristotle, is not better highlighted. The phenomenon of the transmission of texts would then be illuminated by some of the reasons which motivated it.

The part of the book dedicated to the non-Greek traditions raises a methodological question. Even if we must assess a book on what is contains (in this case, the welcome study of the Arabic and, more briefly, of the Syriac, Armenian and Hebrew traditions) more than on what it should contain, I would like to note the absence of any consideration of the Latin world. This gives an unbalanced view of the transmission of Greek philosophical texts in late Antiquity, because a notable part of the Latin history of this transmission is contemporary to the authors discussed in the book. Did Boethius or Marius Victorinus not play any role in the transmission of classical Greek philosophy during late Antiquity? At least an explanation for the highly debatable choice of excluding the Latin tradition while taking into consideration almost all the others should have been included.

Cristina d'Ancona, "The Libraries of the Neoplatonists. An Introduction"

Part One
Plato, Aristotle and their Neoplatonic Readings: the Greek Tradition

Henri Dominique Saffrey, "Retour sur le Parisinus graecus 1807, le manuscrit A de Platon"
Richard Goulet, "La conservation et la transmission des textes philosophiques grecs"
Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé, "Deux traités plotiniens chez Eusèbe de Césarée"
Burkhard Reis, "Curricula vix mutantur. Zur Vorgeschichte der neuplatonischen Lektüreprogramme"
Concetta Luna, "Mise en page et transmission textuelle du commentaire de Syrianus sur la Métaphysique"
Philippe Hoffmann, "Les bibliothèques philosophiques d'après le témoignage de la littérature néoplatonicienne des Ve et VIe siècles"
Guglielmo Cavallo, "Qualche riflessione sulla 'collezione filosofica'"
Didier Marcotte, "Le corpus géographique de Heidelberg (Palat. Heidelb. gr. 398) et les origines de la 'collection philosophique'"
Michel Cacouros, "Survie culturelle et rémanence textuelle du néoplatonisme à Byzance. Éléments généraux, éléments portant sur la logique"
Eudoxie Delli, "Entre compilation et originalité. Le corps pneumatique dans l'oeuvre de Michel Psellos"
Aris Papamanolakis, "L'échelle néoplatonicienne des vertus chez Psellus et chez Eustrate de Nicée"
Pantélis Golitsis, "Nicéphore Blemmyde lecteur du commentaire de Simplicius à la Physique d'Aristote"

Part Two
The Transmission of Texts and the Creation of the Philosophical Corpus in Armenian, Syriac, Arabic and Hebrew

Valentina Calzolari, "Aux origines de la formation du corpus philosophique en Arménie: quelques remarques sur les versions arméniennes des commentaires grecs de David"
Henri Hugonnard-Roche, "Le corpus philosophique syriaque aux VI-VIIe siècles"
Sebastian P. Brock, "A Syriac Intermediary for the Arabic Theology of Aristotle? In Search of a Chimera"
Vittorio Berti, "Libri e biblioteche cristiane nell'Iraq dell'VIII secolo. Una testimonianza dell'epistolario del patriarca siro-orientale Timoteo I (727-823)"
Gehrard Endress, "Building the Library of Arabic Philosophy. Platonism and Aristotelianism in the Sources of al-Kindi"
Peter Adamson, "The Kindian Tradition. The Structure of Philosophy in Arabic Neoplatonism"
Dimitri Gutas, "The Text of the Arabic Plotinus. Prolegomena to a Critical Edition"
Hinrich Biesterfeldt, "Palladius on the Hippocratic Aphorisms"
Meryem Sebti, "Une copie inconnue d'une paraphrase anonyme conservée en arabe du De anima d'Aristote: le MS Ayasofia 4156"
Emily Cottrell, "L'Anonyme d'Oxford (Bodleian Or. Marsh 539): bibliothèque ou commentaire?"
James E. Montgomery, "Al-Gahiz and Hellenizing Philosophy"
Elvira Wakelnig, "Al-'Amiri's Paraphrase of the Proclean Elements of Theology. A Search for Possible Sources and Parallel Texts"
Cleopha Ferrari, "Die Kategorie der Relation in der griechischen und arabischen Aristoteles-Kommentierung"
Daniel De Smet, "Les Bibliothèques ismaéliennes et la question du néoplatonisme ismaélien"
Stephen Harvey, "The Greek Library of the Medieval Jewish Philosophers" (read complete article)

2009.01.30

Cynthia S. Colburn and Maura K. Heyn (edd.), Reading a Dynamic Canvas: Adornment in the Ancient Mediterranean World. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars, 2008. Pp. x, 230. ISBN 9781847184061. £34.99.
Reviewed by Liza Cleland, University of Edinburgh (lizacleland@hotmail.co.uk)

[Authors and titles are listed at the end of the review.]

The legacy of early twentieth-century historical clothing studies is one of authors arguing often about details, while assuming a very great deal about clothing and adornment. Focus on the 'exceptional' (in the absence of systematic understandings relevant to each culture) has done the field few favours. Despite later advances, particularly increasing sophistication of theoretical and cross-cultural analyses, this legacy still casts a long shadow. Therefore, it is heartening to see this volume of essays, which is a valuable attempt to address the peculiar dynamism of adornment as an aspect of material and social culture. It is even better to see overt and carefully considered definition and use of comparative assemblages in doing so, rather than statements on exceptions. Further, the volume as a whole makes useful approaches to reading dress as a subject of art. Though the focus of the essays is tight, this enhances their relevance and utility, rather than detracting in any way from their contributions to the fields of clothing, material culture and wider scholarship. Clear arguments reach interesting conclusions, and in each case context is ably explained for non-specialists.

The slim volume is physically pleasing. The illustrations, though relatively sparse, are well placed, and the text is well produced, with only a few minor typographical errors. The index is effective. I should have preferred a balance between Harvard in-text references and footnotes, rather than the latter alone, and an integrated bibliography, but this is perhaps simply a personal preference. The essays themselves are, without exception, both innovative and carefully argued, and I very much look forward to extended treatments of all the subjects. Overall, the different subjects flow well and complement each other. Both the individual essays, and the subject in general, are ably introduced by Colburn and Heyn's introductory chapter, 'Bodily Adornment and Identity'.

There is no doubt that, as they claim, this volume fills (or rather, begins to do so) a gap in existing scholarship on the cultures of the ancient Mediterranean. This introductory chapter provides a good basic outline of general dress scholarship, as well as the themes explored in the volume. While assessment of the 'dynamic canvas' as less than easily legible is certainly accurate, more attention to the theoretical impossibility of definitive (or singular) readings of adornment would have been welcome. Indeed, this would have gone some way towards elucidating the unique theoretical and methodological challenges claimed (but not described) here. Nevertheless, this chapter is a good introduction, which accurately reflects the content of the volume.

Colburn's 'Exotica and the Body in the Minoan and Mycenaean Worlds' does well in outlining and elaborating upon the flexibility of dress and adornment as means of social construction and communication. The insistence on drawing a major distinction between extant evidence, and adornment in life, is perhaps natural to archaeology (and certainly recurs in these essays) but could well have been addressed as one of the unique challenges of this type of evidence and analysis. After all, evidence of memorialized adornment is better testimony to the conception of adornment by contemporaries (how people in the past addressed this dynamic canvas) than the inherently partial data provided by an ideal 'snapshot' of adornment in use. And there are theoretical problems with the very existence of such an ideal: even now, but certainly in evidence from the past.

Still, this is a minor quibble: this chapter effectively addresses its subject cultures, as well as more general considerations such as the importance of rarity as a signifier, and the potential of adornment to establish connections between cultures at the same time as carrying culture-specific meanings. It also makes valuable points about the capacity for imported technologies and techniques to remain exotic even once 'known'; evoking or symbolizing social memory. More could perhaps have been done to explore the adornment aspect; why was it important that these things were worn, as opposed to other types of display? However, this is probably as much to do with the fact that the argument led me to desire a deeper treatment than afforded by a volume of this size.

Similarly, the premise of Chapin's 'The Lady of the Landscape: An Investigation of Aegean Costuming and the Xeste 3 Frescoes' would be fascinating to see extended. The contention that dress (especially in art) can communicate privileged social status and distinct identity, without necessarily indicating exceptionally high rank, is a rare one. It should certainly be more commonly considered, particularly, as here, in relation to context within artistic programmes or projects. The illustrated typology of garment depictions is most welcome, as is the attention to how dress associates as well as differentiating. The recognition that costume distinctions generally express more than wealth is both refreshing and methodologically valuable. Aegean costuming seems a perennially disputed field: regardless, this argument deserves wide attention.

Guralnick's 'Fabric Patterns as Symbols of Status in the Near East and Early Greece' has a similarly detailed argument, making good use of cross-cultural evidence, and of the analytical potential of depictions of complete hierarchies to illuminate their individual members. There is a very welcome outline of the complexity of fabric techniques, although more on the varied uses of common techniques in different social contexts would have been welcome. Although the comparative material from Early Greece is useful in making this point, it suffers somewhat in the comparison, as its artistic context, and nature as a body of evidence, are so different. Guralnick is quick to call Greek patterns decorative rather than meaningful: I should have preferred a more detailed argument on this point, embracing the programmatic differences between the earlier and later examples used. However, the arguments from the Near Eastern evidence are all one could want.

