Linguistic naturalism and theological anthropology

Ioannes Glykys composed On Correct Syntax within a scholarly environment that favoured the production of prescriptive grammatical handbooks devoted to Classical Attic Greek, such as the grammatical works of Maximos Planoudes and Thomas Magistros.Footnote ⁹ While the treatise participates in this tradition, it also departs from it in significant ways. Glykys reopens philosophical questions that had largely disappeared from grammatical discourse after late antiquity, approaching them from theological and anthropological perspectives. This ambition is already signalled by the title preserved in the manuscripts, On the Correctness of Syntax (Περὶ ὀρθότητος συντάξεως), which recalls the subtitle of Plato’s Cratylus, On the Correctness of Names (Περὶ ὀνομάτων ὀρθότητος), and invites comparison with ancient debates on linguistic correctness. The importance of the treatise lies mainly in Glykys’ response to Plato’s Cratylus. While extending the discussion from names to syntax, he also reinterprets it within a Christian intellectual framework. In this context, grammar becomes closely connected with questions of correctness, human rationality, and communication. The treatise opens with the following lines:

Glykys’ claim that language is a divine gift enabling human communication (1.1–6) invites comparison with the opening of Basil of Caesarea’s homily Be Attentive to Yourself, where speech is presented as the means by which human beings disclose the intentions of their hearts and, through their shared nature, participate in communal life.Footnote ¹¹

Glykys next argues that speech belongs to humanity’s original, God-given perfection. In doing so, he rejects what he presents as the ancient Greek view that language arose gradually through human invention in response to necessity (2.18–28). Linguistic capacity is understood as intrinsic to human nature rather than as the product of historical development. Glykys thus shifts the discussion onto different ground; the familiar opposition between nature and convention that dominates much ancient reflection on language recedes into the background as Glykys redirects the discussion towards a theological account of language.Footnote ¹² The question is no longer how language first arose but how human beings exercise the rational capacities through which language becomes possible. What comes into focus instead is the way in which language expresses human rationality.

The opening reflections (2.19–25) establish the theological and anthropological framework for Glykys’ account of grammar. Language is introduced as part of the perfection of creation itself. Just as everything brought into being by the Creator is perfect, so too is the logos, presented as a gift bestowed upon humanity.Footnote ¹³ This theological premise shapes the anthropological argument that follows. Human beings are described as λαλητὸν ζῷον (‘creatures endowed with speech’), possessing the capacities for hearing and speech – the former intended for the reception of logos (2.25–9). The discussion then turns to reason and the human capacity to assign names, bringing together discourse, rationality, and naming within a single account of human nature:

The discussion of naming completes the anthropological argument with which the treatise begins. The authority to assign names follows from the place accorded to human beings within creation. It confirms the place of language within Glykys’ account of human nature, in which human beings are presented as perfect and rational.

Glykys was not the first Byzantine author to connect language with rationality. The association has a longer history and forms part of a broader reflection on human nature that runs through Byzantine thought. One of its most influential formulations is found in the writings of Gregory of Nyssa. Gregory does not imagine languages as descending fully formed from God. What God grants is the human capacity for speech. Individual languages arise within particular communities and develop through use, their diversity reflecting the different ways in which people live together, communicate, and make sense of the world. Gregory places considerable weight on human participation in the formation of language. Differences in naming arise from linguistic usage, while the nature of the things designated remains unchanged.Footnote ¹⁶ In this respect, Gregory’s account shares an important feature with the conventionalist tradition in attributing the assignment of names to human beings.Footnote ¹⁷ Like Gregory, Glykys presents the capacity for language as a divine gift, while viewing the act of naming as a human activity.

