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o.; Jk' errotet'Teli Aryat'TtAepo. 102 Just as the inscription is semantically simple and straightfmward, so it is visually simple and straightforward.
98
See Powell 1991: 166 fbr the suggestion that the separated lines may reflect the symposiastic skolion where guests would sing to the lyre one after another, thus each speaker receiving his O\V11 written line.
99
Robin Osborne, to whom I am grateful for sharing "Writing and Other 'Graphic Traces'" before it was published (n.d.(b)), also concludes that the inscription reveals aesthetic sensitivity, but in a slightly different way than above: "It [the inscription] is so placed that the part of the geometric decoration across which it runs is not the metopal panels but an area decorated with horizontal zigzags and straight lines." Furthermore, he asserts, "the letters cut across the straight and zigzag lines that decorate the area helow the row offour geometric 'metopcs', and in cutting across them introduce a play ofpalterns." 100
D.S'AG2 83-84, 88, no. 22, pl. 6; Wachter 2001: 171-172, EUC 3; Lorber 1979: 13, no.IO; Hoppin I 924: 3, no. 1; Boston, MFA 98.900. Image from LS:1ci. WI See above, 51-53 tor discussion of its rdationship to other l~arly potters' signatures. 102
Greek after Wachter 2001: 172.
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70
Figure 3.
l<~uboean
aryballos, c. <175-650. Boston, l\1:FA <>8.900.
The small, squat vessel is covered primarily in concentric bands of slip, with rays licking the foot and hatching adorning the handle. Small, somewhat inegular dots are interspersed throughout small decorative areas on the foot and handle. As such, the cu:vballos is rather simply ornamented, allowing the painted letters to stand out as decorative elements on an otherwise sparingly adorned surface. The visual effect of the writing is more than just a general one, however. Like the placement of the writing on the Dipylon Oinochoe, the placement here causes the writing to stand out, as it emphasizes the widest part of the aryballos, that is, its capacity for containing valuable liquids such as scented oils. As writing placed on the shoulder zone, sometimes reserved for animal friezes or figured scenes with filling omament, the inscription effectively becomes the main decorative panel of the vase. The painter, conscious of the dipinto's place ofh.onor, has taken special care to apply evenly spaced, neatly drawn letters. He has also insured that the division marking the end (or beginning) of the inscription is tucked away beneath the handle in vvhat
becomes the back of the aryballos and that crroteuev, which faHs between the two proper names, comes exactly in the center of the vase under the center of the mouth. Again, the
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71
painter has treated the letters as integral to the decorative schema and here, unlike the previous graffiti incised afier fidng, he has imagined them as part of the original decorative motif fbr the aryballos. The lid of a Protoattic lekanis irom about the third quarter of the 7111 century, c. 630-20, reveals a similar regard tor the visual effect of writing, perhaps even
incorporating a visual pun (fig. 4). 10'1 While the artifact is said to be from Phaleron, the alphabet in which the dipinto is written eludes the identification of provenance. As Immerwahr notes, the writing is probably not Attic since the lambdas are reminiscent of the Argive form and the gamma and sigma are Ionic. 104 Nevertheless, the painter was playfully aware that the odd, perhaps confusing mixture of fonns wou]d result in a meaningful aesthetic effect for the viewer.
Figure 4. Attic lekanls lid, c.
630~620.
Athens, NM 852.
103
Immerwahr 1990: .l 0, no. 17, pl. 2, fig. 6; Athens, NM 852. Image fmm Imnmnvahr.
104
Irnmerwahr l 990: 10.
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72
The round interior of the lekanis lid contains a circular, retrograde dipinto in applied black slip: ?vKAut; rl-fp,udo. Although the translation ofthc Greek is open to interpretation, w:~ I prefer the traditional reading, kuklos Glemydi'5, "circle of Glemydas.'~ 1
interpret this as an owner's signature that plays with the visual context in which the signature lies. Because the writing is structured around a small, pai.nted circle in the center of the lid and is framed on its outer edge by another, larger circ1e, the cyclical pattem of the whole piece reverberates in the content of the inscription; the word meaning "circle" is both contained within and simultaneously helps to create a circle eidographieally, As if to reinforce the point, the inscription both begins and concludes with letters made up of small circles, the lcoppa and omega, respectively. Thus the circular dip into is framed by circular letter shapes just as the eli pinto as a whole is framed both internally and extema11y by painted circles. The semantic meaning of the painted words contributes meaning to the visual effect of the dipinto, and vice versa. This inscription reveals a symbiotic relationship between these two, inextricable registers of lexigraphic and sematographic writing. My final example of decorative writing in an abstract context comes from a Boeotian myballos from Thespiae, dating to the first half of the 6th century (fig. 5). 106 The graffito contains one of two extant signatures of the potter Gamedes, 107 in the tradition of the formuJaic potter's signature: fav.ede~ erroerre. The writing is incised
----·-------105
See Immerwahr 1990: 10 for alternatives. Based largely on the visual context in which it resides, [ choose to follow the translation suggested by Kretschmer 1894: 100 and Bt~nndorf 1868: text to pl. 30.6. 106
Wachter 200l: 16-17, BOI 7B; Hoppin 1924: 17, no. l; London, BM 1873. 2'8. 2 (formerly London, BM A 189). Image from Wachter. See W;:~chter 200 I: 16-17 for bibliography and discussion of thtl authenticity of three total such signatures. He concludes that the aryballos under consideration here is an authentic signature nnd we may believe Gamedc:s to be the potter. 107
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73 vvithin a band running around the widest part of the vessel, here the belly and, as such, fi.mctions as a decorative bm1d with emphatic placement.
Figure 5. Boeotian aryballos, c. 600~550. London, BM 1873.2-8.2.
This effect is enhanced by the fact that the rest of the vase is adorned with simple, incised patterns. Tlu:ee bands run above the inscription as well as three below, so that the inscribed band stands out as symmetrically and centrally placed. W11ile the band directly below has been left completely blank, the others feature vertical lines, crosshatching, and chevrons, all of which resonate with the shapes ofthe etched letters as well as cause them to stand out as the most visually interesting application to the surface of the
aryballos. Although a relatively rare practice on ceramic objects, this graffito was incised
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74 before Jiring 108 and so, like the painted Pyrrhos aryhallos above, we can. conclude that this integration was an intcnti()nal part. of the original aesthetic plan of the object's surface.
to& Wachter 2001: 17 agrees with L. Burn and D. Williams, per their personal correspondenct\ that the letters were inscribed in a panel that was purposely left unadorned so that letters could be inscribed then;,. Likewise, Wachter asserts, the decoration, namely the incised chevrons, leads right up to the letters on either end of the inscription and so must have been added afler the writing.
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75
V. Inscriptions in Figural Contexts A. Non..Atti.c The fifteen objects arranged chronologically in this section offer a representative sample of aesthetic inscriptions in non~Attic script. They fall between c. overwhelmingly dip inti on Corinthian pots,
109
725~550
and are
although tbe graffiti on the bronze
Mantiklos statuette fl"om Boeotia prove similar in their function. In contrast to wlit.ing amidst abstract decoration, here the writing most often interacts with humans and animals, participating in the story told by those tigures, and less frequently integrates
with the non~figural adomment. Because the writing on these objects engages with figures, often in a narrative, it takes on a depth of meaning not seen in the examples exarnined in the last section. The earliest inscription well enough preserved to afford an analysis of its relationship to the surrounding figurative decoration is also the earliest dipinto. 110 A small fragment of a krater from Pithecussae, made in the tradition of Euboean Late Geometric pottery and dating to a quarter of a century later than the Dipylon Oinochoe, features the earliest extant potter's signature in retrograde black slip: [-~~]tvo~ !k'
€1!0t€t:re
(fig. 6). 111 Although both the name, presumably in the nominative case, and the rest of the vessel are lost, enough remains to suggest a direct relationship between the writing and the figure beneath it.
109
Indeed, half of aU non~ Attic inscribed vases comt~ from Corinth a! om~ (Wachter 2001: 4).
110
Powell1991: 127-128, no. 10; Jeffbry 1976: tig. l. Osborne n.d.(b). Image from Powell.
111
Greek after Powell 1991: 128.
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76
Figure 6.
Pithccouss~m
kratcr fragment, c.
725~700.
The horizontal band that contains the dipinto is topped by rows of vertical zigzags and flanked both above and below by horizontal lines. In what may have been a metopal panel designed to highlight the figural scene, the head (and wing?) of a fantastic figure, perhaps a sphinx or a siren, remain in a frontal pose. Despite the scanty remains, the writing appears to interact with the visual narrative because, as R. Osbome notes, the signature must have finished above the middle of the figured scene below, and so, by virtue of their shape and placement, "the letters provide a transition between the regularity of the typically unadventurous, geometric pattcms of the rim and the nongeometric and irregular decoration."
112
The dipinto echoes the zigzags and hatches since
the letters themselves resemble these very shapes, most notably the sigmas, iotas, and
epsilons, and so the writing here functions aesthetically on two levels: it provides a necessary contrast between the decorative registers and unifies both registers by blending elements of both.
------·-·-----112
Osborne n.d.(b).
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77 The graffito on the Mantiklos figurine, 1u named for its dt~dicator, offers a second, non~ Attic exarnple of a decorative inscription interacting with a figural representation (fig. 7). In contrast to the medium of the fonner example, here we have a hexametric dedicatory graffito on bronze.
Furthermore~
the figure with \:vhich the writing
interacts is three~dimensional, rather than the more typical two*dimensional scenes on clay vessels. Dc;spitc these contextual differences, the similarities in the function ofthc writing ure striking. Reportedly found in Boeotian 'I'hebes, the small statuette of a warrior, with triangular head, torso, and lower extremities (broken off at the knee), is Geometric in style and dates to c. 700-675. The inscription is preserved in two lines of continuous, vertically oriented "'false" boustrophedon weaving back and forth on the thighs with the letters facing in the same direction throughout, rather than featuring the reversed letters of true boustrophedon. 114 Reading left~to-right and beginning with the outer line, the first hexameter speaks forth, personifying the figurine and naming its dedicator, Mantiklos, as well as the dedicatee, the "silver-bowed far-darter": MavTtKAo~ f.k' ave8eK€ peKa/3oAot apryupoTO%UOI.
115
The second hexameter snakes back on itself, looping inside the first
inscribed line, and indicates the cost of commissioning the statuette, a tenth part [of Mantiklos' spoils], and concludes with a direct address to Apollo, beseeching him to
m LSAG2 90-91, 94, no. I, pl. 7; Hansen 1983: 175-176, rw. 326; Powclll991: 167~ 169, no. 61; Boston, MFA 03.997, lmnge from LSAG1.
115
Greek after Powelll991: 168.
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78 favor the dedicator in return for his votive gift: Ta.~ {O'}O't:IKa/ra~·
Tl.l
lJe·
The writing on this bronze warrior is complementary to other physical details of the figure also marked out by incision. The pectoral and abdominal musculature, although relatively crude, are deJined by incised lines, as are details ofthe head and hair. Although inscriptions typically run horizontally, this one reads vertically, a fact that can be explained, in part, by the availability of space: the thighs of the watTior are large enough to accommodate the dedicatory hexameters. The chest, however, is just as viable a space, if the only matter under consideration was space for the letters. In my view, the inscriber intentionally placed the inscription on the legs as a way ofparalleling, mirroring, and balancing the long, braided, locks ofhair that frame the face. The outer strand of writing
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79
mimics the outer lock of hair just as the inner hcx.amctcr rct1ccts the smaller braids closest to the warrior's face.
Thus~
the double locks ofhnir and the double strands of
writing reflect one another, creating symmetry in a piece which otherwise may have appeared top-heavy. 116 Fragments of a Middle-Late Protocorinthian pJxn:~, from Acgina (fig. 8), 117 c. 675-
650('?), reveal an entangled relationship between word and image, which wiii endure throughout the subsequent l 00 years of Corinthian vase-painting and prove a major .inf1uence on later Attic style as well. Seven separate pieces ofthe so-called Tclcstrophos Pyxis remain, six of them with painted letters. Combined, they represent a wedded(?) man and woman in a chariot, the wheel and axis of which are also extant. A winged horse, whose lower belly and patis of legs survive, seems to draw the chariot, advancing toward the viewer's right. Continuing toward the right around the pyxis, a hoplite, Telestrophos(?), advances also in that direction, some armor and the tip of his greaves just visible. Rendered in black slip with incised lines for added detail, the scene defies further interpretation, 118 but the placement of the writing within the extant elements carries its own message. Filling in the space under the horse's legs is ~oar;, boldly and crisply rendered, presumably the
----~-------·--
116
It is worth noting too that the boustrophedon method itself is indicative of "a pictorial conception of the letters as outlined llgures which can be turned in either direction according to need" (LSAG 1 48). 117
LSACi' 125, 131, no. 4, pl. 18; Wachter 2001: 34-35, COR l; Amyx 1988: 30, no. 1, 556-557, no. l; Lorber 1979: 7-9, no.l, pl. 1; Aegina K 267. Image from Lorbt1r. 118
Among the conjectures are Amphiaraos and Eriphyle (Studniczka .1899: 361··378), or a Hieros Camos, neither of which is sustainable based on what remains (Wachter, 2001: 35; Amyx 1988: 30, 556~567).
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horse's name.
1 19
80 The name circles under the horse, between its legs, emphasizing the
movement of its legs as it advances, a visual cue suggesting motion on a Hxed, static surface. The message ofmomcnturn is further emphasized for the literate viewer, if the reconstructed name is correct, because it is a "speaking name" meaning "quick" or "active.'' Thus the eidography of the word reinfhrces its meaning, and the word functions simultaneously on sematographic and lexigraphic levels, enhancing the scene's dynamism.
Figure 8. Aeginetan py::ds, c. 675-650. Aegina K 267.
The same techniques have been applied to the identification of the male warrior who also strides forward. Although R. Wachter chal1engcs D. A. Amyx's reconstruction
ll'l Amyx 1988: 557 notes that this is a common heroic name and need not only apply to Arnphiaraos' horse as argued by Stndniczka 1899: 361-378. Wachter 2001: 35 warns that the dipinto could be retrograde, allowing for the reading, Xa.oQf ... ]. There is no conclusive evidence to suggest the proper reading direction and as such, I fhllow the more traditional ~oa..;, although the visual efTect of the word remains the same regardless of its meaning.
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81
of the name as Te~~[u]'rpo
identically to the horse's label. The name winds its way underneath the warrior, between his legs as he strides forward. Here as wel1 the preserved part of the name serves as a semantic complement to its function as visual referent. That is to say, the word connotes a twisting or turning or whirling action, definitions which describe both the movement of the warrior and the shape and placement of the word itself. 121 Despite the epigraphical lacunae, I conclude that these letters are remnants of figural name-labels, names which were most likely non-heroic "speaking names" and served to accentuate, both semantically and visually, the actions of the figures to whom they belong. A Protocorinthian olpe from an Etruscan tomb at Veii, now popularly known as the Chigi Vase, also features dipinti name~labels from the early Corinthian period (fig. 9). 122 Dating to c. 640-630, this vessel remains one of the finest pieces of Corinthian pottery, its polychromy, emphasis on human figures, and fine miniature style are among its hallmarks. It is also notable for preserving the earliest visual representation of the Judgment of Paris among other fiiezes of superbly executed florals, hop lites in battle fom1ation, animals, a chariot and riders, and hunting scenes.
120
Wachter 2001: 35, after the more traditional rec:onstmction of Lorber 1979: 7-·9; Amyx 1988: 556-557.
It is also worth noting that the root verb, q-rpcf4ud, is ust~d in the archaic period of horses, e.g., Iliad 8.168, Oc~vssey 15.205 and so is contextually appropriate here. 121
122
Wachter 2001: 31. PCO 2; Amyx 1988: 32, no. 3, 557, no. 2; Lorber 1979: 14-16, no. 13, pL 2; Rome, Villa Giulia 22679. Im<~gc from Rasmussen 1991: 61, nos. 23, 24.
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The Chigi Painter, perhaps a non~Corinthian working al Corinth, 123 labeled the
82
tigures of Paris (AA[ ... ]. os), Athena (A8avata), and .Aphrodite (A
:Figure 9. Corinthian olpe, c. 640-630. Rome, Villa Giulia 22679.
Paris' label runs vertically, paralleling the length and stance of his body as he faces the group. Based on the ti·agmentary remains of Hermes' staff, it is likely that his inscription would have run vertically too. Thus Paris' name and (probably) Hermes' staff 123
This is likely since the sigma, iota, and delta are not Corinthianletler-forrns. Suggestions include Aeginetan, Rhodian, Laconian, or Syracusan origins, although scholarly conscusus remains elusive (Wachter 2001: 31 and with additional bibliography). Greek aJt~:r Wachter 2001: 31. Presumably, Hermes and Hera would have been similarly labeled, but th(~ fragmentary nature of this part of the vase prevents us trmn knowing fbr sure. 124
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83 would have separated Paris from the group of goddesses and their guide, showing Pads as not integral to their group and highlighting his ultimately advcrsarialrolc amongst the other flgures. Athena's name, rather than running vertically like those of Paris (and Aphrodite), trails horizontally behind her. By placing her name in this position, the painter c.reates an internal frame for the scene: Aphrodite's label turns at a right angle to Athena~s,
forming the boundary of the frame. Although the remains are too fragmentary
to afford any secure conclusion, I suggest that because the (only) two extant vertical labels belong to Paris and Aphrodite, they are iconographically paired by the placement of the writing, reminding the viewer of Paris' all-important choice as the eye is drawn thnn one figure to the other.
Why does the painter add inscriptions to only one scene from many, and that scene tucked away on the "back" of the vase underneath the handle? Perhaps he intended to call attention to the otherwise unobtrusive scene, placed as it is between a lion-hunt and horsemen and charioteer. A late ih-century clay alabastron from Samothrace, now lost, presents a similar, although more developed use of name-labels (fig. 10). 125 The dipinti, in the Corinthian script, are reminiscent of those on the fragmentary py;ris from Aegina, in both placement . 126 d· ramat1zmg . . a. symmetnca . 11y arranged scene 1.eatunng 1:': • and dua1 fiunctton, t h. ree women
fighting against three men, Amazons against Hcracles and his alhes. All six figures are labeled and, despite difficulty in the readings of the Hrst and last names, integral to the scene. The labels illustrate the difference in power between the 125
Wachter 2001: 36#37, COR 4; Amyx 1988: 557, no. 4; Lorber 1979:25-26, no. 24. hnage from Lorber.
126
J:7or the Aeginetan py.x:L1·, see above, 79-81, fig. 8.
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84
t1g11res, and thus highlight the drama in the scene. The ternale pair on the len has vertical,
lefHo~right
labels; the male pair on the right has circular, righHo-lefl labels. All
four figures have their names between their l.cgs, whereas the labels marking Androrneda and Heraclcs extend from their bodies as they anticipate the moment when they will clash in battle.
Figun~
10. Corinthi~m alabastron, c. 630~600.
As J. Henderson has shown, the actual shape and placement ofthe names is meaningful.
127
Beginning from the viewer's left, the figures are labeled, AP.e'ttJLa .. ,
MKtvopa, Av~poJLe~a, Hepai
127
Ffenderson 1994: 87-98. Much of what fbllows here is indebted to his explication of the scene.
12
~ Greek after Wachter 2001: 36. The labels of the rightmost male and k:ftm()St female are unde<~r. Although consensus remains impossible without the recovery of the object, perhaps these namt~,Jabds, which effectively ttame the scene in their outermost positions, arc cady examples of nonsense namt1s, used more for their visual ciTect than their semantic one. This possibility seems particularly likely since the interpretation of the two names in this last position of the battle array are so vexed.
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action of the male figures themselves as they "wheel into action,"
129
also in a right~to-
85
left direction. llcraclcs' nmne fills in th"' central, otherwise empty space, where the conflict is most intense. His label extends toward the foremost Amazon as a projectile, a continuation of his spear~ point; the name eidographical1y winds down fi·om his weapon and abuts Andromeda's leg. making contact with her body as will the spear soon. Andromeda's natne, reading left-to-right like the other two names on the lcfl of the scene, folds back in on itself in a manner of retreat, suggestive of her imminent corporeal collapse. 'The labels of the two figures behind her run vertically, one between her legs, the other between the last two figures themselves, a defensive response to the whirling, advancing movement ofHeracles' comrades. The fbrward, revolving motion of the right flank of warriors will overpower this defense, however. The two women behind Andromeda, after all, both lean back on one leg, bodies exposed to the viewer. The name of the Amazon in final position separates her from the penultimate figure, prohibiting the interlocked, unified strength suggested on the other side by the interwoven legs of the male warriors. Another Early Corinthian vessel from the last quarter of the ih century, a clay
myballos from Carystos(?) with Corinthian dipinti, is decorated with two name-labels (fig. 11). 130 The names, in bold, black letters, apply to two male figures: Ht7rrro/3aTa£",
'·
29
Henderson 1994: 90.
130
LSACi 131, no. 10, pl. 19; Wuchter 2001:39, COR 7; Amyx 1988: 558, no. 7; Lorber 1979:20-21. no. 18, pl. 3. Athens, NM 341.1mage frmn Lorber.
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86 the figure ~.
f~trthest
to the viewer's left walks behind two horses, one of which <:nrries
As with the alahastron just considered, like the "circle of Glemydas," 132 or the
Telestrophos Pyx is, 133 the names function sematographically, their eidography ref1ecting and reinforcing their meaning. The retrograde label identifying the warrior on foot runs vertically behjnd him, both framing the overall scene on the vase, as well as leading down into the ground, planted there like the feet of the figure whom it modifies. His name must be a "speaking name," playfully identifying the man walking behind the horse as "horse walker." 134
Figure ll. Corinthian aryhallos,
,~.
625-600. Athens, NM 341.
nJ Greek aft~~r Wachter 200 I: 39. 132
See above, 71-72, fig. 4.
m See above, 79-81, fig. 8. 134
For these as "speaking nam~Js," Wachter 200 l: 258.
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87 The Jabe.l belonging to the rid<.~r occupies the space between the walking and riding figures. In juxtaposition to the linear, vertical line created by the first name, the second name curves down from the head to the waist of the rider, the shape resonating with the curve of the walker's shield while indicating the ft1rward motion ofthe horse. His label, too, recalls his function; he is "horse turner," the -strophos of his "speaking name" eidographically recreated in the twist of the shape of the name itself. The technique employed on this Early Corinthian ar:vballos continues in the Middle Corinthian period (c. 595-570), as exemplified by two similar vessels. One is a clay aiJ'ballos from the Temple of Apollo at Corinth that preserves a painted label and a metrical dedication (fig. 12).ns The other is a clay kotyle from Attica attributed to the Samos Painter, featuring painted Corinthian name-labels (fig. 13). 136 This aryballos portrays a performance. The .t1gure farthest to the viewer's left is a flute-player labeled llo)wrep7ro<; who faces right and plays his diaulos as the figure in front of him jumps in the air with his hands raised, presumably dancing. Behind the dancer stand three more pairs of dancers, separated from one another by the stream of letters that pours out of the flute, snaking across the surface of the vase. Visually, the flute is the source of the continuously winding hexametric dedication: llupFtacrnpoxopeuo~-tevouw..JTofJeFotoAna, i.e., llupFta; npoxopeuo~-tevo.;· auTo fJe FOt
m LSACi 126, 131, no. 14c, pl. 19; Hansen 1983: 251, no. 452; Wachtt~r 2001: 44-47; Amyx 1988: 165, C2, 556, 560, no. 1.7; Lorber 1979: 35-37, no. 39, pl. 8. Corinth C-54-l. Image from Lorber. L'>'AG1 126, 131, no. l4b, pl. 19; Wachter 2001: 48~51, COR 19, Amyx 1988: 190, no. A4, 561, no. 19, pl. 73(2); Lorber l979: 34-35, no. 37, pl. 9; Paris, Louvre CA 3004. Image fron1 Lorber. 136
137
Greek after Wachter 2001: 45.
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88 The retrograde '·speaking name" of the diaulos-player initiates the serpentine pattern of the writing on the myballos and simultaneously describes the ''very pleasing'' effect of the musician's playing, as well as cidographically integrating his figure within the flow of the wdting. 138 Whereas the writing curves its way over and beneath the other figures in the
scene~
the tlute-player himself is part of the stream of writing. suggesting
his role as the catalyst for the words that would have accompanied his playing.
Figure 12. Corinthian aryballos, c. 595-570. Corinth, C-54-1.
The hexameter preserves the occasion of the dedication and artfully guides the eye along the clements in the scene. It labels the leading dancer, framing his figure within its first sweeping loop> rivpFia~ rrpoxopen.JOjl,€Vor;, and refers to itself as his possession,
133
.For IloAUTep1TO.;" as a "speaking name," Wachter 200 l: 258.
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''(This is) Pyrwias the dancer, and his (js) the olpa." 139 This aryballos must be the olpa, the very prize won by Pyrwias' dancing;. 140 The remainder of the hexameter, (LiliO ae
89
fOl
oA:rra, serves to mark off the dancers from one another physicatly, further isolating Pyrwias as the leader and the winner. One cannot help but think of the parallels to the probable nature and occasion of the inscription on the Dipylon Oinochoc, despite the fact that that is a graffito and this a dipinto. 141 Let us now consider the contemporary clay kotyle. One scene features Heracles and the H.ydra, the other smaller scene shows padded men dancing. Although the scenes are vastly different in subject rnatter, the writing unifies them visually and clarifies to which of the two scenes one figure belongs. On one side, a pair of horses, labeled Hepat
a jug. Next, a figure labeled Hepat
13
')
Wachter 2001: 45.
140
Wachtcr 2001: 47. The interpretation of this inscription bas varied \videly and Wachter is cxhausti ve in his treatment and consideration of the previous arguments. I find his conclusions, mostly based ou linguistic and epigraphical cornparandu., wholly convincing and as such, do not find it necessary to repeal' the argumt~nts to the contrury. See pp, 45-47 for extensive bibliography and discussion of the history of scholarship. 141
See nb,we, 64-66, ilg. 1.
142
Greek after Wachter 200!: 49.
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90 whereas Iolaos' label fills in the space bctvv'ccn his .legs, soliditying his stam.~e as he readies tbr an
atta,~k
from one of the tnonstcr's
head~.
Figure 13. Corinthian kotylc, c. 595-570. Jlaris, Louvre CA 3004.
The "speaking names" of the dancers highlight and reinforce the rhythmic pattern of their action, semantically and visually, lexigraphically and sematographically. 143 Continuing left-to-right, we come first to the only figure of the six padded figures who is not dancing. He stands under one of the kotyle handles and has his hand in a dinos. fiis label
Aop?itot; reads left-to-right and, as Wachter notes, detives from Aop?iow, "to toss
one's head back" (LSJ). Thus his name suggests that he is dipping his cup into the dinos
143
Since there are only five names for the six figures, there has been some confusion about which name applies to which figures; here, I fhllow Wachter 2001: 48-49.