Castor's 'Grave Garb: Archaic and Classical Macedonian Funerary Costume' engages with the idea of the adorned corpse as 'canvas' (rather than problematic source) and makes some excellent comparisons between the Macedonian material evidence and the Attic artistic corpus. These should invite much further study and thought. Again, the outline of the context for non-specialists is excellent, while the attention to the use of grave assemblages to ascribe gender is welcome. The detailed case study of a grave grouping reflecting ritual status is well considered and very useful. Material like this chapter will be instrumental in moving the study of adornment 'beyond the gleam of gold . . . to explore the changing ways . . . elite[s] signaled their cultural identity and alliances' (p.141).

Gawlinski's '"Fashioning" Initiates: Dress at the Mysteries' effectively introduces the flexibilities of dress. It also makes excellent use of wider material and scholarship to illuminate a specific piece of direct inscriptional evidence, while making important points about the potential of dress and adornment to signal different types of status simultaneously, and of appearance as a visible index (accurate or otherwise) for behaviour. Meanwhile, it also manages to convey the interconnectedness of dress with other forms of culture (e.g. links between lamellae and wreaths, binding and magic). It very usefully emphasizes and integrates the concept of dynamism as fundamental to how adornment can and should be considered as evidence.

Heyn's 'Sacerdotal Activities and Parthian Dress in Roman Palmyra' properly rejects ideas about 'fanciness' as the operative aspect of dress, in favour of its 'complex social situation in a cross cultural world', p. 171. It also makes the valuable point that seeing dress purely in terms of ethnic identity is an equally facile approach. However, it might have been worth exploring how both these 'motives' for dress, actually privilege, and so attract, the outsider perspective of modern scholars. It is often hard, but always valuable, to recognize how little we know: few sources confront us with this as much as dress in art. The close attention here to context, to programmatic features of the assemblage of evidence (funerary reliefs depicting 'banquets') and to specifics rather than blanket generalities, goes a long way towards remedying this.

Finally, Rosten's 'Appearance, Diversity, and Identity in Roman Britain' is an exceptional, detailed examination of different assemblages of extant evidence, and their potential when analysed in logical, consistent, yet creative ways. The emphasis on 'scales of approach', on artifacts as contributory to overall appearance, and on inter-relationships between loss and depository contexts, should make a vast difference to how we consider Roman evidence. This essay counters the persistent tendency to concentrate on one aspect (e.g. regional identity) of this inherently multivalent material. However, while the converse can hardly be established, I feel it would be hard to argue that adornment can be used only for self-decoration, past or not.

This final point indicates my only real concern with the volume as a whole. This is simply that I find these essays making more of a contribution to the wider field of clothing studies (textiles, jewelry, grooming; representations and remains) than they themselves claim or indeed allow. In every case, the closely argued conclusions could usefully have been extended to wider aspects of scholarship, to the benefit of both. Instead, underlying assumptions (about the role and basic nature of adornment, a dynamic canvas to be read) seemed rather tentative. This is a shame, if only for the fact that this accessible and useful volume itself deserves to be widely read, by students as well as researchers, in various fields. In any case, I should have welcomed an afterword, drawing together the wider issues both posed and resolved by the essays taken together. But again, this is perhaps simply reflective of the fact that this is an interesting volume, which whets the appetite for more from its editors and contributors.

Table of Contents

List of Figures
List of Tables
Map of the Aegean and Near East
Introduction
Bodily Adornment and Identity
Cynthia S. Colburn and Maura K. Heyn
Chapter One, Exotica and the Body in the Minoan and Mycenaean Worlds
Cynthia S. Colburn
Chapter Two, The Lady of the Landscape: An Investigation of Aegean Costuming and the Xeste 3 Frescoes
Anne P. Chapin
Chapter Three, Fabric Patterns as Symbols of Status in the Near East and Early Greece
Eleanor Guralnick
Chapter Four, Grave Garb: Archaic and Classical Macedonian Funerary Costume
Alexis Q.Castor
Chapter Five, "Fashioning" Initiates: Dress at the Mysteries
Laura Gawlinski
Chapter Six, Sacerdotal Activities and Parthian Dress in Roman Palmyra
Maura K. Heyn
Chapter Seven, Appearance, Diversity, and Identity in Roman Britain
Judith Rosten
List of Contributors
Index (read complete article)

2009.01.29

Jo Willmott, The Moods of Homeric Greek. Cambridge Classical Studies. Cambridge/New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Pp. xii, 264. ISBN 9780521879880. $99.00.
Reviewed by D.M. Goldstein, University of California, Berkeley (dmgold@berkeley.edu)

Table of Contents

Jo Willmott's new book, The Moods of Homeric Greek, critically examines the meaning and use of the modal forms in Homeric Greek.

Willmott advances the claim that the traditional accounts are often inadequate, both theoretically and descriptively, and consequently proposes significant revisions. Her conclusions bear not just on modality in Homeric Greek, but also on modality theory in general. This is an important book, as it has set a new standard in the description and analysis of the Greek moods.

The synchronic analyses of the Greek moods in the book are excellent: they are more sophisticated and detailed than those found anywhere in the standard handbooks. Close study of this book will make one a more semantically sensitive and thus better reader of Greek. I have only two general criticisms. First, I think more needed to be said on diachrony, as the explanations offered for how and why certain semantic changes occurred left me wanting more. Second, the semantic analyses could have benefited from more engagement with pragmatic meaning. Overall, however, I recommend this book earnestly. A broad Classics audience will benefit from it.

The Layout

In brief, what Willmott does is to demonstrate how the traditional doctrine of the moods fails both theoretically and empirically, and to offer in turn new accounts of their semantics. This involves not only wrestling with high-order questions like the semantic maps of the indicative, subjunctive, and optative, but also more fine-grained and practical ones about the (semantic and pragmatic) interpretation of specific lines. Willmott begins in chapter one by laying out the scope of the work and discussing her corpus and its concomitant pitfalls. Chapter two presents the theoretical framework; here she reviews traditional accounts of the moods and surveys more recent work in linguistics, in particular from the area of grammaticalization (on which more below). Chapters three, four, and five are the heart of the book, dealing with the indicative, subjunctive, and optative, respectively. Chapter six offers a look at moods in subordinate environments, and chapter seven concludes the work. There are two appendices, one on formal markers, the other a catalogue of mood uses in the two Homeric poems (which will prove extremely useful); as well as a bibliography, index locorum, and general index. Below I present and discuss some of the highlights and interesting discoveries of the work. I then look more closely at the book within the framework of grammaticalization. This is followed by a consideration of the semantics-pragmatics interface. I conclude with minor sundry criticisms.

The Greek Moods Revised

So what does one gain from reading this book? Simply put, new semantic maps of the indicative, the subjunctive, and the optative. Willmott upends the traditional semantic accounts of the moods (as found in, e.g., Chantraine, Monro, Goodwin, etc.). In particular, she challenges the claim that they are ordered on an "irrealis continuum," according to which the indicative is the most realis or factual, the subjunctive less so, and the optative least so.

The Indicative

Willmott replaces this traditional system with an account that is theoretically more coherent and that captures far more of the data. For the indicative, Willmott argues that the descriptions of the mood as one of "reality," or "fact," or "objectivity" are unsatisfactory. She points out that this claim runs into problems with the appearance of the indicative in conditional sentences, especially counterfactual. There the counterfactual nature of the clause flatly belies the proclaimed factual essence of the indicative. Willmott resolves this by arguing that the indicative marks "positive epistemic stance": that is, even if a speaker is not committed to the truth of a proposition, he is at least committed to the possibility of its truth (p. 51). This requires us to accept that a counterfactual implicates, rather than entails, the falsity of the protasis and apodosis.

Take Il. 16.617 as an example (from p. 49), where Aeneas says to Meriones:

Μηριόνη, τάχα κέν σε καὶ ὀρχηστήν περ ἐόντα ἔγχος ἐμὸν κατέπαυσε διαμπερές, εἴ σ' ἔβαλον περ.

'Meriones -- even though you're a dancer, my spear would have stopped you completely, if I'd hit you!' (trans. Willmott)

Here Willmott notes that the events described by the conditional, Aeneas' hitting Meriones with a spear, did not happen. Nevertheless, Aeneas suggests pragmatically that it was a real possibility for him to have struck Meriones (even though he did not). Otherwise, Willmott claims, his taunt would hardly be effectual.

Her analysis is attractive and persuasive. I wondered how "positive epistemic stance" would line up with an earlier analysis that accounts for indicative counterfactuality in terms of pragmatic assertion (vs. the non-assertion of oblique moods).1 Despite the appeal of her analysis, I thought more should have been said here on the contribution of the "modal" particle κέ(ν), as it was given only a paragraph's worth of attention. Willmott suggests a compositional analysis, whereby the particle and the indicative each contribute to the meaning of the construction: the indicative can be understood as marking the positive epistemic stance of the subject, while the particle together with the protasis could mark the difference between a counterfactual indicative and its normal use (p. 50).