Although logos was first bestowed for the preservation of life, the Creator also granted the beginnings of wisdom and the arts, which human intellect gradually brought to fruition. Glykys presents human beings as driven towards wisdom by reason and wonder, which together inspire the search for a techne through which knowledge can be acquired and shared (3.3–13). Grammar occupies a central place within this intellectual endeavour, as it provides the means by which knowledge is organized and communicated. The broader conception of language developed by Glykys becomes particularly clear in the following passage:

Glykys here emphasizes the proper division of the parts of speech and their harmonious arrangement. Correctness, natural order, and coherence are valued because they enable language to fulfil its intellectual purpose. Grammar is conceived as a preparation for knowledge more generally, providing the means through which other branches of learning become more readily accessible. The intellectual activity presupposed by this account of grammar recalls the Cappadocian understanding of ἐπίνοια (‘conception’). For the Cappadocian Fathers, ἐπίνοια is the activity of the intellect through which what is apprehended is divided into its different aspects so that it can be expressed conceptually and communicated in language.Footnote ¹⁹ Glykys’ use of the cognate participle ἐπινοήσας (‘having conceived’, 3.20) to describe the division of the parts of speech suggests a comparable understanding of grammar as an intellectual activity through which knowledge is first organized and then expressed in language. Grammar thus gives linguistic form to the work of the intellect.

This intellectual activity is inseparable from the organization of discourse. Knowledge becomes communicable only through the relations established within language. In this context, Glykys attributes a central place to κοινωνία (‘human association’, 4.21), a notion embracing ideas of relation, association, and participation. Glykys first discusses koinonia in relation to human interaction, bringing together the persons who participate, the things that form the object of their common activity, and the purposes that shape their actions. He then applies the same principle to discourse, in which nouns and verbs are held together by koinonia and coherence. Grammar is therefore understood as the organization of discourse that gives linguistic form to the relations that constitute human communication. Words acquire meaning through the place they occupy within this ordered structure. It is in this sense that Glykys’ claim that syntax follows the koinonia of human beings and things is to be understood (5.18–26).

The same concern with relations also underlies Glykys’ account of human association. This broader conception of koinonia becomes clearer in his distinction between natural and practical forms of association (4.28–5.13). Both arise from the fundamentally relational character of human existence. Because human beings are not self-sufficient in the manner of divine or eternal beings, they necessarily depend on one another.Footnote ²⁰ Whether grounded in kinship and common origin or in exchange and mutual need, every form of association responds to the same condition of human incompleteness. Koinonia belongs to the very structure of human life, enabling human beings to achieve what they cannot accomplish individually.

From his account of human association, Glykys turns to the role of speech in sustaining communication. He distinguishes between speech as a natural human capacity and speech as the object of grammatical cultivation. The distinction reflects the growing complexity of human association. As communication extends beyond the immediate needs of life, it requires a more systematic organization capable of expressing persons, actions, and the relations between them with precision. Grammar accordingly emerges as the discipline that orders speech through correctness and coherence, making the acquisition of knowledge possible. By organizing discourse in accordance with these principles, grammar enables language to meet the communicative demands of human association (5.13–23). This organization is achieved through the interaction between cases and verbs. The cases articulate the relations between persons, actions, and things, while syntax organizes those relations into coherent discourse, thereby giving them linguistic form.

What first appears as a series of separate discussions thus reveals a common underlying concern. The origin of language, grammatical relations, linguistic change, and correctness are part of a single inquiry into the principles governing language. Glykys’ concern is to explain why syntactic order takes the form that it does. Throughout the treatise, Glykys relates that order to human rationality and human association:

This passage demonstrates that Glykys grounds syntactic order in nature and reason, presenting them as the principles that render it intelligible. The same conception informs Glykys’ understanding of grammatical restoration: he aims to recover what time has obscured and thereby restore access to the principles that underlie linguistic order. The central question for Glykys is why particular forms came to be regarded as correct. From this perspective, the original patterns of syntax assume particular significance because they preserve the principles according to which syntax was first conceived. Ancient authors are valued insofar as they preserve those original patterns. Their authority derives from the explanatory framework provided by nature and reason (33.27–34.20).

For Glykys, the main question therefore becomes what those original principles are and how they remain discernible despite the continual transformation of language. Glykys addresses this problem through the image of a river whose branching channels diverge from a common course (4.2–10). The image suggests that later linguistic developments may diverge from the original patterns while still preserving traces of the principles from which they emerged. The image directs attention away from individual forms and towards the relations that continue to connect them to their common origin.