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to fill it with wine and will throw his head back as he takc1s a drink.. 144 His label curves
91
Crom the level of his padded rear end down toward the foot of the dancer next to him, thereby joining him in the action despite the fact that he does not dance. The next two dancers, Fha}je;qw;; and Hat XVI OS'; form a lively pair, facing one
another, each lifting a foot and swinging his arms ..From avO'aww, the former name indicates that he, or rather his dan.cing, "gives pleasure," while the latter name, an alternative form of 1Tat'j1iw~, "playful/~ also rdnforces the action of the dancer (LSJ). 145 Additionally,the placement of the names is meaningful The raised foot ofr:haO'e<1'tOt; is supported by his name whose retrograde arc recalls the passing swing of his foot This eidographic label also buoys the raised knee of his partner flatxvw~, reminding the audience that these two interact in the course of their dance. Paidmios' name, also retrograde, frames the pair, curving down toward the ground as if pushed into its shape by the momentum of the dancer's raised foot. Although the fourth figure is dancing, both of his feet are on the ground, which may account for the lack of a label-there is no need to accentuate the movement of his feet. He faces another dancer, labeled ?otJ-10~, whose movements embody the meaning of his retrograde "speaking name." Derived from
KW~tor;,
the name is appropriate for
someone engaging in "meiTY reveling with dancing and wine." 146 Finally, the last dancing figure, who faces the horses ofHeraclcs, bears the label [.]ogw~. Ifreconstmcted as
144
Wachter 2001: 49.
145
See Wachter 2001: 49~50 for further discussion of the linguistic details and etymolog.ies of these n
146
Wachter 2001: 50.
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92
and names, resulting in an aesthetic unity on the surface of the cup. Another piece from the Middle Corinthian period, a clay flask or lagynos from Kleonae, has both linear and curvilinear dipinti name-labels as well as a painter's signature, the earliest example of this type of inscription, quite rare at Corinth (fig. 14). 148 The vase shows Achilles' ambush ofTroilus, with several other figures. Beginning from the left side of the "unrolled" sketch of the scene, 149 two old men, IIpeattor:; and
'1::oo:t6eo<;, face right and greet a woman carrying a basket on her head. She has tumed back fi~om where a young male, Tpo . tAo<;, leading a pair of horses,
Auo/3at; and
Sav6or:;, 150 waits for another woman to .fill a jug in a fountain with a lion-headed spout.
147
Wachter2001: 51.
Wachter 2001: 55~57, COR 27; Amyx 1988: 210, no. l, 563-564, no. 27, pl. g4(la-b); Lorber 1979: 3738, no. 40, pl. 10; Hoppin 1924: 12-13, no. 1; Athens, NM 277. Image from Lorber. 148
149
Because of the poor preservation of the vase's sul'f~1ce, a sketch of the scene is most often pub Iished and analyzed rather than the vase itself. For images of the drawing and the vase togetht1r, see Amyx 1988: pl. 84(1a-b); Lorber 1979: pl. 10. As Wachter 2001: 56-57 demonstrat~~s. the first nmne is problematic, eluding a cond.usive.liuguistic interprctatiou, perhaps from ava.uopf'w, "to ~tart the game (in a hunt)," Of an unatit~stcd ll
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93
Thick foliage drapes over th" f(mntain behind which a large anncd male labeled Ap:;tA€u~ crouches. In the field around Achilles' body, the paintt~r takes credit, T'ttwvtlla:;
/L€'Ypa .
€.1s1
Just as the nan·ative unfolds fro.m the left to the right, so too the writing reads leftto-right, according with the direction for "reading'' the scene. The dipinti also visually
link the figures, suggesting interaction where the figural painting alone could not. Priam's label arcs from the level of his chest to the head of his companion, linking them a<; a pair. So too the label of Priam's companion curves toward the woman he faces, originating
from just below his head and resting finally in fi:ont of her face, suggesting that they are speaking to one another. Finally, Troilus leads his horses by means of some sort of strap or tether, the image of which is reinforced by his name-label extending from the advancing legs of the horses toward the hand which guides them.
Ji'igurc 14. Corinthian lagynos, c. 595-570. Athens, NM 277.
Where Achilles waits is highlighted in several ways. First, the scene is marked off from the rest of the narrative by the rectilinear frame created by a tree-branch on the left and the abstract painted decoration on the right. The writing around Achilles' body
(Wachter 2001: 336-340). For further discussion of names of horses, see also Wachter 2001: 261-262 and Amyx 1988: 553-554. 151
Greek after Wachter 2001: 56.
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94 further accentuates this intemal frame, us Timonidas' signature streams first in a vertical line, and then runs perpendicuJarly under the shield and Achilles' name itself completes the frame within in which he crouches. While the other name~ labels on the vase join the fi.gures to one another, the writing here solidifies Achi.lles ~ solitary stakeout, doubly separating him fi·m11 the other figures and stressing his imminent attack. The design on this vase consists of a balance of opposites, contrasting linear and curvilinear elements. The part of the scene featuring Priam, the horses, and Troilus contains dipinti .in curved shapes that both offset the relatively linear figures and unite the figures by trailing from one to the next. Conversely, the dipinti around Achilles square off a space otherwise dominated by the high arc of his helmet and the large, round shield in the center, and function as a bulwark separating him from the other figures. The shape of the writing not only reinforces the relationship between the figures, but assists in achieving an aesthetic balance in the scene. The final piece fi·om the Middle Corinthian period that bears examination is the lid ofapyxis from Corinth, the name~vase of the Dodwell Painter (fig. 15). 152 The lid is adorned with eight, evenly spaced human figures, at least four of whom are part of a boar-hunting scene. 153 The space between the figures is filled with both painted inscriptions and abstract filling omament.
Wachter 2001:59-61, no. 33; Amyx 1988:205-206, Al, 565, no. 33, pl. 86(L:~-b); Lorber 1979:45-46, no. 52, pl. 14; Munkh SH 327. Image from Lorber. 152
m Amyx 1988: 33 agrees with .Lorber 1979: 46 that only f(mr of the figures properly correspond to the boar hunt since the four figures that precede them are separated by a standing bird that has no ostensible role in the narrative. Wachter 2001: 60 interprets aU eight figures as involved in the boar hunt. Since neither reading affects the prt~scnt annlysis, I nm not compelled to accept one interpretation over the otht~r.
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95 The direction for the narrative is
left~to-right ~
because almost all the figures face ~
right. The name~ labels for the figures, beginning at the left, identify A'}'af.LEJkVO'J./ who holds a ke1:vkeion, MKa, a female who touches the head of a boy, 1:1.oplf.La.xoc;, und another female, labeled 'LaKt<;. Next. separated H:om the first group of four by a bird with its neck turned back, come the boar-hunters Avapu-ra!) and Aa?ov, the former advancing with a spear, the latter with his bow. Finally, (PI.Aov lies felled beneath the boar as 0ep(J'avapor; attacks il from the other side. 154
Figure 15. Corinthian pyxis lid~ c. 595~570. Munich S.H. 327.
154
Greek after Wachter 2001: 60.
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96 The Dod well Painter has an at'linity fbr oricntalizing anirnal friezes that he decorates with ample filling ornament, so much that at times hardly any of the clay background shows through the painting. 155 H.is technique of filling space between figures with decorative rosettes is comparable to iilling that same space with carefully arranged
dipinto labels. 156 As such, \vriting and abstract decorations are interchangeable, pcdbnning an identical aesthetic function, as on this pyxis lid. The Late Corinthian painter, Chares, also treats writing as comparable to and interchangeable with Jiller omament, exemplified by the scene on a claypyxis, c.
570~
550, which, like Timonidas' Troilus and Achilles, features dipinti name-labels as wen as his painter's signature (tig. 16).
157
Chares' artistic ability is disparaged by most scholars,
characterized by H. Payne, for example, as in the running ft)f ''the distinction of being the worst Greek vase painter who has left his name upon his work." 158 The quality of painting is, admittedly, not fine, and may have contributed to the way Chares chose to use writing within the scene. 159
155
E.g., Hamburg 1897.221 (Amyx 1988: pl. 87).
156
Wachter 2001: 60, "in many of the places where there are inscriptions on the vase the painter would have otherwise put some filling ornament that is scattered all over the painting.'' LSAG2 114; Wachter 2001: 70-71, COR 57; Amyx 1988: 255-256, no.], 569-570, no. 57, pl. 110(2); Lorber 1979: 56-58, no. 83; Hoppin 1924: 8-9. Paris, Louvre E 609. Image from Hoppin. 157
tsx
Payne 1931: 322 us in Amyx 1988: 255.
159
Amyx 1988: 570, arguing against the possible Homeric origins of the scene, suggests that "there is no reason to believe tl1at Chan:~s did more than add names to his poor painting to make it more attractive."
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97
'Figure 16. Corinthian pyxis, c. 570-550. Paris, Louvre E 609.
Ten men, eight of whom ride horses, ,figure in the fdeze, an unspeci11ed riding scene with heroic characters from the Trojan Cycle. 160 The two men without horsesand perhaps therefore without names as well- run behind five men atop horses advancing left-to-right The first two riders are IIaAaJ,Le~e~ and NeUTop and they follow
IlpoT€0:{Aa; who rides atop the horse, Ilo~apyo;. Next, IlaTpOKAo; tides on BaAtO; trailing after A;:oMeu; who rides on 2(J'av8o;. 161 These, in tum, encounter three horseand-rider teams facing them and advancing fi·om the right. More painted labels tell us that
Achilles meets EKTo[p] riding OptFOV, accompanied in the rear by MeJ,Lv[ov] on Ae8ov
160
Wachter 200 I: 70.
161 it is not uncommon for the stock names of horses to show up on multiple vast1S, e.g., Xantlws, although it is slightly more tmcommon that just as the horse names Balios andXanthos appear togeth~~r here, they art: also the names of two horst~s on a Late Corinthian o/pe from Caere, Louvre E 648 (Amyx 1988: 581, no. 89; Lorber 1979: 57, 71, no. 108, pl. 29). For more on Balios, Wachter 2001: 333-334, 336·340 and on
other heroic horse names, 261-262.
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98 and the series concludes with a nameless horse and rider. The space ordinarily occupied by the horse's name has been filled instead with the painter's signature, Xa.pf:'t;
Above, we examined the technique of accentuating motion, especially that of running legs, t(1J but it bears pointing out again here, too. The cycloid labels of rider, Protesilaos and horse, Xanthos, for example, remind the viewer of the rolling motion of a
horse's gallop. The dot-cluster rosettes bchvccn the legs of the first running man and the first horse, both nameless, serve an identical function, eidographically signaling the cyclical movement ofthose Hgures. Thus Chares creates a sense of symmet1y, bahmcing the abstract rosettes on one end ofthe frieze with the loop of his signature on the other end. The method of decoration is inconsequential since both written and abstract ornamentation have the same visual etTect and are only slightly different means to the same aesthetic end. A Late Corinthian clay olpe from Loutraki reveals a similar, although finer and more stylized, use of writing (fig. 17). 164 Here, too, dipinti appear among horses, although the differences are notable. Dating to c. 570-550, this vase bears a striking resemblance to styles of Attic dipinti on vases produced in the years immediately afterwards, particularly those ofExekias. 165
162
Greek after Wachter 2001 : 70.
lt•~ With particular reference to horses see, e.g., 79-81, fig. S. 164
Wachter 2001:93, COR 87; Amyx 1988:580-581, no. 87; Lm'ber 1979: 7fPl, no. 107. pL 29; Athens. NM 521. Image from Lorber. 165
For the discussion of similar Attic vas~~s sec below, 124-132, figs. 31-35.
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99
}figure 17. Corinthian olpe, c. 570~550. Athens, NM 521.
The scene on this olpe features, from the left, a charioteer and a quadriga, accented by a curious lizard in the field to the right of the horses. The charioteer, named
AKaJ.Lar:;, "untiring," drives the four named horses, although it is not clear which horse bears which name. The horses are ?uMapor:;, "bandy-legged.''
AuO'moAtr:;, "deliverer of the city" and again, ?uMapor:;. The last labeled figure is the lizard, called AuKaAa/3o;, "lizard" (LSJ). 166 While the names are semantically meaningful, reinforcing the actions, behaviors, or roles nonnally attributed to horses (and, at least in this case, lizards), they are meaningful visually as well. The two ?u/J..apor:; name-labels create a unifying curve,
----·---------· 166
Greek after Wachter 2001: 93.
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100 filled out in its center by the bucking heads of the horses themselves. Likewise, the name
We now turn to a small group of inscriptions that make no semantic contribution to their scenes, and as such, function as purely aesthetic elements in their visual context. 168 They are all Late Corinthian nonsense dipinti and are preserved on an amphora fi·om Capua (fig. 18 ), a globular oinochoe from Corinth (1ig. 19)> and a psykterneck-amphora whose provenance is unknown (fig. 20). 169 The poorly preserved scene on
the amphora, painted by the Andromeda Painter, is one of pursuit; two men, one with bow and arrow and the other with a spear, engage in combat with an archer on horseback.
167
Amyx 1988: 553, n. 2 notes that Kyllaros is related to but not quite in the same category as tlu·owaway names, both being "equally indicative ofthe writer's poverty of inspiration." Although Wachter 2001: 255256 does not include tllis as an example of a semi·throwaway name~ label, its presence twice on the same scene suggests that it properly belongs to this group. See above, 48-51 for fhrthcr discussion of such types of labels. 168
For the differences between "throwaway names" and "nonsense" under which may be grouped "mock and near-sense," ·'meaningless," and "imitative" inscriptions, as well as "blots and dots" and their relative geographical distribution, sec above, 49. 169
For the amphora: Amyx 1988: 268, A2, 601; Lorber 1979: 60-61, no. 89, pl. 20; ZUrich ETH B-4; image ti"o.m LOJ:bcr; for the oinochoe: Amyx 1988: 269, Al, 601; Lorber 1979: 69-70, no. 105, pl. 28; London, BM B 39; image from Lorber; for the psykter: Amyx 1988: 267, 1, 601, pl. 122( 1a-d); Lorber 1979: 86, no. 136, pl. 42; Brussels R 248. Image~ from Lorbt:r.
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101
Figure 18. Corinthian amphora, c. 570·550. Zurich ETH B-4.
The globular oinochoe, attributed to the Tydeus Painter, shows two hoplites in combat, each flanked by a standing horse and rider.
Figure 19. Corinthian oinodtoc, c. 570-550. I,ondon, UM U 39.
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102 The p.s:vkter, the name-vase of the so··callc~d Painter ofthc Brussels Dancers, features padded male f1gures with exposed genitals accompanied by nude fern ales, all of\vhorn dance.
Figure 20. Corinthian psykter, c. 570~550. Brussels R 248.
The dip inti on all three of these vessels are visually meaningful despite their lack of semantic meaning. The repetition of the letters AOM in the meaningless inscription on the amphora, for example, articulates the details of the conflict in the scene; on the far left, a stream ofletters runs through the overlapping legs of the two attacking men, uniting them in their common struggle. Conversely, another line of letters marks this pair off as distinctly separate from and in opposition to the archer on horseback as it blocks off the space between the advancing leg of the speam1an and the hindquarters of the horse. So, too, the false names on the oinochoe dramatize the hoplite duel. The hop lite on the viewer's left overcomes the hop lite on the right and the curve of the meaningless
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103
names, Nopwe; and 07ar:p41 frames the (:urvc of the loser's shicld.
170
The writing
belween the legs of the losing warrior eidographically highlights the bend in his legs as he folds in defeat, succllmbing to the advance of his opponent.
The writing amongst the dancers on thcp.s~vkter also ernphasizcs the motion and interaction of the figures, closely paralleling a similat· scene of padded males dancing on the Middle Corinthian clay kotyle examined above. 171 While legible names drmnatize the lively, rhythmic movement of the dancers on the kotyle, here, illegible, meaningless names perform an analogous function, their eidography mimicking the dancer's movements. Writing that can not be read lexigraphically nonetheless contributes to the
aesthetic organization of the scenes on these vessels and communicates with the viewer sematographically.
170
Gret:k after Lorber 1979: 70.
171
See above, 89-92, fig. 13.
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104
V. Inscri(>tious i.n
~"~igural
Contexts
B. Attic The fifteen objects analyzed below illustrate general develop.ments in Attic epigraphy from the middle of the th century through the red~.figure technique of the late archaic period, c. 480. In contrast to the chronology of the artifacts examined in the last section~ the majority of these cluster around the second and third quarters of the 6th century. While Attic pottery reaches new heights of production during this period, other centers of production, especially Corinth, suffer nearly complete decline. The original direction of influence, however, from Corinth to Attica, continues to be realized in the way Attic potters and painters use painted inscriptions to decorate their vesse]s. One of the earliest Attic vessels to preserve writing in a figural context is a Middle Protoattic skvphos, c.
650~620,
a small fragment of which remains today (fig.
21). 172 Two painted panels from the rim of the skyphos, which would have been near the object's right handle, contain the remnants of a dipinto owner's signature, -~]vi\o I etp.,t vac. 173 Just below the signature, on the upper body of the cup, a large fish faces right, swimming amidst squiggly, linear waves above and more stylized, capping waves below. 174
172
LSAG:: 76, no. 5d; lmrnerwahr 1990: 9, no. 13, pl. 2(10); Beazley 1986: 7, pl. 7(1); Athens, Agora P 7014. Image from fkazley. 173
Greek after lnu:nerwahr 1990: 9.
174
The waves below the tlsh are not visible in the photograph in Irnmerwahr 1990: pl. 2(1 0) although the photo in Beazley 1986: pl. 7(1) shows them clearly.
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105 Like the shcrd .th>rn Pithccoussac which preserves the earliest dip into, an artist's signatun:~ 175 thi:> !:>herd too, despite the ihtgrncntury nature, reveals the artist's consideration of the placement of the ·writing in relation to the rest of the decoration. We
can irnagine that the first part of the narne of the owner would have begun just over the rear fin of the fish, centering the
t\\<'O
panels over the large fish below. Thus the painter
achieves compositional unity and highlights the importance of the scene. Furthennore, the writing reads lefl-to-Iight, the same direction the fish swims, resulting in congruous scanning of both sets of images for the viewer. Finally, the letters adom the plain panels on the rim, perfonning an ornamental role in a field which would otherwise stand out in stark contrast to the more richly decorated body of the skyphos.
Figure 21. Attic skyphos, c. (iS0-620. Athens, Agora P 7014.
Although a different medium, the hard, grey-white marble of an Attic funerary stele, the so-called Keramo stele, also offers an early example of aesthetically-informed
writing, now graffiti on stone (fig. 22). 176 According to L H. Jeffery, the stele dates from
175
See above, 75-76, f.ig. 6.
/G 12 997; L,SA02 44~45, 71, 76, no. 8, pl. 2; Immetwahr 1990: 23, no. 79; Athens, .EM 10646. See also, Jeffery 1962: 129, no. 22, pl. 36c. Image fl·om LSA Ci. 176
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11
the middle to latter half of the i ct:mtury, making it the earliest extant .Attic stele.
177
106
The fragmentary, triangular remains fortunately preserve most of the original, retrograde hexameter corrnnemorating two deceased J1gures, Enialos and Keramo: EmaAo
.Figure 22. Attic stele, c. 650·600. Athens, EM l 0646.
The placement of the writing on this artifact is remarkable. Despite the fact that the words comprise a single, hexamctric sentence and thus would ordinarily run in a
Jeffery 1962: 129; LSACl44~45; 76 is a bit more conservative: "c. 625~600'?" lmmerwahr 1990:23, however, dates the inscription to the "very early sixth century, much later than Jeffery's date of 650 or Ihe second half of the seventh." Because Immerwahr tails to justifY his change in date whereas Jertery 1962: 129 bases her conclusion on a comparison of "the rather straggling, spidery effect, and in particular the small omicron, and long-tailed rho and upsilon, with the lettering on Attic shcrds and vases of the th century," I accept Jefiery's date here. 177
m Greek after Jeffery 1962: 129. The bracketed letters represent a certain reconstruction since the comer that originally preserved them was not broken off until after the discovery of the stele fragment.
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107 continuous boustrophedon loop, they have been unconventionally split 1nto two lines. 179 The faint traces of a no longer extant relief to the right of the letters offer a tantalizing solution.ulO Presumably, the two figures Enialos and Kcramo would have been featured in the reHefin pro me to the left, possibly seated, with Enialos behind Keramo. nn I follow Jeffery who concludes that the separate retrograde lines were carved in particular spatial proximity to Enialos and Keramo~ in order that the names of the deceased would abut the fi.gures they label or "modify." 182 The arrangement of the writing on this stele was influenced and ultimately determined by aesthetic considerations. 183 Owing to a concern for the visual effect of the written words on the viewer, a more traditional technique was abandoned. Thus the writing on this monument is a fundamental part of the visual schema, lending meaning to the artifact aesthetically as well as semantic:,tlly in the ma1mer of contemporary Attic vase-painters such as the Nessos Painter. The Nessos Painter is the first recognizable personality ofthe Attic black-figure technique, working in its earliest period, c. 630-600, and incorporating many 179
LSAG2 44-45,71.
°Conze 1890 i: 21 argues that the abraded area to the right of the leiters contains evidence tor a relief. Immerwahr 1990: 23 confirms from autopsy that this area is raised and presumably n~atured a relief. 18
181
Jeffery 1962: 129.
182
The stele ofDenuys and Kittylos found in Tanagra, Boeotia may offer a comparable arrangement to the one suggested here, at least in the spatial relationship of the names to the figures (JG vii, 579; LSA(i 92. no. 8; Richter 1961: 13, no. 9, 155-56, figs. 31-33, 192-195; .Athens, NM 56). In the Boeotian example, the name of each tigurc has been carved next to it in the labeling style, directly para) leling the technique so common on pots. tsJ See Herbert 1984: 143-144 tor a brief but similar analysis of a late archak dedicatory inscription on a Pentelic marble column, ''the regularly shaped letter forms, the use of the channels as thunes f()r the dedication, and the primitive attempt at a balanced placement of the lines all \.combine to achieve a pleasing and memorable visual cftect." He goes on to illustrate the aesthetic nature ofthree latt.l 5'1'~ and 41h·Ct)ntury graffiti on stone.
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Corinthianizing elements into his painting. 184 The vase under consideration hero is his
108
name-vase, a large neck amphora which, like the Keramo stele. served as a funerary mom.:unent (fig. 23). 185 The body of the vase features Medusa and her Gorgon sisters, but the scene on its neck, the struggle between Heracles and Nessos, is more interesting for my purposes since both figures have black, painted name~ labels, hep(u:Aer:; und
Ne-r
Figure 23. Attic amphora, c. 630-600. Athens, NM 1002.
These names function not only as linguistic signifiers, but also as visual complements. In general compositional terms, the names frame the central figural scene,
184
Beazley 1986: 13-16 following the Attic spelling of the centaur's name on the amphora, calls him the Nettos Painter, while Boardman 1974: 14~15 and Immcrwahr 1990:20 use his more common Greek name, the Nessos Paintt1r. 1 follow the latter two in my discussion. 15
x LSAG" 76, no. 6a, pl. 1; lrmnerwahr 1990:20, no. 55; Beazley 1986: 13-16, pl. 10(2-4); Boardmau 1974: 14-16, fig. 5(1); Athens, NM 1002. Image fmmBcazley.
186
Greek after lmmerwahr 1990: 20.
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109
but they also draw attention to the tension hctwecm hero and (ientaur. As .1. D. B<mzlcy notes, the contlict between the two characters is heightened by the juxtaposition of opposites: moustache and beard, tight lip and open mouth, contrasting nose shapes. 187 The direction in which the names are written reinforces the contrast: Heracles' reads right~to-left
and Nessos'
lefHo~right
Herakles; rear c~Ibow, holding the spear poised for
piercing, is ernphatically highlighted by the combination of his name-label and the corresponding dotted zig-zag pattem below. Nessos' label, too, interacts \Vith the filling ornament, rounding out the curve of his chest as he attempts to keep it averted H·om his enemy's deadly weapon. l"'urtl1ennore, the names do not simply occupy what would otherwise be empty space. Rather, they integrate with the "Protocorinthian" tilling omament in the picture, functioning aesthetical1y, beyond the semantic level, and as the graphic equivalent to the other abstract decoration in the scene. The shapes of the letters themselves, especially the
kappa, lambda, and sigmas, resemble the hatching and zig-zags such that the painted inscriptions blend into the scene unobtmsively. These labels function on two levels, both conveying the identity of the figures in the scene to the literate viewer, as well as contributing to the visual composition of the scene and dramatizing the action within it, meaningful even for an illiterate viewer. The Nessos Painter's output proves to be the exception rather than the rule for Attic inscriptions on vases from the Corinthianizing Period at the end of the i
11
century.
Not until the next generation do Attic vases begin to feature writing with any degree of regularity, although one oftbc earliest vases to mark this next phase does so quite
187
Beazley 1986: 13.
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ll 0
ernphatically. The Fmm;ois Vase, named afler its Italian excavator, dates to c. 570 and signals a new phase of Attic writing. det1ncd by the usc ofthe dotted theta (fig. 24). 188 It features a staggering 129 inscriptions) two of which rcvcul its manufilcturers, the potter, Ergotimos and the painter, Kleitias. The m~iority ofthc inscriptions arc painted, but a handful of graffiti are preserved as well.
Figure 24. Attic kntter, {~. 570.
Flonm~:4l4209.
183
LSAG1 65, 71··72, no. 16; lmmerwahr 1990: 24-25, no. 18, pl. 4, figs. 18-l 9; Beazley 1986: 24-34, pis. 23-29(4); Boardman 1974: 33-34, t1g. 46; Hoppin 1924: 150-155; Florence 4209. Images fwm Beazley.
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111 The volute··krater stands just over twenty-six inches tall and has five separate bands offigu.rcd
friezt..~s,
with a sixth band of rays around its foot Starting from the
topmost zone of the vase, we have a representation ofthe Calydonian Boar Hunt, under which is a representation ofthc chariot-race from Patroclus' funeral games. The third zone, which runs contiguously around the volute-krater and so occupies both sides A and B, is the focal point of the vase and contains the wedding ofPeleus and Thetis. Under this is a version of the ambush ofTroilos by Achilles, which, in turn, lies atop an uninscribed
frieze of highly stylized flora amidst orientalizing sphinxes and griffins that also wraps around the whole vase. Beginning at the top of side B, the viewer sees the victory dance, the geranos, of Theseus and his compzmions celebrating the rescue of Athenian youth from the Minotaur. A Centauromachy fills the second zone, running over the wedding of Peleus and Thetis in the third, and the Return ofHephacstus to Olympus in the fourth. Finally, Artemis, in her capacity as potnia therOn, along with Ajax bearing away Achilles' dead body, decorate both handles, while the Battle of Pygmies and Cranes unfolds around the foot of the krater. Because the epigraphy on this vase is too vast to allow a complete analysis here, I call attention instead to the overall uses of writing throughout the vase. The painted inscriptions, mostly name-labels, exist even in cases when the figures would otherwise be readily identifiable. Zeus, for example, in the procession to Pcleus' house (zone 3), gets a label despite the fact that he holds the te11tale thunderbolt. Likewise, Kleitias munes inanimate objects which hardly require labels, like hvt!pta, identifying the cast down water-jar in the Troilos scene (zone 4), or the }3oJ.~t[O~] which is etched onto the
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1' . . front ~ . t11c we d·u.mg .. reprcsentat10n o f' tl1c a1tar m o1'J''"e Icus m scene. liN ']'L .1\US K'l o1tms
112
has added words where they arc unnecessary semantically, reinforcing the hypothesis that they are present, at least in part, for aesthetic cffcct. 190 The inscriptions do, after all, assist in organizing and defining the space occupied by each individual figure. They provide a tool by which Kleitias was able to create
structure and clarity despite the vast number of figures represented, just over 200. The writing here serves to de.fine and mark out each individual within each scene as well as intemally fram.e the scenes themselves, distinguishing them from one another. Futthermorc, the shape and placement of the words contribute to the action in the scene. The writing in the Calydonian Boar Hunt scene exemplifies these qualities (fig. 25). The boar occupies the center of the scene and its paired attackers, some with dogs, stand symmetrically divided to either side. The figures on the viewer's left advance frmn left to right toward the boar, while those to the viewer's right advance right-to-left. So too, the majority of the labels of the figures on the left side of the scene read left-to-right, and those on the right side are retrograde, the anangement on both sides paralleling the movement of the figures and leading the reader's eye toward the main point of tension in the center of the scene.