The Subjunctive

The chapter on the subjunctive is the most complex. To begin with diachrony, Willmott claims that the subjunctive was "originally" (but when: in Proto-Greek? Proto-Indo-European?) some kind of future marker, but one that was developing different meanings from the future indicative. The Homeric subjunctive thus occupies a transitional position between future tense and true mood, but is developing more and more modal uses (p. 79). This trajectory is completed, so to speak, only in Attic, where the "future" meaning of the subjunctive is restricted to subordinate environments (and this is just where we expect the preservation of older morphosyntactic patterns). According to her analysis, the subjunctive is the older form, while the future indicative is "perhaps a 'younger' future marker" (p. 79).

There is a long-standing debate as to whether the Greek future descends from the short-vowel aorist subjunctive or from a desiderative morpheme (that is, a verbal form that encodes the meaning 'wish, want' on the base semantics of the verb; such forms are attested in Sanskrit). Willmott leans toward the former, but does not press her case too strongly, as it would require getting mired in complex details of historical phonology. Still, I thought Willmott could have argued more forcefully for the aorist-subjunctive origin given her findings on the semantics and use of the future.

To move away from diachrony, Willmott's synchronic claim for the subjunctive is that it is not more "irrealis" than the future indicative. She looks at the epistemic subjunctive (which others refer to as the "quasi-future" use of the subjunctive) in various morphosyntactic environments, e.g. root clauses, conditionals, subordinate clauses. For main clauses she argues against an analysis whereby the future marks projected reality, while the subjunctive only potential reality. Under this type of model, the speaker uses a future indicative when he has considerable confidence, if not certainty, in the future occurrence of the event, while with the subjunctive it is only a possibility. Willmott is careful in reviewing the evidence, and shows that this distinction is not borne out by the Homeric evidence.

Analysis of the subjunctive and future indicative in Homeric Greek is no easy task, as these two categories are often difficult to distinguish both formally and functionally. One can easily be misled into thinking that they are in free variation: Willmott rightly stresses that this is not the case, as the two categories are not distributionally identical. Rather, the future is restricted in its functional load, while the subjunctive has a broader array of uses. To illustrate this point, she observes that the future indicative in conditionals is restricted to resumptive conditionals (conditionals that reintroduce a piece of information from the linguistic or non-linguistic context).

The Optative

The optative is conventionally considered the most irrealis of the moods, and also often considered to be a past-time variant of the subjunctive. Willmott replaces this view with an optative that expresses negative epistemic stance in conditionals, and elsewhere marks unreal events. As a marker of unreal events, it is thus timeless. Her results on this front are especially interesting when it comes to the expression of wishes.

Willmott also shatters much conventional wisdom about the subjunctive and optative in subordinate environments, such as purpose clauses and non-specific (or "general") relative clauses. In the handbooks (based as they are on Attic Greek of the classical period), mood usage is essentially a grammatical rule: after primary-tense verbs, a subjunctive is obligatory in the subordinate clause; while after a secondary-tense verb, an optative. Despite robust evidence in support of this generalization, there are many counterexamples, which are typically said to "break sequence." Willmott shows, on the contrary, that the appearance of the subjunctive or optative (in Homer, at least) is not dictated by grammatical rule, but rather by the semantics of the main clause. Indeed, one can really see from Willmott's work just how different Homeric and Attic are in terms of degree of grammaticalization. The semantic conditioning that Willmott is describing for the moods can also, for instance, be found among agent-expressions with passive verbs,2 as well as purpose-clause markers.

Mood through the Lens of Grammaticalization

The framework within which Willmott comes to her conclusions is that of grammaticalization. This is a subfield of linguistics that was initiated by Meillet;3 it has experienced a burst of attention in the last twenty years. Its focus and scope, as traditionally defined, are the development of lexical items into grammatical items, as well as the development of new functions in already grammatical items. One example of the first type was mentioned above, namely the change of English will from a content verb to an auxiliary marking futurity. A similar example would be the change of body-part nouns into prepositions (e.g. Hittite hant- 'forehead' and cognate prepositions like Lat. ante and Grk. ἀντί4). What Willmott is looking at with the moods is how already grammaticalized forms take on new semantic dimensions. This includes e.g. looking at a verbal category like 'subjunctive' and examining how it came to be used in various embedded clauses, e.g. purpose clauses. It also includes looking at individual grammatical markers and how they develop, e.g. temporal-clause markers also taking on purpose-marking functions.

Previous attempts to understand the semantics of Greek moods have attempted to set up a core abstract meaning from which other meanings are derived. One assumption underlying this method is that language is structural, and that grammatical domains may be neatly defined and divided, with each individual marker in the system gaining its meaning through opposition with other markers (e.g., indicative in opposition to the "oblique" moods). By contrast, grammaticalization claims that such neat descriptions are insufficient, as language use is far messier. Rather than derive the various meanings of a grammatical form from some abstract essential meaning, grammaticalization sees the different uses as stages along a trajectory of development (p. 26): grammatical markers, e.g. verbal mood, gradually develop and accumulate new meanings. Moreover, these trajectories are constrained by the type of constructions in which the grammatical marker occurs, as well as its implicatures (that is, broadly speaking, the non-linguistically encoded meaning that is conveyed by inference). Thus language change is of central importance in understanding the synchronic diversity of meaning in a grammatical form.

This amphichronic framework is a fruitful one, as it has yielded new and exciting insights. In practice, however, it creates some tensions in Willmott's work. For while Willmott has not set out to write a diachronic study of the moods from PIE to Greek, or even from Homeric Greek to Attic Greek, her framework nevertheless demands diachronic investigation. The result is that discussions on this front seemed cramped. I often found myself wanting explanations for why and how certain changes occurred, e.g. the discussion of ὄφρα pp. 156-158, of purpose clauses on p. 159, and of iteratives on pp. 182-183. With forms or constructions undergoing change, discussion of frequency would also have been helpful, e.g. the number of tokens in which ὄφρα has temporal, purpose, or indeterminate semantic values.5 With ὄφραὄ in particular, I wonder whether there is a connection to make between its frequency (which, impressionistically, does not seem that high) and its restrained development: for while ὄφρα became a purpose marker, its use as such was constrained (apparently by the semantics of its matrix verb phrase), and it never exhibited the same kind of development as e.g. ἵνα.

The Semantics-Pragmatics Interface

The focus of Willmott's study is the semantics of the moods, and her results from this angle are impressive. At times, however, I think more could have been achieved with greater attention to pragmatic meaning. That is, to look not only at the propositional meaning of a sentence, but how a speaker might manipulate the implications of such meaning. For there are cases when it seemed that data that were inconsistent from a semantic angle were not from a pragmatic one. Moreover, the semantics-pragmatics interface is in some ways crucial to grammaticalization. Frajzyngier7 has recently argued that indirect expression in interpersonal communication is one of the basic driving forces of grammaticalization. To be sure, Willmott is aware of the importance of pragmatic implicature; my point is only that greater consideration of the interface between semantic and pragmatic meaning could have strengthened her analyses. I present three examples below.

Consider the aorist indicative in the protasis at Il. 1.503, discussed by Willmott on p. 42:

Ζεῦ πάτερ, εἴ ποτε δή σε μετ' ἀθανάτοισιν ὄνησα 'Father Zeus, if ever I helped you, among the immortals...' (trans. Willmott)

Here Thetis is speaking,6 and, as Willmott rightly notes, she did in fact help Zeus. As such, the protasis appears to be a factual statement (closer to a causal clause: 'since I helped you...') rather than a real conditional. Willmott claims that Thetis does not want to appear to be bartering her previous duty for a favor from Zeus, and therefore uses a conditional. Accordingly, Willmott labels the usage here a "rhetorical device" (ibid.) and a "stylistic choice" (ibid.). Both of these observations are probably correct (even if it is not entirely clear what these labels are supposed to mean), but I thought that a better motivated account of Thetis' language could be derived from a pragmatic angle. By using a conditional here, she explicitly disavows recognition of having done favors for Zeus in the past, but implicitly both speaker and addressee know that she has. As such, the indirectness seems more like a face-enhancing or assertion-muting strategy of a speaker with less power attempting to acquire something from a listener with more.

Also, I am skeptical of the claim that Thetis wants to avoid the appearance of bartering with Zeus. For this is what she is doing, even if the bartering takes the expression of a conditional and not an outright causal clause: that is, to say 'if I did X, do Y' is still to barter, irrespective of whether the conditional is true or not. Moreover, given the overwhelmingly do ut des nature of Mediterranean religions (see e.g. Pl., Euth. 13d-15a) to set Thetis up as wanting to avoid the appearance of bartering may be anachronistic.