Glykys returns to the question of original principles later in the treatise when discussing linguistic restoration. Because language changes over time, linguistic variation gives rise to errors and ambiguities, making grammatical inquiry an ongoing task. He describes the consequences of linguistic change in the following terms:

This passage introduces a further dimension of Glykys’ argument. Because language changes over time, recovering the original principles is an ongoing task of grammatical inquiry. Linguistic origins matter because they preserve the conditions under which syntax was first conceived. Grammatical inquiry is therefore directed towards the principles that govern language itself. Ancient authors are important because their writings preserve those original patterns through which the principles governing language can be observed.Footnote ²³

The discussion of linguistic change gradually broadens into a reflection on memory and time. Glykys presents forgetfulness, the attraction of novelty, and the passage of time as forces that progressively obscure the knowledge of earlier generations (58.17–27). Forgetfulness, the ‘greatest disease’ (τὴν μεγίστην […] νόσον, 58.11–12), affects memory itself, steadily eroding what was once known and leaving only faint traces of knowledge within the soul (58.5–16).Footnote ²⁴ Language shares in this condition; its history is marked by the same tendency towards loss and uncertainty that characterizes human life more generally. Glykys’ discussion ultimately addresses the question of how knowledge is preserved and transmitted. At its centre lies the contrast between what changes and what endures. Linguistic mutability becomes one instance of a more general condition governing created existence, as formulated, for instance, by Gregory of Nyssa. For Gregory, mutability belongs to everything that has come into being through creation, while uncreated nature alone remains immutable.Footnote ²⁵ Glykys’ understanding of language is consistent with this view: because language itself belongs to the created order, it too is subject to change.

Glykys’ discussion of forgetfulness returns to the problem explored through the river metaphor, albeit from another perspective. Whereas the river image emphasizes the continuity of language despite historical change, forgetfulness concerns the gradual loss of the knowledge needed to recognize that continuity. The order underlying language endures even as awareness of the relations sustaining it gradually fades. Grammar therefore has the task of recovering those relations and the principles that govern linguistic order. Yet, recovery is not enough; knowledge must also be preserved and transmitted. At the close of the treatise, Glykys addresses his son directly, presenting the work as an act of paternal instruction while also placing it before a wider community of learned readers (58.32–59.6). The intimate pedagogical setting thus forms part of a broader effort to preserve and pass on grammatical knowledge.

The grammatical cases and linguistic relations

Glykys’ conception of linguistic order is most obvious in his treatment of the cases. The significance of the cases lies in the relations they articulate between persons, things, and causes. It is through the interaction of cases and verbs that these relations find linguistic expression. Each case possesses ‘its own expression and meaning’ (ἰδίαν τὴν δήλωσιν καὶ σημασίαν) and its own syntactic arrangement, one that is ‘according to nature’ (κατὰ φύσιν) and ‘according to the appropriate principle of reason’ (κατὰ λόγον τὸν προσήκοντα) (8.20–5). Glykys uses etymology to explain how the names of the cases correspond to the relations and functions they express. Etymology was understood as a linguistic and philosophical practice concerned with uncovering the true meaning of words and, through them, the nature of the things they signify. This understanding formed part of a wider Byzantine tradition of linguistic reflection.Footnote ²⁶ Glykys’ engagement with Plato’s Cratylus should be understood within that tradition.Footnote ²⁷

The idea that the cases possess their own meanings was well established in the grammatical tradition. The ways in which grammarians explained those meanings, however, varied. For example, Apollonius Dyscolus (second century CE) developed a systematic account of the semantic functions of the cases through their syntactic relations with verbs.Footnote ²⁸ The scholia to Dionysius Thrax’ Art of Grammar explain both the semantic functions of the cases and the meanings of their names, understanding grammatical case as a category of meaning.Footnote ²⁹ Gregory Pardos (twelfth century) relates the cases and their denotations to syntax, while Maximos Planoudes explains them in terms of the semantic and spatial relations they express.Footnote ³⁰ Glykys builds on this tradition of semantic and etymological explanation, integrating it into a broader account of grammatical relations.Footnote ³¹

In antiquity, the status of the cases had been a topic of debate. The Stoics regarded the nominative as an ‘upright fall’ (ὀρθὴ πτῶσις), whereas the Peripatetics recognized only the oblique cases as genuine πτώσεις, treating the nominative as an ‘upright’ form rather than a πτῶσις.Footnote ³² Glykys follows the Peripatetic position, considering the nominative and vocative direct forms rather than proper cases (5.28–35). The relational character of syntax becomes especially clear in his explanations of these forms. By defining them as standing outside syntactic relation, he identifies the expression of relations as the defining characteristic of the oblique cases (7.8–32, 8.21–11.3).