189
Greek after Immerwahr 1990: 24.
190
Although he does not further develop the idea, lmmerwahr 1990: 24 must be correct when he asserts, "in addition to their narrative function, the inscriptions have a clear decorative import."
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113
I~'igm·c
25. I>etail, Attic l
The eidography of the dipinti also accentuates the actions of individual figures. The labels of Peleus and Meleager parallel their approach as they thrust at the boar's snout. The names fill up the space between the men and their prey as they close in on the boar from the left, mirroring the motion of their spears, as if the names could penetrate the animal as well. Likewise, on the boar's right, Polydeuces' label, along with Castor's, reinforces the angle oftheir attack. The shape of the labels recalls the momentum of their am1s as they attack fi:om above. As this striking vessel attests, the composition of figural scenes affected the way the painter applied writing: he paid special attention to the visual effect of the words and their ability to contribute meaning visual.ly to the nalTative of which they were an integral pa1i.
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114 The dip inti on a roughJy contemporary c1ny aryballos reveal a similar
sensitivity to the decorative nature of the written word. This diminutive vcsse.l stands at less than eight centimeters tall and is the work of the potter and painter Nearchos~ c. 570-
555 (fig. 26). 191 Rather curiously~ the i1gura.l decoration on the aryballos is limited to the rim and handle, the smallest of fields, while the body is modestly covered in curving waves of black slip. Pygmies lighting cranes dominate the rim, while the ]eft side of the handle plate preserves a single Perseus figure, facing left, and the right side of the handle plate features a single Hermes figure, facing right On the rear panel of the handle is Nearchos' graffito potter's signature along with three squatting, ithyphallic satyrs. All of these scenes have painted inscriptions which arc particularly intriguing because they are a mixture of sense, mock, and nonsense. 192 The struggle between pygmies and cranes is punctuated by many nonsense inscriptions. Beginning on the end where Hermes stands, they read, p10, 8[ --], auarr, Kpo, KaA, xorr, apurr, popu,
8ev, aKt, ?e, Bot, paurr, 7W, and finally, nearest the figure of
Perseus, oat. 193 Although R. Hampe has suggested that these are meant to imitate, i.e., mock, the cries ofthe cranes, and maybe even of the pygmies as they battle, 194 H. R. Immerwahr counters that Hampe's parallels are nonsense rather than mock inscriptions and these are not mock inscriptions, nor are they meant to be name-labels since the number of labels would not cmTespond to the nw11ber of figures. He concludes that the 191
lmmerwahr 1990: 27, no. 97, pis. 5-6, figs. 22-25; Beazley 1986: 38, pl. 32(5-6); Boardman 1974: 35,
fig. 50; Richter 1932; New York 26.49. Image fmm Immerwahr. 192
Immerwahr 1990: 45.
193
Greek here and fbllowing after Immerwahr 1990: 27.
t_I ampe 19. ..,5 ?~ _, ··'"(:·1. ?C'S ~:~ , no.--.
194 r
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115 letters here compriS(;) meaningless words, despite the fact that they were painted by a • ] Iterate
•
pamter.
19:5
Figure 26. Attic a:ryballos, c. 570-555. New York 26.49.
The Hermes and Perseus figures also stand among nonsense words, the former accompanied by hepJk€<; ho(Jt
Tel,
the latter by llepO"eleu.; heu!O"f.Tt. These dipinti seem
to contain both sense name-labels as well as nonsense word-fragments. Despite the fact that the snippets of words here and amongst the figures of pygmies and cranes are semantically meaningless, Ncarchos was compelled to put letters between the figures, or between their legs, an extremely common place for words to appear, because doing so satisfied some sort of visual expectation. On the other hand, the dip inti that occur in the scene of the satyrs mostly make sense (e.g., :x,a..tpet greets the reader), and playfu11y amplify the auto-erotic behavior of 195
Inunerwahr 1990: 27.
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116
the satyrs. The three are labeled 'Teprr~:;·ueAoc;, "shaft~ph.~asurcr," Llot/,lwt;, from
(J€q)(::·u6at, "to masturbate," and WoAa~, from l/;foA7;, an erect penis ready fbr intercourse. 196 The physical anangement of the "speaking names" parallels their linguistic contribution. The three names taken together create a frame fbr the central satyr, mirroring his splay-legged stance. Likevv·ise, the vertical placement of the names of the .flanking figures cidographically calls attention to and emphasizes their behavior, an
effect with which we arc now familiar. Finally, the meaningless inscriptions haat, Aet, and {3p€, make sense here, since they flmction as a sort of replacement f()r the filling ornament which has by now become increasingly rare. The presence of words that are unnecessary semantically reinforces the thesis that they contribute to the scene sematographically, on a purely visual level. A group of ovoid neck amphorae, the TytThenian amphorae, so-called after their Etrurian destinations for export, constitute the largest groLtp of vessels produced from c. 565-530. These vases are notable for their propensity to contain mostly nonsensical dip inti. A comparison of sense and nonsense inscriptions from the Tyrrhenian amphorae reveals that despite the differences in semantic values, the writing in both contexts remains visually meaningfuL An amphora from the early group (fig. 27), the name-vase of the Timiades Painter, preserves Heracles battling Andromache in the center, f1anked to the viewer's left by Timiades slain by Pantariste, and to the right, Telamon advancing on Ainipe (side A). A kornos of men and youths appears on side B, and both scenes run atop registers of
196
Henderson 1991: 110, no. 4; 122, no. 54; Lissrmague 1990(b): 57, 71; Dover 1989: 103, n. 85.
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continuous spltinx and animal friezcs. 197 Since the heroic con.flict bears the painted
117
inscriptions, I f()cus on this scene and the way the names join in the panel's struggle, ihr. as Henderson asserts, "their referential function .. .is nowhere~ near so telling as their
. 1·t'orce, t11e1r . Insistence . . . . conceptua l vaIue mr " t11e d·.e::ngn. · ''· 198 spatia on cogmttve,
Figure 27. Attic amphora, c. 565-545. Boston, MFA 98.916.
Timiades'name, farthest to the viewer's left (not v.isiblc here), slopes behind him along the edge of his shield, between it and his body, as if shield, name, and body have
197
Immerwahr 1990: 41.no. 174, pl. 10, fi.g. 42; Boardman 1974:36-37, tig. 56; Bothmer 1944: A3; Boston, MFA 98.916. See also Henderson 1994: 98-112 for a discussion ofthis vase and its images as a
"mixed-media text.'' Image fmm Henders<>n. 193
Henderson 1994: 107.
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118
aU been thrown down by Pantaristc as she goes in for the kill
Il~rac.leH'
label winds
its way down the space between his legs as a mirror image ofPant.;;u·iste,s, a pillar of
suppo1t, a sign of mastery that resonates with Pantariste's imminent victory as well. 'I'he cidography of Andromache's name also encapsulates her role in the dnuna: it separates her from Heracles, but ineffectively since it cannot create enough distance to keep him from crushing her calf with his leg and firmly grasping her arm. Her label's curvature recalls the shape of her shield, reinforcing its ineffectual positioning on the wrong side of her body, swung away from her in her vain attempt to escape. Finally, Telamon stands strong as his name drops down in front of him, acting as a sort of body-
guard, paralleling the solid advance of his leading leg. The only name to read left-toright, it shifls the reader's perspective toward Ainipe. Her label (not visible), like
Andromache's, interacts with her shield, and although her name and shield are parallel~ both functioning as defense against Telamon, Ainipe's fate is predetermined as his spear pierces her name and thus, symbolically, her. The names function on a more general level as well, iconographically linking this scene with the other subject matter on the vase. As Henderson notes, the curve of Andromache's label reflects the curve of the sphinx's rear end in the frieze below, linking both figures in their common status as foreign, or "other." 199 Likewise, the shapes created by these names and their contribution to the movement of the scene's figures resound in
both the curved, raised legs of the dancers on the other side of the vase, and the interwoven lotus and palmette pattern on the neck. Thus the names situate the central
199
Henderson 1994: 107.
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119
nan·ative scene as the f()cal point of the arnphora, but also visually unify disparate elements ofthc rest of its decoration. Another Tyn·henian amphora, attributed to the Kyllcnios Painter, also tl-om the early group, preserves scenes of five athletes working with a trainer (side A) and seven warriors fighting (side B) (fig. 28).:wo The dipinti are painted in the style ofnmne-labels, but only one makes sense. The depktion of the athletes exercising shows, from left to right, a pair of wrestlers facing off, (J'Ixeocr on the lefl, and hrrr<7r>ol7'r£V€(t;) on the dght. 201 Next, the javelin thrower, OU€p7rO(J', stands alone facing right and observes the jumper, ql-:urroKcruuxu. along with the trainer~ outTetro€. Both the label and the activity of the final figure in the group defy a secure reading, although H. R. Immerwahr identifies the letters, [-]. [----]P.IF and suggests that he may be a discus-thrower. 202
}figure 28. Attic amphora, c.
565~545.
Loudon, llM B48.
200
Immerwahr 1990:42, no. 181, pl. ll, fig. 43; Bothmcr 1944: C4; London, BM B4!t Image H·om lnunerwahr. 101
Greek after Immerwahr 1990: 42.
202
lmmerwahr 1990: 42.
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l20
Like the rncaningfullahels on the amphora by the Timiadcs Painter, tho ones here signifY the behavior of the figures to whom they apply. The name of the wrestler farthest to the viewer's lett, for example~ parallels his front leg, emphasizing and solidifying his defense against his opponent. The name of the second .figure separates him from the third figure, the javelin-thrower, marking them out as engaged in different activities despite the fact that their feet overlap on the ground line. The javelin thrower's dipinto highlights his activity by paralleling the long, vertical line of his javelin and also isolates him from the next intt.~ractive pair, the jumper and trainer. These two appear to be working together; the arrangement of their names reintbrces this hypothesis since together they create an outline of the jumper's aerial form and bridge the space between the two ligures. Thus the eidography ofthe inscriptions assists in visually articulating the relationships in the scene and their lack oflexigraphic value does not detract from it. The next major phase in black-figure epigraphy dates to 550-530, when the manufacturers of Little Master cups were active as well as such black-figure masters as the potter and painter, Exekias. While this period witnesses the development of a generally more refined presentation of dipinti, e.g., Little Master lip cups or Exekias' amphorae, these painters also continue to integrate dipinti on their vases in the manner of
their predecessors, e.g., the Little Master many-figured band cups, some of which feature nonsense inscriptions. Hennogenes was a prodigious producer of Little Master cups, about thirty of which survive today. 203 Roughly half of his cups bear some simple tigural decoration in
203
See Immerwahr 1990: 51 for the breakdown of types of cups made by Hermogencs ami corresponding bibliographic references.
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121
the lip zone and his signature in the handle zone; the rest arc ornamented with his signature alone. I call attention to one of the first category here, a cup from Gcla with a hen on the lip and the potter's signature, hepf.LO')'€Ver; €7iOI€0"€JI, centered beneath the hen on the handle zone (both sides A and B) (fig. 29). 204 Just inside both handles, this zone also features stylized palmettes which lend further structure to the decorative schema.
Figure 29. Attic cup, c. 550-530. Boston, MFA 95.17.
The writing on this object participates in creating the overall, symmetrical organization of the vase because it parallels the black line dividing lip and handle zone and prevents an imbalance of color, infusing the light baud with dark slip. In more general tenns, the writing stands out as the primary decoration. The hen and palmettes hardly attract the attention that the centered, neat, horizontal line of writing does, and in
Greek after Beaz1t~Y 1932: 170; Boardman 1974: 59, fig. 113; Hoppi.u 1924: 119. Boston, MFA 95.17. See also Beazley 1932 for general discussion, especially, 169-170. Image from Boardman.
204
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122 this context and others like it, writ.ing itself has come to be an option for the principal mode of adoming a vase.-'05· A more familiar style of artfully integrated dip inti comes from a mauy~flgured Little Master band cup with representations of the Calydonian Boar Hunt (side A; top image) and Theseus and the Minotaur (side B) (fig. 30). 206 Both potters Archikles and
Glaukytes apparently collaborated to make the piece, as two potter's signatures, one under each handle, attest:
ApxtKAec;
I e1WlEUEli and r"AaUK!.IT€>; lp,€1!0l€rJ'Ell,
respectively? 07 Even more remarkable, however; is the number of t:i.gures and inscriptions in each scene, a testament to the tine miniaturist work which the earlier Corinthian workshops still inspired. The Calydonian Boar Hunt scene has twenty-one dipinti and only eighteen figures. The two xatp€ inscriptions and one nonsense inscription on the right account for the discrepancy. 208 As in the same scene on the Franvois Vase, armed men accompanied by their dogs hunt and attack the boar, centered between the advancing hunters. Also like
the representation on the Fran9ois Vase, the eidography of the inscriptions accentuates the movement of the figures and contributes to the tension in the narrative as the hunters converge on the boar.
205
Beazley 1932: 194 articulates this phenomenon. "in the little-master cup, and especially in the lip-cup, they [inscriptions] are an integral part of the total design," and hypothesizes the perspective of a Little Master painter, "I [the painter] may dispense with pictures, and let my sole decoration be a line of writing on the handle~zonc, perhaps with a palmette at each end." 206
Jmmenvahr 1990:49, no. Beazley 1986: 51, pL 47; Boardmanl974: 60, t1g. 116; Hoppin 1924: 55, 60-61; Munich 2243. Sec also, Beazley 1932: 187 and Lissarrague 1985: 78-80, fig. 4. Image tl'om Beazley 1986. 207
Greek after lmmerwahr 1990: 49.
208
Immerwahr 1990: 49.
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123
Figure 30. Attic cup, c. 550-530. Munich 2243.
The struggle between Theseus and the Minotaur has thirty-six (or thirty-seven) inscriptions for nineteen figures.
209
In this case, the discrepancy can be explained by the
fact that the majority of the inscriptions are meaningless name-labels and have been added to take up space, rather than modify any figures directly. The main point of drama, Theseus overcoming the Minotaur, occupies the central position in the frieze. These two are further emphasized by the shape of the inscriptions, framed on either side by the labels identifying Athena and Ariadne, and their participation in this part of the scene. Whereas the dipinti stand as regular, vertical dividers between the Athenian youths
209
1mmcrwahr 1990; 49.
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l24 accompanied by Athena and Ariadne who observe the strugglc,wl the writing becomes chaotic in the center, angling between
tht.~
figures as we may imagine the
weapons would have. Theseus' label ensures a successful advance toward the Minotaur as it braces his legs in their antagonistic stance. The Minotaur's label is indicative of his fate as well: it is split in half: part under his crumbling legs, the other pwi abutting Theseus, and the right angle his name creates mirrors that of his arms as he grabs Theseus in vain. The fracture in his name echoes his own weakness. The winner in this contest is :mnounced by the presentation of the names of the participants. Exekias, often hailed as the master of Attic black-figure potters, is also responsible for some of the most impressive 6th -century dipinti, both visually pleasing and purposefully arranged to afford his compositions depth of meaning. One pot that exemplifies these qualities is a neck amphora with representations of Dionysus and his son, Oinopion (side B; fig. 31) and a duel between Achilles and Penthesilea (side A; flg. 32). 211 The writing, a mixture oflabels, the potter's signature, and a kalos inscription, integrates into the scenes in a novel way. Side B presents two flgures and three dipinti. Beginning on the viewer's lefT, a nude male youth faces right holding a jug, labeled Otvomov in a neat horizontal line in
210
Although the painter probably intended to represent all fourteen young men and women in accordance with the number attested in the literary tradition, he ran out of room and, although able to put seven youth on the left side of the ctmtral ccmt1ict, could only put six on the right side. The space where others may have been is taken up instead by figures such as Athena and the lyre she holds in preparation for Theseus' victory dance (Beazley 1986: 51). 211
Immerwahr 1990: 33, no. 133; Beazley 1986: 59-60, pl. 62(2), 63(4): Boardman 1974:57, llg. 98; Hoppiu 1924: 94-95; London, BM B 210. Beazley 1986: 59 thinks it likely that Exekias was the painter as well as the potter of this a mphora, as do L Images trmn Beazley.
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the field above his h~ad (not visible).;m .He stands in front of Dionysus, identified by
125
a retrograde label angling between the two figures, Atovvuoc;, and offers to fill the kantlwros his father holds. Finally, Exekias' retrograde signature, ExueKla; €1TOU::·ue,
nms vertically to the leil: of both figures. The writing separates the figural scene from both the decoration on the shoulder
zone and the ornamental volutes that spread out frorn beneath the hnndles. The potter's
signature and Oinopion's name-label work together to create both an upper and left-hand frame for the figural scene. Furthermore, the placement of Dionysus' label creates intemal symmetry by spatially linking the two figures as they interact and bal:.mcing the stylized ivy that Dionysus holds in his left hand. His right hand, holding up the kantharos, balances the ivy sprig curving up behind him on the right, both cqual1y
evocative symbols of his divinity. I,ikewise, the two strands of ivy that hang down parallel the combination of Dionysus' name-label and another sprig of ivy on his left side. Exekias has managed to create symmetry in the decoration around Dionysus' figure with an ingenious balance of different iconographic elements that all belong to him: ivy, a vessel for drinking wine, and his name.
212
Greek here and fbllowing, after Irnmerwahr 1990: 33.
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126
Figure 31. Attic amphora (side H), c. 550~530. London, BM B 210.
The dipinti in the scene on the other side of the vase (fig. 32), the struggle between Achilles and Penthesilea, also play an inte!,:rral role in the visual narrative. 213 On one level, the writing functions lexigraphically, removing any ambiguity about the identity of the scene's figures because the two central inscriptions label both AchiUes and Penthesilea, Axt.A<.A>eu~ and
Hev8ecrtAea, respectively. The position of these two
inscriptions in relation to their subjects, however, is also meaningful. For example, the thrust of Achilles' spear, as it pierces Penthesilea's m:ck, knocking her down, Is
213
Sec Lissarrague 1985: 76-77, fig. 2 for a brief discussion of the visual effect of the names on side A. Some of what follows here is based on his interpretation.
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127 represented graphically as well; the angular placement ofPcnthcsilca's narne lengthens the plane of Achilles' blow, emphasizing its line <)fforce. So, too, the placement of Achilles' narne reinforces (the futility of) Penthesilca's self defense, as her spear underlines, quite literally, Achilles' name. Thus, the chiastic eidography ofthesl.! names, by paralleling the lines of the enemies' spears, supplements and dramatizes the point of conflict in the scene.
:Figure 32. Attic amphora (side A), c. 550-530. London, BM B 210.
The remaining two inscriptions run vertically to either side of Achilles and Penthesilea and also function on a lexigraphic level; the painted letters to the viewer's left reveal the maker of the vase again, ExueKia~ enoteue, and its visual comp1ement, to the viewer's right, formulaically proclaims that "Onetorides is handsome," Ove-roptCJe<;
KaAoc;. These phrases vertically frame the central image, marking the limit beyond which the ornamental volutes begin to spread under the handles. Thus graphically and aesthetically they are equivalent; the semantic value of the words becomes, at least on some level, inconsequential, explaining why Exekias signed this vase twice, once on each
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128
side. Although one of the signatures is semantically superfluous, both are nocc~ssary
for <.~reating a balanced, symmetrical presentation of the vase's figures. Another occurrence of the Onetorides kalos dipinto appears on the famous amphora, Vatican 344, showing Achilles and Ajax playing a game on side A (fig. 33),
and the return of Castor and Polydcuccs on side B (t1g. 34). 214 This vase also preserves two signatures by Exekias as well as Onetorirles kalos on both sides A and B. Tho pai.nting on side A shows Achilles and Ajax both anned with pairs of spears, facing one another over a board~game .involving dice. 215 A shield lies propped up behind each warrior and Achilles still wears his helmet, but Ajax has set his down behind hin1. On the left side, Exekias' signature reads left-to-right, leading the viewer toward the center of the scene by a holizontal motion (not visible here). Achilles, modified by his label in the genitive Ax;tA.eot:; speaks, calling out his roll of four, Terrapa, while
Ajax, also labeled with the genitive fom1 AtavTot;, claims a roll of three for himself, Tpta.
216
On the right edge of the scene Over:opt~eS K,aAo<; fills in the space between
Ajax's back and his shield, duplicating its placement in the Achilles and Penthesilea duel examined above.
214
Immerwahr 1990: 33, no. 136, pl. 7, fig. 29; Hansen 1983: 243, no. 437; Beazley 1986: 60-61, pl. 64-66:
Boardman 1974: 56-57, fig. 100; Hoppin 1924: 106-107; Vatican 344.lmages fromBeaziey. 215
As Beazley 1986: 60 observes, this scene is one that is only represented in the material record. Gantz 1993: 634-635 sugw:sts that th~1 moment may be right befbre Achilles' last battk\ with the two perhaps playing for Achillt.:s' armor aftcl' his death.
21
''
Greek after Jmmerwahr 1990: 33.
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129
}~igure
33. Attic amphora (side A), c. 550~530. Vatican 344.
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130 This scene is comprised largely oftriangular shapes: Achilles and Ajax fom1 the largest one over the top of which a contrasting) inverted triangle lies, fonned by their spears. Likewise, the shape of the cries of"fcn:u·H and ''three'' from the heroes' mouths 1nirrors the triangle created by the spears. The potter's signature and the kalos in.scription are both repeated e.lsewhere on the vase, the former on the rim, the latter on the reverse. Although semantically unnecessary, their placement here, along with Ajax's label, creates right angles in the scene, an eidographic contrast necessary for balancing the dominant forty-five degree angles, thus keeping the scene and its images visually interesting by avoiding a monotonous or predictable schema. Exekias also interspersed the image on side B with artfully arranged dipinti (fig.
34). In a scene of apparent homecoming, 217 Polydeuces (HoA.uO'euKes-), farthest to the viewer's left, bends over to play with a dog while Leda (AeO'a) standing in front of him, offers a flower to Castor,
KauTop. Castor holds onto his horse KuA.
father Tyndareus (TuvO'ap(e)o~) pets, while a young boy stands by catTying a stool on his head. Finally, the kalos inscription OveToptO'e<~> KaAo~ runs under the horse's belly, a space frequently occupied by inscriptions. The placement of the kalos inscription in close proximity to the horse's groin is noteworthy.:ll9 lfthe viewer is meant to make atl association between the apparent contrast of the spatial arrangement and the content of
217
See Bea:z.ley 1986: 61 for the debate about who is coming and who may be going. This distinction proves irrelevant for the present discussion and so I leave it untreated. 218
For this name used of Corinthian horses, see above, 98-IOO and n. 167.
219
It is possible that this placement is due to the crowding created by Castor's legs, although this visual ambiguity could have been avoided by placing the inscl'iption in front of Castor's t1gure.
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131 the inscription. the result could either reinforce the erotic nature of the inscription itself, or could be a joke, indicating that Onetoridcs was falling out of favor with his
erastes.
Figure 34. Attic amphora (side B), c. 550-530.
Vatic~m
344.
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132
Another of Exekias' neck amphorae offers an equally tantalizing placement of this same phrase, Ovt·Topt(}e~ Ka'Arx; on side B where two warriors lead their horses (fig. 35). 220 The name-labels identify the wan·iors as local, Attic heroes) the sons of Theseus,
AKaJJ,.at; and [Ae]lkoc/>ov. Their h.orses are
humorously undermines the praise inherent within it, further suggesting a change for the worse in the relationship between Onctorides and his erastes. Notably, this change is verbalized not by the words themselves, but rather by their spatial anangement. The decorative nature of early archaic inscriptions has evolved to such a degree that now, vase-painters such as Exekias readi1y exploit the double function of these words as both lexigraphy and sematography, affording a new depth of meaning for their compositions.
:Figure 35. Attic amphont, c. 550~530. Uerlin 1720.
220
lmmerwahr 1990:32, no. 132; Beazley 1986: 59, pl. 63(2); Hoppin 1924: 92-93; Berlinl720. Image ti·om Beazley.
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133
A white~grmmd mastoid-.~y·kyphos, attributed by D. Kuriz to the Attic Pislias Class "M," offers a fine example of Attic black~fi.gure scmatographic writing still in usc after the invention of the red-figure technique (fig. 36).221 Dating to c. 515, this cup stands just under five inches tall and features nearly identical scenes on both si.des: a poet dressed in a himation with his hair bound up in a sakkos sits in profile facing right and plays a kithara on a f<)lding stooL To either side of him, large lotus palmcttes extend into the scene from the handles and attached tendrils wind down around the handles to the buds below, tl·aming the citharode at his craft.
.Figure 36. Attic skyphos, c. 515. :EtvehJem 1979.122.
An arc of painted letters spills from the poet's mouth, a visual cue that a song accompanies his kithara playing. The letters stream. up and over his instrument, Elvel~em Museum of Art 2000: 54, no. 34; Moon 1979: 70, no. 123; Beazley 1956: 627; Elvehj<:rn 1979.122. Image trom Elvel~em Museum of Art catalogue.
221
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134 reduplicating the curvature of the palmettos and tendrils and extend dc>wn to the level of his knees, enveloping him in his own song. There is no break in the stream of evenly-· spaced letters and the viewer perceives a continuous song or story rather than individual words. Rather suqJtisingly, the letters that appear to .flow from the poet's mouth are hardly identifiable as such under close scrutiny, categorizing this as an imitation inscription. That .is, most of the
letter~forms
are so corrupted that they are hardly
identifiable as letters. Rather, the viewer knows that they represent or suggest letters because this is how painted letters regularly look That the illegibility of the dipinto does not prohibit the viewer from gleaning the artist's intended meaning conti.nns the sematographic capacity of nonsense inscriptions. Because artists playfully combine the lexigraphic and sematographic qualities of writing in sense inscriptions, when the Jexigraphic quality is removed, the referent remains, and the viewer is still able to interpret the scene. The early painters of red-figure vases also play with the visual qualities of painted inscriptions. An amphora found in Vulci and attributed to Euthymides, a member of the Pioneer group/
22
shows Hector anning while his father Priam stands by and his mother~
Hecabe, assists (side A). The inscriptions label the t1gures, running in vertical lines parallel to their bodies. The writing on side B is more dynamic (fig. 37). Three males dance in a komos and just as they move in revelry, so too, the dip inti here seem to dance across the amphora 's surface.
222
Immerwahr 1990: 65, no. 369; Beazley 1963: 26(1), 1620; Boardman 1988:33-35, fig. 33; Munich 2307. Image from Boardman.
