How did classical authors choose the manners of expression that they used to communicate their central ideas? What kinds of factors are involved in the creation of meaning beyond the chosen words? And how do these concerns interact with generic convention? To some, these questions may seem relatively straightforward, but in truth our understanding is quite limited, perhaps even in its infancy. Relatively few studies exist explicitly on the topic, mostly focused on particular authors or genres. This book represents the first attempt to lay the groundwork for, as Willi puts it in the introduction, ‘a true linguistic history of the literary genres of Ancient Greece’ (p. 1).
The authors of the papers face a tough task, to untangle the various factors that lead to linguistic variation attested in a wide range of sources, notwithstanding difficulties in transmission. Relevant here are the various interplays between: diachronic and synchronic factors; the demands of the audiences (both initial and subsequent, e.g. in re-performance?); the balance between traditional modes of expression and individual uniqueness; intergeneric or intertextual experimentation; and other factors. Perhaps more importantly, an appreciation of further ‘registers’, ‘voices’ or ‘codes’ has much to contribute to the traditional analysis of Greek (and Latin) texts.
This, then, is the core inquiry of the book, the 65th instalment in the series of the Foundation Hardt publications, publishing the proceedings from a conference in August 2018. Customarily for the series, the contributions are written in a mixture of European languages, with each chapter followed by a short discussion, also multilingual, containing critiques and further reflections. These discussions are particularly helpful, enhancing each chapter by providing clarity and informative suggestions for further inquiry. The book is broadly structured into three groups of articles covering the poetic language of the archaic and classical periods, the language of prose in the fifth and fourth centuries, and post-Classical responses to earlier literary texts. Here I will treat each chapter relatively briefly, discussing the main arguments proposed and how the chapters fit into the aims of the volume.
A. Cassio, ‘Metamorfosi della lingua epica tra Oriente e Occidente: da Omero alle laminette orfiche e alla celebrazione poetica dei dinasti della Licia’, discusses how the authors of two hexameter texts from the late fifth/early fourth century bc (the Hipponion gold-foil text and the Xanthus Stele Epigram) employ Homeric diction. Both texts, roughly chronologically contemporaneous but from wildly different geographic and cultural contexts, employ Homeric reminiscence through the use (and modification) of specific phrases. This raises key interpretative questions, brought out particularly in the ensuing discussion: should we analyse these reminiscences as examples of ‘intertextuality’ in the literary sense of carrying a meaningful allusion or as providing a more general Homeric ‘ring’? In turn, one wonders how a Homeric ‘ring’ in the Lycian epigram matches up with the strong Attic phonology otherwise present in the text. Are we to imagine reference to a written or an oral version of the Homeric texts? What sort of audience expectation should we imagine for such a context? The author and other contributors make admirable progress forging a path through these murky waters.
L. Prauscello, ‘Greek Lyric Kunstsprache between pan-Hellenism and Epichoric Influence: Two Case Studies’, deals with the effect on the language of lyric that comes about from a desire to encode the ‘Panhellenic’ or the ‘vernacular’. Prauscello's two case studies are Pindar, Olympian 1, ostensibly a Panhellenic ode celebrating the Olympic victory of the Syracusan tyrant Hieron, and a hexameter funerary epigram from the Boeotian town Kopai. Much of this chapter is devoted to arguing in detail that the interrogative τά (Ol. 1.82) is not in fact an intrusion of a colloquial Boeotian form, which would be out of place in such a Panhellenic poem, but actually a scribal mistake. Such an argument highlights the importance of textual criticism in our evaluation of dialect forms. Such issues are not at stake, however, for the funerary epigram, which clearly contains a feminine participle ending in -οισα. This remarkable form is a non-Homeric Aeolic feature, apparently out of place in a local Boeotian context, the main audience of which D. Page (Corinna [1953]) described as having unsophisticated tastes and only expecting local forms in their poetry. Prauscello argues that, because -οισα must have come from lyric, we should not think that poets like Corinna must never have considered Aeolic forms worthy of inclusion.
Willi, ‘Der Sprachraum der Tragödie’, undertakes a bold, all-inclusive analysis of tragic language, attempting to arrive at its ‘essence’ in a way that matches what tragedy does from a literary perspective. Willi concludes that tragic phonology, morphology, syntax, word formation, lexis and pragmatics are united by the tendency to systematically reduce what makes certain forms or words specific, with a view to the more general, with the further consequence that other specific elements undergo a sort of over-specification (p. 128). To provide just one example, on the morphological level, use of forms such as νιν or σφε is not intended to evoke particular dialects or genres, but rather because of the relative lack of specific information conveyed (as opposed to αὐτός/ή/όν). These subtleties of language constitute the linguistic counterpoint to much tragic content, which lends towards generalising reflection, and allows audience members to forge a closer connection with the characters, by asking themselves what they would do in the dramatised situations. There is a contrast here, Willi suggests, with the world of Old Comedy, situated in the ‘here and now’ and lacking this kind of linguistically encoded reduced specification. What separates Willi's analysis from previous analyses is that he moves beyond a vague sense that tragic language ‘alienates’ to a more particular function. This chapter raises many issues that would reward fuller treatment: for instance, further discussion on how the individual tragedians each employ this universal tendency or consideration of what differences there might be in the historical yet still removed and foreign world of Aeschylus’ Persians, since Willi puts most emphasis on the realm of myth, would be desirable.