On p. 63, in discussing subjunctives found where we might have expected futures, Willmott cites the following from Agamemnon (Il.1.184-185):

τὴν μὲν ἐγὼ σὺν νηΐ τ' εμῆι καὶ ἐμοῖς ἑτάροισιν πέμψω. ἐγὼ δέ κ' ἄγω βρισηΐδα καλλιπάρηιον

'Her I'll send back in my own ships [sic], and with my own crew. But I'll take Briseis, in all her beauty.' (trans. Willmott)

Willmott uses the example to argue that subjunctives and future indicatives cannot be distinguished according to a certainty parameter. Prima facie Agamemnon's use of ἐγὼ δέ κ' ἄγω seems to support this claim: the event of transporting Briseis is entirely under his control and he has every reason to regard the event as reasonably certain. However, if we imagine that the future indicative and subjunctive do differ in terms of speaker-certainty, then it is possible that the subjunctive, encoding less certainty, might be exploited for pragmatic purposes, here to mute the assertiveness of the suggestion by presenting a projected reality as a potential reality. We might compare the use of English 'could' here to talk about potential events that are not dependent on the ability of the speaker.

We find another scenario of this type on pp. 125 and 130, in a discussion of the optative λύσαιτε at Il. 1.20:

παῖδα δ' ἐμοὶ λύσαιτε φίλην, τὰ δ' ἄποινα δέχεσθαι

'Release my darling child, and accept this ransom' (trans. Willmott)

Willmott draws the following semantic distinctions between wishes (which we have here) and imperatives. With imperatives, the agent of the action is addressed, and the speaker has some control over the addressee or agent. In wishes, the agent of the action is not addressed, and the speaker has no control over the addressee. This example does not fit neatly into Willmott's scheme because we have a wish in which an agent is directly addressed. Here she rightly points out, as others have before, that the use of the optative is a politeness tactic, in that it enables the speaker to avoid directly asking (or ordering) the addressee to do something. But the analysis could, I think, have been stronger if she had shown how this politeness technique results from a manipulation of the semantic scheme. That is, in using the wish construction, Chryses frames the situation as if he has no control over his addressee, and hope is his only recourse. This is presumably a deference-tactic. Likewise, although his message is directed toward the agent of the desired event (namely Agamemnon), Chryses addresses the Greek host at large (Il. 1.15-16). In doing so, he further distances himself from a direct request over a particular agent. Thus, an example like this seems to me not to be a counterexample, but rather another example of how semantic resources can be pragmatically manipulated.

Consider again in this light the use of the indicative in counterfactuals. Here the propositional value of a protasis (e.g. 'If I had gone to the store') can suspend truth on a semantic level, but deny it on a pragmatic level. We observed the opposite effect with our Thetis-example above: explicitly a proposition was suspended, but implicitly it was affirmed. More attention to the pragmatics of modal constructions will surely enhance our understanding of grammaticalization patterns, texts, and Greek sociolinguistics more broadly.

Sundry and Small

Translations of the Greek are usually satisfactory, but sometimes Willmott takes unexpected turns with the modality, e.g. future ἐφήσει on p. 76 is rendered with 'could'; on p. 185, εἵποντο is translated 'would follow.' On p. 186 she translates Τρώων as 'of the Trojans.' The addition of the definite article would normally not be cause for concern, but here in a discussion of antecedent specificity more care should have been exercised.

On p. 80, I doubt that the point of τενῶ will be clear to the typical classicist, and its historical development should have been spelled out to clarify its relationship to a desiderative *-h₁s- morpheme, i.e. *ten-h₁s-o > ten-es-o > teneo > τενῶ.

On p. 200, in her discussion of the semantic contribution of ἄν Willmott mentions one possible etymology, namely that it originates from a reanalysis of the string οὐ κάν into οὐκ ἄν; and that it descends from the same form as κε(ν), which is derived also from earlier κάν. Here Willmott should have at least cited the competing analysis, which holds that ἄν and κε(ν) are not historically related, and that the former is in fact cognate with Latin an and Gothic an.8 This is a plausible view, and if it is true, then the functional overlap of the two particles could not be ascribed to the same diachronic source.

In laying out semantic maps of the various moods, it would have been helpful to provide visual maps of the various meanings and their relationships, as is done elsewhere in studies of grammaticalization. This would have been especially helpful with the subjunctive, where the use and semantics of the category are especially rich.

Lastly, a word about the presentation of the Greek. If classical linguists intend for their work to be read by general linguists (as they should), they will need to adopt the conventions of modern linguistics and transliterate the Greek as well as offer word-by-word glosses, which this book does not do. Subjunctive and optative forms are underlined, which is helpful, but I doubt that for a Greekless linguist this is sufficient.

Final Thoughts

In sum, this work has superseded much that has come before it and set a new benchmark in the analysis and description of Greek modality. It is the most theoretically sophisticated and empirically detailed account of the Greek moods that I am aware of. This book is thus a welcome addition to a growing body of work by young classicists revealing just how inadequate the traditional grammars are, especially when it comes to semantics and pragmatics. These areas are ripe for more exciting discoveries in the coming years.

Notes

1. See F.R. Palmer, Mood and Modality, 2nd ed. (Cambridge 2001): 3-4.

2. On the diversity of agent-marking with passives in Homer, see C. George Expressions of Agency in Ancient Greek (Cambridge 2005): 62-65, 68-69.

3. A. Meillet, "L'évolution des formes grammaticales," Scientia (Rivista di Scienze) 12/26 (6): 384-400. The essential idea behind grammaticalization had existed well before Meillet, however, in the work of Bopp, von Humboldt, and others; see e.g. C. Lehmann, Thoughts on grammaticalization: A programmatic sketch (Cologne 1982) and B. Heine, U. Claudi, and F. Hünnemeyer, Grammaticalization: A conceptual framework (Chicago 1991).

4. See J. Puhvel, Hittite Etymological Dictionary: Volume 3, Words Beginning with H (Berlin/New York 1991): 89-96; A. Kloekhorst, Etymological Dictionary of the Hittite Inherited Lexicon (Leiden/Boston 2007): 287-289. This is a cross-linguistically common development: see J. Bybee, R. Perkins, and Willmott Pagliuca, The Evolution of Grammar: Tense, Aspect, and Modality in the Languages of the World (Chicago/London 1994): 10-11.

5. The absence of frequency in Willmott's discussion is surprising given that it generally plays such a prominent role in grammaticalization studies. See for instance Frequency Effects and the Emergence of Linguistic Structure, ed. J. Bybee and P. Hopper (Amsterdam/Philadelphia 2001), or J. Bybee, "Mechanisms of change in grammaticization: The role of frequency," in Handbook of historical linguistics, ed. R. Janda and B. Joseph (Oxford 2003).

6. Willmott misidentifies the speaker here as Chryses.

7. Z. Frajzyngier, "Grammaticalization, typology and semantics: Expanding the agenda," in Rethinking Grammaticalization: New Perspectives, ed. M.J. López-Couso and E. Seoane (Amsterdam/Philadelphia 2008): 61-102. On meaning change (both semantic and pragmatic) and grammaticalization specifically, see also Regine Eckardt, Meaning Change in Grammaticalization: An Enquiry into Semantic Reanalysis (Oxford 2008).

8. See e.g. H. Frisk, Griechisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch (Heidelberg 1960-1972), s.v. ἄν. Nicholas Sims-Williams informs me (p.c.) that he is preparing an article with Elizabeth Tucker on ἄν from a comparative Indo-European point-of-view. This article will include new data from Middle Iranian that has not been included in past discussions. (read complete article)

2009.01.28

Francisco Miguel del Rincón Sánchez, Trágicos menores del Siglo V A.C. (de Tespis a Neofrón): estudio filológico y literario. Tesis doctorales cum laude. Serie L (Literatura), 45. Madrid: Fundación Universitaria Española, 2007. Pp. 518. ISBN 9788473926768. €20.00 (pb).
Reviewed by Miryam Librán Moreno, Universidad de Extremadura (mlibmor@unex.es)

El libro objeto de la presente reseña es la reimpresión, no revisada, de la tesis doctoral presentada en el año 2002 en la Facultad de Filología de la Universidad Nacional de Educación a Distancia, donde su autor (a partir de ahora R.S.) actualmente imparte clases. Se trata de la primera traducción y comentario exhaustivo publicado en español sobre la producción dramática de trece tragediógrafos menores (Tespis, Quérilo, Frínico, Prátinas, Evetes, Polifrasmón, Notipo, Aristias, Mesato, Euforión, Eveón, Aristarco de Tegea y Neofrón), estudiada fundamentalmente desde el punto de vista mitográfico, literario e iconográfico.

Los estudiosos interesados en la obra fragmentaria de los tragediógrafos están de enhorabuena por el boom de publicaciones y comentarios dedicados en los últimos años a este aspecto concreto del drama heleno.¹ De entre los tragediógrafos mayores, Eurípides ha gozado de especial fortuna en esta benemérita explosión editorial,² pero los tragediógrafos menores, debido a la lamentable exigüidad de los restos de su producción dramática, no han sido tan afortunados. Así pues, este ambicioso trabajo viene a cubrir un hueco en la nómina de ediciones y comentarios sobre los fragmentos de los dramaturgos griegos.