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135
Figure 37. Attic kantharos, c. 530-500. Munich 2307.
The left-lmnd margin is marked by the vertically aligned phrase hoc; ou~enoTe Eul/Jpovto~, which places the scene within an agonistic fiamework.:m The rivalry created
between Euthymides and his earlier contemporary Euphronios is playful however, suggested by the light subject matter of the komos. The figure on the far left holds a kantharos and dances, one am1 and one leg lifted. His name, like his gaze and his gesture, projects forward, and he enacts the name-label he has been given, KoJ.~.apxo~, "revelry~ leader," as he leads his companions in the dance. The central figure of the kOmos, Eu{e}~eJ.~.or:;, is more subdued, but participates nonetheless. As the meaning of his name
suggests, he is well-minded civically, and indeed, his behavior conoborates this me::ming; he joins in the revelry but maintains c<.1ntrol, both feet on the ground. His stance, and by extension his behavior as a citizen, are articulated by the eidography of his name, which 223
Greek hen1 and following after Immerwahr 1990: 65.
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136 extends tovvard tho ground. It tnirrors his fbot and leg as it too turns toward the right, creating its own foot on which to rest.
The last dancer in the line, like the other two, has a "speaking name." Labeled 'I'eAe~, "Last One," he
brings up the rear in this line of merriment. In contrast to the
central figure. he lifts a leg and moves his anns, a contrast further highlighted by the
placement of the nonsense inscription eAeom, along his raised leg. As a word with no meaning, it appears here for purely aesthetic reasons, deemed necessary by Euthymides to accentuate the motion of this figure. Euthymides, like his black~ figure predecessors, plays with both the content and the visual appearance of words, employing them in a multiplicity of roles. The red-figure painter, Onesimos, paints cups in the last phase of the archaic period, 500-480, and continues in the tradition of the Pioneers, particularly Euphronios?24 One cup of particular interest shows horsemen and their horses, perhaps near a stable, indicated by the column behind the horse (fig. 38)?25 It preserves the potter's signature ofEuphronios, Eu[
The type of inscription here is standard, but the placement extraordinary, particularly that of the word AuKor;. Rather than occupy the same field as KaAo<;, the 224
See Boardman 1988: 133 for a discussion of the relationship of Onesimos to Euphronios.
225
hnmerwahr 1990: 85, no. 507; Boardman 1988: 133-35, fig. 228; Paris, Louvre G 105. Image fi'om Boardman. 226
Boardman 1988; 133; Greek after Immerwahr 1990: 85.
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137 amorphous background of the cup, it stands out in painted black on the capital ofthe column, firmly situated on a spatially defined material object. On the one hand, it is a
realistic representation of a stone graffito. The letters look as if they have been etched onto the capital's echinus. On the other hand~ a kalos inscdption was not suitable rnaterial for such a public inscription as part ofrnonumental architecture. Thus Onesimos plays
with audience expectations by placing writing in a context where it rnight readily appear, but the content of which would never appear in that context.
Figure 13. Attic cup, c. 500-480 •.Paris, Louvre G 105.
To read the dip inti on this cup is to suspend one's disbelief since they combine to create a fomlUlaic phrase whose constituent parts exist in disparate dimensions. That is,
Lykos is portrayed on a thrcc~dimensiona] object within the image on the cup, while its semantic complement, kalos, exists on the 11at surfiwc of another three-dimensional object, the cup itself. As such, these multivalent inscriptions Jl1ltill a role far beyond their
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138
semantic one, indicating the extent to which archaic artisans have c<:li1'1C to regard writing as a means for engaging their audience in visually··or.iented gamcs. 227
Plato Rep. 336d preserves an idiorn, AUKO~ i8c'i'v, meaning "to be struck dumb.'' It is tempting, although purely conjecttu-t!l, to imagine this idiom in effect here too, since the audience, in the act of looking at the image on the cup, is forced to AuKo.; iiJelv, and we are unwittingly struck dumb. 227
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139
VI. Conclusion The analyses in this chapter have shown a chronological and geographical evolution in the realization and manipulation of the visual effect of the written word on archaic G·reck objects. The 8th-century graffiti on objects such as the Dipylon Oinochoe (fig. 1) or the Cup of Nestor (fig. 2) show the inclination of early writers to integrate writing with extant abstract decoration, This first step lays the foundation for the next, the intentional manipulation of writing's ability to convey information and simultaneously decorate an object. As the dipinti on the early ill-century "Pyrros a1yballos" from Euboea (fig. 3), or the mid-7 111 century marine-themed Protoattic SAJ!phos (fig. 21 ), or even the Keramo stele (fig. 22) attest, artisans begin to decorate their objects with writing in their earliest incamations, before they were fired or carved, indicating that words were a viable option Jbr adoming an object. Corinthian productions (figs. 10-13) dominate the end of the 7th and beginning of the 6th centuries-the Attic Nessos Painter amphora is one notable exception (fig. 23)-and reveal a more advanced use of the visual qualities ofwritten words. Now, words not only function semantically and aesthetically, but also sematographically. The painters of these vases have begun to implement eidography, emphasizing action within a scene, tbr example, with the shape of the words, allowing those words to communicate beyond their lexigraphic capacity. The latter half of the 6th century witnesses the end of Corinthian dominance, marked by the very small number of Corinthian nonsense inscriptions (.figs. 18-20), meaningful aesthetically and sematographically, although not lcxigraphically. Meanwhile, Attic potters and painters adopt Corinthian methods of inscribing pots,
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140 especially in the yeurs afler the production of the f 1ranvois
Vase~
c:. 570 (figs.
24~25).
Nearchos' aryballos (fig. 26) takes Corinthian techniques to new levels by combining
sense and nonsense, bringing to the Attic corpus a playful mixture of writing as decorative, lexigraphic, sematographic, and eidographic. Painters and potters such as Exekias (figs. 31-35) continue to infuse their scenes with inscriptions, some duplicated on
the same vase and so semantically superfluous, using them to create balance and symmetry in their compositions. Finally, the way painters manipulate the writing on red-figure productions at the end of the archaic period (figs. 37, 38) reveals an acute awareness of and playful response to the epigraphic tradition they have inherited. The cup by Onesimos (fig. 38), for example, plays with the viewer's expectations, forcing the reader to acknowledge the multivalent and multipurpose nature of writing on an object. By this time archaic Greek artists regularly exploited writing for its ability to lend an object depth in meaning, confirming that words were necessary for far more than simply conveying infonnation. In the same way that archaic poets adapted the material expressivity of physical objects into their compositions, these craftsmen have appropriated the visual expressivity of words; whereas these words have been used to decorate objects, we turn now to the hellenistic technopaegnia, poems whose words are used to create objects.
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141 4. nTs'• ··1.:1·.-;'l l ~..~N!IC'1'W('' 3• L A N <.,.. t ·r·i\ ('''''(;" .111'4 1"'-.l'\.. '·. . .l'J. AI'~"" ·-'-" 1. '"
,..rr..~(''UN'')l'Air"("'N'I .
(l;
:11.. '
.••
.l . t!; .J'.
A ,•\.
I. Introduct:ion. Hellenistic technopacgnia, or pattern poems, arc poems that forrn the shape of a material object em the page, creating an image by varying the length of lines and, in some cases, also inverting the line order required to solve the riddles within. 1 Although the term "technopaegnia," "games of skil.l," does not appear until the late 5th century CE when the Latin poet Ausonius applied it to his own poems (Idyll. 12), this poetic form emerges in Greece in the early 3rd century. 2 Of interest to the scholiasts of the Anthologia Palatina (hereafter AP) and bucolic manuscripts, the poems have been largely neglected by modern scholars, regarded as little more than a kind of trivial word game for an intellectual, hellenistic elite. A corpus of six of these shaped poems survives: the Wings, Axe, and Egg by Sirnias of Rhodes (AP 15. 24, 22, 27), the Ps.-Theocritean Syrinx (AP 15. 21), and the Altars ofDosiadas and Besantinus (AP 15. 26, 25); 3 all are marked by intricate allusions and innovative metrical schemes and some by riddles as well, striking the reader as typically hellenistic in their adroit obscurity. This is not, however, a sufficient analysis of these poems; they are both part of the literary inventiveness typical ofhellenistic poetry and a corpus that illuminates the ever-evolving Greek relationship between writing and the visual arts, the central and binding theme of this investigation.
1
A more recent and well known example is George Herbert's Easter Wings (Herbmt 1633: 34-35). See Higgins 1987 for a cross-cultural survey of the tradition of pattern poetry as well as helpthl general bibliography. 2
Cf. Cameron 1995: 33-37 where he argues, unconvincingly 1 think, that the corpus should be dated to the Roman period; see below, 149-151. 3
I omit any detailed examination ofBcsantinus' Altar VIP 15. 25), because of its late date, assigned to the Hadrianic period, despite the fact that it is included among the technopaegnia preserved in the AP.
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142 In this chapter I present biographies of the authors and tho conj(;lCtured relationships between them (section H). Next, J place the corpus of poems within their generic context, illustrating their tnimetic relationship to inscribed archaic epigrams as well as other hellcnistic epigrams (section IU). This section also addresses whether the poems were composed to appear on the page as book poetry or were intended for inscription on physical objects like their archaic antecedents. By using comparative evidence, I establish the literary, textual, and therefore, visual nature of the technopaegnia, thus underscoring the significance of their striking visual appearance, which in turn affects the way they are read. Section IV examines each of the technopaegnia individually, providing a comprehensive commentary on the poems in order to elucidate semantic and metrical obscurities. This section includes a translation of and general commentary on each poem as well as discussions of dating, authorship, scholia, and manuscript transmission. 4 Finally, section V concludes the chapter with a general summary of the poems and an assessment of their contribution to understanding the interaction between word and image which they so overtly encapsulate.
4
Although a handful of such comprehensive commentaries do exist, such us those of Emst 1991 and Wojaczek 1969, they are not widely publisht~d. nor is there any such treatment in English to date.
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143
H. The Authors of the TcchnOJlat~gnia The authorship of tht; various tcchnopacgnia htiS been in doubt since their composition, but most scholars now accept that Simias of Rhodes wrote the Wings,
Axe~
and Egg,
someone we shall call "Ps.-Theocritus" the Syrinx, and Dosiadas the Altar. Simias, alternately called ''Simrnias,'' 5 was characterized as ''Rhodian, a grammatikos, author of books of Glrissai and other different poems'' by the Suda, but as A. S. F. Gow and D. L.
Page note, the entry goes on to describe Sernonides of Amorgos rather than Simias. 6 Hephacstion, a scholar from the second century CE interested in metrical studies, discussed Simias' innovations in meter and identifies him as the author ofthe Wings, Axe, and E:r;g? Hephaestion also reports that Simias used the choriambic hexam.eter before Philiscus of Corcyra. Because Athenaeus in tum reports that Philiscus took part in the procession of Ptolemy Philadelphus in the third decade of the third century (5 .198c ), we posit afloruit for Simias around 300-280, making him a contemporary of Alexandrian poets such as Callimachus. As the remains of his poetry attest, he was both a scholar and a poet, w1iting poems entitled
'A1roMwv, M,;]ve;, f'op')IW, four treatises on literary
8
language, "(AWO"Uat, and epigrams, seven of which are included in the AP. Despite its own claim to be by Theocritus (12), the .S~vrinx was not included in collections ofTheocritus' poetry until the mid-19th century. The poem was considered spurious because of its curious form and content, and received very little attention until T.
5
(
For discussion of tht~ variant spellings, Powdl 1925: 109.
'Gow and Page 1965: 511.
7
31.4-5, 8; 62.5; 68.12 (Consbruch 1971).
8
For the connections between Simius' 'f':)ii)(ruat and Philiscus, sec Maas I 927: 156.
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144 Bergk argued for its genuine status.
9
As he pointed out, there \:vas no real argument
against Theocritean authorship and the scholia and the manuscripts attributed the poem to Theocritus, corroborating the intcral ascri.ption ofthe poem itself R. Reitzcnstcin was also inclined to
acct~pt
the poem's claim ofTheocritean authot·ship, including it in his
study ofTheocritus' poetry. w A. S. F. Gow, however, rejects Thcocritcan authorship based on the poem's appcarance. 11 The "stepped" instrument the reader sees docs not resemble any representations of pan-pipes until the
1st
century when similarly shaped instruments
appear on Roman coins. The pan-pipes from the archaic through the early hcllenistic period are rectangular rather than gradated, as on the early 6th century Fran9ois Vase where Calliope plays on such an instrument. 12 Until an example resembling the shape of the poem emerges, Gow has stated, we cannot consider the poem to be by Thcocritus or even contemporary with him. Because this evidence has not yet come to light, I follow the majority of scholars who have generally agreed to attribute the poem toPsTheocritus. 13 The literary tradition preserves very little about Dosiadas, although there is a reference to him in Lucian that provides a terminus ante quem of about 150 CE (Lex. 25). There is also a Dosiadas who is known as the Cretan author of:Kpv]'TtKa, a Cretan 9
Bergk 1868: lxviii.
10
Reitzenstein 1893: 225.
11
Gow 1973: 554.
12
Florence 4209, fig. 24.
13
Although Ernst 1991: 82 seems to accept Theocritcan authorship while simultaneously acknowledging the discrepancy between the style of the poem and tlw style of the instmmcuts preserved in the material record.
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145 history. Reitzenstein cites the rarity of the name Dosiadas and the fact that there arc Cretan elements in the Altar pocmJ 14 (for example, the bronze guardian 1'alos [6··8]) as evidence for considering the historian and the poet the same man, although the conflation oftheir identities otTers no more inf~)rmation about the poet or date of the Altar poem. The only other infbtmation on Dosiadas is conjectural, based on internal evidence frorn his poem. The format, vocabulary, and particular references to Odysseus and Paris make clear some sort of relationship with the Ps.-Thcocritcan S):rinx, although because of the obscurity of that poem's author and date, the direction of influence remains impossible to assess. 15 Lycophron 's Alexandra, cornposed in the first quarter ofthe 2nd century, is also closely related to these two poems, as is attested by the use of obscure vocabulary found only in these three poems. Although Reitzenstein and U. v. Wilamowitz-Moellendorff suppose the Alexandra to be a model on which the other two poems rely, we can never securely know who was imitating whom. 16
14
Reitzenstein 1905: 1597.
15
Haeberlin 1887: 50 thought that Theocritus imitated Dosiadas, whereas Wilamowitz-MoelkndortT 1899: 57 propm;cd the opposite, although he did consider thmn contemporaries. Both claims remain unsubstantiated due to the bck of evidence. Hi
Reitzenstcin 1905: 1596; Wilamowitz~Mocllendortfl884: 12ft; 1899:57.
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146
IH. The Technopaegnia as .Epigrarns Because the technopaegni.a are short poems that suggest an epigraphical context, they can be defined as epigrams, a designation also attested by their inclusion among the
collection of epigrams in the AP. 17 As such, any discussion of the cultural and literary context of the hcllenistic tcchnopaegnla necessarily begins with one ofhellenistic epigram in generaL Only analyzed relatively recently as an impottc:mt mode ofhellenist1c poetry in its ov,.rn right, 18 the epigram embodies the hellenistic literary response to traditional archaic practices of inscribing objects, as K. l Gutzwiller has demonstrated. 19 Thus we may use what we know about hellenistic epigram as a model against whkb to compare the technopaegnia and in doing so, establish whether or not they were composed as book poetry to appear in their unique shapes on the page, or whether they were intended for inscription on physical objects. As S. Goldhill has noted, hellenistic literature in general has a distinctive way of looking at things, so much so that vision and gaze themselves become prominent themes of that literature. 20 Epigram is one hellenistic genre in particular for which this holds true, but this has as much to do with its archaic roots as the self-consciousness ofits hellenistic poets. As a literary form that in the archaic period appears in a three dimensional context (e.g., on a votive or dedicatory object, a grave stele, or a statue), the epigra..'ll's ability to 17
See, however, Gow and Page 1965: 5ll where they state that the technopaegnia attributed to Simias "are in no sense epigrams and ... they are not printed here." 18
Early studies of the Greek epigram remain use.t1ll, e.g., Rcitzeustein l S93, or the entire volume,
L 'Epigramme grecque (1968} of which one essay (l...udwig 1968) examine's hdlenistic epigrams. Whole studies 1~)cused specifkally on helleuistic epigrams, however, have betm rare until more recently, e.g., Gutzwiller 1998, Harder et al.2002. 19
Gutzwiller 1998: 1-14,47-53.
20
Goldhill 1994: 198.
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147
function successfully relics completely on its visibility. Thus at least sornc amount of care and attention were paid to the visual appearance of archaic epigrams because they are an integral part of the object with which they collaborate to express a message to their audience. The ancient reader of an archaic sepulchral epigramj for example, would stop at a stele or statue and read, often on its base, verses of praise and commemoration for the
deceased, frequently phrased as if the monument itselfwere speaking. 21 An excerpt ii·om the verses on a late archaic grave monument from Sinope exe1nplify this format:
To(Je
monument of the daughter ofNadys, the Carian. Passing by, stop and pity me." 22 The degree to which reading this epigram would have been a public or performative act remains open to debate, 23 but archaic epigrams like this do provide a context of reading that the authors ofhellenistic epigrams consciously mimic. In hellenistic epigrams, the "monument" still speaks, calling out to the "passerby," and praises the deceased, although now the monument is the epigram itself and the passerby is the lone reader perusing an epigram book, as in the poem that likely concluded a collection of Callimachus' epitaphs (AP 7.415):
Banta(Jew rrapa
J.. I I~ 9 \ ' ~ I )\\_I ";" ":\' 11 I .'i f ~Ep€1~ 1'COoat; EU f,kfV aOto'Y}V / EtoO'iOt;, EU 0 OllH{J Kat pta (J'lJ'Y')If./\.U(J'al, "YOU
(J''~f.ka
walk past
the monument ofBattiades, who knew song well and how to joke well and properly over
---------·····---21
Richter 1969; Clairmont 1970; Day 1989,2000.
22
Greek from Clairmont 1970: 33··37, no. I0.
23
Svenbro 1993: 44-63 argues forth(;' reading of archaic epigrams as a public pcr!brn'k'll:ive act, although Gutzwiller 1998: 3 interprets the moment of reading as more private and potentially even silent Nonetheless, the :m:haic cpigra.rn endures as the predecessor to the hellenistic epigram. in form and fhrmat.
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148 wine." 24 Like the archaic epitaph, this one also addresses the passerby, c.alls itself a
sema, and praises the deceased, but Callimachus asserts his poetic authority by subverting tradition and adding the sympotic clements of wine andjokcs. 25 Although the hcllenistic epigram adopts the same voice and physical referent as the archaic, the poetic eftect of this format has changed dramatically because the context in which the format appears has changed. Unlike the archaic reader or listener, the hellenistic reader must envision the s,~ma or other three dimensional object implied by the epigram in the mind's eye, rather than see it with the naked eye. Indeed, the authors ofhcllenistic epigrams played with this contextual shift a great deal, delighting in the paradox of suggesting the presence of an object that had long since separated from its accompanying poem. 26 Thus what in the archaic period is an inextricable combination of inscribed text and physical object, becomes in the hellenistic period a purely literary poem whose content refers to a physical object, but which is now absent from its three dimensional context and instead appears on the page. 27 We can understand the hellenistic technopaegnia as epigrams, but also as epigrams created by poets who are so self-conscious that they manipulate the genre of
24
Greek after Gow and Page 1965: 30.
25
For further discussion and interpretation, Gutz,willer 1998: 212-213.
2 ('
This absence is particularly pronounced in the case of ekphrastic epigrams where the epigram calls pronounced attention to the absent object by endeavoring to describe it in vivid detail (Gutzwiller 2002). Although some hellcnistic epigrams w'~rc still composed t{)r inscription on objects (Bing 2002), the early hellenistic period witnesses the elevation of the epigram to a literary genre, worthy of inclusion in poetry books and many hellcnistic poets were keen to experiment with the new genre, yielding large quantities of purely literary epigrams (Gutzwiller 1998: 3*6). 27
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149
hellcnistic epigram
itself~
Just as hellcnistic epigrams in general simultaneously
invoke and invert the traditions of their archaic predecessors, so t
both adopt and depart from hcllcnistic epigram as their model. The most subversive thing about them, l shall argue, is the very thing that distinguishes them, that is their
appearance on the page. Before analyzing the significance of their shape, however, we must first est;:1blish the context in which that shape appeared for the ancient reader. A. Cameron, following U. v. Wilamowitz-Moellcndorff and others, argues that Simias' Wings, Axe, and E)Jg were composed to inscribe actual physical objects, 28 while the .~yrinx and Altar poems were meant to stand alone on the page, removed from their implied material context. Wings, Cameron argues, does not resernble a pair of wings, nor is there any internal evidence in the text of the poem to suggest that it means to describe Eros' wings. Thus he asserts that the poem must have been intended to inscribe a statue of Eros, "obviously the Eros in question was a special statue, with wings designed for inscription."29 R. Reitzenstein objected to this same conclusion made by Wilamowitz~ Moellendorff, countering with the observation that if Wings were to accompany an actual
°
statue, it would likely appear on its base rather than on the figure's wings. 3 Cameron,
Cameron 1995: 33~37; Wilamowitz-Moellendorff 1899, 1906: 243-50; Fr~inkel 1915: 57-59, 83; Gow 1966: 179, "versus ovo solido circumscribendi." Cameron develops this argument as a respons~! to Bing 1988: 15, who lists the tcchnopaegnia and acrostichs as evidence ofthc hcllcnistic "etllon:scencc of purely visual phenomena." Cameron's concern is that in so doing, Bing has erroneously imagined the audience of hellenistic poetry as comprised of (visually
28
29
Cameron 1995: 35.
30
Reitzenstein 1907.
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150 however, tlnds this objection "banal" and discards it despite the Htct that most inscriptions do appear on statue bases rather than on the statues them elves. Simias' Axe, although resembling the object i.t describes unlike the Wings poem, also must have been meant fbr iuscriJ.:>tion he argues, citing an inscribed archaic axehead from Calabria as a parallel. Furthermore, the E:f!;g does not resemble an egg to Cameron, who echoes P.
Legrand~s
description of the poem as. "une sorte de losange qui ne
ressemble <\ rien.',:11 The odd shape together with the rearrangement of the lines required to read the poem suggest to Cameron that this poem, too, was intended tbr placernent on an egg. Finally, Cameron concludes that Simias' poems were not pattern poems at all, and that we may wish to regard the figured poem as an invention not of the hellenistic '1'' period, but of the Roman:-
Cameron understands these poems as inscribed on objects because a) they do not resemble the shape indicated by their title (e.g., Wings, Egg), and b) they do resemble the shape indicated by their title (e.g., Axe). It is difficult to see how these conclusions might coexist. Furthennore, he cites internal evidence to reinforce his conclusions, such as the absence of references to Eros' wings in Wings and the emphasis on speed and meter in the Egg that "make it hard to beJieve that the poet kept (or expected readers to keep) the opening image of an egg in their mind."33 Thus because Simias does not overtly or frequently refer to the shape ofthe poems, Cameron thinks the poems can not have existed in those shapes, but instead must have been on objects of those shapes. He 1
Legrand 1967: ii, 223.
32
Cameron 1995:35-37.
33
Cameron 1995: 36.
·'
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151 neglects to consider, however, that if the poems stood on the page resembling t.hese objects, the image ofthe objects would have confronted the ancient reader: there would be no reason for the poet to mention their shape explicitly since it was constantly there. Moreover, the poe.rns do consciously refer to their appearance, but perhaps differently than Cameron expects. We recall, for example, the emphasis on gaze and vision throughout the corpus oftechnopacgnia made manifest by numerous references that intentionally call attention to the poems' physical appearance. The first words of Simias~
Wings, after all, command the audience, .AeDuue lUi, ''gaz.e upon me," and the audience of Dosiadas' Altar is tricked into looking at the same altar that proved the demise of Philoctetes when he was bitten by a venomous snake while looking at it. To accept the conclusion that some or all of the technopagenia were composed for inscription on objects, then, is to ignore the mamwr in which hellenistic poets responded to and consciously manipulated archaic modes of expression, particularly in the case of epigram. To cite an inscribed archaic axehead as a comparandum tor Simias' Axe, for example, is to fail to recognize the hellenistic tendency to make purely literary what had been a concrete combination of both the written word and the physical object itself in the archaic period. The technopaegnia, like hellenistic epigrams in general, are a literary development inspired by archaic .inscriptions. They too represent a shift from writing on an actual object of stone or pottery to representing that object by means ofthe text itself: To reconstruct these poems as inscribed on the objects they describe is to disregard both their place in the hellenistic literary tradition, as well as a great deal of their ingenuity. We conclude, then. that the entire corpus was meant t() be read on the page as book
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152 poetry, seen by the ancient reader in the shape of a physical object, but separated from that object We can understand the author of the technopaegnion, then, as both poet and visual artist. As noted above, hellenistic poets were generally interested in dramatizing moments of seeing. With the absence of the monument, the epigram itself became the space intended for viewing/ 4 and the poets of the technopaegnia take this one step further by creating an image truly worthy <-)fthe audience's gaze. Although these texts are twodimensional, by virtue of their format on the page as well as their content, they evoke the third dimension. Thus. for example, the ,S)winx, a poem about Pan, also fmms the shape of a pan-pipe by means of metrically diminishing lines. So too, the intricate metrical scheme of the Egg makes its shape, and we witness poets employ1ng different meters to visual, rather than aural or generic, ends. Hellenistic epigrams both invoke and subvert their archaic predecessors, revealing the tension that pervades all genres ofhellenistic poetry, namely that between tradition and originality examined by P. Bing:15 The rnanipulation of old themes in new ways takes various forms, one of which is to treat a traditional topic, but to highlight a nontraditional aspect ofthe topic. The tcchnopaegnia, too, reveal the discomfmi of belonging to a tradition but longing to assert one's independence from it. Simias' Axe, for example, highlights the role oflowly, unheroic Epeius in the fall of Troy, an unpopular character in a very popular story.
34
Cameron 1994: 205.
35
Bing 1988 passim.
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153 As epigrams that have reinvented themselv(~S by responding to and altering the standard hcllenistic epigrammatic form, these poems also assert their independence from their immediate tradition, hellenistk epigram. One major development ofhellenistic epigrams was, after all, the extraction of the poem from the object to which it belonged,
resulting in .fictional inscriptions whose very existence in the absence of a physical object suggested that object's physical presence. The authors of the technopaegnia, however~ take the interaction between poem and object one step further by visually reinstating the object into the epigram's context. Indeed, ifSirnias,
Ps.~Theocritus,
and Dosiadas had
created pattern poems without the intercession of the "plain" epigrammatic form, a fundamental level of meaning would have been removed from the ingenuity of these poems. Their authors playfully reintroduce the physical object that Callimachus and Poseidippus, for example, had so cleverly removed. 36
36
The response of the authors of the technopaegnia to both their archaic and hdlenistic traditions fits neatly with Zanker's suggestion that ''llellenistic poets and artists may have consciously (lr tmconsciously taken up cues in the imaging of their more immediate predecessors and developed their modes of viewing to a greater-· even an unprecedented ·degree" (forthcoming: 6).