Glykys’ interpretation of the cases combines grammatical description and etymological inquiry. The names of the cases become part of the syntactical explanation, since they are taken to disclose the relations that each case signifies. The discussion of the genitive offers a clear illustration of this approach. Instead of assigning separate meanings to individual uses, Glykys looks for the relation that allows them to be understood together. Possession, origin, and deprivation are interpreted as different expressions of the same relational structure, organized around the connection between part and whole (8.21–9.12). The treatment of deprivation is particularly revealing. What first appears to be an independent function is ultimately explained through the same relation, since the possibility of deprivation is understood as implicit within the relation between part and whole (13.26–14.3).

The dative, by contrast, is associated with forms of interaction between persons and thus with practical koinonia. For this reason, the dative occupies a central place in Glykys’ account, allowing him more clearly than any other case to relate grammar to his broader ideas on human association. Giving, benefit, cooperation, and participation all belong to this sphere. Even verbs that appear at first sight to contradict the meaning of the case are brought within the same framework. Actions such as threatening, becoming angry, or expressing irritation are therefore understood as instances of ‘involuntary giving’ (9.13–30). Rather than treating these as separate meanings of the dative, Glykys interprets them as different manifestations of the same underlying relation. Giving stands at the centre of Glykys’ account of the dative. Receiving does not constitute an independent relation but follows from an act of giving already accomplished. The etymology of the case name reflects this principle: δοτική (‘dative’) is derived from δίδωμι (‘to give’), because giving constitutes the primary relation on which receiving depends (9.13–30).Footnote ³³ Glykys interprets the various uses of the dative – benefit, cooperation, participation, and even hostility – as expressions of a single relation directed towards another person. His comparison of ἀκούω σου τάδε (‘I hear you saying this’) with ἀκούω σοι τάδε (‘I hear this for your sake’) illustrates the point. Although the verb remains the same, the relation to the person changes: the genitive presents the person as the source of what is heard, whereas the dative presents the same person as the beneficiary of the action.

The prominence of the dative in Glykys’ discussion is best understood in the context of Palaiologan Greek. Staffan Wahlgren has demonstrated that, although the dative had disappeared from the spoken language, it remained productive across a wide range of fourteenth-century learned texts, including works of relatively modest linguistic register. He interprets its continued use as evidence of a shared grammatical competence among educated Byzantine writers.Footnote ³⁴ Within this linguistic context, Glykys seeks to explain the different relations the dative continued to express. The dative therefore provides him with a particularly rich field for exploring the relational principles that lie at the centre of his grammatical thought.

Glykys’ discussion of the accusative further illustrates his tendency to explain apparently diverse constructions through a single semantic principle. Rather than assigning separate meanings to individual uses, he seeks the relation that unifies them. In Glykys’ view, the accusative is organized around the notion of wholeness. The distinctive function of the case is to denote what is complete and undivided; the accusative is used wherever what is expressed is ‘not something partial but a complete and whole thing’ (10.30: οὐ μερικοῦ τινος ἀλλ’ ἀκεραίου πράγματος καὶ ὅλου). Accordingly, verbs such as ‘I ask’ (αἰτῶ), ‘I receive’ (λαμβάνω), ‘I acquire’ (κτῶμαι), and ‘I possess’ (ἔχω) belong together because each presents its object as a complete entity rather than as part of a larger whole. Glykys complements this account with an etymology of the case name. Deriving the term for accusative (αἰτιατική) from αἰτία (‘cause’), Glykys begins with causation as its characteristic use. Since, when attributing a cause, the whole person or thing is presented as responsible, the accusative is used more generally to denote any complete and undivided object (9.33–11.3).