El presente trabajo toma como punto de partida la edición de los fragmentos de tragediógrafos menores de B. Snell- R. Kannicht (Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta I: Didascaliae tragicae, catalogi tragicorum et tragoediarum, testimonia et fragmenta tragicorum minorum, Gotinga 1986), así como la edición bilingüe griegóalemán con bibliografía y notas editada por R. Kannicht (Musa Tragica. Die griechische Tragödie von Thespis bis Ezechiel, Tubinga 1991). R.S. reconoce su deuda con esta último trabajo (p. 94), del que difiere fundamentalmente en la voluntad de exhaustividad en la recopilación de testimonios y fragmentos, así como en la reconstrucción de los dramas basada en un método ecléctico y en el estudio en profundidad de las variantes míticas y los reflejos iconográficos (p. 94).

El volumen se abre con un largo prólogo (87 pp.) en el que se examinan todas y cada una de las cuestiones que pueden resultar pertinentes para el estudio de un fragmento dramático, desde el valor y los peligros presentados por el empleo de la iconografía en la reconstrucción hasta la revisión de los distintos métodos de reconstrucción de los dramas perdidos. Dicho prólogo se divide en cuatro grandes apartados con varios subapartados, dedicados aquellos a la "envergadura literaria de la tragedia griega y su repercusión social" (I: pp. 15-31), "etapas y métodos de trabajo en la reconstrucción de la tragedia fragmentaria" (II: pp. 31-39), "materiales empleados para la reconstrucción de la tragedia fragmentaria" (III: pp. 40-92) y "poetas trágicos estudiados" (IV: pp. 92-98), a los que se suman un breve apartado sobre los lugares en los que R.S. se aparta del texto de Snell-Kannicht (p. 98) y una lista de abreviaturas utilizadas (pp. 99-100).

El prólogo resulta tal vez excesivamente prolijo, cosa que posiblemente se deba al origen de tesis doctoral de este estudio, y repetitivo, en tanto anticipa sistemáticamente información presentada posteriormente con más argumentos en el cuerpo central del trabajo (la sustancia de los hallazgos y propuestas de R.S. está en pp. 48-55, 67-70), que habría resultado más adecuada y útil como parte de unas conclusiones finales, que faltan en el volumen. Es cierto que es una información importante para contextualizar adecuadamente la presentación de los fragmentos, pero de cara a la publicación como monografía, habría sido deseable podar toda la información bien conocida por cualquier lector familiarizado con el drama fragmentario y remitir en su lugar a las monografías esenciales y más actuales sobre la cuestión para todo aquel estudioso interesado en una mayor profundización bibliográfica.

Al prólogo sigue la edición, traducción y comentario de los testimonios y fragmentos dramáticos de los trece tragediógrafos menores estudiados en otros tantos capítulos. Cada capítulo consta de cinco partes: un preámbulo, en el que se expone la biografía, producción dramática, éxitos y fracasos, innovaciones escénicas, literarias o argumentales; influencia en los dramaturgos posteriores y reflejo en las artes plásticas; testimonia, fragmenta (si los hubiera); incertarum fabularum fragmenta; y bibliografía específica sobre el dramaturgo. Testimonia y fragmenta van acompañados de un comentario en el que se explican fundamentalmente cuestiones métricas, lingüísticas y de realia, así como de un análisis muy pormenorizado desde el punto de vista literario e iconográfico del mito tratado en los títulos de las obras, si hubiera lugar (p. 97).

Éste es un ordenamiento del material interesante y útil, si nuestro propósito es conocer en detalle y con profundidad todas las variantes mitográficas anteriores y posteriores del asunto tratado en un drama determinado, pero a mi gusto peca de prolijidad. Habría sido, tal vez, más útil para el lector limitarse a recoger exclusivamente aquellas variantes mitográficas que puedan resultar relevantes para la reconstrucción del drama, o que puedan utilizarse para arrojar luz sobre la σύστασις πραγμάτων o sobre la esencia del posible conflicto trágico, remitiendo para el resto de detalles no directamente relacionados con el drama tratado a manuales mitográficos en los que el lector pueda saciar su curiosidad.

Pongo como ejemplo el tratamiento de Ἠίθεοι de Tespis (p. 134): lo importante no es tanto la leyenda de Teseo en general, o quién escribió qué dramas sobre el asunto de Teseo en sentido lato, sino seleccionar y analizar exclusivamente aquellas versiones que se centren en los ἠίθεοι o mozos que acompañaron a Teseo como parte del tributo debido a Minos, y que cuenten con Eribea entre sus protagonistas, como ocurre con Soph. F. 730a R. Otro tanto pasa con fr. inc. fab. 16 de Frínico (pp. 254-5): si está claro que la referencia al toro de Europa se hizo de pasada, posiblemente en Fenicias, resulta innecesario extenderse en los detalles mitográficos del rapto de la princesa y en los poetas y dramaturgos que trataban el asunto: habría bastado con estudiar simplemente aquellas versiones en las que el rapto de Europa se muestra como causa lejana de las guerras médicas, o en las que se describiera el toro de una forma que se pudiera comparar con el epíteto friniqueo ἀργιμήτης.

Con respecto a la bibliografía, el sistema utilizado para su cita es confuso y difícil de manejar para el lector. Pese a que la obra está editada en 2007, no aparecen referencias bibliográficas posteriores al año 1999, por lo que la bibliografía está bastante anticuada. Habría sido imprescindible manejar al menos la lista de addenda a TrGF 1 incluida por R. Kannicht en pp. 1102-1116 del segundo volumen de Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta V. Euripides (Gotinga 2004). Hubiera sido igualmente deseable incluir, con vistas a la edición de la tesis doctoral como monografía, un breve apéndice de actualización bibliográfica con lo más relevante para cada capítulo, toda vez que los estudios sobre fragmentos dramáticos han experimentado un vigoroso florecimiento en los últimos años del que sería conveniente dejar alguna constancia.

En su edición, R.S. ha incluido algunos testimonios y fragmentos omitidos o desatendidos por Snell-Kannicht, así como ampliado el contexto relevante para el estudio del fragmento. R.S. muestra un ingenio e imaginación notables a la hora de exprimir cada fragmento y cada testimonio, por breves o aparentemente insignificantes que parezcan, para extraer toda la información precisada para la reconstrucción de la línea argumental del drama analizado, pero en ocasiones este procedimiento puede conducir a emitir hipótesis de reconstrucción excesivamente aventuradas.³ La edición de R.S. no incluye un aparato crítico de los fragmentos, toda vez que sigue el de TrGF 1 de Kannicht-Snell, del que se aparta en diez ocasiones que detalla (pp. 97-8). Indudablemente, siempre existe el peligro, para un reseñista, de criticar a un autor por no haber escrito el libro que aquél hubiera deseado escribir. Del mismo modo, por la misma naturaleza de una reseña es necesario detenerse con más minuciosidad en los puntos en los que el reseñista no coincide con el autor, sin que ello entrañe minusvaloración de los aspectos admirables del volumen objeto de esta reseña. Empiezo por el criterio de selección de los trece dramaturgos estudiados. R.S. pasa revista a la lista de poetas incluidos (pp. 94-7), pero no aclara por qué razón decide detenerse en Neofrón, omitiendo otros poetas de suma importancia para la tragedia de finales del s. V a.C. El límite temporal parece ser que la muerte del dramaturgo debe haberse producido dentro del s. V a.C., pero este criterio de selección no se hace explícito y, de ser cierto, no se entiende bien la ausencia de Ion de Quíos, Aqueo, Critias e incluso Agatón, muertos, como se sabe, antes o al filo del año 400 a.C. Los importantes fragmentos de Pirítoo (43 F 1-14 Sn.-K.) y Sísifo (43 F 19 Sn.-K.) de Critias habrían merecido atención específica.

Paso a tratar ahora algunos asuntos de detalle, en los que analizo lo que considero aportaciones más novedosas de R.S.

Tespis. P. 107 y p. 136: R.S. parece estar de acuerdo con la sugerencia de que el coro de Tespis pudo haber estado formado por seis integrantes, según el supuesto testimonio de las pinturas vasculares. Sin embargo, hay que notar que hay bastante discusión antigua referente al número de coreutas y en ningún momento se dice que Esquilo subiera el número de coros de seis a doce: al contrario, se insiste en que Esquilo lo disminuyó de cincuenta a doce (Aesch. T 66 R.). Indudablemente, el número de cincuenta coreutas es a todas luces falso, pero si Esquilo u otro dramaturgo hubiera aumentado el número de coreutas, habrían quedado rastros de tal innovación en los estudiosos posteriores, como ocurre con el caso de Sófocles, quien aumentó el número de integrantes del coro de doce a quince.