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154
IV. The Content of the Poems A. :LIMIOT IITEPTI'E:L (AP 15. 24). After Gow 1966: 172. 37
ra:;
Aefxrrr€ If:€' TOV 1"€ {3aBu(rrJpvou alJCLI
aMudt<;
wr;ae I
(5)
~
1""1
f
I
lJ~~o
tl
~~
Xaou.; ()€, (10)
ou,., 7e KurrptiJo.; rraf;; wr
oe
The Wings of Simias
(5)
Gaze upon me, the ruler of deep-bosomed Earth, and the one who made the son of Aem on apart, 38 do not run in fear if, being such a size as I am, my bushy cheeks are laden with down. For I was bom then, when Necessity govemed and all things gave way to her baneful warnings 39 those that creep and all things, as many as creep through the air.
But the child of Chaos, (1 0)
and not at all of Cypris nor the swift-flying child of Ares am I called; for in no way did I govem by force, but by gentle-minded persuasion, and to me yielded the earth and the folds of the sea and the bronze sky; and from them, I took a primeval scepter and detem1ined divine laws for the gods.
37
For scholarly treatment ofthis poem, Hopkinson 1996: 44, 176-177 (text, app. crit., and cursory commentary); Ernst 1991: 58-63 (text and commentary); Wojaczck 1969: 67-74, 144 (text and commentary); Gow 1966: 172-173 (text, app. crit., and excerpts from Pala!ine and bucolic [G, K.] scholia); Wendel 1966: 341-343 (Palatine and bucolic [G, K] scholia); Paton 1960: 128-129 (text and translation); Edmonds 1938: 491-493 (text, app. crit., and translation); Powell 1925: 116 (text and app. crit.); Haeberlin 1887: 69,76-77,83-84 (text, app. crit., aud Palatine scholia). 38 I follow the suggestion of Hopkinson 1996: J77 ii1r t11e translation of a)J,votr; f.d;;aua;Jrra,. The literal translation. "doer elsewhere," does not accord with the context of the line, and in light of the Hesiodk reference, Hopkinson must be right to translate aJJ.u(Jt~ instead as "apart" or "aside." 39
Hopkinson 1996: 177 suggests that c/>pa(ialut be translated as "will" or ''purposes" although neither of these definitions is supported by LSJ.
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155
Simias has created the image of wings spread for night by construeting lines of choriambics (long, short, short, long), which end in a bacchius (short, long, long). Tbc first half of the wing span (1-6) features incrementally decreasing choriambic stichoi, beginning with a choriambic pentameter and bacchius, followed by a choriambic tetrameter and bacchius, succeeded by a choriambic trimeter and bacchius, etc., until line 6 consists only of a bacchius; the inverse of this pattern forms the second half ofthc pair of wings (7-12) as a lone bacchius (7) steadily increases, growing back into a choriambic pentameter with bacchius ( 12). The voice of the poem is Eros'. He speaks in the language standard for dedicatory epigram, personifying the object that is his primary identifying feature, a pair of wings. Imperatives in lines 1 and 2 direct the audience to engage visually with what is in front of them and not to tum away if what they see scares them. The rest of the poem contains Eros' self-identification, not as one would expect, as the son of Aphrodite and Ares, but rather as the offspring of Chaos (6-8) and ruler ofthe natural world (11) as well as the supernatural (12). Thus in typical hellenistic fashion, Simias has cont1ated the tradition.al representation ofhellenistic Eros as a mischievous infant (2) with non-traditional traits such as a little-known genealogy (6-8), uncommon physical description (2), and the
power ofboundless dominion (11-12). Just as he claims responsibility for the creation of the universe ( 1), Eros creates this new identity with a voice that emanates from the metonymic representation ofhis form.
The narrator's voice, which personifies the poem itself: addresses the audience with a command to gaze upon him.
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156
The initial imperative is a traditional formula for beginning an epigram, addressing the "passerby"', but here the verb AcDurn: emphasizes the visual nature ()fthc audience's interaction with the poem, betraying the author's a\varcness that the reader will see the shape of the poem on the page before the act of reading bas even begun, As vv•ith all the technopaegnia, the first clue to understanding the contents of the poem is given by its shape, and the first two words of this poem direct the audience to consider the relationship of the poem's appearance to its contents. The narrator de.fines himself as the regal ruler, TOV avawr', potentially leading the reader to interpret this initially as Zeus. The archaic literary tradition not only deems Zeus an avag (so Menelaus at Iliad 3.351, ZeD rlva), but in at least two other archaic accounts, Zeus appears closely associated with the broad-bosomed Earth, ra~
/3a8ua-Tepvou. In the first fragment of the (vpria, when a th.ousand tribes of men wander over the land, {3a8uuTepvou ai'rr}t; (1-2), the next lines describe Zeus eliminating great numbers ofthem by instigating wars amongst them (3-7). Pindar makes the relationship more explicit at Nemean 9 where, celebrating the victory ofChromios and his four-horse chariot, the poet describes Zeus cleaving the earth with an all-powerful thunderbolt in order to conceal Amphiaraos and his chariot within it, o ;y 'Afh4>uiP'n uxfufTev Kepaw{jJ
rrafh/3ff!- 1Zeut; Tav Ba8u0"1"epvov x86va, Kputf;ev ~· Ufh' i'rmot<; (24-25). The rest ofline 1, however, implicates someone other than Zeus as the object of the imperative. He is the one responsible for making the son of Acmon separate, a confusing reference clarified by the scholia, passages from Hesiod's .111eogony, and a Sapphic fragment. As the scholia record, the son of Acrnon is Uranus, a genealogy
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157 recorded here for the tlrst time,40 later adopted by Eustatiu.s, who attributes it to the archaic lyric poet, Aleman (61 PMG). As Hesi<>d records, tho second clement created was Gaia, eupuwrcpvos (Th. 117) inspiring Simias' {3alluO'Tepvoc;, who in turn generated Uranus to cover her, an allegory for the sexual union that produced numerous offspring including the Titans (126-1 37). Hcsiod also preserves the tradition that Eros was one of the earliest forces in the universe, coming into being after Chaos, Gaia, and Tartarus (120). Ftuthermore, Flesiod's Eros was an attendant at Aphrodite's birth (210), a notable departure from the later archaic and classical accounts that he was born from her (e.g., Simonides 575 PA1C,). Finally, Sappho reports that Eros was the ofispring of Gaia and Uranus ( 198 P LF), and thus we may understand his birth, being the product of the union that bound them, as an action of separating Uranus from Gaia, rendering him 'AKf.LOVt~(L)) e~pluravTa. Thus in this first complicated line of the poem, Simias has
recalled multiple archaic traditions and authors, and subverted the audience's expectation that Zeus was to be the object of the gaze, instead intending Eros.
2: WfJ~E TPEfJ'{)t; el TOffOt; O.)v ~affKta {3e/3pt6a .Aaxvq, ' 7€V€l(L
A negative imperative, WYJ~E
Tpeff"()c; begins the line, paralleling the identically placed command in line 1 and directing the audience not to tum away in fear, that is, break the gaze demanded by the former imperative AeDuu€. The speaker, now identified as Eros, persists in overseeing the audience's behavior with commands, a tone appropriate for an ava£, and .indeed for a figure Hesiod chtlracterizcs as having power over gods and men alike, rravTwv ~E 6fwv ' rravTwv
T
' I oap..vaTat '\\1 ' 'll , ' 'J a '1' ( 120~21 ). avopwrrwv cv (/"T'(Y)uflfffl voov Kat' e'TT'lc{)pova ,..,ouNYJV
' ' ll
40
Gantz 1993: 12 notes that the assertion that this line ofpatcmal descent first appears in Hcsiod is probably an error due to mmruscript corruption (fr. 389 MW).
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158 He preempts the fear he suspects his m1diencc rnight experience \Vhcn they see that although he is so small, -rouo') l/rv~ his checks are bearded, 1Jau1
'f"€V€1a. Simias maintains the illusion of and allusion to a physical representation of Eros
by the continued references to its appearance. Moreover, he conflates the traditional representation of Eros as a baby or young child
41
with an atypical characterization of the
divinity as old enough to be bearded, a conflation itself typical of the desire ofhcllcnistic poets to reca1l archaic or canonical traditions only to play upon them and create something unique. The combination of the two representations is so strange, Simias suggests, that it might frighten the audience. """ ' ' 1 ' I ,, ' 3: -raJLo<; e'}'W '}"ap 'f"eVOJtav a,ovtK' e1<parv ' A va,'}"Ka
This line explains the former,
fiJ
accounting for the appearance of an old, bearded and therefore ancient Eros. As Eros himself explains, he looks old because he is old, bom at the time when Necessity,
'Ava'}"l
rroMa Ka,i ~etva 6eo%
"I ~ "I £'}"t'}"lle-ro, w<; tl.erye-rat, ota -rrYJV 'MJS' 'Ava'}"WY)<; Bautfl.etav, although here Agathon '
I
'
I
'
'
,..,
I
I
41
Examples are manifbld, including Alcrnan 58 where Eros "plays like a H1tle child" from the archaic literary tradition and the hellenistic epigrams of AP 16 where Eros is repeatedly addressed as v-i;mf (e.g., 195-198), or thtl episode in Apollonius' Argonautica w·here Aphrodite catches the child cheating at a game of dice, his cheeks here noted for a sweet blush rather than Simias' hairy appearance (3 .121 -22). Lnter, Aphrodite promises him Zeus' ball with which to play and he reacts gleefully and childishly (146~50). The visual record preserves the same characteri?.ation of a youthful Eros, attested by the numerous hellenistic sculptures depicting him as a chubby, cheerful child. One well known t:xamp.le is a marble group fmm Delos featuring Aphrodite, Pan, and Eros, where a miniature winged Eros hovers over the shoulder of his mother and smiling, grabs one of Pan's homs (Athens NM). For more on hellcnistic eroticism audits representations, st~e Fowler 1989: 137-155.
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159 argues that Eros is young, not ol.d (.S)Nnp. 197b). Phaedrus' speech also betrays Plato's
tluniliarity >vvith Eros' antiquity when he cites liesiod,
Parrnt.~nidt)S,
and Acusilaus, who
compiled and collected Hesiod1c genealogies in the late archaic period, as sources fbr Eros' early role in the universe (178b).
The upper wing of Eros concludes with ({prret
Ot' ai'8par;, an action suggested by the shape created by the words
themselves, as he describes the conditions of living beings during Necessity's rule. AI. I creatures creeping and crawling on land, nav-ra ep1re'Ta as well as those in the air (including Eros?), i3't' ai'fJpa; yielded to her baneful warnings, c/Jpaoa'Wt Au')'pa'i';. We can surmise that the evils ofthe time when Necessity governed refer back to the noMa Kai ~£IVa
eeo'i'<; e')'f,,'Ve'TO mentioned by Plato's Agathon, and we recall Agathon's
assertion that Eros relieved those troubles by putting everything in order.
As discussed above, the first line of the poem alludes to a nontraditional genealogy for the Eros who narrates this poem. There he speaks of his effect on Uranus, son of Acmon, and here, he explicitly refutes the more common tale of his parentage. Invoking another reference to his external fonn, he tenus himself swift-flying, wKune-ra; and asserts that he is the son of Chaos, not Aphrodite and Ares. This rcca11s the Hcsiodic tradition that Eros came into being just after the first element, Chaos, followed by Gaia and Tartarus (Th. 116-123) ;:md contributes to thl.! confusion over Eros' lineage in the Il.esi.odic passage. Although Hcsiod does not state that Eros (and Gaia and Tartarus) came from Chaos, but simply after
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160 Chaos, this is a detail that later authors, Sirnias included, have misinterpreted or
intentionally altered. At any rate, the Eros of this poem reinforces his age by positing his origins at the beginning oftime when Chaos was created. As the next lines demonstrate~ his lengthy existence is necessaty tor the role he now plays.
1o~n: ou-n 7r"kp ~~Kpava {3{{1-, 1rpaiJv6cp ~€ 1Tet6ol, eTKe
()£ ll.Ot "}''(Lta 6a"A/urrrr.u; Te /.kl.IXOl :x,a,'AKeoc; ,
f
ovpavor:; T€
Now that Eros has
established his parentage, he describes bis role in establishing the order of things. In juxtaposition to Necessity (and Ares), he did not govern by force, OUTI -rap lb<pava
{3ft;t a
point reinforced by Simias' reuse of the verb of Necessity's rule in line 3, ~~Kparv'. Rather, he employed gent1e-minded persuasion, rrpauvocp
15€ 'IT€t8ot, a formula that
recalls the Orphic account of Necessity's dominion (Orph.lf. 69.13). By ruling in this way, Eros has subdued the universe in tripartite division. Just as the animals on land and in the air yielded, elK€ to Necessity long ago (4-6), the earth, sea, and bronze heavens (fl. 17.425)--and by association all the creatures living in those realms-yielded to Eros, r.;"
l\ I
elK€ O€
JLOI.
The chorus of Aristophanes' Birds contributes to this characterization also, describing the early existence of Chaos, Nyx, Erebus, and Tartarus, and eventually Eros, who mated with Chaos to produce the race of birds, TtKT€1 1TpWTtrrTov U1TrJVfJLtov
Nus rY;
96). According to this account, Eros combined all the ingredients of the world, creating
' "Epw;; ":Jl.IV€JJ.el~€V f; the heavens, ocean, and earth, as well as the eternal gods, rrptv I
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"'
' 1ra.1.rrwv Tc oewv lkat
{j
""
I
I
11
161
,J,tJ
Simias' poem.
The poem concludes with a last reference to the antiquity of Eros' rule. He asserts that he took the primeval scepter, c~.vyury10v fJ't
aorist (cf. 3, 1 0),
42
began to make rules of divine law, EI
insinuating that he still holds this position of power. The adjective W'}"Utywv recalls t\vo Orphic hynms, one to the Fates (59.1 0) and the other to Nomos (64.1 0), where c.o,.U'YlOV
appears both times associated closely with nomos.
rt: as seems likely, this passage
intentionally responds to the Oprhic ones, we note the juxtaposition between nomos there and themis here. The message is that this Eros rules even the society of the gods. Thus
Simias has created an atypical Eros whose wings the audience reads, an Eros bom of Chaos whose antiquity is attested by his bearded face and required for the dominion that he holds over the world.
42
Noted also by Hopkinson 1966: 177.
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162
B. l::IMIOT IIEAEKT:!: (AP 15. 22). Afler Gow 1966: 175.
43
(l) (3) (5)
(7) (9) (11) (12) (10) (8) (6) (4) (2)
(5)
(10)
The Axe of Simias Phocian Epeius gave a gift to the man-goddess Athena, honoring her strong counsel, an axe, the one with which he once destroyed the height of the god-built towers, then, at that time when he burned the holy city of the Dardanians with fire-breathing destruction and thrust out the golden-clothed rulers from their foundations; he had not been counted among the champions of the Achaeans, but rather as a lowly man who carried water from the pure springs, but now he embarks 43
For scholarly treatment of this poem, Ernst l ()91: 69··74 (text and commentary); Wojaczek 1969: 83--91, 146 (text and commentary); Gow 1966: 174-175 (text, app. crit., and excerpts from Palatine and bucolic [K] scholia); Wendel1966: 343-344 (Palatine and bucolic [K] scholin; Paton 1960: 126-127 (text and translation); Edmonds 1938; 488-489 (text, app. crit., and translation); Powel11925: 117 (text and app. crit.); Haeberlin 1887: 70, 76·77, 84 (text, app. crit, and Palatine scholia).
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163
upon a Horncri.c path, thanks to you, holy Pallas of many counsels. Thrice blessed is the man whom you, gracious in your heart, behold. Such blessedness breathes forever. Unlike the process required f6r reading the Wings, Simias has further complicated the audience's understanding of this poem by scrambling the order of the lines. When they are in the order required to make the shape of the axe-head, created by the metrical scheme, the lines are not in the order in which they rnust he read. Rather, the reader starts with the first line first, but then must skip down to the last line in order to make sense of the poem, pairing like with metrical like in order to establish the proper order for reading. The entire poem must be read in this fashion, jumping from upper to lower lines in succeeding order, the line length decreasing pair by pair as the reader proceeds. 44 Simi as employs the same metrical pattern as in the Wings, namely pairs of choriambics (long, short, short, long) with a bacchius (short, long, long) concluding the line. Also like the Wings, the poem's longest lines are choriambic pentameters with a bacchius (1-2), followed by chotiambic tetrameters with a bacchius (3-4), which are succeeded by choriambic trimeters with a bacchius (5-6), and the lines continue in this fashion until finally the two innem1ost lines of the poem consist only of a bacchius ( 1112). Thus Simias presents the viewer with the object described and dedicated in the poem by creating the image of the blade of a double axe, and creates the illusion that the poem has been inscribed on the object itself.
o
1-2: 'Av1Jpo8f.r;- 'lJwpov
Tcp
44
As the scholia to the Anthology and Bucolic manuscript K uote, the reader could also start at the innemmst lines, and reading the poem in the order of the metrically paired lines, eould also make sense of it That is, using the line order 1 have assigned the poem, one coul.d follow the order 11, 12, 9, 10, 7, 8, 5. 6, 3, 4, l, 2. Because the sense of the translation does not change with this reading, and in the interest of clarity, I discuss the poem only in the order presented above.
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164 The Hrst and 1ast lines of this dedicatory epigram combine to identify the dedicator, the object dedicated, and
th<~
divinity to whorn the object is being dedicated. The object in question is a gifl, 6Wpov
frorn Epeius ofPhocis,
o
goddess Athena, 'Av(;po8eq_ 'A8a,vr;t, because he honors her strong counsel, Ttvwv KpaTepflt; J.JlYJltouuvat;. In fact, it is the very axe with which he destroyed the heights of
Simi as has composed a dedicatory epigram that recalls the role of Epeius in the
destruction of Troy, a man fm11ccl for making the wooden horse that enabled the surprise attack by the Greeks within the walls of the Trojan citadel. 45 As Homer relates, Athena
assisted Epeius in this endeavor, TOll 'Erreto~ €rrohwev ut/v 'AB.frvn (Od. 493), accounting for the reason that Simias recreates the dedication of this axe to Athena, tenned "man-goddess" because she was never born from a woman and never had intercourse with a man.
€rrel Tav lepav K'YJPt rrupfrrvw rrol.tv 1J8a'Awr.rev D..ap(;avt(;av xpur.ro{3a
3-4: '!'a/ko<;
of Troy occupies the next two li.nes, filling out the reference to the god-built towers at line 2. In case the audience was unfamiliar with Epeius by name alone, Simi as describes the burning of Troy at the hands ofthe Achaeans who had been hidden inside Epeius' horse.
ln the previous four lines, Simias had established Epeius in a heroic light, using lofty epic language, rruplrrvcp, 45
Hom. Od. 8.492-95, 1 1.523~27; Lye. 930; Paus. 2.29.4; Apollod. Epit. 5.14.
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165
6e.p.eflAwv, an<.i a,vrLKTa<; to describe the victorious result of his craftsmanship ..Here, however, the poet reminds us that Epcius was no hero; in fact he does not seem to have fought in the Trojan War at alL Although a powerful boxer, who won that event at Patroc.lus' funeral games (ll. 23.664-71 ), he admits that he is not fit fbr battle, ij " , OTTt p.a.x,7)-;
oux rDdc;
~ (6>7().) am.i Homer never categonzes . Ium . as a warnor. . en:tot::vop.at; '
I
Simias refers to Epcius' lowly status, an account also preserved in the archaic poetry of Stesichorus, who describes him as a water-carrier for the sons of Atreus, Agamamnon and Menelaus (200 PMG). Athenaeus maintains that Simonides also characterized Epeius this way (1 0.456e-f}, and we may consider both accounts likely models tor Lycophron, where Epeius is a coward afraid of the spear, bom as a divine punishment to his parents (943-45), and Simias, who deems him a lowly water-carrier as
The vDv (J' contrasts the
,.atJ.o<; brei of line 3 and marks a temporal shift as well as a change in address, both of which signal the conclusion of the poem. Until now, the nan-ator has not explicitly addressed anyone. Instead he has described the circumstances under which Epeius and his axe were important to a general audience. He calls upon hallowed and wise Athena,
a'}'VIi rro'Au{3ovAe llaMa£' crediting her with the elevation ofEpeius fi·om his .lowly status as a water-cani.cr onto a Homeric path, 'Owf;petov KeAeu6ov. On one level, Simias implies that now that Epeius has been honored and recognized as instrumental in bringing about the destruction of Troy, the audience considers him heroic, part of a battle told in ep.ic poetry, and thus he has "embarked on a Homeric path."
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166
Simias' use of the word 1<e'Aeu8ov, however, is duplicitous, and we can not take his statement at face value. As Callimachus makes clear in the ;:fetia as epigrams. he detests the well-trodden path of epic imitation, ex6alpw j_
f
) ~
'l
(27~28)
as \Vcll
TO 7iOlrr}I.W.t 'TO
'6 I XU.tpW Tl<; 7iOtVI.OV<; 'l 'l \ '<' 'f' "J> _/,I . . . . WOf. KOA Woe l.f'f.P€1 (AP ] 2.43.1 ~2), a
I
f
\
~
I
sentiment which we appl.y to the mission of hellenistic poets generally. It is desirab]e to avoid the path of Homeric imitators whose epic poetry falls short of the standards set by Homer. Instead, hellcnistic poets advocate new approaches to the old material and indeed, Simias does exactly this by treating an epic topic, the destruction of Troy, from a unique perspective, the axe a cowardly water-carrier used to fell the wood to make the Trojan horse. Thus Simias Jnserts a certain amount of irony into the poem when he claims that it is a blessing from Athena that Epeius can now be considered in an epic context, since hellenistic epigram rejects rote epic imitation.
Simias finishes the poem with another direct address open to dual interpretation. On one level, he asserts that Epeius .is thrice blessed, '!'pte; tLaKap because of the role gracious Athena, 8utLiiJ
i'A.aor;,
who looks down upon him, atLt~epx/Nir; bas played in helping him accomplish the (now) heroic feat of building the Trojan Horse. On the other hand, because Simias pointedly uses the rare verb of seeing, a/.Lt~epx(jfj.; in the 2nd person singular as well as the emphatic personal pronoun al;, he may also intend an interpretation of the reader as the subject of the verb with the object o'v referring to the axe. the image that the reader views while reading the poem. It would be only fitting tor Simias to conclude his epigram that is in the shape of an axe and about an axe with a direct reference to the axe, using a
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167
verb that reinforces the level of poetic play th;,~t is literary as well as visual. He concludes that this kind ofblessedness lives and breaths f('>revcr,
ael ?i'V€tthat is, the
blessedness that Athena affords mortals when she looks upon them kindly, as well as the blessedness that Simias affords the topics of his poetry since they too will live on in the memory of his audience.
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1()8
C. klMIO! !)ION (AP l5. 27). After Gow 1966: 178.
46
(1) (3) (5) (7)
(9) (11) (13) (15) (17) (19)
(20) (18) (16) (14) (12)
(1 0) (8)
(6) (4) (2) To be read: KwT[Aa~
' fJ..aTEP,,Ot;
-Mj TO~•
(5)
Q,TptOV VEOV
Llwpfac;; 0/Y)~ovoc;· '.J,. "~~' () "'~'{;; ~· ' rrpot.ppCuv O£ UJL(fJ OE'::Jo or; 7ap
(
,.,
a7va,~
' For scholarly treatment of this poem, Emst 1991: 63-69 (text and commentary); Wojaczc~k 1969: 74-83, 145 (text and commentary); Gow I%6: 176-179 (text, app. nit., excerpts from Palatine scholia, and diagram of metrical scheme); Wendel 1966: 345-346 (Palat.ine scholia); Paton 1960: 134-135 (text and translation); Edmonds 1938: 494-499 (text, app. crit., translatiou, and diagram of metrical scheme); Powell 1925: 118-120 (text and app. crit.); Hacbcrlin 1887: 71-72, 77-79, 84-85 (text, app. crit., and Palatine scholia). 41
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169
(10)
( l5)
(20)
The Egg of Simias Lo there! This is the new warp of a twittering mother, a Dorian nightingale. Receive it in good spirit, for the shrill labor of a pure mother bore it. Hermes, loud-shouting herald of the gods, taking it from under the wings of its dear mother carried it to the tribes of mortals and ordered me increase the number from a meter of one foot onward to ten feet at the outem10st, keeping the order of the rhythms and bearing them quickly from up above, he made manifest the swift, slanting direction of <scattered> feet, striking, he traced out that ever~ rapid, variegated, lawful-sounding cry of the Pierians, exchanging limbs equally for swift, rapid fawns, offspring of light-footed deer and they, fi·om immortal desire of their beloved mother rushed forward speedily after the desired teat, all go with rushing feet over the highest peaks along the path oftheir communal nurse. And with a bleat they traverse the mountainpastures of the much-nourishing sheep and the caves of the slenderankled Nymphs. And some savage-hearted beast hearing their re·· echoing cry in the innermost hollows of his lairs, swiftly leaving his bedrock bed rushed violently forward, seeking to snatch a wandering offspring of the dappled mother and then swiftly following hard upon the sound of the cry, this beast
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170 straightaway hastened along the sh*1ggy hollow of
the snow~beatcn mountains. Indeed the firmed god urging them on the path to stir with swift feet equally, set loose intricate measures of song. This poem is remarkable for its shape and meter, the latter creating the fonncr as in the other technopaegnia. Like the process required for reading Simias· Axe, the audience must read the poem by matching metrical pairs rather than by following the order in which the lines appear on the page. That is, we start at the top of the egg, reading the first line first, and then read the last line next, and move successively up and down until we arrive at the middle, which paradoxically m::.u·ks the end of the poern. As we shall see, despite Simias' loose adherence to epigrammatic conventions, i.e., the address and imperative to the audience (2, 3), this poem strays rather far from the genre on which it is modeled. Perhaps to the detriment of the content, Simias has focused on creating an extraordinarily complex set of rhythms within which he weaves a metapoetic account of a nightingale's egg taken from its nest and set among mortals by Hermes (1-8). Simias continues to flaunt his metrical innovations as he shifts his focus to the racing footsteps of fawns (13ff.) who, wanting to feed off their mother, run around their mountain pastures (14-16) until a wild mountain beast pursues them, threatening their survival ( 1719). Creation, birth, and parenting are major themes in the poem and the audience interprets these themes as metaphors for Simias' creation of the poem itself It is his production just as the nightinga.le produced her egg, and he feeds it-by adding cola to his lines-just as the fawns desire their .mother's nurturing milk. Because the metrical
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171
games in the poon1 cornpris<:: its most notable feature, I treat them in detail below rather than presenting a summary her~.:.