This tendency to derive grammatical distinctions from the underlying semantic relation recurs throughout the treatise. The discussion of κρατῶ offers a good example of Glykys’ method. In the expression ‘holding a spear’, the verb κρατῶ takes the accusative, whereas it takes the genitive when it means ‘to gain the upper hand over an enemy’. The contrast reflects the different relations established by the action; in the first case, the spear is presented as the direct object of the action, whereas in the second, the genitive expresses the relation of superiority established over the opponent (11.22–12.2). The same interpretative principle appears in Glykys’ discussion of an example from Aristophanes. Commenting on the line οὐ γὰρ μετεῖχες τὰς ἴσας πληγὰς ἐμοί (‘you did not share the same blows as I did’, Plutus 1144), he does not treat the accusative as an anomaly requiring correction. Instead, he explains the construction through the relation expressed by the accusative. The blows are presented as a complete object rather than as something in which one participates only in part; the example thus illustrates the accusative’s association with wholeness and confirms Glykys’ account of the case (19.31–20.24).

The Aristophanic passage was interpreted in different ways by other Byzantine commentators. John Tzetzes (twelfth century) approaches the passage as a question of Attic usage. Rather than explaining the accusative itself, he paraphrases the construction into what he regards as the corresponding Attic genitive (τῶν ἴσων πληγῶν ἀττικῶς).Footnote ³⁵ The later Byzantine scholia (thirteenth–fifteenth centuries) distinguish two meanings of μετέχειν, relating the choice of case to the lexical meaning of the verb: with the genitive it denotes participation or sharing (κοινωνεῖν); with the accusative it refers to possessing something as a whole after someone else has previously possessed it.Footnote ³⁶ Although this explanation also invokes the notion of wholeness, the emphasis falls on the lexical meaning of the verb rather than the semantic value of the case. Glykys, by contrast, accounts for the choice of case through the semantic value of the accusative itself. The construction is neither normalized through an appeal to Attic usage nor explained by assigning a different meaning to the verb. Instead, Glykys treats this example as evidence for the semantic value of the case rather than as an exceptional construction requiring grammatical or lexical justification.

A similar problem regarding case selection arises in Glykys’ discussion of Psalm 72:23. Presenting his discussion as a response to a student’s query, he considers the Septuagint’s use of the genitive in the phrase ἐκράτησας τῆς χειρὸς τῆς δεξιᾶς μου (‘you took me by my right hand’). Because verbs of grasping normally take the accusative, the construction initially seems anomalous. Before addressing the grammatical construction itself, Glykys establishes the principles that govern its interpretation. He begins by rejecting what he presents as the common explanation, namely that those who translated Scripture into Greek transferred a Jewish idiom into their translation. Such an explanation is incompatible with his understanding of the translators’ mastery of Greek and the linguistic perfection of Scripture (20.33–21.3). He therefore treats the construction as a problem to be resolved within the resources of Greek syntax itself:

Glykys explains the choice of the genitive in terms of the semantic relation it expresses. Instead of emphasizing physical grasp, the construction conveys divine governance and sustained support in a manner consistent with God’s transcendence.

The principles governing the relations expressed through the individual cases also extend to Glykys’ conception of syntax as a whole. This becomes particularly clear in his comparison of discourse to a living body whose limbs and joints are held together in harmonious order:

The image of discourse as a living body offers a useful perspective on Glykys’ conception of syntax. The parts of speech are understood as elements of a larger whole whose coherence depends upon the relations between them. Solecism consequently appears not as an isolated mistake but as a structural defect. Describing it as ‘lameness in discourse’ (χωλότης ἐν τῷ λόγῳ), Glykys presents grammatical error as a failure of proper connection (συνάφεια) and syntactic arrangement (σύνταξις) within discourse itself (35.6–14).Footnote ³⁹ Elsewhere, Glykys likens the spread of defective linguistic forms to the transmission of disease (37.27–8).Footnote ⁴⁰

This conception of syntax also explains the prominence accorded to syntactic correctness throughout the treatise. For Glykys, grammatical correctness and stylistic refinement serve different purposes within discourse. Attic idioms and stylistic elegance contribute grace to a text, and their absence merely diminishes its stylistic quality. Syntactic error, by contrast, disrupts the relations that constitute discourse and becomes, in Glykys’ words, ‘a source of great shame and ridicule’ (πολὺ τὸ αἶσχος καὶ ὁ γέλως) (35.7–14). The implications of this view extend beyond the explanation of individual grammatical forms. Like other works of Byzantine philology, On Correct Syntax belongs to a broader tradition in which grammar and literary interpretation are closely intertwined. For Glykys, interpreting a text involves explaining the grammatical relations expressed within it. His distinctive contribution lies in making those relations the object of systematic explanation.