Pp. 107, 136: R.S. acepta como válida sin suficiente precaución la noticia de la Suda φ 762 de que Frínico fue el primero en introducir personajes femeninos en escena, pese a que dicha noticia va de la mano de otra, manifiestamente falsa, sobre la introducción del tetrámetro trocaico por parte de Frínico (p. 179). Creer sin la debida cautela en la veracidad de esta noticia sobre la ausencia de personajes femeninos antes de Frínico tiene consecuencias de alcance para la datación y reconstrucción de los dramas de Tespis y Quérilo (p. 153, 165), y por extensión la tragedia arcaica. Así, R.S. (p. 107) afirma: "ninguna tragedia de Tespis lleva título femenino", y sobre esta base deniega la presencia de Ágave o de un coro de Bacantes en Penteo (pp. 140-1, esp. n. 403). Eso es indudablemente cierto, pero no lo es menos que sólo poseemos cuatro títulos de una producción que pudo haber alcanzado y sobrepasado el medio centenar de obras, y que dichos títulos pueden ser falsificaciones, por lo cual su valor probatorio es bastante escaso. Además, se podría postular que el F 1c K.-Sn. de Penteo de Tespis, en el que se ordena que alguien se ponga el vestido típico de las ménades (νεβρίδ' ... ἐπενδύτην), exige la presencia de bacantes en escena, si se compara con el eco de Eur. Ba. 137.

Pp. 112-6: dado el controvertido problema del origen de la tragedia, un auténtico campo de minas en el que se mezcla la falta de datos con las informaciones contradictorias, para aquilatar la importancia real de Tespis habría sido deseable profundizar más al hilo de estos testimonios en el papel de Epígenes de Sición y Arión de Metimna, de quienes se decía que habían sido los primeros en componer una tragedia. Sería interesante para el lector tener unos puntos de referencia claros para orientarse en la masa de informaciones sobre los precedentes de Tespis y los condicionamientos ideológicos (anticuarios, de propaganda política o cultural...) que moverían a uno u otro erudito antiguo a mencionar a Tespis o a una contrapartida doria como padre de un producto tan típicamente ático como la tragedia. Asimismo, habría sido necesario al menos mencionar el papel de Homero en la creación de la tragedia como género literario, en relación con el T 12 de Tespis (pp. 115-6).

P. 114: en Tespis T 8 (=A.P. 7.410.3) la conjetura βριθὺν en lugar del corrupto τριθῦν de los mss. parece correcta, pero se echa en falta una explicación de en qué mejora el texto y por qué es preferible a otras correcciones alternativas (no significa sólo "pesado", sino "pesado por el vino", por tanto "borracho"). Al hilo de esta observación, se podría haber mencionado, brevemente, el papel atribuido al vino y la borrachera en la creación de la tragedia arcaica que encontramos, fundamentalmente, en autores helenísticos (e.g. Aesch. T 117 R.), y las consecuencias que esta concepción tendría en las aseveraciones de éstos sobre el origen de la tragedia como género.

P 118: Habría sido deseable poner en relación el T 16 sobre la introducción del primer actor antes de Tespis con el problema de si Esquilo introdujo el segundo o tercer actor (Soph. T 96 R.): sería de suma relevancia para aquilatar el papel creador de Tespis y las posibles diferencias con respecto al género dramático, fuera del tipo que fuera, creado por Arión de Metimna. Los juegos de Pelias o Forbante. R.S. hace un valiente intento de reconstrucción de este drama, del que no queda ni un solo fragmento (pp. 122-9). Propone que el Forbante del título es el auriga y maestro de lucha de Teseo, que se enfrentaría a Peleo en los juegos, y que esta tragedia sería una de las falsificaciones de Heraclides Póntico (pp. 127-9). La propuesta es original y atractiva, pero muy especulativa, en tanto que no hay pruebas documentales indudables que la sustenten. Por mi parte, me resulta muy atractiva la propuesta de Girard de leer φορβάς ("yegua") y no φόρβας en el título y por tanto ver aquí un drama no sobre la figura inconexa de Forbante, sino sobre el trágico final de Glauco de Potnias, devorado por sus yeguas carnívoras durante los Juegos de Pelias. Sería así una tragedia precursora de Glauco Potnieo de Esquilo.

Sacerdotes (p. 129): R.S., basándose en la semejanza del título con Sacerdotisas de Esquilo, postula que este drama, del que no queda un solo fragmento, trataría el asunto del sacrificio de Ifigenia. Tal hipótesis no se puede ni probar ni demoler con argumentos, ya que carecemos completamente de cualquier dato objetivo, aunque el hecho de que títulos aparentemente iguales (e.g. Fenicias de Frínico y de Eurípides) traten materias completamente distintas, o que tragedias inconexas con el sacrificio de Ifigenia como Cretenses de Eurípides cuenten con un coro de sacerdotes (Eur. F 472 K.), debería servir como nota de precaución ante un método de reconstrucción basado exclusivamente en la semejanza de títulos.

Ἠίθεοι o Mozos: Ayudaría bastante a la reconstrucción de Ἠίθεοι de Tespis según las líneas argumentales del ditirambo homónimo de Baquílides el hecho de que los compañeros de Teseo aparecen designados con el sustantivo ηἰθέων en Soph. F 730c 14, por lo que habría sido conveniente hacer mayor uso de los fragmentos de esta tragedia sofoclea.

Pp. 136-7: R.S. propone que el fr. inc. fab. 3 de Tespis pertenece a Mozos, con el razonamiento de que en este fragmento Minos alaba la honestidad de de su padre Zeus frente al parentesco incierto de Teseo, en la línea de una política propagandística ateniense. Pero continúa habiendo dudas sobre la autenticidad de este fragmento, que casa mejor con el pensamiento de Heraclides Póntico que con el de Tespis, y en todo caso R.S. no explica ni evalúa las razones de la semejanza entre Tespis fr. inc. fab. 3 y Aesch. P.V. 980.

P. 140, Penteo: las huellas que aparecen en Eur. Ba. 50-2 de una versión de la fábula en la que Penteo se enfrentaba con un ejército a las bacantes y resultaba derrotado militarmente no tienen por qué remontarse a Tespis: también podrían provenir de Cardadoras o de Penteo de Esquilo (cf. Eum. 25-6), o incluso de Edonos y Basárides, dramas éstos imitados en varios pasajes de Bacantes de Eurípides.⁴

Quérilo. R.S. añade Cratino PCG 4 F 502 (=Hsch. χ 643) como testimonio 11 de Quérilo (no recogido por Kannicht-Snell) e interpreta el fragmento de la siguiente manera (p. 157): "Cratino, que debió conocer al poeta trágico Quérilo ..., tal vez ideara una doble parodia en una de sus comedias, sacando a escena al poeta trágico como "negro" del "flojo" comediógrafo Ecfántides" (pp. 153-4). Sin embargo, no tiene mucho sentido presentar en escena a un poeta trágico preesquileo, posiblemente muerto hace tiempo y ya bastante desconocido, como ayudante de un comediógrafo todavía vivo. Hsch. ε 1439 explica que Ecfántides tenía un esclavo llamado Quérilo que le ayudaba a componer comedias. Es más plausible que estemos ante un Quérilo distinto de nuestro tragediógrafo, y que Cratino siga el habitual patrón cómico de impugnar la fuerza creativa del rival acusándole de tener a sus órdenes "negros" de baja estofa, como ocurría, por ejemplo, con los ataques cómicos contra Eurípides y su supuesto esclavo Cefisofonte (Eur. T 52-4 K.). Por tanto, creo que al menos este testimonio referente a otro Quérilo, junto con las glosas de Hsch. ε 220 y 1439, debería ser eliminado de la edición, dado que no está suficientemente demostrado que se refiera al dramaturgo y es más plausible suponer que se trata de un actor o de un asociado de Ecfántides. Álope. R.S. sugiere que la unión de Álope y Teseo, documentada a partir de Istro FHG 334 F 10, puede remontarse a Quérilo (pp. 164-5), pero, como él mismo reconoce, los obstáculos en contra son demasiados.

Frínico. Alcestis: Ante la afirmación del Argum. Eur. Alc. en el sentido de que ningún otro tragediógrafo dramatizó el argumento de Alcestis, R.S. se adhiere a la opinión de Dale de que Aristófanes de Bizancio se ceñía exclusivamente a los tres trágicos mayores y que la Alcestis de Sófocles dramatizaría un material distinto, tal vez las pruebas que tuvo que superar Admeto para obtener la mano de Alcestis (p. 206). R.S. ve en Alcestis de Frínico un drama satírico o una tragedia de lo que llama "estilo arcaico", similar al drama satírico pero sin un coro de sátiros (pp. 68, 209).

Anteo, F 3a: R.S. sostiene que el escolio a Arist. Ra. 689, que identifica al Frínico mencionado en Ra. 689 con el tragediógrafo, el cual describió una serie de tretas en su drama Anteo, malinterpreta la broma de Aristófanes, puesto que el Frínico al que se refiere el cómico es el político rival de Alcibiades (p. 216-7). Habría, pues, que eliminar el testimonio, como hizo Nauck.

Pp. 190-1: El T 10a (recogido por Snell-Kannicht en el apartado de addenda et corrigenda en TrGF 1 p. 345) es enormemente dudoso, como reconoce R.S., por lo que la reconstrucción, enormemente especulativa, de una supuesta tragedia Tiestes que puede no existir siquiera resulta innecesaria. P. 192: la anécdota (posiblemente ahistórica) relatada por Ael. V.H. 3.8 (Frínico T 16) sobre la concesión de una στρατηγία a Frínico es tan parecida a la contada sobre las razones por las que Sófocles fue elegido στρατηγός en la guerra contra Samos (Soph. T 25 R.) como para hacer sospechar que aquélla está basada en ésta y por tanto el Frínico aquí mencionado es el tragediógrafo, como opina Snell. Anteo o los libios: el título alternativo Los libios hace sospechar a R.S. que no estamos ante un drama satírico, sino una tragedia, al estar conformado el coro por africanos y no sátiros (p. 216).