1-4: Kw·riAa~ /kaTepo; I
,..;; To~' l£Tpwv vf.ov
Awpfa<; arr]~OVO~
As the reader contionts an
ovoid image, the poern directs an attention-getting interjection nt the audience, -Mj. Once the poem engages the reader, it emphatically describes itself, -r6~'' the new warp,
chptov
veov of its twirping mother, KltJ'T'il\a<; /kG/T'fPOc; a Dorian nightingale, Awpia; U/f)OOVO~. The shortest lines (1-2) scan as cretics (long, short, long), while lines 3 and 4 contain a trochee (long, short, long, sho1i) followed by a cretic, yielding a regular, even pattern of altemating long and short syllables. Although the word "egg," £$J6v is absent from the poem's text it is possible that the -roll of line 3 refers to that neuter noun, a reading suppmied by the use of the emphatic demonstrative 16~' rather than To, and which would place aTpwv veov in apposition to the absent noun. Indeed the name of the object need not be present because its shape faces the reader. Taken this way, the analogy between the Dorian nightingale and Simias the poet becom.es slightly more direct; just as the bird has produced an egg,
To'd', Simias has produced a poem, To~', and the audience has a visual referent for both on the page. Indeed, as a citizen of Rhodes, Simi as is a Dorian poet writing in the Doric dialect, and this makes the association between him and the nightingale explicit. Simias extends the metaphor further, however, by terming the egg/poem ''a nevv \\'arp," and invoking the imagery of weaving. He uses the word aTpiOV specifically, the series of threads that run lengthwise on a loom and provide a foundation over which the weft
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172 crosses horizontally to create a pattern or image. 47 Thus Simias suggests that the context or format of the poem provides the structure on which
tht~
weft, or lines ofthc
poem, can weave their image, in this case, an egg. This metapoetic introduction sets the tone for the rest of the poem, anticipating the poem's self-consciousness throughout. 5-6: 1rp6
The direct address to the
(singular) reader, 0'€-go marks a shift fi'om the introductory lines (1-4), and bids us receive favourably, npo
a€ 6utJ.iiJ this shrill labor, Ai7e1a wO't~ because its pure mother
wore herself out producing it, rl')!Vti~
Vlli
t
as these lines increase by one foot and invert the metrical scheme of those preceding it (34). What were trochees in the previous lines are now two iarnbic metra (short, long, short, long) followed by a bacchius (short, long, long), an arrangement that allows for a slowing down of line 5, emphasizing the gravity of the poet's request, and a subsequent quickening of the pace of line 6. Here, too, the analogy between the bird and Simias persists, highlighted by the transfe1Ted epithets for the nouns "mother" and "labor," the former "holy" or "pure" and the latter "shrill." We are more likely to consider the mother "shrill" because she is a bird and Simias describes her similarly in line 1, KWTfAar;. By applying the adjectives to nouns with which they may not naturally be associated, however, Simi as avoids the repetition ofhis initial categorization of the nightingale and simultaneously implies that he, by analogy with the bird, is holy or pure as he produces this poem.
47
For the weft as a l(mndation or basis (for sound argumentation), see Plato Phdr. 268a.
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173 Now that Simias has
treated the creation of the egg, f(Jr which we can substitute "pot~rn," and the hard work required of the mother, for whom we can substitute "poet," to produce it, he dcs,~ribes its
removal from its rnothcr, VirO
l/>f'Aat; eAwv 1TTepOtCTIJkUTPO<;. Hermes, the loud-shouting
· €PltJOa<; ' a' 'E"'Pika~ '"' el
'"' "" Kapu~,
· Uc l assonant eKI~e " .. wl mse status and behavmr
KRpushighlight, took it and placed it among mortals.48 We may sum1ise that Simias here analogizes the process of recording a poem once it has been born in the mind. As the egg leaves its mother's nest, traveling into the human realm, so the poet transfers the poem
from his imagination to the page, a context that makes his production accessible to the human world, that is, his audience. Simi as fills out the contours of the egg by increasing the length of the lines creating it. He imbues these with speed by inserting a 4111 paeon (short, short, short, long), a rhythm used by comic writers,
49
between the first and third iambic metra of these lines,
which are otherwise identical to lines 5 and 6. Thus the four feet in these lines scan as iamb, 4th paean, iamb, bacchius. The foot featuring the 4th paean in line 7 contains the whole word
ep1/36a.;, the adjective describing Hennes, while U7TO cPf'Aa~ comprises this
foot in line 8, and thus the meter emphasizes the speed and commotion with which he takes the egg away from its beloved mother. 48
This account may 1:ecall a story from the Orphic tradition that Eros was born frorn an egg placed in Aether by Cronus (II. 54-58; 60; 291 ), or Aristophanes' version that Nyx. laid an egg in the depths of Erebus from which golden-winged Eros sprang (Av. 695-698). Although it is tempting to make an association between the Or·phic account of Eros' birth from an egg and this egg, especially because of Simias' interest in Orpbk~ legend in his Wings, the connection is teuuous. While we cannot say that h~tl meant to recall the Orphic or Aristophank stories, we asset1 that this poem like his Wings betrays his knowledgt~ of the Orphic and comic traditions, both in content and meter. 49
West 1996: 106-108. This meter is quite rare in tragedy, but appears with some n::gularity in early Aristophanic plays and oth(:r comic poets such as Eubulus, who wrote in the t~arly 41t. century.
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9-10:
174
aVW'jl€ (;' €"K (J;E'TpOU (J;OV0{3ap.ovoc; J1.€ TOli rr:ripot6' aegf.tl! apt8p);v
el<; a,Kpav 6€Ka.t' ixvfwv KOfYJkOV VfJkOllra pv6JJ.c7w These lines stand at the
halfway point ofthe poem, which is twenty lines l.ong. By no coincidence, here Simias chooses to describe directly the poem's metrical structure, saying that Hermes bid an •
•
•
•
•t
I
£)'
'
nnmedtate mcrease m num Jcr, (.tVW"Ye TOll napow )f
\
a foot, EK tU::Tpov fJ.OVOf.la~wvo~, to ten at the most, '
I
I
while keeping the rhythm,
KOUJ1.0V Vf/kOVTf.t
I<•
at:~elll l
et~
,
[j
)
r,
I
•
aptOJkOll 1rom one mctnca ~
I
)).H
aKpav OeKau
I
tXlllWli,
l
but all t11c
pu8f1.iov. There is some ambiguity in the
identity of f.l.e~ the object of Hermes' command, and we may interpret it as refen·ing to the egg, the poem, Simias, or some implied amalgamation of all three, because they are much conflatcd in the beginning of the poem. 50 With an erudite ami calculated structure, Simias has composed lines that both adhere to and elaborate upon the metrical scheme ofthe preceding lines. Like lines 5-8, 9 and 10 also have iambic first and second-to-last feet, followed by a bacchius. By maintaining the same metrical frame, and including such mellifluous assonance as in the
apt8ttov ...pu8ttfiw ofline 10, Simias obeys Hermes' command to maintain a proper rhythmic structure. A change in meter occurs in the second foot, however, which Simi as makes telesillean (short, long, short, short, long, short, long) to increase the line's length as well as speed it up with added short syllables. The addition of this rare meter used primarily by archaic Aeolian poets
51
emphatically accentuates the words on which it falls,
ttETpou ttovo{3a~ovo; (9), and aKpav {jeKfL{j' ixvfwv (1 0), precisely the words in each line Gow 1966: 176, 178 prints jkf.: TOli, a conjecture by Kocnnecke, although codices to Theocritus' lt~vl!s have p,e"'(av. a reading which docs .not accord with the grammar of the lines sinct~ there is no fcminint~ noun for it to modify. Although ambiguous, /kf' TOV proves a more satisfactory substitute. 50
51
West 1996: 30, 61, 142, 151.
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175 that define the smallest and greatest rnctrical units pn.::scribcd by Hermes for the poem as a whole. Tl1us Simi as demonstrates his poetic ingenuity by putting the very words that describe the poem's m.etrical change into an obscure metet\ calling attention to his own metrical virtuosity.
;r
U-12: 0ow~ Vrrep8ev (tli
down from up above, E>ows- (;' vrrep8ev WKU AEXPlOli
8evwv, traced out fhe always swift, customary~sounding cry of the Muses, ixvet navafo'Aov Titepl~wv VOf,t0001J7TOli au'aav. Although the content of these lines is not
wholly clear, manifest by, for example, the necessary addition of (rrrropa~wv) 52 in line 11 and the textual crux at
i'Tovt 53 in line 12, the general sense is clear.
Hem1es now generates the rhythms of the meter with another obscure metrical fonn. Again, reduplicating the first and last feet of the preceding lines, 11 and 12 feature three iambics, and have a final bacchius. The innovation in these lines, however, is in the 4th
foot, where a slightly altered aristophanean foot lies (long, short, short, long, short,
short, long). Thus the repeated use of words denoting speed such as E>ow$', WKU, and
52
Added by C. Salmasius based on the fimn 0"1ropa,fJ•Y)'I/ that appears in the scholia (Gow 1966: I 76) and allows for proper scansion. 53
The AP has scheme.
6€vw Tali (Gow 1966:
176), but neithct version of the line affords the necessary metrical
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176
navaloAov, together with the rapidity of the aristophancan foot, yield a quickened pace that accords with the prescription delivered in lines 9 and 10.
entirely avvay from the nightingale and her egg, embodied hy the exchange of l.imbs (i.e., metrical cola) for swift, rapid fawns, 6oa'i'<; IQ-' aioAat<; ve{3pol;
Kw'A' l:JJJ...auqwv, and
describes another parent-child relationship, that of nimble deer and their offspring, apO'mO~WJJ
€/..(upwv TfK£tTO't. The fawns msh forward desirous of milk from the I
1{J
mother's teat, Tat ... Ttoocp
~
~taTpor;
~ I
'
';:f,
lJ'
I!
I
pwov-r atlfla Jk€o l/k€PO£VTa
f'/ JW,~ov,
and run along
high mountain tracks in search of their common nurse, nfiuat Kpaml!Ol~ Ll'rrf!,P aKpWV
. pastures o f• sheep, otwv ' ,., opewv ' ' , efJaV "a and t he caves of the Nymphs, mountam VO/hOli avTpa
Nup..!/>av. The change in subject, while continuing the theme of creation and bilih,
presents Simias with the opportunity to subvert audience expectations and display further metrical ingenuity. The eoal'r; and al6Aatr; of line 13 echo 0owr; and navafoAov of lines 11 and 12, respectively, and the assonance of the forms emphasizes the theme of speed so relevant to this poem, consumed as it is with feet, meter, and rhythm. Ironically, however, lines 13 and 14 are the first to feature spondees (long, long), feet which slow down the line's rhythm. These spondees occupy the middle of the lines, preceded by two iambic feet, and are followed by an aristophancan fbot and an amphibrach (shorl, long, shmt). As we saw above, Simias places the new metrical form so that it highlights the words that form it.
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177 Thus here, KWl'.~ a)J..aUUWV COIHprise the spondaic third and f(nu1h ft~Ct in line 13, further emphasizing the unique metrical features of the poem. That is, the spondees fall
on words that themselves describe the manipulation of metrical units, or cola. Conversely, the spondaic feet ofline 14 are created by words whose meaning juxtaposes the meter, JkO:/Tpor; /)(lJov-r', but the effect is the same because the tension created by the contrast also calls attention to the meter.
Simias repeats the spondees introduced in lines 13 and 14 in the first two feet of the next two lines as well, giving the reader the sense that these lines have an initial drag. This sluggishness, however, is eradicated by three successive feet of 4th paeons and a
catalectic iambic trimeter that counterbalance the spondees as well as reflect the meaning of the line. The 4111 paeons in line 15, for example, are created by {nrep at
'
'
I
\
17-19: KatI
>
llJ
'
J.'
"\
1"1\) wp.ooUJLO~ ap.'l'ma.~~.-rov
')).' (J,J, ' a ~~;f,' '+' auuav v,1p ev
l"j
~
t::'
KO.fi.TrOl~ ue':lap.evo~
8aAapliv JkU~OI1"Ct'iOl\) pfp,c/>a m:-rpOKOlTOV £KAI1!WV opouu' euva,v, JtaTpr)(; 1!Aa'}'KTOV JLatop.evot; {3aAtfi<; €:Aelv -ret
nimble fawns of the last lines, some savage beast, Tl<; iVp,68up,o~ (J~p who hears them
bleating, auMv and rushes out of his rocky lair to try and catch one that has wandered
in mind the beast, like the fawns, rushes along the valleys of the mountains, opewv
,,
)/
e(J'(J'IJTat a'J'xo;.
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178 The meter becomes increasingly complex as Shnius balances the need to rnakc the number of feet g,row, in accordance wi.th the edict of lines 9 and 10, and to reconcile the meter with the content of his concluding lines. Lines 17 and 18 each have eight feet: two trochaics, a erotic, three spondees, an aristophanean, and a final iarnbic foot. As in the preceding lines, the spondees arc partkularly emphatic. Simias dramatizes the action in line 17 with the placement ofthe spondaic feet,
ai/!Jav fJ~p ev 1
imagine that as the short, fast syllables pause, so, too, the beast pauses in his lair to listen to the fawns' cry. Likewise, the spondaic feet in line 18 encapsulate a (potential) moment of high drama, namely what might happen to one of the fawns who wandered from its mother, euvav~J.a'T'pcu; 7TAalyi
very fast rhythm that here, as above, emphatically illustrates its content. The meter tracks the beast's excitement as he swiftly traces the direction of the fawn's cry, Wl
;3oat;
a1
54
and used especially by archaic lyric poets for a marching rhythm. 55
Maas 1962: l 0. Although purely conjectural, r suggest that Simius may have intentionally used a "Doric" meter at the very end of his poem both to highlight the poetic tradition he has inherited (as a Dorian from Rhodes) and to balance thtl L'::.wpirJ,.; at the bt:gilllling of the poem (4 ). 54
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179
Thus we may imagine the swi f1 marching of the predator as he strikes out over the mountains following the sound ofhis prey. The latter half of the line becomes more rapid still with two
4th
paeons contained in the sonorous 1m(w{36'Awv ri.v' opewv, reflecting the
speed with which the beast rushes out, €uuu-rat, looking for that lone, wandering fawn, perhaps suggested by the catalectic end of this line as well as 15 and 16. The reader gets the sense that the beast: has gone off in the direction of the line's catalexis. 20: -ra~ (}.(; (}altLCulJ I
The concluding line of the
poem also consists often feet and scans in the same rapid pattem as its metrical equivalent, line 19. Simias has changed subjects one last time, however, leaving the topic of the beast and his prey hanging, just like the last .tbot of that last line ( 19). H.e reverts instead to more explicit references to his metrical virtuosity, overtly attributing these intricate measures of song, rro/..{mAot
55
West 1996: 53ll
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180
them to his poetry, intending the audicnc1.~ tQ understand that he, not a nightingale and not Hermes, created and nurtured the egg visible on the page.
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181
n. [(~EOKPrfOT] l:TPII'E (AP 15.21). Afl:cr Gow 1966: 180.
56
(5)
(1 0)
(15)
(20) The Syrinx of Ps.-Theocritus
(5)
(10)
57
The bed-fellow of no one and mother of the far-fighter bore the swift guide of the nurse of the one replaced by a stone, not Cerastas, whom the one sprung from the bull once reared, but him whose heart was formerly bumt by the pi-lacking rim of a shield, whole in name, a double animal, who had desire for the voice-dividing maiden, born of sound, like the wind, he who constructed a shrill wound for the violet-crowned Muse, a monument of fire-roaring desire, he who quenched the courage by the same name of the grandfather-slayer and [led out] theTyrian woman. The one to whom Paris Simichidas offered this beloved possession of those who can-y the blind; delighting your soul with it, you who trample on men,
56
For scholarly treatment of this poem, Ernst I 991: 74-82 (text and commentary); Gow 1973: 256, 552-557 (text, app. crit., paraphrase, and detailed commentary); Wojaczck 1969: 91-104, 147-148 (text and commentary); Gow 1966: 180-181 (text, app. crit, and excerpts from Palatine and bucolic [E, M, U] scholia); Wendel1966: 336~341 {Palatine and bucolic tE, M, U] scholia); Paton 1960: 124,125 (text, translation, and paraphrase); Edmonds 1938: 501-503 (text, app. crit., translation, and cursory commentary); Hacberlin 1887: 74, 80-81, 87-88 (text, app. crit, and Palatine schoHa). 57
It is perhaps due to the complexity oftl1e poem's riddles and the difficulty of rendering a translation that Gow 1973: 554 offers only a paraphrase of the poem, despite the filet that he gives translations for all other epigrams in his publication.
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182 (15)
(20)
goad of the Sacttian woman, son of a thief~ without a father, box-footed one, may you play sweetly to the mute maiden, beautifully-voiced,
invisible. The metrical scheme of the poem, pairs of lines that begin as dactylic hexameters
(l-2) and decrease one half~tbot per pair until they become cataleclic dimeters ( 19~20), causes the lines to diminish in a gradated fashion; the image of a syrinx, or pan-pipe emerges as the eye progresses from the top to the bottom of the poem. Thus before the audience even reads the poem, the association with this instrument is visually explicit and present in the mind. Part ofthe clue needed to unravel the poem's riddks has already been given. Appropriate to the shape of the poem, the topic of the poem is Pan himself. The poem is self-referential, calling itself-ro~e in the fashion of its archaic and hellenistic models (12); it maintains the standard epigrammatic format as it describes itself as a gift from one Paris Simichidas 58 to Pan (11-12), and then concludes with a direct address to Pan asking that he play the instrument sweetly to the beautifully-voiced, yet mute, Echo (17-19). Pan's identification, however, along with that of his loves, is intentionally complicated by allusive and elusive mythological references and word-games.
'"' ' euva.-retpa M aKportTOt\€/),OtO 1: 0 uoevo~ 'I
";1
oe. p,a'T'Y)p 'll'
I
The poem begins with veiled
references to Penelope as she is known in the epi.c tradition, as wife of Odysseus and mother ofTelemachus. Her identification as the ''bed-fellow of No One" is synonymous
ss This name provided the impetus fi:~r attributing this poem to Theocritus. See below, 185-186, 190-191 for further discussion.
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183
\Vith her status as the wife of Odysseus since. in
Odysst~y
9, when tricking
Polyphemus, Odysseus refers to himself as Oo-r1~, "'Nobody" (366). 'I'hc rest of the line bears out the reference to Penelope but her idcntifi.cation continues to be veiled by a clever, etymologi<.~al trick. She is the mother ofMaKpOTITOAEfWIO, a compound hapax
legomenon which, when broken down into its constituent parts, consists of the root \Vords t-taKpo~ and 1TTOAetUJ~. The Palati.ne and bucolic scholia (E, M, and U) explain that this 59
. T.el emach us because TO' 7ap \ T'Y}t\€ ""' tLaKpav eU'Tt, 1s I
'
I"). <:;..' 1tOt\cf1Jo; Oe
' 'J'I1e acIvcr.b 'YtJ !LWX/YJ·
MaKp07r'ToA£f.I-O.; and "'T'elemachus" etymologically identical. Although not particularly
difficult, the reader must solve this dddle by unraveling the author's playful variation on the epic tradition in order to identify the subject of line l as Penelope. This line begins the shift away from the description of the standard, epic Penelope and toward the typically hellcnistic manipulation of well-known mythological figures. The author combines both traditional, archaic clues as well as hellenistic ones as he reveals that Penelope gave birth to someone in addition to Telemachus, but his identity remains unknown. There are literary antecedents to Ps.-Theocritus· assertion that Penelope was not mother solely to Telemachus. The reader ofthis poem may have been aware, for example, that Hecataeus (1F371) and Pindar (Bowra fr. 90) preserve the account that the union of Penelope and Apollo resulted in the birth of Pan. Conversely, for Penelope and Hennes as parents to Pan, we may recall Herodotus (2.145), Apollodorus (Epit. 738-40), Cicero (ND 3.22.56), Hyginus (F'ab. 224), and Lucian (D. Deor. 2). Finally, Duris ofSamos (76F21) relates the 59
For the scholia to the whole poem, Wcndel1966: 336-341.
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184
remarkahle account that Penelope consorted with all of the suitors in ordct· to conceive Pan. Without knowledge of this variety oflitcrary accounts, a considerable amount of cross-referencing is required to understand that by this line the poet means that Penelope also gave birth to a goatherd. We can only atTive at this definition by working backwards and taking the meaning of the line quite literally. The first word ofthc line, I suggest, is emphatic in its placement and purposely ambiguous. It is difficult to know how to interpret p.ala~ since it could be taken as the proper name '"Maia,'' or simply as the noun meaning "nurse."60 Maia is best known in mythology as consort of Zeus and mother of Hermes (e.g., Hes. Th. 938-39) and, I suggest, would be the more likely inHial reading by the poem's audience. Since line 1 couches the identities of both Odysseus, Tclemachus, and Penel.ope in epic-based riddles, the audience is likely to continue interpreting in the same vein, deducing that the Syrinx must somehow include Maia and Hermes as well. Although the audience soon learns that this reading of the noun does not clarify the line's meaning, Ps.-Thcocritus has not completely misled us. He has, rather, tricked us into making an association with Hermes that is another necessary clue for understanding the poem and will he resumed in the lines to come (e.g., 15). By taking the first word as a generic noun, we learn that Penelope's offspring is a
8oov lew'M")pa, a "swift guide" and guides the ''nurse of the one replaced by a stone,'' p.ata-; av-rmeTpotO. The scholia, referring to the story familiar to us from Hesiod,
identify Zeus as "the one replaced by a stone," since Kronos ingested a stone instead of
Set! line 19 for similar ambiguity with KaMtOrtfl, and AP 14.18 where it is unclear \~;b<~ther to take 'l\ ''l" as proper names or genenc . nouns. uwp;r;u'Y)r; an<.1 a,tac;
60
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185
Zeus, his intended target for consumption (11l. 453 . 491). The inlhnt Zeus' mn·sc, according to one hcllcnistic version oft he story, was the goat, Amalthcia, first assigned this name in Callimachus' H.vmn to Zeus (1.47-48). 61 We can understand this line, then, to mean that Penelope's progeny is a goatherd since, as the scholia relate, l6wT~pa oov
nurse \Vho is a goat and thus, is called a "goatherd." Ironically, the poet, about to embark on a lengthy and detailed description of Penelope's mysterious offspring (4-16), tells us first who he is not Ironically, too, the audience, who knows from the first \Vord of the line, ouxi, that this identifi.cation will not assist in discovering who Penelope's other child is, must undergo the process of unraveling the meaning of this hne; we must focus on revealing a character who we know is not the focus of the poem. The key to understanding this line lies deeply embedded within the hellenistic literary tradition. The scholia relate that Kepar; e01iv 6pfg <6pig (]€ ern1v 'ry KO{Jl'fJ>. 62 These synonyms provide the etymological link necessary for reading the name "Cerastas" as "Comatas" and it is the name Comatas which directs us towards Theocritus' Idyl/7. There, the narrator Simicbidas63 encounters a friend and goatherd, Lycidas. Each sings a song to the other and Lycidas' propemptikon includes a wish that Tityrus sing to him of Comatas, a goatherd from the mythical past (78-89). Lycidas relates how Comatas was
01
Traditionally, howt\ver, the name was assigned to thu woman who owned the goat that nursed the god (e.g., Ps.-Eratosth. Cat. 13, Ovid Fas. 5.111-280). 62
''
3
I include the latter part ()fthe statt·ment COI\jt•ctured by Werld<Jl 1966: 338. For the relevance of this name as it appears in Idyll 7 to the ,)'yrinx, see below, 190~ 19!.
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186
shut up in a chest, a Aapva~, and fed flowers and honey by bees so that he would not starve. 64 The association between the two poems also helps reveal the meaning of the rest
of the line. As the scholia relate, bees are -rauprrrraTwp since rrf)1Top,evwv TWV Ttxupwv ~J;eAtuua~
appearance here as well. The poet~ then, in an obvious attempt to place himself\vithin the Theocritean tradition, ensures, as if it were a necessary clarifi.cation, that the reader docs not confuse the goatherd in the Syrinx with this other goatherd, described only in lclyl/7. Here begins the list of veiled references to the goatherd who is the focus of the poem. A riddle based on semantics and etymological play compels the audience to decipher the identity of one of the goatherd's former loves. In order to determine who she is, we must focus on the hapax legomenon, 7ietAme~, "lacking-the-letter-7T." This curious adjective modifes the noun Tepp.a, which
is part of the description of the edge of a shield (ua«ou~). According to the scholia, the word for the outenn.ost rim of a shield is i'-rus-, and so when one adds the letter 7T to this word, the result is 7TlTU~ and, as Nonnus con·oborates much later in the
5th
century (2.118;
42.258-61), Pan was inflamed with love for the nymph, Pitys. 65
The first two words ofline 5, ouvop,' o'Aov, "whole in name," also aid the reader in solving the mystery of line 4. They serve a double function, as I argue further below,
- - - - - - · ····--------·-· 64
For the complexities of this passage and the ambiguity of its meaning, see Gow 1973: ii, 129-130, 152154. In fact, the entire poem, as compared to the other bucolic idylls, stands out as unique f(ll' its personal tone and has created a controversial debate about Theocritus' relationship to the narrator and the other figures, e.g., Gow 1973: ii, 127-129; Dover 1994: 145-150; Hunter 1999: 144-150,77-79. See too, Prop. 1.18.20, Lucian D. D~:or. 22.4, and Longus 2.7.6; 39.3 for the story that Pan's passion fbr Pitys caused him to pursue her until she metamorphosed into a pine tree.
65
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187 and as such, lend meaning to the separate expn~ssions of both Jinos 4 and 5.
GQW
points out that, ''the riddle is somewhat un1birly phrased, for .. .p~lackin;a; and shield-rim might be supposed to mean that the letter was to be subtracted from the word to product~ the answer, \Vhereas il: must be addcd."66 lr, however, we take OUJIOit'
oAov as an
enjambed phrase to be read closely with line 4, in apposition to TretAmer; i'Epp..a, we see that the poet has given the reader directions on how to flm11 the narne "Pitys." Rather than subtract the letter in question, we are being explicitly told to add the letter in order to make the 'ITftAmeq Tepp..a "whole in name" and thus, the poetic anomaly is resolved. As discussed above, the first
phrase ofline 5 can be interpreted in the context of line 4, or it can stand on its own as a relatively obvious, but nonetheless clever pun. I suggest that it need not function in one way or the other, but rather that we should understand it as having both functions simultaneously. While we can n::ad it as part of the key to discovering the meaning of line 4, we can also interpret it as a pun designed to indicate to the audience who Penelope's offspring is. The pun lies in the fact that oAov and '!Tal/ are synonymous adjectives and so here is the first truly clear clue to the identity of the goatherd. The next word ofline 5, ~f,wv, which I have chosen to translate as "double animal,"67 is equally easily interpreted
since Pan was both man and goat. The remainder oflines 5-6, paralleling line 4, describe Pan in terms of his erotic pursuits. Here, the object of his desire is a maiden who ''divides the voice" (JLeponm;), is 66
Gow 1973: 555.
17 '
See Dosiadas' Altar (line 17) below, 207-208, where the adjective modifies Odysseus and there, owing to its context, l translate it as ''twi.ce-living.''