A. Vatri's contribution, ‘Stilistica e parametri di variazone linguistica nella retorica greca’, responds to the questions posed by the volume by analysing the Attic orators according to the varying degrees to which their language exhibits spontaneity vs planning and co-involvement vs distance. Vatri uses statistical methods to determine how the authors differ from each other to statistically significant degrees and is able to plot where their corpora fall on the two spectrums. This rests on various methodological suppositions, above all the ascription of spontaneity, planning, co-involvement or distancing marking to linguistic features. For example, linguistic elements described as indicators of co-involvement include some adverbs of place (πόρρω, ἐκεῖ, δεῦρο), first-person pronouns and verbs, imperatives etc.; Vatri's indicators of distance are limited to passive and impersonal verbs. The results seem to justify his approach, since they cohere with extralinguistic features of the text: for example, Isocrates’ speeches score poorly on spontaneity and co-involvement, which would seem to be consistent with their status as written rather than orally delivered texts. Overall, the methodology is promising, and, used with care, the ‘big data’ approach could be applied effectively to other genres of Classical literature.
In the next piece, by L. Huitink, ‘“There Was a River on Their Left-Hand Side”: Xenophon's Anabasis, Arrival Scenes, Reflector Narrative and the Evolving Language of Greek Historiography’, narratological and linguistic perspectives are combined, as typical ‘arrival scenes’ in Xenophon and other authors are compared. Among other insights, Huitink observes that Xenophon uses the ‘reflector mode’ (broadly defined as focalising the arrival through the soldiers) when the Greeks in question are in Persian territory, but uses the ‘teller mode’ (when events are described objectively) when in familiar Greek settings (p. 201). These modes are discernible through different usage of tense. It is also claimed that Xenophon was a significant innovator in this manner of storytelling, which was then taken up by his successors. This chapter therefore illustrates well how individual authors can contribute to the narrative modes of a genre.
F. Schironi, ‘Naming the Phenomena: Technical Lexicon in Descriptive and Deductive Sciences’, discussing a generally understudied set of material, argues that different kinds of scientific literature employ different strategies in conveying their content. Mathematical poetry does not, it is revealed, employ technical lexicon and at the same time is not explicitly didactic. The opposite is true, however, for descriptive sciences, which are more didactic in nature but do appear less transparent, suitable only for readers ‘in the know’. These texts illustrate well the problems of intended audience, and the unique challenges in creating new terms in an intelligible way constitute an interesting foil to the communicative issues described in other contributions.
S.D. Olson's piece, ‘From “Canonical” Literature to Alciphro’, concerns imperial literature, and how its language interacts with the ‘canonical’ models. Olson shows how Alciphro uses words and phrases from texts throughout the classical cannon in four of his Epistles, but he also contends that these elements were not taken directly from the texts, but rather from scholarly lists of stylistically approved features. This paper therefore reminds us of the need to differentiate between intertextuality and the desire to forge a link, which is both general and generic, without constructing a bridge to a specific text.
F. Dell'Oro, ‘Choix d'auteur: les langues de l’épigramme épigraphique après 400 av. J.-C. et la liberté de choix des rédacteurs par rapport aux traits dits épiques’, traces the linguistic history of inscriptional epigram, suggesting that, as this generally understudied genre developed, and its language became more codified, individual authorial choice of which marked elements to include became a particularly significant factor. The material surveyed in this paper also highlights the difficulties in making certain categoric distinctions between dialect and genre, for example ‘Ionic’ and ‘epic’.
O. Tribulato, ‘Lingue letterarie e dialetti nell'esegesi antica’, closes the volume with a fascinating study of how the ancient dialects were perceived in ancient scholarship. Genre, rather than geographical region, was a key factor for these ancient scholars, who, it is shown, ascribe to Ionic, Doric and Aeolic dialects certain psychological traits. Especially interesting is when the judgement of later scholars matches that of an author such as Plato, because it hints at attitudes that might have existed in the classical period. Tribulato also argues, intriguingly, that the same dialect can be perceived in different and seemingly incompatible ways; thus Ionic can be regarded both as the prestigious language of Homer and also, elsewhere, as ‘soft’ and ‘effeminate’.
This is a richly informative and wide-ranging volume, which, it may be hoped, will stimulate much additional scholarship on this important topic.