Mujeres de Pleurón (pp. 225-231). La aparición de Mujeres de Pleurón entre obras que empiezan por alfa en el catálogo de dramas de Frínico que aparece en la Suda demuestra que tenía el título alternativo de Altea (p. 69). Ante el testimonio de Pausanias 10.31.4 (= F 6) es difícil sustraerse a la convicción de que el asunto del tizón solamente se tocaba de pasada en esta tragedia, siendo quizá el núcleo trágico no tanto la muerte de Meleagro en sí, sino las consecuencias que pudo acarrear este acontecimiento a Altea y su familia (prefigurando así el patrón de Mujeres de Traquis de Sófocles?). R.S asigna fr. inc. fab. 21 a Mujeres de Pleurón (pp. 229, 259), pese a que Snell-Kannicht lo creen perteneciente a Frínico el cómico (fr. 90 K.-A) y no a nuestro tragediógrafo.

Fenicias: la aparición de ἀείδοντες (F 11) autoriza a R.S. a suponer queFenicias tenía un "coro secundario compuesto por los consejeros reales", hecho que habría originado el título alternativo de Los Persas (p. 247). Sin embargo, en ocasiones los coros trágicos conformados por personajes femeninos se refieren a sus integrantes en masculino sin necesidad de que cambien de identidad.⁵ En todo caso, dado que el fragmento en cuestión es un trímetro yámbico, es más plausible ver en ἀείδοντες la descripción de la intervención de unos músicos en un festín celebrado extra fabulam. No hay, por tanto, necesidad de postular un coro secundario solamente para explicar este verso ni se puede utilizar como argumento para identificar Fenicias con Los Persas. P. 243: la insistencia en el uso de λιποῦσαι (F 9), προλιπόντα (F 10) recuerda las excusas con las que el coro de mujeres fenicias justifica su presencia en Tebas en Eur. Phoe. 202-7 (cf. además Ba. 55-7); por tanto, es fácil suponer que el escenario de Fenicias no sería Fenicia sino una de las capitales persas, lo cual sería más congruente con el uso de τάδ' en el fr 8.

Tántalo: R.S. se apoya en la iconografía y en el exiguo F 7 para deducir que la tragedia se centraría en el banquete ofrecido por Tántalo a los dioses con la carne de su hijo Pélope (p. 237). Es una hipótesis plausible, pero difícil de demostrar de forma fehaciente. Ante los datos expuestos no estoy de acuerdo con que Frínico fuera el introductor de la filiación divina de Tántalo, hijo de Zeus (p. 278): igualmente podría haberlo sido Esquilo (F 162 R.) o un poeta épico del Ciclo.

Pp. 252-3: R.S. asigna fr. inc. fab. 14 a Δαναιδες. Es una atribución muy interesante y digna de tener en cuenta. La hipótesis de R.S. se puede reforzar con la aducción de Hdt. 2.107, una situación muy parecida en la que se conjuga un ambiente egipcio, un crimen familiar mediante el engaño y la entrega de ξεινία.

Prátinas. R.S. dedica varias páginas (pp. 311-6) al espinoso problema del famoso hiporquema de Prátinas (fr. inc. fab. 3). Si se acepta que es un fragmento dramático y no lírico, la reconstrucción de R.S. del posible drama satírico en el que aparecería es muy ingeniosa e intrigante: la pieza versaría sobre la invención del aulos por parte de Atenea y cómo Marsias lo recogió una vez que la diosa lo arrojó lejos de sí, disgustada por el feo aspecto que adquiría al tocar el instrumento. Sin embargo, creo que proponer que en este fragmento Prátinas parodia el ditirambo de Melanípides del mismo asunto, criticando a su vez las innovaciones musicales introducidas por este poeta (p. 314), no está justificado. Aunque las fechas concuerden (muy a duras penas: Prátinas murió antes de 467 a.C., mientras que Melanípides estuvo activo en la segunda mitad del s. V.), las parodias estilísticas y la crítica "literaria" y metateatral no son típicas del drama satírico, sino más bien de la comedia. En definitiva, aunque la hipótesis de que el fr. inc. fab. 3 es parte de un drama satírico sobre la invención de la flauta por Atenea es una propuesta de lo más atractiva, crea tantos problemas como soluciona.

Evetes. P. 324: el Evetes del T1 es el comediógrafo homónimo (así Snell- Kannicht en addenda et corrigenda, TrGF 1 p. 345), por lo que hay que eliminar el T 1. Además, utilizar como criterio para no identificar a este Evetes con el cómico el argumento de que éste escribiera una comedia titulada "La Heredera" (Ἐπίκληρος), con lo cual estaríamos ante un poeta perteneciente al periodo de la comedia nueva y no vieja, es muy discutible: el tema de la ἐπίκληρος se presta a la explotación cómica ya desde Arist. Vesp. 583-9.

Polifrasmón. De la posible anterioridad de la Licurgía con respecto a la trilogía homónima de Esquilo (asunto muy discutido y que depende de Crates T 8 K.-A = Aesch.T 69 R., un testimonio truncado y posiblemente corrupto), no se puede deducir, en cualquier caso, que la desviación con respecto a la versión de Homero y la introducción del enloquecimiento y parricidio de Licurgo por instigación de Dioniso, atestiguada por primera vez en Esquilo, se deba a Polifrasmón y no al trágico de Eleusis (p. 334): mientras que tenemos constancia de que dicha versión aparece en Esquilo, no queda ni un solo fragmento de la trilogía de aquél, ni directo ni indirecto, y por tanto es imposible saber qué argumento siguió.

NotipóGnesipo. R.S. identifica a Notipo (26 T K.-Sn.) con Gnesipo (27 T K.-Sn.) e interpreta que Notipo es el nombre auténtico impuesto por el padre, un tal Cleómaco, a su hijo natural de madre no ateniense, llamado "Gnesipo" sarcásticamente por los comediógrafos para recordarle su origen bastardo (pp. 337-8). La hipótesis es ingeniosa y tiene la virtud de reducir todos los testimonios sobre los varios Gnesipos y Notipos a una sola persona, el tragediógrafo Notipo hijo de Cleómaco. Sin embargo, el Gnesipo del T 3 (= 27 T 1, 7-10 K.-Sn.) es un citaredo, claramente distinto, como mínimo, del Gnesipo tragediógrafo hijo de Cleómaco (= 27 T 1, 15-22 K.-Sn.). Además, dado que la mayoría de testimonios sobre este poeta provienen de ataques cómicos contra su lascivia, glotonería y flojedad, si la madre de Notipo hubiera sido no ateniense, indudablemente los comediógrafos no habrían omitido dato tan jugoso. Compárese con lo que tuvo que aguantar Eurípides a cuenta de su madre, que ni siquiera era verdulera como la achacaban, sino de buena familia (Eur. T. 24-32 K.).

Aristias. Me parece impecable la reconstrucción de Keres como drama satírico relacionado con el duodécimo trabajo de Heracles y su katábasis en busca de Cérbero (pp. 358-60). Discrepo, sin embargo, sobre el blanco de los insultos del F 3 de Keres, que creo referidos a Cérbero y no Heracles: μαζαγρέτας puede hacer referencia a la torta de miel con que se enterraba a los muertos para que se la dieran a Cérbero (μάζα μέλιτι δεδευμενη, Suda μ 526); nótese que Arist. Eq. 1030-4 presenta a Cérbero como un perro glotón. Por otra parte, Ἅιδου τραπεζεύς recuerda el epíteto homérico de los perros criados como guardianes de una casa, τραπεζῆες κύνες (Il. 23.173, cf. 22.69 y Hsch. τ 1251), y encaja perfectamente con la visión cómica de Cérbero como perro doméstico de Hades (e.g. Arist. Ra. 467-8).

Aristarco de Tegea. Asclepio: R.S. amplía el contenido de 14 F 1 K.-Sn. y deduce, de las palabras de Eliano, que el conflicto dramático de Asclepio estaría centrado en la hubris de Asclepio, fulminado por Zeus por haber devuelto la vida a un héroe mortal a cambio de una compensación monetaria (pp. 405-6). A la vista de Aesch. Ag. 1022-4 y Pl. Resp. 408C, me parece una reconstrucción brillante. No me parece tan aceptable la atribución del fr. inc. fab. 5 a esta misma tragedia, ya que parece adaptarse mejor a un drama sobre la expedición de los siete contra Tebas: los resucitados por Asclepio fueron Licurgo y Capaneo según la versión de Estesícoro PMG 194; en ningún caso se menciona a Partenopeo, cuya conexión con Asclepio es inexistente. Aquiles: R.S. ve en Plauto Poen. 1-4 una parodia de Aquiles de Aristarco, a través de la adaptación hecha por Ennio (pp. 416-7). Tántalo. Según R.S., la tragedia dramatizaba la revelación por parte de Tántalo de los secretos de los dioses, con quienes compartía mesa (p. 418). Sería así distinta de los dramas homónimos de Frínico y Sófocles.