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188
"born of sound"68 ("rYJPV"YOVar;), and is "like the wind" (ave:p.c!J~t:o.;). ·rhe scholia explain that this is Echo because she returns sound to the speaker, but only the latter half of what was voiced, p.epo<; -ro -rfAE'Via,wv, and so she 11terally divides the voice. 69 Echo is born frm:n sound because she takes her genesis fi·om the creation of sound and without it could not ex.ist; finally, sound is generally voiced and so she is like the wind, since the breath required to create sound flows like currents of wind. The clue to l)an's identity in these lines lies in the double meaning of tlAKD<;, whose primary meaning is "wound.;' Line 7 makes sense until the reader arrives at the enjambcd and unexpected noun at the beginning of line 8. It is particularly confounding since the audience anticipates a noun modified by the adjective At~ and the meanings of the noun and adjective pair here do not readily come together. The scholia explain that there was a particular kind of wound called a "syrinx" because of its shape, el1i6.; ,.; eO'Til/ EAKOVS
oU-rw KaAOUJh€liOV; as the
medical writers corroborate, a "syrinx" was a wound which had a long narrow shape and was characterized by much pus and suppuration. 70 Thus, the subject ofline 7 has, in fact, constructed a shrill "syrinx" or pan-pipe for the violet-crowned Muse, which resolves the nonsensical adjective and makes the dedication to the Muse appropriate. TI1e rest of1ine 8 reinforces the reading of eAKo<; as both "wound" and "syrinx" since, in the poem's third reference to Pan's amatory endeavors, the object in question is 68
See Dosiadas Altar (line 2) below, l98-200,whcre the ·word applies to Jason and again, because of context, I have translated. it diiTerently. 69 70
For the Pan and Echo story, sc1c also Moschus 6; Longus 3.23; Nonnus 2.117-19. Hp. Ulc.; Gal. 10.232. For uOpt'}'S used to denote a wound, Hp. Coac. 501; Gal. 6.244; Plu. 2.60a.
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189 also an alyaNJ,a of desire. 71 This expression plays Up()n an interpretation of the implied "syrinx" as both tlu.~ generic noun and proper namc,
72
Pan's love for the nymph, Syrinx, attested later by Ovid (Met.
and we arc meant to recall 1.689~ 712)
and Longus
(2.34). The eA«oc;, then, is also a wound in the sense that Pan's pursuit of Syrinx was unrequited and he conslructed the instrument as a testament t() his loss. 73 The key to unraveling this pair of lines is understanding the phrase avopeav Iuau~ea
namro
helpfully identify the 7TCJ/7rno
law.1lJea, with Perseus, is '~Persian." Pan's
exploits against the Persian enemy at Marathon had already been attested as early as Herodotus (6.105).
74
Thus, our goatherd is also a political ally to the Greeks and perhaps,
depending on the textual reconstruction of the last word ofline 10, helped to free a Tyrian woman. 75 As we leam from the scholia, we should read the "Tyrian" woman as the mythological "Europa" since Zeus snatched her away from there, r(;
Eupwm; vrro
b..toc; aprraaf:)elua EKe'i1Jev ~v. It is appropriate, too, I argue, to interpret "Europa" as an
71
Sec below, 209, for the significance of the physical, material realm which the words nii.gev (7), o.ra)c~.w,
(8) evoke. 72
See above, lines 2 and 5 and below, line 19 fiJr this familiar anibiguity.
71 •
An interpretation supported by eAKo~ as "loss" at Theoc. 11.15.
71
Cf. Plmuulean Anthologr' 232 (attributed to Simonides) and 259 (anonymous); Pausanias 1.28.4.
75
Gow 1966: 180 adopts C. Haeberlin's conjecture. For further discussion, see Gow 1973: 556.
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190 allegory fbr the politically and geographically defined landwmass, Europe so that the battle between East and West, as recalled in lint~ 9, is paralleled in line l 0.
Perhaps the most renowned couplet of the poem, these lines have led to much confusion about its authorship. 'fhey begin with the fifth relative pronoun clause marker in a row (4, 5, 7, 9), follow tbc triple anaphora of o<; (5, 7, 9), and mark the second half of the poem, giving them special emphasis and prominence. There is a notable shit1 in tone, t<Jo, as the narrator leaves off describing Pan as the subject of the verbs, and instead fashions him as the dedicatee, the passive recipient of the object whose shape the poem emulates. The dedicatory gift is a 'lT'iiMa epa'Tov, where rra!-La can be read for m}Ma and, as the scholia relate, rra!ka
(J€ TO K1filka,. Uncovering the underlying meaning of
Tuc/>'Aoc/>opwv requires the deconstruction of a similar play on definitions and homophones. The scholia note that a synonym for TUcPA7J, "blind," is 7Tr)pa, "maimed, disabled, blind." The pun, then, takes advantage of the fact that TrY)pa and rrf;pa, "wallet,
leather satchel," are virtually identical looking and sounding, despite a very great difference in meaning. Thus Pan can be identified as the one to whom the beloved "possession" of the "satchel-carriers" was dedicated. The gi It, then, is a syrinx since the satchel-can-iers are "rustics", arypOIKOt, known for canying both leather satchels (for food?) and the pan-pipe fi)l' music-making. The dedicator of the gift is named Paris Simichidas. As noted above, the Jigure of Simichidas is familiar as the naiTator ofTheocritus' l<~Jlll7 where a man by thi.s name
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191
sings a bucolic song in an exchange 'With the singer Lyc1das. 76 The appearance of the odd name here suggests an underlying reference to Thcocritus himself because the ego of Jdyl/7, a poet contemporary '\>Vith Theocritus, so strongly suggests that the narrator of that
poem should be identified as Thcocritus himself. 77 The poet ofthe s:vrinx, whether Theocritus or not, relics on this association. The pun incorporated into the name "Paris" further reinfbrces this association since the mythical Trojan goatherd Paris was also called '''fheocritus,'' literally, "one who judges the gods."n These two names in association with one another have led to so much debate about the authorship of this poem. This line marks the beginning of the last sentence of the poem which, fittingly, is a direct address to the dedicatee. The nan·ator wishes that Pan would delight his soul with the .<:.yrinx, an optative of wish completed by the verb in line 16. 79 {3poTo/3av-wv, the first of five vocatives in the subsequent three lines, is explained by recalling mythological characters. Pan, as a halfgoat who dwells in mountainous and wooded regions is, rather than a "trampler-of-men,'' a "trampler-of rocks," 'Tr€TpopaT'Y)~, and the etymological link between the two terms comes from the Deucalion and Pyrrha myth in which they create humans by throwing
76
See above, 185-186, for the relevance of Idyll?. See also n. 64.
77
For fwther discussion of the identification ofTheocritus as Simichidas, see Gow 1973: ii, 127-154; Dover 1994: 145-150. 7
a Dosiadas reverses this pun, referring to the Trojan Paris as "Thcncritus" (Altar 10).
79
Despite the fact that both the Palatine and bucolic manuscripts, as well as the scholia, pn:serV() xa,tpOI~, Gow prints xatpei:; (1966: 180). I have chosen to treat it as a present optative which is both in accordance with the ancient manuscripts as well as traditional dedicatory fi:mnuh1e.
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192 rocks behind them. 110 The false(?) etymology provided by Apollonius where humans
a:re called Aaof because of their genesis from a stone, A.fiar;, provides the link between
{3poTo/3a.tJ.WV and Tr€Tpo{3a'T'fr;~ (Bib. 1.7.2); Pan is the "trampler of men" in the sense that men were once rocks or stones. "5"' '"' 14: O'Trr)Ta<; ou:rrpe .:..;aerra; I
I
Although the meaning ofthis
line remains unc.lem-/ 1 I adopt the suggestion of the scholia that because uTi;Tr; is synonymous with ')ll.lll"f;82 and the adjective ''Saettian" means "Lydian," we are meant to recall the story in \vhieh Pan falls in love with Omphalc and acts as her "goad'' by assaulting the transvestite Hcracles, an account .later attested by Ovid (Fas. 2.305). With two vocatives that min-or one another morphologically but are semantic antitheses, the poet otTers conflicting accounts of Pan's paternal line. In the beginning of this poem, he was described as Penelope's son, but his father was not clearly marked out. Here, he is the "son of a thief," which alludes to the tradition that his father is Hermes, and simultaneously has no father at all. 83 The scholiasts place the latter categorization in the
context familiar from Duris ofSamos (76F21), namely that Penelope coupled with all of the suitors, resulting in Pan's genesis~ arraTwp ~e
wq rroAvrraTwp. Edmonds, however,
so For this tradition, Acus. 2F35; Pi. 0. 9.41-46; Epich. (Kaibel1958: 112-113); Apollod. Bib. 1.7.2; Ovid Met. 1.163-312. 81
Gow is not satisfied with the explanation of tl1.e scholia, owing mostly to his reading of oi(]"'("p€ \Vith subjective, rather than objective genitives. Instead, he follows others in interpreting the femalt1 figure as Ariadne instead of Ornphale. Even so, he is frustrated with the lack of clarity and states, "the riddle again seems very unfair" (1973: 557). 82
Sec below at Altar 1, 197-199, for a discussion of the ialse etymology of O"'M]"r'l'} and its Homeric: antecedent 83
See Dosiudas Altar 7 for a,rramop applied to Hephaestus.
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193
interprets the alpha-privative noun to mean Odysseus since, in line l, he was ''no onc." 84 While we cannot be certain whom the author means, in just t-vvo words confined by the metrical scheme ofcatalectic trimeter, we arc presented with two connicting
accounts of Pm1' s heritage, each accurate in its own tradition, but mutually exclusive nonetheless. The vocative epithet provides another clue to Pan's identity as part-animal. With typicaJ etymological games, the poet according to the scholia, cleverly refers to the fact that Pan is hoofed because lvipva,g (;€
1} x(r}'Aor;, and thus, Pan is 'X:r(Ainrour;. 17-20:
atlv JL€Aio-tJo1r;
eMorrt KOUP'!<,
KaMu5Trq, vr)AEurrrqJ
The conclusion of the poem
comes with a second optative of wish, tbnnulaically requesting that Pan play sweetly, presumably upon the pan-pipe itself, to the mute, ~tMot/;, yet beautifully-voiced,
KaMtcnra, maiden. 85 The paradox in these adjectives parallels that of line 16, although here, because the figure being described is Echo, the two descriptors are both accurate. Echo is mute because she can not generate sound on her own terms, of her own volition;
84
Edmonds 1938: 503.
Although l print Gow's text here. 1 prefer to read Ka)~u51l'fi£ as the generic noun rather than the proper name as Gow prints it As we have se<m above, the poc.t creates what I deem intentional ambiguity in the context of.inlerpreting names (e.g., 2, 5). Here, there can be no reason for supposing that Ps.-Theocritus might specify the Mllse, Calliope-, for the~ scholia support the reiteration of Echo and !his interpretation also lends itself to the structural unity ofthe poem in a loose manifestation ofring composition. We do note, however, a tantalizing archaic parallel in the image of Calliope, identified by a name-label, playing a syrinx in the Peleus and Thetis freize of the Fran9ois Vase (Florcnct~ 4209), fig. 24.
85
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194
once sound is produced, however, she ret1ecls it back to the source and thus, );
~
possesses a voice.'<, The last word of the poem means "invisible" because, as the scholia reveal,
vri)Aeurrrov ()€ w}v aopa-rov. This parallelism can be explained by the fact that the profi.x V'Y)
has a negative, privative quality, rrrEP'Y)TtKI:rv, and is semantically equivalent to the
widely used alpha-privative. So too, the root verbs of the two words are synonym.ous, both meaning, as the scholia explain, "to gaze, look," TO <Se A€U(J'0"€1V
f:·rrrlv TO opav.
This imagery is fitting for Echo since she can only be heard, not seen, and it concludes
the poem with a stark contrast to the pronounc.ed visibility of the poem's shape.
86
The imagery ofEcho here resounds with lines 5-6. See above, 187-188.
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195
.E. AO'kiAA.A BOMO!: (AP 15. 26). After Gow 1966: 182.
87
Elp,aprn:rvo~Ju; rrr:'rrra~ , , OIUa,poc;, a TrOUt~, p,EpO -reus', tnrofJetlvac;, 1vtc; 'E11/rrovuac;, p/Jpor:; TevKpoto {3ov-ra Ka.l Kuvor:; -re«vwp..a-roc;, Xpuua;; ~, riJrar:; li1M<; €1/;av(Jpa TO)) l')ll.JtOXaAI
ou
(5)
<>
f
I
I
(=?Jemcpf.row K-ravTac;
(1 0)
I
I
Tpt€(J'7T:€p010 I
xa,Aei/1£ ra,p Vlll i{jj
uup'f'au-rpor; eK~urnpac;.
(15)
<
"l!;)
' I'). ').
"'
T£/V\.lli€1.1VT Ilavoc; T€ p..a-rpOJ.
'T'OV 0
i)f~(poc; tvfc;
"!"'
.'l. T (:'),) U!J-IJlli
' '
!
'
).
I
euv€-ra<;
av6pofjpli.rroc;, 'J').opa,trrTav
t1jp' apo/wv, ec; TevKp[fJ' a'Yarov -rpfrropOov. The Altar ofDosiadas The husband of a woman in man's clothing, an articulate, twice-young man, built me, not the one lying on ashes, son of the shape-shifter, whose death was caused by a Teucrian herdsman, offspring of a dog, (5) but the beloved ofChryse, when the cook-of-men crushed the bronze-limbed guardian whom the fatherless, two-wived man, thrown by his mother, toiled over. Looking upon my monument, (10) the slayer ofTheocritus, the burner of three-night-man, shouted out tsquealing, for it wounded him with poison, the belly-trailing defier of old age. (15) And him tcatching with netst in the place surrounded by waves both the bed-fellow of the mother of Pan, a thiet: twice-living, and the son of the man-eater, for the sake of the Ilion-destroying arrows, led to the thrice-destroyed Teucrian city.
7 R
For scholarly treatment of this poem, Ernst 1991: 83-86 (text and commentary); W ojaczek l%9: l 05112, 149 (text and commentary); Gow 1966: 182-83 (text, app. crit., and excerpts fi:om bucolic [F, V, Y] scholia); Wendel 1966: 346-50 (bucolic [F, Y] scholia); Paton 1960: 132-33 (text, translation, and paraphrase); Edmonds 1938: 505-07 (text, app. crit., and translation); Powell 1925: 175-76 (lext and app. crit.); Haeberlin 1887: 73, 79-80, 85-86 (text, upp. edt., and scholia).
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196 The Altar, like the .S)•rinx, calls attention to its shape, although here the references are more explicit. Wc look upon a poem in the shape of an altar as the altar "speaks'' in the tirst person, describing itself and its construction, fi.£ ... Te£Jg· (1~3). Dosiadas presents the reader with the image of a physical objec:t made by lines of varying length with an iambic metrical scheme (anceps, long, short, long). The first two lines of the poem represent the Hat top of a three dimensional monolithic altar where sacrificial items would have been burned, here formed by two catalectic dimet.ers, that is, tw() iambic n1etra that lack the end of the final
f()Ot,
resulting in a blunted rhythm. Just below
this, Dosiadas creates a two-tiered projecting tn()lding, trimeters composing lines 3 and 4, catalectic trimeters ending in a sp()ndee (long, long) forming the lower part of the comice (5-6). Lines 7-14 lbnn the altar shaft, the place where altars were regularly inscribed, 88
and all are catalectic dimeters, making them the same length as the top (1-2). Finally, the shaft stands on a two-stepped plinth ( 15-18), the upper step made by cata]ectic trimeters (15-16), the lower by catalectic tetrameters (17-18). Thus units of meter, feet and cola,
are building blocks for the p()em both as poetry and as physical object. Just as the altar appears to be comprised ()f distinct architectural elements, so, too, Dosiadas has arranged the poem's contents in distinct parts. The altar narrates that Jason, husband of Medea, built it (1-3) and that it is the same altar up()n which Philoctctes gazed when he was bitten by a venomous snake (9-14). Finally, Odysseus and Diomedes retrieved Philoctetes fi:om Lemnos so that be could bring about the final destruction of Troy (15-18). These simple points emerge in tripartite division, as the triple repetition ofthe conjunction (Jfi atlcsts (5, 9. 15), paralleling the triple theme of 88
Yavis 1949: 141.
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197 guardianship that runs throughout the poem in Talos ( 6-8)~ the serpent ( 13~ 14), and the Palladium (Hi). This structure proves a valuable aid to the reader f()r unraveling the
poem's intricate riddles and allusions, explained and analyzed by the scholia to the bucolic manuscripts F, V, and Y. Dosiadas' Altar is also notable for its interconnectedness with the Ps.- Theocrilean S)winx. Not only do the two poems share a common vocabulary of the most uncommon kind, 89 but in some cases, one poem can assist in unraveling the riddles in the other.
90
In a
way that sets them apart from Simi as' poems, this Altar and the .s:vrin.r feature parallel riddle structures; the identification of characters is initially veiled and ultimately realized through obscure mythological references and ambiguous word play, features mostly lacking in Simias' poems. While the two poems interact with and respond to one another, we do not know which was composed first. As discussed above, 91 the authorship and chronology of the
S)-·rinx remains problematic and similarly, we remain unable to ascertain exactly when Dosiadas was active. Any attempt, therefore, to use one poem to clarify the other becomes circular and ultimately inconclusive. All we know with any certainty is that at least one of these authors was aware ofthe other's composition and consciously deepened the level of play by creating an intetiextual dialogue between the two poems.
89
e.g., trT'~Ta,r; (Altar I, 5)win"t 14), ;.dpot/J (Altar 2, .~yrinx 5), ()fS(JJor; (Altar 17, s:vrinx 5).
· · bctween rra,IJ,fJ, ·~ r·I..a.p11; ' uera {J' ...~ '1>. · · , KTaVTat; , (Altar e.g., t1le mteractwn .:...IIJAX,War; (.S),rinx 12)· and· e "'eoKptTOW ' ' S' l) an<.11 r·I avor; ' Tfi ~taTpor; ' ewe-ra:; ' ' (AItar]()). . ' ~ ' ewa-retpa, (c.yrinx l ()) or 0 uoevo5
"0
'II
140-141.
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198
In standard epigrammatic dedicatory language the object speaks forth, referring to itself, p,e, as well as to its manufacturer in its tirst lines. Rather than follow the traditional practice of explicitly naming the person who made it, however, Dosiadas has playfltlly veiled his identity. As with the S)winx, the Altar begins by defining the subject in terms of his relationship with his spouse, 1TOtTt~; the Syrinx's Penelope was initially defined by her status as Odysseus· wife and here the subject is the husband of a woman in man's clothing, eip.apuevo~
rrrrfrrac;, a man who is also articulate, p,epot/; and twice-young, ~lua,j3oc;. While the definition of eif,kapuevoc; is clear enough, e1ita, "clothing" combines with ap0'7)V, "male" to mean "male's clothing," the definition of the word O"T'~Tat; is not immediately clear. Before the reader can interpret the riddling reference behind df,kaprrevo~ rrrr/;-rat;, she must first define the words themselves, a task that requires
knowledge of a f11lse reading of line 6 of book 1 of the Iliad. The beginning of the Iliad recounts the cont1ict between Agamemnon and Achilles, desc1ibing their struggle with one another, ~tar,rrrf;T'Y)v t-ptua'IJT€, "quarreling, they were at variance" (1.6). The authors of the Syrinx and this Altar play upon the tradition of altering that line to read ~Ia
rrrri)Tf'f)V EplO"UVT€ by splitting up the constituent parts of the aorist dual verb ~tar,rrr{;Tf'f)V to create the preposition and the accusative noun that it modifies, ~ta rrrr/;T'Y]v. The context ofthe passage and the book in which it falls suggest to the audience of the altered line that rrrrfJT'Y) is a noun that means "woman" because that is the source of the conflict between Agamemnon and Achilles, rendering a new reading of the
line~
"quarreling on
account of a woman." 91 Thus Dosiadas, like the author of the Syrinx, uses a word that his 92
For ancient explanations of<1'T1}T'YJ, see sch. Dion. 'I'hrac. 11, Tzetz. Exeg. in !1. 68, Eust. 21, 42.
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199
audience can really only understand if they arc familiar with the litcrmy tradition of the alteration of a Homeric line, which although attested here and in the ..s:vrinx (14) fbr the first time, must have been a source for witty inl:ertcxtual exchange befbre the technopaegni a. Now that the audience can define El/UXpt:revot:; rnr/;Tat; as "a woman in man's clothing." they must unveil the identity of this woman. The scholial) 3 assist with this curious reference by explaining that Medea, while contriving against Theseus dming her stay at Athens. was caught and fled to a part of Asia now cal1ed M'Y)6fa, clothed in a
' t:l. • ...') as.Jason, an man ' s c1oak~ avopq>av U'TOA'Y)V. 94· 1''h.us we may I(• tent1•f'y the 1TO(J't-; o f 1me I
"\
I
I
identification corroborated by the following two words, /1-Epot/; and lJlt:ra/3o-;. Again, the scholia aid our understanding when they explain that Jason, whose traditional home is Thessaly, is /1-Epot/; because Mepot/; is equivalent to 0et:r(J'aA6q, "'l'hessalian," because the Thessalians were colonists of the Meropians. More familiar is the description of Jason as lJfua/3os, ''twice-young.'' He was young the first time as a child. The account of his second youth parallels Medea's rather infamous ability to bring a cut up ram back to life as a lamb, as she is reported to have done in her effort to deceive the daughters of Pelias, causing them to boil their father to death. 95 Another tradition that traces back to the late archaic period attributes to her the
___ _ _._______________ ..
93
..
For the scholia to the whole poem, Wendel 1966: 346-350, Gow 1966: .183.
9
~ Wendell966: 347.
~5 Although only later authors such as Apoll<Jdorus (Bibliorheca 1.9.27) and Ovid (Met. 7.297-321)
preserve this story, black figure Attic vases fi-orn the last third of the 6111 century represent this seem!: a ram emerges from a cauldron surrounded by several women and sometimes an old rnan (e.g., London 13328, B22l). See further, Gantz 1993: 364~365.
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200 ability to bring a man, rather than a rarn, back to life. While some ancient authors identified this person as Aeson, Jason's father, according to Simonidcs (548 PMG) and Pherecydcs (3F113), Medea brings Jason back to life, affording him a second youth.
96
The beginning of Hnc 3 yields the postponed main verb 'T'eOg', a placement that playfully requires the audience to wait for the verb until they have identified the verb's subject. The verb's position here also allows Dosiadas to create a parallel form in the first word of the next line, TeuKpow and the similarities of the two initial words along with the identical metrical scheme
reinforce for the audience that these lines comprise a single unit of sense. Now that the altar has told us that Jason built it, in the fashion of the .s:vrinx (3) it tells us who has not. The manufacturer is not the one lying on ashes, ou fr1TO~euva;, who is the same person as the son of the Empousa, Tvt; 'Ett1TOLifTa;. Finally, if those clues have not been enough, Dosiadas ensures the reader's ability to identify the man who did not build the altar by naming his killer as the Teuerian goatherd, the offspring of a bitch,
A man known for 1ying on ashes is Achilles, a reference to the process by which his mother Thetis either tested or ensured his immortality. Lycophron preserves the former version of the story, describing Achilles' fate as the only one of seven children to
. t11e te 11ta1e I~·tre: a'fl ' 1...' surv1ve
t \ ~~ ,t. .I' I "' (J'TiOOOU#J.,evwv ·~ I e1rra 1Tatowv 1Jl€1.J1al\tp
,/..'I I p,ovouv lfJA€70UtTav "
I
ega/..ugav'!'a rrrro'UJv (178-9). Apollonius of Rhodes tells ofthe latter, describing the
96
Further attestation of this version of the stoJy seem-; to exist on an early 5111 -ccntury red tigurt.: hydri.a featuring Medea holding a cup, with a ram coming out of a cauldron accompanied by a man labeled "Iason" (Lond<m E 163). See also Lycoph1·on 1315 where Jason's body has been cut up and put in a cauldron, J..~i.Yrrn aa,,"t'p€u0elt; ilf.tuu;.
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201
process by which Thetis, like Demeter, dipped Achilles into tire each night in Qrdcr to make him imm.ortal (4.869-79). With either tradition in mind, the reader may infer that the adjective crrro()euvas refers to Achilles. In case the first riddle remains unsolvable to the reader, Dosiadas offers a more penetrable, albeit still veiled, reference to the conditions of Achilles' parentage. The identification of the son of an Empousa, ''hobgoblin," or ''assumcr of many shapes." as Achilles relies on the account that his mother Thetis, unwilling to marry Peleus, changed 97
herself into a variety of animals in a vain effort to evade his advances. Finally, chronicling the full range of Achilles' life, Dosiadas engages another riddle to describe his killer. The audience can readily guess that the poet means Achilles as the victim of
the Teucrian goatherd since his killer is the most famous Teucrian goatherd of all, Paris (predicted at ll. 22.358-60). The rest of line 4 parallels the reference to Achilles' mother with the characterization of Paris as the offspring of a bitch, Kuvo.; TeKVWJkaTo.;. We know that this refers to Paris also because, as the scholia relate, his mother Hecuba was called
Kuwv, "bitch" or "female dog" because she had so many children-19 sons by Homer's count (fl. 24.496). As noted above, Dosiadas forces the reader to discover both the identitv of the man who built the altar as well as the man who did not, paralleling the structure of the Ps.-Theoc.titean Syrinx. Through careful inteq)retation and cross~ referencing, we learn Gantz I 993: 228-229. This aspect of tht~ eourting of Thetis by Peleus is mostly preserved in the visual rather than literary record. Examples !hun the archaic period include three tripods from Pcrugia that datt.J to the third quarter ofthc 61" c:entury aud feature Thetis with a lion and a snake corning out of her shoulder (Munich SL 66, 67, 68) as well as Attic versions of the struggk where Peleus contains his bride with lions, panthers, snakes, etc. hanging from her body, indicating her ability to metamorphose (e.g., London B215, Louvre CA 2569). So too, the scholia attest to her ability to take tht: form of a 0"'1/"'Tta., ''cuttlefish'' known to eject a dark liquid in which it hides itself when pursm:d.
97
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202 that it was Jason and nol Achilles whQ constructed the monument. The distinction that Dosiadas makes h.cre is not as much one between numufacturcrs, as it is between husbands. That is, what Dosiadas means to clarify is that by Medea's husband, he docs not mean Achilles. This comes from the rather obscure tradition that tells of the wedding of Medea and Ach1lles in the Elysian fields, .first attested by Ibycus (291 PMG) and corroborated by no longer extant poetry ofSimonides.
9
!l
Furthermore. both men are, as
the scholia remind us, Thessalian and so theoretically, jLepot/1 (2) could have applied to either one of them. ln true hellenistic fashion, Dosiadas, probably with the full knowledge that this clarification .is unnecessary since most readers would immediately identify Jason as Medea's husband, only further complicates his subject matter, on one level deepening the level of obscurity of his references, while on another guiding his audience away from potential confusion.
5-6: Xpurrac; <{)') atTac; 0-jLoc; et/;av(ipa TOll "J'VlOXaAKOll oopov eppatrrev
Having established which
husband of Medea has built this altar, Dosiadas returns to the proper one, Jason, continuing to define him in riddling terms of his relationships to others. He is the beloved youth of Chryse, whom the reader could identify as Aphrodite, a divinity typically assigned the epithet "'golden," e.g., noAUXfJVffOU 'Ac/>po(if"r'Y}c; (h. Ven. 1), and the goddess responsible for causing Medea to f11tl in love with Jason, thereby ensuring his attainment of the Golden Fleece. Athena, however, is also described as golden, XPUrrea .6.16~ (Soph.
6uryaTep
OT 188), and indeed the scholia identify Chryse here with Athena, and if
conect, the identification nicely balances the reference to the Palladium at the end of the
98
Gantz 1993: 113.