This method becomes particularly clear in Glykys’ treatment of an example from Homer. Discussing the line ἄμφω δ’ ἑζομένω γεραρώτερος ἦεν Ὀδυσσεύς (‘when both were seated, Odysseus was the more distinguished’, Iliad 3.211), he resolves the grammatical difficulty through the semantic relations expressed within the sentence itself (37.30–38.22). Although one might expect a genitive absolute (ἀμφοῖν δ’ ἑζομένοιν), Glykys accepts the nominative, since both the participle and the predicate refer to the same subject. What appears at first sight to be a grammatical difficulty is resolved through the relation between the elements of the sentence itself: Odysseus is simultaneously the one seated and the one described as more distinguished. Once this relation is recognized, the construction no longer presents a grammatical difficulty. The same passage is treated differently in Eustathios’ commentary on the Iliad.Footnote ⁴¹ The prominent twelfth-century scholar interprets the unexpected grammatical form as an apparent solecism connected with improvisation, treating it as a deliberate stylistic device that reflects the extemporaneous character of Antenor’s speech. At first glance, Eustathios therefore appears to converge with Glykys in regarding the construction as intentional rather than erroneous. Their explanations, however, differ: Eustathios explains the construction through the passage’s stylistic and performative character, relating the unusual form to the dramatic situation represented in the narrative. In contrast, Glykys locates its explanation in the semantic relations expressed by the language itself.

Final remarks

On Correct Syntax occupies a distinctive place within the grammatical tradition of the Palaiologan period as it brings together syntax, grammatical correctness, literary interpretation, and linguistic change within a single explanatory framework grounded in grammatical relations. Glykys’ return to the Cratylus reflects a renewed concern with the explanatory principles underlying language. Plato’s dialogue opened a space in which language itself could become an object of philosophical inquiry. Questions concerning the grounds of meaning and the relation between language and reality re-emerge in On Correct Syntax, where Glykys redirects them from the study of names to the relations through which grammatical forms are connected and explained. Such an engagement with the classical tradition is characteristic of the intellectual culture of the Palaiologan period. Glykys’ distinctive contribution lies in treating grammar as a means of reflecting on the relations that underlie language.

Seen in this light, the distinctive place occupied by syntax within the treatise becomes easier to understand. Byzantine grammatical writing had long been associated with education and textual interpretation. Syntactic questions were certainly discussed, yet syntax rarely became the object of sustained theoretical reflection in its own right. Glykys approaches the subject differently: what interests him is not grammar viewed as a collection of forms, but as a network of relations. The cases acquire significance through the relations they express, while syntax organizes those relations into coherent discourse. Grammatical analysis thus reveals the structures that make communication and human association possible. This perspective also explains why grammar and interpretation are so closely connected throughout the treatise. Glykys is rarely satisfied with the simple observation that a construction has occurred in earlier authors or has become established through common usage. Authority remains important, but it rarely settles the discussion. Glykys instead asks why a particular form should be regarded as correct in the first place. Grammar is valued not as a means of preserving the past for its own sake but as a way of recovering the enduring principles that persist beneath historical linguistic change.

Glykys’ search for explanation reaches beyond linguistic correctness in the narrow sense. It also shapes his approach to constructions that seem difficult or anomalous, prompting him to return repeatedly to apparently irregular forms in order to understand them. The same perspective informs his treatment of linguistic change: although linguistic forms evolve, the grammatical relations they express remain unchanged. The originality of On Correct Syntax lies precisely in its sustained effort to explain grammatical forms through the relations they express. Syntax, logos, and koinonia are brought together through a shared concern for the conditions that make meaning possible. Grammatical relations reflect the forms of association through which human beings act and communicate. Grammar provides the means of recovering those enduring relations even when linguistic change or the passage of time has obscured the forms through which they are expressed. Throughout the treatise, the meanings of the cases, syntactic correctness, literary interpretation, linguistic change, and the origin of language thus form part of a single explanatory project.