Euforión (p. 390). Habría sido deseable incluir una mención, al hilo del T 1, de la hipótesis de E.R. Dodds ("The Prometheus Vinctus and the Progress of Scholarship", The Ancient Conception of Progress and Other Essays on Greek Literature and Belief, Oxford 1973, 37-9), corroborada por M.L. West (Studies in Aeschylus, Stuttgart 1990, 70), de que Euforión compuso Prometeo encadenado y la estrenó haciéndola pasar por obra de su padre Esquilo.

Neofrón. Medea (pp. 428-30): Hay que tomar las informaciones de que Eurípides adaptó o "robó" la obra de Neofrón o que fue este último el auténtico autor de Medea (T 1-3) con muchísima cautela, ya que muy a menudo expresiones de ese tipo no quieren decir sino que la materia tratada en ambos dramas es la misma. Compárese, por ejemplo, la noticia de Glauco de Regio de que Esquilo "basó" (παραπεποιῆσθαι) Persas en Fenicias de Frínico (Aesch. T. 86 R. = Argum. Aesch. Pers.) con la noticia de Dicearco y Ps. Aristóteles de que Eurípides "hizo pasar por suya" (ὑποβαλέσθαι) la Medea de Neofrón (Argum. Eur. Med. = Eur. T. 85 k. = Neofrón 15 T 2 Sn.-K.). En otras ocasiones, dichas noticias son meras deformaciones cómicas aceptadas y transmitidas como reales por los biógrafos helenísticos.⁶ Una procedencia cómica o influida por la comedia de esta noticia puede explicar el hecho de que en la Suda ν 218 (T 1) se atribuya a Neofrón la introducción de recursos más asociados con la comedia que con la tragedia, como la tortura de esclavos. P. 443: Eur. Med. 1416-8 son versos formularios, que aparecen igualmente al final de otras obras euripideas como Alcestis, Andrómaca, Helena y Bacantes. No tienen, por tanto, relevancia para el análisis de la supuesta innovación del infanticidio voluntario de Medea. Pp. 441-4: R.S. sostiene que en la Medea de Neofrón Medea medita matar a sus hijos, pero finalmente no lleva a cabo su crimen. En mi opinión, R.S. no da argumentos de suficiente peso para sostener tal cosa a la vista de la rotundidad del F 2, cuya interpretación más sencilla es que Medea se está preparando para ejecutar el infanticidio, y a la vista de que no hay testimonios explícitos que asocien un cambio de idea de última hora de Medea con la versión de Neofrón: dada la polémica antigua sobre las semejanzas y autorías de ambas Medeas, un hecho como éste habría dejado indudablemente huella en los escolios. Además, si Dicearco (Argum. Eur. Med. = Eur. T. 85 k. = Neofrón 15 T 2 Sn.-K.) afirma que Eurípides basó su obra en la Medea de Neofrón, es plausible suponer que Eurípides encontraría el infanticidio voluntario en su supuesta fuente, y aun me atrevería a decir que, en el caso de que la tragedia de Neofrón fuera anterior a la de Eurípides,⁷ precisamente la coincidencia en atribuir la autoría del asesinato de los niños a la decisión voluntaria y vengativa de Medea, en lugar de a la cólera de los corintios o a un accidente (sch. Eur. Med. 264), es el dato que pudo hacer creer a los biógrafos antiguos que Eurípides se inspiró en o robó su tragedia a Neofrón.

Los capítulos se cierran con un apartado de bibliografía específica sobre los dramaturgos estudiados, a la que se añade una bibliografía general final. Indudablemente, la superfetación bibliográfica que aqueja a todas las áreas de la Filología clásica hace que recoger toda la bibliografía pertinente sin omisiones sea una empresa realmente difícil, pero aun así echo en falta al menos una mención de ediciones y comentarios realmente cruciales aparecidos antes de 2007, año de publicación del presente volumen. Así, por ejemplo, no se menciona la edición monumental en dos volúmenes de los fragmentos de Eurípides (R. Kannicht, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta V. Euripides, Gotinga 2004), ni el OCT de J. Diggle (Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta Selecta, Oxford 1998), ni el Loeb de H. Lloyd-Jones (Sophocles. Fragments, Harvard, Mass. 1996) ni las ejemplares ediciones con traducción y comentario de los fragmentos de Sófocles y Eurípides de la serie Aris & Phillips,⁸ junto con alguno de los títulos mencionados en las notas 1 y 2 de la presente reseña, que habría sido menester añadir en la p. 94. Asimismo, habría sido deseable tener en cuenta al menos las ediciones, comentarios y monografías sobre los poetas cómicos fragmentarios más relevantes, toda vez que el testimonio de los comediógrafos es necesario para la reconstrucción de varias piezas fragmentarias (e.g. pp. 73-7).⁹

El libro se cierra con un índice de fuentes, títulos, términos griegos y personajes mitológicos y con treinta y ocho ilustraciones (la calidad de reproducción de algunas de ellas es muy mejorable), que iluminan aspectos concretos tratados en el cuerpo del volumen.

Son éstos fallos menores que, en mi opinión, no detraen de la solidez del conjunto de esta obra, hecha con mucha dedicación, paciencia, ingenio y valentía y que viene a completar los aspectos y detalles omitidos o postergados en Musa Tragica. Los estudiosos interesados en la obra fragmentaria de los dramaturgos clásicos, por tanto, tienen motivos de agradecimiento a su autor.

Notes

1. Sólo algunos ejemplos: H. Hofmann - A. Harder, Fragmenta Dramatica Gotinga 1991; A. H. Sommerstein (ed.), Shards from Kolonos: Studies in Sophoclean Fragments, Bari 2003; P. Cipolla, Poeti minori del dramma satiresco, Amsterdam 2003; F. McHardy - J. Robson - D. Harvey (eds.), Lost Dramas of Classical Athens: Greek Tragic Fragments, Exeter 2005; M. Cropp (ed.), Euripides and Tragic Theatre in the Late Fifth Century Champaign, Ill. 2000.

2. E.g. F. Bubel, Euripides, Andromeda, Stuttgart 1991, A. Cozzoli, Euripide: Cretesi, Pisa-Roma 2001; M. Curnis, Il Bellerofonte di Euripide, Alessandria 2003; R. Falcetto, Il Palamede di. Euripide, Alessandria 2002; I. Karamanou, Euripides. Danae and Dictys, Munich-Leipzig 2006.

3. Un ejemplo: R.S. deduce de Frínico F 12 (Fenicias) que σφηκῶσαι• τὸ δῆσαι "sugiere unos prisioneros maniatados" (p. 248), pero en vistas del uso del mismo verbo en Il. 17.52 (πλοχμοὶ θ' οἳ χρυσῴ τε καὶ ἀργύρῳ ἐσφήκωντο) también podría referirse a los fabulosos adornos de oro de los persas que tanto llamaban la atención de los atenienses, y cuyo esplendor, prominente en Persas de Esquilo (3, 9, 24, 45), bien pudiera tener un precedente en Fenicias].

4. E.R. Dodds, Euripides. Bacchae, Oxford 1960, xxxi-xxxii.

5.Véase los datos en M. Librán, Lonjas del banquete de Homero. Convenciones dramáticas en la tragedia temprana de Esquilo, Huelva 2005, 339-40.

6. Véase sobre el particular M. Lefkowitz, The Lives of the Greek Poets, Londres 1981, 99-100; "Aristophanes and Other Historians of the Fifth-Century Theater", Hermes 112 (1984), 146-7.

7. Asunto sobre el que tengo mis dudas, ya que hay indicios de que la versión de Neofrón es posterior a la de Eurípides: cf. D. L. Page, Euripides. Medea, Oxford 1938, xxx-xxxvi.

8. Eurípides: C. Collard - M. J. Cropp - K. H. Lee, Euripides: Selected Fragmentary Plays, Volume I, Warminster 1995; C. Collard - M. J. Cropp - J. Gibert, Euripides: Selected Fragmentary Plays, Volume II, Oxford 2004. Sófocles: A. H. Sommerstein - D. Fitzpatrick - T. Talboy, Sophocles: Selected Fragmentary Plays, Volume I, Oxford 2006.

9. Echo en falta, por ejemplo: H. G. Nesselrath, Die attische mittlere Komödie: ihre Stellung in der antiken Literaturkritik und Literaturgeschichte, Berlin 1990; A.M. Belardinelli, Tessere. Frammenti della commedia greca: studi e commenti, Bari 1998; D. Harvey - J. Wilkins, The Rivals of Aristophanes. Studies in Athenian Old Comedy, Londres 2000; F. Conti Bizzarro, Poetica e critica letteraria nei frammenti dei poeti comici greci Nápoles 2000; R. Kerkhof, Dorische Posse, Epicharm und Attische Komoedie. Beiträge zur Altertumskunde, Munich 2001. (read complete article)