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203 poem (1 6). Regardless ofthe goddess to whom the adjective applies here, the name Chryse intentionally anticipates the episode involving Philoctctes and Chryse, a nymph by that name, and the smtke bite he suffered upon entering her shrine. The reader now gets a temporal marker, placing the construction of the altar in the tradition of an established chronology. It has been built at the time when, O,p.o<;, the boiler of men, €1/;avapa, shattered the bronze· limbed guardian. As we saw above, Medea is the ''boiler of men.', whether Acson, Jason, or Pelias. She is also responsible for the destruction eppat(J'€V of the bronze guardian ')VIo')(,aAKOll oopov. Attested by such archaic authors as Simonides (568 PMG) and such hellenistic ones as Apollonius (4.1638-88), there was a bronze guardian of the island of Crete named Talos, who kept intruders at bay. When the Argonauts landed on Crete, he threw boulders at them to prohibit their ascent and so Medea, by the most common tradition (A.R. 4.1638-88), by prayer and imprecation, caused him to shatter his ankle, his one vulnerable spot, on a sharp rock and he died as all the ichor poured out through the hole created there.
Just as Dosiadas has highlighted the identity of the manufacturer of the altar, so, too, does he include riddling references to the identity of the craftsman ofTalos. Someone without a father, a:rraTwp, with two wives, 6lrrewo~, toiled, fJ-OrrJ(]"£ to make Tales, someone tossed away by his mother, ~J-aTpoprrrro<;. As the scholia confim1, this is H.ephaestus, the consummate craftsman to the gods. lIe is termed "fatherless" because of the account of authors such as Hesiod that he was born to Hera alone with no male consort: c'IIP'YJ (;' <'H
ov c/ltATO"M')Tt p,vyfit(J'a./')lelvaTo (Th. 927-29). He has two wives because he was
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204 married both to Aphrodite {e.g., Od. 8.306-20) and either Char.is (ll. 18.382"83) or Aglaea (Th. 945"·46), both embodiments of the Graces. That he was thrown out of Olympus because of his lameness by his mother Hera, ~ULTpopm'To~, is represented early in the literary record (Jl. 18.395-405; h. Hor;z. Ap. 316-21 ).
Line 9 begins the latter half of the poem, aml the two halves are linked by the altar's explicit reference to itself, the €~ov here recalling the 1-u: of line 1. The conjunction (;€ alerts the reader to a shift in
topic, as in li11c 5, and the close of the first half of the poem also concludes the references to Jason and Medea. Now that Dosiadas has established the creator (1-2) and the time of the creation ofthe altar (5-6), he turns to a major occurrence that revolves around the physical altar itself, -ref}yp,'. The altar tells us that having gazed upon it, a8pr/;(]"aq,, the slayer ofTheocritus,
' KTav-raq,, the burner ofthree-mght-man, TPIE(]"7r€pow Kaurrraq,, shouted 0 eoKptTOto 1
•
I
I
aloud, 0wv£ev. To solve this riddle, the audience must read 0eoKpfToto not as the proper name "Theocritus," but literally, as the "judge of gods," the name comprised of8e6r;, "god" and Kpr"rfh<;, 'judge." Paris, the Teucrian goatherd present in line 4, surfaces again here. We recall Paris' role in the so-called "Judgment of Paris'' when he deems Aphrodite more fair that Athena and Hera and is rewarded with Aphrodite's gift of Helen, a story popular in the literary and visual record from the archaic period on (e.g., ll.
24~30;
Villa Giulia 22679). 99
99
For the "Judgment of Paris" on the Chigi Vas~', ch:1pter 2, fig. 9.
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Rome,
205 In order to identify the subject of the verb, the man who shouted out upon gazing at the altar, the reader must recall who killed Pari.s. The authors ofthe Cypria as well as Sophocles in his Philoctetes and Lycophmn (914-15), fi:>r example, preserve this story. As these poets relate, Philoctetes killed Paris, the 'judge of gods,'' because he was fated to be the only one who could bring about the final sack of Troy. By retaining the same subject in line 11, Dosiadas indicates that Philoctetes is also the one who burned the three~night~man. The scholia tell us that this riddling epithet refers to H.eracles because he \Vas conceived by Zeus and Alcmene while joined in a continuous union lasting three days and three nights, an account corroborated by the usc of TPIEfT'Tiepot; to refer to Hcracles by, for example, Lycophron (33), Plautus (Am.l.3.44~ 53), and the considerably later second sophistic author, Alciphron (3.38). That Philoctctes lit .Heracles' pyre to end the latter's suffering joins the stories about Hcracles' death around the mid-5th century, 100 although not explicitly stated by Sophocles in either the Trachiniae or Philoctetes, and is included as a necessary event preceding Paris' murder at
the hands ofPhiloctetes. Indeed, Philoctetes can only kill Paris if he uses Hcracles' bow, the item which Hcracles grants Philoctetes for mercifully lighting his funeral pyre. The postponed verb 0wugev vividly recalls Philoctetes' pain (12) explained in the following lines (13-14). Dosiadas has chosen this verb carefully, for it often appears in tragedy, the genre primarily interested in detailing Philoctetes' suffering. Finally, the word that originally occupied the remainder of the line remains elusive, although we
1 Hl(J Gantz 1993: 458-459 not,:s that the 5 h century evidence comes solely fl'om the visual record (PrColl New York). Not until the helicnistic period do authors include Philoctetes' role in Heracles' death, e.g., Lye. (916-1 8), Diml. (4.38), Ovid (Met. 9.10 1-272), Apollod. (Bibliotheca 2.7.7), and Hyg. (Fab. 36).
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206 follow Gow in the conjecture that it probably meant something like a,vu)~a<;, ''squealing,'' or "screaming. "
101
The conjunction -rap marks the explanation ofPhiloctetes' shriek of pain, the poison, lijJ from a '"belly-trailer,"
qvptyaU'Tpoc; who also defies old age, tR'OvriJpar;. The cause of Philoctetcs' pain is a snake, an animal that drags its belly along as it moves and bccon1cs young again by shedding its old skin. What Dosiadas captures in these lwo short lines is attested as early as the Iliad (2.716-25) where Homer describes the abandonment of Philoctetes at Lemnos by the Achaeans on their way to Troy after Philoctetes had suffered a snake bite. The stench of the infection from the bite coupled with Philoctetes' frequent complaints were so overwhelming that the Greeks abandoned him. to the island. At the end of the
5th
century, Sophocles adds that the snak.e who bit Philoctetes was sacred to Chryse and guarded her outdoor shrine, striking only when Philoctetes approached too closely (Ph. 1326-28). 102
1s: TOll '0' t€Mlll€UllT't Ell aj.ktKAUO"T4J
This line begins the
conclusion of the poem, a shift marked by '0'. Philoctetes remains the object of the verb, in this case a verb that does not come until the last line of the poem (18). Dosiadas describes him in a sea-girt place, 041.tKAVO"Tq> presurnably the island of Lemnos, and although there is a crux in the text of line 15, Gow's proposal that Philoctetcs has been ----··----~----
wl Gow 1966: 182 oners a1.ml~as- rather than adopting atgcv from the bucolic manuscripts, or aXv' suggested by the textual critic C. Salmasius. 102
iui;ac:;,
The visual record .records this version of the story by about 460, as tc)r exarnple, a stamnos by Hcrmonax attests (Louvre G 413 ). Philoctetes lies wounded on the ground sutTOWlded by Achilles, Agamemnon, and Diomedes, with a labeled statut~ ofCbryse nearby.
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207 spending his tirnc there fishing with nets, €)-AIJJfHVVT' both makes sense and accords with the metrica.l scheme of the poem.
103
The last lines of the poem begin with a line that closely parallels the opening of the $)win.~ ( 1), and Dosiadas concludes the poem with riddles about two more characters and their mle in the saga of Philoctetes. The Te (16) signifies the first part of the double subject of the final verb
a7a'YOll and the i ' of Jinc 17 parallels it.
111CSC
two Jines contain concealed references to
the identity of the men \Vho took Philoctetes away from Lemnos and on to Troy so that he could kill Paris with the bow he had earned from Heracles. The first riddle reveals a conscious and playful interaction between this poem. and the -~winx. In the S)winx (1), where the reader must deduce from clues that Pan is the main topic of the poem, Ps.-Theocritus requires the reader to unravel the references to Penelope as Pan's mother.
104
One of the ways the author describes Penelope is
"bedfellow of no one," that is, the wife of Odysseus, an identification derived from
Odyssey 9 where Odysseus terms himself Oihts, ''Nobody" (366). Conversely, Dosiadas characterizes the figure in this poem as the "bedfellow of the mother ofPan," meaning Odysseus. Dosiadas also defines Odysseus as a thief:
cf>wp, understood by the scholia to refer
to the time when he, accompanied by Diomedes in some accounts, stole the Palladium
lO! Gow 1966: 182 prefers eMtvEDvT' to the seholia preserve. 104
(iel ),tvei'lvT' of the Anthology, or D\tVVOVT'' which the
For other accounts of this tradition, sec above, 182-184.
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208
from Troy (Antisth. Aias 6; Apollod. E'pit. 5.13). This image of Athena guarded 'l'roy and the Greeks could not take the city without first removing it. Odysseus is also twiceliving, ~tS(t)Or;; because he descends into Hudes, allegorically dying, and enters the realm ofthe living once again (e.g .• Od.ll ). The "son of a man-eater" joins Odysseus as the subj<:.:ct of the verb (h'a/yov and again the scholia explain the riddle. This must be Diomedes, they relate, since his father Tydeus, as one of the seven warriors who attacked the gates of Thebes (A. Th. 3771T.), consumed the brains of his foe Melanippus, so thirsty for the blood of his enemy that he sacrificed the immortality Athena promised him to do so (Stat. .7'7zeb. 8.716-66; Ps.Apollod. 3.6.8). Thus the reader discovers that Odysseus and Diomedes led Philoctetes fi·om Lemnos to Troy because he possessed the arrows (and bow) capable of bringing about the final sack of Troy, 'IAopaurrav ap~fwv. According to the scholia, Philoctetes' destruction ofthe citadel was the third such attack on Troy, Tptnop6ov, after the sack by Heracles in his quest for Laomedon's horses (II. 5.628-51), and then the Amazons. Because there is no extant version of the Amazons' destruction of Troy, I suggest that the scholiast became confused by the reference to Heracles and with the contention between Heracles and the Amazons in mind, erroneously attributed another destruction of Troy to the Amazons.
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209
V. Conclusion We can now analyze the tcchnopacgnia as a corpus, placing tht~m in H1(lir hcllcnistic context and in the larger framework of the interaction of word and image that guides this investigation. Although some of the poems arc more alike than others, we note here the features common to all the poems, that is, their specifically hellcnistic characteristics as well as the pervasive themes of creation, in the sense of both birth and craftsmanship, physicality and materiality, and vision and gaze. Even a brief exploration of these themes reinforces the conclusions reached above that the ancient reader would have encountered the poems on the page in the shape of a physical object, a poetic innovation that nmrks an important phase in the ever-evolving Greek relationship between the literary and visual arts. The teclmopaegnia are emblematic of the cultural and literary environment in which they were produced. As summarized above, hellenistic poets endeavored to treat traditional topics and themes in new ways, paradoxically adhering to and removing themselves from canonical modes of poetry, namely Homeric epic and its imitation. Simias, Ps.-Theocritus, and Dosiadas also compose in this vein, highlighting epic moments in distinctly non-epic contexts. A significant departure from the path of Homeric imitation, for example, is the format of the poems themselves. Just as one ofthe defining features of epic poetry is its lt.:mgth, one of epigram is brevity. Although the two genres juxtapose one another in breadth and scope, they may still share common topics. Simias, for exarnple, evokes a Hesiodic Eros in his Wings and a liomeric Epeius in the
A;x:e, but he presents them in isolation and in just a few lines, whereas in their archaic incamations these characters arc integral to the much larger narrative framework of an
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210 epic poem. Thus characters and episodes that lhnct.i.on as interrelated components of a larger whole in traditional archaic epic stand alone in hcllcnistic epigram, brought into
focus in a new way afforded by the change in poetic fc1rmat. Asserting their independence from their archaic prede.cessors, ihe poets of the technopaegnia choose epic events as the topics of their epigrams. thereby demonstrating their ability to minimize the monumental and to accornplish succinctly in a modicum oflines what previous poets had brought about in many.
Just as hellenistic poets invert the genre within which they treat traditional topics or events, they also subvert traditional topics by highlighting new and different characters and details. In accordance with this hallmark feature ofhellenistic poetry, Simias, Ps.Theocritus, and Dosiadas all treat familiar topics in unfamiliar ways. Simias, for example, presents Eros not as the offspring of Aphrodite and Ares (Wings
7~8),
but of Chaos (6),
and Ps.-Theocritus' Penelope is not only the mother ofTelemachus, but ofPan as well (Syrinx 1-5). Likewise, by focusing on Epeius and his tool in the Axe, Simias elevates a character of lowly status known not as a warrior but rather as a water-carrier to the level of a hero, representing him and his axe as pivotal in bringing about the destruction of Troy. Dosiadas, too, asset1s his poetic inventiveness by emphasizing the impm1ance of Philoctetes in Troy's demise, an element of the saga not developed by Homer. Ironically, Dosiadas focuses the audience's attention on Philoctcies' role at Troy while simultaneously recalling the rather pathetic and decidedly unheroic story for which
Philoctetes was better known: the snake bite and hi.s subsequent abandonment by the Achaeans. Like most hellcnistic poets, the poets of the technopaegnia were keen to
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211
demonstrate their ingcmuity and individuality, qualities illustrated by the particular moments they chose to portray and the genre in which they chose to portray them. As poeu1s composed by authors of an innovative mode of poetry with no direct Greek antecedents, we are not surprised to witness the emphasis on creation and birth throughout the technopaegnia. The efforts these poets have gone to in creating a new type
of poetry echo in the efforts of their characters to generate and create as well. Simias' OWings, for example, accounts for the genesis of Eros (l) and Necessity (3), even clarifying that Aphrodite and Ares did not create this Eros (7~8). At the poem's conclusion, Simias represents Eros, whose own creation occupies much of the poem, as the source of the gods' divine laws (12). So too, Simias' Egg betrays his preoccupation with birth, presenting the poem in the shape of an egg, referring to the Dorian mother ( 14) and her labor (5-6). Likewise, the first characterization of the fawns in the poem is that they desire their mother's teat highlighting the nourishing relationship of parent and offspring, a natural extension of the theme ofbirth or creation (13-14). Ps.-Theocritus' first clue to Pan's identity lies in discovering his mother's (1-2), and He1mes is "fatherless" (15), a term also used ofHephaestus in Dosiadas' Altar (7) where the theme of creation extends to the realm of craftsmanship. The Altar opens by alluding to Jason, the person who built it (3). We note, too, a similar emphasis in Simias'
Axe where Epeius, the subject of the poem, is the person who has used the object we see on the page to fell the trees to constmct the Trojan Horse. These examples dem.onstrate that through the characters in their poems, these poets highlight thernselves as creators of a new poetic fonn and as craftsmen who have used their poems to create images, providing a metatextual commentary on their own poetic prowess.
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212
Another theme that pervades the poems~ and is closely associated with creation vis~a~vis craftsmanship, is materiality or physicality. The poets rernind their audience that as images of material objects, these poems are not confined to the literary world as two-dimensional texts, but are reminiscent of the physical world. The first reminder comes fron.1 the shape of the poems themselves. Simias' Axe and Dosiadas' Altar, fbr example, purport to be objects that themselves were pivotal to the events
surrounding the fall of Troy, while Simias' Egg is the ve1y object transported by Hennes . .Furthermore, the poets use the language of manufacture to describe the construction of their poems, such as
rrasev (7) and U'/' UNta (8) in the Syrinx, or the Altar's T<:iJg'(3) and 1
T€U7J1.' (9), and the materials used for manufacture such as xa).Ke:ot; (Wings 11 ),
reminding the audience that these are not only poetic compositions, but are also ct·atted, manufactured images meant to evoke three-dimensional objects. fn a similar ploy to call attention to these poems' innovative appearance, the poets
of the technopaegnia dramatize the act of seeing. The emphasis on vision is evident in Simias' Wings, for example, as Eros commands his audience to gaze upon him, represented by his wings, A£UU(]"E p,e: and not to turn away in fear at what they see, wYJtle
Tpeay;r; (1-2). So too, at the conclusion of the Axe, that which Athena (or the reader) looks down upon, ap,ttle:pxfJBr; is thrice-blessed ( 10). The object of Athena's gaze is ambiguous in the Greek and one reading renders Epeius, because she looks after him, but another interpretation could be that she, like the reader, looks down at the axe itseH: blessed for bringing about the destruction of'l'roy. Conversely, Ps.-Theocritus highlights the visual appearance of the s:vrinx, a poem whose shape is an important clue t(.)r unraveling it riddles, by references to invisibility. The syrinx itself is the beloved item of
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213 the Tv'Aoc/>opwv "thos~.;~ who carry the blind/, (11) and the poe.m cmphatk!ally ends with the single word, li'I'}Ac·urrrcp, ''invisible" (20). A clever poetic paradox exists here. The visual function of the word that constructs the .final reed of the pan-pipe contrasts sharply its semantic function because, although it means "invisible," it works to make visible the corn.plete image of the instrument for the viewer. Dosiadas also pointedly dramatizes the act of seeing, tor he forces the audience to gaze upon the image of the same altar that caused Philoctctes h:.um when he looked upon it, a8p{;t:ra.:; (11). Although a taboo to look upon Chryse's shrine, the audience cannot help but violate custom because the poet forces us to see the image as we read the poem. Dosiadas makes us, like Philoctetes, vulnerable viewers, accidentally seeing that which is to remain concealed and we wonder what consequences may await us. In the vein of the visual games the late archaic red-figure vase painter Onesimos plays with his audience, 105 Dosiadas tricks the viewer into looking when the act of looking has negative implications for the viewer and thus self-consciously asserts his control over his artistic composition as well as his audience's interaction with it. By emphasizing the language of viewing, Simias, Ps.-Theocritus, and Dosiadas compel the audience to recall the inextricable relationship between poem and image throughout the technopaegnia, the defining feature of the poems that highlights the ingenuity of their authors.
As poems that are also images, the technopaegnia operate on multiple levels. In general, we can understand them as literary compositions that consciously respond to their place within the Greek literary tradition. More specifically, they are hellenistie epigrams that .intentionally blur the boundaries of the literary and material realms,
105
See chapter 2, fig. 38, especially n. 227.
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214
recalling both their archaic and hellenistic rnodcls only to diverge from them. Finally, these poems arc images of objects created by words and thus they exploit the decorative and architectural qualities of the written word. As the words in archaic inscriptions adorn images and objects, the words in the hellcnistic tcchnopacgnia create images that represent objects. We have seen that the archaic poets Hesiod, Simonides, Pindar, and Bacchylides engaged in a dialogue about the relationship between the literary and visual arts, namely which medium was more effective, expressive, and enduring (chapter 1). As we would expect poets to do, they assert that song is the most successful mode of expression and thus commenced the competitive relationship between poetry and physical object that endured in Greece ti·om the archaic through the hellenistic period. As creators of technopaegnia, Simias, Ps.-Theocritus, and Dosiadas have suggested a verdict in the agon between the literary and visual arts, tor in these poems, poetry itself stands as both literary and visual masterpiece.
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215 CONCLUSION
This study has traced the ellduring interconnectedness between word and image in Greek culture from the early archaic through the hellcnistic period. 'T'hc poetic treatment of physical objects by Homer, Hesiod, Simonidcs, and Pindar as well as the placement of
words on archaic vases or statues attest to the fluidity of exchange between the two media; archaic poets enhance their compositions with images of physi.ca.l objects just as contemporary craftsmen adorn their productions and the images on them with words. The ability of the two modes of expression to contribute to one another, however, and their inherent expressive similarities, ultimately created a co nil ict between them, compelling their practitioners to distinguish explicitly the ways in which they differed. Because this differentiation occurs most dramatically in tbe contexts where the literary and visual arts are most closely assimilated, thi.s conclusion wi11 briefly review the evidence in archaic poets' agonistic descriptions of physical objects (chapter 1), the comparable application of words to physical objects by archaic craftsmen (chapter 2), and the combined verbal and visual response of the hcllenistic technopaegnia (chapter 3). Homer, we recall, supplements his own poetic skill by incorporating the techne of material craftsmanship into his ekphrasis of Achilles' Shield (11. l 8.478-608), noting the results ofHephaestus' efforts with multiple exclamations of thauma (467, 496, 549). Although compelled by different motivations, Hesiod also emphasizes the skill with which the crafted Pandora is wrought, expressing awe about her striking appearance (77z. 574-75, 581,584, 588). As I have argued, however, those very expressions of wonder ultimately point to the poets as the objects' creators, enabling them to adapt the expressive powers of physical objects to their poetry and simultaneously remind the
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216 audience that they arc responsible for ~)reating the mental images of those objects. Finally, both poets further underscore the superiority of their medium by illustrating the shortcomings of physical objects~ Homer undermines the endurance of semata and Hesiod emphasizes the deceptive nature of the crafted Pandora statue. Simoni des, too, infuses his poems with images of crafted material objects, only to conclude explicitly that his poetry is a viable and optima] substitution for commemorative physical monuments such as a statue or grave (531 PMG, 542 PlvlG) 581 PMG). Likewise, Pindar describes beautifully wrought buildings and assimilates his poetry's structure to theirs, imbuing his poems \J.'ith the qualities ofmonumenta] architecture (Ol. 6.1-4, Pyth. 3.113, Pyth. 6.7-18, fr. 194 S-M). He is careful to highlight the fundamental differences between them, however, and, encapsulating the sentiments of Homer, Hcsiod, and Simonides before him, Pindur reminds the audience that his poems, rather than
physical objects, are mobile, audible, and able to withstand destructive elements. Poetry, these archaic poets assert, excels in its commemorative and aesthetic capacities, for a poem can embody the technical skills of both media while retaining the mobility, voice, and durability afforded to poetry alone. The archaic manufacturers of crafted objects, however, do not allow this claim to go un:mswered. Although I do not suggest that potters, painters, or sculptors respond directly to the charges of inferiority leveled against their craft by contemporary poets, they do adopt the expressive powers of writing inlo their productions in a way that refutes their poetic rivals. On one hand, the writing on these objects functions lexigraphically, conveying information about the occasion of the objt~ct's dedication, the identity of its owner or manufacturer, or the names of human or animal figures in a narrative. The
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217 graffiti on the Cup of Nestor. "lam the cup of Nestor..." (Ischia Museum; fig. 2), and the dip into on the Pynhos m:vballos, "Pyrrhos ... rnude me"(Boston, MFA 98. 900; Jig. 3), fbr example, personify those objects, enabling them to speak forth self-referentially. ln their lexigraphic capacity, these inscriptions lend a voice to objects that would otherwise stand mute, and thus put them on par \Vith vocalized poetic song. Writing can also transcend its normative semantic function, however, imparting meaning to its audience on a sematographic leveL The nonsense inscriptions among a group of dancers (Brussels R 248; fig. 20) or athletes (.London, BM B48; fig. 28), for example, may be lexigraphically insignificant but they are meaningful as sematograms; they atticulate the action and relationships within their scenes as they angle and curve from one flgure to the next, eidographic cues that visually infonn the viewer. In cases like these, writing ceases to flmction in its literary capacity, appropriated and transfomwd instead into an instmrnent of visual expression. Finally, as in the majority of the examples examined in this study, archaic inscriptions can perform both roles simultaneously, communicating with the audience lexigraphically and sematographically. We read and derive information from the namelabels on the Hippobatas aryballas (Athens, NM 341; fig. 11) or the Frant;ois Vase (Florence 4209; figs. 24, 25), while their eidography combines with the other visual elements in the scene to give information to the audience about the action therein. By applying inscriptions to their crafted material objects, artisans provide those objects with the voice the archaic poets claim fc>r poetry alone, and transtbnn and expand the limited lexigraphic use of words by poets, demonstrating their own ingenuity and creative skilL
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218 Although there is no final resolution of the contest between the litcnuy and
v.istlal arts in the archaic period~ in part because each ingeniously adopts and adapts the technical skills of the other, the heHenisti.c poets will try to declare victory. As authors who conscious]y respond to their archaic predecessors, both adhering to and transforming the traditions they inherit, we witness their treatment of this agcJn in multiple contexts.
One author I have not discussed in this dissertation, but whose poetry bears further exploration, is Apollonius of Rhodes. Like Homer, he inserts ekphrastic description into his epic, th~reby asserting his own poetic authority, but his new emphasis on viewing further invigorates the competition between literary and visual modes of representation. In the first book of his Argonautica, he describes Jason's crimson cloak and the scenes on it (721-67), including one in which Aphrodite stands holding Ares' shield, her tunic falling loosely around her, revealing her bare breast (742A5). As she stands there, an exact replica ofher image reflects back in the bronze of the shield, TO (J'
avTfov
aTpfl<e~ aiJTWS' / xaAI
induces his audience to imagine an object and the representations on its surface, but extends the depth of the representation by including an image of Aphrodite who gazes on her own reflected image. The complexity involved in differentiating between the subjects and objects of viewing in this passage is characteristic of the hellenistic poetic milieu in general and fundmnental to the teclmopaegnia in particular. The hellenistic authors of literary epigrams also betray a preoccupation with sight and vision, encapsulated by the ekphrastic epigram of Asclcpiades (or Posidippus) that wonders whether an image is of Aphrodite or Berenice, doubting whom it more closely resembles, I
afJ' £i1<wv· cf>ep' iCJWf.J..e6a p..7} B£pevll
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2!9 't't~ op,owTepa.v (AP 16.68). As we have already noted, the form ofhellcnislic
epigrams imitates its archaic models, exemplified here by the dcictic
ao', but the content
frequently emphasizes the (visual) absence of the attendant physical object, thereby highlighting the visible presence of the poem on the page. Indeed, if this epigram's narrator cannot make out the image's identity, its audience is at an even greater loss, for we see not the image, but the poem that describes it, and onctl again we arc reminded of the authority of the poet who ultimately controls our vision. The poets of the hellenistic technopaegnia, like Apollonius and other epigrammatists, consciously manipulate the object of their audience's gaze, but with an ingenuity unrealized elsewhere. By composing poems that create the shape of physical objects on the page, Simi as, Ps.-Theocritus, and Dosiadas reintroduce the object into its epigrammatic context, combining lexigraphic words to create a sematographic image; now that audiences encounter poetry in books, the authors of the technopaegnia offer them both a poetic composition and a visual presentation. The shapes on the page are fundamentally connected to the content of the poems that produce them, either assisting in unraveling the riddles within the poems, as with the Ps.- Theocritcan Syrinx and Dosiadas' Altar, or functioning as a visual referent for the
object referred to by the poem, as does the whole corpus. Thus, like the poetic ekphrases and inscriptions on archaic artifacts that we have considered, poem and image work intimately together to create meaning. Notably, however, the hellcnistic poets compress the archaic relationship between the modes of expression into a single context where the poem itself generates the image and simultaneously stands as literary and visual artifact.
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220 With this innovation, the poets of the lcchnopaegnia demonstrate the superior expressivity of poetry and attempt to silence the agiin first voiced in the archaic perit)(i.
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221 ABimEVJATIONS Bcrgk
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